The False Martyr (114 page)

Ipid paced the floor of
his office, waiting. He desperately wished that he could have
accompanied the thieves on their missions but was left to imagine
what was happening in the vault of every major bank in the
Kingdoms, to imagine the ramps being built, the gold sliding down
those ramps through the magical portals that led to the Darthur
home, the young men and women who built those ramps being taken to
learn the ways of the te-am ‘eiruh so that no witnesses remained.
It was the one idea that had survived from the night that Eia
turned all his other plans on their heads, and if it worked, the
people of the Kingdoms would not even realize that the gold was
gone until both Ipid and the Darthur had followed it out of their
lands.

Now, it just had to work.
Any complications or discovery would bring everything he had done
crashing down. The resulting riots would tear the Kingdoms apart
just as the end was in sight. And Ipid could barely stand the
waiting to find out. He paced like a cat in a cage. The minutes
crept by like hours. With the sum total of the Kingdom’s military
forces marching through the city to join the Darthur and another
curfew in place, his office was entirely empty. Not even Eia was
there to distract or comfort him.

And though the thought of
her was certainly a distraction, it provided little comfort. Their
night together in Dorington had been the breakthrough that Eia had
wanted. A horrific odyssey of pain, depravation, and extraordinary
release, it had left him feeling cleansed. All his pain, sorrow,
guilt, anger, and longing had poured into that one act. In that
swirl of emotions, his every constraint had been stripped away, and
he had done things that he never would have allowed himself to
consider. Again and again, falling lower and lower, deeper and
deeper until the morning light had cut through the darkness. But
this time, the light brought no guilt. The pain he shared with Eia
had been catharsis, a shared experience that brought them together
as no other could. Even now, he felt the burns on his chest, the
gouges along his back, the ache in his still healing arm from the
previous night, and thought of them not as pain but
pleasure.

Feeling himself falling
into the memory, he returned his thoughts to the week to come. As
he paced, the sum of the Kingdom’s military was marching to join
the Darthur. They came from the south through Gorin up the Alta,
through Orinsburg to join the northern flank on the banks of Lake
Inver, preparing to invade the Fells when Liandria had surrendered,
and finally, through Wildern, taking with them any hope that Ipid
had of controlling the Kingdom’s capital. Even now, Arin and his
army would be arriving at their staging ground north of Lianne and
preparing to cross, preparing for another Battle of Testing,
preparing to receive another vassal. And the army of the Kingdoms
would help them, would fight their ally, would aid the invaders in
their conquest of the world because there was no other option
available.

“
This is it,” Ipid told
himself. The gold would be delivered today. The food and weapons
had been supplied, enough to feed Arin’s army for weeks, and the
marching men carried more. The Kingdoms had been stripped bare. He
had done what he’d promised. The only thing left was to wait for
the end, wait for the mobs, wait for his place in infamy. If not
for his desire to burnish Stully’s reputation by allowing himself
to be overthrown, he could join Arin today, could walk through one
of Eia’s portals and be done.

The appearance of a portal
in the center of the room brought him finally from his worries. He
turned and watched Eia step from it as casually as if walking
through a door. “Is it done?” he nearly leapt at her.

“
Hello, my love,” Eia
answered. “How was your day? You look tired, let me rub your
shoulders.” She threw back the hood of her robe. “Are you sure you
wouldn’t rather start with something like that?”

Ipid took a breath. He was
not in the mood for her games. “Hello, my love,” he said, trying to
find a smile. “How was your day? You look tired, let me rub your
shoulders.”

“
It has been a long day.
But my feet are what really hurt.” She fell into a chair beside his
desk and lifted her feet over the arm. She slid her slippers off
and wiggled her toes at him.

Eyes rolling, Ipid took a
foot that was almost smaller than his hand. He pressed on the arch
and heel, running his fingers over the calloused skin. Eia moaned
and threw her head back. “Mmmm, other one.”

Ipid complied. “So how did
it go?” He tried to keep his voice casual as if asking her about a
day spent shopping for dresses.

