The False Martyr (103 page)

“
Don’t worry so, my lady,”
the valati said loudly enough for the words to carry. “I am sure
that your man will be here. I know you fear reprisal from the
governor, but you have to believe that no one in this city could
allow that to happen.” The words resonated across the courtyard,
soliciting gasps from the onlookers and grumbling from the
soldiers.

“
There’s your man now,”
the valati announced, pointing down the gloomy hill toward the
Morg. Boiling up around him was a mob of at least fifty men. At
their front, a carefully disguised Kian led a pony without a
rider.

The soldiers seemed to
catch sight of them at the same time. They bristled noticeably.
Their commander issued a quick order and two of them sprinted up
the path to the fortress. Dasen’s eyes bounced between them and the
mob.
Was this it? Was this the moment that
Kian had envisioned? Was this the mob that would attempt to
overthrow the governor?
Heart hammering,
he searched the mob for Teth and an escape.

“
They come to ensure your
safety, my lady,” the valati very nearly yelled. “There is no need
to worry. They are only concerned for you. They know that certain
people are threatened by your connection to the Order, by your
great works, and incredible compassion. They only want to ensure
that nothing happens to you.”

He lowered his voice and
continued, “Things are going to start to happen. The governor now
recognizes the threat you pose, but it is too late. He has allowed
this to go far too long, and he has no idea how to handle it. The
next week will be tumultuous, but it will also be the beginning of
the end.”

Dasen could only look at
the approaching mob, carrying lanterns and torches, as the valati
spoke. Images of a much larger mob came to his mind, of a fortress
under siege, of Deena Esther at its front. Then he remembered that
Deena Esther was supposed to die.

“
Don’t worry so, my lady,”
Valati Lareno smiled and patted his arm. “The Order will see to
everything. Lady Esther will lead the revolution in spirit
only.”

“
And me?” Dasen gulped,
but the valati’s attention was drawn away by Garth
arrival.

“
I am sorry, my lady,” the
Morg thundered. “These men would not let me leave without them.
They are concerned for your safety and seem not to trust me with
the task.”

“
We brought a pony for
you, my lady,” Kian said with exaggerated volume, bowing low and
offering Dasen the reins. “I know you haven’t eaten in days and
must be spent. It is a miracle you can even walk. Please sit and
let us escort you.”

Dasen was spent. Though he
ate every night and morning – half of Teth’s conveniently doubled
portion – he was allowed no food during the day. His stomach was
rumbling and head swooning. Kian helped him onto the small, grey
horse. He sat side-saddle and allowed it to be led back down the
hill, escorted by a mob, wondering how many more such mobs he would
lead before Deena Esther was finally sacrificed.

Chapter 57

The
45
^th
Day of Summer

“
I don’t want him to be
part of this!” Ipid was emphatic. He looked from Eia to Naidi and
back again. They seemed not to grasp what he was saying. They
looked at each other in confusion, which only increased his ire.
“Do you understand what is going to happen in a few
minutes?”

“
Of course we understand,”
Eia sighed, voice low. “We have known almost since you became
Chancellor that this would be necessary. It is the natural
consequence of the choices that have been made. Why should you deny
him from being part of that?”

Ipid shook his head. He
could not believe that he was having this conversation. In the
city’s center, Naidi’s control and direction had allowed them to
save lives, to make the work less dangerous while still finding the
emotion necessary for their magic. In a few minutes, they might be
calling on that magic to kill. As long as Rynn was under his care –
even only secondarily – Ipid would not allow that to happen. “He’s
just a boy. He should not be subject to this. He should not be part
of it.”

“
He is not a boy. He is
older than some of the soldiers you bring with you today, older
than many of the men that lost their lives in Thoren. He is the
same age as your son.”

“
Yes. And I wish
desperately that I had been able to shield Dasen from what happened
in Thoren. I would give everything I have to have spared him that.
And now, I can save Rynn from seeing, from being part of something
nearly as terrible, and I plan to do so. He is not coming. Do you
understand me? I have decided. It is done.”

“
As you wish,” Naidi
answered, placing a hand on Eia to hold her back. She took a
breath. The red that had crept up her neck to her cheeks slowly
dissipated. “I think the boy . . . would benefit from seeing . . .
what is about to happen. . . . He needs to learn . . . to control
his gift when . . . the most powerful emotions . . . of others are
flooding him. . . . The only way to do that . . . is to feel those
emotions. . . . You do him no favors . . . by denying him that
lesson. . . . But you are . . . the Chancellor of this land. . . .
The Belab sent us to serve you . . . and we will do as you
ask.”

“
Thank you,” Ipid
breathed. His stomach churned, head throbbed, and they hadn’t even
done anything yet. He knew that Naidi was right. This was the time
they were living in. He was not helping Rynn by denying him those
realities, but he could not stand by and watch the boy – and in
Ipid’s mind he was still a boy – commit the atrocities they were
preparing to commit, no matter how justified those crimes would
be.

The three of them were
clustered in a sitting room off to the side of the main foyer of
the Stully manor. Ipid had forced them there when he saw Rynn
standing in the courtyard waiting to accompany them. He could not
remember ever seeing the room before. He had spent three weeks now
in this magnificent house and barely ventured past the office. He
looked around the room now. It was opulent, white marble, silk
rugs, fine vases, and beautiful paintings, all meant to overawe
whomever was left here to wait for the house’s master.

Searching for an escape
from what awaited, Ipid focused on the painting that covered the
entire expanse of the wall before him. It was a scene of the river,
workers, ships, the city lost in the distance. The details were
precise, the brush strokes imperceptible, the colors vivid, shadows
clear and present. The scene was busy, overrun with activity, but
infused with order. Everything was moving. So many pieces. Tangled.
Interwoven. How did the workers not knock each other over? How did
the ships not collide? How did the shadows not claim them all?
Maybe that was the secret.

