by Brent Weeks
The question lanced through Kylar. He felt ashamed.
“She started working on the slavery issue, Kylar, and she decided that she was going to visit the baby farms and the slave galleys and the fighting pits. I couldn’t very well let her go alone, so for the first time, I saw my handiwork.” The count’s eyes grew distant. “Oh Kylar, how she moved among those wretches. In all the stench of human waste and despair and evil, she was a fresh cool breeze, a breath of hope. She was light in the dark places I’d made. I saw a champion pit fighter, a man who’d killed fifty men, weep at her touch.
“I was a man tearing in half. I decided to get out, but like most moral cowards, I didn’t want to pay the full price. So I traveled to Seth, where slavery is so different. I came back and in secret helped pass a law that would free the slaves every seven years. The Sa’kagé allowed it to pass but tacked on a provision that made it effectively void. Then one day Ulana, who was then my fiancée, came to my estate, weeping. Her father and mother had been badly hurt in a carriage accident. She thought her mother was dying, and she needed me. At the same time, the Nine were meeting in my parlor because King Davin was on the verge of outlawing slavery again and that, of course, would cost us millions. Do you know whom I sent away, Kylar?”
“You sent away the Nine?” Kylar was aghast. Such an insult would mean death.
“I sent Ulana away.”
“Damn. Um, sorry.”
“No, that’s how I felt. Damned. That’s where the God found me, Kylar. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was dead inside. I thought it would be the death of me to cut my ties to the Sa’kagé, especially when I realized that it wouldn’t be enough to hand over my empire intact to someone who could continue it. Instead, I had to use all my cunning to hand it over to men who would tear it to pieces.
“So that’s what I did. I used the money I had made to fund those who would rebuild the good I had destroyed and destroy the obscenities I had built. When I was done, I was penniless, my family was bankrupt, and I had dozens of powerful enemies. I went to Ulana, told her everything, and broke our engagement.”
“What did she do?” Kylar asked.
“It broke her heart to learn what I’d been, Kylar, and to learn that she’d known so little of me when she thought she knew everything. It took time, but she forgave me. I couldn’t believe that. But she really did. It took me longer to forgive myself, but a year later, after slavery was outlawed once more—in part because of my own efforts against it—we were married. I’ve had to work hard for the last twenty years. I’ve often been held back by my old reputation, and sometimes by my new one. You know how most of the nobles look on those of us who actually work. But my money is clean. And the God has been good. My family has enough. My children are a joy to me. Logan has proposed to Serah, and she’s said yes. I get to have Logan as a son. How haven’t I been blessed? Anyway, I should have told you this long ago. Maybe you already knew some of it through the Sa’kagé.”
“No, sir. I had no idea,” Kylar said.
“Son, I hope you see now that I do understand. I know what lies the Sa’kagé tells, and I know what it can cost to get out. The God was gracious to me. He didn’t make me pay all that I owed, but maybe I had to be willing to pay the full price. That’s how repentance is different from regret. I had been sorry about how slavery turned out, but I wasn’t willing to take responsibility for it. Once I was, the God could work in me.”
“But sir, how are you still alive? I mean, you didn’t just leave, you destroyed a business that earned them millions!”
Count Drake smiled. “God, Kylar. The God and Durzo. Durzo likes me. He thinks I’m a fool, but he likes me. He’s protected me. He’s not a man to cross lightly.”
Thanks for the reminder.
“The point is, Kylar, if you want to turn away from what you do, you can. You might miss your work. I imagine that you’re excellent, and there is a joy in excellence. You can’t pay for all you’ve done. But you aren’t beyond redemption. There’s always a way out. And if you’re willing to make the sacrifice, the God will give you the chance to save something priceless. But I’m here to tell you, miracles do happen. Like this one,” he pointed out the window and shook his head, incredulous. “My daughter, marrying a man as good as Logan. May the God be with them.”
