Liar's Blade

by Tim Pratt

  Cilian was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was almost certainly already beyond the city walls, scouting their route to ...wherever they were headed next.

  "You might want to wear this." Zaqen offered him a rough-spun brown cloak she took from a trunk at the back of the cart. "Disguise that noble face of yours."

  "Oh, yes, a disguise, that's a good idea. We wouldn't want anyone to recognize us. Do you plan to paint your camel so it looks like a horse, then?"

  She shrugged. "You're the one who struck up conversations with assorted guards and city leaders, not me. But as it happens, we're not taking the camel, or the horses, either. Let the innkeeper have them."

  "We're leaving our mounts behind?" Rodrick frowned. "What if the carthorse freezes to death? Or we break an axle?"

  "I think, between Obed's wealth and my magic, we can manage to keep a cart underneath us for a journey of half a day, don't you?"

  "We're off to the secret final destination, then?" Rodrick said. "The tomb of Aroden, only not really a tomb, since gods don't leave bodies behind?"

  "Just drive the cart," she said, and he'd never heard her sound so exhausted, not even after she released Lump in the mountain tunnels. There was not a trace of smirk or laughter or banter in her just now. Rodrick's heart sank even further. The end really must be near. But what kind of end would it prove to be?

  Chapter Thirty

  Lake Magic

  Zaqen climbed into the back of the cart, clambered over the crates, and curled up on a heap of blankets and sacks behind her master's tub.

  Rodrick mounted the driver's seat. "It's all very well to tell me to go, but you haven't told me where I'm going."

  "North," she said, without stirring from the pile. "Get out of the city, follow the road around, and just keep heading north. Stop when you reach the water. All right? Obed will provide more instructions when we reach the shoreline." The sorcerer rolled over and by all appearances went to sleep.

  "Are you hearing this, Hrym?"

  "As well as I can, stuffed inside a leather scabbard and strapped to your back, yes."

  Rodrick took off the scabbard and leaned it against the seat beside him, but didn't unsheathe the blade. The last thing he needed to do now was attract attention. He guided the horse through the streets—relatively quiet this early in the morning, at least for traffic heading out of the city, though he passed a lot of traders coming in the other way. A few guards glared at him as he rumbled slowly past, hands on their swords, but no one interfered with their departure.

  Rodrick let himself fully exhale only when they passed through the gates, and still carried tension in his shoulders until they were well beyond the throng of carters coming toward the city. The road looped wide to the east, then branched toward the north and south, both directions looking pretty well maintained. Presumably carts carrying loads of fish packed in ice needed to come down the northern route fairly often, so at least Rodrick's testicles wouldn't be bashed into jelly by bad roads. No other carts were headed toward the lake this morning, so Rodrick unsheathed his glittering blade. "There, no one's watching, so enjoy some of the cool morning air. Can you believe this is still technically summer?"

  "Late summer, now," Hrym said. "There's a cold wind soon to blow."

  "Thank you for that keen insight, O chronicler of the seasons. Without you I'd be taken unawares by the first snows and would surely freeze to death."

  "I meant it as a metaphor," Hrym said. "I have a presentiment of trouble to come, you see, so the cold wind symbolizes—"

  "Yes, I get it," Rodrick said. "It's not as if it's an original comparison. Others have said it better. At least you didn't go on and on about a gathering storm on the horizon. That would have been even worse."

  "The sky is clear," Hrym said. "It's our future that's cloudy—"

  "If you don't stop, I'm going to trade you in for a paring knife."

  Rodrick tried to take comfort in the familiar patterns of their banter, but he was too preoccupied. It was vanishingly unlikely that a bunch of monsters would just happen to destroy a house his employers needed to break into.

  Rodrick was well aware of the terrible things people would do for even the basest things—money, revenge, a cruel whim. So he could scarcely imagine the sorts of terrible things people might do in the service of a truly worthy cause. How many people would Obed happily murder to usher in a golden age? More people than there were stars in the heavens or fish in the sea, Rodrick suspected. And what was to stop Rodrick himself from dying in the service of Obed's zeal?

