Faces of Deception (36 page)

“Yago?”

More groans, then came the pained answer: “No.” It was the ogre’s voice, weak and languid with delirium. “Go ‘way—”

A terrifying, incoherent scream followed, and Atreus’s first thought was that his friend was trying to warn him of an ambush, but if that were so, Yago would have said something simple like, “Watch out for the ambush.” Atreus slipped into the side passage, trying not to gag on the awful, bloody smell of the place, then advanced with Seema at his back. Yago continued to groan, but it was impossible to say whether he knew of their presence.

They passed yet another side passage angling down into the mountain. Low animal sounds began to fill the tunnel, then Atreus saw a pair of red eyes reflecting the light from his bucket.

He stopped and whispered, “It’s the Dweller. Stay back.”

This time, Seema did not argue. She ducked into the side passage and watched around the corner as Atreus crept forward, his eyes averted to avoid locking gazes with the monster. He had advanced only a few steps when the glow from his bucket illuminated Yago’s mangled form.

The ogre was lying in a pool of blood, holding one hand over his good eye. His mangled eye was dangling out on his cheek, and his wounded leg lay stripped to the bone from the hip down. The Dweller was holding him down with two tentacles and shuffling through his cloak with four more. Able to stand the sight no longer, Atreus raised his knife and started forward.

The Dweller raised its head. Atreus braced himself for its attack, preparing a slash-and-dodge defense, but the monster simply opened its beak. There was a great whooshing of air, so powerful that a breeze cooled the back of his neck, then the beast raised all six of its uninjured tentacles.

Atreus dropped his bucket and fled, flinging himself into the side passage just as a tremendous whumpf rolled down the tunnel behind him. A terrific impact spun him half around, and his entire flank erupted into stinging pain. He bounced off the wall and began to roll down the chalky floor.

A few revolutions later, Seema caught his arm and hauled him to a stop. “Atreus!” she cried. “How badly are you hurt?”

He glanced down and discovered that his whole flank had turned wet and red from his ribcage to his knee. He found Rishi’s knife and cut away the tattered remains of his cloak, revealing a mass of raw and bloody flesh pocked with dozens of tiny punctures. From the bottom of many holes shined the colorful reflections of small gemstones.

“The Dweller must be frightened of you indeed,” Gasped Seema. “To sacrifice its jewels–-“

“I’d rather it had kept them,” said Atreus.

He allowed himself a moment to test the strength of his savaged flank, then scrambled back into the main passage and advanced by the weak light of his overturned bucket. The Dweller was again snuffling through Yago’s cloak, but it stopped and raised its head as he drew near. Atreus lifted his dagger and charged, determined to engage the monster before it had time to hurl some other surprise at him.

Instead, the Dweller let out a long, plaintive whistle and retreated, halting a few paces beyond tentacle range. Atreus stopped, astonished, and cautiously kneeled at Yago’s side. The ogre’s chest continued to rise and fall, but he seemed unaware that anyone was with him. Atreus took his hand.

“Yago?”

The ogre turned his head slightly, but continued to hold his palm over his good eye, protecting it from the Dweller. His orange skin had paled to a sickly ivory.

“Atreus … don’t look.” His voice was a bare whisper. “Don’t want you to … to see what I let happen.”

“Okay, I won’t look.”

“Good.” Yago squeezed his hand. “Atreus … it got… got one of my eyes.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“The eye is here, on your cheek,” Seema said. She kneeled beside Atreus, then gently laid the eye back in its swollen socket. “It just fell out.”

The ogre sighed in relief, then seemed to realize that something was amiss. “Hey, how you’d know?” He uncovered his good eye and raised his head, scowling. “You cheated!”

Atreus nodded.

“You see? I ain’t so dumb after all,” the ogre said, letting his head drop back to the floor. “And Atreus, I… I didn’t really forget your mom’s name.”

“I know.”

“It was…” The ogre winced. “She told me not to tell… no one. But I didn’t know if she meant you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Atreus said. “You kept her secret.”

“Yeah… I did.”

Yago smiled, then his hand opened and fell away.

“Yago?”

Atreus pressed his ear to the ogre’s chest and heard nothing—no heartbeat, no breath, no final groan.

