The Tainted City (55 page)

So it wasn’t hatred he carried. I’d seen men like him before, so devoted to some goal they didn’t care what they sacrificed to achieve it.
Like you, with Melly,
an inner voice whispered, and I winced.

Marten’s breathing was harsh. “A future bought at the cost of thousands of innocent lives.”

“Twin gods’ sake, Marten, have you
seen
this city? It devours the innocent. Destroying the confluence won’t only help Alathia. Without it, there’ll be no more savaging of the untalented by mages lacking in all accountability, no more abuse of Tainted children—I promise you, far more innocents will be saved than lost.”

Ruslan made a disgusted, contemptuous noise. Lizaveta remained silent, turning her knife idly in her hands. Knowing their cruelty, I could see Talm’s point. But easy for him to blithely talk of a confluence-free future. When the city dissolved into waterless anarchy, it wasn’t his friends that’d die.

Just his lover. If Marten didn’t leave, he’d burn with the confluence. No wonder Talm was talking so readily. He knew it was his last chance to convince Marten to turn his back on Ninavel and live. Question was, would Talm’s logic sway Marten? If Marten were as cold-blooded as I thought him, he must be tempted. I peered at him, but couldn’t read a damn thing off his face.

“This…calculus of innocents. Is this how the killer justifies his murders?” Marten asked.

“He has all the justification he needs,” Talm said. “Do you remember how I told you of the first murders I saw a mage commit in Ninavel?”

Marten nodded. “A family, you said. Killed because the father jostled an air mage, too distracted by chasing after his youngest child to notice the man’s sigils.”

Memory darkened Talm’s eyes. “The screams I heard that night in Reytani’s hanging gardens still haunt me…I arrived too late to save the children and their mother, but I broke the spell in time to save the father’s life. Not that he thanked me for it, at first.”

Marten’s puzzled frown shifted into sudden, startled realization. “The man you saved—you told me he was a Kaithan scholar…”

Lizaveta’s hands stilled on her knife. Ruslan and Edon both leaned forward, their eyes gone sharp with interest. I leaned right along with them.

Talm said softly, “You see it now. Yes, he is Kaithan. A brilliant scholar of history and nature, who came to Ninavel hoping to exchange knowledge with those from other lands. Yet all for an instant’s inattention, his wife and children drowned in their own blood.”

If it were Cara and Melly murdered, I’d have burned for revenge as badly as this Kaithan. But I’d have stuck to revenge on the actual bastard that killed them, not set out to destroy an entire city.

“What is the Kaithan’s name?” Marten asked.

Talm said, “That, I will not give you so easily. But Marten, admit it: in his place, you too would yearn for justice. Yet there is no justice to be had in Ninavel. I tried on his behalf, but the embassy is authorized to cast only in defense of our own people, and Ambassador Halassian told me Sechaveh would laugh off any complaint she made. I was heartsick, and the Kaithan…I feared despair would drive him to suicide. But his fury won out—he told me he would not rest until he discovered a way to abolish Ninavel’s abuses of power. I promised him that if he did, I would provide what help I could. Truth be told, I did not expect him to succeed. Long years passed with no word. But this past winter I received a letter saying he’d found the solution at last. At first I didn’t believe him, but then one night he appeared in my quarters as if by translocation. He took me deep into the desert and showed me the corpse of the mage who had slain his family, and then I believed in the power he’d gained.”

“Power he gains by murdering Tainted children,” Marten said, cold and level. “Did he tell you that?”

Talm’s gaze dropped. “Not…at first. I regret the children. But they might well have died anyway, cast aside by their handlers after their Change. A few children dead before their time, to save hundreds of their unborn brethren from exploitation and abuse—I know you understand the necessity of sacrifice, Marten! Have I not seen you make similar choices?”

Like the choice he’d made with Kiran. Marten’s face was bloodless. “Not with innocents. Never that. What magic does the Kaithan cast that requires children’s lives?”

Talm shook his head. “I’ve been careful not to learn his secrets, so I could not betray them. I knew that this day would come, if I did not die with the confluence. If not here in Ninavel, then at the Council’s hands, during this year’s renewal of my oaths.”

Kiran had told me how the Council examined the minds of Alathia’s mages once each year to weed out and punish any who broke their laws. I would’ve thought Talm would run before then, whether or not Ninavel fell.

Echoing my thought, Marten asked, “You did not intend to flee?”

Talm smiled, bright and painful. “No. I did this for Alathia; I am not ashamed of my choice. And…I wanted as much time with you as I could, before the end. Though I hoped I would burn with the confluence and spare you this.”