“
Oh, you know, same old
thing.” Eia watched him through languid eyes. “Calves now,
please.”

Ipid moved his hands up
her slim legs, massaging her calves, caressing the smooth skin.
“Anything exciting happen?” he tried again, dying to know but
caught in her game, forced to play.

“
I think I’ll have a
bath,” she sighed. “It was dirty work. I feel as if I am absolutely
covered in gold. Do I sparkle?” She looked down at herself,
brushing her robes, then brought her eyes back, waiting for a
reaction.

“
You got it?”

“
Got a bath? No, I was
hoping you would draw one for me.” Eia raised the foot that he was
not holding and ran it down his chest.

“
We have servants for
that.”

“
But how will you pay
them? All your gold is gone. Every scrap of it.”

Ipid felt his spirits
lifting through the very roof.

“
Ouch!” Eia gasped. Ipid
looked down at his hands and saw that he had been squeezing her leg
in his excitement. “Save that for later.” She stood and reversed
their positions, pushing him into the chair behind him. “It is all
there. The Darthur wives have accepted it.” She straddled him and
ran her fingers through his hair. “The young men and women who
helped to load it have gone with my brothers and sisters to be
trained. No one knows what we have done. If you keep the banks
sealed, they will not know for weeks. You have done it.” She leaned
forward and nipped at his lip with her teeth before settling in for
a kiss.

Ipid prepared himself for
what the kiss suggested, gathered the emotions he had bottled for
this very moment.

Eia pushed off of him and
rose to her feet. “I really do want a bath.”

She strode from the room,
leaving Ipid to feel the loss of her as he felt the relief of yet
another task completed. Then he remembered what his reward would be
for completing this duty. He watched the door where she had
departed as much for her return as for the mob that could come any
day to end his tyrannical reign.

Chapter 66

The
53
^rd
Day of Summer

“
Are you ready?” Valati
Lareno whispered in Dasen’s ear. They stood before the carved
double doors that led from the River Maiden to the militarized city
outside. Light streamed through the windows at the top of each of
those doors such that Dasen could see nothing outside. He wondered
what waited for him. A mob as Lareno promised or soldiers set to
arrest him as he feared. And was the mob any better?

“
Remember,” Lareno
whispered again. “We are just stirring the pot. Create a standoff
then back down. Don’t give the governor or the crowd any reason to
act.”

Dasen nodded. They had
been over the plan a half-dozen times in his room as Mrs. Tappers
applied the disguise that made him into the sainted Deena Esther.
The Governor had extended the city curfew another day. No one was
allowed out of their homes, even to attend the weekly lessons. But
Lady Esther, of course, could not be kept from the temple on a holy
day. Valati Lareno and Mr. Tappers had been spreading rumors all
night that she intended to break her house arrest, that she would
go to the lessons, would defy the governor yet again.

“
The window is short,”
Lareno urged, words growing more heated as Dasen hesitated. Behind
them, a crowd that filled the River Maiden common room then flowed
down the halls into the courtyard was growing restless. “We need to
act now before the governor can move to stop us.”

Dasen took a deep, shaking
breath. He found Teth at his side, dressed as a boy, slicked-back
hair covered by a conical hat, shirt buttoned to her throat, silk
scarf tied around it, black vest and jacket, grey pants, polished
black shoes with silver buckles. She managed a nervous smile. “You
don’t have to do this,” she said.

Valati Lareno sighed at
that, but Dasen knew Teth was wrong. They had come too far to stop
now. He took another deep breath. “I go to hear the Order lesson,”
he announced to the door before him.

With another breath, he
pushed the doors open and stepped to the street beyond. The crowd
behind him roared, but Dasen barely heard them over the rush of
blood in his ears. He was blinded by the bright light outside.
Lareno caught his arm and steadied him. The crowd gasped then
roared as he found his feet. Before him, Dasen saw nothing but the
blurred outlines of the row houses bordered by the blinding light
of the sun.
Where is the crowd?
He felt his insides shake and legs
tremble.
Lareno’s mob is not here. I’m on
my own.

