Reave the Just and Other Tales (30 page)

“When he saw me, he beckoned. The gesture appeared to cause him pain.

“I approached to discover what he wished of me. As I drew near, I heard him speak the name I had given myself. ‘Aposter. There he is.’

“Finally I grasped that there was something amiss. Events had gone awry in Sestle. Perhaps I should have fled. But I did not conceive that I was in peril. I could not. At that moment I feared only for Irradia, and for the priest.

“Pointing toward me, he repeated, ‘There he is.’ I saw now that weeping filled his face.

“Then some blow or bludgeon seemed to take away the back of my head, and I stumbled into darkness.”

There I paused. I had reached the crux of what I must relate, and I faltered. “My lord Duke,” I inquired hoarsely, “may I have more wine? I thirst.” After a moment, I added, “And I am afraid.”

Duke Obal flicked his fingers, a brusque command. His strained gaze did not leave my face.

At once a fresh goblet was given to Lord Ermine at my side. He offered it to me, frowning in solicitude. I accepted it and drank. With the wine I swallowed cries I did not mean to utter, fury and woe I could not afford to express. Only my tale stood between me and death. And only my tale held back Obal’s fall.

Bracing my heart, I continued.

“I awoke to a dazzle of illumination”—light as acute as my distress in the Duke’s hall—“and the sound of screaming. I found myself seated erect, but my limbs were bound so that I could not move. The pain of damaged bone filled my head. And hunger— A considerable time must have passed since I had last fed. Two days? As much as three? I had not drawn sustenance the night before I was to have been baptized. Now the yearning to survive blazed in all my veins. My weakness was such that I could not have stood if my arms and legs had been free—could not have remained upright if my bonds had not held me.

“The voice that screamed was one I knew well. It had grown dear to me, a treasure of sweetness, now betrayed to agony.

“In frailty and desperation, I labored to clear my sight so that I might determine the nature of my plight.”

Some among my auditors must have guessed what I would relate—and anticipated it with relish.

“I sat, secured by ropes, in a chair of iron which had been placed on a low dais against one wall of a stone chamber, windowless and cold. By its shape, the room was an oubliette. But if it was, then night had fallen on the world, for no hint of sun or sky showed above me. Instead the chamber was lit by torches and braziers by the score, leaving nothing unrevealed.

“Arrayed around the space and awaiting use were objects and devices which chilled my chest, instruments of torture— I saw racks and thumbscrews, an iron maiden, eye-gouges, flails and lancets and brands, flaying tables, cruel gibbets where a body might hang for days without death, castrators, rape-engines, alembics a-fume with acid. By such means was Hell made tangible, temporary flesh given its first taste of eternal excruciation.

“Clearly the room was a testing chamber, where the servants of Mother Church searched for truth among the wracked limbs and torn flesh of Heaven’s foes. I had heard that clergymen and inquisitors employed such instruments against evil, but I had given the matter no thought—no credence. It had no place in Father Domsen’s teachings, or in Irradia’s beliefs, and I had put it from my mind.

“Now I saw that I must expand my understanding of Mother Church.”

Bishop Heraldic might take offense at my words, but I did not care. Closing my eyes against illumination and memory, I went on.

“At the center of the room, a man stood beside a long table with his work displayed before me as though for my inspection. Despite my weakness, and my damaged head, I knew him at once for a clergyman. He wore the robes and chasuble, as crimson as anguish, of the lords of Mother Church, but he had set aside the miter of his office, leaving his head unrestricted, and his hands were flecked with blood. His features had been formed for piety, strict of mouth and nose, lean of cheek, his brow lined with denunciations. Rue and eagerness defined his gaze. Two ebon-clad men, bulky and muscular, awaited his commands, but did not put themselves forward to assist him.

“With each touch he lifted new screams from Irradia’s raw throat.

“She lay naked on the table.” The memory was vivid to me, etched so deeply into the passages of my brain that I believed it would endure when my flesh had fallen to worms and corruption. Merely closing my eyes did not shut it out. “Her arms had been drawn above her head and clamped in iron fetters, and her ankles were knotted to rings set into the wood. Thus outstretched, she might shift her hips and writhe, but could do nothing to avoid her tormentor’s touch. Already blood and pain in profusion marked her helpless flesh.