The strength left Atreus in a rush. He slumped forward and stretched his arms across Yago’s massive torso, embracing him in death as he had never done in life. It was not the ogre way of grieving, but there were no handy trees to mangle or walls to smash down. Besides, Atreus was a man, and there was no ogre name for what Yago had been to him—less than a father, but so much more than a bodyguard: Protector, drill-master, dutiful servant, loyal comrade, only friend.

Tears began to well up in Atreus’s eyes. Yago would have ridiculed crying as a mark of weakness, but even growing up among the Shield-breakers had not made Atreus enough of an ogre to keep from weeping. He sat up and wiped his eyes, determined not to dampen Yago’s body with tears the ogre would have scorned.

” Till them mountains crumble,” Atreus whispered.

It was the last line of the Shield-breaker requiem, spoken only in honor of faithful warriors whose memories the tribe promised to keep alive. Atreus ran his hand over Yago’s face and closed the ogre’s one good eye. He was overcome by such a profound sense of guilt that he broke into a sweat and had to turn away.

“I am so sorry, my friend,” Atreus said grasping the ogre’s cold arm. He could not look at the ogre.

“I should never have brought you here. This is my fault.”

“I am not so certain,” said Seema.

She kneeled next to Atreus and began to go through Yago’s cloak. The Dweller let out a warning whistle and slithered closer, but she ignored the monster and continued her search.

“What are you doing?” Atreus asked.

“Was the Dweller not looking for something?” She pulled a handful of small stones from Yago’s pocket, and her face fell in disappointment. “Gems,” she said. “This is the reason he was attacked. But why did Yago not listen to me? I warned you all not to touch the Dweller’s jewels.”

“Yago did listen to you. He didn’t steal those,” Atreus said. He took the gems and tossed them in the Dweller’s direction. “Back in Rivenshield, we have chests filled with jewels.”

Seema frowned, confused. “How come the stones were in his pocket?” She had hardly asked the question before her jaw dropped. “Rishi!”

Atreus nodded and rolled Yago onto his face—a Shield-breaker custom to protect the eyes of the dead from crows—then stood and started back up the passage at a hobbling trot

Seema grabbed her bucket and followed close behind. “You don’t think…”

“I do,” Atreus said. “Rishi set this up so he could steal the

Fountain of Infinite Grace… and everything else.” “I saw him hit the wall,” Seema said, her voice far from

confident “He did not even groan. He had to be dead or

unconscious.” “Or a good actor,” Atreus added. “And Rishi is a very

good actor.”

By the time they found their way out of the Dweller’s warren, Atreus’s wounds ached as terribly as his heart. His whole flank was sore and swollen, and every step sent a fresh rush of agony surging through his joints. He did not care, nor did he make any concession to his injuries, pushing his body through its torment as only a man raised by ogres could. The question in his mind and Seema’s was the same: had Rishi planned Yago’s death?

They knew the answer as soon as they climbed out of the tunnel. Save for a faint aura of radiance still lingering over the Pool of Gems, the alabaster palace was as dark as a crypt. Even from the edge of the vast chamber, they could see that the stairs into the temple were dry, as was the hallway leading to the exit Rishi had stolen the Fountain of Infinite Grace, and no doubt everything else on the altar as well.

“I’ll kill him!”

“You mustn’t say such things, not even for what Rishi has done,” Seema told him in a voice as sad as it was gentle. “Your anger will destroy you as surely as his greed has destroyed him.”

“It’s Yago that his greed destroyed,” Atreus countered. His hand ached from clutching the knife so hard. “And Langdarma.”

“I do not see how that makes him different from you. Had you awakened ugly tomorrow, would you have left the cup in its place?”

Atreus answered in a bitter voice, “Now I’ll never know, will I?”

He set off toward the exit, not looking at Seema. She was at least half right The results for Langdarma would have been the same whether Rishi stole the cup or he did. Perhaps it was a blessing to have escaped the temptation. Had he yielded, Atreus had no illusions about how he would have felt about himself.

Atreus reached the exit and stepped out onto the gallery, then heard Seema gasp as she followed him through the door. The reflecting pool below had turned as brown as the Dweller’s blood, and the meadow beside it had faded to the dead gold of parched grass. Even the vast valley of Langdarma itself was fading from emerald to amber.