Kylar was blinking through tears, so he almost missed the count leaning forward further, looking toward the front gate. His eyes cleared as soon as he saw the soldiers push past the old porter. Kylar was on his feet in a moment, but the soldiers didn’t come to the front door. They stopped when they reached Logan and Serah, and the count opened the window to hear the captain as he unrolled a scroll.
“Duke Logan Gyre, you are hereby under arrest for high treason in the murder of Prince Aleine Gunder.”
46
Count Drake was out the door in an instant. Kylar hesitated at the very place he’d run into Logan ten years ago and started their friendship with a fistfight. He shouldn’t go out. There was no time to think how much the guards knew, but if they thought Logan had been involved in the prince’s death, who knew what else they thought? The king must be totally paranoid. Whatever was happening, it was never a good idea to bring yourself to the guards’ attention.
But seeing the bewilderment on Logan’s face dug into Kylar. He was just standing there as the smaller men disarmed him. He looked like a dog you’d kicked for no reason, eyes wide. Cursing himself for his stupidity, Kylar followed Count Drake.
“I demand an explanation,” Count Drake said. Despite his limp, he somehow moved with authority. All eyes turned to him.
“We’re, we’re making an arrest, sir. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you,” the captain said. He was a thick little man with yellow skin and almond eyes, but it seemed to take all of his determination just to stand before the count and not be blown away.
“You’re attempting to arrest a duke, and you don’t have the authority to do that, Captain Arturian. By the third amendment to the common law in the eighth year of the reign of King Hurol II, the arrest of dukes of the realm must be justified by habeas corpus, two witnesses, and a motive. Incarceration requires two of those three.”
Captain Arturian swallowed and seemed to be holding his spine straight only by an act of will. “We, um, habeas corpus is holding the corpse? So I have to bring two witnesses or provide motive before you’ll let me arrest the duke?”
“If you have the corpse,” Count Drake said.
The man nodded. “We, uh, we do, sir. The prince’s body was found last night at the Jadwin estate, and the motive is a matter of …uh. It doesn’t bear speaking, sir.”
“If you attempt to arrest Duke Gyre at my home outside the provisions of the law, as a noble of the land, I have the right and the obligation to protect him with the force of arms.”
“We’d slaughter you!” one of the guards said, laughing.
“And if you did, you’d touch off civil war. Is that what you want?” Count Drake asked. The man who’d spoken fell silent, and Vin Arturian went gray. “Either produce a motive that would lead a man of known moral excellence like Duke Gyre to kill one of his best friends, or begone.”
“Milord,” Captain Arturian said, his eyes downcast. “Forgive me. The motive was jealousy.”
For some reason, Kylar’s eyes moved to Serah. She still looked stricken by the news, but as the captain grew more awkward, she seemed to shrink into herself, as if she knew what he was going to say next.
“Duke Gyre found out that the prince was having …sexual relations with your daughter.”
“That’s ludicrous!” Logan said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. For godsake, she hasn’t even made love with me! Her fiancé! Aleine gets around, but he would never—”
Logan looked at Serah and never finished the sentence. “Serah, you …you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” It was as if his soul had been stripped naked and all the darts in the world sank into it at once.
Serah kee
ned, a sound of such woe it tore the heart, but none of the men moved. She ran away, back into the house, but they stood transfixed in Logan’s pain.
Logan turned to the count. “You knew?”
Rimbold Drake shook his head. “I didn’t know who, but she said she’d told you. That all was forgiven.”
Logan looked at Kylar.
“The same,” Kylar said quietly.
Logan took it like another dart. He struggled for breath. “Captain,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”
The soldier who’d spoken before moved forward at the captain’s signal and started putting the manacles on Logan’s hands. “Damn, boy,” he said quietly, obviously only for Logan’s ears, but in the stillness of the yard his words were clearly audible. “You got fucked without even getting fucked first.”
