Duty (Book 2) (11 page)

“Say on, Padra.”

“I am pleased to announce that our investigation into the Burka pattern has at last yielded fruit. We have caught the criminals and they will be executed in the Main Square shortly. I have riders spreading the news now so a sizable gathering can be ready. It is important this be as public as possible to restore faith in the people. The Chalaine and the Ha’Ulrich will not be permitted anywhere near the spectacle, of course. I am leaving directly to attend.”

“What!” a shocked Mirelle burst out, releasing Gen’s arm. “You order a public execution without my. . .”

“Athan!” Ethris said loudly, cutting the First Mother off. “Who did you catch? And how?” The worry in Ethris’s eyes, reflected in those of Kaimas’s, took Athan aback.

“My men were inquiring about town when a man tipped us off to the presence of an old witch living in the Damned Quarter. We raided the place late yesterday afternoon and found an old woman and a man there with several drawings of Burka patterns in their possession. We immediately ordered everyone out of Bainburrow Cathedral and imprisoned them in the catacombs under magical guard.”

“What did they look like?” Ethris prodded impatiently.

“Fairly nondescript from what I heard. Both forty or fifty years old, dark hair. The man had one blue eye and one white. You know something! Out with it!”

A breathless Padra Nolan entering the room at a jog surprised everyone.

“Your Grace, a moment.”

“Is this about the detainees?” Athan asked.

“Yes, your Grace,” Nolan replied, wiping his brow.

“Then you can speak. They know.”

“Very well. I was there when they removed the prisoners from the cell this morning. I don’t understand it, but instead of an old woman, a. . .”

“A girl!” Kaimas exclaimed. “You fools! You have no idea who you’re dealing with!”

“What!?” Mirelle inquired, a puzzled Athan shouting the same inquiry.

“Are they still headed toward the square?” Ethris questioned, ignoring everyone.

“Yes,” Padra Nolan answered, perplexed. “We figured it Ilch’s work.”

“Mirelle,” Ethris explained, voice barely restrained. “That square has to be cleared!”

“Who is it, Ethris? Kaimas?” Athan yelled. The two Magicians glanced at each other before answering in unison.

“Our mother.”

“How could your mother be a girl?” Padran Nolan asked.

“Our mother has been alive since before the Shattering,” Kaimas explained uncomfortably. “She dies every day. At sundown she crumbles to ash and is reborn a babe, aging throughout the day. It is the price of her immortality, a corrupt gift from Mikkik to her. The only time the cycle is stopped is when she is with child, as she was when she bore triplets, Ethris, Dethris, and I. She has children often simply so she can live normally for a while. I’d wager half the students in the academies of magic over the years were her bastard children.”

“Your mother is a witch, then? An evil witch?” Athan exclaimed.

“She is a Mage, yes,” Ethris said gravely, “the most powerful alive, I suspect. But explanations can wait. You must stop the carriage and clear the square. Now.”

“But we have her under guard of three Padras!” Padra Nolan said. “Surely she is contained or can be killed!”

“No,” Kaimas rebutted. “She is only caught when she wants to be caught. You take her to that square and she will kill hundreds, if not thousands.”

“Then we should kill her while she is in the carriage!” Athan argued. “When she isn’t suspecting it.”

“You can’t kill her!” Ethris said.

“Nonsense!” Athan objected. “She can die, can’t she?”

“Yes,” Kaimas said, “but it will take a Trysmagician or extraordinary luck to do it. You know the legend of the Ash Witch, don’t you?
She
is the Ash Witch. Mikkik appointed her to be an Elda to sit in Owena’s throne as goddess when he comes to power. He remade her a pureblood Mynmagician and Duammagician. My brothers and I are but half-blood. Your best Padra is likely quarter-blood at best.”

“So are we supposed to just let her go?” Athan asked incredulously.

“If you are wise,” Ethris answered, “you will do just that. Walk away. She will still kill, but not thousands as she will if you continue this course.”

“I cannot in good conscience do such a thing! How could we face the people?” Athan said. He turned to Padra Nolan. “I will communicate to them to turn back to the Damned Quarter and the Cathedral. We will kill her there. You watch through Padra Gray’s mind. I will contact Padra Tremain.”

“It will fail!” Kaimas yelled. “Listen to me!” But Athan had closed his eyes.

“Your Grace,” Ethris said to the First Mother. “Send word to clear the square.” Mirelle turned to Regent Ogbith, who nodded his head.

“I will see it done,” he said, leaving quickly.

