The False Martyr (70 page)

“
No, Jack! Please, I want
to know how you and the boys are doing. I am sorry I have not been
to see you sooner, but I’ve barely had a free moment since I became
Chancellor.”

“
Forced to,” Jack
corrected. “That’s what I tell the others. I tell ‘em the Darthur
made ya be Chancellor. They all says ya betrayed the country and
such, but I tell ‘em they don’t know the Maelstrom from their hole.
I tell ‘em they didn’t see what ya went through before we got here.
Me and the others we tell ‘em, sir, but . . . .”

“
But what?” Ipid asked as
the boy lost his exuberance.

“
Well, there’s a lot of
‘em now. Not just boys either. Grown men. An’ they’re takin’ over a
lot o’ the jobs. An’ none of ‘em want ta listen ta us anymore. They
don’ even believe us about how things were ‘fore Thoren, says we’s
makin’ it up ta cover fir helpin’ the Darthur.”

“
I noticed a lot of new
faces, Jack. Where did they all come from?”

“
All over, sir. Lot of ‘em
from the farms an’ villages ‘round. They says there’s no food any
more, that it’s all comin’ ‘ere, that workin’ fir the invaders is
the only way ta get a meal. Sounds like we may be the lucky ones
now. We’s got full bellies every night. Not scraps neither. The
Darthur, sir, they’s told us ta make ‘nough ta feed ourselves as
well as them, an’ there’s always plenty o’ food comin’ in ta make
sure it happens.”

“
I see.” Ipid rubbed his
chin and looked back out over the town with fresh eyes. They were
almost to the estate that Arin had claimed as his headquarters, but
he could see now the level of bustle about him. There were hundreds
of the people here, doing every imaginable task, occupying every
shop, darting back and forth across the street, cooking and
cleaning and carrying.

He was just turning his
attention back to Jack when he caught a shimmer of something that
stopped him. It was a dress, a glimpse of bright color so
desperately out-of-place among the sea of grey and brown. Locking
onto that color, his eyes found a woman then another and another.
They were surrounding a large building that had probably been a
boarding house a few weeks before. Visible only for a second, a
sliver between the surrounding structures, the women and their
purpose were, nonetheless, unmistakable.

“
What is happening over
there?” Ipid asked, pointing.

“
That?” Jack followed
Ipid’s finger then found the ground with his eyes. “That’s jist
started, sir, an’ all us te-adeate boys stay away, but the Darthur
don’ stop it now that we’s k’amach-tur. They’s won’ go in, but some
o’ the new men go an’ the soldiers from the other armies, the ones
that came ‘long with the Darthur, ya know.”

Ipid knew exactly what the
boy was skirting around. He watched the building slide by, a roving
sliver visible through the buildings. He counted a dozen women
standing outside in bright dresses that advertised their services.
“Are there others like that?”

Jack looked like he wanted
to escape. “I haven’t looked fir ‘em, sir, but I’s heard there’s
one in each o’ the villages the invaders is occupying. Also,
there’s a big camp ta the south an’ west. Mostly that’s jist people
tryin’ ta sell stuff, but they say there’s women there
too.”

“
So many?” Ipid mused. As
Jack had said, one of the effects of being elevated to k’amach-tur
was that their women were no longer unworthy of being
whores.

“
People’s hungry,” Jack
said plainly. “They says all the food in the Kingdoms is comin’
here. People follow and do what they’s gotta do ta keep their
families fed.”

Ipid supposed that was
true. He didn’t like it but didn’t know what he could possibly do.
“Go back to your work,” he told Jack as they arrived at the rot
iron gates to the estate. “Thank you for finding me. I’ll do what I
can to help you and the people who serve the invaders.” Though he
had no idea what that would be, he felt that he should say
it.

“
Good luck, sir,” Jack
called as Ipid lost him through the gates. “I know ya’s doing what
ya must just like ya did fir us. May the Order guide ya and protect
ya.”

Ipid could not even find
words through the lump in his throat to call back an equivalent
blessing.