It was only the second time Kylar had seen Logan lose his temper, but the last time, he’d been a boy and he hadn’t been nearly as powerful as he was now. Maybe a wetboy would have noticed the muscles tensing in Logan’s shoulders and arm. Maybe a wetboy would have had the reflexes to dodge, but the guard didn’t stand a chance. Logan ripped his hand away before the second manacle clicked shut and hit the guard in the face. Kylar didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone hit so hard. Master Blint, with his Talent-strengthened muscles, could probably hit that hard, but he wouldn’t have the mass behind the blow that Logan did.
The guard flew backward. Literally. His feet left the ground and he knocked over the two men behind him.
Kylar’s Ceuran blade was in his hand before the guards hit the ground, but before he could wade into battle, he felt the count’s fingers dig into his arms.
“No!” the count said.
Guards piled onto Logan, who roared.
“No,” the count said. “It is better …” his face was as pained as Logan’s, torn between sorrow and conviction. “It is better to suffer evil than to do evil. You will not kill innocent men in my house.”
Logan didn’t put up a fight. The men took him down to the ground, put the manacles on him behind his back, put a second set on his legs, and finally stood him up.
“Did the count say your name is Kylar? Kylar Stern?” Captain Arturian asked.
Kylar nodded.
“The crown charges you with treason, membership in the Sa’kagé, accepting payment for murder, and the murder of Prince Aleine Gunder. We have a witness, corpse, and motive, Count Drake. Men, arrest him.”
The captain might have been sympathetic, but he wasn’t a fool. Kylar had been so caught up in what was happening to Logan that he hadn’t noticed the men circle behind him. At the captain’s word, he felt two men take hold of his arms.
He swung his arms forward, only hoping to throw the men off balance so he could fall backward between them. But once again his Talent was there like a coiled viper, and he was suddenly stronger than he’d ever been. The men flew forward and crunched together, meeting along the blade of Kylar’s sword. If he’d turned the blade, he could have gutted either of them, even through their boiled leather gambesons. Instead, he sheathed the sword—how had he done it that fast?—he was still falling backward from throwing the guards harder than he intended, and the sword was already sheathed.
Turning his fall into a back handspring was child’s play. Kylar turned and ran toward a wall on one side of the count’s small garden. He jumped to grab the lip of the twelve-foot-high wall, and found the wall approaching instead at the level of his knees. It sent him over the wall in a vicious spin, and only by rolling into a ball and some significant luck was he able to land on the other side without killing himself.
He stood and let the Talent go. There were cries coming from within the walls, but they’d never catch him. Kylar was a wetboy now in truth. He wondered what Blint would say. Kylar had achieved his lifelong dream, and he couldn’t have been more miserable.
“How was it?” Agon asked Captain Arturian, as they walked through the halls of the castle toward the Maw.
“It was …awful. Absolutely awful, sir. I’d say it ranks with the worst things I’ve ever done.”
“Regrets, captain? They say he killed one of your men.”
“If I may be blunt, he rid me of a fool that I couldn’t kick out because the man’s sister is a baroness. The idiot had it coming. I know it’s not my place to say, lord general, but you didn’t see Logan’s face. He’s not guilty. I’d swear it.”
“I know. I know, and I’m going to do everything I can to save him.” They passed the guards who held the underground gate that separated the tunnels beneath the castle from those of the Maw. The nobles’ cells were on the first level. They were small, but in relative terms, luxurious. Agon had Elene placed in one of these cells, though her status didn’t afford it. He couldn’t bear to have her put any lower, and if the king asked, he’d say that he wanted her kept close for further questioning.
Agon stopped outside Logan’s cell. “Vin,” he said. “Does he know about his family yet?”
The squat man shook his head. “I’d already lost one man, sir. I didn’t know what he would do if we told him.”
“Fair enough. Thank you.” It wasn’t the dismissal Agon would have given to one of his subordinates, but though the lord general’s rank was the second only to the king’s, the captain of the king’s guards wasn’t technically under Agon’s command. Fortunately, though they weren’t friends, they were on good enough terms that Captain Arturian took the cue and excused himself.
