The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  “What do they do with the fish if they catch it?” Raek asked.

  “Once they have proven a catch and shown off its size, they release the fish in gratitude,” explained Vorish.

  “Makes sense,” said Ard. “It would probably be exhausting to swim around all night while holding a slippery fish.”

  “In many places, the water is shallow enough that we can stand,” Geppel said for Vorish. “Especially near the Ucru at the islet’s center.”

  “What is the Ucru?” Quarrah asked, already exhausted by the effort of keeping all these foreign words straight.

  “It is a building designated for Agrodite worship,” explained Geppel.

  “What’s it like?” asked Quarrah.

  “It is constructed in the shape of a large dome,” she answered. “Its base is sealed well, so the sand inside stays forever dry, even during the drowning of the Ennoth. A priestess is chosen to remain within the Ucru during the Passing. Bemdep is soaked in Stoshk and the root smolders inside the dome. The priestess sits in the haze, staring through the Moon Glass until her mind is awakened with a vision from the gods.”

  “So the shards of Moon Glass are kept in one of these Ucrus?” Ard confirmed.

  Geppel repeated the question. “There are only three pieces of Agrodite Moon Glass. One is held in the Ucru on Ra Ennoth. The other is kept in the Ucru on Mei Ennoth. The third piece moves between locations, safeguarded by the Shoka priestess.”

  “Does that have a translation?” Raek asked.

  “Of the tides,” answered Geppel.

  “What does this tidal priestess do?” Quarrah asked.

  Vorish explained as Geppel translated. “She splits her time equally between the Ennoth on Ra Skal, and the one on Mei Skal. She also visits the Trothians who are living on the Greater Chain to assure that the Agrodite teachings are remaining pure and uninfluenced. During the war, she was charged with military command over Trothian troops in council with our Sovereign allies.”

  Ard stood up abruptly, as if the excitement about what he’d just heard had propelled him out of his seat.

  “Does this Shoka priestess happen to be called Lyndel?” Ard asked.

  Vorish nodded. “Her name gained some renown during the war,” translated Geppel. “But Lyndel is among the most devout of our Agrodite priestesses.”

  Quarrah and Ard shared a glance. Obviously, Lyndel’s people had never heard about her research with Isle Halavend. Quarrah doubted she’d be referred to as devout if the Agrodites knew she’d consorted with a Holy Isle.

  “We knew her before the war,” Ard admitted. “And you’re telling me that Lyndel carries a piece of the Moon Glass with her wherever she travels?”

  “Not exactly,” Geppel said for Vorish. “But she does determine which Ennoth will receive it during the Passing. In such a case, two priestesses are selected to remain in the Ucru overnight.”

  “This makes so much sense,” Ard muttered. “If she was the tidal priestess, it explains why Lyndel was in Beripent when she met Halavend. It explains how she could give Isless Malla a piece of Moon Glass without raising questions.”

  “And it explains why she was in such a position of power during the war,” Quarrah said, remembering how Lyndel had led an unprecedented capture of the Archkingdom’s harbors on Pekal.

  “Where is Lyndel now?” Ard asked Vorish.

  “When I left Ra Ennoth three days ago,” translated Geppel, “she was there, planning to stay for the Moon Passing at the end of the cycle.”

  “Then that’s where we need to go,” Ard said with far too much enthusiasm.

  “Wait a minute,” Quarrah looked at him. “Don’t we want to avoid her? If I remember right, things didn’t exactly end on a high note between you and Lyndel.”

  Going back on his promises, Ard had not let Lyndel use young Shad Agaul as a bargaining chip to stop the naval conflict against the Trothians outside the Pekal harbor. Quarrah vividly remembered the flat look of cold anger on the priestess’s face and the words she had spoken.

  “You have made an enemy of me this day, Ardor Benn.”

  Ard waved his hand. “That was nothing. Time heals old conflicts. Aren’t you and I living proof of that?”

  Quarrah didn’t know how to take that. There had certainly been plenty of conflicts between the two of them, but were they truly healed? He obviously thought so, and the idea made her resent him a little more.

  “So you just plan on taking a friendly walk along the beach with your old pal Lyndel?” Raek asked Ard.

