The False Martyr (63 page)

“
I must go,” Noé said
after the footsteps had faded. “They have prepared a bath for me. I
do not know why I have told you all this. It was wrong. Please, do
not come here again and . . . and please, forget . . . forget
everything you have seen and heard. I beg you. It would be . . . he
would . . . .” She seemed unable to state what her husband would
do, but Cary had a pretty good idea how it would end for both of
them if anyone found out.

“
I will go, but I will not
stay away.” He turned and looked back at her. He barely noticed the
deformity now, was able to look past it. He somehow knew that this
was meant to be that she would give herself to him, that it would
only take a little more time, a little more effort. The foundation
was already set. “No one deserves this life, least of all one so
kind and beautiful as you. I will prove it to you, I swear that. I
will prove to you that you are beautiful, that you deserve to be a
Mother in truth, and then maybe you will see it as
well.”

Noé watched him. Their
eyes locked, then she turned away. “Just go,” she demanded but Cary
could see the slightest smile in her eyes. “Please, stay away. You
can only make things worse.”

Though he somehow knew
that she was correct, Cary could not help but hold on to his
promise and the possibility it represented, to let it keep him
awake all that night, to let it control his every action in the
days to come.

Chapter 36

The
32
^nd
Day of Summer

“
What do we do now, Kian?”
a voice asked. Dasen heard it through a fog.

“
Should turn them in for
the ransom, you fools,” another voice said. Despite the pounding in
his head, Dasen forced himself to lie still and listen, to keep his
eyes shut even though they saw nothing but light. Feeling the stone
floor beneath him, he guessed he was lying in the exact place where
he had landed, did not seem to be bound in any way, must not have
been out for long.

“
You’re the fool, Mark,”
the voice from the alley snapped. “He’s the key to the whole thing.
Without him, we don’t stand a chance. All the silver in the world’s
no use if some bastard’s going to kill your family and burn your
house. Do you even trust the tyrant to deliver the money? After the
lies he told in Thoren, I wouldn’t trust that bastard to hold his
cock when he’s pissing.”

Dasen did not even have
the chance to feel relief that they would not be turned in for the
bounty before his anxiety doubled. He knew that man’s voice. It was
the same one he had heard outside the temple
. This was the man that wanted to use him as a weapon, that
wanted him to defend the city against the invaders, that wanted him
to kill, wanted him to destroy. He would almost rather be back in
the alley.

“
So when do we bring him
out and show him off?” another voice asked. “You said that the
people’ll rally to him, so when do we do it?”

“
You can’t!” Dasen
blurted. He forced himself up. His eyes came open. The world was
blurry, blotched with white, but became clearer as his eyes
searched the dim room. He was lying next to a rack of shelves that
stretched to the ceiling eight feet above. It was packed full of
foodstuffs – meats, vegetables, jars, crocks. Around him were bags
of grain and flour, casks of beer, barrels, and crates rising like
walls. Against the far wall, near the outside door was a pile of
wood on one side and mound of charcoal on the other. It was the
storehouse of an inn and a sizeable one by the look of
it.

Eight men stood around the
room between the sacks and crates. Six of them were gathered in a
clump near the outside door. These were the same men that had been
outside the temple. They were soldiers, thick and muscled with
broad shoulders and stances. They wore plain clothes but had thick
leather vests over their shirts and sturdy clubs tucked in their
belts. The seventh man had not been at the temple, would have stood
out there like a bow on an urchin. He was portly, middle-aged, and
soft. His cheeks were ruddy, nose red. He wore the apron of an
innkeeper, but it was pristinely white, and the black suit beneath
it was fine. He stood by a door on the opposite side of the room,
glancing nervously from the clump of men to Dasen to the heavy,
barred door at the back of the room. The final man was sitting in a
chair near a small round table with Teth on his lap. He was the
biggest of them and the only with a full beard – a Morg. He
restrained Teth easily though he held his head awkwardly away,
suggesting that he did not relish the job of holding the filthy,
grime-splattered, stinking youth. Teth sat on the big man’s knee
looking like a toddler. She frowned but did not appear to be
fighting. Her eyes flashed to Dasen. He caught them, saw anger,
then sorrow before they returned to the floor.