Maybe that was what he had
been missing. He focused on a tiny boat coming into the dock.
Another larger vessel was already there. Workers piled it with
sacks. Yet Ipid knew that the boats would not collide. He knew that
the small boat would turn. There was no indication of it in the
painting, no sign that the tiny man at the rudder would push the
tiller to the side. Still, Ipid knew that he would. No one needed
to command him. No one needed to yell from the dock. He would do it
all on his own, just as the men loading the boats would turn to
take the sacks from their fellows at exactly the moment they were
handed on, just like the boys playing up the hill would dart around
the approaching carriage. It all worked. Despite all that seeming
chaos, there was order.

“
Are you ready?” Eia
asked, pulling Ipid from his thoughts. He looked around himself.
Naidi had gone. He was alone with Eia. She wore her black robes.
Her hood was thrown back, wild hair loose, framing her round face
with frizzy curls. Her skin seemed even paler against the black of
the robes, like porcelain so fine as to be nearly translucent. It
reminded him of when he had first seen her. When she had woken him
in Wilmont, had offered him breakfast, had answered his questions,
and kissed him. Had she known then what they would be? Had
he?

She approached and put her
hands on his arms. They were warm. “I sense your unease, your fear
and uncertainty. You have known that this was coming. I have felt
it burning in you since that night a week gone. It is eating at
you, and it is time to be done with it. Sometimes the dread is
worse than the act.”

“
I do not think this is
one of those times,” Ipid sighed and shook his head. As much as he
had been dreading what was going to happen this day, he could not
imagine the anticipation could be worse than what was
planned.

Eia gave him a sympathetic
smile but said no more. Their relationship remained awkward.
Despite her words, Ipid could not come to terms with the person he
had been that night, and no matter of trying on Eia’s part could
break down those barriers to her satisfaction. She claimed after
each failed attempt that she would wait, that it took time, that he
was getting better, but he could tell that she was frustrated with
him. And despite how magnificent it had felt, he was not sure that
he could find that place again, that he even wanted to.

“
We should go,” Eia said
quietly. She moved her hands to his face and guided it down to kiss
her. He complied but his thoughts were elsewhere, and Eia soon gave
up on him. “Everyone is waiting,” she urged, stepping away and
taking his hand. “They are as nervous and unsure as you. If you
wait much longer, they may lose the courage they have
built.”

“
Of course,” Ipid said
absently. He nodded and allowed Eia to lead him from the room, but
his eyes were back on the painting, examining all the people
working in harmony without him having to say a word.

#

It was the middle of the
day, hot and sticky. Ipid was already soaked with sweat, but for
some reason, he had allowed someone to talk him into wearing armor.
In a flurry of activity, four boys strapped the plates of metal to
his body with leather buckles as he watched in the mirror to his
side. He wanted to laugh for the sheer insanity of a world where a
shopkeeper was dressed in gilded steel. Instead, he took a deep
breath and winced as a boy pulled too tightly on a strap that held
the shin guard in place.

“
Sorry, sir,” the boy
stammered, but Ipid paid him no mind. He was lost in the thoughts
of what he was about to do, of the idea of drawing the long sword
that lie on the table to his side, of the idea, however distant,
that he might have to use the blade that he had never before seen,
much less held or swung.
What, in the
Order’s holy name, am I doing?
he asked
himself.
I am not, have never been a
soldier. How far have we fallen that it has come this?

He nearly stumbled through
the main doors of the manor, almost fell down the steps that led to
the courtyard. Never before had he considered what the addition of
fifty pounds of metal would do to a person’s ability to walk,
especially a person who had no right in the world to be wearing
that metal. Knowing their places, the boys who had dressed him
helped to guide him down the stairs and support him when he
wobbled. He just hoped that the display was not so ludicrous as to
dishearten the real soldiers that watched. Though he heard no
mumbles, saw not a mouth move, he could imagine the words they
would say. None of them were kind.

At the bottom of the
stairs, Marshal Landon waited with two score of his knights. They
were on foot, their armor was light relative to what they wore into
battle the day that the Kingdom’s fell, chain mail over heavy
leather, shin and thigh guards in the front, simple faceless helms,
shields, and swords. Over their armor they wore the tunics that
marked their position in the Chancellor’s Own, blue stripes on a
black background as if they were wearing flags. Sweat ran down
their faces. Their armor glistened with it. Ipid had left them
standing far too long in the blazing sun with nothing but
anticipation.

Past the knights, lost in
the sea of their blue stripes and steel were two black-clad
figures. Ipid was glad to see that the third – it was the first
time he had seen Rynn in the te-am ‘eiruh’s black robes – now paced
far to the side. He caught Rynn’s eye through the veil of his long
hair. The boy smiled and nodded. Ipid released a breath that he had
not realized he was holding. Rynn had not wanted to be part of
this, was glad to have been spared. It was all the validation Ipid
needed.

Finally, as he reached the
final steps, a cadre of Darthur closed like a leather-clad wall.
There were a dozen warriors, as many as Ipid would allow to
accompany him on this, and they had strict orders to stay back when
the fighting started. This was a dispute that should be settled by
the people of the Kingdoms. It had to be clear that it was soldiers
from the Kingdoms that had decided it. Still, he was glad to have
the warriors there to protect him. Unlike the Chancellor’s Own
whose eyes darted and body’s fidgeted, the Darthur joked and shoved
one another like boys preparing for a game. They wore what
accounted for armor among them, heavy leather vests and guards for
their arms. A few had helms but none carried shields. Their hands
were open. Weapons still strapped to their backs in the Darthur
style. Ipid had no doubt that he would see the things soon enough,
though he hoped that no threats got close enough for them to come
into use.