Faces (34 page)

Mara didn't know what to say to that.
He didn't want to hurt me, but he still knocked me out.
“‘Unnecessarily cautious,'” she repeated slowly. “You had me knocked out, and then put this Mask on me before I woke . . . you're afraid of me.”

“Wouldn't you be?” Catilla said. “In fact . . . aren't you?”

Afraid of myself?
Mara thought. She wanted to scoff . . . but in truth, she couldn't.

I
am
afraid. Afraid of my Gift. Afraid of what it means to be the only one left who has it. Afraid of where it might lead . . . where it already
has
led. So much death and destruction . . .

“I think you begin to understand,” Catilla said. Her voice, too, was softer than it had been, with a warmth she had rarely heard from the old lady. “The Lady began as you are now, young, powerful, idealistic, trying to overthrow tyranny. But she became a tyrant in her turn, unable to resist the lure of her Gift, the attraction of control over others, the desire to live forever. I don't know that that will happen to you . . . but I don't know that it won't. And I don't believe even you can be certain.”

Mara swallowed. “No,” she said. “No, I can't.”

“The new Kingdom of Aygrima must have time to rebuild without worrying about your power. Perhaps you need time to rebuild, too. And so we have Masked you, with the help of the Master Maskmaker: one last Mask before we burned his workshop to the ground.”

Burned . . .
“My old house?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Catilla said. “I'm sorry. But it had to be done. We've ordered the destruction of all the Maskmaking shops round the kingdom, as proof that the era of the Masks has ended.” She coughed again.

Anger poured into Mara, white-hot. She ached to tear the magic from the evil crone cackling at her bedside, tear her apart as she had the Sun Guard, burn Edrik where he stood . . .

She caught herself, horrified and sick.
The Lady is gone!
she thought.
Where are these thoughts coming from now?

There was only one place they could be coming from. Within her.

Is Catilla right?
she thought.

Monster . . . monster . . . monster . . .
The chants of her nightmare visitors whispered in her ears.

She touched the Mask again.
Maybe this is for the best
, she thought.
Maybe I
do
need time to rebuild. Just like the Autarchy . . . no. The kingdom.

“How long do I have to wear this?” she whispered.

“For as long as you stay in Aygrima,” Catilla said.

Mara stared at her in shock. The anger lurched back to life inside her like a creature rising from the dead. “You'll make me wear it
the rest of my life?
”

“That's not what she said, Mara,” Edrik said. “She said, ‘For as long as you stay in Aygrima.'”

“You mean exile.”

“I'm sorry, but we simply cannot risk having someone with your power active within the kingdom,” Catilla said.

“But I can't remove it myself,” Mara said. “Even if I leave Aygrima, it will remain—”

“No,” Catilla said. “The Mask you wear is keyed to the magical boundaries of Aygrima, the defenses that protect us from invasion on all sides, set in place by the great Gifted creators of the ancients. Once you pass far enough beyond those boundaries, the Mask will fall away.”

Mara found her fists had clenched. She eased them open. “So where am I supposed to go?”

“Prince Chell asked me to once more extend to you an invitation to travel with him to his home country of Korellia,” Edrik said.

Mara's heart leaped. She'd thought . . . “His ships were destroyed. It will be months before—”

“For his men working alone it would have taken months to jury-rig one of his hulks into a sailable vessel, it's true,” Edrik said. “But we have provided him with Gifted Engineers and a good supply of magic. He believes he can salvage one ship from the wreckage of the two in less than a month with their help. He has already traveled north with them and his surviving crew and officers.”

“You're allowing other Gifted to travel and use magic freely?” Mara said a little bitterly. “I'm surprised you're not locking up
all
Gifted.”

Edrik laughed. “Mara, just because we never had magic at the Secret City doesn't mean we hated it. It's Aygrima's greatest asset. Now that people are free from the Autarch's tyranny, the kingdom will blossom again, thanks to magic. Eventually we'll reach out into the outside world again and resume the trade in magic that once enriched us all.” The amusement in his voice died away. “No, Mara. We don't fear magic. We fear
you
.”

