The False Martyr (72 page)

“
You disturb nothing,”
Garth growled. “This is an insult to the turth-koate. It needed to
end before the Order saw it and punished us all.” He returned to
the plate of food, tearing apart the beef ribs with his fingers. He
mumbled what had to be curses in his native language beneath his
breath.

Dasen was frozen. Teth had
said that she needed space, but he had not thought that meant
treating each other as strangers. He took a tentative step toward
her, trying to think of something to say.

The door flew open behind
him. He spun expecting to see a crowd of gapers led by one of the
children he had seen in the halls. He fully expected that they
were, at this moment, telling the entire population of Gorin about
the emergence of the ugly half-Morg lady from the north. He nearly
tripped over the dress in his effort to turn and back away
simultaneously. A strong hand caught his elbow and steadied
him.

“
And who might this lovely
creature be?” Kian asked as he clasped Dasen’s elbow. He pulled
himself in uncomfortably close, running his eyes to Dasen’s bodice
then back up to his face and hair. If Dasen had truly been a woman
of noble birth, the proximity and perusal would have required a
sharp and painful reprisal from her bodyguard. As it was, Garth
just grunted and worked at his ribs. Finally, Kian released Dasen’s
elbow and stepped back. “Garth, by the Order! You’re supposed to be
this lady’s bodyguard. As far as their type is concerned, I very
nearly raped her, and you barely moved a muscle. Morg or no, you
wouldn’t keep your job a day.”

“
Humph,” the Morg snorted
and took a bite of meat.

Kian abandoned Dasen to
close on the Morg, giving Dasen the space to recover his senses. He
could smell Kian now, rank and sour. His shirt was nearly as damp
as Teth’s. His hair no longer dripped, but it was plastered to his
head. His pants were marked with mud, boots covered in the sticky
brown stuff. And he walked with a noticeable limp. Dasen was amazed
that Mark had ever allowed him in and that he had made it through
all the gentlemen in the main room looking like a soldier just
returned from battle.

“
Do you have a problem,
Garth?” Kian asked the Morg, who barely seemed to acknowledge him.
He was a big man, but he looked like a child next to Garth, was
barely taller than the Morg even as he sat on the bench. “We all
have parts to play here. The valati pulled us from the river for a
reason. Now, play your part or get out.”

“
Humph,” the Morg
answered, but he turned his face toward Kian as he said it. The
soldier somehow stared the Morg down. Finally, Garth nodded, set
his plate down, and walked to Dasen. “My lady, would you like me to
deal with this man?”

Dasen was not sure what to
say. Kian saved him the effort. “Much better,” he chuckled. “Next
time, don’t wait so long, and don’t be so gentle. You don’t ask,
you handle it. Otherwise, I’m pleased to see you working with young
Master Esther. In these troubled times, every young man should have
some martial training. In this case, it fits the story and will
keep you both out of trouble. We also need to return our goddess of
war to a semblance of the creature who earned the
title.”

Kian sat down and began
picking at the plate of food that had been left for Teth. It
contained far more refined fare – the hind portion of a duck
roasted in a dark sauce, carrots dripping butter, and rice with
nuts and raisins. He tore off a bite of the duck without any regard
for whose meal he was stealing.

Dasen eyed Teth. She had
been watching them from her place on the ground. Her eyes narrowed,
jaw locked, but the anger was gone just as fast. She looked away,
her head returning to the space between her knees.

“
. . . had an adventure
today,” Kian was saying. He seemed to not care if anyone was
listening. “Seems they finally decided to guard the wagons coming
into the city. I guess it was just a matter of time. Good thing
none of the guards had ever used a weapon with any intent of
actually hurting someone.”

“
Anyone hurt?” the Morg
asked, concern entering his voice.

“
No one other than the
guard I shot. Once the others knew we were shooting to kill and
they weren’t, they dropped. Just a bunch a scared kids really. We
let them go, but I think that’ll be the last caravan we take. Can’t
risk anyone actually getting hurt at this point, and we’ve already
got plenty of food. Even the valati said it’s time to move on.
Sounds like he’s got something else planned. I wonder how long
he’ll make us wait before we know what it is.”

