“I remember reading about this bridge in a book back at the Prism,” Marc said, shaking his head and ignoring Flasch’s irritability. “Just laughing at what you said about the price.”
“Yeah, and?”
“This bridge was so under-funded it was a miracle it ever reached completion,” Marc said. “The cooperation between elves and dwarves at the time was rather short-lived, and when it ended so did the funding. The architect and builders were determined to finish it, even though they hadn’t gotten past the design stage.
“They had originally envisioned something grand and magnificent and probably God-awfully gaudy,” Marc said, warming up to one of his favorite pastimes, “but that went out the door with the money. Instead, they designed the bridge along such simple principles that were really all they could afford, and the result is what you see before you. It’s so simple, so pure, it’s breathtaking.”
For some reason, that only made Flasch feel worse. He crossed the bridge in silence, ignoring the hushed conversations of his friends around him.
Behind him, one of the dwarven paladins was silently weeping as he drank in the sight of the bridge. Siran noted the tears and bowed respectfully to the dwarf before leading his men across. Most of the humans and denarae who crossed did so silently, as though they trod on holy ground.
- 3 -
Deeta watched Flasch with hard eyes as his gaze followed the new young girl about the camp. Deeta was conveniently concealed behind a wagon parked next to the camp fire she was tending, so the Violet paladin was unaware of her scrutiny. Brican and his wife Caeesha lay near to Flasch, but they were absorbed in a whispered conversation that apparently involved a lot of stifled laughter on Caeesha’s part.
The young girl walked by again, and still Flasch’s eyes absently followed her.
“What’s she got that I don’t?” Deeta muttered to herself. “What can she offer him that I can’t? Nothing. She’s not as pretty as I am. She won’t make him feel and respond like I can. She’s just a country bumpkin.”
Talking made her feel a little better about it, and she had almost managed to convince herself that the young girl Anolla – what a country name! – was no threat, when she glanced back at Flasch and saw him still staring after her with a confused sort of intensity on his face, as though he was trying to figure her out just by watching her. Then tears sprang to Deeta’s eyes and she went right back to down-talking the plain-faced woman.
“Her face is too masculine,” she muttered. “Her breasts are…” well, her breasts were perfect, as far as Deeta could tell… “they’re too small. Flasch likes larger breasts, like mine. She’s a simple country girl, and doesn’t know how to handle a good man like him.”
On and on she went, but no matter how long she went over it, always she ended up feeling a little worse and a little less secure than before. She looked into the night sky as though for inspiration, but saw only the full face of Sin, gleaming balefully on the camp. Deeta looked quickly away, discomfited by the presence of the Fright Moon overhead.
How do I keep him with me? she thought in desperation. I love him. How can I make him stay with me?
Deeta looked around the camp desperately, looking for some sort of inspiration. Her gaze fell on Alicia.
Without bothering to consider the ramifications of her actions, Deeta abruptly surged to her feet and walked with apparent confidence toward Flasch.
He’ll do the right thing, too, Deeta thought positively to herself. He’s a good man. He will.
When she reached Flasch’s side, Deeta knelt by Flasch and gazed up at him with smoldering eyes.
“Hey,” he said lightly, looking down at her. There was something missing from his eyes, something that made her heart ache.
“Flasch, I wasn’t going to tell you, what with the war and everything,” Deeta said, just loudly enough so that others could overhear her, “but I figure… well, with Alicia and all…”
Flasch frowned. “What’s wrong, Deeta?”
Deeta sucked in a breath, then sighed it out. A few feet away, Brican abruptly stiffened and whipped his head toward Flasch and Deeta.
“I’m pregnant, Flasch,” Deeta said finally.
Conversations around them abruptly slowed and silenced, and dozens of eyes turned toward Deeta and a stunned Flasch.
“You’re what?” he asked.
“Pregnant, my love,” she said. “You have a son on the way, or a daughter.”