  “Seems like the perfect distraction to get her away from the Ucru so Quarrah can slip in and grab one of the pieces of Moon Glass.” Ard’s voice was backed with full confidence in her ability.

  “But if both of the Ucrus already have a piece,” Quarrah said, “then why bother with Lyndel at all?”

  “Her presence on the Ennoth assures us that there’ll be two pieces of Moon Glass lying around,” explained Ard. “Raek can check my math, but I’d say that doubles our chances of swiping one.”

  “And Lyndel really doesn’t worry you?” Quarrah checked.

  “On the contrary,” said Ard. “I’m counting on Lyndel to allow us to come ashore. Have you ever sailed up to one of the Trothian islets unannounced?”

  Most things Quarrah did were unannounced, but not this. She’d never stepped foot on the sandy shore of an islet. From what she’d heard, Landers weren’t typically well received.

  “Ard and I gave that a try once. Before the war,” Raek jumped in. “We’d been caught in some cross fire leaving Dronodan, and the Floret was taking water like a sieve.”

  “Technically, I don’t think you can call it cross fire if it was intended for us,” Ard interrupted.

  “Unimportant,” Raek brushed him off. “The point is, we were bailing with buckets in our teeth, limping our little boat across the waves toward the closest land, which just happened to be a Trothian islet. The minute we’re in range, they send a warning shot over the prow.”

  “Never mind that we’d even thought to run up a white flag,” Ard added.

  “Your undershirt was gray, at best,” Raek said to his partner. “Anyway, we have no choice but to lean into the rudder and make for Pass Harbor on Strind, knowing there’s no way we’ll reach it in time.”

  The two men shared a glance full of nostalgia, and then Ard spoke. “That’s why we’ll be counting on Lyndel to let us in.”

  “Hold on.” Geppel raised a hand. “What happened in your story? Did you make it to Pass Harbor?”

  Deep inside, Quarrah was interested, too, but she’d spent enough time with these two to know not to egg them on. Geppel’s curiosity played right into their egos.

  “We had a basket of fresh-caught fish,” Ard started. “We put it on the sinking prow and took off the lid. Within ten minutes, a genuine flock of seagulls had gathered.”

  “I threw a net over the birds and lashed the ends to the bowsprit,” continued Raek. “Those blazing seagulls kept us afloat and towed our ship all the way to Strind.”

  There was a moment of sincere contemplation among the women in the room, and then Quarrah called the story what it obviously was. “Dragon slag. What really happened?”

  “Our ship sank and we were left treading water until some Homeland-sent cargo vessel pulled us aboard,” answered Ard.

  Raek reached over and smacked him with the back of his broad hand. “I thought we had an image to maintain. You have changed.” He sighed melodramatically. “Anyway, the point of the story wasn’t to explain our escape. It was to prove that we can’t just sail up to the Trothian islets uninvited.”

  “We have Lyndel!” Ard exclaimed as if he’d been repeating the same logical phrase all afternoon.

  “Who considers you an enemy,” Quarrah reminded.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” said Ard. “And maybe that’s as good a place to start as any.” He turned to Geppel. “Can you get a message to Lyndel on Ra Ennoth?”

  She and Vo
rish conversed for a few seconds before Geppel answered. “Vorish’s family returns home from their vacation in two days. She has agreed to share a message with the Shoka.”

  “Good,” Ard said. “Tell Lyndel that Ardor Benn will be coming to see her.”

  “Would you like to tell her the reason?” asked Geppel.

  Raek screwed up his face. “That we’d like to steal the Moon Glass?”

  Geppel shot him a flat stare, then turned back to Ard. “Something that might convince her to allow you ashore?”

  Ard took a deep breath and Quarrah saw a number of ideas flicker across his face. “Tell her that I wish to apologize.”

  Quarrah leaned in as if she’d misunderstood him. Did Ardor Benn say apologize? Without an official letter? Quarrah had been on the rare receiving end of profuse apologies from Ard—sorry for excluding her, sorry for not hearing her, sorry for a dozen other things. But the words always sounded brittle falling from his mouth.