  There were alternatives to carrying on with this mission. Cut Zaqen's throat while she was sleeping. Stab Obed in his bath and kick the tub overboard. Take the cart, heaped with treasures, and ride south. Cilian might track him—certainly could—and try to take revenge, but the huntsman could be dealt with too. At the very least he would look at Rodrick with wide, hurt eyes and ask, "Why?" That would give Rodrick enough time to kill him, too.

  Rodrick snapped the reins and spurred the horse forward. He wouldn't do those things, he knew. He was a thief, but not a murderer, except once or twice, and only incidentally. If he saw the chance to run away with the priest's treasures, he would, but he wouldn't slaughter his employers to do it. Maybe while Obed and Zaqen were in the inner sanctum of wherever they were going, bowing low in obeisance to a dead god, he could slip off and liberate the gold. Stealing the cart was just taking what they owed him, essentially. He didn't need to wait around for Aroden's actual resurrection, or more likely his failure to appear. What use would the greatest god of humanity have for a man like Rodrick, anyway? Getting rid of his kind would probably be at the top of Aroden's to-do list.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  By early afternoon he started to catch sight of the lake, a glittering expanse in the distance glimpsed from the tops of hills, mirror-bright water flashing among the branches of evergreen trees, blinding spots reflecting sunlight, shining between jagged heaps of boulders. "Where are the mists? Where are the veils? I've been lied to, Hrym. This is just an overgrown pond."

  "I think the mists only come in the winter," Hrym said. "Steam rising from the warm water, hitting the cold air, like that. I assume the veils are metaphorical."

  "So it's just the Lake of Boring Water in the summer. That doesn't sound so bad. I can cope with a landmark like that. How big is it, anyway?"

  "Why do you think I know?" the sword said. "I'm not Zaqen. I didn't decide to plan a holiday here and do a bit of research. But it's big, I reckon."

  "I don't suppose you know what's north of the lake, then. I've never seen a map that showed anything farther than this."

  "The top of the world, I would imagine," Hrym said. "Glaciers. Mountains of ice. White dragons feeding on one another. Sleeping frost giants. Lost cities and forgotten races. Or just a whole lot of nothing much, and all of it frozen."

  "Doesn't sound too inviting."

  "It's not likely to be full of gold," Hrym said. "So I would agree, though the temperature agrees with me well enough. Someone is about to attack us from the east, by the way."

  "Noted." Rodrick wrapped his hand around Hrym's hilt—but then the man rushing from the trees beside the road threw back his cloak, revealing a pale thin face and pointed ears. It was Cilian, dressed in unassuming black instead of his usual forest greens. The huntsman clambered up onto the seat beside Rodrick and nodded at him solemnly.

  "You do a good impression of a bandit," Rodrick said. "You nearly got a spear of ice through your lung."

  "I did not foresee my death today," Cilian said.

  "That's reassuring. How about mine?"

  "There were no portents related to your death, either, my friend. Or to your life, I must admit." He glanced behind him, where Obed still slumbered, and Zaqen too. "They are very tired," Cilian said. "As if recovering from some exhausting effort."

  "I'm fairly sure they smashed Hansu Surtova's house," Rodrick said.

  Cilian cocked his head. "You believe they summoned demo
ns from the lake?"

  "I believe that when a piece of crockery gets broken in this land, the locals blame it on demons from the lake. So, no, not exactly. But I believe Obed and Zaqen did something, some spell or summoning, and destroyed the manor house and killed all those people. Because Obed was too impatient to wait for my plan to work."

  The half-elf grunted. "Obed is a hard man, but he claims to serve a god of goodness, does he not? Do you truly believe he would commit such a crime?"

  "Have you ever been to Mendev?" Rodrick said. "It's full of paladins. You'd be hard pressed to find a more deadly enemy than a paladin. They'll do all sorts of terrible things, without hesitation, because they know they're right. They don't think they're right, they know it, and while they're not above the occasional small kindness, most of the ones I've met focus on the larger picture. If a few little people have to get crushed in the course of their divine mission, they just kneel and beg forgiveness and then get up and do it all over again the next day."