“You wish to
spare
me, while children die to fuel your plans!” Marten’s control cracked. Fury and anguish warred on his face. “Talmaddis, you—” He stopped, and I could see his desperate struggle to rebuild his armor. “You are not the man I loved. You never were.”

I knew his pain. The worst part of Jylla’s betrayal had been the way it poisoned every single moment of my ten years with her. If she’d died like Sethan, then once past my initial grief I could’ve treasured the good times we’d had. Instead, even the happiest of memories got twisted into something gut-wrenching and dark.

“Marten…” The name escaped Talm like it’d been ripped from him.

Lizaveta held her blade before his eyes, stroked her free hand through his curls. “Tell us where the Kaithan hides,” she said, sweetly coaxing. “Tell us that, and I will spare your lover the taste of your agony. You realize that when I cast, I will tear your mind apart, but I will not kill you, oh no…I’ll burn out your will, destroy your magic, and he’ll feel every last instant of your soul shredding away.”

Talm groaned. “I cannot tell you. I made certain of it. But I know this: the least use of magic near the source of his power, and he will know, and come to strike you down. Even you blood mages cannot stop him.”

His hazel eyes fixed on Marten again, desperate and imploring. “Marten,
listen.
The confluence will be destroyed. You cannot prevent it. But you need not die with it! Leave Ninavel and return to Alathia with Ambassador Halassian. The Council will not fault you for that. The Watch needs you, Alathia needs you—in the aftermath of the border wards failing, they’ll need your strength more than ever. Don’t abandon the country you love, no matter how angry you are at me.”

Marten knelt beside Talm, his face once more an icy mask. “I will not listen. You are a traitor to your oaths, a murderer whose life is forfeit under Alathia’s law. But first, Lizaveta will discover what you know and I will use it. I will save this city, or I will die with it. And if I die, Talmaddis…I die cursing your name as liar and betrayer.”

Talm shut his eyes. Slow tears leaked from the corners. “My love for you was never a lie.”

Marten looked at Lizaveta. “I’m through talking.”

“You’re certain?” she said, her eyes glinting. “You don’t wish to exchange a few more sweet lovers’ words? When I finish with him, he’ll lack the capacity to ever speak again.”

“
Cast,”
Marten spat at her. He clamped Talm’s manacled wrist in one hand.

Lizaveta sliced open Talm’s shirt and cut a sigil into his chest with swift precision. Blood slicked Talm’s skin, his breath quickening into rapid, panicked pants. Lizaveta cut a matching sigil into her own palm. She reached for Talm’s chest.

He tensed. “Marten. Marten, forgive me—”

Her bloodied hand touched his wound, and he arched in his bonds, his teeth bared. Marten jerked as if stabbed. In the corner, Ruslan laughed.

I turned aside to stare grimly at the wards on the wall, wishing I could block my ears. The more so when Talm started screaming, wild and agonized. I thought of how he’d nearly killed me, how Pello had died despairing in darkness, of children’s bones piled high. None of it helped. I bit the inside of my cheek bloody, desperate not to give Ruslan the satisfaction of seeing me cringe.

Talm’s howls went on, and on, until his voice was little more than a hoarse, ruined whisper. I set my teeth and endured, though I felt like screaming myself, or bashing my head against the wall until I blacked out. What must Marten be feeling? He deserved it, every minute, for what he’d done to Kiran. But this…oh mother of maidens, let it be over!

Long after I thought I’d go mad, Talm’s cries died into silence. I heard the rustle of Lizaveta’s gown.

“I have all he knows,” she said, sounding tired but satisfied. “Unfortunately, his claim was true: he does not know the location of our enemy’s source of power. Yet I found a signpost to point the way…at our enemy’s request, Talmaddis provided him with a treatise that described the strengths and locations of all the minor confluence points in the Whitefire Mountains. Whatever our enemy’s method of magic, I suspect it requires a confluence as fuel. Not many confluences in the Whitefires are strong enough to allow significant magic; if we compare confluence locations with areas matching the rock the spy described, we might narrow the options considerably.”

“An excellent thought,” said Edon. He hadn’t moved from his stance by the door, his narrow face as calm as if Talm’s screams meant no more to him than bird calls.

I risked turning around. Talm lay slack in his bonds. His blood-smeared chest rose and fell in slow breaths, but his hazel eyes were perfectly, terribly empty.

