The False Martyr (73 page)

“
I know exactly what he
is.” The valati stepped into the room, set the tray on the table,
and shut the door behind him. His eyes turned to Dasen. “I know
what you are as well. You, however, are disadvantaged. Please allow
me to introduce myself so that the balance can be restored. My name
is Valati Gian Lareno, formerly of Thoren.”

Teth blinked. Even she had
heard of Valati Lareno. It had been enough of a scandal when he was
appointed – a monk from the Hall of Understanding elevated to
valati of a significant city in the Kingdoms – that it had reached
all the way to Randor’s Pass. She looked at Dasen. He was
dumbstruck, eyes wide, body stiff, jaw moving without forming
words. “Are you the valati that Kian has mentioned?” Teth asked to
spare her husband.

“
I am. I hope he was not
too unkind. I am the one who brought him and his fellows here, and
I’m not sure if they thank or curse me for the favor.” He tried to
laugh, but it died when it failed to find followers. “I pulled them
from the river, and we followed it here. Now, we work together to
see that the Order’s will is done. We have been looking for you two
for a while. I wish I could have come to see you sooner, but I was
. . . detained. When Mr. Tappers told me what he’d done with you,”
he paused to look at the two of them again, “I thought he’d gone
mad, but now I see the Order in it.”

Teth’s eyes narrowed at
the implication, but she tried not to let it show, tried not to
drive the knife into the man’s neck for just mentioning the
Order-cursed Order.

“
Who is this . . . Kian?”
Dasen was saying, trying still to cover their identities. “And what
exactly is it that you seem to know, Your Excellence?”

“
I know that you are Dasen
Ronigan,” the valati said. “I know what you did outside Thoren. I
know that you can use the powers of Lawbreakers, that your own
father has put an astounding ransom on your return. I know that
this is your wife, that the ransom on her is less only by
difference in your weights. Is that enough, or shall I
continue?”

“
That’s enough,” Teth
sighed. “What do you want from us?”

Dasen gasped at her tone,
surely appalled that she would speak so to a member of his blessed
Church, but failed to find words of his own.

“
Simply to introduce
myself,” the valati stepped forward and took Dasen’s limp hand. “I
knew that you would be coming, and now that you have arrived, I see
the Order’s plan laid out as never before. But enough of that,
there will be much time for strategizing in the coming days. For
now, I simply wanted to meet you and wish you peace in the Order.”
He bowed slightly and showed himself to the door. “Have a good
night’s sleep,” he said as he left. Dasen responded in kind but was
too stunned to say anything further.

Teth felt her blood run
cold. Saw the Order in it, was right. He was another of the
Weaver’s tools. Whether he knew it or not, he was carrying out the
commands of a dead old man. Yet even in death, that old man would
not let her have peace. He would haunt her for the rest of her
miserable life. She just hoped her misery – and life – was almost
done.

“
I’m going to clean off,”
she said and followed the valati out of the room. Dasen stammered
behind her, but she paid him no mind. The Order could go fuck
itself. She was going to die. Not right now, but soon enough, and
then even the Order would have to let her go.

Chapter 42

The
37
^th
Day of Summer

“
What was I possibly
supposed to learn from that?” Cary asked, slightly exasperated. He
had just spent hours crammed into a hidden cabinet in the room
where the Thull was taking place. It was the fifth day he’d watched
the proceedings, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stand up straight
again. “I can’t understand a word they’re saying, and they’re so
polite that I can’t even tell what side anyone’s on. Why would you
ever pick a spy that can’t understand what he’s overhearing?” He
rubbed his back as he spoke, trying to work out a cramp in the
muscles along his spine.

“
You are correct,” Juhn
conceded. He circled away from Cary in the small room. Cary had
been here a few times and knew it was the order master’s private
quarters, though it was a small, windowless, and entirely
utilitarian room that could only be reached via the order passages
– not at all suited for the Order’s highest representative in the
Fells. Cary wondered again if Juhn had more extravagant quarters in
Eselhelt where the order keepers maintained their hierarchy or if
being the Order’s representative was simply not as lofty a position
here.

