"Any news?" she said.
Armor shook his head.
The five of them sat. Waited.
After a time, the door opened again. Armor expected Devar to enter, but it was the Chancellor. The man was so big it was a wonder he could even fit through the door, but somehow he squeezed his massive bulk through and joined them near the slate where they planned missions.
Missions with Sword.
Gods, let us plan them with her again. Or take me if needs be, but give her back.
The Chancellor was silent a long time. Armor ached to speak, to question the man. To ask what he knew and where they might go to recover their friend. Only his sense of discipline and decorum kept it from happening.
"I suppose you know by the fact that I myself am here how important this is," said the Chancellor.
They all nodded. Teeth said, "Where's Devar?"
Armor saw traces of irritation in the Chancellor's expression. "He is with several Eyes, looking around the kingdom and trying to find Sword."
Armor's shoulders slumped. "Then we haven't found her."
The Chancellor shook his head. "Not yet, no. But we will." He leaned back in his chair. Looked at the ceiling. "There are matters of greater import, however."
"Greater import?" The words came out through gasps as Garden forced herself to speak. Armor couldn't tell if she was trying not to cry or to scream – and couldn't tell which would be worse. The Chancellor wouldn't take either well. "What matters more than Sword being stolen away?"
Surprisingly, the Chancellor didn't seem to notice Garden's impertinent tone. "Two things," he said. "First is that there truly are people of great power – as great as you, it would seem," he said, nodding at them all. "And they appear to have the Empire's downfall in their sights."
"What?" said Scholar. "What evidences are there in support of this conclusion? Or is it mere conjecture?"
The Chancellor shook his head. "You mean, other than the fact that you – the Emperor Malal's most trusted servants – were attacked? We've had reports for some weeks of people who have been siphoning moneys to groups that have aligned themselves against the Empire."
"We already knew about groups like that," said Siren. "We've taken out plenty of them."
"Yes, but the evidences now point to a common link. A small group that is coordinating all of them, and it seems they have as their end goal nothing less than the complete overthrow of the Empire." The Chancellor let that sink in for a moment.
Armor could hear the others muttering to themselves. He did not mutter. He knew it was possible, even likely. Any government would have enemies, and sooner or later those enemies would grow to a point that they banded together to attempt a coup. It had happened before – that was how Malal's family had been murdered.
It was simply Armor's turn to defend the Empire he loved against this enemy. It had always been likely, if not inevitable.
"That brings me to the second thing I want to talk to you about," said the Chancellor. The mutterings ceased as all eyes went to him. "You know that your friend has been taken, and that's tragic. It truly is. But we – the Emperor himself, as well as I – need you to understand that she has been taken by people of power. People of resource. People of persuasion."
Silence. Teeth finally said, "I don't get it."
Armor spoke. "He means that if – when – we find her, Sword may not be one of us anymore." He looked hard at the Chancellor, who nodded minutely. "He means that we may have to kill her."
The Chancellor nodded. This time the nod was not a subtle thing, meant only for Armor. It was a broad motion – a movement that said, Yes, that is it, that is true, that is what must be done and what you must do.
No one spoke.
Eventually the Chancellor broke the silence. He moved to the table and unrolled several maps and showed them several locations where he thought it might be possible to find Sword – or to kill her.
Armor listened with only half his attention.
The other half was involved in a harsh debate.
Sword, a traitor?
No. She couldn't be.
But what if she is?
And does it even matter?
That last was powerful. And disheartening. Armor thought of himself as, above all, a man of honor. When he had been active in the Army there were many officers who had wives at home and mistresses in the camps that sprung up like infestations outside every base. Armor never indulged in such pastimes – was never even tempted to do so. He loved his wife, but even had she grown into a nagging harpy, he would never have cheated on her. He had sworn an oath to be faithful, to honor her through all his Turns, to give her – and only her – his soul and his body and his mind.
Just like he had given the Emperor and the Empire his oath. An oath of faithful obedience. An oath that did not allow for questions of what ifs and but maybe you're wrongs.
But what if they are wrong?
He found himself back in his room, found himself calling for Erlong again, found himself calling out to the one person he trusted always to lead him aright.
But when Erlong came, when he connected with the Ear stationed at Kataya's house… he didn't know what he could say. Not just because he didn't have the words, but because it was all secret.
What were you going to do, Armor? Tell your wife that one of the Empire's top assassins may have defected to a rebel cause?
"What is it, love?" said Kataya. Or Erlong. But the Ear was so good. It sounded so like the inflections Armor's wife used.
Or maybe he just missed her.
Maybe it's time to stop working this way. Maybe it's time to go back to the regular Army.
But that would never happen, he knew. There was no retirement for a Blessed One. It was simply service or death.
"Are you there?" asked Kataya.
"Yes, love," he answered. "I'm sorry. I'm just… preoccupied."
"Can I help?"
"You always do. Just by being there."
They were silent. Then he said, "The Emperor asks a difficult thing."
"But you'll do it." It wasn't a question.
"Aye," he said. "But it's a hard thing. Maybe the hardest."
"Why?"