Flasch was silent for a long moment. He glanced once toward Brican, and then he stared deeply into her eyes as though searching for something. Deeta put all of the sincerity and desire for him she could in her eyes, trying to convince him by sheer willpower.
“No,” Flasch said softly. “No you’re not, Deeta.”
She stared at him in shock.
“Wh… Yes I am, Flasch,” she protested. “I’m carrying your baby.”
Flasch shook his head. “No, my dear, you’re not, and you know it. You’re not pregnant, Deeta, and pretending otherwise is a horrible deceit to try and pass on me.” He glanced over her shoulder at Brican, who nodded sadly.
“But… but, Flasch, my love,” Deeta whimpered.
“No, not your love, Deeta,” Flasch said, shaking his head again, “and the mere fact that you would do this to me proves it. Maybe I was blind and didn’t see you could be this type of person, but I can see that person clearly now, and she’s not someone I could ever love.”
Tears spilled out from Deeta’s eyes, and she sobbed as she clutched for one of his hands and held it to her cheek. Flasch left it there for a moment, then firmly removed his hand. The Violet paladin was normally so bright and flippant, it was easy to forget he had a side that was grim and serious. Deeta was forcibly reminded as his fingers left her cheek.
“I’m sorry it happened like this, Deeta,” he said sincerely, “I really am, but you chose the time and place and forced this on me.” Flasch stood and turned to leave, then paused. “I think I’ve seen the best in you, Deeta, and it’s a wonderful sight, but the rest of you clouds it over and buries it so deeply I wonder if you even can see it yourself. I hope you learn to, Deeta, for your sake.”
And with that, he left her.
Deeta looked about her with tear-filled eyes, but she saw only hard, expressionless, denarae faces staring back at her. Caeesha watched her with pity, which only spurred Deeta to leap to her feet and rush off into the night in despair.
She avoided all the campfires and ran to where only the night held sway. Without the light from the fires, though, Deeta quickly stumbled on the uneven terrain and tumbled to the ground. She whimpered in pain as the soft skin of her hands split and chafed on the stony ground, and tears of pain joined the tears of anguish already streaming down her face.
“Don’t cry, pretty Deeta,” a gentle voice said, and Deeta glanced up to see an old man standing over her. She recognized Trames by the moonlight glinting off his head.
“Go away, Trames,” she sobbed. “Leave me alone, I’m an ugly person and nobody loves me.”
“Now that’s not true,” Trames said, calmly settling himself on the ground at her side. Without asking, he took out a handkerchief from a pouch at his side, wet it from his canteen, and quietly began wiping off her wounds. “After all, I love you, and I’m not nobody. I’m somebody.”
Deeta snorted at the tone of childlike simplicity in his voice, but the tears quickly regained control of her.
“That’s not what I mean, Trames,” she sobbed. “Flasch is gone now. I loved him, but he left me for a simple country girl who probably doesn’t even like him. He took better care of me than any other man I’ve ever known, and I’ve never been with someone as long as I was with him. He was such a good man!”
“Of course he is,” Trames said, still tending to her hands, “and that’s why you were attracted to him, and I know he was attracted to the good that’s in you. That’s how it works.”
“That’s what Flasch said,” Deeta sniffed, “but that
I covered it up. I don’t cover up my good parts! I was good to him, I made him feel good!”
Trames sighed, a gentle, patient sound that brought Deeta up short. Then he broke into one of his unique little sing-songs:
I cared what he, I cared what she
I cared all what you thought.
I found it strange, I’d tried to change
for all save whom I ought.
“My dear,” he said gently when he was finished, “do you know why flowers attract bees?” Deeta shook her head. “So they can breed. The bees carry pollen from flower to flower, making it possible for the flowers to spread their seeds. Other flowers attract birds, and still others attract types of bugs, all by different methods. They’re drawn to colors, scents, everything.
“Now, if you’re a flower that looks good to bugs, what do you think you’re going to attract?”
“Bugs,” Deeta answered, not understanding.
