The False Martyr (71 page)

“
Very good.” Arin slapped
his hand on the table and smiled. “The northern army will be moving
as well. As you know, they marched to the far north to test this
country.” He gestured to the Morg Fells, and Ipid felt his hope
rise at the possibility of the Morgs joining the fight against the
invaders. “However, the te-ashüte there tell me that these
mountains are too difficult to cross, so they will wait by this
lake until the Eroth Amache is complete.” He pointed at Lake Inver,
the largest lake on the continent and source of the Alta. “When
this country has been tested, they will cross the river, circle the
lake, and test these people here.” He pointed at Invermere on the
other side of the lake. It was a Darthur term for ‘on Invere’. If
Ipid recalled correctly, the lodge there was small, maybe five
thousand men of fighting age, but the simple act of crossing into
their lands uninvited was a declaration of war to the Morgs. But
would it come too late? “Your men in these northern cities shall
accompany this force. You will continue to supply them with food,
weapons, and equipment. You will ensure that boats are ready to
transport them across the river.”

“
It shall be as you
request,” Ipid said again though his mind was swimming.

“
Very good. The supplies
coming to us now are sufficient to maintain us, but you will
increase them in the coming days so that we have supplies to take
with us as we march. You will provide all the wagons and animals
required to carry those supplies and will keep us replenished. If
there is a shortage, we will take what we need from the cities we
pass.”

“
It shall be as you
request.” Ipid saw dots dancing before his eyes – more food, more
supplies, wagons, boats.

“
Very good.” Arin smiled
and looked up from the map. “You will turn over control of this
country and rejoin me prior to the testing of Liandria. I will
require your services in dealing with their leaders. I trust this
will not be a problem.”

“
It shall be as you
request.”

“
Good. Are my clansmen
serving you well?”

“
They are, va
Uhram.”

“
And the te-am ‘eiruh? I
understand you are using one of them to clear paths to the bridges.
This is wise. Though I hear that you have taken the other as a
wife? I have never heard of this among them. Are you certain it is
wise?”

“
It is a . . .” Ipid
struggled for the appropriate Darthur term, “. . . a trick,” he
decided. “I use her to read the emotions of those around me, to see
if they will do as I ask. I do not want them to know that she is
te-am ‘eiruh, so she disguises herself as my wife.”

“
Hmm,” Arin considered. “I
did not know that the te-am ‘eiruh could do that, though I would
not trust them to advise me on such matters. Better to know that a
man will do what you say because he is bound to you by honor. Don’t
you think, k’amach-tur Ipid?”

Ipid almost choked as he
remembered how Arin had humiliated his cousin as a means of
weakening his opposition. “I do, va Uhram, but my people are just
learning the honor of Darthur. I cannot risk that their weakness
may disrupt our ability to show our appreciation. As I said before,
many of them are hungry and do not understand the wisdom of your
judgment.”

“
It is always so,” Arin
sighed, a tired parent talking about children who refuse to go to
sleep. “They will learn soon enough.”

“
Thank you for your
advice, va Uhram. I shall keep it in my heart.”

“
Very good,” Arin said
then looked back at his map. “My clan has asked me to side with
them in the qubatik. I do not love the game as many of them do, but
it has it uses. I must prepare myself. I will call upon you if
necessary. Perhaps, I shall visit you as we ride through your
city.”

“
It would be my great
honor if you would, va Uhram,” Ipid said with a bow. “I will leave
you to your preparations. Please pass along my regards to Thorold
and the other members of the Ashüt.”

Arin seemed confused by
the last, obviously wondering why anyone would ever ask him to do
such a thing. “May you find honor in your day,” he offered
finally.

Ipid provided the same
pleasantry and backed from the room. His mind was spinning with the
new demands. The thought of village boys and women forced into
prostitution were lost in calculations about boats and wagons and
yet more food.