“In one hand the clergyman employed a curiously serrated blade—in the other, pincers gripping a sponge damp with vitriol. As I watched, he stroked his blade tenderly across her belly toward her breasts, laying bare her nerves, then squeezed his sponge to drip acid into the streaming wounds. Her skin and tissues steamed with liquid fire as she shrieked out her hurt to the high ceiling and the unattainable sky.

“Appalled beyond bearing, I croaked, ‘Stop’—and again, ‘Stop.’

“Her tormentor lifted his head. Setting aside his implements, he seemed to regard me kindly. After a moment, he addressed me.

“‘I see that you have regained consciousness.’ His voice was husky and avid, a voice of passion—as well suited as his long fingers to caress or flay. ‘That is well. You must attend what transpires here.

“‘I am Straylish,’ he continued, ‘High Cardinal of Mother Church, and worldly suzerain of all this land in the name of Heaven. What you are’—he appeared to smile—‘will be made plain to God’s judgment.’

“He confused me. Living in Sestle, I had heard him spoken of often, yet I did not comprehend his power—or his intent. Did he not already know me? ‘Father Domsen—’ I began. But there my voice, or my heart, faltered. I meant to say that the priest had already betrayed me. Cardinal Straylish knew perfectly what I was.

“How had Father Domsen turned against me? And
why
? I had seen sorrow in him, but not distrust. His grief had given me no hint—

“And if Father Domsen had turned against me, why did the High Cardinal now inflict such suffering upon Irradia?

“‘I am not done with him,’ replied His Reverence sternly. ‘Like this maid—her name is Irradia, I believe?—he also has countenanced the presence of evil among us.

“‘It is true that he served me in the end. Repenting his folly—or so he said—he identified you to my men, so that you would work no more abomination. I doubt his sincerity, however. I do not know how long he was aware of you. Later you will confess the truth, so that I may pursue Heaven’s judgment accurately.’ The High Cardinal flexed his fingers in anticipation. ‘But he did not come forward until after I had taken her.’ A gesture indicated Irradia. ‘I fear for him that he was moved to aid my search, not by genuine repentance, but rather by a desire to spare this weak daughter of his congregation God’s wrath.

“‘That doubt I will resolve later, however. For the present, her guilt compels me.’ He spoke as lovers do, in eagerness and intimacy.

“Now I understood Father Domsen, although His Reverence still baffled me. At the time, I gave the matter no further thought. I cared only for Irradia—cared only that I might find some means to halt her great pain.

“Nevertheless between that day and this I have ached with regret over the good priest’s plight—yes, and burned with shame for my part in it. I find no fault with him that he chose to sacrifice me as he did. For Irradia’s sake, I would have done the same.

“Yet he did betray me, and I am certain that his gentle heart bore the burden heavily. Irradia I had apparently doomed by the simple sin of accepting her goodwill. But if I had not revealed myself to Father Domsen, he would have been spared the necessity of denouncing me.”

It seemed that my confession meant nothing to my auditors. Their silence had closed against me, unyielding as the doorstone of a sepulchre. Even the Duke and his adherents stood motionless, almost breathless, as though snared in dismay.

Sighing, I labored onward.

“As I say, however, such considerations came later. At the time, every faint scrap of my remaining energy and attention was concentrated toward His Reverence. I knew how I had come to be where I was. But I could not conceive why my captor continued to harm Irradia after I had fallen into his power.

“‘Father Domsen has told you what I am,’ I countered through my weakness. ‘She is no longer needed. What do you want from her?’

“‘What do I want?’ My question appeared to pique the Cardinal. ‘For myself, nothing.’ With the tip of his tongue, he moistened his lips. ‘For my God, however, I desire the utter extirpation of Satan and all his minions. And toward that end, one small step will be taken here.

“‘It came to my attention,’ he explained, ‘that a vampyr preyed in Sestle—a vile spawn of Hell, devouring souls to feed its own damnation. For some weeks I hunted him in vain. Infidels and scum, apostates and heretics I sifted without number, seeking Heaven’s foe. And at last I gleaned the tale of a Leeside maid befriended by a stranger—a man without apparent homeland, history, employment, or domicile. By degrees I learned to believe that this stranger was indeed the abomination I sought—that this lost maid knew who and what he was—and that she had condoned his evil by concealing his identity. Therefore I gathered her to me.’