  "Obed is no paladin," Cilian pointed out.

  "Oh, I know. He's the priest of a dead god. Another word for that kind of person is madman."

  "He can hear you two, you know," Zaqen said from behind the seat, sounding as if she'd been awake for some time. "He listens to everything, all the time."

  "Yes, Zaqen, I'm aware of that," Rodrick said. "You may be confused and under the misapprehension that I care if he hears me. If he doesn't like my speculations, accusations, and assumptions, he can terminate my employment. Just pay me the balance owed—I didn't take you all the way to the lake, so I'd settle for a mere nine-tenths of my body weight in gold—"

  "Or equivalent gems," Hrym said. "Though I'd prefer the gold, if it's all the same."

  "And Hrym and I will be on our way. Perhaps I didn't make it clear that I'm very tired of his lies. The last time you told me the truth, and the whole truth, I resolved to myself that I would stay, provided there were no further lies. And yet! Here we are."

  "Obed was willing to tell you what we'd done in Port Ice," Zaqen said. "He doesn't really care about your opinion. But I convinced him to keep the truth from you." She sighed, standing up and leaning on the seat between Cilian and Rodrick. "I didn't want you to think less of us. Of me. The things we do, we do for—"

  "The sake of the world, yes, I've heard that one before. And of course you wouldn't lie about that. Even if it's true that we're off to raise Aroden from the celestial grave, I'm not sure that would offer much comfort to the Surtova family retainers and random servants you murdered. What did you summon to destroy the house, anyway? Some twisted cousin of yours? No, wait, I heard a priest on the scene sensed demons, so you've been consorting with those, now. I'm sure that would thrill Aroden. It's not as if he dedicated his entire life to battling demons or anything—"

  "Silence," Obed said, rising from his bath. "I have done what I must, and will not be questioned by the likes of you, thief. You are not permitted to leave our expedition. The vault we seek will be guarded, and I require your sword to clear our path. We are too close to our goal to let your latest fit of pique spoil things. Of course you have been lied to, hireling. But only because you insist on asking questions instead of doing as you're told."

  "Piss off, fish-man." Rodrick dropped the reins and picked up Hrym. "I wish all of you the very best, except for you, Obed—I hope Aroden smells the stink of demons on you and makes his first act as a newly living god your eternal damnation."

  "Stop!" Obed ordered.

  "Wait!" Zaqen cried.

  Rodrick did neither. He jumped down from the cart—the horse was still plodding along, but not quickly enough to make any difference. He began striding away to the south.

  "Is this a ploy, or ..." Hrym said.

  "No ploy. What are we actually getting into if we stay, Hrym? Raising Aroden? I don't think so. They're willing to summon demons to get what they want. Do you think they intend to pay us a fair wage and send us on our way when they've accomplished whatever they're after? How close do we want to get to being murdered because of the whiff of gold?"

  "The whiff of a lot of gold," Hrym said. "They don't look like they're planning to murder us now. Obed is waving his arms and shouting and Zaqen is trying to calm him down."

  Rodrick kept walking, shoulders hunched. He trusted in Hrym to protect him from nearly any assault, but that didn't make the prospect of turning his back on a tainted sorcerer and a mad false priest and a very good archer any more comfortable. "Zaqen's not a bad sort," he said, "twisted lineage aside, but she's literally incapable of disobeying her master's orders. And Cilian is sweet, but something of an idiot—"

  "Not as much of an idiot as I may appear," the half-elf said, falling into step beside Rodrick. His appearance, as if from nowhere, even seemed to surprise Hrym, who could see in every direction at once. "I'd rather the two of you didn't leave. I could really use your help saving the world."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Cloud of Lies

  Rodrick groaned. "Lies, lies, everywhere lies. Are you telling me you aren't a deluded half-wit?"

  "I do not believe myself to be either," Cilian said. "It serves my purposes to appear more simple than I am, sometimes."