“
Humph,” Garth grunted
between bites, showing the taciturn indifference that was expected
of Morgs.

“
I’d guess that it has
something to do with this beauty.” Kian smiled and turned back to
Dasen. “The valati was very interested to hear about you. I could
almost see the wheels turning behind his scheming eyes. And I can
see why. Who’d have guessed that my cousin’s Order-damned wife
would do us any good, but there it is. If I didn’t know better, I’d
think he really was a woman. Tallest one I’ve ever seen, but the
rest is perfect.”

“
You, on the other hand,
my dear,” he turned to Teth, “look like you’ve been through the
Maelstrom. And since your husband looks fine, I’m guessing it’s
been self-imposed.”

When Teth refused to
respond to the prompts, Kian turned to Dasen. “I know what this is,
you know. We haven’t had anything like it around here in a long
time, but my grandpa served in the wars. He was a good man, but
sometimes, he would just go away somewhere. He wouldn’t eat or
sometimes even get out of bed for days. And if you yelled or made
the door crash he’d jump a mile in the air and come down crying.”
He turned back to Teth. “My grandma said the war was still goin’ on
in his head, that he’d never left the field outside Dorington. Is
that where you are? Are you still on a field outside Thoren? You
still fighting?”

Teth looked at him
stunned. Her eyes darted from him to Dasen and back again. She
seemed not to breathe. Kian had hit it. Dasen had thought the
battle was part of Teth’s troubles but had never considered that it
could weigh on her like that, that she would still be carrying it
around with her. Dasen remembered the battle, dreamed of it, felt
it, but he knew it wasn’t real, knew it was in the past, and that
there was nothing he could do about it but let it go. But if Teth
couldn’t do that, if she was still living that terrible day. . .
.

“
I see it sometimes too,”
Kian continued, voice distant. “I dream about it. I mean,” he
paused and wiped his face, “something like that you don’t forget.
It haunts you, but my da always said, ‘ghosts can either haunt us
or help us, and you get to pick which it is.’ He also used to say
that, ‘The Order can only shape what it has. It can make a sword
sharp or dull, but it’s still a sword, not a plow.”

Teth retracted to the
first axiom as if slapped, the second as if punched in the stomach.
She looked at Kian with a mix of shock, anguish, and disbelief then
leapt to her feet and ran for the door.

“
Shit,” Dasen grumbled as
he fought his dress to intercept her. She brushed past him and was
out the door before he could get the hoops in his skirt pointed the
right direction.

“
What’d I say?” Kian
asked. He looked honestly confused, but Dasen thought he saw an air
of mischief in his eye.

“
Her aunt used to say
that,” Dasen grumbled as he turned to chase Teth. “She raised Teth
and probably died in Randor’s Pass. And, trust me, Teth has enough
ghosts to populate the whole of the afterlife. I better see if
she’s alright. Since you’re eating her dinner, can you ask Mr.
Tappers to bring another plate to our room?”

Kian nodded and rubbed his
chin. “Watch her,” he called to Dasen’s back. “I never knew my
granddad. He threw himself in the river when my da was a boy.”
Dasen turned and looked back, questioning. “My grandma told me
about him. She said it was the war that killed him, that he thought
he should have died on that field and eventually saw to it
himself.”

Dasen did not know what to
say. He thought about Teth over the past few weeks. Everything that
Kian had said fit, but he could not imagine Teth hurting herself.
She had already been through so much, had fought for so long. How
could this be what defeated her? And hadn’t she said that it was
something she learned at the Weavers’ compound that had upset her?
Still, certain phrases came back to him, certain actions, and he
found his pace increasing as he passed through the door into the
hall.

Luckily, he realized what
he was doing before he reached the common room. He forced himself
to lower the dress and to shorten his stride. He composed himself,
folded his hands before him, and made his face demure. He walked by
the room slowly and tried not to catch the eye of the crowd. He was
very nearly successful.

His gaze rose on its own
to the bar. A short man in a brown robe with the shining silver
pendant of a valati caught his eyes and held them. He was speaking
with Mr. Tappers, but his focus was on Dasen as if he had expected
to see him appear. Dasen studied his buck teeth, balding head,
pockmarked face and tried to place him in the lexicon of faces from
his life so long ago. He could not, so he forced his eyes away and
hurried after his wife.