The room fell silent. The two Padras concentrated, faces serene. No one moved or even fidgeted, watching intently until the Padras’ faces contorted in pain and paled. For several moments they didn’t breathe. “They are under attack,” Padra Athan uttered through clenched teeth. “We’re trying to assist. . .” The words struggled from his mouth as his breath returned, laboring.

“Get the Chalaine out of here!” Mirelle commanded. The Chalaine stood and left quickly with Jaron behind.

“Perhaps I should leave as well,” Chertanne said uncertainly. “Come, Drockley.”

“Can you help them?” Mirelle asked Ethris after Chertanne left.

“I. . .”

Both Padras screamed, grabbing the sides of their heads as if to hold them together. As one, their eyes snapped open and they fell, shoved to the floor by some unseen force.

“Ethris?!” the First Mother exclaimed worriedly.

“The contact is broken, Highness,” Ethris said calmingly. “They should revive momentarily.” Ethris crossed to Athan, signaling for Kaimas to check on Padra Nolan. Both Padras lay still for nearly a minute before stirring. Blood ran from their noses and their hands shook as the old Magicians helped them onto the couch.

“Such power!” Padra Nolan exclaimed. “She attacked me through Gray’s mind! Through my own link!”

“And me through Tremain’s at the same time,” Padra Athan added angrily. “We must get news of what happened.”

“Regent Ogbith will see to that,” Mirelle said. “I will send for the other Padras to attend you.”

“So,” Athan said, gathering himself and glaring at Ethris and Kaimas accusatorily, “you two knew who inscribed the Burka pattern, didn’t you? And the fires? Your mother is the Ash Witch, and here you are in the service of the Ha’Ulrich and the Chalaine! Merciful Eldaloth! You should be dismissed for this!”

“We did not know it was her for certain,” Ethris returned with equal acrimony. “She was certainly a suspect, but there are others who could have done it. Joranne isn’t one you can send soldiers out searching for, even if you knew where to look for her. Your three dead Padras will be evidence enough of that!”

“So Joranne is her name, then. Sounds harmless enough for someone of such frightening power. And who is the man with the strange eyes?” Athan asked, still incensed. “The Ilch? Some other Magician?”

“We have no idea,” Kaimas answered.

“Wonderful,” Athan returned, standing unsteadily. “We will have an inquiry about you two. I doubt even Mirelle wants you around after these startling revelations. You are practically Mikkik’s stepchildren!”

“I doubt Mirelle is as stupid as you are,” Kaimas growled.

“How dare you address a Padra in that fashion!” Padra Nolan yelled.

“Gentlemen!” Mirelle interrupted. “That is enough. Let us assess the situation. And Padra Athan, surely you must see that whatever their genealogy, Ethris and Kaimas are the best protection against Joranne we have. Ethris has served long and well, so calm yourself. Panic and accusations will do little good now.”

“Come, Padra Nolan,” Athan said, ignoring Mirelle. “We have work to do.”

“We should head into the city,” Kaimas said to Ethris. “We may be able to prevent further damage.”

“Your Grace?” Ethris asked.

“Go,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “Come with me, Gen. I want to see my daughter.”

“For pity’s sake, Salem,” Errin scolded quietly, “You could have laundered your robes before coming into the presence of the First Mother of Rhugoth and the entire Council of Padras—well, minus three.”

Salem sniffed his robe and then scratched his pitted face, tiny chunks of detritus falling out of his scraggly beard. “I can’t hardly smell nothin’ at all anymore, lad. Is it bad?”

“Bad? Crippling is more like it,” Errin complained to his plump companion. “I had to scrub mine for five hours straight after we buried that crusty old dead fisherman.” Errin doubted he looked much better than Salem. Their ministry to the worst of the downtrodden took them outside and into the dirt. The sun had tanned Errin's pale skin, and his wavy hair was long, dusty, and unkempt.
My relations probably wouldn't recognize me.

They stood outside the large oaken doors that led into the Great Hall of Mikmir castle. Salem continued sniffing his robes, finally shrugging his shoulders.

“Listen, acolyte,” Salem whispered, and since he called him acolyte, Errin knew what came next would be a command. “You jus’ lemme do the talkin’ in there. A wrong word in front of the Padras’ll earn ya’ a defrockin.’ I know my way ‘round these uppity types.”

“You forget,” said Errin, “that I was an uppity type once before my blessed entrance into the Church and assignment to be your acolyte. I can safely say that the crowd in the room behind those doors will find your tales of vomiting sea monsters and your morbid analogies a little less than wholesome.”