By the time Dasen had
completed his inspection, the man who had spoken at the temple was
approaching, eyes smoldering. The lamplight showed several days of
stubble standing out around a bushy mustache. There was no sign of
gray in the stubble or in the long, brown hair that hung down over
his shoulders, but he must have been well into his thirties by the
cracks around his hard blue eyes. He closed on Dasen and held out a
hand. “Dasen Ronigan, it is my great pleasure to meet you. My name
is Kian Polemark, lieutenant of the Thoren Directorate Guards. I
owe you my life as does every man in this room.”

Dasen took the soldier’s
hand and let him hoist him to his feet. He stood, rubbing the lump
at the back of his head as he watched his captor. Kian was not
quite as tall as him, but still a big man. He grinned, showing off
a number of gaps including a front tooth that had been chipped
almost to a point. He had a handsome, rugged face, and a warm,
inviting smile, but his cold eyes were too intense by
half.

“
These others are Jax,
Torin, Sam, Geoff, Rog, and Jaren. The Morg is Garth.” Kain pointed
to each man in turn. They nodded their deference in turn but
remained otherwise silent. “We were, every man, in
Thoren.”

“
Don’t include me in that
group,” the innkeeper mumbled from near the door. “This boy’s more
likely to cost me my life than save it.”

“
I said every
man
in this room, Mark,”
Kian growled. His fellows chuckled as the innkeeper sneered.
“Everyone of us, save that worm over there, saw what you did. And
the truth is we’ve been looking for you ever since.”

“
Let us go, then,” Dasen
said, motioning to Teth. He tried to sound commanding, like he
deserved the reverence that these men seemed to have attached to
him. “Let me and my valet go. He’s . . . .”

“
You don’t need your
stories with us.” Kian interrupted glanced at Teth. “She’s neither
a boy nor your valet.” Kian nodded to the man holding Teth, and he
carefully released her. She stood cautiously then crept wide around
the men to stand by the outside door. Dasen eased toward her. None
of the men moved to bar him. “That there,” Kian looked to Teth and
allowed his eyes to linger, “is the very goddess of war. And I have
her to thank for my life every bit as much as you.” He bowed toward
Teth. His fellows mumbled their agreement.

“
Tell ‘em, Kian,” one of
the men said. “Tell ‘em what happened in Thoren.”

“
They already know,” Kian
growled. He clenched his fists then forced himself to let it go.
“But that’s not what you mean. You want me to tell them why I’m not
rotting in the ground like all the others who were betrayed that
day?” He looked sharply at the man who had spoken. He did not back
down but neither did he manage to hide his unease.

“
I was as good as dead the
last time I saw her,” Kian started with the deep resonance of a
seasoned storyteller. “I was down. I had an arrow through my
shoulder. An invader had just knocked me senseless, would have
split my skull except for my helm.” A motion to the scab along his
forehead made the point. “He was preparing to finish me. I looked
to the side to keep from seeing the blade come down and saw her.”
He looked at Teth with such intensity that it made her shiver. “I
watched the arrow leave her bow, did not even need to see it plant
in the throat of the bastard that was going to end me. I had seen
her arrows fly enough times that day to know exactly where it would
go. I had marveled just as many times that a scrap of a boy could
shoot a bow better than any man I’d ever seen. But this time I
actually watched her.” Kian paused to gather himself. He took a
deep breath. “I saw you look at him. I saw you look at your husband
as only a wife looks at her husband, and I knew. I knew that you
were two sides of the same coin. The god and goddess of war sent by
the Order itself to deliver us from these bastards.”

