=Wash the Dobra away.
Exchanging incorrect words was nothing new when dealing with Isabelle, so he found it second nature to always follow up.
“The Dobra?”
=Dobra. Group. City. People. Many. Too many.
Entirely bereft of clothing, Isabelle splashed in the stream. Looking back to Luca’s averted eyes, she laughed again.
=All naked under clothes.
Luca could not argue with her any more than he could fully deter his eyes.
Chapter 25
Blotmonad 21, 567
Carmichael’s trap was clever, but Marta slipped the noose. Even after a hard life replete with Carmichael’s cruelties, that night’s revelation of her father’s death and her brother’s assumption of the Cildra elder mantle still found a way to shock her. That alone would have been enough, but Caddie now hovered at the edge of death due to Carmichael, and it took all of Marta’s will too keep her rage in check. Given the opportunity, she would drill a hole in her brother’s skull to let all his cleverness drip out, his Whispered edict against harming him be damned.
They traversed the Theade River only at night. Back before the train lines shortened the length of Newfield, the river provided the best trade route connecting Gatlin to Ceilminster then on through Meskon and into Lacus. But since the speedy trains, the steady stream of flat-bottomed riverboats dried out by the day. There still existed enough vessels to force them to row against the current under the cover of darkness. It was not the first boat they came across that night that they appropriated, nor even the second, but eventually they found one large enough to accommodate the four of them south to Ceilminster.
After Carmichael’s trap, Marta could not be sure if she would ever willingly set foot in the city. Perhaps her brother really wanted her to assassinate Caddie’s Tinker father, but it was more likely he intended for Marta to only deliver the girl, as instructed in her father’s false message. Why else go to such a surreptitious path unless he expected her to balk at his overt mission?
But her brother aiding the rebellious Covenant Sons after he set the entire Cildra clan to heel as agents of the Newfield state made no sense.
No matter how she attempted to ascertain it, his reasoning confounded her. But this was nothing new. Carmichael always could cogitate circles around her, as could both her parents. Their Blessed abilities reflected their gifts to the Mind, all three either Listeners or Whisperers, while she was left with the physicality of the Body’s added Breath. Even her unblessed sister would do a better job unraveling their brother’s intent. True, the girl initially was just a means for Marta and Carmichael both, but after what his agents did to Caddie, surely at his direct behest, Marta considered ditching all pretense of his plot and just disappearing forever.
It would certainly be satisfying to frustrate her brother’s machinations by fully extricating herself from them, but Marta still chewed upon the lip of her pipe. Unable to unravel her brother’s duplicity wrapped inside a lie, she had decided to follow his initial instruction and execute Hendrix to save Newfield a second civil war. At the time, she made this decision despite knowing the damage Caddie would surely endure to save thousands of lives. Such a forfeit made sense in her head, but her heart now hated her for the cynical decision. It was something worthy of her brother or father; of any in the Cildra clan she was now free from, and Marta did not want their enduring mentality still deciding her actions.
***
Riding away from her former home for the last time on the stolen horse, Marta knew something was amiss when she reined up beside her haversack. Luca and Isabelle would have hidden at the sound of approach, yet Isabelle awaited her alone in the dead center of the clearing.
“Isabelle?” The woman did not even lift her head, and Marta kept all her plans for Armor at the ready as she dismounted.
“Where’s Luca? Caddie? Where are they? Where did they go?” Even her hiss seemed too loud, but Isabelle’s hazel eyes scarcely settled on Marta before returning to the ground.
“Point. Just point where they went!”
Receiving no response, she shook the woman for all she was worth. Her own anger increasing, she expected the same response from Isabelle, but the girl barely remained upright.
“Is she safe?!”
Isabelle’s face twitched, exposing her twisted tooth, and Marta hoped for something more. But then Isabelle turned away, her face going slack as Caddie’s. Seeing the woman withdraw within her head, Marta feared Caddie’s combat fugue had become contagious. Something had clearly crushed the irrepressible Isabelle, and Marta feared any adversary capable of that.
