Ashwalk Pilgrim (16 page)

Mara’s eyes widened as he spoke her name. She’d never met him once in her life, yet he spoke her name like they’d been common enemies for ages.

“You’re desperate to save the whore, aren’t you?” he asked.
 

The silent sons did not reply.

Caspran smirked and flipped his palm so the dagger would land within it. He closed his fist on the blade and held it before the priests. Drops of crimson oozed from his wraps and dripped onto the grass. “I know a thing or two about desperation. Your Loyal Father happily visited it upon
me
. He turned his back on
me
. He spit on
me
. I remember holding my daughter’s body in my arms. I remember looking into her dead eyes and wondering why the Six would do such a thing. We were their children too, just like you!”

The man’s hand shook. Mara tightened her grip on her son. She looked for any reaction in the silent sons, but they might as well have been statues. No matter the painful devastation that darkened Caspran’s past, he would hear no apology from men who had sworn their voices would never ride the breeze as long as their bones walked the land.

Brother Caspran seemed to acknowledge the same thought as Mara. He lifted his fist, opening the palm wrapped in leathers to the world. Blood dulled the little dagger’s glimmer and soaked his glove.
 

“We will find her. Nothing can stop the serpents from rising. The King will bury your sun and raise his own, and then the stain of the Six will be forever crushed. Unless, of course, your Loyal Father will bestow some of his mighty power upon his faithful? Perhaps he’ll bless you with his strength? Perhaps he’ll save those who swore their life to him? Perhaps his magic isn’t really dying, and all the fears that make your skinny little bones shake beneath those flapping robes of yours will finally disappear? If you have true faith in a true god, then you will be protected, will you not?”

Caspran flicked his wrist, and the bloody blade spun slowly around his hand. It floated over his stained wrappings like a moth might flutter around a flame.
 

Loyal Father
, Mara prayed,
protect them.
They are your silent sons. Don’t let another die for me.

One of the silent sons raised a hand draped in black. His pale fingers protruded from the dark robe. Lightly he touched them to the brow of his mask, its expression one of tearful sorrow. He motioned at Caspran with the same fingers and bowed.

“Forgive me?” Caspran asked in a shaking tone. “How dare you offer me forgiveness! I need no forgiveness. I need no compassion from the likes of you. You should be begging forgiveness from
me
. You should be on your knees, hoping I show you mercy for the sins your gods committed.”

Another silent son mirrored the first’s gesture. And so did another. And so did yet another. The silent sons all at once forgave the priest of the Serpent Sun, bowing their heads in respect to the man.

“Filth and vermin!
Filth and vermin
!” Caspran flicked his wrist, and the dagger whistled from its orbit around his hand. It zipped through the silent sons, bursting in and out of their flapping robes, moving so fast Mara’s eyes had to work to catch the flashing glints of silver.

“What’s wrong, silent sons?” he asked with a cackling laugh. “Did your Loyal Father abandon you in your time of need? Did the magic that once burned through your veins whither like a flower beneath the power of the Serpent Sun? How does it feel to know he abandoned you? Tell me…
How does it feel!
”

The man bellowed harder as his dagger tore fabric and flesh. The line of silent sons trembled. A gloss wet their dark robes and splattered red over the grass. Mara shuddered. She closed her eyes and pressed her sleeve against her lips to smother her cry. She had never seen such violence, never thought living beings capable of taking such pleasure in such a horrible act.

“Take this blade for a tithe, priests,” Caspran continued. “Your dedication to the Loyal Father is commendable, even if misguided. He has abandoned you, and now you die. For what? A whore and her dead bastard?”

Mara cursed herself for being weak. She cursed herself for not knowing what to do, for not having the power to stop the madman from slaughtering the only people in Sollan who showed her kindness.

“Stop!” Mara screamed, jumping to her feet.

The dagger paused above a pile of black robes and white masks dripping blood from their eyes and noses. His dagger hovered over his open palm. Like the masks, it soaked in the blood of its victims.

She’d doomed herself. She’d stood and doomed herself. The silent sons died for nothing. They all died for nothing.