"Because…."
Because I don't believe it. Because it seems wrong.
He said none of those things. Instead he said, "Because I don't understand it."
"Well, then," she said, and even through two Ears he could hear her bright voice, tinkling over the many miles between them with a power greater than that of any Ear, "it's obvious what you should do."
He laughed ruefully. "Perhaps to you, love. I'm just a soldier, and not so very good at thinking such things out."
She laughed, too. In this thing Erlong utterly failed to capture the sound. Kataya's laugh was lovely: low and long and infectious. Armor had noticed her for her beauty, he had loved her for her goodness, but he was entranced by her laugh.
"If you are given an order, and you must obey, but you don't understand it – then it's obvious you should look for the reason until you do understand it."
And given in such terms, the answer to his problem was obvious.
He would look for answers. He would seek understanding. He had taken an oath to serve the Empire, to obey the Emperor. And he would do both. But nowhere in his oath did it say that he must do so blindly, without any attempt to understand what he was doing.
He laughed ruefully. "What did I do to deserve you?" he said.
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Do you mind…?"
She knew what he was asking without him having to finish. She always did. Even though they spent much time apart, she always knew what he wanted. Better, what he needed.
"Go," she said. "Find your answers."
2
There was someone waiting on the air-car when Sword and the others returned. "So you left the air-car and Father Akiro behind?" said Brother Scieran.
It was an old man with a long gray braid down
his back and who was also dressed as a Priest of Faith – though not a member of the Order of Chain. Instead, he wore the outfit of one of the Temple Faithful: a silver-edged robe, but with an added trim of gold above it, and a brass Temple chain around his waist.
He walked with the aid of two canes whose heads were brass and shaped like wolves. Now he waved one of the canes at Brother Scieran's words, as though his fellow disciple were a well-meaning but somewhat irritating child.
"Scieran," said the old man, "you insist on treating everyone like an infant sometimes."
"Just you," said Brother Scieran. "And it's 'idiot,' not 'infant.'"
The old man sighed. He turned to Sword and bowed to her, a rickety bow that made her feel like she should rush forward to keep him from falling over. "I'm so sorry, child, that you had to put up with this old fool. He was always my dullest student."
"Who are you calling old?" demanded Brother Scieran.
Arrow, Wind, and Cloud just moved onto the air-car. The door was closed and the vehicle took to the sky. Arrow disappeared into the forward cabin where he must have been waiting during the trip down to Vritof; perhaps piloting the ship.
He hates me.
She was surprised how much that fact bothered her.
"Do you mind sitting down, my dear?"
It took a moment to realize she was being spoken to. But when she came to herself the old man – Father Akiro – was looking at her. "It's easier when you're sitting."
"What's easier?" she asked.
He looked at Brother Scieran. "So you haven't told her?"
"I haven't had a chance," harrumphed Brother Scieran.
The old man sighed. "Well, first things first," he said. "I am Father Akiro."
"Sword," she said. Somewhat marveling at how quickly she had shed the rule that she not tell her name; that it exist as a rumor and byword to inflict fear into the Emperor's enemies.
But am I one of them now? One of the Empire's enemies myself?
She didn't know.
"I am very pleased to meet you, Sword," said Father Akiro. "I take it from what my most stupid of all students, Brother Scieran –" (Brother Scieran huffed mightily and looked like he was going to object but Father Akiro shook a cane at him and he quieted) "– has told you that you know who we are."
"You're criminals," she said.
"Not just criminals," he said. He looked at Brother Scieran. "Really. Why did I bother spending all those years on you?" Brother Scieran growled and fingered his sickle, but didn't speak. "We are rebels. The royal family was overthrown over a decade ago."
Sword shook her head. "No, there was an assassination. But the Emperor was saved, the Chancellor took over as regent until –"
"That is almost as stupid as he is," said Father Akiro, gesturing at Brother Scieran. "It was not an assassination, it was a coup. The Chancellor – who was the Minister of Secrets, in charge of the secret police before the coup – killed the Emperor, his wife, and possibly their daughter. "
"Possibly?"
"We think she may have escaped, though we aren't sure. And it's academic for the present, since the current problem is that the Chancellor is really the one in charge."
"Only for a little while longer," said Sword. "Then the Emperor ascends to full power."
Father Akiro smiled. "If you really believe that, then you're stupider than he is," he said, gesturing at Brother Scieran. The other priest just closed his eyes and either went to sleep or did an excellent job pretending to do so. "Malal will either be killed before his ascension – allowing the Chancellor to assume the throne in name as well as in power – or he'll rule as a puppet. Either way, the Chancellor is the true power, and his plans must be stopped."
Sword thought of what she had seen of the Chancellor and Malal. The affection Malal obviously had for his regent. How could that exist in such bad men as Father Akiro claimed?
But then, how could such evil as she had seen in Vritof exist under a wise, good ruler.
(It. Can't.)
It can't.
IT CAN'T.
The small voice broke into a scream. A shout that she knew proclaimed truth. But she didn't know what she could do with it.