Marta desperately searched her mind for the unnatural knowledge of the girl’s direction that aided her when the glassman took Caddie. But it would not come, Marta chasing after it down the alleys in her mind to no avail. Desperation stealing her strength, she considered riding wildly on the off chance of stumbling upon the girl when Isabelle inhaled sharply.
She was sure she could not be surprised further that night, but Marta’s skin tingled upon seeing the glow emanating underneath Isabelle’s clothes. Fearing it might startle Isabelle, Marta resisted summoning her Armor, but Isabelle ignored Marta as she tugged at a leather cord tied around her neck. The glow came from a locket at the cord’s end. Its meaning confounded Marta, but Isabelle’s fingers tightened into a fist around it, Marta sure she would tear it from its loop.
Her hand finally relaxing, Isabelle stumbled upright, her eyes passing over Marta as they aimed northeast. Her gait followed her gaze, Isabelle staggering away. Collecting her haversack, Marta followed on horseback, making no effort to hide her presence as Isabelle traced the road traveling parallel of the Vandiver Line of ley. Marta was unsure if Isabelle led them true, but her desperation kept her on the path as her horse trudged behind the girl.
Their trek taking far too long, Marta offered Isabelle her hand. Isabelle took it without looking, allowing Marta to heft her up. Without so much as a glance around, Isabelle pointed, and Marta dug in her heels. They rode in silence punctuated only by Isabelle’s sighs. Each one sounded utterly resigned, and Marta still wondered what possibly could have done this to her companion when Luca appeared on the road.
Marta hardly recognized his silhouette before she was off the horse and running. The outline of the body slung over his shoulder jolted her to action, Marta skidding to stop beside him. He must not have recognized her since he drew his lockblade. Ignoring it, Marta hefted Caddie from his shoulders to examine the unconscious girl by the light of her cold torch. Despite her first gentle then insistent taps to the face, Caddie remained unresponsive.
“What happened?”
Luca said nothing, and she repeated herself, again receiving no answer. Looking up, Marta found his eyes locked with Isabelle’s.
“Ekesh.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “The Home Guard, they were waiting for us. Soon as you left, they struck. Caddie, they… they… I did all I could…”
His fight to reclaim the girl must have been grisly indeed to shake his usually inhuman resolve to such a degree. Both of her comrades looked like they had seen a gast, but Marta did not care as her gentle nudges transformed into harsher slaps.
“Why ekesh? What threat was she to them?”
“I don’t know,” Luca answered. “But it’s not safe here anymore. They… they shattered Graff’s glass in the fight. He’s free.”
***
They found their boat that night to make their escape, hiding it along the riverbank during the daylight. The ekesh should have worked its way out of her system by nightfall, yet the girl remained comatose. Marta demanded the same herbs Isabelle roused her with in Point Place, and when the bundle did not appear, she demanded answers from Luca. He only shook his head, stating the girl was too young and frail to withstand the poison that came with the herb’s gift. Marta could sense the truth to Luca’s words, the man unusually taciturn as his companion. Both carried the continence of beaten dogs, and Marta shared th
eir defeat down to her very Soul. Only her worry kept her upright at Caddie’s side during the day. By the time they launched their stolen craft at dusk and the girl still had not stirred, Marta’s worry deepened into dread.
Without anything but the girl’s distress to distract her, Marta’s mind continued on the same eternal loop. The goal Carmichael had set for her neared by every stroke of the oars, but she still had no answer to her quandary. To walk away from Carmichael and his mission might still damn Newfield to a second civil war as Hendrix designed new war machines for the Covenant Sons. If she did not put an end to Hendrix, thousands upon thousands would lose their lives. She might hate her brother, but untold needless deaths due to her inaction might be more than she could bear.
Marta had no illusions she would survive her assassination attempt, and that realization did not distress her. She cared little for her own life, her continued survival due to habit more than any actual affection. Upon considering it further, her only fear would be that her sacrifice would be in vain if Caddie did not survive.