“
Lady Esther,” a voice
called from down the street to his left. Dasen turned. His eyes
were finally adjusting to the light so that he could see the young
man coming around the corner. His name was Tomas Cappers. Tall,
handsome, and the first son of one of Gorin’s most prominent
families, he had been with the crowd the day of Lady Esther’s first
miracle and had become, in many ways, her leading disciple. “My
lady,” he called again and bowed low, “may we accompany you to the
weekly lessons?” He rose and strode forward so that Dasen saw
Kian’s man, Jaren, flanking him. Sly faced and clever, he had been
among the crowds accompanying him from the beginning and had become
adept at yelling ‘miracle’ at opportune times.

For a second, Dasen
thought it would be only the two of them and his heart sank. Then
the others came around the same corner. At the lead were men and
women that he recognized from his first days of gathering food, but
soon others followed, hundreds of men and women. They were still
mainly younger, but all ages were represented. Dasen felt his pride
swell. He knew that he did not deserve it but could not help but
feel that he had done something remarkable.

“
And us?” another voice
called from his right. Shifting his gaze, Dasen found another young
man, this one more ragged. Riley Fox had not joined Lady Esther
until the third day, but he had been a quick convert and risen
fast. From the lower castes of the city, he brought with him dock
workers and porters from the north side of the city along with
their women and children. This group was even larger and more
diverse than the far cleaner and better dressed crowd that flowed
from the other side.

Dasen felt himself grow.
“The Order has guided us!” he shouted. “Let nothing deny us Its
lessons this day!” He turned and strode as boldly as was possible
for a person wearing ten pounds of silk and lace toward the temple.
The crowd from the inn joined the two flowing from the streets and
settled into a mass that filled the entirety of the wide street,
stretching on for blocks. Before them, a patrol of soldiers watched
wide-eyed then abandoned their posts and ran for the hill. Dasen
led his followers around the corner to the city’s main street, the
one that would lead to the front doors of the temple.

The refugees who still
sought asylum in its walls each night surrounded the temple. Valati
Nommeck stood at the front of the crowd to receive them.
This is easy
, Dasen
thought. There was nothing to block him. He need only lead his
followers to the temple doors a few short blocks away. He took a
breath and strode toward the hill.

The sound of horses slowed
him almost as soon as he started. A dozen riders charged into the
last intersection before they began their ascent. For a heartbeat,
Dasen thought they would charge, but they pulled up with great
effort and pivoted to face the crowd. The riders wore hastily
gathered bits of armor and the livery of the city guards, but the
way they rode suggested that these were not common soldiers. The
man in the middle of the group pulled off his helmet and urged his
horse forward. It was Governor Colmar. He drew his sword and lifted
it above his head.

“
Disperse,” he yelled,
powerful voice creating a ripple in the crowd. “This city is under
curfew for your own protection. The weekly lessons are cancelled by
order of the Di Valati. If you do not return to your homes
immediately, you will be arrested and taken to the camp outside
town.”

The crowd shook behind
Dasen, murmured back and forth, but held their ground. A few men
toward the front shouted indistinct insults and threats.

Dasen raised a hand clad
in pale-blue silk to stop them. He cleared his throat, took a
breath, and prayed that his voice would hold. “I live my life
according to the teaching of the Order,” he announced. His voice
lacked the governor’s power or command, but he felt the crowd
consolidate behind him at hearing it. “The Order has chosen me, has
chosen us, to see that Its will is done. It has shown us a way to
feed those who would starve, to heal those who were sick, to come
together despite our hardships and see Its will done. You cannot
deny us the right to hear Its message this day. We will come to the
temple, we will hear the lesson, and we will do the Order’s
bidding. We want no violence to mar the Order on this Its clearest
day. Please, allow us to pass. We seek only the peace of the Order
and to align ourselves to Its everlasting power.”