Caspran’s shadowed gaze drifted in the direction of Mara’s voice. He snapped his fingers, and any remaining blood on his dagger turned to scarlet smoke and vanished on the wind.
 

Wind flipped through Mara’s ashen cloak. She stared at Caspran, a statue frozen by fear and hardened by anger.
 

He took a step forward. Mara’s lip trembled. Her knuckles whitened on her son.

“We’ll find you!” Caspran shouted. “We’ll gut you like a pig and take your son. You won’t succeed, Mara. You will never make it to the Mother’s temple by sunrise. You are not as close as you might think.”

Caspran’s chest heaved. His dagger flipped madly around his body. He thrust his palm forward, and the razor whistled toward Mara. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, twisting to protect her child’s body. All around her, the blade hacked away at grass and flower. Thin stems flew into the air.
 

And then, silence. Mara slowly opened her eyes. She stared at her son, cradled as he was in her arms. Nothing cut her skin. Nothing tore her burlap.

Mara faced Brother Caspran. The man’s gaze swept across the park. He shook his head and twisted on his heel, marching through the grass until the shadows entombed him. “There is no way in to Hightable but through its gate. I will find you there.”

Mara swallowed the knot twisting her throat.
He didn’t see us. No, he couldn’t see us. We stood before him, and still he could not find us.

I told you
, Olessa’s voice whispered.
Ash and burlap keep you safe. But that’s not important at the moment. He let some other bit of knowledge slip. If you weren’t such a glimmer-clouded fool, you’d have caught it. Your son is a bastard, and he called him one.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut to drown Olessa’s voice. “My son would have been more than that.”

You stupid girl,
her madame hissed.
Think!
 

“He…” Mara opened her eyes and stared at the murderous stranger. “He knows my child is a boy.”

No one in this city knew Mara’s child. If this mysterious man had gone to the House of Sin and Silk with his flying dagger…

Mara blinked the tears from her eyes. She bit hard on her lip and wrapped her son in her arms. Visions of Olessa and Gia screaming as the dagger buried in their flesh over and over and over again flared across her thoughts. They died for her. Caspran had gone to her home and tortured the only people she ever knew or loved, and they had died for her. No one would be left to bury Olessa. No one would be left to send Gia’s spirit to the Six.

“Murderer!” she rasped. “I don’t care if you hear me. You’re a monster! Monster!”

Mara tried calming her frantic heart. She scanned the park, but from the aqueduct behind her to the gently curving wall ahead, no sign of the man remained.
 

Rustling from the pile of bodies tore her from her thoughts. Trembling fingers long and pale appeared within the bloody garbs.
 

The painful knot she swallowed leapt back into her throat. Mara hurried to the bodies. She grimaced, trying as gently as she could to shift the dead priests off the living one. Blood stained her burlap sleeve clear to her elbow. It wet her fingers and seeped beneath her nails.
 

The priest’s hand clasped hers. She planted her feet and grunted, pulling him from his deceased brothers.

He made a muffled sound behind his cracked mask. Mara glanced behind her, half expecting the silent son’s murderer to melt out of the wall’s shadow, but Caspran did not.

Mara swallowed. She faced the priest and clenched his hand. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. His fingers moved to his expressionless mask, the mask of the silent son who had been her savior since the beginning. He clasped the mask’s chin and lifted, and both false face and robe fell away.

Blood trickled from his thinning hair and slid down his smooth, milky temples. His eyes were gleaming pools of polished brown, and when he saw her, he smiled like one might smile at a wayward child cresting the last hill before returning home.

“I’m so sorry,” Mara said. Her trembling fingers caressed his jaw.
 

She placed his head into her lap and gently rocked him. “This is my fault. You and your brothers didn’t have to die. I should have done something. I should have said something sooner. I thought I was strong. I—I thought I could face the king.” She choked down a sob. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t know why you help me, but I’m not who you think I am. I’m nothing. I will never stop the king. His serpent priests will kill me.”

“Mara, Mara,” the silent son whispered. He reached into her hood and caressed her jaw. “You are so much more than nothing.”