“And if you look or smell good to bees or birds, you’re going to attract bees or birds,” Trames said. Deeta nodded. “If you try to attract a man with only your body, you’re going to get men who are only interested in your body. You get what you attract.”
Deeta winced, thinking of most of the men she’d ever been with. “But Flasch wasn’t just interested in my body,” Deeta protested.
“Of course he wasn’t, but that’s all you ever presented to him,” Trames said gently. “Flasch may be a bit strange,” he said with a smile, “but at heart he is a good man, and the reason he’s good is because he’s true to himself and to those around him. He doesn’t pretend to be anything he’s not, except maybe a fool, so when you see Flasch, you actually see him. What do you see when you see yourself?”
Deeta stayed silent.
“True people will always seek true people,” Trames said, then he shrugged, “but then so do untrue people. It is the truth that everyone seeks, whether we know it or not. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen couples who were together for decades, and some who were together for mere days. A lot of those relationships ended because one person suddenly felt like they didn’t know the other, or like they’d been living a life that wasn’t their own, trying to be someone they weren’t for the sake of their partner. Some didn’t even realize they were doing it.
“You speak so ill of Anolla just for being who she is, but really I think you envy that,” Trames said. “It’s what untrue people most often despise about true people, what they just can’t understand. True beauty is the bounding of the deer, the circling of the hawk, the flickering of a fish. Beauty itself is being what you are, not covering it with shiny pretense. It is the art of truth,” he said and wiped his handkerchief on her cheek, removing a strip of makeup, “and this isn’t it.”
Somewhere during the old man’s talk, Deeta’s tears had dried up, and she stared at him with rapt attention.
“A true man, a true love,” he said, “will always be attracted to the truth in you, that beauty which has little to do with how you look.”
“What do I do?” she whispered. “What if I’m ugly inside, too?”
“I’ve never met anyone truly ugly inside,” Trames said with a wry twist to his mouth, “though I have no doubt they exist. As long as you can recognize beauty, I believe it still lies somewhere within you.”
Trames smiled a secret sort of smile, and his eyes gleamed.
“Come look here,” he said, and he pulled out a jar that smelled strongly of honey. He lifted the lid and peered inside, whispering softly as though talking to something inside. Then he leaned his head back and motioned for her to look inside. “Please.”
Deeta looked into the jar and, for a moment, saw nothing at all.
“What…”
“Just look, you’ll see her,” Trames said confidently.
Deeta peered intently into the jar, and suddenly she saw something moving within. At first she could just make out what looked like a tiny person with wings, then the body was lit by a dull orange light that steadily grew brighter and brighter until a golden glow spilled out from the honey pot like a lighthouse beacon.
“It’s beautiful,” Deeta said, her voice catching.
“She’s a fire faerie,” Trames said, “and not just anybody can see them, unless one shows herself or you know how to look for them. They’re very, very rare. She has such a very bright light, but you have to look just right to be able to see it. It’s usually hidden by her surroundings.”
“How can she hide such a glow?” Deeta asked in awe.
“Even the empty air is thick enough to hide in, if you know how,” Trames said with a shrug.
The glowing creature flew out of the jar and landed on Deeta’s arm, then danced her way down to a quickly extended hand. The fire faerie leapt and spun on her palm as though she had an invisible partner, and Deeta’s face lit up with marvelous joy.
“Do you want to keep her?” Trames asked, extending the jar.
Deeta hesitated, then shook her head. As the tiny faerie finished her dance, she bowed politely to Deeta and lifted off into the air. She flew away and was quickly lost among the wildlife in the night.
“Something that beautiful should be free,” Deeta whispered in awe.
“Yes, yes it should,” Trames agreed. “It’s wonderful to see the beauty in something else, isn’t it?”
Deeta nodded wordlessly. Trames stood quietly, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, then wandered off toward the camp.
As she sat staring off after the vanished faerie, Deeta heard Trames exclaim, “Aha! Now I have an empty pot again. How useful.”
