The False Martyr (113 page)

You can still have what
you want most
, Juhn had said. Was this
what he meant? Was Noé what he wanted most? As much as he had grown
fond of the girl, and even at the height of his desire for her, he
would not have said that she was what he wanted most. She was a
dalliance, a conquest. She was a deformed, broken girl, nothing
more. And she had cost him everything.

Cary turned his horse to
ride away. He was not sure he ever wanted to see Noé again. If she
hadn’t allowed herself to be used, hadn’t fallen into Nyel’s trap,
none of this would have happened. If she hadn’t reminded him of
Allysa . . . . Another broken girl, another reminder of his pain
and failure was the last thing he needed.

Be the man your sister
needed.
Juhn’s last words came unbidden to
Cary’s mind. He dropped his head into the horse’s long mane and
cursed. Allysa appeared, but this time she was smiling. She was
laughing, teasing him. She had been trying to teach him a game she
had learned from the other girls. It was something silly, and they
both had ended up laughing until their mother had exiled them from
the house, so they sat on the steps, watched the castle on the
hill, and talked about their dreams, their plans, their future
lives. That night, his father came for her. Four years later, she
was dead.
Be the man your sister
needed.

Leaping from the horse,
Cary walked haltingly to where Noé was curled against the wheel of
the wagon. Her head was on her knees, face lost in the cascade of
hair. She didn’t move except for the slight shaking of her back.
She was crying.

“
Noé,” Cary called, voice
gentle.

She looked up, face full
of shock. Cary was nearly as shocked. Though he would never forget
how she had looked when he found her that last time, he had not
thought she could look worse. Surrounded by black and purple,
swollen nearly shut, what little of her eyes shown were almost
completely red. The bruises and swelling continued down to a
bandage across her, now crooked, nose. Across her cheek, a long cut
rose from another purple mound, marked by black threads. Her lips
were puffed to twice there size, so large that they could not close
to conceal the new gap in her teeth. The split she had been born
with in her top lip – the mark that had cost her all this – was
mirrored now by another running down from the bottom all the way to
her chin. Like her cheek, it has been sewn with black thread but
was red and angry nonetheless. Around her neck, a mink almost hid
the purple bruises left by the hands that had strangled her – the
same mink those hands had given her. The rest of her was concealed
by the dress, but Cary remembered the blood the last time he saw
her, remembered what Juhn had said about her baby, and realized
that these were probably the least of her injuries.

Her body shook as if she’d
been punched again. Her breath caught and her hands rose. She did
not say anything; she started sobbing.

“
The Order help us, Noé, I
am so sorry,” Cary said as he approached. “I . . . I . . . .” and
he realized that he had no idea what to say.

“
Why do you keep coming
back?” she filled the gap. The words were a distorted slur, barely
recognizable coming from her broken mouth. It did not help that she
spoke into her knees, face hidden by her arms. “How many times did
I tell you to leave me, but you keep coming back? What more can you
possibly do to me? What more can you possibly want?”

“
I don’t want anything,”
Cary answered and meant it this time. He came to stand before her
then kneeled stiffly down to her, placing his hands on her
shoulders. She didn’t look at him.

“
I lost everything,” she
told her knees. “I lost my daughter. I lost Zhurn. I lost my lodge.
You cost me everything. I don’t have anything else for you to take.
I am outcast. I am protected by no Mothers or sisters. They could
have done whatever they wanted with me. They talked about it,
laughed and joked about the ways they would use me, but they
couldn’t do it. None of them could even bring themselves to rape
me.”

Cary could not believe
what he was hearing. How could anyone ever be that lost?

“
I . . . I want to die,”
she continued after a pause. She unwound, lifted her hand and the
knife it held. Cary flinched at the sight of the blade, but it was
not meant for him. “I keep telling myself that it will be easy, but
every time I try,” she laid the blade along her wrist, “I can’t
seem to do it.” She looked at him, teeth clenched despite the pain
it obviously caused. “Why can’t I just do it? Why can’t the Order
just let me die? I was never supposed to be alive, so why can’t It
let me die?”

Cary had no words. He took
her hand, pulled the knife from it, and threw it as far away as he
could, then he simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to
him. He held her, firmly but gently, and no matter how she fought
him, he did not let her go.

#

“
Noé, wake up. We need to
go.” Cary tried to rouse her while keeping his voice low. The sun
was just peeking above the horizon in the cold early morning, but
Cary had been up for hours. He had fallen asleep against the wagon
wheel with Noé still held in his arms and awoken to shivering cold
in the middle of the night. Careful not to wake her, he had laid
her on the ground, covered her with the great fur cloak that was
still stuffed in his pack, and watched her battered face for a long
time in the faint light of the stars. He still had no idea what he
was doing, but at least it was the right thing. Holding her had
been right. Listening to her cry, feeling her tears soak his shirt,
waiting for her to let everything out, just being there was
right.

When he woke, felt her
still in his arms, he had known that they were tied together. Yet
this was different. He did not want to sleep with her, was not
aroused by her. In many ways it was the opposite. He wanted only to
protect her, to comfort her, to save her.
Be the man that your sister needed.

“
We need to go,” Cary
repeated as Noé’s swollen eyes fluttered open. She looked at him
for a long time as her emotions seemed to fight – surprise, fear,
relief, shame. Cary could not hope to know them all. Finally, she
looked at the cloak covering her and back at him. She pulled
herself up and back without a word.

“
The men are here,” Cary
explained. “They’re looking for me, and they might . . . .” He was
going to suggest the threat that they may pose to her but couldn’t
bring himself to say it. He didn’t even want those thoughts in her
head, did not want her to ever again think that men should be able
to hurt her. “I found some horses and supplies, but we need to go.
We need to go now.”

