The False Martyr (111 page)

“
If there are no more
questions, I will let the masses know that Lady Esther has just
woken. She is still weak but is expected to recover in a few
days.”

“
In a few days?” Dasen
asked. “What about . . . ?”

“
You’re a miraculous
lady.” The valati smiled. “Now, back to work for all of us. May the
Order guide and protect you until we see each other
again.”

Dasen was doubting more
and more that the Order had anything to do with it.

Chapter 63

The 51
– 52
^nd
Day of Summer

When Valati Lareno had
laid out his plan, Dasen had guiltily looked forward to being
confined to his room, to being away from the heat and the crowds
and his saintly persona. Now, two days in, he could not imagine how
he had survived that first week as Deena Esther, confined to this
tiny room with the minutes creeping by like hours. A pile of paper
waited on the table to be turned into letters, but he could not
concentrate on the words, so he paced instead, back and forth in a
circuit of no more than ten steps, stopping every few passes to
stare out the window at the empty streets below. Yesterday, there
had been a constant crowd outside that window waiting to glimpse
the miracle-worker in her confinement. Today, there were only
soldiers – the guards posted outside the inn and additional patrols
that had been set to enforce the city-wide curfew that had gone
into place just as Lareno had predicted.

To this point, every
aspect of the valati’s plan had gone exactly as he’d described it.
Following yet another miracle, Deena Esther had not only rejected
the governor’s invitation to dine, she had renounced him with a
vehemence that Dasen had not realized he possessed. As a
consequence, he had been confined to his room with guards posted at
the end of the hall to ensure that he stayed there. The next day,
nearly the entire city had come out to provide food for the camp,
to stand outside the inn, to show their solidarity with the saint
and opposition to Governor Colmar. And the governor had responded
with a strict new set of rules to keep people off the
streets.

To Dasen’s mind, the plan
had gone almost too well. It meant that the end was near, that Lady
Esther’s death was close and, with it, the revolts that would
deliver the city. And Valati Lareno had told him almost nothing
about those plans, which left his imagination to play through every
possible scenario. Even more than the prospect of his alter ego’s
death, was what would come after when the city was in revolt, the
governor was overthrown, and his father appeared here as he had in
Dorington.
And if he does, will I be able
to use my powers to stop him, his knights, and the Exiles under his
command? By the good and holy Order, do I even want to use those
powers? And against my own father? Even if he has become the
monster he seems, he’s still my father.
And what about Teth?

What about Teth? Dasen
stopped again at the window and stared out without seeing a thing.
He had barely seen her in the past two weeks. He had been so busy
acting the saint, and she spent all her time training with
Garth.
But wasn’t that what you wanted?
Weren’t you glad to come home and find her asleep? To rise and find
her already gone?
The thought made him
sick, but he knew it was true. They had become like two strangers
forced to share a room without anything to connect them beyond
that. Before Thoren, even when they argued there had been a
connection, shared goals, a common link. Now, there was nothing to
bind them, nothing to keep them going, leaving the conversations
they did have as clumsy, awkward, and insubstantial.

Dasen thought about that
gap for the hundredth time. He considered Garth for the
ninety-ninth. Could she be having an affair with the Morg? The very
thought struck him as absurd, but they spent so much time together,
seemed so comfortable around each other, seemed so aligned.
Maybe she’s moved on, found someone she can
relate to, someone strong and capable like she always
wanted?

The door rattled behind
him. He jumped, felt his pulse rise and breath stop as if his
terrible thoughts had been yelled out the window. He turned in time
to see Teth sneak through the crack she had made in the door. Even
here, in the middle of the day, it looked like she was trying to
sneak into the room, trying to avoid him.