After hours upon hours of endlessly chasing after the thought, Marta finally decided to give up on any conclusion as to what to do with Orthoel Hendrix. When she encountered the man, she would deliver him his daughter, look him in the eye, then determine his fate. In so doing, she would neither be disobeying Carmichael’s order nor obeying her dead father’s sham mission. Instead, she would enact her own desire for the first time throughout the whole ordeal. Although no friend to hope, she prayed that upon seeing the man reunited with his child, the girl would find peace, even if it might spark a second civil war. Caddie mattered more than any untold thousands of faceless victims, and so Marta swore to see her home.
It would hurt, giving up the girl, but she knew it to be the right decision. Her father’s letter explicitly stated “families belong together,” and though that message proved false, that did not make the sentiment behind it any less true.
All Marta required now was assurance the girl would survive, and for that, she needed to depend on the two freebooters under her brother’s employment. Luca at least showed devotion to Caddie, risking his life for her after the Home Guard poisoned her with ekesh. Though both appeared beaten, Luca and Isabelle were capable, and Marta suspected them more than sufficient to the task of keeping the girl safe.
But she would never know for sure, and that thought kept her gnawing at her pipe.
Nestled beside Caddie, Marta watched Luca and Isabelle swap turns rowing them upstream to Ceilminster. She did not speak until they made another silent exchange, the words escaping her mouth before she was fully aware they were there.
“It was my brother, Carmichael Childress, who hired you, though you probably know him as Philo Frost. He commands the Home Guard and the Department of Public Safety, them and worse besides. The whole of Newfield bows to his whims. Did you know that?” The sweating Luca did not bother looking to his mute companion before nodding. “He paid you to make sure I get Caddie to Ceilminster. Once there, I’m not sure what I’m to do. But that doesn’t matter to you, does it? You’re just supposed to get me there?”
She received the barest of nods from Luca.
“That means he doesn’t care what you two do next. So once your contract’s finished, I want to hire you. The job’s simple—no matter what, you keep Caddie safe, no matter what you see once I deliver her. All that comes next, it don’t matter anymore. Your job is her alone, keeping her safe long as you can. Even if that means leaving her at a convalescent home, you do what’s best for the girl.”
She said it with all the authority her upbringing afforded her, but it rang false to her ears. She could not command these freebooters, so Marta hunkered down so she was eye to eye with Luca. “I come from an evil crop—my family. Each harvest yields a darker fruit that just rots the world. And you two, you’re caught up in it. I can’t escape it, but maybe you can. You and Caddie.”
Hauling Carmichael’s wad of banknotes out of the hidden pocket in her haversack, Marta pressed them to him. “It’s not nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I got. I just want her to be safe, and I want to know you’ll be the one to do it. Can you… will you do that?”
The block of cash was not insignificant, yet Luca hesitated. Marta feared she had underestimated the man’s morality until he finally spoke.
“Of course. You needn’t ask, and I wish I didn’t need to answer.” He seemed abashed, his hands open, but not reaching for the cash. Setting it into his hand then placing hers to his shoulder, Marta’s words failed her. Though it felt strange upon her face, she realized she was smiling.
Luca did not reflect the gesture, his face screwed up as if sucking on something sour. Upon seeing her stare, he attempted the same expression, but looked pale. Having suffered from seasickness on the voyage to the Auld Lands, Marta offered the best relief she knew:
“Need to spit over the side?”
Luca attempted a laugh, but it died in his throat. He tried again, only for his gullet to click. She tried to ease him over the gunwale to heave, but he resisted, his eyes unable to meet hers despite several timid attempts. Finally, he succeeded, and Marta saw unfamiliar regret.
“You don’t know what you ask. For that, you need to know me.” He caught her hand and clutched it. “I never worked for your brother any more than I worked as a freebooter. I’ve been a Dobra, marrow true, even when they would have killed me on the spot. Even then I served my mistress. Even when she cast me out, I was hers, so when she called me back, I came willingly. I even… Marta, I… I even brought her Caddie. There was no Home Guard that night. I was the one who fed her the ekesh.”
