A man steps in front of Gabriel, beads of water dotting his dark skin.
“David, by your testament of faith in Herus, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit, buried in the manner of his death—” Gabriel lays David down in the water, then pulls him upright, “—and raised in the manner of his glorious resurrection.”
Cheers resound over the crowd. Asher applauds politely, still unsure what is going on. Gabriel baptizes three others this way. Finally, he calls Alesia in front of him.
Gabriel lays a hand on her shoulder. “Lastly, Alesia. There has been nothing easy about your past, but you believe that your faith secures your future.”
“Yes, I do,” she says with confidence. She glances up at Asher. He immediately thinks of Maven.
“Then I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit, buried in the manner of his death—” he dips her in similar manner in the water “—and raised in the manner of his glorious resurrection.” Quieting the immediate cheer, Gabriel goes on, “Are we all in favour of accepting these five new believers into our flock?”
The crowd explodes in cheers. Asher grins, applauding. Though he doesn’t understand the excitement, he enjoys the warmth of the gathering and cheers. It really feels like a big family.
Those in the stream step out, dripping wet. Priscilla wraps a rough towel around Alesia’s shoulders and pulls her into her arms.
“Well done,” Asher says to Alesia, unsure of what else to say.
She blots her face with the towel. Her black hair sticks around her cheeks in long strands. “Thank you. I’m so glad you were here.”
Others approach to congratulate and embrace her. Asher suddenly feels out-of-place. Moments ago it was like a big family, but now it’s as if he, an outsider, stepped in on a close family reunion.
Nevertheless, he gives her and Priscilla a smile. “Perhaps you two could fill me in on what has been going on since we left.”
“And you could tell me where my father is,” Alesia says, seriously. “I need to talk to him about—” she glances down, “—some things.”
For some reason, the thought of Evelyn and Caius caring for Alesia in Esterden prickles anger. Why should Caius get everything? Evelyn and Alesia all at once? He knows it’s stupid to think this way. Evelyn is in love with him, and Alesia is his blood.
As they make their way back to Tarreth, Asher explains the events of the past week. Retelling it all takes most of the journey. The rest is occupied with events in Tarreth. There have been rumours of war and publications in the Diamond, but no official announcements yet.
When Priscilla carefully shares the news of Maven’s execution, it halts all other topics. The rest of the walk is very quiet. Asher lays his hand on Alesia’s shoulder, but says nothing. He knows nothing could make it all better.
Once they’ve arrived at the Sanctuary, most of the crowd disperses. Some remain for morning worship; some head home.
“If you don’t mind, could I have something to eat?” Asher wonders. “It’s been a meagre week.”
Priscilla eyes him, then Alesia. “My dear, will you go upstairs and change into your new dress? It’s on your bed.”
Alesia glances between them. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to interrupt the important conversation you’re about to have.” With a mischievous roll of her eyes, she leaves them.
“What is it?” Asher wonders.
Priscilla peers around at the gathering crowd. “Come with me,” she says. She turns into a hallway.
Asher follows her. “What, Priscilla? You’re worrying me.”
She finally stops. “Look around.”
Asher does so. They are in a large, square room with counters and a fireplace. A wide window opens into a dining room across from him. “The kitchen?”
“Look closer.”
He tries. He spots a single loaf of bread on the counter, behind a stack of empty dishes. “Is this your very laborious way of telling me you need to make a trip to the market?”
“No, Asher.” Priscilla steps past him and shuts the door. “With the war and other things, Sanctuary funds are tight. I’ve been instructed not to feed or house any more outsiders until I’ve paid back the charge.”
“What charge?”
She shuts her eyes as if gathering strength. “Chancellor Meeves has charged the Sanctuary an astronomical amount for housing Maven.”
Asher lets out his breath, backing onto a seat. “Oh.”
“I’ve found a position as a servant in a family’s home in Tarreth. I worked there three days this week. I should have the charge paid in a few years.”
