by Mark Eller
Ignoring Faith, Aaron fastened his eyes on their companion. The woman looked back with a haggard expression, unsure, and a touch frightened. Shifting, she gave a little shrug. "Hello, Mister Turner."
Her voice sounded exactly as he remembered. Years folded back. Memories raced to the foreground, and pain rumbled in his belly. Aaron tried to speak, could not, and turned his gaze to Armand and Faith. "I left orders your companion wasn't allowed near me."
Faith looked confused. "We thought you meant Heshel, but Aaron, I don't understand why you dislike Brenda. After all, she's only here because a friend of yours asked her to give you some little steel balls you left with him. If not for those pellets and Brenda's efforts, Prophet of the Lord would have locked our minds up as tight as everyone else's."
When Aaron looked back to the woman, the pain in his belly did not abate. If anything, it grew worse. His face felt damp, and his fingers trembled.
"Brenda?'
Montpass licked her lips. "I-I changed my name to try to get away from my husband. It didn't work. He found me, beat me, robbed me, and then raped me."
Fury burst through Aaron's brain. His lips thinned. "I'll kill him."
"I already did."
"What!"
"After the rape, I waited for Brian outside his favorite bar and stuck a knife in his back when he staggered out."
Brenda released a bitter laugh. "They wanted to give me the death penalty, but after I spent most everything I had on several very bad lawyers, I contacted Miss Bivin's agency. One of her associates, Miss Adams, hired a crooked lawyer who talked a jury into second degree murder, so I got life instead of a rope. A year later Miss Adams bought a judge, paid off a governor, and I got a pardon."
"Gods," Aaron managed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Amanda told me nothing, although she hinted at something not long before going back to Isabella."
Stepping further into the room, Brenda pulled out a chair and sat wearily down.
Watching, Aaron saw small lines etched across her forehead and around her eyes. This woman was worn and beat, but something in her expression, something in the way she held her body, said she remained unbeaten.
"Yes," she said. "Miss Bivins didn't tell you because I wrote a letter asking her not to. Mister Turner, back then, back when I was a girl, I did you dirty. I led you on. I hurt you. I abandoned you, and then, when you offered me a way out, I rejected you again."
"Cathy, I…"
She shook her head. "Cathy Haig is dead. I'm Brenda Montpass now, legally sworn before a judge with papers on file to prove it, but Mister Turner, sir, I could be Cathy again. For you. I've come here to tell you I was stupid and foolish. I've come to tell you I love you. I've always loved you. If you will allow it, I'll do anything to make up for my cruelty, but you need to know I'm not the same person as before. I've been to prison, and I'm a harder woman for it. Not only did I murder my husband, I killed a woman in the prison because I felt threatened. Later, while with Prophet, I murdered two others because I thought they were dangerous and because I knew those deaths would improve my position within the crusade."
Aaron ground his teeth. He looked around to see they were alone. Without him knowing, the others had left.
Cathy's--no, Brenda's eyes fastened on him. The hope they held slowly faded, became resignation.
"Anything?" Aaron finally asked.
"Anything," She answered sadly. "I'll be your housemaid, your cook, or if you allow it, your mistress. Mister Turner, I only ask you to give me a chance to prove I've changed. I'm steady now. I know what I want, and I'm not afraid." She leaned forward. "What I want is you."
"I'm no longer emperor," Aaron told her. "I've thrown away my Stone, and I'll probably forswear my fortune to the cause of the One God. I've a new calling, Brenda. I've a need to teach and a church to build. It won't be easy. There'll be hardship and strife, and I won't know from one week to the next where I'll sleep. It will be dangerous."
Rising from her chair, Brenda slowly walked around the desk and dropped to her knees before Aaron. Reaching out, she grasped his right hand between both of hers.
"I will follow anywhere you lead," she whispered. "I will do anything you ask. I will die for your cause. I'm not afraid anymore, Mister Turner. Please let me serve you. Let me prove myself." She drew a deep breath, "Let me clean myself."
Reaching down with his crippled hand, Aaron touched her cheek. "You left me more than fifteen years ago. Since then, Sarah and Ernest died, Kit abandoned me, and my marriage to Melna was always a farce. I've no luck with women, Brenda, none at all, but during all those years, during my marriages and the times between, my biggest regret was you marrying another man."
He lifted her head until she looked into his eyes. "You can't serve me. You can't follow me, but you can walk beside me. If you're willing, you can marry me because I've never loved any woman so much as I've loved you and Sarah. Even the love the One God gave me for all His people pales beside what I feel for you."
