The False Martyr (14 page)

Ipid gulped. He looked
back down at the list of terms. He imagined the Chancellor, as
proud a man as exists in the world, accepting them, bowing to Arin,
pledging his support and that of his nation to the invaders. Then
he imagined Wildern erupting in fire, circled by the demon stoche.
He imagined the screams of the dying, the lines of refugees seeking
shelter in yet another city that Arin would destroy. And where
would it end? Eia was right. The only peace was to give Arin
exactly what he wanted.

“
And what about your son?”
Eia’s question cut through Ipid’s thoughts like a bucket of cold
water. He shuddered and looked down at the bottom of the list,
where he had written his son’s name as one of the likely demands.
“Have you thought about where he might be, how we might help
him?”

“
I . . . I don’t know.”
Ipid shook his head.

“
If you give me some idea
of where he is, I can look for him. I could even take you to him. I
promise that we do not want to hurt him. A talent such as his is
something that must not be wasted. It is our desire to train him
before something terrible happens, before he unwittingly uses his
powers in some way that cannot be undone, before innocents are
killed. And selfishly, before we are blamed.”

“
I can think of a few
places,” Ipid mumbled, “but I just don’t know. Are you sure he
isn’t still . . . .” Ipid’s voice caught, “. . . still on the
field.” He felt his heart shatter at the very thought of his son
being added to the mass graves he had seen just a few mornings
before.

“
No,” Eia assured. She had
somehow come to him without his even noticing. She stood behind him
and rubbed his shoulders. “The Belab said that he still sensed him.
No, he escaped the battle. Maybe, he came here, swam the river, or
found a boat?”

“
I think if he were here,
we’d have found him by now.”

“
Not if he knew to hide.
If so, he would not come
here
. It would be too obvious a
place to look, so where
would
he go?”

“
I supposed we could look
for him in some of the other houses, but that doesn’t seem like
him. He was never an outgoing boy. He never really had many friends
here. I supposed he’d do what he must, but . . .”

“
But what?”

“
But any house, any manor
or cottage, is as good a hiding place as any other. I can’t imagine
him putting others in danger, and if Tethina is still with him,
then. . . .”

“
Then what?”

Ipid sighed, leaned back
and looked long at Eia. “Tethina is difficult. I don’t know what
happened to her. Part of it was her parents’ death, but the most
dramatic change seemed to happen well after that. In any case, she
doesn’t trust anyone. She almost certainly would not seek the aid
of strangers unless it was her last resort, unless she had some
assurance that they would not turn on her.” He sighed again,
thinking now about the arc of Tethina’s letters, of the darkness
that invaded them around the time she was fourteen. She had always
been defiant, but after that she became entirely detached, distant,
wary, violent. Ipid had always thought it was just the age, the way
children always seemed to go at that time in their lives, but now
he wondered if it was something more, something he had
missed.

“
What is it?” Eia asked.
She moved her hand up to his face and steered it toward
her.

“
Nothing. I was just
thinking about Tethina.”

“
And what did you
think?”

“
Nothing helpful.” Ipid
grabbed her hand and pulled it away. He rose from his seat and
walked to the window, hoping to gain some relief from the breeze.
“Trust me, Eia, I would love nothing more than to find my son. I
have seen enough of Arin to fear his wrath. And I saw enough of
that battle to believe that Dasen is a threat to himself and those
around him. But I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, or
where he will go.”

Eia grumbled something.
Ipid stopped pacing, stared out the window, then closed on it as if
in a dream. Stepping through on to the small balcony, he gawked.
There were boats on the river. The great barges that carried men
such as himself from their homes on this side of the river to their
work in the city, and a hundred other smaller vessels. And all of
them were crammed nearly to floundering with men and horses and
wagons. An army was crossing the river. The Darthur were on the
move.

#

The sun was falling below
the horizon, painting the clouds with crimson and pink, as Ipid
walked through his garden. Eia’s small hand was held in his –
somehow cool despite the heat – and they walked with the
familiarity of longtime companions, shoulders nearly touching,
strides easily matched so that their bodies swayed together. Their
conversation had continued through the previous two days and all of
this, but they had resolved little. Despite Eia’s insistence, they
were no closer to finding Dasen. And despite his, he was no closer
to saving his country.

