Select

by Patricia Reding

  “But whatever else she was, she was my charge. I took a life oath to protect her and I did my best to live up to that oath. When she took off for parts unknown without informing me, my every thought centered on finding her, reaching her side, keeping her safe.”

  “Hmmmm. I’m curious,” Jerrett asked after a moment of silence, “what do you suppose you would have done if you’d known her plans when she searched for Reigna and Eden?”

  “I hate to even think about it. I owed my duty to her—but also to the Good One. Could I have stood by? Could I have watched her engage in such . . . evil doings?” He dropped his gaze. “Could I?” he asked quietly, as though posing the question to himself only.

  “No.”

  “No? You don’t think so?” He glanced Jerrett’s way. “The bond is very strong.”

  “Yes, I know of the bond. But I also know that it’s not so strong that a man of your integrity would have assisted Lilith in her endeavors. Moreover, she’d left Ehyeh some time before she set out for the twins. She broke the bond between the two of you long before she searched for them.”

  “I’d like to think that’s true, that I wouldn’t have assisted her, had she not . . . released me.” He grimaced.

  Jerrett led the way around the back of some vendors’ stalls set up along the roadway. Voices making deals, bartering and badgering, filled the air along with the smells of the city, ranging from the foul odors of the occasional wino passing by, to the luxurious scents of roasting foods. They met and mingled.

  “Is that why her memory is still so strong with you, even after all these years, do you think? Because you doubt what you might have done?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I think you should put your mind at rest—set that particular ghost aside. Lilith didn’t take you with her on her murderous journey precisely because she knew that you wouldn’t support her. She knew you’d have done your best to stop her, or that you’d have died trying.”

  Again, Marshall glanced at his friend. “Maybe.”

  “Trust me.” Jerrett turned into another side street. “Lilith knew that what she did was wrong. She used Velia, but she was careful to keep the facts from her. She knew that an Oathtaker owes his allegiance to his charge, but that he owes an even great duty to Ehyeh—to life and to freedom.”

  “Right.” Marshall dropped his head in thought. “You know, there’s something I’ve never told anyone about Lilith’s murderous journey.”

  Jerrett’s brow furrowed. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I had a premonition.”

  “Part of your attendant magic?”

  “That’s right.” Marshall paused. “When the soldiers from Chiran arrived at the palace—you know, the ones Lilith took along with her on her journey—I was reminded of a premonition I’d had shortly before that.”

  “And?”

  “And before I had an opportunity to warn her, she released me.”

  “So you said nothing.”

  Marshall shrugged. “I didn’t know all of what she was doing, or what would transpire, but I knew that she was on the wrong track. I determined, since I no longer owed her anything, that . . . Well, I said nothing.”

  “You knew she would die?”

  “No. But I knew it was possible. Maybe that’s why she still haunts my thoughts. Maybe I could have stopped her . . . Then again, maybe not. She wasn’t big on listening to anyone.”

  Jerrett put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, as he gently pulled on his horse’s reins. In unison, the two halted. “I understand. I think I’d have done the same thing. But you know, there’s something I’ve always wondered.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why didn’t she raise her own son?”

  “Broden?” Marshall looked down the street before meeting Jerrett’s eyes, then glancing off once again. “Because I saw her . . . mistreat him. I stopped her, but I should have stopped her sooner. I doubted what she was up to . . . for a time. Broden was just an infant, completely at her mercy. But when I saw . . .” He swallowed hard. “When I saw her with my own eyes, when I could not deny the truth, I informed Rowena. That very night she and I arranged for someone to take Broden from the palace.”

  “And you feel no . . . guilt for having done so?”

  “Guilt? No! It was the right thing to do. In time, Lilith would have—”

  “Killed him?”

  “I believe so.”

  “What did she—”

  “Do?” Marshall completed the question. He stretched his shoulders back, seemingly lost in thought for a long moment. Finally, he urged his horse on, waving at Jerrett to join him. “Have you ever seen the scars that run down Broden’s legs?”