“
I mean, you’re in all
those meetings, why do you need me there? It’s not like I’m
learning anything that you don’t already know. The ambassador is
going to flay me when I tell him again that I don’t know anything.
I mean, given the risk, it’s absurd.”

Cary was so deep into the
rant that had been building for three days that he did not notice
the order master nodding along with each accusation, did not even
think where it might lead. Though he was upset about the way he was
being used, his frustration was partially fueled by his inability
to make good on the promise he’d made four days ago. Though he saw
Noé every day, he was not able to do anything about it. He saw her
in the Thull meetings, sitting directly across from his hiding
place, always in his vision, absorbing his thoughts so that they
could not possibly stay on the incomprehensible discussion. She
almost never spoke in the meetings, jumped if addressed, and kept
her hand almost continuously before the gap in her lip, but her
eyes were watchful, attention constant, sparse words
precise.

Cary wished he could say
the same for himself. He had paid scant attention to the meetings.
Part of it was that he could not understood what was being said,
but words were a small part of communication. Even without knowing
the words, he probably could have gotten something out of the
proceedings if he could concentrate. Instead, he spent most of the
time considering Noé, oscillating between his plans to seduce her,
his fantasies of what would happen when he did, and the images of a
big hand pressing her face into the bed, of the look on her face
when Zhurn threatened her child, of his sister in a similar
position, of the tear-streaked faces and the promises he had made
in response to each. All those emotions, thoughts, conflicts were
only exacerbated by the fact that he could not act on them. Every
time he tried to visit Noé, she had visitors – sisters, other
Mothers, servants (in as much as the Morgs had servants) – who
never seemed to leave. The sole bright spot was that the visitor
was never her husband.

“
I agree with you
completely,” Juhn said when Cary’s rant petered. “I never should
have suggested this. The Thull has proven that Nyel was right. You
are not needed. You will return to your people and not enter the
order passages again. You are no longer needed.”

“
What?” Cary could not
believe what he was hearing. “Wait. What do you mean? I thought you
had seen it in the Order or some such.”

“
I was wrong.” Juhn
shrugged as if saying he’d forgotten to oil a saddle. I am the
youngest order master that anyone can remember and have held the
post only since the tragedy in Eselhelt took my master, less than a
year ago. In many ways, I am still learning my position, and in
this, I was wrong.” Juhn walked to the other side of the desk that
dominated the room’s corner but did not sit.

“
What . . . what about the
Thull?” Cary could not believe he was actually getting what he’d
asked for. Certainly, he was tired to sitting in that cupboard, but
he never expected to be dismissed. Now, he was fighting panic as he
realized the full implications of what the order master was saying.
“I . . . I can help you determine what the Mothers are thinking. I
just need more time watching them outside that meeting. I can’t do
much in there where they won’t shows their hands, but after, I can
find out what they are really thinking . . . who their meeting with
. . . what their moods are like.” He realized he sounded desperate.
“That was all I meant, that the
Thull
is not a good use of my
skills, I can still do a lot outside of that.”

“
I’m sure that is true,”
Juhn said, condescending as if to a child, “but it is unnecessary.
There is nothing to discover.” He sighed and looked at the desk
before him. “The truth is that I underestimated Nyel. I had only
met her once before. I thought this would be close. The three
eastern lodges only need to delay things, and to do that, they need
only two other lodges. I thought the Callik would dismiss your
offer immediately, the relevant lodges would accept the Empire, and
the Mothers would delay long enough for the Thull to no longer
matter. Today, Nyel eliminated those concerns. She all but ensured
that she would get unanimous support whenever she calls for it.
Clearly, I should have listened to her from the beginning and saved
you all this.”

“
But I just . . . .” Cary
struggled to say anything that might save his position. “This is
too important to take any chances. Surely, there are Mothers that
can change things. How can you know that they will side with Nyel.
I mean, the . . . the very fate of my country . . . of both our
countries lie in the balance. We cannot leave it to chance. There
must be some way . . . .”