#

In a uniquely Darthur
style, the grounds around the estate had been transformed into a
camp. Two dozen low tents filled the lawn and garden spaced so that
each tent had a stretch of ground with a tree, bush, fountain, or
statue between it and its neighbors. And looming over those simple
tents was a fine villa that surely had enough rooms to house the
te-ashüte. Ipid could not help but chuckle as he thought about all
those rooms sitting empty, eschewed for the luxury of sewn-leather
tents.

I couldn’t possibly sleep
in a bed
, he said to himself with the
voice of a prissy noblewoman,
the feathers
would suck the fierceness right out of me. I’d be a wreck at the
next battle, would barely be able to kill anyone at all. Can you
even imagine? And walls, don’t even get me started on walls. . .
.

Ipid was still chuckling
–
windows, only a te-adeate could possibly
want windows
– when he was shown into the
ballroom that Arin had transformed into a meeting room. The large
circular room had been stripped of the paintings that had graced it
– their outlines marked the walls like ghosts. The tall, narrow
windows had been thrown open to allow the westerly breeze to swirl
through the room. The floor, a great mosaic pattern made of tiny
tiles meant to imitate the ancient floors of the Imperial Palace,
had been cracked and gouged. Ipid stepped over one long
rust-colored stain that could only be dried blood. Obviously, the
Darthur were as concerned with housekeeping as they were with
comfort. And even the te-ashüte had been keeping their skills fresh
with duels and games that required the release of blood as others
would release sweat.

“
K’amach-tur Ipid,” Arin
called from the center of a line of tables that had been set to
stretch across the length of the room. Chairs, nearly twenty in
all, surrounded the table for the other members of the Ashüt. None
of them was occupied. Arin was the only man in the room, and
because Ipid’s escorts had remained outside the house, the number
only doubled with Ipid’s arrival. “Your presence brings me honor.”
Arin smiled genuinely and motioned to a seat.

Ipid bowed. “Great
teacher,” he greeted in Darthur. “I seek only the honor to serve .
. . .”

“
Stop. You are no longer
te-adeate. You do not need to make these statements. Approach me as
a man of proven honor, not a worm.”

Ipid rose from his bow and
approached. He could not reconcile his relief at not having to
worry about being beaten for meeting his master’s eye with his
strange desire to once again be nothing more than Arin’s servant.
As awful as that life had been, it was in many ways easier than
what he faced now – so much easier to be angry at a tyrant for
killing your people than to be the tyrant yourself. “You sent for
me, va Uhram?”

“
Yes.” Arin remained
standing. It was midmorning but a plate still lingered before him,
largely untouched. Ipid did not even want to think what the people
outside the invaders’ camp would give for the flat bread and beef
hash.

At first, Ipid worried
that eschewing his food was a sign of stress in the young leader,
but he looked as carefree as Ipid had ever seen him. His face was
cleanly shaven, eyes clear and blue as ice, sandy hair pulled back
into a nub at the back of his head. His square, chiseled features
were sanguine such that he looked like a boy just released from
university or recently promoted after his first five years of
military service. Though still a young man, Ipid had never thought
of Arin that way. He had, after all, conquered a continent and was
well on way to capturing a second. Before, he had carried the
weight of those accomplishments and their associated burdens, was
weighed by them so that he looked like he might actually be old
enough to have done them. Now, with the initial victory in his
grasp, the burden of leadership seemed to have melted away and
taken the years with it.

“
You have done well,” Arin
finally interrupted the awkward silence that had grown between
them. “My men are the happiest they have been since before we
started across the waste. They have seen their wives. Their bellies
are full. They have fields to train and play. They have new weapons
and saddles and armor. Your people are clearly thankful for their
place within the clans, and we are glad that we have been able to
accept you.”

“
It is you that honors us.
We are simply glad to have met your expectations,” Ipid replied.
“It has been hard for our people.”