“
You want me to come with
you?” Noé asked as if she had not heard a word he’d
said.

“
Of course,” he responded.
He tried to keep his eyes on her though they desperately wanted to
go to the sound of voices in the distance.

“
Why?”

Cary had no idea. The
question stopped him dead. “I need you,” he finally said. He
wondered if he should tell her that he loved her, but he could not
lie to her anymore, and what he felt for her was not love, at least
not as he usually thought of it.

Noé didn’t say anything.
She stared at him, swollen, bloodshot eyes locked on his, for what
seemed an eternity. Cary could almost feel the men closing on them,
but he never allowed his attention to drift. Finally, she nodded.
“I . . . I am not sure if I can ride,” she said tentatively and
looked down at herself. Cary could not imagine the damage that had
been done to her to cause the miscarriage.
Would she ever recover from that?
he
wondered. Then decided it didn’t matter.

“
It’s okay,” Cary said. “I
will take care of you.” He hoped that was not a lie. They were
going to have to ride fast and it was going to be rough. Cary had
been tracking west from Morgvel, wanting to follow the prince’s
route to the Fells over the plains, but there were at least twenty
men there now and no way to get around them. Their only hope was
the mountains.

“
But you still want me to
come with you?”

Cary had never realized
that such a simple question could mean so much. It was not much
different than what countless girls had asked him on countless
mornings like this.
Can I come with you?
Will you send for me? When will I see you again?
He almost kissed her and walked silently away out
of simple habit. “I cannot leave without you,” he said
instead.

Noé almost smiled, almost.
She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. She walked
haltingly to the horses, holding herself as she went, wincing with
each step.
By the good and holy Order what
did that bastard do to her
, Cary thought
as he watched her grunting and shuffling a full four days after. It
was only a few steps to the horses, but as she’d said, she was in
no condition to ride and in even less a condition to
run.

Cary abandoned his
original plan. Hoping for efficiency over grace or speed, he had
planned for her to ride the mountain pony while he rode a small
mare that he’d separated from the herd near the wagons. A big
charger loaded with what supplies he’d been able to find among the
wagons was to complete their group. Noé’s condition changed
everything. She’d have to ride with him.

Fingers fumbling as he
tried to be quick, Cary transferred the supplies to the other two
horses as silently as possible. The Morgs were close. He could hear
their voices on the other side of the wagons. They could clear that
final barrier any time, could come striding around it and find
exactly what they sought. Finally, when the charger’s enormous
saddle was clear, Cary hoisted himself onto it. He felt like he was
a hundred feet in the air on the back of the enormous creature, but
he simply laid the fur down across the front of the saddle, folding
it over several times to create a cushion, then reached for Noé.
With some effort, he positioned her in front of him, sitting across
the saddle with his arms supporting her on either side as they held
the reins. She looped her arms around his neck to steady herself,
placing her head on his shoulder so that her breath tickled his
throat and her warmth encompassed him.

A yell from behind, the
now familiar call, “Guth abadat!” told Cary that their time was up.
He snapped the reins, dug his spurs, and whispered in Noé’s ear,
“Don’t be afraid; I won’t let you go.”

#

“
They won’t stop, you
know.”

Cary looked at Noé as she
turned to face him. He had slowed the horse to a walk as they
navigated a narrow trail that cut through the surrounding trees
with barely enough room for the horse much less its riders. His
arms were aching from holding her all day, but he honestly did not
want to let her go. They had been riding hard for hours, but the
forests that now surrounded them had slowed them to a walk. They
had put a lot of distance between themselves and the Morgs, but
Cary could almost imagine the big men jogging behind them, slowly,
steadily gaining on them as the horses very nearly crawled over the
now rough terrain.

“
I know,” he finally
responded. “I probably should have left you.” He sighed and ducked
beneath a branch, wrapping his body around her. She seemed to
relish that, nestling into his chest. “They want me. They’ll
probably hurt you for being with me.”

“
There is nothing else
that they can do to me.”

Cary wanted to believe
that but knew better. There were tortures that even Noé had never
felt, and even if you’ve already experienced every horror known to
the Order that didn’t mean you were immune to them when they
happened again. “Why did you come with me?”

“
Because you asked. And
because no one has ever held me before. Last night, even this, is
something I’ve never had. I never knew what it was to have someone
next to me as I slept, to feel arms around me. I know it sounds
foolish, but I would take whatever those men can do to me just to
have this.”

Cary felt the lump form in
his throat nearly choking him. His eyes stung as he tried to
imagine an entire life without ever being held. Not by a parent or
a friend or a lover. To have never been loved or even cared for
enough to warrant closeness. To have the only contact with other
people be the way that Zhurn and undoubtedly the Order Master had
used her. It made even her bruises and cuts seem insignificant.
They would heal in a few days. This was a lifetime.

Holding her close despite
the trembling exhaustion in his arms, Cary whispered, “We had
better make sure they don’t catch us then.”

Chapter 65

The
53
^rd
Day of Summer

The largest bank heist in
the history of the world happened on Teaching Day, with armies
marching outside, in the middle of the afternoon, in every city,
and with the full knowledge and consent of the nation’s sovereign.
Given that he had approved it, Ipid was not certain that it could
be called a heist, as such. Seizure would have been a better term,
but he liked the idea of a heist, and given all the planning and
secrecy that had gone into it, the term felt right. The plan had
begun on the day of his inauguration when he had required banks to
hold individuals’ wealth free-of-charge, ostensibly to discourage
looting and theft. With ration papers the new currency of the land,
the response had outstripped his wildest expectation, filling the
banks with more than enough gold to satisfy Arin. That had solved
one problem. Now, it was a matter of getting it to the Darthur
without anyone knowing.