“
It is just as you said,
this is too important to take any chances. Using you as a spy was
always a great risk. The only risk now is in allowing it to
continue.”

“
How . . . how could
everything have changed so fast?” Cary could not believe what he
was hearing. His panic was growing with each word, mind spinning.
Did this mean he would never see Noé again? “Are you
sure?”

Juhn sighed long and deep,
seeming to accept that this would not be as easy as he had hoped.
“Nyel did something today that no one expected, even me.” He sighed
again, placing his hands on the desk before him. “I’m surprised
that you did not notice. The entire room fell silent as if the very
air had been sucked from it.” Another pause and Cary did remember.
The moment had come toward the end, and though he remembered a
change in the room, he would have said it was more like a lingering
fart than collective affixation. “That reaction came from the mere
hint that Torswauk could change the thuluk raln shatar depending on
how the invaders are handled.” Juhn stopped and stared at Cary as
if that should have eliminated any further questions.

It had not. “What is the
thuck rain shitter?” Cary asked, shock not enough for him to pass
on a chance to mangle the foreign words. “Why is changing it so
important, and why wouldn’t she have just done that from the
beginning?”

“
The thuluck raln shatar
is the very center of Morg culture. It is the basis on which our
lodges are built. Though everyone knew how serious she was about
the Lost Sons, no one thought she would go so far as to threaten
such a tradition. Her willingness to do so means that she is
confident in her support from Mehret, and together, they could
destroy the smaller lodges by changing the thuluck raln shatar.
None of those can now be the first to oppose her, and without a
first, there can be no second, third, fourth, or fifth. The Mothers
will continue their discussions for several days, but the main
topic is already decided.”

Cary felt his heart
sinking. “Can you explain?” he asked then quickly added, “So I can
tell Ambassador Chulters what is happening. He is certain to ask,
and I want to make sure he understands.”

Juhn stared for a long
time, and Cary soon wondered if he should simply leave. “This is
not something for outsiders to know,” he said finally, “but I see
the wisdom in your request. Liandria is still needed, and we cannot
let a misunderstanding ruin what has been built.”

He took a long breath and
spent a moment ordering his thoughts. “First, you must understand
that only women are born to a lodge. Men must prove themselves
worthy to join a lodge outside the one that has raised them. As
such, every autumn the men from each lodge travel to other lodges
to complete the caratht, a series of competitions designed to show
that they are worthy to join the lodge. The order that they visit
the lodges changes every year. This rotation is the thuluck raln
shatar. It was set centuries ago to ensure that every lodge has the
opportunity to add men from every other lodge. To threaten it is
like your king threatening to change the right to hereditary
nobility. It would bring your nobles immediately into line, but he
could only do it if he was absolutely certain that he has the
strength to carry out the threat. The same thing applies here. Nyel
can only threaten the thaluck raln shatar if she can follow through
on it. If not, Torswauk’s very place as the preeminent lodge would
be lost, and she would be almost certainly be replaced as Mother.”
Juhn paused to let that sink in. Cary didn’t understand the
tradition, but he understood the analogy. The nobility would rise
up at the thought of losing their titles. So much so that, if the
king could not back the threat, he would be the one
overthrown.

But this isn’t the
same
. “Why does it matter? Won’t the
lodges just make a new thuluck . . . whatever?”

Juhn shook his head. “You
are not understanding. You see there is always a shortage of men in
the Fells. Completing the caratht is no small thing. Some men,
knowing their deficiencies,” Juhn motioned to himself, “choose the
Order rather than certain humiliation, dismemberment, or death.
Still others, will never complete the contest no matter how many
lodges they visit. These are known as völk. Without a lodge, they
leave the Fells to sell their services in the South. Still more
will not survive the caratht or will be severely injured. Add to
this the simple dangers of a man’s life – hunting, trapping,
mining, forging, and fighting – and you see there are never enough
men. A woman without a husband is yuté. They are a step below in
our hierarchy. They are servants and hand maiden. They can take any
man to their beds, but they have no power over these men and those
available are usually ones whose wives will not have them. You can
imagine what that means. It is a life that all women
fear.”