She looked up as if
surprised to find him there, though there were two armed men at the
end of the hall to ensure he did not leave. Her shirt was soaked,
hair dripping, pants stained with grass and dirt, but there was
something beyond bones beneath. She had recovered dramatically from
where she was when they arrived, had regained the certainty of her
movements, the power and grace that marked her. She looked like
Teth. But what lie underneath was different. The mischief, the
confidence, the fierceness, the caring were gone, and without them
she felt like a stranger.

For a moment, she just
watched him with the wary countenance of a woman first meeting her
betrothed. But she was not wary even then. She had been cautious,
but she had talked to him, had toyed with him, had gotten angry at
him. After the Muldon’s, when she had been so angry with him that
all her words were terse and spiteful, he had thought they could go
no lower, but he now realized how much worse silence was than
anger.
When you are angry at someone, at
least it means you still care.

“
How is your training
going?” he asked as a means to break the ice, still finding it
difficult to believe that he had to do so.

“
It’s good,” Teth
responded but barely caught his gaze. “I think I'm almost back to
where I was at Thoren. Garth is trying to teach me the sword.” She
laughed, but joy barely touched it. “I'm lousy at it. I can almost
beat him with a knife, but he has the sword out of my hand just
about as fast as I can pick it up.” She forced another laugh. Dasen
wanted desperately to say something that would build that laugh,
that would get them back to where they were, but nothing would
come. Awkward silence filled the void.

“
I brought you some food,”
she said finally, pulling a bundle from the pack slung over her
shoulder. “The men out there wanted to search my bag, but I slipped
beneath their hands and was in here before they got themselves
untangled.” She smiled, and it was almost legitimate, almost
contained the same life as the mischievous smile he remembered from
the forest.

Dasen would have given
anything for the words that would complete that smile, that would
make her laugh as she had before Thoren, but “Thanks” was all he
could manage. He walked toward her, pulled the cloth back from the
bundle, and looked at the pile of bread, cheese, and smoked fish.
“I thought I’d actually have to keep my hunger strike today.” He
had hoped she’d find some humor in that, but the words just hung in
the room.

“
I wonder if Valatarian
was like this?” Teth asked out of nowhere. “Do you think all his
‘powers over the Order’ were really just tricks?”

“
Does it matter?” Dasen
leapt, glad to finally have a topic he could handle. “The message
and results are what count. Isn’t that what the Church has taught
since the Reinterpretation? That all the mystical stuff is metaphor
. . . .” Dasen realized what he was saying and cut himself
off.

“
I wish they were
metaphors.” Teth's voice fell, her gaze turned away, distance
growing in her eyes. “Do you think that's why they killed the
Weavers? They didn't like being called metaphors?”

Dasen choked at the
thought and looked at Teth. She was smiling. They were close,
almost there. Either way, I stand by what we've done here.” He
picked up when he could not think of anything clever to say. “Even
if it was all lies, at least we saved those people. We brought a
city together and stopped a massacre.”

“
I suppose.” Teth’s smile
faded, and she looked back at the door. “I should get back. It
seems like things are drawing to a close, and I’ll need to be
ready.”

“
We should get out of
here,” Dasen blurted. “Even if everything goes as Kian plans, it’s
going to get ugly. A lot of people are going to get hurt . . . and
. . . “

Teth closed on him and
clamped a hand over his mouth. “Stop,” she whispered in his
ear.

“
We can’t,” she said
louder. “Where would we go? And it is exactly when things are
happening that we will need Kian and the others to protect us.” She
said the last not to him but to the desk as she leaned over it and
started writing.

She held up a note that
said,
Kian is listening!

“
Whatever comes, this is
the safest place for us to be,” she continued speaking as she wrote
another note. Her words stuttered as she tried to speak and write
at the same time. She made a motion to Dasen to pick up the
conversation.

“
I . . . ah . . . you’re
right, Teth,” he said. The words came out too loud and sounded
staged. The indiscretion earned him a glare. “I guess I’m just
worried about what’s going to happen in the city. I don’t really
want to be part of any more fighting. But you’re right that we
can’t leave. I . . . I guess we’ll just have to weather the storm
and do our part.” He looked around the room as he spoke, trying to
understand what Teth had written in her note.