At the edge of the meadow stood the milky-winged figure of the Sannyasi, weeping tears of silver. Atreus’s rage turned instantly to remorse. Had Seema not been standing behind him, he would have retreated into the palace and gone to lose himself in the Dweller’s warren.

The Sannyasi’s silver eyes rose and lingered on him, looking less angry than shocked. Atreus could not bring himself to move or speak. It required all his strength simply not to look away.

After a time, Seema took Atreus’s hand and led him down the stairs. “Have no fear. The Sannyasi would never harm us, no matter what we have done.”

This seemed a small consolation to Atreus, whose own guilt was eating away at his insides. He would almost rather have been stricken dead on the spot, but there was still the matter of Rishi to deal with.

The Sannyasi watched them descend the stairs and cross the meadow, then turned his silver gaze on Seema alone.

“You brought this man here?”

Seema stared at the ground and said, “Him, and his friends Rishi and Yago.”

Something inside the Sannyasi appeared to collapse. His wings drooped, he seemed suddenly smaller, and his eyes grew old.

Seema continued, “There was a fight. The Dweller killed Yago. Rishi stole the cup of shining waters and probably six other sacred items as well.”

The Sannyasi only nodded and turned to look out over the valley. He remained silent for a long time, then spoke without looking at Seema.

“You have done the unpardonable. Langdarma will suffer terribly for it. I doubt your healing magic will return.”

Seema squeezed her eyes shut, but could not quite keep the tears from flowing down her cheeks. “I understand,” she managed to say.

“There is more.” The Sannyasi still did not look at her as he said, “I will go and organize a search for this Rishi and the Seven Sacred Gifts. If they are not recovered, I fear you must leave Langdarma and never return.”

Seema started to nod, but this was more than Atreus could bear.

“You’re not being fair,” he said. “Seema isn’t to blame. I forced her—”

“That is not so,” interrupted Seema. She grasped Atreus’s arm. “My reasons for bringing you here were as selfish as yours for wanting to come. To claim otherwise is to cheapen what there was between us.”

The word “was” hit Atreus like a hammer. Though he had already guessed the price of his betrayal, this was the first time Seema had confirmed the loss.

The Sannyasi studied Atreus for a moment and said, “I am sorry. This pain I cannot bear for you.”

“And what of his wounds?” Seema gestured at Atreus’s mangled side. “Will you heal them?”

The Sannyasi glanced down at Atreus’s knife, still brown and crusted with the Dweller’s blood. “The wounds will heal in time, but for now it is better to let pain temper his violent heart.”

“Temper my violent heart?” Atreus’s anger returned in a flood. “You don’t know violence until you’ve traveled with Rishi Saubhari. He’s a murdering thief who won’t hesitate to kill everyone you send after him. Help me catch him, and you’ll save a dozen lives.”

“And take one.” The Sannyasi’s eyes grew stern and he continued, “You are as much a killer as your friend, and I will not help in your wickedness. To slay a man over the shining waters would be an evil beyond redemption. It would draw a cloak of darkness over Langdarma so black that the Serene Ones would never find us again.”

The Sannyasi paused to calm himself, then spread his wings and turned toward the edge of the meadow.

“You will not defy me in this.”

He stepped off the cliff and dropped into the valley. A moment later his silver wake was curving around the Turquoise Cliffs into the basin where Seema lived.

As soon as the gleaming trail had faded from the sky, Atreus turned to Seema and said, “I have no right to ask you for anything, and I’m not asking for myself, but your Sannyasi doesn’t know Rishi.”

“He knows you.”

Seema’s eyes dropped to the knife in Atreus’s hand.

Atreus thrust the weapon into his belt. “You must understand what I’m saying. Rishi has a plan … just like he did when he tricked the Dweller into attacking Yago. He wouldn’t have risked that without knowing that he could escape me. If he can escape me, no one from Langdarma is going to stop him. He’ll kill anyone who tries.”

Seema remained silent for several moments, then looked away. “I can’t defy the Sannyasi,” she said. “Not in this.”

“You’d rather let Rishi steal the cup?”

“Than let you kill him over it? Yes.”

Seema stepped back, met Atreus’s gaze, and shook her head.

“You are a good man, Atreus, but a weak one,” she said

“You are no match for your passions, and if I help you again, you will only end up killing Rishi or stealing the cup for yourself… or both, which would be as bad for you as for Langdarma.”