“Years?” Asher bolts to his feet, outraged. “But the Sanctuary cannot function without housing people. It helped us all in so many ways by being just that—a sanctuary. I’ll speak with Chancellor Meeves myself. My father is the treasurer.”
Priscilla reaches for his arm. “Please don’t. I made the mistake. It is my duty to rectify it.”
“We brought Maven into your lives. Where is Alesia staying if you cannot house anyone?”
“She has her few possessions here, still. I’ve spoken to Gabriel about her becoming a minister and living on the premises. He approved it, as long as she contributes. So she’s taken a servant’s position in another house. She waits on a young lady.”
Asher runs his hand back through his hair. “Gods.”
“It’s all right. She enjoys it.”
“And you alone must pay for this charge?”
Priscilla drops her eyes. “I did house her.”
“For a few hours. Gods, do your people have no mercy?”
“Shh. Asher, they’ll hear you.”
Asher steps toward the door. “I want them to hear. This is outrageous.”
Priscilla yanks him back. “You don’t think that housing a murderer is a crime? You think I am innocent and undeserving of punishment? Asher, look at me.”
He crosses his arms. “I think you shouldn’t have to pay it all by yourself. Do members of your worship service not give any to your cause?”
“They do, but that pays for our housing. These aren’t wealthy people.”
“I am, and so is my family. I’ll make a donation. All of it will go to your charge.”
“No. If my fellow ministers do not see me paying off my dues, they will shun me forever. This is my only redemption.”
Asher lets out a great sigh, flopping into the chair again. “It isn’t fair to you.”
She takes the seat next to him. “I would think that you, fine Lockmire general, would see all of this as justice being served.”
Asher laughs once without humour. “Can a man not have his own mind? Being a servant is thankless work. My mother employs servants, and she is very good to them, but what they do is not easy.”
“Being a minister of Herus is being a servant. I am not afraid of hard work.”
He leans over on his knees. “There must be a way to help.”
“Don’t concern yourself with it, I beg you. I must confess that I only told you because there are few I can confide in, and the burden weighs rather heavy.”
“You have no friends here?”
Priscilla’s shoulders slump. “I did… My close friend, Anna, has hardly spoken to me since the incident. The blame has fallen on Gabriel, her husband, so she cannot look at me the same way. I understand.”
“I thought serving Herus was about helping people,” says Asher. “I thought it was a religion of peace and faith, not anger or resentment. Your people should see the unbelievable good you did. The selflessness of it.”
“They see it more as an act of cowardice. After all, Maven arrived by covering my mouth and ordering me to silence. I was not strong enough to order her to leave. I was a coward.”
“But you weren’t afraid, were you?” Asher asks slowly, watching her eyes.
After a long moment, Priscilla shakes her head. “No. I was not afraid of Maven. I should have been. She was a murderer. But I was more afraid of what w
ould happen if she were found out.”
“And the worst happened,” Asher concludes.
She nods, solemn. “Yes.”
Asher leans toward her. “Tell me there is something I can do. Something that would help.”
She touches his arm. “Focus on the coming war. Fight with the rest of the soldiers. Kill those disgusting bandits and bring back your friends. Restore Lockmire to its rightful people.”
Asher lays a hand over hers on his arm. “I meant, something that would help you.”
She shuts her eyes, then meets his again. “That will help me.”
Asher’s eyes flicker to her lips once. He sits back. His face feels hot.
“I should go,” Priscilla says. “And you need to speak with Captain Bertrand, I’m sure.”
“Yes.” Asher rises. “I’ll stay with my parents. If you need me, the couriers in the city know where Lionel Xerxes lives. That’s my father.”
Priscilla nods. “Of course. Farewell, Asher.”
Asher bumps into the counter on his way out. Before he leaves, he gets out a clumsy, “Farewell.”