Chapter 41

The
35
^th
Day of Summer

It took all the will Dasen
could muster to keep walking toward the clump of young men standing
in the hallway before him, to keep himself from turning and running
back to his room. As it was, he had to pause, take a deep breath,
and avoid the eyes that turned immediately and with singular focus
to him.
You are Lady Esther.
He forced himself to picture the image he had
seen in the mirror before he left the room, to remember everything
that Mrs. Tappers had done to create that image, and to be the girl
she had made. As the young men watched – four of them, all of
approximately his age – he waved his fan before his face and glided
past with eyes diverted. He tried not to think about the fact that
he was taller than all of them, that the wig felt like it might
fall off at any moment, that a day’s worth of stubble was pushing
against the cosmetics that covered it. He was Lady Esther. That is
what Mrs. Tappers had told him.
As long as
you do not give it away, no one will ever know.

He felt the eyes on him as
he passed. The men removed their hats and nodded in deference,
uttered unintelligible greetings, then watched him go until he was
around the corner to the stairs. Only then, did they erupt into
whispers. Dasen released the breath he had been holding and held
the railing for support before starting down the stairs on
trembling legs.
It
worked
, he told himself,
bless the Order, it worked
.

He really shouldn’t have
been surprised. Mrs. Tappers was a miracle worker. When he had
looked in the mirror, he had barely known who was staring back.
Though he would never be mistaken for a beauty, his skin was smooth
and hairless from the pastes and powders that covered it. His lips
were pink with paint, cheeks shaded, eyes outlined in coal,
eyebrows (painfully) shaped to lines. The dress, gloves, and
padding covered every hint of masculinity in silk, satin, and lace.
And a heavy wig had transformed his hair into a brown pile of
braids and curls. The disguise was perfect. But as Mrs. Tappers had
told him, her every effort would be lost the moment he forgot to be
the woman beneath. “The disguise cannot stop with the cosmetics and
lace,” she had said. “It must go through to your bones. It must be
you, and you must be it.”

He had spent three days
now in his room trying to make himself into Lady Esther, forcing
himself to not scratch at the cosmetics, to ignore the way the wig
made his head pound, to not pull at the dress in the hundred places
it rubbed and restricted. He knew that he wasn’t even close to
ready, but he couldn’t spend another minute alone in that room with
nothing more than a few dull books that he had read before. He told
himself, that he just needed to move around, to get some air, but
he knew that what he really needed was to see Teth, to feed the
ache in his gut, to keep his eyes from constantly watching the door
for her return.

He passed an older couple
coming up the stairs as he descended. The man looked up, eyes
growing wide as he realized whom he was passing. “Good evening,”
Dasen said then cleared his throat as he choked on the words. He
had tried to keep his voice high, but it had sounded forced to his
ear.

He watched the couple for
a reaction, but the man just tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

“
My lady,” his wife added.
They stopped their progress and bowed slightly, allowing the
purported noble to proceed. Dasen could feel their eyes following
him.

“
Not much to look at, is
she?” the man whispered too loudly when Dasen was passed. “I didn’t
believe them about the Morg blood, but . . . .”

“
Quiet, Herm,” the lady
scolded in a desperate whisper. “Your ears are so bad, you have no
idea how loudly you are talking.” She paused then spoke in a louder
voice. “I agree she is a beauty. If only one of our sons remained
unjoined, I would insist that Master Tappers arrange an
introduction.” Dasen let out another breath as he reached the
bottom of the stairs.

“
May I help you, my lady?”
a voice said from beside him. Nearly jumping from his skin, Dasen
looked to his side and found a serving boy. He carried an empty
tray under his arm, was clearly returning from delivering an
evening meal. Dasen had picked this time to venture out in the hope
that the inn’s other residents would be occupied with their meals,
that he could sneak through the halls without being seen.
Obviously, in such a crowded inn, that was too much to ask. “My
apologies,” the boy gasped. He bowed low. “I didn’t mean to startle
you, my lady. I thought you had seen me. Please, forgive
me.”