“Do not mistake us, Mara,” Catilla said. “I am grateful for what you have accomplished. I'm in awe of it. I spent my whole life trying to find a way to overthrow the Autarch with my unMasked Army. Years ago I decided the task was hopeless, but I kept going through the motions, because at least we provided hope and freedom for those who found their way to us. When we first rescued you, at your father's urging, I thought only to use your nonmagical ability to craft believable Masks—a foolish scheme born of my own ignorance. I had no idea that by saving your life we would finally bring an end to the Autarch's tyranny. Yet in eight scant months you have achieved the task I set for myself when I fled to the Secret City . . . and failed at so spectacularly through decades of wasted time.” She smiled sadly. “Mara, you are
dangerous
—dangerous now, and who knows how dangerous in the future? You're not even sixteen years old, and you have single-handedly slain the two most ruthless and powerful Gifted individuals Aygrima has ever seen. You may think you could never turn into a new incarnation of the Lady of Pain and Fire or the Autarch, and I pray that you will not—but you cannot yet know that for certain. More to the point, neither can
we
.” Her smile faded. “After all, I never thought, when I was sixteen, I would turn into
this
.”

“Why not just kill me, then?” Mara said bitterly. She spread her hands wide. “I am helpless before you.”

“We are not monsters,” Catilla said. “We fought to make this land better and freer. Executing the one who gave us the opportunity to do so would be a poor way to begin the new era.”

“But you seem to think
I'm
a monster.”

“I think you could be, yes,” Catilla said. She looked at Mara steadily. “Don't you?”

No
, Mara wanted to say, but she could not. Because how many times had she expressed to herself the same fears Catilla was expressing to her now?

“Live,” Catilla said. “Live, and prove our mutual fears wrong. Go with Chell.”

Mara swallowed. “What if . . . what if I do . . . become evil? If the Mask frees me as you promise it will, what will prevent me from simply returning and taking my revenge?”

“Once you leave,” Catilla said, “the borders of Aygrima will be closed to you as they were against the Lady. She only broke through that defense with your help. I do not think you will find anyone Gifted as you are in the world outside our land.”

Anger still bubbled in Mara, trying to break free . . . and oddly, that helped convince her. “All right,” she said. “I'll go with Chell, to Korellia. I'll leave Aygrima.” Her throat closed and it was a moment before she could speak again. “Do you . . . do you know if my mother is still alive? I haven't seen her since my Masking . . .”

Edrik shook her head. “I'm sorry, Mara,” he said softly. “I asked after her, but . . . the Autarch's Watchers found her in the south and brought her back to the capital after your father's death and your escape. She was executed, in accordance with his practice of killing the entire family of anyone convicted of treason.”

Executed.
Mara's anger rose again, but this time directed at the Autarch. She'd had her revenge. He was dead and the Masks gone forever. But so were her parents. So were so many others. The anger dropped away into the old familiar seething turmoil of grief and guilt that filled the cauldron of her thoughts. Tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down the iron of the Mask.

There's nothing left for me in Aygrima
, she thought.
Catilla is right. I'm too dangerous. Unstable. Aygrima needs time to recover from the ravages of people like me. And I need time to recover myself . . . if that's even possible.

She raised her head. “I will go into exile with Chell.”

“Good,” Catilla said. “But you need not go alone. There are two others waiting to join you. They're outside. We'll send them in.” She reached out a wizened hand and put it on Mara's arm. “I am sorry, Mara,” she said softly. “I truly am sorry it had to come to this. But . . . thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Her eyes gleamed, and a single tear tracked down her cheek. She dashed it away with the back of her hand. “Damn old age,” she growled, and turned away. “Come along, Grandson.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” said the presumptive King of Aygrima, and together they went out.

The door did not close, however. Instead, it filled with a boy and a large furry beast: Keltan and Whiteblaze.