  Ard turned to Geppel and Vorish. “If you don’t have any questions about my message, then that’ll be all.”

  The two women stood, taking their cup and bowl with them as they exited the Be’Igoth.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to go over there wishing to apologize?” Quarrah asked when Ard turned around. “Won’t Lyndel get suspicious when you don’t?”

  “Who says I won’t?” Ard replied. “I’m not sorry for getting Shad Agaul home, but I do feel bad for the way things ended between Lyndel and me. I’ll apologize for what I can and let her decide how much she wants to forgive me. Meanwhile, you’ll be creeping your way into the Ucru to swipe a piece of Moon Glass. Would you prefer darkness or daylight?”

  “Daylight,” Quarrah said. “We’re talking about sneaking past a village full of Trothians.” Darkness would provide her no advantage against their superior vision.

  “While you two do your thing, I’ll keep the sails rigged and ready on the Double Take,” Raek said. “I’m hoping we don’t need a speedy getaway, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready.”

  “Speaking of being ready,” said Ard, “where are we with Lavfa’s other requests?”

  “I’ve got the Void and Barrier Grit divided into secure kegs,” reported Raek. “And the black leather backpack was an easy purchase in the Char.”

  “And the bricks?” Ard asked Quarrah.

  She pulled back her head. “Why are you looking at me?”

  “We need four bricks from the Royal Concert Hall,” Ard said, like it was self-explanatory. “I just assumed. Raek gets the Grit and the backpack, you get the bricks, and I get the Moon Glass.”

  She tilted her head. “Now, who gets the Moon Glass?”

  “Well, technically, you do,” said Ard. “I just meant that I was running point on that part since it was the most complex.”

  “And you don’t think I can do complex?”

  Ard held up his hands. “I’m sorry.” See, there it was. How much weight did that word carry for him? “I’ll get the bricks.”

  “Because you think I can’t?” she retorted. “I know the Royal Concert Hall better than either of you. The southeast corner is the most worn. A cloud of Silence Grit, a pinch of Void, and I should be able to separate four of the bricks without any trouble. I’ll get them tonight.”

  A subtle grin tugged at the corner of Ard’s mouth, and Quarrah wondered if she’d just played right into his hands. Before she could grow any more upset about it, Raek changed the course of the conversation.

  “I don’t feel like we really explored any alternatives to Baroness Lavfa’s demands,” he said.

  “She didn’t leave a lot of wiggle room,” said Ard. “And Hedge made it clear that he wouldn’t give us the documents we need until Lavfa’s property is secured.”

  “I know,” said Raek. “But what about a forgery? Are we breaking our necks trying to fill her backpack, when it would be just as easy to present her with a regular shard of red stained glass?”

  “How would we forge something like that?” Quarrah thought back to that day in Lyndel’s Beripent apartment, surrounded by papers and writings from the recently murdered Isle Halavend. “Looking through the Moon Glass was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.”

  “We know that,” continued Raek. “The three of us have seen a real piece, but it’s unlikely that Lavfa has.”

  “I agree that the baroness might not recognize a forgery,” said Ard, “but getting the glass to Lavfa is only the first step in our job for Hedge. It wouldn’t be hard for her to check the authenticity of the glass with a Trothian who actually knows. Then we show up on her doorstep with a dragon and she doesn’t let us in?” He shook his head. “It’s too risky. Better to do the job right.”

  “But what’s the purpose behind this?” Quarrah asked, catching a smile from Ard. That was usually his line. “I mean, I’ve worked for plenty of people who accept goods instead of Ashings.” She justified her curiosity. “But Lavfa’s request is… unusual.”

  “Seems to me like she’s planning on framing someone,” Raek said. “I mean, it would look really incriminating if the Regulators were to apprehend someone wearing that backpack.”

  There was a pregnant pause in the room, and then Ard seemed to realize that Quarrah and Raek were staring at him. “Me?” he cried with incredulity. “You think she wants to frame me? Why?”

  “Maybe she’s among the many who don’t agree with your reformed character,” Raek said. “After all, she didn’t name her price until after you pushed me out the window.”