 
Salem cuffed him on the back of the head, raising the eyebrows of the Chamberlain and door guards. “I ain’t as stupid as all that,
acolyte.
Jus’ cause I never ain’t had a tutor don’t mean I got shmite for brains! But curse it all, this rope is a bit tight ‘round me waist.”

“You’ve put on weight since we’ve been in Rhugoth,” Errin informed him bluntly as Salem pulled and twisted the rope. “You’re actually going to have to untie and retie it one of these days.” Errin rubbed the back of his head. “You just can’t keep pulling it over your head.”

“You can’t untie this farging knot!” Salem exclaimed proudly. “It is a special knot taught to me by me first Captain. Once tied, you can only cut it off.”

“Nonsense,” Errin disagreed. “Every knot can be untied with enough patience. And what would you ever want with a knot you can’t untie?”

“Remember that fella and the angry lobsters?” Salem reminded him gravely.

Errin shuddered and changed the topic. “You have those necklaces that belonged to Gen?”

“Yes,” Salem said. “’Course I do. Just a misunderstandin’ an’ all. They’re just cheap stones. Don’t be lookin’ at me that way. We see ‘im, and I’ll give ‘em to him. I swear it!”

The doors opened, and several men they didn’t recognize left hurriedly. The Chamberlain, face skeptical, signaled them forward, turning to face the assembly. The Council of Padras sat at a long table before the dais, the First Mother behind on her wooden throne.

“I introduce Salem, Pureman of the Church of the One, and Errin, his acolyte.”

“Come forward, please,” the First Mother commanded. Salem threw back his shoulders and entered with a swagger more fit for a dock than a Hall. Errin stared about in amazement. The Hall was as beautiful a place as he had ever seen, but once he turned his eyes to the First Mother of Rhugoth, nothing else in the room could beg for a glance. She was younger in appearance than he’d heard and beyond divine. Salem was either oblivious or unaffected by her stunning appearance.

“First Mother!” Salem intoned heartily, bending slightly at the waist, “and Council of Padras! We poor Puremen. . .” And then he saw her. Errin tried not to laugh as he gaped. His mouth still thought it had words left to speak, and it moved up and down silently in a fair imitation of a fish.

“Pureman Salem!” one of the Padras chided angrily. By his stole, Errin knew this had to be Padra Athan, head of the Council. Errin roughly elbowed the stunned Salem in the ribs.

“What? Oh, yes! But mighty Eldaloth!” Salem exclaimed. “Have you ever seen a fairer creature? Boggins and boddy ho!”

Errin had no idea what that meant and wished it the incantation of some spell to kill them both on the spot. The embarrassment would probably do it first. The First Mother’s Protector did not appear pleased, and the First Mother was obviously not in good humor.

“Get hold of yourself, Pureman!” Athan roared again, standing. “Where is it you serve? Where is your congregation?”

“Ah, yes, your Grace,” Salem said, recovering himself. “’Tis the road, the ditch, and the alley where we tread, ‘mongst the congregation of the diseased, daft, and downtrodden, lendin’ a hand an’ a kind word when. . .”

“Enough. I understand,” Athan cut him off, returning to his seat. “It smells as if you brought some of your congregation in with you. Well, you can be in no doubt of why you are here, Pureman. You are the only surviving witnesses to the incident yesterday morning, and we would have your account of it, starting with why you were near the event in the first place.”

“Yes, well,” Salem began, “you see Errin, my acolyte here, and I often must go to Bainburrow Cathedral, bringin’ in the disfortunate an’ mistrodden, and it jus’ so happened that we shows up that mornin’ with this beastly old shnogger in our wagon who barks like Mikkik’s own hound when he’s not scratchin’ himself and howlin’ like ‘es jus’ got a swift kick twixt the legs. Found him outside this tavern, and the funny thing was he was crawlin’ round on all fours, sniffin’ around and liftin' his leg to take a. . .”

Errin elbowed Salem again.

“Right, well there we were at Bainburrow, bangin’ away at the door for Prelate Shefston. Well, he never comes, so Errin an’ I figure he ain’t risen yet. So we sit to wait ‘im out when from round back comes a prison coach and three Padras and a score of Church soldiers. We’d heard rumors of an execution, so we jus’ sorta followed them from a discrete distance, thinkin’ they had somethin’ ta do with it.

“So there we was,” Salem recounted, voice turning dramatic, “bouncin’ along the Damned Quarter as pretty as you please when we notice somethin’ suspicious!”

Salem paused. For too long.

“Out with it!” Athan demanded.

“A cat! An orange cat, no less, followin’ along!”

Athan threw up his hands. “For mercy's sake, man! A cat? Acolyte, perhaps you’d like to finish the story?”