Brenda rose to Aaron's insistent pull. He leaned into her, kissed her, and inside his soul the One God thrummed approval.
With that kiss Brenda Montpass died, and Cathy Bayne was reborn.
* * *
Aaron lay awake with a head too full of thoughts for him to sleep. At his side lay Cathy with her cheek nestled on his shoulder. Both fully clothed, they had been too long apart and owned too many scars to risk their fragile relationship with a hurried coupling. For this night, they were together. It was enough. The rest would come later, when they were ready, when their scars had time to fade.
A sensation entered Aaron. Knowledge. Someone was out there, on the plains. Someone dangerous was hurt, needing, and feeling guilty.
Aaron shifted and half sat up. Waking, Cathy stroked his cheek with a callused hand.
"What is it,?" she whispered.
The One God seeped into Aaron, letting him know this task was not his. He relaxed. "It's okay. It's okay. I thought some people needed my help, but they'll take care of each other."
He lay back down, and Cathy's head found his shoulder once more. Closing his eyes, Aaron reflected on how he felt happy and content. He had a purpose, had a mission promising to be greater and more fulfilling than anything he ever imagined. Ahead of him lay responsibility and hardship, but he could not find it in himself to complain.
Aaron stroked Cathy's hair and smiled. He had been given the greatest gift a man could know. Any price paid for such a treasure was a pittance. Turning his head, he kissed Cathy's hair, wondering how he would break the news he and her sister had been long term lovers. Hopefully, Cathy would understand. If not, they would work matters out in time.
Falling asleep with Cathy's head nestled on his shoulder, he released a light snore, coughed gently. Coughed again. A small something fell from his mouth. A membrane sack slid to the sheet. The sack shivered, shimmered, and broke apart.
A new Zisst was born.
Epilogue
Lioth stood outside the city with a mutilated woman by her side. They were there, her people, inside the city, or moving deeper into the plains. Either way, the Chins were once again joined into a single empire. The war was over. The killing finished, and she heard sounds of celebration.
Lioth could not celebrate, nor could she join her people. She was separate, different and dishonored. She had lied and deceived. She had led two thousand Chins into a trap where they were outnumbered, out weaponed, and soon dead.
She had done it and did not know why. But she did know she lost herself, lost her foundation, because she followed Han Chuk, her hero. She had lied and deceived because her ego wanted stroking by a man she once admired and soon despised.
Now the war was over. Delmac was dead, and Lioth was a pariah, despised by those she betrayed, feared by those she once served. Lioth was alone except for this crippled slave who had been pushed off on her by…by…she did not remember. Truthfully, Lioth was not sure how she became responsible for the former slave. All she remembered was
a pull, a need to travel, and then…then….
Lioth shook herself. Fire burned in her brain. Anger. Shame. She wanted to explode. She wanted to sneak into the city and destroy everyone who had shunned her. She wanted to burn the plains so the cattle would die.
Groaning, she felt her wild talents surge. Loose. Uncontrolled and many. Too many to count. She was dangerous, deadly, suicidal, and gods, she missed Delmac. When with him her devils had calmed, if only for the space of a kiss. Now he was dead, and everything was so much worse than before.
She burned. Lioth looked down to see invisible flames dancing on her skin. She wanted to raise her head and howl. She needed to smell blood, to be covered by it.
A hand touched her shoulder. Cool. Calming. Her skin's fire sucked back into her body. Her eyesight wavered, danced, and she shook uncontrollably when her bloodlust faded.
Looking down, she saw the hand touching her forearm was a shadowy thing of crooked lines.
The broken woman looked at her with understanding eyes. Something enfolded Lioth, engulfed her, and then came peace. A presence watched, granting an incomplete and impermanent gift, but this peace was enough for now.
"Thank you," Lioth whispered to the invisible presence and to the nameless slave. For the first time in months, she felt a touch of hope.
Fireside stories said those cursed by wild Talent always died horribly. Unless their own people killed them as children, Wild Talents took hundreds and sometimes thousands with them to the grave.
Lioth wanted to lay down in a grave, but she could not. Delmac would despise her if she did. Delmac would expect better.
Delmac was dead, but his memory lived. Lioth refused to dishonor him by taking her own life. Her love would expect her to fight, would expect her to search for a solution. With the maimed woman's help, Lioth would have a chance to find a solution. It would take time and work and would not be easy, but she would beat this thing. She would.
Turning away from the city and its celebrations, she walked out onto the plains, alone but for a crippled woman with no tongue. She would win this battle, but until then, she had no choice but to live almost alone.
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