  “Yes. Was Lilith responsible for them, somehow?”

  Marshall sighed. “I’d wondered if she’d mistreated him. He broke an arm when he was just a few months old. Lilith told everyone he’d fallen from a divan.”

  “But he didn’t,” Jerrett said after a moment of silence.

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. A short time later, we discovered that he suffered from insufficient nutrition. Lilith claimed that he just wasn’t eating well.”

  “But you doubted that.”

  “I came to doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Shortly after we discovered Broden’s malnutrition— Actually it was just weeks after his first injury—his broken arm—I walked into Lilith’s chambers one evening as she was putting him into a bath.” Marshall’s eyes watered.

  Jerrett watched his friend who seemed to struggle with his memories. “What did you find?”

  Closing his eyes, as though trying to negate the truth of his memories, Marshall shuddered. “The water was scalding hot.”

  “She burned him? On purpose?”

  “I . . . believe so.”

  “It wasn’t an accident?” Jerrett asked, clearly horrified.

  “I might have believed it was an accident if it hadn’t been for the other problems and . . . well . . . if I hadn’t seen her face when I stepped into that room. There was a sort of malicious satisfaction in her countenance.”

  “Oh, gracious Good One! What happened?”

  “Broden’s screams were as loud as any I’ve ever heard.” Marshall went silent. A long minute passed. “Sometimes it seems like the sound of that scream still echoes through my mind.”

  Jerrett looked away, granting his friend the privacy of his thoughts. “So then what?” he finally asked.

  “I rushed in and grabbed the child. I ran to Rowena with him. Thank the Good One that her powers as the ranking member of the Select included some ability to heal. She immediately put the child at ease, but . . . Well, unfortunately, her powers weren’t sufficient to avoid the scars.”

  “And that’s when you and Rowena sent him away?”

  “Rowena either couldn’t or just didn’t want to believe that Lilith would have done any of those things on purpose. She always believed the best in people, and she treaded lightly around Lilith. I think she really wanted a better relationship with her.

  “Rowena didn’t want to accuse her sister of anything, and I don’t think she ever told anyone about my claims—that Lilith had purposely harmed the child. I don’t even know if Rowena fully believed me. But she had enough doubts that she was unwilling to take any chances with his safety. She made arrangements for him straightaway and then never said another word about him. No one asked, if you can believe that. It was as if everyone knew it was a subject to avoid.”

  “Did Lilith know you were behind her son’s disappearance?”

  “I assume so, since I never brought him back to her. And she never asked after him. Frankly, I think she was relieved to find him . . . gone.”

  Jerrett shook his head. “Oh, she knew. She knew you wouldn’t allow such behavior. You said it yourself. You saw her and you stopped her. Lilith didn’t take you along when she went after Reigna and Eden b
ecause she knew you wouldn’t stand for it and that you’d do whatever was necessary to stop her.”

  Marshall looked away. Slowly, he nodded.

  “Does Broden know all of this?”

  “That Lilith tortured him?”

  “Yes. Does he know this about his mother? About what happened? How old was he when Rowena took him away, anyway?”

  “Just a few months old. And in answer to your question, no, he doesn’t know.”

  “You sure?”

  “He spent a lot of time with me over the years. I think he thought that being near me might somehow bring his mother closer to him, so I did my best to take him under my wing. He seemed to think I could somehow connect him with his past and . . .” Marshall shrugged. “Well, I’d like to think I served as a kind of father figure to him after I arrived at the compound. That was something he’d never had before.”

  “How old was he then?”

  “Oh, I guess,” Marshall paused, thinking, “about four. Five, maybe.”

  “I see.” Jerrett swerved around a merchant’s cart. “You’ve been like a father to him, but in all the years, you’ve never told him any of this?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever ask?”