  "I should have known no half-elf would be so foolish as to think he was a Brightness Seeker—"

  "No, that much is true," the huntsman said. "I do feel the call of the Brightness, and I do most assuredly see signs and omens, which direct my actions. I have not, however, been entirely forthcoming about what I've seen. If it suits your skeptical mind better, the reason I joined your party had nothing at all to do with my seeking the Brightness."

  "Oh?" Rodrick said. "Why, then?"

  "Your employer Obed secured safe passage from one of the goblin clans in Loric Fells. Do you remember?"

  "I'm not likely to forget a horde of goblins perched on their mangy dogs staring down at me from a ridgeline, no."

  "How did Obed explain his arrangement to you?"

  Rodrick frowned. "He said he and the goblins shared the same god, or their gods had alliances—that they were all devoted to the deities of the natural world. But...wait ..."

  Cilian nodded.

  "Hrym, we're idiots," Rodrick said. "Obed isn't really a priest of Gozreh. He's not a priest of any living god at all. So how could he make a truce with goblins who are devoted to some nature deity?"

  "Ah," Hrym said. "The problem is, you assumed I was listening to all that truce and treaty talk. I'm a sword. I was never worried about the goblins. If I had been listening, I'm sure I would have noticed that little inconsistency you point out."

  "No doubt," Rodrick said. "All right, wise huntsman—how did Obed really secure the cooperation of those goblins? He gave them a gift of some kind, a fire wand—was it mere bribery?"

  "The goblin clans are difficult to bribe. They'd just as soon kill you and take the bribes as plunder. That way they still get the gifts, and they're allowed to eat you in the bargain. There must have been more to the arrangement than that. Those goblins don't worship any kind of nature deity, by the way. That particular clan worships demons."

  Rodrick almost stopped walking, but he didn't want Obed or Zaqen, if they were watching, to see such an obvious reaction. "Demons," he said.

  "Oh, yes. They specifically owe their allegiance to a demon who is at least temporarily allied with the great Locust Lord, Deskari."

  "So if Obed made a truce with those goblins ...it's at least possible ..."

  "That he did so by invoking the name of their mutual demon lords, yes," Cilian said, as if commenting on the blandness of oatmeal served at breakfast. "I could not be certain, of course—there are other possible explanations— so I thought it best to investigate, and ingratiate myself, and join your party. Fortunately, you chose to camp on the cursed island of the hags, so making myself useful was easy. When I next saw omens in the clouds, they told me my fate did rest with your group—though not, I think, by helping Obed achieve his goals. I have been watching al
l this time, trying to determine if there truly is a plot that involves demon lords—and the attack on Hansu Surtova's house seems to confirm that there is."

  "Why do you even care? What business is it of yours?"

  "Demons are a threat to the natural order. They are personifications of malice, cruelty, and greed. They seek to lay waste to the world, and annex our lands to the Abyss. It is my responsibility as a guardian of the wild places to prevent such horrors from taking place."

  "Ah," Rodrick said. "A zealot, then. Another one. How nice. Did you ever think that perhaps I might not want to be involved with demon cultists, either to help them or hinder them? You might have told me your suspicions before."

  Cilian shrugged. "You were clearly a criminal. Hrym is, at best, amoral. I could not rule out the possibility that you were going along with their plot willingly, though I suspected you were merely a dupe. But your decision to leave now made me decide to approach you. Here is what I suggest: We return to the cart. You explain that I pled with you, and begged you, and offered you all manner of outrageous promises if only you would stay—"

  "I'm sure that's a scenario I could sell," Rodrick said. "If I had any interest in doing so. But hearing that Obed is in the service of demon lords, strangely enough, does not make me more eager to stay in his employ."

  "But—if Obed is doing the work of demons, and going on such a journey and to such extremes to fulfill that work, then he must be planning something truly monstrous. Who knows what artifact or relic those keys will truly unleash? Deskari and his demon hosts were driven into this lake by Aroden in days long past—the monsters could have left anything locked away there. What if Obed seeks the means to open another Worldwound?"