Father Akiro was guiding her to the seat he had indicated before. "Now, young Sword, I have to do something. It won't hurt, but it requires that you trust me."
"What is it?"
"Do you know what a Reach is?"
She shook her head.
"It is a rare Gift," he said. "Not quite at the level of a Blessed – or Cursed – One, but a bit more than a Patch or a Thread. Simply put, if I touch your head with my hands, I can see your thoughts."
Sword shied away from him automatically. Her thoughts? The idea of it was so intrusive that her hands dropped to the hilts of her weapons. Even as a Dog, even when her body had been for sale and put to pain for the enjoyment of others – even then, her thoughts had been her own.
Father Akiro held out his hands. Palms up, placating. "I ask for your permission to do this," he said. "But I hope you will give it."
"Why?" she asked. Meaning a wealth of things: Why ask my permission? Why hope I give it? Why do this at all?
Father Akiro nodded to the sky outside the air-car. "Because we go now to the place where the Cursed Ones hide. To one of the places where they seek to overthrow – or at least inconvenience – a corrupt government. And you cannot go there if you will betray us."
Sword realized that Wind and Cloud had taken up positions on opposite sides of the air-car. Both facing her in silence, both tense.
Can I take them both out?
Do I want to?
She let herself be led to the chair.
Father Akiro lay his hands on her head. A strange feeling came over her. She remembered the rushing rage that had consumed her when given the vision of the sacking of Nasius – the false vision of Creed's destruction of the innocents. This was the polar opposite. It brought not a feeling of agitation, no sensation of noise. Rather it was as though her life slowed down. A calm gripped her, a feeling of well-being.
She realized she had closed her eyes. Not because she had been asked to do so, but because she trusted that none would do her harm. Not here.
These people… they were good.
What of the others? What of Armor, of Garden? What of Scholar and Teeth and Siren? Of Marionette and Devar?
She felt certain that Armor and Garden were good. That the three Blessed Ones she had met thereafter were likely also good.
Marionette was mad – of that there was no doubt.
And Devar?
She remembered him rescuing her from the kennels. Talking to her like she was a real person; like she mattered. Teaching her day after day, the ins and outs of what it was to be a Blessed One, shouting "Good question!" in a way that made her heart stutter.
Holding her in the air-car after she killed Creed. After she saw Marionette kill the man's little boy.
(Killing Eva. Shouting at her to kill the children.)
Devar… she didn't know if he was good or not. She hoped so.
The feeling of peace withdrew. Slowly, slowly, but she sensed it. She wanted to cry out. To follow it to whatever part of her mind it fled to. But then it was gone and she opened her eyes and there was Father Akiro, smiling at her.
"She will not betray us," he said. "She doesn't know it herself yet – not completely – but she is one of us. Well and truly, she is one of us."
Then his gaze changed. Something grew – what? Sad? Confused? Frightened? All three? – within him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Sword." The answer came quickly. It was the only name she had, and – now that she had been pulled away from her purpose as a Blessed One – was the only thing she could think to say.
"Ah, but that is only your name. And a name is only shorthand for the list of things done by us and done to us." He looked at her, and she felt like he was still Reaching inside her mind, though he had dropped his hands from her
head. "What you have done of late we know. Even your time as a Dog I saw."
She felt her cheeks burn. All the things she had done to survive, the lives taken to live herself.
Was I right in that?
What else could I have done?
Is it a sin to act in a way when no other way is known?
Is it wrong to be the only way you have learned?
Father Akiro touched her shoulder lightly. "You did what you did out of ignorance," he said. "What's past is past, and cannot be changed." He dropped his hand. "But something in your past…. I sense it will reach into your present, and change the flow of your future." He pursed his lips, and his eyes went to a place faraway. "I wonder…." The words were not meant for her, she thought, nor anyone else.
Then he snapped back to the here and now. He smiled. "You are who you are," he said. And laughed lightly. "Though I suppose that's nonsense that could be said of any of us. Still," he said, and grew serious again. "Who you are… who you are is special."
And something shivered through her. She felt elated, she felt heavy. She felt new as when she had first received her name. Old as the last day in the kennel.
She was Sword. And Sword, as Father Akiro said, was the sum of all she had done.
But what had she done?
What was buried in her past that gave him pause?
And what would reach into her future to change her life?
3
The one thing that was absolutely sacrosanct, the one rule that could not be broken, was this: an Ear could never betray his confidence.
Many Ears couldn't even contemplate the possibility. They entered a trance when their ability was invoked, and when they came out of it they had no memories of the conversations that had gone on. They were simply devices during that period, no more capable of remembering what words they had heard and spoken than a hammer was capable of remembering what nails it had driven into what wood.
Sometimes, though, an Ear was blessed – or cursed – with the ability to remember what he did. Ears with this ability would inevitably tell someone a juicy detail.
And somehow that information would always make its way back to the Guild of Hearing. A visit would be paid. Nothing too painful – a few broken fingers, maybe a cracked leg in an extremely serious circumstance. But it would also be made clear that the second visit would be considerably more fatal.
The Sword Chronicles: Child of the Empire Page 17