It wasn’t going to be fun to tell a man who’d been jailed for a murder he didn’t commit that his family had been slaughtered, but it was Agon’s duty. He always did his duty.
Before he unlocked the door, Agon knocked as if he were coming for a visit. As if they were anywhere else besides the Maw. There was no response.
He opened the door. The nobles’ cells were ten feet square, all rock polished smooth to prevent suicides. Each had a bare rock bench that served as a bed, and fresh straw was brought in every week. It was luxury only compared to the rest of the Maw, and even with fresh straw, nothing could erase the rotten-egg stench or the ripe tang of massed humanity in an enclosed space that wafted up from the rest of the cells. Logan looked oblivious. He looked like hell. Tears streamed down his bruised face. He looked up when Agon came in, but his eyes took a long time to focus. He looked lost, his big shoulders slouched, big hands open on his lap, hair askew. He wasn’t alone. The queen was seated beside him, holding one of those limply open hands as one would hold a child’s.
Bless the woman. She’d come to tell him herself.
King Aleine IX had totally missed with Nalia Wesseros. Nalia could have been one of his greatest allies. What a queen she would have made for Regnus Gyre. Instead, she’d accepted being pushed to the fringes of Aleine’s Cenaria, even welcomed it, and had done everything she could to mother her four—now three—children. Agon had long suspected that the children were all that kept her alive.
“My queen. My lord,” Agon said.
“Pardon me if I don’t rise,” Logan said.
“None necessary.”
“They say that my father is dead, too. Or they say that he did it. That the king sent men to arrest him for killing my mother. What happened?” Logan asked.
“As far as I know, your father is alive. He arrived with only one or two men. He was attacked outside the city. Someone was trying to wipe out all the Gyres but you. Men were sent to arrest him, but not on the king’s orders. I haven’t found out who did give the orders. Not yet. Those men either fled the city, or they joined your father. I don’t know which.”
“Lord General, I didn’t kill Aleine,” Logan said. “He was my friend. Even if he did …what they say he did.”
“We know. We—the queen and I—don’t think you did it.”
“He talked to me last night, you know? He knew I was going to propose to Serah. He tried to persuade me not to. He reminded me of the rumors about Serah getting around. He had this crazy idea that I marry Jenine. I thought it
was strange, but that he was being magnanimous. It wasn’t magnanimity. It was guilt. Damn him!”
Logan looked at the queen. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk this way, but I’m so, so angry—and I feel so guilty for it at the same time! I would have forgiven them, Your Majesty. I would have. Gods! Why didn’t they just tell me?”
They cried silently together and the queen just squeezed Logan’s hand.
After a minute, Logan looked up at Agon. “They say Kylar did it. At Count Drake’s, I saw him move. He was fast. Too fast. But are you sure?”
Gods. The boy had just been betrayed by his fiancée and the prince. Now he wanted to know if he’d been betrayed by his best friend as well. Agon didn’t know if he would survive it—and he needed him to survive it—but Logan deserved the truth. It wasn’t in Agon to give him less. “I’m sure Kylar was upstairs when Aleine died. I’m sure he’s a wetboy. I doubt his real name is Kylar or that he’s a Stern, but I won’t know that for two weeks. We’ve sent a rider to their estates but it’s a week’s ride each way. I can’t put everything together in any other way, son, and I’ve been trying.”
“Your being here is a kindness,” Logan said. His back straightened. “And I don’t want to take that away from you, but I’m guessing that you want something from me or you wouldn’t both have come here. Not now. Not so soon.”
The queen and the lord general looked at each other. Something passed between them, and the general said, “You’re right, Logan. The truth is, the kingdom’s in peril. I wish that we could be sensitive to your grief. You know that your father is one of my dearest friends and what happened to your house is more than a tragedy. It’s a monstrosity.