Chapter 28
Caged
Two guards flank Evelyn on her walk to the dining room. She has not gone anywhere these last four weeks without guards. Neither has Caius. Lord Krassis decided that they both needed a probationary period before they could be employed. It’s all been rather suffocating.
Evelyn takes a seat near the head of the table. It’s strange to sit here. She feels like royalty.
Goldie enters the opposite end of the room. She appears calm, almost bored. She takes a seat across the table and folds her hands. Despite the physical nearness, there seems to be a impenetrable wall between them.
“It’s been a long month,” Evelyn says first. “I thought you’d fled the region.”
“I had things to take care of,” replies Goldie evenly.
“Meeting with your only remaining child was obviously low priority.”
Goldie narrows her eyes. “If this meeting is just going to be an execution, I have other things to do.”
Evelyn drops her eyes to the table. “Did you know?”
“Did I know what?”
She meets her eyes again. “Did you know Jacklyn and I were captured?”
Goldie straightens her shoulders. “Do you want me to be truthful with you, Evelyn?”
Evelyn pierces her palm with a fingernail at the sound of her mother saying her name. “Yes. As honest as you can be.”
“I orchestrated the burning of our village.”
Evelyn blinks at her. “What?”
“The entire place hated us—you, me, your sister—because Lon wasn’t your father. They knew our marital problems, and I became the outsider. Some shops would not even sell to me. I despised every one of them. So, I made a deal with the bandits. I would work for them if they burned down the village. I fully planned to escape with you and your sister, but things got out of hand. I didn’t know Caius when he stepped in. I suppose he wasn’t told that our cottage was supposed to stay standing.”
“They’re bandits,” Evelyn says dryly. “They burn everything.”
“And yet, I see you two sneaking around the castle halls for moments to talk when your guards switch shifts. You think you’re being so careful, but I’ve seen you. Over by the kitchens. Near that storage area by the stairs. Chattering at dinnertime.”
Evelyn opens her hand against the table, trying to gain stability from the rough wood surface. “What are you trying to prove?”
Goldie lifts an eyebrow. “That you have no right to act haughty. We are the same.”
“How so?”
Goldie’s lip curls into a malicious smirk. “We both like bandits.”
“Caius is not a bandit,” Evelyn says firmly.
“Oh? And how would you define a bandit?”
“A bandit is someone who tortures and kills innocent people.” Evelyn can feel her face getting hot. “A bandit is a brute with no beating heart. They show no remorse and have no respect or dignity. They’re immoral. They’re animals. I think I should know.” Evelyn presses a finger down onto the table. “Those men that you give your willing energy and efforts were the same ones who assaulted me, your own blood. They’re the ones who killed Jacklyn.”
Goldie’s eyes narrow. “You’re not remembering that correctly.”
“Oh no?” Evelyn pulls up the sleeves of her dress, pushes down the neckline, revealing the patterns of various scars. “Look at me!”
Goldie is silent a moment, blue eyes trailing up and down Evelyn’s arms. But her expression does not break. “Things may have, at times, gotten out of hand.”
“Why?” Evelyn croaks, eyes filling with tears. “Why did you let them do this to me? Why did you let them hurt me?”
Goldie lowers her brows solemnly. “I did what I could to stop it. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Evelyn’s eyes widen. Her breath comes like a shiver. “What are you?” she hisses. “What made you like this?”
Goldie looks away. “Are we finished yet?”
“No! I still have so many questions.”
Goldie rises at once, sliding her chair back noisily. “I don’t think you’ll find those answers from me.”
“What about my father?” Evelyn shouts at her as she walks out. “Who was he? Why did you make a deal for the bandits to burn down the village instead of just leaving? Why did the village hate us?”
The guards take her arms on either sides, lifting her from her seat.
“Why didn’t I ever know you were alive? Did you make some agreement with them? Why didn’t you get us out? Why didn’t you help us?”