Finally, she grabbed his
shoulders and pointed him toward a painting of flowers hanging on
the opposite wall. “Good,” she said. “I’m nervous too, but I don’t
think we have any alternative. Besides, you started this. What
would all those people in the camp do if you left now?”

As she spoke, Teth held up
another piece of paper. This one said,
working on a plan with the Tappers. They will help. When the
city falls, we escape. More later.

Teth pulled the paper from
his hand and motioned to the picture, indicating that he should say
something. “You . . . I mean . . . you’re right. I have to see it
through. No matter what, I can’t leave those people now. And when
the city falls, I’ll be the only one that can defend them from the
invaders. I . . . I can’t let them down.” The words still sounded
forced to his ear, even as he tried to believe them, he just hoped
that whoever was on the other side of the wall thought they were
true.

Beside him, Teth was
looking around the room, holding the papers. “Fire” she mouthed,
but it was the middle of the day and no lamps or candles burned.
Eventually, she dunked the papers into the pitcher of water beside
the bed and watched the ink run into illegible smears. She wadded
the papers and ground them under her foot until they were mush. “We
are bound to this city,” she said as he disposed of the paper. “I
think this is where we can start to turn the tide against the
invaders. We just have to be strong for the next few days, and
trust that Kian and Lareno know what they’re doing.”

She sounded so confident
in the words that Dasen had to look at her twice. Her frustration
showed at the pause, and she motioned him to say something. “You’re
right, of course,” he replied. “Who knows how it will all end, but
we have to make a stand somewhere.”

“
Alright,” Teth said. “I’m
glad that’s settled. I should get back to Garth.” She grabbed her
bag from the desk and turned toward the door.

By some impulse, Dasen
caught her arm and spun her to face him. “I don’t know what’s
happening, Teth,” he whispered, “but I will never abandon you. I
will never give up on you.” He closed on her, ran his other hand
along her cheek to the back of her sweat-matted head. “When you
work through whatever this is, I will be waiting for you. I don’t
know what’s happened to us, but I want you to know that I haven’t
stopped loving you.” He moved to kiss her.

She turned her face away.
He stopped just before his lips met her dripping hair. “I’m sorry,”
she said into his chest. Her hands found his hips and held him from
getting any closer. “I know I’ve been distant, but it’s not you.
You’ve done nothing wrong. You have been . . . everything.” She
paused, brought her hand to his arm, then looked back up at him. “I
love you, but sometimes that’s just not enough. Do you understand?
Sometimes . . . .” She stopped and looked away.

“
Teth,” Dasen barely
managed the word. “Teth, what are you saying?”

“
Nothing,” she finally
answered. “Nothing. You’re right. I love you. No matter what
happens, I want you to know that.” She brought her face up and
kissed him, the merest brushing of their lips, but it filled Dasen
with the memory of everything he had been missing, left him longing
for more. Before he could have it, she pushed him gently, numbly
back and opened the door. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “I will see you
again soon.”

“
Teth,” Dasen called after
her, not caring that there were guards listening at the end of the
hall. “What . . . what did you . . . ?” She was gone before he
could get the words out. Gone. Leaving him to wonder and pace and
worry and wonder.

#

The arrow hit the straw
bale and might have gone out the other side if not for the tree at
its back. A crowd of onlookers gasped, but Teth paid them no heed.
She brought another arrow to her string and pulled. She was
standing at the farthest end of the courtyard, back nearly against
the wall, fighting a bush with her elbow, firing over a bench, and
through the overhang of the tree to the target leaned against its
trunk. The distance was less than twenty paces, but it still felt
good to fire the bow. She released and sent another arrow through a
blank space in the paper where Garth had drawn a circle with
charcoal a few minutes before. It was the only area of the paper
with a blemish, and every scrap of black was now gone.