The False Martyr (52 page)

“
Liano,” Ipid greeted
warmly. He had no actual affection for the wizard but knew the
power that the appearance of such would have among the workers –
they needed to be constantly reminded that he was the only thing
keeping them from the Exiles’ destructive powers. “So you have
found a way to clear the roads?”

Liano’s hood rose at
Ipid’s tone. He was still clearly not used to being commanded by
someone outside his order, but he, thankfully, did not make a point
of it here. His eyes glanced to Eia, and his face stiffened. Ipid
followed but saw nothing more on Eia’s face than the indifferent,
mildly confused look that she had taken as her regular mask. “Lord
Chancellor,” Liano finally answered. “I will
demonstrate.”

“
All men back,” the
foreman bellowed as Liano turned. The workers scattered, scrambling
up, around, and through the rubble to get clear of the slab they
had elevated. Ipid looked to Liano. The man stood profile to him
now, but he could see his hands twitching in his sleeves. Ipid felt
the, now familiar, tug as his emotions were pulled away. The men
around the slab of stone stopped their retreat. They looked
confused, stared blankly, were lost. The stone started to come
apart. At first, Ipid thought it was melting, then he realized that
it was just breaking apart. The small grains and pebbles that made
up the sedimentary stone simply stopped holding together. Starting
at the top of the structure and flowing down the angle, the rock
turned into course sand and rock until it was nothing more than a
pile at the side of the road.

A man screamed, the sound
cut off by the great rush of stones. Ipid’s eyes shot to the base
of the stone slab and watched as rock poured over a man who had not
moved fast enough to escape the avalanche. The man fought, but his
legs were already caught. Sand and stone rained on him, accumulated
around him, covered him, crept up his body until it closed on his
face and his screaming stopped.

“
Get him out of there!”
the foreman called. His eyes were on Liano, filled with disgust.
The workers likewise stared at him with loathing before scrambling
to save their friend.

Ipid could not keep the
shock from his face and only just kept himself from berating Liano
on the spot. Biting his tongue so that he could barely manage
words, he finally said, “Liano, could you join me in my
coach?”

The wizard’s cowl turned
to Ipid, showing his concern. “In a moment.” He turned back to the
scene and watched as the desperate workers shoveled sand away from
their fellow. A dozen of them worked at it, moving with wild
urgency until they reached the man’s head and slowly – oh so slowly
– cleared his face. The man drew a great breath, gulping and
choking for air. The entire worksite gave a sigh of relief, but it
was soon replaced by grumbling and venomous stares that were barely
suppressed by the power of the two men at whom they were
directed.

“
I can join you now,”
Liano said as he climbed the steps to the coach.

Ipid followed him,
motioning Jon to remain outside as he and Eia nearly collided as
they attempted to climb up after him. The chief advisor, offered a
hand to Eia then walked to speak with the foreman. Inside the
coach, Ipid was rounding on Liano, preparing to rip him up one side
then back down the other. A cool hand stopped him. He looked around
at Eia, brown eyes. They were compassionate, expression
sad.

“
He had to,” she said. “My
dear, do you see how it has hurt him.” She motioned to Liano, but
Ipid could not see anything through the man’s downturned hood. “He
was horrified by seeing that man buried and could not move from his
spot until he saw him rescued. He was literally paralyzed by what
he had done, but it was necessary.”

“
How is that necessary?”
Ipid asked, indignant. “He only needed to wait another minute for
the men to be clear. It wouldn’t have cost anything.”

“
It would have cost
everything.”

“
I know what you think,”
Liano interjected, hood rising to show his dark features. He looked
cowed, but Ipid saw no sorrow in his eyes. “You think me cruel and
uncaring, but if I am to do what you ask, I must have power to call
upon. As you saw, we have developed a system that works. I
considered many options, but none was practical – making the rock
explode would cause far more injuries than you just saw; turning it
to water was far too great a change in the Order for me,
transporting it away only works if someone pushes it through the
portal. In the end, I realized that these stones are all made of
other tiny stones held together by the Order. Breaking that law is
relatively easy. The stones are transformed into piles of pebbles
and sand that can easily be shoveled from the road, or if propped
as that one was, caused to flow off the road directly.”

“
That’s all fine,” Ipid
snapped. “I agree with the idea. But there is no reason for it to
be dangerous. On the contrary, it sounds very safe if you do it
properly.”

“
That is the problem,” Eia
supplied. “Liano, dear boy, has come up with such an excellent
solution to the problem that it eliminates his very ability to do
it.”

“
What?” Ipid shook his
head. “Stop talking in riddles.”

“
I need a source for the
power I draw upon,” Liano explained. “If I were to simply change
the stones to sand and allow men to scoop them away, there would be
no risk. The men would have hard work, but no fear. Without that
fear, I am powerless, I cannot use my gift to break the laws of the
Order. I can only clear the roads safely if the men believe it to
be unsafe.”

Ipid sat back. He saw it
all now. The avoidable accidents were exactly what made the
transformation possible. Without them, the men would have to lift
the stones manually and find someplace to put them among the rubble
that surrounded them. Far more men would be hurt, and it would take
vastly longer. He sighed. “I see. But the men must know that the
risk is avoidable.”

“
Surely, Lord Chancellor.
But if I avoid the risk, they will no longer be afraid.”

“
Has anyone
died?”

Liano’s hood went back to
the floor of the coach. “No. Some men have been badly hurt. In the
beginning, I had to give them serious reasons to fear what I would
do, and I was still refining this use of my gift. I fear that some
of the men who were injured may not have lived, but they were not
dead when they were taken from here. I try not to dwell on
them.”