His fellows murmured their
agreement, all except the innkeeper, who scoffed. “I followed you
into the river but never saw you again,” Kian finished. “Then the
valati pulled me and the rest of this lot from the water and
brought us here. And still, we all knew that we would see you
again, that we needed to pave the way for you, that you would find
us, that we were tied together by the Order itself. And then you
appeared at the temple right before one of my speeches, you ran
down our alley, you showed us your powers. There can be no
disputing the role the Order played in that. You were meant to be
with us. The Order has sent you. No one can deny it.”

Teth groaned as if Kian
had just punched her in the guts. He looked toward her. She was
staring at the ceiling, teeth clenched.

Dasen did not have the
wherewithal then to figure out what it could mean. He was too busy
trying to decide what to do about Kian. It was clear that the man
had cracked. The Order didn’t work that way. This was a
coincidence, nothing more. It was certainly not enough to draw him
into some crazy rebellion. They had seen enough fighting. They
needed peace, not war. “Maybe we should be on our way,” he
suggested as he inched toward the door.

“
I’m sorry,” Kian bellowed
with a laugh. “I guess I got a bit ahead of myself. I didn’t mean
to scare you. I’ve been giving speeches for almost a week now, and
I can get a bit carried away.” He laughed again. “I am sorry. But
it is true that this city needs you. More importantly, I cannot
allow you to leave. That is for your own good. Slink and his gang
are still out there. We have a bit of an agreement with them, but
that fuck is crazy, especially at night. I can’t guarantee you’d
live more than a minute after you pass through that door. Unless,
of course, you use your powers. In which case, the soldiers and
bounty hunters will be on you like the Maelstrom itself. This is
the only safe place you’ll find.” He paused, watched Dasen then
Teth.

“
I tell you what,” he
decided. “You don’t need to do anything right now. The city’s not
ready, and from the looks of you, neither are you. We have plenty
of time. You stay here with us. We have food and beds and bathes
and clothes.” The last was said with a hard glance at Teth. “Mark
will set you up with a room.” The innkeeper opened his mouth to
protest, but Kian cut him off with a gesture. “We’ll leave it at
that for now. When you’ve recovered, we can talk, and you can
decide what you want to do. Agreed?”

As much as Dasen disliked
it, Kian was right. They didn’t have any other choice. They’d never
survive a night in the city. Their only choices were to surrender
to the invaders or to Kian. He looked to Teth. She just stared at
the ceiling shaking her head and mumbling. “Ageed,” he said and
reach a hand out to Kian. The big man crushed it in his own. His
smile was wolfish, eyes blazing.

“
Let’s get you a room and
some food then,” he said. He led Dasen toward the door with his arm
around his shoulders. “This is it,” he mumbled as they walked. “The
Order has given us everything we need.”

#

Teth forced her head under
the water of her bath. She fought her body’s instinct to seal
itself, tried to make her mouth open, tried to make hers lungs
accept the water, tried to make herself drown. She felt her chest
tighten, her tears mingle with the warm water, her head throb.
White spots danced before her eyes.
You
can do this
, she told herself.
And this time, Dasen won’t be here to save
you.

Instead, he’ll find you
dead in a bath.
The image appeared
uninvited: her bloated white corpse floating in a tub, naked for
all to see with Dasen standing over her, crushed and
broken.

She rose from the water,
panting, and gasping. Water ran down her face, into her mouth,
turned her gasps to sputters. Head pounding, she leaned over the
side of the tub and retched. Nothing came. “Fuck!” she gasped and
punched the side of the tub.

Eventual, she laid back in
the bath. Her eyes roved the bathing room. Searching for a razor,
she realized. She fanaticized about running it along her wrists,
watching the water blur to pink as she faded away.
And leave him to find you, soaking in your own
blood.
Her cruel mind, made her see the
look on Dasen’s face.
It’s not his
fault
, the voice told her.
He doesn’t know. He couldn’t possibly
understand.

“
But I want it to end!”
she moaned to herself. “I can’t do it anymore.”