Mara would have loved to have leaped up and run to both of them, but since she would have undoubtedly fallen flat on her face had she tried, she settled for reaching out. Whiteblaze bounded across the floor and licked her face enthusiastically. Keltan proceeded more sedately, probably because he had one arm in a sling and a bandage on his head.

“What happened to you?” she asked him, which wasn't the greeting she'd intended a moment before, but Whiteblaze had rather preempted the “enthusiastic kissing” option.

“Disagreement with Hyram,” Keltan said. “After I saw him hit you over the head. I looked a lot worse three weeks ago and he looked worse than me. But he had backup, and I didn't.”

“He was just following orders,” Mara said. “If he hadn't done it, someone else would have . . . and probably harder.”

“I know that now,” Keltan said. “But I didn't wait for anyone to explain it to me. And it wouldn't have made any difference if they had.”

“I'm just glad you're all right,” Mara said. “I felt people die outside the throne room when the Sun Guards arrived . . .”

“Prescox and Lilla of unMasked Army. Three of Chell's sailors. Eight Sun Guards and four of the Circle,” Keltan said.

“Antril?”

“Fought like a demon,” Keltan said. “He's all right. We gave better than we got, but only because we had the advantage of defending the top of the stairs. Another few minutes and they would have killed us all. But then the Masks broke. Only two of the Sun Guards fought on. We thought it was almost over—and then one of Chell's men deliberately let a Sun Guard past, screaming at him, ‘Kill the bitch for us!'” His voice shook with the memory. “Chell cut his own sailor down on the spot, and Hyram and I ran into the throne room, behind Whiteblaze. But you had . . . ah . . . dealt with the threat on your own.”

Mara remembered exactly what she had done to the man, and swallowed. She ruffled Whiteblaze's fur. “And so here we are,” she said. “Exile.” She looked up at Keltan. “Are you really willing to come with me?”

“Not just willing,” Keltan said. “Eager.” He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. “There's nothing for me here. I'd just be another soldier, unless I wanted to go back to the tannery . . .” He grimaced. “Not likely. And then there's the fact I'd have to serve under Hyram. Sooner or later I'd probably try to kill him . . . and since he's about to become the Crown Prince of Aygrima, I don't think that would end well for me.”

“Wait,” Mara said. “I just realized . . . does that mean Alita is going to be a princess?”

“If she marries him as they plan, then yes, I guess so,” Keltan said. “And Queen one day.”

“Her village will be so proud,” Mara said. She couldn't feel any bitterness toward Alita, or Prella or Kirika. She hoped they all lived happily ever after, whatever happened to her. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you're strong enough,” he said.

“I'm already strong enough for some things,” Mara said, and pulled him down to her.

The iron Mask didn't get in the way of kissing nearly as much as she'd feared.

···

They left Tamita on a wet, blustery morning ten days later, escorted by half a dozen of the unMasked Army, who kept to themselves and hardly spoke to either Keltan or Mara as they rode north. Mara only looked back once, as they crested the ridge that would hide the city from them once they descended its northern side. The clouds were so low they dimmed the tallest towers of the Palace, where the blue banners of the Autarch had been replaced by banners of red and gold, the chosen colors of Edrik's soon-to-be-ennobled family. The half-repaired wall looked like a bruise from this distance, but already Gifted Engineers and workers were bustling around it, trying to have it intact in time for the coronation.

Mara was glad she would not be there to see the crown placed on Edrik's head, or the circlet of the Heir Apparent placed on Hyram's, or to see Edrik ascend the Sun Throne she had last seen splattered with the blood of the Autarch. The people loved him, or at least the
idea
of him, the great liberator who had freed them from the tyranny of the Masks. Her own role in that remained deliberately obscured from general knowledge.

She turned north again, and let Tamita sink out of sight behind them.

She'd thought to pay a visit to Jess and Filia in Yellowgrass, to tell them how bravely their son had died, but Catilla had forbidden it. “You've caused them enough grief,” Catilla had said. “I do not think they would welcome you.”