The False Martyr (35 page)

“
My lord?” the captain’s
mouth sagged. He seemed to calculate. “But . . . “

“
I will not hear that word
from you again, Captain. Do you understand?”

“
Yes, sir, bu . . . .” the
captain caught himself and gulped. “I am worried about looters, my
lord. Large portions of the city are abandoned. Without my men, the
looters will have free rein.”

“
Looters should be the
least of your concerns, but that leads to the next thing. Please
let it be known that people should return to their homes. The
threat of attack is past. As long as we meet the terms of
surrender, the Darthur will do no more harm to the
city.”

“
Yes, my lord. We will put
out the word.”

“
Thank you. Now, I will
need your men to gather some things for me.”

“
We are at your command,
my lord. I was at the surrender, I know the terms. I heard the
acting Chancellor turn over control to you.” The last was said with
a stammer that Ipid did not like.
I just
killed the acting Chancellor. I look even more like the monster
they expect.

“
Here, then.” Ipid handed
the man a sheet of paper. “You should find pen and ink in the desk
there.” The captain took the paper and squeezed his large, armored
frame somewhat comically into a secretary’s desk. A moment later,
he held a pen as if his big fingers could barely find their way
around something so small. “Start writing.”

#

When Captain Tyne finally
left, looking a bit dazed for the list of demands he carried, Ipid
sat back in the leather chair and stretched. He felt every corner
of his body protest. He had barely slept in three nights and felt
like he had lived a year in those days – the halcyon days with Eia
were a lifetime gone. He yawned, buried his palms into his eyes,
and stood with the help of the desk. His mind was swarming with so
many tasks that he could barely contain them. His only hope was to
keep moving and capitalize on as many as he could before they
flitted away.

A half-dozen warriors
waited outside the office door. Ipid jumped at seeing them looming
on either side then stared at them, puzzled. “The va Uhram sent us
to protect you,” one of the men announced in answer to Ipid’s
unasked question.

He sighed, reminding
himself to make use of the resources he’d been given. “Who is your
leader?” he asked the man.

“
There are no chiefs among
us,” the warrior said as if that were an answer. Ipid should have
known. The Darthur did not have a formal command structure. They
knew their duties from rote, were raised to them from birth, needed
no one to tell or order them. Ipid could simply tell this man what
he wanted and he would see that it was done. The problem was that
the Darthur were perfectly literal and astoundingly pragmatic. If
he told them to protect him, they very well may kill everyone in
the house to ensure there were no possible threats. And because
there was no command structure, it only required one warrior
getting the wrong idea for a disaster to result.

“
What is your name, great
one?” he asked, using the title out of habit.

“
Illun of the Cathum
Clan.”

Ipid built himself up. If
they had no chief among them, then he must be the chief. “Post men
inside the room, outside the door, outside the te-am ‘eiruh’s
rooms.” He thought then added, “I will have tasks for the other
warriors soon. Until then, all Darthur must stay within the walls
of this estate. You will not harm the people of this city without
my direct order, do you understand?”

“
And if someone is trying
to kill you? I cannot stop someone without harming
them.”

Ipid took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. “If someone poses a direct and immediate
threat, you may stop them, but try not to kill them unless I order
it.”

The man seemed puzzled by
that. He looked at his fellows, who were, if anything, more
bewildered.

“
Just try not to kill
anyone,” Ipid finally blurted. “Protect me and the te-am ‘eiruh,
but don’t kill anyone. Alright? And don’t leave this compound.
Don’t go outside the walls unless I am with you.”

The man shook his head to
send his braided hair swinging. “We are here to protect you. Why
would we leave this place if you are not with us?”

Ipid gave up. He walked
toward the staircase. Two warriors fell in immediately behind him.
He sighed but supposed he would appreciate having the hulking
shadows soon enough. Four more warriors waited at the stairs.
Another score were at the bottom. Ipid wondered if any of the
people he’d asked Captain Tyne to summon would make it through that
mass to his office. With a roll of his eyes, he started up the
stairs, accompanied now by four warriors. That number doubled again
when he reached the third floor. “I need to speak with the te-am
‘eiruh,” he said to no one in particular. “Are they in one of these
rooms?”

One of the guards led him
to a door just down the hall and slapped his hand against the wood
so that it shook. “K’amach-
tur
Ipid
,” he bellowed.

A few heartbeats later –
it seemed an anxious eternity – the door opened. A small figure in
a black robe appeared –
of course, it had
to be Eia
. Only her small white hands
stood out where they held the door, but Ipid did not need to see
anything more. “How may I help you, my lord?” she said. “Please
enter. I am alone.”

“
Wait out here,” Ipid
ordered the guards. “I will only be a minute.”

Eia held the door open and
stood aside. As soon as the door closed, she was on him, his back
pressed against the molding that surrounded the door. Her hood was
cast back. Her lips found his. Her hands moved anxiously on him. “I
have learned to not expect much, but surely you can manage more
than a minute,” she teased as she pulled at his
clothing.

Ipid pulled his mouth from
hers, placed his hands on her arms, and pushed her away. “I’d love
to spend the entire day, but you already know how much needs to be
done. Wasn’t it you that said I needed to move quickly?”

“
Certainly, but speed is
not usually your problem.” She moved away from him, but her eyes
remained inviting.

Ipid was not in the mood.
“I have thought of a way that you can help me.”

“
I can think of several
ways,” Eia cooed as she moved back into him, snaking her hand
toward his crotch.

“
Not that kind of help.”
Ipid caught her hand and held it away.

Eia lunged at him,
straining against his grip like a beast held from its prey, then
shifted her weight and stepped away. “You are no fun,” she whined.
“I am not a fool, you know. I know that we cannot spend the day in
bed like new-joined nobles. I am just teasing, but you could at
least play along. So what is it you want?”