“
It is fine,” Dasen
replied, finding that breathlessness made his voice sound more
feminine. “I am looking for my . . . brother.” He barely caught
himself before saying wife. “He is about your age . . .
.”

“
In the courtyard, ma’am,”
the boy supplied. “I’m sorry, but I know who he is. He’s been in
the courtyard all day with the . . .” he seemed to think better of
his words, “. . . with your man. Would you like me to show
you?”

Dasen shook his head.
“That won’t be necessary. If you could just point me in the right
direction.”

“
Certainly, my lady.” The
boy gestured down the hall. “Take the first right turn down this
hall. The door will be immediately on your left.”

Dasen looked down the
hall, saw a boy and girl run from the common room and pull to a
stop when they saw him. He could hear the rumble of the crowd from
that room. As the children had shown, he would have to walk past it
to reach Teth. He breathed deeply as the children turned and ran
back. The sound of their calls was lost in the cacophony, but Dasen
could imagine them spreading their news like a dripping nose. For a
second, he thought about turning back then, with another breath,
nodded to the servant, raised his fan, and walked down the
hall.

He managed only a glance
as he passed the big open space that led to the inn’s common room.
It was packed nearly to bursting as half the city seemed to be
seeking their meal. And that bustle seemed to act as the perfect
distraction. The people inside were so concerned with their meals,
with their attempts to speak and hear over the roar, that not an
eye rose to watch him glide past and disappear around a
corner.

The courtyard was there on
his left just as promised. With a breath, he turned the knob and
pushed the nearest of the twin doors open. All told, the courtyard
was maybe fifteen paces across and twenty long. It seemed small,
but given that it was crammed into the center of an inn, it was
extraordinary. A footpath of smooth stones ran along the edge with
rows of flowers separating it from the ivy-covered walls that
surrounded it. Benches were arranged around the grass in the center
with trellises of vines and flowers rising over them. The day had
not been hot, and it was even cooler in the shade lavished
courtyard. The air was still and smelled slightly of wood smoke
and, to Dasen’s surprise, sweat – Teth’s metallic tang. His eyes
found her just after his nose. She was standing on a patch of
manicured grass in the center of the courtyard a few paces from the
trunk of a sprawling apple tree that served as the courtyard’s
centerpiece.

Dasen took it all in then
turned back to Teth. She was moving, performing a series of
exercises, switching from slow to fast to still, while Garth
studied her. His heart skipped at seeing her then hurt in his
chest. She was soaked with sweat, white shirt grey, pants marked
with lines of salt. Her hair, little more now than a severe bowl,
was plastered to her head. Water ran down her sunken cheeks and
dripped from her sharp nose and chin. And Dasen was instantly
transported to the field outside Thoren, to seeing her drenched
with rain, exhausted to the point of collapse, and knowing that he
was tied to her, that they were meant to be together, that no force
under the Order could pull them apart.
Even this
, he told himself with a
deep breath that only partially dismissed the ache in his
chest.

“
Stop!” Garth bellowed.
“There is no point in this. A lodge is not built in a day, and
neither shall you be.” Teth stopped. Her hands went to her knees.
She gasped for air then fell to sitting, head between her knees,
entire body crumpled like a rag doll. Only then did Dasen realize
how weak she had been, how her arms had trembled, how she had
cheated the movements, how she had panted for air and clenched her
teeth to complete exercises that a few weeks before would have been
folly.

“
You have an admirer,”
Garth rumbled as he picked up one of the plates that sat on the
bench nearest the tree.

Teth brought her head up
through great effort. Her face fell just as Dasen’s heart rose. He
so longed to see her that he barely noticed. “I . . . I was just
wondering where you were.” He walked around the path toward her.
“You’ve been gone all day, and I was starting to worry.” Teth did
not respond. She dropped her head back between her knees. “I’m . .
. I’m sorry to disturb you.”