“Sadly he shook his head over her. ‘Her sin is as great as her innocence. I suspect that she has been cruelly misled. By God’s grace, however, her soul has been granted to my care. Guided by Heaven, I will win truth from her, purging her fault with pain.

“‘Then,’ he finished gently, ‘I will deal with you.’

“Still I did not understand. I failed to comprehend his doctrine, as I had failed to grasp Father Domsen’s. By nature I knew nothing of ‘forgiveness’ or ‘repentance.’ But Irradia’s cries had at last subsided to quiet sobbing while the Cardinal spoke with me, and I could not endure to think that he would torment her anew—that she would scream again.

“‘No,’ I protested. ‘Deal with me now.

“‘I will confess,’ I told him, gathering urgency as I went. ‘Release her.
Stop
this cruelty. I will confess’—I hardly knew what—‘everything. She was ignorant of me. I hid the truth. I tricked her—I will tell you how I practiced on her innocence, so that she learned to trust me. Whatever you wish—

“‘Only release her,’ I pleaded.

“The High Cardinal replied with laughter. ‘You will surely confess,’ he promised. ‘In your turn, you will reveal the depth and breadth of your foulness in every particular. But first I must redeem this maid.

“‘Without repentance she cannot hope for Heaven’s forgiveness. She must see her sin and turn from it. She must turn from you. In mercy and love, I will not spare her one item or instance of agony until she surrenders her fault by speaking your name.’

“Smiling, he retrieved his implements. A stroke of the sponge wiped her blood from his blade, refreshing its serrations. His hands were those of an adept, certain of their purpose, and made cunning by experience.

“Confronted by Irradia’s anguish, I lost all dignity, all restraint—all thought of myself. ‘No!’ I cried, wailed, shrieked, ‘she has no fault, the fault is
mine,
I
confess
it, you must
stop
!’

“But His Reverence Straylish Beatified was not swayed.

“‘Her fault is indeed yours,’ he pronounced, ‘and I will exact its penalty from you.’ His hands lingered over her pale flesh, although his gaze held mine. ‘Since you wish to confess, this will be your penance until I am ready for you—to witness the tortures which you will suffer eternally, and to be helpless against them.

“‘With every breath in your lungs and pulse in your veins, you will struggle to oppose God’s judgment in me, to resist the righteousness which damns you—and you will gain nothing. You are bound to my will, and to Hell. Your evil cannot prevail against Heaven. Inspired by Satan’s cunning, you seek to restore this maid’s life with your own, but it will not avail you. Rather you will bear her pain until I am ready for yours.’

“Then in charity and sorrow he turned with exquisite care to the labor of Irradia’s redemption.”

I knew not how I continued. My weakness itself, and the burden of Irradia’s anguish, seemed to uphold me, for without them I would surely have fallen prostrate. My eyes were open now, but I gazed only at Duke Obal. The rest of Mullior’s highborn had ceased to exist for me. Only his steady glower, angry and aggrieved—only his honesty or dishonor—retained any import that I could recognize.

“My lords,” I said hoarsely, “I will not speak of what was done to her.” When her eyes were burst from their sockets, I screamed myself until my throat was torn, and blood spewed from my mouth. “I will say only that under the High Cardinal’s hands she cried out until she could cry no more. Thereafter her limbs and sinews enacted a wailing to which she could no longer give voice. Mute, her excruciation was more terrible to me than any howl.”

I drew a long, shuddering breath. “But she did not surrender my name.

“By silence she believed that she might save me. Though His Reverence asked it and demanded it, prayed and pleaded for it, soothed and wracked her to obtain it, she held my name to herself. In that baptism of agony, she stood with me, as she had promised.”

Dry-eyed now, for my pain had grown too great for tears, and the hall’s brilliance no longer daunted me, I met the clenched attention of my audience.

“And at last,” I sighed, “the High Cardinal set aside his implements in vexation. Informing his ebon-clad servants that he would return after an hour’s rest to continue her redemption, he withdrew from the chamber.

“This, apparently, signaled that their turn had come. When he had closed the door, they advanced at once, jesting with each other. One approached Irradia’s table. His hands fumbled at the ties of his breeches as he moved. The other began with me.

“Drawing near, he struck me a full-armed blow, and laughed as he swung. My head recoiled against the iron of my seat. Moments of darkness gnawed at my vision, so that sight itself appeared to mortify within me, announcing the corruption of the grave.