She trembles with anger. With white-hot hatred. With heart-wrenching sadness. She’s waited weeks to see her mother. At first, she longed to be close to her last remaining family. She wanted to ask about relatives, about her childhood, about her life before the village burned. She wanted answers to fill in the blank spots in her memories. Then, as the meeting was pushed ahead and the waiting grew unbearable, she became frustrated. And now, she wants Goldie to pay dearly for the monster she is. She is no longer a mother. She is no longer human. She is a selfish, heartless beast.
Evelyn has no weapon on her. She wishes she had something. Something to throw or smash. Something to release this unbearable rage. She claws the stone wall on her way back to her room. Once she’s locked again in that small chamber, she stands still, waiting for the rage to end. Trying to find the calmness to pray. But she does not want to pray. She does not want Herus’ presence. She wants revenge.
Evelyn hoists the chair from her desk and smashes it against the ground. The leg cracks on impact. Pinpoints of pain dart across her fingertips. She picks up the chair again, throwing it at the wall. It tears down the painting of the frozen Pond. She knew Jacklyn and I were there. She knew, and she did nothing.
Another part of her just wants to give it up. She heaves the chair one last time and slams it down. This time, she stumbles into one of the legs. The wood scrapes her face. Her knees knock against the stone floor.
Crying softly, Evelyn pushes herself back onto her feet just as the door opens. A guard steps in. His confused eyes flit from the broken chair to the smashed painting to Evelyn in the middle of it.
“What are you doing in here?”
Evelyn wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, trying to formulate words through her tears.
The guard wrenches her by the arm. “Come on,” he says.
“Where—” Evelyn begins, but does not continue. The thought of returning to Goldie terrifies her, yet she wants to return to her, as if all the answers can be known by just being near her.
But she does not return to Goldie. The guard drags her silently through the castle to Ilvara’s study and raps on the door.
“Come in,” calls Ilvara. She rises from her desk, visibly stiffening when Evelyn walks in.
“She just finished her meeting with Goldie,” says the guard. “And I found he
r tearing apart her room.”
Ilvara approaches, wrapping an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders. “Thank you. You may go.”
Evelyn crumples, weeping onto Ilvara’s shoulder. “It was dreadful, Mama. She planned it all. She planned the village burning down. She knew Jacklyn and I were captured and treated with no mercy. She orchestrated all of it.”
“Try to relax, Evelyn. I spoke with Andrew about relocating her to Munsweed, but he’s worried Tarreth might attack, so he wants everyone here.”
Evelyn pulls away. “Stop calling him that.”
“What?”
“Stop calling him by his name.”
“Evelyn…”
Evelyn lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “I can’t have you calling him by his first name. He is the biggest obstacle for us.”
“I know,” Ilvara says, sighing. “But I do care somewhat for him. He’s surprisingly kind and gentle.”
Evelyn has noticed that, too. “But that cannot dissuade us,” she says sternly. “We need to focus on our goal.”
“Getting back to Lockmire,” Ilvara says. Her tone sounds weary, exhausted.
Evelyn furrows her brows. “You sound as though you do not want to return home.”
“You must admit that it is all rather hopeless.” Ilvara seats her on the chair behind the desk. “If Tarreth does decide to go to war, they may not survive. From the plans I’ve seen, the bandits are strong and numerous. Unless Tarreth has been accumulating troops under the table, they won’t survive it.”
“We just need to kill the leaders. When they die, the rats will scatter.”
“The bandits are far too passionate. Added to that, we have the dragons.”
“’We?’” Evelyn steps back from her. “A few weeks here, and you already side with Esterden?”
Ilvara shakes her head. “No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Mama, you did not see inside our walls. Buildings were destroyed. People killed. Our army is scattered, fled to the holds and to Tarreth. We are still strong, but we need help, not betrayal.”
“I’m not betraying Lockmire.” Ilvara spreads her arms. “But look around. We’re here, alive and protected. You and Caius are both safe. Soon, you’ll be working for me exclusively. All will be well again.”
Of Embers Page 25