“You know my name?” Mara’s tears filled her eyes and dripped onto his bloody cheeks. “You spoke! You are a silent son. Your vows keep you from speaking. Please, don’t forsake them for me.”

The silent son smiled and pinched her chin. “I forsake nothing. For you, every silent son would throw off his mask and sing until the stars died.”

“But why? Why do you care about me? Why do they want me dead and my child’s body?”

“They are an old enemy, Mara, and they will destroy the Six if you fail. The rest of man will follow after. They…” he grimaced, his nose distorting into a wrinkled wedge.
 

He coughed and blood wet his lips. The silent son grabbed her wrist. He looked into her eyes. Tears poured from his. “I am afraid. If there are no gods in the heavens, where will my soul go when I die?”

She bent over and pressed her brow to his, closing her eyes. “Do not worry, my friend. The Six will receive you with open arms. You died for me. If I could, I would see you safely there myself, and if any god thought to cast you out, they would answer to me.”

The priest laughed, and his cheeks swelled. His tears wet her skin, and hers wet his. His hand left her wrist as his fingers caressed her temples. “I am honored to have met you. When the time comes when we meet again, I hope you’ll share a glass of wine with me at the Six’s table and speak of brighter days.”

“If the Six will have me, I swear it.”

“They will. Now go, Mara. Climb.
Climb
.” His hands lightly squeezed her cheeks. She opened her eyes and saw all the words he had yet to say swirling within his dark orbs, carried on the tide of memories welling within him.
 

The silent son’s mouth opened. He tried speaking, but only a long sigh escaped his lips. The light in his eyes faded, and his hands fell from her.

Mara kissed his brow and closed his eyes. She stood and said a prayer for all the fallen priests. Ahead, the aqueduct waited.
 

If eternity was a measurable distance, Mara thought it would stand as tall as the aqueduct towering overhead. She stood at the base of what one might laughably call steps snaking around the arch’s base in steep flights.
 

“Steps…” Mara shook her head and rolled her eyes.
 

She prodded a step with her foot. The stair would barely fit both her small feet. “These aren’t steps. These are misplaced bricks.”
 

Each flight scaled at a sharp angle up one side of the square pillar before turning sharply to the next side and climbing higher. The breeze she once welcomed for its cool, crisp caress now seemed more a taunting gale that eagerly waited to fling her from a great height.

No rail kept the fool who dared scale the pillar safe. “I suppose I’ll be an acrobat too tonight. I’ve lived so many lives in so few hours. Who knows what title I’ll wear when I reach the Mother’s steps?”

Mara tightened the burlap wrapped around her son. She tucked him deep into her robe so she could use both hands on the perilous climb. His weight tugged her forward. He would keep her off balance as she ascended, but she could only hope the Six guided her steps well enough to keep them both from harm.

Her teeth clenched, her back pressed firmly against the pillar, she placed her foot upon the first step, and then she placed the next. The movement repeated, achingly slowly at first, more quickly once her confidence increased.

Mara tried not to think about the dizzying height. Instead, she let her mind drift to other things. She imagined her son playing in the House of Sin and Silk’s kitchen. Chef Faratta scolded him for sneaking a scoop of stew, but he flashed his round eyes, and the old woman melted like ice in boiling water. He sucked the butter and garlic glistening on his fingers, licking his little lips as he grinned at his mother.

He came no higher than her knee then, and kitchen grease matted his hair and stained his clothes. She would try to bathe him at night, but he hated bath time even though he loved diving into the Sapphire Sea. Her son was a natural swimmer and didn’t fear the coral sharks like she did, but even then, she never quite felt comfortable watching him paddling alone in the dark and briny waters.

Sometimes, she would bend and cup his chin in her hand. She’d call him her little coral shark and say he couldn’t swim because she feared he would forget to come back to her.

Her son would giggle and wrap his arms around her leg. He would tell her how silly she was, that he knew he wasn’t a coral shark and would never forget his mom no matter how much fun the sharks promised or the forgotten ruins of lost kingdoms they begged to show him.