“
You see,” Eia said. “You
are breaking the poor boy’s heart. This is why we seldom used our
powers before the Darthur came. We were, in fact, forbidden from
creating strife to use our gifts. If someone was already in danger
or pain, we could use that emotion to help them, but such as this
would not have been allowed. The Darthur made us more pragmatic. We
realize now that lives must sometimes be sacrificed so that far
more may be saved. It is the same reason we destroyed Thoren and
these two districts of your city.”

“
I see,” Ipid held up a
hand to cut off her lecture. “But these people will see that only
as a callous disregard for their lives. Such as this will turn them
against us faster than hard work and depravation ever
could.”

“
Regrettably, yes. Would
you rather that Liano not use his power?” Eia asked the question
honestly, leaving the decision to him.

“
No,” he admitted. He ran
his fingers through his hair and stared at the ceiling of the
coach. “It will take too long and far more men will die. Though
they would blame those deaths on the Order rather than me, I would
have to carry the burden.”

“
As you wish, Lord
Chancellor,” Liano nodded. “May I now return to my
work?”

“
Of course. I will
accompany you.”

“
You must accept this,”
Eia whispered urgently. “Do not allow these people to think that
you disagree? They must not think that Liano is somehow outside of
your control or favor. It would undermine both you and him and
would result only in more men being hurt.”

Ipid nodded as he followed
the wizard from the coach. He waited a moment outside for his eyes
to adjust, fixed a scowl on his face, and looked toward the men.
Several were still digging their fellow from the sand. He appeared
to be shaken but unharmed. Others were using shovels to scoop
gravel from the road where the angle had not been enough. Their
eyes darted to Liano and Ipid with uncertainty. They wanted to know
if their Chancellor had just admonished his henchman, had stood up
for their safety. Ipid had to disavow them of the
notion.

“
Your methods are
excellent,” he addressed Liano. “But you must move faster. Stay
here, work on this road until it is clear. I don’t care what you
have to do. You will clear a way to that bridge. Do you
understand?”

“
Yes, Lord Chancellor.”
Liano turned back to the worksite, gliding off as if
floating.

“
And you.” Ipid pointed
toward the foreman, who was still engaged with Jon.

“
Nebbel, Lord Chancellor,
Orin Nebbel.”

“
I don’t recall asking. If
your men cannot get themselves out of the way when Liano uses his
power, they will be buried, and we will not spare the effort to
free them. The invaders have no time for your bumbling, and neither
do I. Open this road. I want all efforts focused here. The other
bridges can wait. You have three days. Do you
understand?”

“
Sir,” the man stammered,
deep voice faltering for the first time. He looked toward the span
of the bridge in the distance, eyes wide. He licked his lips. “We
will try . . . .”

“
You will succeed,” Ipid
demanded. “You will never say the word ‘try’ to me again. Now, get
those men to work or I will find someone who can, and you can join
the crew.”

“Yes, Lord Chancellor,” the man stammered.
He turned to the workers and began to shout commands. The workers
groaned. The foreman increased his exhortations. Heart nearly
pounding through his chest, Ipid forced his face to remain stern as
he watched the men, saw the hatred in their eyes, and wondered how
long it would be limited to venomous looks.

Chapter 32

The
30
^th
Day of Summer

No matter of groping at
the empty sheets was going to make them fill. Ipid knew this, but
his sleep-addled mind could not seem to grasp the simple concept.
He pawed at the bed, slid his body across it, squirmed and reached
until he came to the end and looked up. Eia was not there. He could
still smell her, the sheets were still warm from her body, slightly
damp from her sweat. With a groan, he remembered how sleep had
claimed him. Again, he had not been able to satisfy her. His mind
had been on the faces of the men at the worksite, on their hatred,
on the man being buried by stones, on his screams. And nothing that
Eia could do had been able to rouse him. She had resigned herself
to it with patience – a patience as thin as herself – and said the
magical words that seemed to drag away all his worries and allow
sleep to take him.

Now, she was gone, and her
teases about finding another lover seemed all too real. His cruel
mind generated the images. Eia with one of the Darthur was more
laughable than terrifying, but there was the handsome young footman
who she had flirted with, the sergeant who had been daring enough
to flirt back, Liano, even Jon, who Eia said looked so much like
him that she might get them confused. Ipid’s imagination showed him
Eia with each of them until he was rising from the bed and casting
a satin robe over his back.

The room was dark,
illuminated only by the reflected light of the full moon that stood
high above the manor. It was nowhere near the dawn, and Eia was not
an early riser even if it were. Still, he chastised himself. Eia
teased, but he could not imagine her actually doing it.
Teasing is what she does, it means nothing more
than that. She is in the toilet or pacing the halls. She will laugh
when she catches you looking for her. You’ll never hear the end of
it.

That did not stop him. He
yawned deeply as he strode across the floor, Imperial rug soft
beneath his feet. The door was already cracked open. It slid the
rest of the way toward him without a sound.
I’m going to take a piss
, he told
himself, but he did not turn toward the toilet at the end of the
hall. He walked the other direction, toward the stairs that would
lead to the rooms where Liano, Jon, and his other close
subordinates were housed. He strained to hear the sounds he
dreaded: the squeak of a bed, the panting of passion, the cry of
release.

Instead, he heard
whispers.

He froze. The sound was
coming from below, from the stairs, rising up just enough for him
to hear the movement of the air, to recognize the cadence and tone
without being able to decipher the words. Still, there was no doubt
that it was Eia. Another voice answered. This one familiar, but not
immediately identifiable.

Ears straining, heart
pounding, stupor abolished, Ipid crept forward. He could not make
out the words, but the urgency of the whispers, the speed of the
syllables, the pounding of the diction suggested that this was not
the conversation of lovers. This was business if Ipid had ever
heard it, a serious discussion, with serious ramification, and Eia
was having it without him.