“
I am sorry,” Ipid
approached her, seeing his error. “My mind is swimming. I am afraid
humor is beyond me.”

“
So what grand plan keeps
you from me now?”

“
It involves wearing
dresses.”

“
Tempting. Though I’d
rather it involved wearing nothing at all.”

Ipid was ready this time.
“So would I, but how could I ever get anything done with you
sprawled across my desk all day?”

Eia smiled. “Even I am
scandalized. You see, you are a natural. So for the times I have
the dresses on, what is it you will have me do? I am far more
charming in a dress, but I think you need more intimidation than
charm, and nothing intimidates like an Exile in a black
robe.”

“
Certainly you are
terrifying, my dear, but I need to know how men feel about me
before we terrify them. You can read men’s emotions,
correct?”

“
And women’s too. We do
have emotions, you know? And those emotions turn dark when we’re
referred to as ‘terrifying’. How is it that you were ever
joined?”

Ipid smiled at her barb,
but a lump formed in his throat as he was struck by the similarity
between Eia and Kira. Though they looked nothing alike, they were
both far too sharp for him. He was Eia’s plaything, just as he had
been Kira’s. “In the coming days, I will need to know what those
around me are feeling,” he continued, too distracted now to
continue the game. “I need to know when they’re going to break,
what they’re thinking, who I can trust, and who’s going to stab me
at the first possible opportunity. Can you do that?”

“
It is what I am best at.
A man must feel anger before he draws a blade, must know spite
before he drips the poison, must feel fear before he betrays. Those
emotions create ripples in the energy I draw upon. I sense those
ripples, and thereby know exactly what people are feeling. It is
not just what I do, it is who I am.”

“
Perfect,” Ipid barely
held the word long enough for her to finish. “But I’d rather that
those around me not know that you are an Exile. I am already
suspect enough. If I’m seen consorting with one of the Exiles, not
even the Darthur will be able to keep the mobs at bay.”

“
Thus the dresses.” Eia
smirked. “But where will you get them?”

“
I am the ruler of a
nation. Dresses are the least of my concerns. I have ordered a
dressmaker to be brought for you. He will make you a closet full of
dresses in any style you like. Until then, I believe the youngest
of the Stully daughters was about your size. I am having some of
her dresses brought to you.”

“
She was a child, wasn’t
she?” Eia looked down at herself abashed. “Is that what you think
of me? Then what does that make you?”

Ipid rolled his eyes. “She
was twelve or fourteen. Not a child, and you haven’t been fourteen
in a long many years, my dear.”

Eia gasped at that then
smiled. “If only you knew,” she said under her breath. “Very well,
I will find something. How are you going to present me to your
countrymen? Am I to be your mistress? You know, even if you don’t
say it, that is what everyone will think. You will be quite the
source of rumors, and I’m not sure having taken a mistress from the
invaders will help you convince your people that you are not a
traitor.”

“
My wife,” Ipid mumbled
around a catch in his throat. He cleared it then tried again. “You
will be my wife.”

“
Is this your ruse to get
me to join you?” Eia asked through mock surprise. “I am honored,
but I already told you that members of my order are not allowed to
be joined.”

Ipid sighed. “It will just
be for show. We will say that the Darthur forced us to be joined as
a way of tying me to them. It is a common enough practice, marrying
off daughters to solidify partnerships. It will be accepted and
will give the impression that I am important to the invaders, that
I carry enough weight to be joined to them.”

“
So it is to be a loveless
joining of convenience. I am simply some piece of chattel to be
joined to whatever lord will offer the most for my hand – though my
hand has little to do with it.” Eia sighed melodramatically. “And
without a doting husband to satisfy my needs, it can only be a
matter of time before my eye begins to rove. Will it be the butler,
the strapping stable boy, or one of your mountainous guards that
finally claims me?”

Ipid gave up. “Someone
should be here soon with the dresses. Please select one and join
me. I will be in the office on the floor below.”

“
As you command, my
husband.” Eia turned from him without another word and pushed the
black robe down off of her shoulders. It fell to the ground around
her feet revealing her small, white body, unmarred by clothes all
the way to the sandals that covered her feet. She turned slightly
as Ipid fumbled for the knob, providing him a profile view. “You
don’t want your servants to know how I was dressed prior to their
arrival, do you? Are you sure you don’t want to give them some
further proof of our fidelity? I can be quite vocal about my love
if it will further my husband’s needs.”

She turned fully, but Ipid
did not see. He was already slipping out the door, wondering how he
could ever hope to keep her satisfied for the weeks that they would
be together.

Even as Ipid emerged from
the door, he found three women waiting. Their arms were loaded with
bundles of pastel fabric, lace, and crinoline. They stood well
back, eyeing the warriors arrayed around them from downturned
heads. From the way they shook, Ipid was surprised they had not
dropped the dresses and bolted back down the stairs, but not a one
of them was younger than fifty, and he doubted they could bolt much
of anywhere.

“
My wife awaits.” Ipid
gestured toward the door then remembered what waited on the other
side. “She does not speak our language.” His voice rose as he
realized that he had not discussed that detail with Eia. “And she
was so ashamed of her barbaric clothes that she has already
stripped. She does not know our ways, but please remember that she
is your mistress now. You will treat her with every courtesy and
respect.”

“
Of course, my lord,” the
oldest of the ladies, a wrinkled crone with a stooped back,
answered without meeting his eye. Ipid stood aside and allowed her
to knock at the door. Her fellows followed her with their eyes on
the floor, as if hoping that not seeing the warriors would make
them disappear. The door crept open, seemingly on its own, a moment
later, and the women shuffled inside with their dresses.