Interlude
The first step in avoiding a trap is knowing of its existence. And yet, if you knew the future, would you not be trapped by that knowledge? How then does this paradox speak to divine planning and will?
- Orange Paladin Oneth de’Weiden,
“A Question of Fate” (967 AM)
- 1 -
“The Binding,” Mikal said, pointing ahead needlessly.
While the expedition fanned out behind them and began divesting themselves of gear, the leaders stopped and just stared.
While the Merging was an invisible barrier between two empty plains, the Binding was a shimmering sliver of resplendent light trapped between the narrow walls of a massive cleft in the mountain. Walls of sheer stone sloped down on either side, leaving a gap large enough to ride two full-grown dakkan runners through side-by-side. The curtain of light was a dozen yards or so back from the mouth of the cleft.
A feeling of peace and serene holiness emanated from the narrow divide, leaving no doubt that beyond that light, Heaven awaited them.
“It’s only this visible because it’s dusk,” Mikal said. “At any other time of day or night, it cannot be seen save at a particular angle.”
“Hard to get an angle on that thing looking down such a narrow passage,” Hoil commented.
“I think that’s the point, brother,” Birch said. “It looks like the cleft is a dead-end beyond the Binding, so there would be little reason for anyone to venture inside.”
“No wonder it’s so well hidden,” Marc said, staring in awe at the light.
Garnet took in an eye-full of the Binding, then turned his mind to more pressing matters.
“Now that we’ve found it, we dare not delay long before crossing,” he said briskly. “Much as I’d love to give us all a full night’s sleep before crossing over, I can’t in good conscience delay it any longer. Dad,” he said, turning to look behind him, “you’ve selected the jintaal to carry back word?”
Garet nodded.
“Then everyone grab a quick meal and start preparing your belongings for the crossing or the journey home,” he said with a significant glance at his sister and brother, who were trying to remain inconspicuous next to a wagon. “I want everyone who’s crossing ready to move in two hours. If you have any goodbyes to say, I suggest you say them before then.”
“Two hours, Garnet?” Marc protested. He didn’t quite glance at Janice
, who stood with Alicia, Caeesha, Moreen, and a few of the other women from Shadow Company. “Isn’t that a little abrupt?”
“If there’s a company of angels somewhere getting slaughtered and we could get to them, do you want to explain to God why we weren’t there in time?” Garnet asked pointedly.
Marc’s jaw snapped shut. “I hate it when he makes sense,” he muttered beneath his breath to no one.
Trames nonchalantly sidled past Garnet’s view, but the Red paladin pointed a finger at him and shook his head.
“You’re not coming, Trames,” Garnet said, and Marc thought he detected a hint of regret in Garnet’s face. The old man opened his mouth to reply, but Garnet shook his head. Kala appeared and stood next to Trames, her face neutral.
“I don’t pretend to know everything about you two or why you were coming here,” Garnet said, “but I do know that where we’re going is no place for you, Trames, and while Kala could no doubt handle herself, your care is her charge, and she stays with you.”
“We understand, Garnet,” Kala answered softly. Trames opened his mouth yet again to say something, but quieted at her hand on his shoulder.
Trames sighed. Marc peered closely at the old man’s face. He wasn’t disappointed, he was… sad. Mournful even. He had to know this decision was coming, right? Marc thought. He’s taking it awfully hard.
The pair walked away, Kala hugging Trames’s shoulders in support. Garnet stared after them a moment, then glanced down at his feet. The Shadow Company commander looked up and caught Marc’s eye, then squared his shoulders and walked off without another word.
- 2 -
Perklet walked into the firelight where Nuse and James were enjoying their final meal with the expedition. Both men had been selected as part of the jintaal to carry word back to the Prism that the Binding had been found, and would then lead the rest of the paladin forces back to the crossing point to Heaven. Perklet would miss them, with Nuse’s dry wit and James’s steady presence, but theirs was an important mission, and he still had Garet and Birch for companionship.
Satan's Gambit (The Barrier War Book 3) Page 22