  “That was supposed to gain her trust,” Ard said. “To show her that I couldn’t tolerate anyone plotting to abuse her good name.”

  “But what if it had the opposite effect?” Quarrah said. “Maybe Lavfa lost trust when she saw you—a supposed Holy Isle—reverting back to your criminal ways.”

  “First of all,” Ard rebutted, “I’m not a supposed Holy Isle. I’m the genuine article. And I don’t think Lavfa has anything so devious in mind. You both heard her on the catamaran. She’s an absolute shark when it comes to business deals. And she couldn’t stop bragging about her vast assortment of rare trinkets and baubles. I think she’s just using us to expand her collection.”

  That had been Quarrah’s first thought, too. Moon Glass made sense. Even the bricks from the Royal Concert Hall. But the twenty panweights of easily accessible Grit? And why specify the type of backpack to carry it in? Something definitely felt off about this whole thing—starting with Hedge Marsool’s mysterious summons to the Be’Igoth.

  “Now I guess we just sit back and wait to hear if Lyndel returns our message.” Raek kicked out his feet in a relaxed stance.

  “We only have a week until the Moon Passing,” Ard said. “If we wait until next cycle, Lyndel could move and we won’t know where she’ll be. I say we ready the Double Take to sail to Ra Skal in three days. That’ll put us just a day behind Vorish’s message.”

  “And what if Lyndel’s answer is, ‘Don’t bother coming. Apology not accepted. I hate you’?” said Raek.

  “Then we claim that the message must have been garbled in translation,” said Ard.

  Raek nodded in approval, but Quarrah stared at the cavalier pair. “Is no one else worried that the success of this job rests on Ard’s ability to apologize?”

  More than anything, I’m writing this to clear my conscience. To acknowledge my vast shortcomings and misbehaviors.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Ard peered through his spyglass at the line of Trothians waiting on the sandy islet beach. By now, their unique eyes certainly would have seen their flag, the fabric shredded into more than a dozen long strips that whipped in the wind. At the stern, Quarrah leaned on the rudder, keeping the Double Take’s nose aimed at their destination.

  Raek swung down from the yardarm, the sail securely battened. But instead of dropping onto the rowing bench to take them the rest of the way, he began preparing the anchor.

  “What are you doing?” Ard asked.


  “This is how we have to make the approach,” Raek said. “Macer’s book says that every Lander vessel, regardless of size or crew compliment, must drop anchor no less than a half mile from shore. It’s a safety precaution for the ships as much as anything, since the sand tapering away from the islets tends to shift and change with the movement of the waves.”

  Ard thought of the strange bed of the InterIsland Waters. The five big islands of the Greater Chain stood like stone columns, the depth of the sea plunging several miles straight down at their shores. Only the harbors had measurable depth, pocked into the rocky cliff sides.

  Apparently the Trothian islets didn’t share the same kind of abrupt drop-off beneath the water. Their clustered skals had foundations like great sandbars that would, if the InterIsland Waters were somehow drained away, act as sandy land bridges between the large Lander islands.

  Ever since their discovery of an ancient civilization on the seabed, Ard had tried to picture the world as it had once been—without so much water. When the gods had used their powers to heap up towers for humankind’s escape, it must have been a mighty ring of earth, with the forested peaks of Pekal freestanding at its center. Far below, the ancient Trothians would have been ringed in on all sides, seething for vengeance for hundreds of years before managing to rise to the surface.

  Ard leaned overboard to watch as the anchor pulled down its rope. “I suppose Macer expects us to swim the rest of the way?”

  “He says the Trothians will send a raft if they agree on a meeting,” said Raek.

  “Well, I think we could get a little closer,” Ard remarked. “The Double Take’s not going to run aground.”

  “Don’t question Macer,” said Raek. “He literally wrote the book on approaching the Trothian islets. Every good sailor has a well-worn copy.”

  “Where was yours when we sank the Floret after the Denfar ruse?” Ard asked.

  “It was on my ‘to read’ list,” answered Raek, tying off the slack on the anchor rope. “I finally got around to it. Yesterday. I’ll admit, it had some great tips. Did you know running up a dirty white undershirt on the mast is considered an act of war?”