Only one thing was
certain. The Darthur had not stopped at Thoren. For three days now,
the army – just the northern flank, Ipid reminded himself – had
been crossing the river and marching to the west. Depending on the
road they took from there, they could be in Orinsburg or Mandarb’s
Leap in a week or less, in just enough time to punish those cities
if their terms went unanswered.

“
What are you thinking
about?” Eia asked from his side. She shifted her hip to bump his
thigh, squeezed his hand.

“
Nothing,” Ipid smiled
down at her. Her dark eyes reflected the glow of the sunset. A few
strands of pale hair had escaped the loose tail hanging down her
back and fluttered around her face in the breeze.

“
You know that’s not
true.” She smiled knowingly and swatted absently at a fly buzzing
near her ear. “I thought we were going to forget about all that for
a while. I thought we were going to get away from your stuffy room
and stuffy thoughts. It was your idea, but I can tell that your
mind is still on your schemes.”

A trickle of sweat escaped
her hairline and raced down her cheek then along the line of her
chin. She caught it with a finger and flicked it away. It was still
blistering hot and desert dry, so hot that they had barely wanted
to touch the night before, had made love with as little contact as
possible then slept on opposite sides of the bed in their own
sodden pools. And today, they had barely left his room, had talked
and planned, barely touching except in the cold bath that Eia
thought to pump into his tub. But even that had not cooled them for
long.

“
I know. I’m sorry.” Ipid
pulled at his already loosened collar and looked back across the
garden. They were reaching the end of his grounds, climbing a
slight hill that overlooked the estates to the north and east,
searching for a breeze that did not exist. “At least it’s cooler
out here than inside, and it’s so clear. The stars will be out
soon, and we should be able to see every one of them. We could stay
out here, lie in the grass, and find the
constellations.”

Eia smiled warmly. “I
would like that. I have not looked at the stars in a long time.”
Ipid returned her smile and allowed her to lead him off the
manicured path up the hill. “This would be a lovely place to sit.
We should have thought to bring a bottle of wine.”

Lost again in his
thoughts, Ipid watched the ground before him as he crested the
hill, panting from the exertion, wiping away his sweat in rivers.
When they reached the top, he looked down the other side at a
clusters of buildings. Manors surrounded by gardens and
outbuildings stretched for the first few miles then gave way to a
small village where the local craftsmen kept their shops so as to
cater to the wealth around them. Beyond that were fields, long
stretches of waving wheat, rows of fruit trees, manicured green
expanses leading to more buildings as far as the eye could see. And
somewhere, down there, maybe, just maybe, were Dasen and Tethina.
Were they hurt? Scared? Trapped? Dead? Ipid felt his guts clench at
the thought.

“
There. Lights.” Eia found
his hand with one of hers and pointed with the other.

Ipid followed her finger
and saw the windows of a manor illuminated by the flickering light
of a torch. It was distant but close enough for him to track the
lights moving from room to room. “We should go there,” he said.
“They may know something. They may have seen Dasen and
Tethina.”

“
No,” Eia said firmly.
“Look. Watch.”

A woman screamed, high
voice wailing, soaked in fear. Ipid jumped. His eyes followed the
sound to a large window high in the house just in time to see a
large figure swat a smaller one then followed it into the room.
More shapes flowed into the room, shadows against the torchlight,
appearing then disappearing from the window. Another scream was cut
short. And that was all. The light remained flickering in the room,
a beacon in the gathering darkness, but there was no more movement,
no more screams. Still, Ipid could not tear his eyes away. He
prayed that his senses had lied, searched for other explanations,
begged the shadows to return and do something to dispel his
fears.

“
We have to do something,”
he breathed when his prayers went unanswered. “That woman . . .
they’re . . . we can’t . . . .”

“
There is nothing we can
do.”

“
But you could . . .
.”

“
I could what?” Eia
snapped. “Transport myself to the house? Use my gift to kill those
men? Is that how you see me? As a killer?”