#

Teth held the knife’s edge
above her wrist, watched it glisten in the fading light that shown
through the lone window. It was sharp, already marked with blood
where she had tested it on her thumb. A couple of quick slashes and
it would be done. They’d never stop the bleeding in time. Her life
would pump from her veins, and she would fade into the nothing that
certainly waited. She took a deep breath, watched the orange glow
of the setting sun in the window and brought the knife slowly
down.

“
Teth, let me in!” Dasen
yelled from outside. The stupid boy had used her real name, had not
even tried to disguise his voice. He pounded on the door like he
might knock it in.

And when he did knock the
door down? When the people in the inn learned what had happened?
He’d be devastated and discovered. Everything would be ruined.
She’d have kill him, not only broken his heart, but given him to
the invaders. She took a long shaking breath.

Dasen pounded again with
even greater urgency. “Teth, are you alright? Please let me in.
I’ll get . . . .”

Teth unlatched the door.
She put the knife on the desk and wiped her dripping
eyes.

Dasen exploded into the
room in a flurry of silk, lace, and perfume. “By the Order, Teth,”
he gasped. “Why did you lock the door?” He looked at her then at
the table, eyes locking on the knife then growing wide. “You . . .
I mean . . . you weren’t thinking of . . .”

Teth managed to laugh.
“What?” She snuffled and wiped her eyes again. “Have you ever known
me to be without a knife? I stole it from the kitchen then cut
myself getting it out of my pocket.” She held up her bloody thumb
and tried to laugh. It ended in a sob.

Dasen came to her, closing
the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around her, but the dress
was so ridiculous that Teth could only chuckle. “By the Order, look
at us,” she said.

“
Are you alright, Teth?”
he asked, ignoring her diversion. “I’m worried about you. I love
you. We are joined. I know you don’t believe all that stuff, but it
is my duty to protect you. I promised that I would, just like you
protected me in the forest. It’s my turn now, so let me help.” He
looked at her, nearly begging.

“
I’m fine,” she forced a
laugh. “It was just . . . that was what my aunt used to tell me all
the time.” She snuffled then accepted the lace handkerchief that
Dasen offered. “When Kian said it, it made me think of her, and how
she’s probably dead, and I’ll never see her again.” Teth broke down
at that. She held the handkerchief to her face and fell onto
Dasen’s silk clad shoulder. She didn’t mention that it was Kian’s
second adage that had nearly made her end it all –
always a sword, never a plow
.

Dasen put his arm
cautiously around her. She let him but felt his hesitation –
from my sweat or my words,
she wondered. “Teth, I’m . . . are you . . . what Kian said
is it . . . .”

A sharp knock cut Dasen
off before he could find the words. Teth shot from his shoulder and
began dabbing at her eyes. She took a deep breath just as the door
came open.

“
I hope I’m not disturbing
you,” a raspy voice said. There were a handful of faces that Teth
expected to appear through the door. A short, ugly valati was not
one of them. He carried a tray before him, but the brown robe and
intricately crafted pendant were clear. Just when her life could
not get any stranger, a full valati brought her dinner. “I wanted
to meet you,” he explained, “so Mr. Tappers allowed me to bring up
your tray.”

Teth wanted to laugh. One
more inspection confirmed what she already knew. He was of a rank
to guide a large city in its adherence to the Order. He would most
certainly outrank Dasen and Teth’s assumed identities, yet he was
carrying a tray of food like a serving boy.

“
Please, Your Excellence,”
Dasen stammered from a few feet away. He was blushing and
flustered, was about to lose all sense of his new identity.
“Certainly, you . . . I mean . . . Your Excellence, you . . . you
did not need to carry a tray. We would have been happy to meet you
at your convenience.” He looked down at Teth through his
stammering. The valati just watched her with his dull, brown eyes,
studied her, seemed not even to hear Dasen’s distress. “I . . . I
am sorry for my brother. He has . . . it has been a hard few days.
We just returned from a pilgrimage and learned about the invasion.
We have no idea if our home and family are safe in the Stormwoods,
and he is . . . .”