Luca expected some reaction from Marta at his admission, but the woman went still. “She… she wanted unclean things for Caddie, and Marta, I couldn’t. I took her because I didn’t know. I couldn’t have, or I wouldn’t have gone. She’s the world to me now, Caddie is. You have to believe me that she is. You have to believe me, because I gave up the world to save her.”
Marta calmly regarded him, but he found her stillness unsettling. It was not unusual for her to cut off from his Listening Mind, but something in her dead stare evaded his recognition. She was not lashing out, at least, and for that, he was thankful.
“Marta, I don’t… you trusted me with the world in Caddie, and I realize that. That’s why I had to tell you everything. And I know I’m telling you to trust me because I betrayed you from the beginning, and I know that makes no sense. But you must. I will do anything I can to do right by the girl, by you. It’s the only way I can save my Soul from being stained. Please, Marta, understand how sorry I am. I do not deserve your trust, and I want to show you that so you will understand how you can trust me again. I have nothing now, nothing but my life, which I will gladly give to keep Caddie safe. Do you believe me?”
“I do.”
She said the words without emotion, but her roiling rage hit his Mind harder than the physical blow. Her Armored fist landed flush on the chin, snapping his head sideways and spinning his body around. The gunwale caught him, knocking out the remainder of his breath. Fighting back against unconsciousness, he turned to behold the monstrous Marta.
“You will give your life for her now.”
Enveloped in her inhuman Armor, Marta hardly appeared human. Not even the legendary first Shaper, Emil, could blanket his whole body in his stretched Breath, yet her construct covered every inch. Only her eyes remained visible, Marta’s gaze her most inhuman feature.
“Draw your lockblade.”
Luca could not tell if the world reeled due to the blow or Isabelle leaping forward with her black stone knife. He felt her horror at Marta’s appearance though, and the decision to intercede on his behalf despite the wrongs he plied against her. He wanted to yell and demand she allow him to face his fate, but his breath betrayed him.
Marta’s Breath obeyed her upon Isabelle’s attack though. She had dissected ghuls before his eyes with that very knife, but the weapon did nothing to Mart
a’s unnatural Armor. Isabelle might have well been trying to chip away at a mountain as Marta casually backhanded his companion over the side. Thoughts still scattered, he wondered if she could swim. Isabelle was innocent of his treachery, and he desperately needed to make that case when he turned back to the creature beside him.
“I said draw your blade.”
He sputtered for air, finally choking out, “No.”
Her next blow was only an offhand gesture, but she hit like a train. Crumpling into the prow, Luca barely had time to look up before she landed on top of him. On reflex, his hand reached for the salvation contained in his pocket, but he caught himself.
He would not resist. He was due this death.
Marta refused to give it to him, her Armored hand tearing his pocket as she pried his weapon free. Popping the blade, she shoved the hilt to him. Hands clenching shut, he refused.
“I can force you.” Her voice was so hollow it hurt to hear.
“No, you can’t. I won’t fight you.”
He thought she might respond, but then Marta hoisting him aloft by the neck. Luca distantly realized she held him this way before when they first met, though that time the strength he felt paled in comparison to the raw power pulsing around his throat now. It was a stupid thing to think, but he gurgled a laugh at the recognition she had been right about him then, too. He deserved this death since the beginning.
“No.”
Serenely said, Luca thought the statement came from underneath Marta’s Armor. But the woman seemed surprised as she turned. Summoning the last of his strength, Luca looked to Caddie reclining in the back of the boat. The girl showed no more emotion than Marta did, but seeing her awake, Luca knew he could die a happy man.
“He deserves this,” Marta spat. “He betrayed you.”
“No,” the girl calmly said again. “We don’t kill kin.”
Hidden beneath her exuded Breath, Luca could not see Marta’s reaction any more than he could pluck her Mind, but her Armor’s shoulders slumped. He wanted to cry out, to egg her on in ending him, but his voice would not respond. He need not have worried, as Marta turned back, her claws grasping.
The Imbued Lockblade (Sol's Harvest Book 2) Page 26