“
No,” Ipid stammered. “Of
course not. I’m sorry. I just . . . .”

“
You just what?” Eia
seethed then seemed to catch herself. “I am sorry. Not so long ago,
mine was an order dedicated to peace. I would never have considered
using my gift to harm others. And now, you assume I can kill –
what, five, ten men? – without reservation.” She sighed and looked
back toward the house where shadows had started to move again. One
figure stood before the window with a bag. Another filled it. The
others had not emerged.

“
I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
Ipid tried to tear his eyes from the scene. “I don’t now what I
expected. I just couldn’t stand to . . . . I don’t know. I suppose
you’re right.”

“
I am as horrified as you.
I will never understand how people can be so cruel to one another,
and if I thought there was a way to help that woman, I would do it
in any instant. That, at least, is one good thing about the
Darthur. They would never attack a woman like that, would never
allow one of their vassals to do so. It is their greatest crimes,
worse even than murder. I suppose that is what you get in a people
ruled by women.”

Ipid felt numb. Despite
all that he had seen, he could somehow not tolerate that he had
done nothing.
Just one more person you
have failed.
“You mentioned that you had
found looters. Were those. . . ?”

“
No.” Eia was resolute. “I
met a family, a man, his wife, their children. They were thieves,
but they were not rapists or murderers. Remember, I can read and
interpret the emotions of others. I can find a man in a dark room
by his feelings alone. I can differentiate the emotions of a room
full of people, tell you each of them, without ever stepping into
the room, without ever seeing them. Only those who have mastered
their emotions completely, who have made themselves a blank slate,
can keep what they are feeling from me. If those people had meant
me harm, I would have known. That is how I could say with such
certainty that they would not bother us.”

She stopped, looked back at the house, then
led him away. “There will be no watching the stars tonight. We must
be more careful, must hope that those men do not come this way.

Chapter 9

The
19
^th
Day of Summer

Teth completed another
circle of the pentagonal tower. It had only one door, facing
directly west toward the river. It was otherwise surrounded by
perfectly spaced apple trees, their branches bearing the early
signs of the fruit that would no doubt make the mildly fermented
cider the Weavers seemed to drink at every meal. Between the trees
were rose shrubs, colors carefully selected to create a pattern –
red, white, white, pink, yellow, white, red. It matched the pattern
of the path – brown, white, white, tan, grey, white, brown – and
throughout the compound once she learned to look for it. For the
hundredth time, she considered climbing one of the trees, but the
only windows within reach were little more than slits. She’d be
lucky to get an arm in one.

Still, she was sure that
this was where they were holding Dasen. She had searched every inch
of the compound over the past four days, knew its every nook and
cranny, had planned a dozen ways to escape, had gathered enough
food and water to last for days. This was the only remaining place
that she had not been able to enter, the only door with a lock, the
only possible place to hold someone against his will. He had to be
here, and she had to find him, had to get away before she came
completely unhinged.

Even now, she felt herself
unraveling, felt her mind coming uncoiled, betraying her, tricking
her, tearing her apart. It had started with the nightmares, every
night so bad that she no longer even wanted to sleep. And when she
did drift off – either night or day – it was only a matter of
minutes before the dead eyes were staring at her, the blood was
covering her, the creatures were descending upon her. She would
wake screaming, sweat soaked, and trembling as if she had just
fought the battle all over again. But being awake was little
better. The nightmares found her even then. Her shattered mind
transformed the slap of sandals into charging hooves, cabbages into
blood-smeared heads, shadow into creatures preparing to pounce,
clouds into demons falling from the sky. Any one of those – and
just about anything else – could set her off, could make her heart
pound, her breath catch, her body shake. Out of nowhere, for no
reason, all the fear from the long-concluded battle would rise up
and overwhelm her so that she could barely move. And then it would
turn out to be a cabbage, a cloud, a shadow, a monk, and she would
fall into sobs. In a heartbeat, she would go from fear that took
her very breath, to sorrow that ripped through her like a knife.
Then she would cry until she talked herself back out of it, until
she convinced herself that it was all in her mind. Until the next
thing came, and it started all over again.