Marten still knelt at Talm’s side. He’d released Talm’s wrist; his hands lay flat and rigid on his thighs. His face was dead of expression, but his eyes…gods. I looked away quickly. Only to see Ruslan release a satiated sigh, his gaze lingering on Marten, pleasure still softening his mouth.

My stomach convulsed. I locked my teeth and choked back vomit.

Ruslan said, “Tell me this, Liza. What is my enemy’s name?”

“Talmaddis knew him as Vidai zha-Dakhar,” Lizaveta said.

“Vidai.” Ruslan rolled the name in his mouth. “It means ‘hawk-souled’ in Kaithan, does it not? Appropriate. But even the swiftest hawk can be taken.”

He looked to Edon. “Tell Lord Sechaveh I wish to confer with Lizaveta on what we have learned before meeting with him to discuss potential strategies. Captain Martennan doubtless wishes the chance to share his lover’s treachery with his own people and formulate his own suggestions. I expect much, from such a clever man.”

Marten didn’t respond to the jab, didn’t so much as glance Ruslan’s way. Worry pierced me. Had this broken him? Would he give up, abandon Ninavel as Talm had begged him to do?

“Is the innocence of the other Alathians proven?” Edon asked Lizaveta.

Marten answered first. “Yes.” The word came out as dead as his expression. He stood, moving as if every muscle pained him. “Talmaddis worked alone. I want my team freed. Now.”

At least he was talking. But his eyes were still windows on Shaikar’s innermost hell.

Edon glanced at Lizaveta, who twisted a hand in dismissive assent.

Ruslan said, “Talmaddis is yours as well, Captain. To kill or to keep, whichever pleases you more.” He sketched a sigil in the air, and Talm’s manacles melted away. Talm didn’t move. He stared into space, vacant and mindless as an illusionist’s puppet.

Edon said, “Leaving him alive for the moment would be preferable. If we cannot determine how to strike at this Vidai zha-Dakhar’s source of power, perhaps we can use Talmaddis to lure him into a trap.”

“I will take Talmaddis to the embassy,” Marten said, still in that horribly flat voice. He bent and put a hand on Talm’s shoulder. Talm climbed to his feet, his motions slow and uncoordinated. Seeing him move made his empty eyes all the more chilling.

“We release Devan
na soliin
to your custody as well.” Edon’s dark eyes met mine, and I read the command in them.
Start earning your keep, shadow man.

Marten likely knew I was Sechaveh’s now. But he didn’t protest, only nodded.

I said to Edon, “Melly comes with me.” Sechaveh had promised, damn it.

“I will bring her and the Alathians.” Edon released the wards on the door and slipped out.

Lizaveta followed. Ruslan paused by my side. “A pity Lizaveta had to break Talmaddis’s mind so quickly. There is an artistry to pain. To bringing a soul again and again to the brink of madness, while forbidding it to slide over. So by all means…speak to Kiran again. Try to turn him from me. I will delight in proving that artistry for you. Or perhaps…” He smiled, wide and white. “Perhaps I’ll have Kiran prove it for me.”

Almost, I could believe Talm had the right of it: destroying men like this was worth any price. “Maybe you’ll all burn, and leave me laughing,” I snapped. He still didn’t know I was bound to the confluence and would burn with him.

Ruslan smiled wider yet, and flicked a hand at the empty shell that’d once been Talm. “Not after what you’ve given me.” With that, he left; a good thing, because otherwise I might have spit in his face. I watched the door shut behind him, a cold, hard part of me wondering: was I on the right side in this fight?

* * *

(Kiran)

Kiran peered at a map of the Whitefire range. The topographical information was nearly lost under cramped notations indicating the depth and strength of the currents radiating out from Ninavel’s great confluence. In much of the mountains, the currents flowed so deep under magically inert rock as to make casting with them impossible. But in scattered spots, the currents converged and rose toward the surface to create small reservoirs of magic.

Just prior to dawn, Ruslan had contacted Kiran and Mikail from Kelante Tower. Through the mark-bond had come a brief summary of information gained from Dev and Talmaddis, and the order for Kiran and Mikail to find locations in the Whitefires that matched it.

Ruslan had also said, with a vast, delighted satisfaction,
Work quickly,
akhelyshen
, and when I return I will grant you a taste of the delight I had in my revenge.
He hadn’t specified if that revenge included more than Talmaddis. The omission left Kiran desperately uneasy, the memory of the child’s screams tearing at his heart. He had thought he wanted Dev to suffer for his betrayal, but seeing Dev’s anguish hadn’t felt the least bit satisfying. Kiran had felt only a hollow, horrible nausea that had thrown him into uncertainty all over again.