“
The path of honor always
is,” Arin dismissed Ipid’s subtle plea entirely, “especially for
those who have not followed it their entire lives. These hardships
will make your people stronger. It will teach them how to survive
without all these comforts to which they have grown accustom.” Arin
gestured to the walls around him with disdain as if its very
existence weakened him.

Ipid knew that there was
no point in arguing. The Darthur had won. They had proven that the
Kingdoms could not hope to oppose them, and that gave them the
ability to force their beliefs on the conquered people – for now.
“I am sure that is true,” Ipid conceded. “I fear, however, for the
people who . . . serve your camps. They are driven by hunger to
dishonor themselves, to beg and . . . dishonor their bodies.” How
to talk to the monastic Darthur about sex?

Arin thought for a moment,
clearly trying to unravel the meaning in Ipid’s words. “You mean
the women in those houses?”

“
Yes, Great
Teacher.”

“
There is no dishonor.”
Arin waved off Ipid’s concern. “Women may choose whichever mate
they desire. They are k’amach-tur. If they choose to take the power
of another k’amach-tur or even du-räsch, that is no business of
mine. If it is a problem for your men, then they must convince the
women that their own power is better.” Arin used a word that Ipid
had translated to be ‘power’, but it clearly meant something more
and different here.

“
These women are doing it
for food,” Ipid tried again.

Arin looked confused as if
he expected Ipid to say something more. “I don’t understand,” he
finally admitted. “Why should a woman not choose her mate based
upon what he can add to her herds? That and the power the man
brings to her children are the only factors a woman should
consider.”

Ipid knew that he should
drop the subject, but he could not seem to let it go. “So if
Darthur women were lining up and accepting any man that gave them a
round of bread, that would not upset you?”

“
It does not matter if it
upset me. I am a man. I cannot control what a woman does. They are
the heart of honor. It is only by their grace that we have tents or
herds or children. How could I or any man question what they do
with their bodies?”

“
And if your wife did
that?” Ipid spoke before he thought. He had grown too used to being
Chancellor, of saying whatever entered his mind without
consequences. He literally reached for the words as he heard them,
hoping to shove them back into his mouth. He waited for Arin to
explode.

He laughed. “Why would a
woman who is joined to the va Uhram ever take the power of another
man? No other man could contribute as much to her herds. No other
man could give her more power for her children. No man could ever
give her more honor.”

Arin dismissed the subject
with a wave of his hand. “Now, I brought you here to discuss what
is to come, not the honor of women. Your people have met our needs
so well, that we are becoming restless. We have recovered from our
journey across the mountains and now believe that it is time to
continue testing the people on this side of the Teeth.” Arin swept
his hand across the, now ragged, map that he had found in the inn
in Gurney Bluff and motioned Ipid forward. “In seven days we will
depart. We will march along these roads to this city.” Arin pointed
at Lianne on Alta. “Are there bridges over the river
there?”

Ipid looked at the map,
considering. “No. The river there is too wide for bridges. There
are ferries, but they are run by the Liandrins. They will surely
withdraw them.”

Arin considered. “That is
just as well. We could not cross directly into the city. The Battle
of Testing must take place first.” He considered again. “Your
people will provide boats,” he decided. “Enough to ferry all our
men and those that you will provide across the river.”

Ipid calculated. It would
require hundreds of boats. “It may take days to get that many men
and horses across the river. Even if we use hundreds of
boats.”

Arin looked up, eyes clear
and sure. “The crossing will happen a day’s ride north of the city.
My warriors will arrive there first. On the full moon, your boats
will transport us across. We will hold the crossing in case these
people try to stop us. You will have until half the moon has faded
to transport the remainder of the army.”

Ipid tried to remember
where the moon was currently in its phases. He remembered seeing
the shadow of a crescent proceeding the sun as he departed that
morning, so it had to be waning, a few days from new. That meant a
little more than two weeks before it was full and another seven to
be half again. Three weeks. Two of those without the Darthur army
camped outside the city. Ipid could only hope that he could hold
things together that long. “It will be as you request, va Uhram,”
he said. There was nothing else to say.