  “He complained more than once that Lucy wouldn’t tell him anything of his— Well, that Lucy never answered him when he asked why Lilith hadn’t raised him. Finally . . . I guess he was well into his teens, he asked me one day why he was brought up at the compound and why he hadn’t lived with Lilith.”

  “Ooooh, that was a tough spot to be in. What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that Lilith wanted to keep him safe, and that things were insecure and hazardous around the palace in those days. I told him it was all for his own safety.”

  “So, you lied to him.”

  Marshall’s head jerked his friend’s way. Seeing no judgment on his face, he looked away again. “Not the part about its being for his own safety. Besides, wouldn’t you have? Lied to him, I mean?”

  “Yes, I suppose you were right not to tell him. Who knows what that knowledge might have done to him? Children may believe unsavory things about their own parents, but they never want to hear others speak negatively of them. A child’s sense of self is closely aligned with his knowledge of what others think of his parents. Who knows? If Broden knew of his mother’s past, might he have believed himself also somehow . . . evil? Unworthy? Such a belief can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  Marshall shrugged.

  “And what of his father?”

  Glancing at Jerrett, Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, right, you don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  Marshall said nothing for a long minute. “Broden’s father is . . . Zarek.”

  “Zarek! Of Chiran? That Zarek?” Jerrett pulled back in wonder. “How? Wh— I don’t understand.”

  “Nina revealed it at the hearing. You know, when Mara met with the Council and claimed her position as its head. Nina told them all that she recognized Lilith.”

  “Zarek!” Jerrett exclaimed again. “How could that have happened?”

  Marshall looked out at the bustling foot traffic. He directed his mount to the side, to bypass a group gathered around a booth where a vendor hawked supposed magical artifacts.

  “Lilith often took off—just vanished—and sometimes for months on end. Sometime before Broden was born, she left and was gone for a very long time. I couldn’t locate her. For a time, I thought she was dead.”

  “But she wasn’t.”

  “No. But we didn’t know until the hearing that she’d gone to Chiran. Apparently she was close to Zarek. There, she went by a different name.”

  “Nina told you all this?”

  “She recognized her.”

  “How?”

  “Remember, before Nina escaped Chiran, she was a slave at Zarek’s palace. When Lilith went to the inn to kidnap the twins, Nina immediately recognized her as Zarek’s consort, the woman known in Chiran as ‘Semira.’”

  “Semira,” Jerrett said with sarcasm. “Nighttime companion.”

  Marshall nodded. “You can’t make this stuff up.”

  Jerrett grinned. “Did Nina tell you all this?”

  “Not me, no. She told Mara and Dixon and the Council when she testified before them all. Later, Mara asked her to keep the information to herself. Except for when Lucy told me, nary a word has been said about it all these years.”

  “When was that? That Lucy told you, I mean?”

  Marshall looked into the distance. “Oh, I guess Broden was all of six? Seven, maybe? I don’t remember the specifics, but something happened one day. I guess Lucy noticed me trying to parent Broden. She thought I should know the truth. She asked me not to say anything more and . . . I never have.”

  “Imagine Broden knowing and having to live with that information.”

  “Imagine Zarek knowing.”

  Quietly, the two rode on, each lost in his thoughts. The sounds of the bustling city surrounded them.

  “Come on,” Jerrett finally said, motioning with a wave of his arm. “It’s just on the next block.”

  The Oathtakers turned at the end of the street. They rode past a newsboy who cried out the headlines from the daily fliers. Then, after making their way around carriages, people on horseback, and those on foot, they arrived at a small, weathered inn. Unattached to the buildings at its sides, it stood a mere two stories high. Though old, someone clearly maintained it well. From another, even smaller building tucked behind it, horses and carriages came and went. A large oak grew in the front yard, partially concealing from view, a sign hung above the front door that read: The Clandest Inn.

  “I love the name of this place!” Jerrett exclaimed with a smile, as the sign came fully into view.

  Marshall looked up. “Yes, ‘The Clandest Inn’ is the perfect name for a spymaster’s place.”