Salem scowled in disappointment and surprise.

“It is true, your Grace,” Errin corroborated. “There was a cat and it was behaving strangely. And believe it or not, it is actually relevant.”

“Yes!” Salem jumped in quickly. “You see, I ain’t never seen a cat follow anything fer that long, and then I see with me keen eyes that everywhere it steps it leaves black paw prints on the ground. So I comment to Errin here, who thinks I’m drunk—not that I get drunk anymore—till he watches the odd little beastie fer himself.

“Suddenly,” Salem said so loudly and abruptly that the First Mother jumped. “The prison wagon stops and the crazy blighter we got in our wagon starts barkin’ somethin’ fierce, jumps out the wagon, and starts chasin’ the cat down this alley. Well, me and Errin give chase, of course, hopin’ ta reel ‘im in afore he hurts ‘imself. We find him at the end of the alley. The fellow’s got the cat, and the cat is a screamin’ and a scratchin’ and puttin’ up a ruckus. The man is thrashin’ about until he sinks his teeth square in the throat of the animal. Then, poof!” He paused again.

“What? What!” Athan yelled.

“He burns to ash! Burns until there ain’t nothin’ left that the toddler of a wind can’t carry away! Cat is jus’ lyin’ dead. Well, we scratched our heads on that one, you can be sure, but we hears this screamin’ back from the street, so we run that way, and as I got some experience at not bein’ stupid, we don’t jus’ go runnin’ into the street. So we peek ‘round the corner and all the soldiers and the Padras are shakin’ ‘round on the ground and thrashin’—and then they stop. Errin here, of course, wants to be runnin’ out to see things, but I ain’t that dumb.

“The back of the prison coach door opens and this man with Mikkik’s eyes jumps out with this girl and they run off through the streets just as quick as can be. We wait a while longer. Folks start comin’ outta houses and we go check on the Padras. Still alive, but slobbering and yabbering like infants. The soldiers was all dead.”

“Is that all?” Athan asked.

“That be the whole of it.”

“Doesn’t tell us much more than we already knew,” Athan said disappointedly.

“Except one thing,” the First Mother interjected. “That they intended to use the cat as the focus of the attack. We owe a great deal to your ‘crazy blighter.’”

Errin felt he could lose himself in that voice.

“We do at that,” Salem agreed, smiling strangely at the First Mother.

“You are free to go,” the First Mother said.

Salem bowed and turned to leave, but Errin held him back. “Forgive me, Highness,” the acolyte began, Salem looking worried, “but we have something we need to deliver to Gen.” Athan lifted his head from his notes. Errin continued, “It is nothing of much consequence, something of his he must have had when he escaped from Tell.”
  “Speak to the Chamberlain and he will see it delivered,” she ordered, face questioning. “And while you are here, feel free to take a meal in the common room.”

“Thank you, Highness.” With that they left. It took some prodding, but Salem handed the necklaces to the Chamberlain, who signaled for a servant to deliver them. Salem would not miss an opportunity to overeat in the common room of the castle, and after they drained the food stores for nearly an hour, they walked toward the stables to retrieve their horse and cart.

A liveried servant approached them. “The First Mother has asked that you be escorted to the garden,” he said. “She wishes to speak with you briefly.”

While surprised, Errin was thrilled. Salem tried to straighten his robe and rope to no avail, and even stared into a barrel of rainwater to fix his wild hair and pick food out of his beard.

The gardens of the castle were bright with the reds, yellows, and purples of spring, and the First Mother awaited them on a marble bench under a flowering plum tree. Her Protector, clearly upset at the sight of them, stood behind her, arms folded. They bowed.

“I am sorry to trespass on your time further,” she apologized. “But I would like to know your connection with Gen and what it was you brought him.”

“Yes, yes! I am delighted to serve your worshipful flower of gracefulness,” Salem said. “It all. . .”

“Let me tell this, please,” Errin requested with a fervent look. Surprisingly, Salem agreed. Errin started when they found Gen face down on the road and told her everything.

“I think they will be nervous and maybe even frightened,” Gen commented to Fenna as they walked arm in arm through the brightly lit corridors. “Remember that these are simple country people, accustomed to small towns and small places! This all must be terribly overwhelming for them.”

Fenna smiled. She wore her hair loose around her shoulders and was dressed in a fetching purple dress embroidered with gold thread.

“I’m sure having you near will comfort them. I look forward to meeting them.”

“Is the Chalaine coming to this little gathering?”

“She said that nothing could detain her save Chertanne himself sitting on her.”

“She said that?” Gen asked incredulously. “That’s doesn’t sound like her.”