  When they arrived at the stables, the men dismounted. They handed their reins to the stable boys, whose hair and clothing was mottled with hay dust. After watching the youths walk the horses into the stables, they made their way to the front door.

  Inside they found a lively pub filled with patrons scattered about, brews in their hands, talking and laughing. Two barmaids wound their way from table to table, taking orders, ducking passes, and bantering with the guests.

  Jerrett approached the front desk, where a man stood busily pouring drinks. At first glance, he appeared somewhat shady, with his untidy clothing and short scruffy beard. But on closer examination, a keen observer could see that he carefully crafted his look.

  The man looked up. Instant recognition lit up his eyes and brought a smile to his face. “Jerrett!” he cried as he rushed out from behind the bar. “It is so good to see you!”

  Jerrett gripped the man’s hand in a firm shake. “Ezra, it’s good to see you, too.”

  “You haven’t been here since . . . Goodness, how long has it been?”

  Jerrett blinked rapidly, in thought. “I guess it must be going on . . . ten years.”

  “Ten years. Ten years!” Ezra repeated. “So, what brings you here now?”

  The Oathtaker turned to acknowledge his companion. “You remember Marshall, don’t you?”

  The innkeeper glanced at him. “Why yes, of course, Marshall. We met— Let’s see . . .”

  Marshall shook Ezra’s hand. “The twins were just infants. Lilith—”

  “Oh yes! Yes, of course, at the hearing.” Ezra motioned for one of his assistants to deliver drinks to some patrons. Turning back to his guests, he nodded at a table, then followed them to it. They all sat.

  Almost immediately, a barmaid approached. A slight woman, with delicate features and skin of bronze, her dark chestnut hair hung down and straight. Her clothing consisted of a simple but closely fit dress that covered her from chin to toes, yet she seemed to exude a sensuality that positively screamed. No one, male or female, could ignore her presence.

  “Oh, Celestine,” the i
nnkeeper acknowledged the woman, “drinks are on the way already.”

  Both Marshall and Jerrett eyed the barmaid, momentarily lost in thought.

  Ezra, noticing their distraction, followed their gaze and then laughed. “Yes, she does have that effect,” he said as she walked away.

  Marshall averted his eyes.

  Jerrett also looked back at his host. “Yes, I remember her from my last visit.” He shook his head. “How do you work around that?” he asked, grinning.

  “You think my wife beautiful, huh?”

  Marshall’s eyes darted from Jerrett to Ezra, concerned there might be trouble between the men.

  “Your wife!” Jerrett exclaimed. “Oh, I am sorry! I didn’t know.”

  “No. No, don’t be sorry,” Ezra said, waving his hand. “Celestine is most beautiful. Of course, now that you know that she’s not available, I expect that you—and your eyes—will respect that fact.”

  The visitors both caught a quick last glance at Celestine who now assisted guests at a nearby table.

  “Of course,” Jerrett said, turning his attention back to Ezra. He paused for a moment and then grinned impishly. “I, too, have a stunning wife.”

  “Yes, I know. I met her. Remember?”

  Frowning, Jerrett’s brow dropped. Then, realizing Ezra merely repaid the compliment, he grinned. “Yes, well, if we weren’t living at the compound, I imagine life would be more difficult.”

  Ezra laughed. “Yes, difficult . . . and interesting.”

  Marshall chuckled. “You two have no idea how hard you have it.”

  “Ha ha ha!” Jerrett laughed. “This from the compound’s resident bachelor,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

  Once again, the innkeeper laughed. “Well, stick around, Marshall. Plenty of beautiful women find their way here. Who knows?”

  Marshall shook his head. “No,” he said, his hand held out as though physically holding the man back. “Thanks, but no. I’ve had enough of beautiful women in my time.”

  “Of course. Lilith was your charge. I imagine she could spoil a man’s idea of beauty.”

  “No, I just find that I don’t trust it as readily as others might—that maybe living without beauty surrounding me is easier than living with it.”