The First Betrayal

by Patricia Bray

  To Josan’s eyes, each iron gate set in the low stone wall appeared identical to its neighbors, but Myles must have been here frequently since he stopped at the sixth gate and lifted the bar. No one challenged them as they made their way along the stone path to a plain wooden door.

  Myles tugged on the rope that hung from a hole next to the door, and they heard the faint sound of a ringing bell. After a moment the top half of the door swung open, revealing a youth dressed in the sleeveless tunic of a common servant.

  “I have business with the steward,” Myles said.

  The boy looked at them dubiously.

  “Go. Fetch him,” Myles barked.

  The boy jumped and hastily swung the top half of the door shut.

  This time the wait was longer, and Josan wondered what they would do if Myles’s friend was no longer a servant there. He had enough coins left for lodgings down by the wharf if it came to that, and Myles still had coins in his purse, along with the imperial scrip.

  This time the entire door swung open. The man who stood there was middle-aged, his spotless livery girded with the belt of his office, his round cheeks and pale skin giving evidence of a comfortable life. He did not seem the type who would call Myles friend, and Josan braced himself to be turned away.

  “I am the Sergeant and this is a friend of ours,” Myles said. As he spoke, his right hand flashed a series of complicated gestures.

  The steward’s eye flickered once to Josan, then returned to Myles. “Of course. If you would follow me,” he said, with a subtle inclination of his head.

  These were not the mannerisms of two old friends greeting one another. On the contrary, coded phrases and recognition signals were the hallmarks of criminals or conspirators.

  Myles started through the door, but Josan caught his arm. “What is going on?” he hissed.

  “You have trusted me this far,” Myles replied. “Trust me a little longer, and I will explain everything.”

  Josan’s gaze searched his face, but found nothing in it except concern, and he realized that he was acting foolishly. He would stake his life that Myles did not intend to harm him. Myles was entitled to a few secrets of his own, and if he trusted these people, then Josan would give them the benefit of the doubt. For the time being.

  The steward led them up through the kitchens, then up the stairs that led from the servants quarters into the public spaces of the mansion. Pausing outside a paneled door, he knocked once, then opened the door.

  “Magistrate Renato, your guests have arrived,” he announced. He bowed, then gestured for the two men to precede him into the room.

  Josan started as the doors swung shut behind them.

  Magistrate Renato rose from his seat behind his desk and advanced to greet them. A tall man, whose shoulders were stooped from age, his face broke into a broad smile.

  “Sergeant, I remember you. You had no trouble getting here?”

  “We were not followed,” Myles said.

  Josan tugged back the cowl of his cloak, revealing his features, watching closely as Magistrate Renato’s eyes widened in shock.

  “And this is—” the magistrate began.

  “This is a friend of ours, who calls himself Josan,” Myles interrupted.

  “This is a great honor for me,” Renato continued smoothly, though Josan had no doubt that he had originally intended to say something else. “You are both welcome in my home.”

  “How do you know each other?” Josan asked.

  “We met in difficult times, when the sergeant was kind enough to do me a favor. I promised I was at his service if ever he had need of a favor in return,” Renato said.

  It was an explanation of sorts. Difficult times could refer to anything from a petty brawl in the marketplace to the bloody uprising six years past. Whatever service Myles had done for Renato, it had obviously impressed the magistrate enough that he remembered him.

  Renato’s initial shock had given way to satisfaction. He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips as his gaze flickered from Josan to Myles and back again. There was something in the way that Renato’s eyes swept over every detail of their appearance that made Josan feel as if he were on display. Renato did not have the air of a man repaying a favor, but rather the air of a man whose long hunger was about to be satisfied.

  Perhaps the relationship between Myles and Renato had been one of an intimate nature, and what he was seeing was simple lust. That could also explain why Renato was so interested in him, seeing Josan as a potential rival for Myles’s affections.

  Though a mere physical relationship would not explain why Myles had been given code words that gained him entry to this house, long after he had left Karystos. Josan’s unease grew as he remembered his suspicions that Myles had been more than the mere soldier he claimed to be.

  “You must be tired from your long journey. Let me summon servants to take you to rooms where you may refresh yourselves. You will join me for the evening meal, and we can talk about how I may best help you.”

  Renato looked at Josan as he spoke, so after a long moment he replied, “Thank you.”

  A bell instantly summoned the steward, who must have been waiting outside in the corridor while they talked. He led them to a large room that adjoined an ample bathing chamber. After so many weeks of travel, when bathing had been a rag dampened in a basin, Josan and Myles took turns scraping the dust of the road from their bodies, then soaking in the warm bath.

  When Josan returned to the sleep chamber, he found a linen tunic and cotton trousers laid out for him. From the fineness of the silk bands that adorned the tunic he guessed the clothing had once been part of Renato’s own wardrobe. The tunic fit well enough, for Renato was his equal in height, though the drawstring of the trousers was the only thing that kept them from slipping off his hips.

  Clothing was laid out for Myles as well, plainer than what was offered to Josan, no doubt because of the differences in their sizes. Still, freshly bathed, with their itching beards trimmed off, and in clothing that was not held together by dust and sweat, the two of them appeared entirely respectable. They would be fit dining companions for the magistrate and whoever else of his household would be in attendance.

  Myles had just finished retying his sandal straps when the boy who had greeted them earlier returned to conduct them to the dining chamber. Magistrate Renato was apparently a bachelor, for there were only three couches set out around the dining platform.

  Perhaps it was the fatigue of the journey finally catching up with him. Or perhaps it was merely the strangeness of a day that began with the fear of capture and ended as an honored guest. Whatever the reason, Josan felt a strange sense of unreality as he sipped a glass of pale yellow wine while Magistrate Renato inquired as to his comfort. He assured the magistrate that their rooms were to their satisfaction, noting yet again that while it was Myles who held the claim of friendship, it was Josan’s approval their host sought.

  The wine tasted sweet on his tongue, and he could feel fatigue creeping up on him. As he held the wine cup in his hand, he found himself wishing that the magistrate’s palate was less refined. For a moment it seemed that the cup grew warm in his hand, but then realized it was merely because the cup was half-empty. After Renato refilled it, Josan took another sip. The wine wasn’t as sweet as he had first thought, and indeed it went well with the bread and olives that had been set out as the first course.

  They conversed as if they were old friends recently returned to the city, as Magistrate Renato shared tidbits of recent events. The olives were followed by salads of fresh greens drizzled with vinegar, then the main course, pork cooked in wine, garnished with both red and green grapes. By the time the savory was set out, slices of apples topped with melted cheese, Josan could eat no more.

  Renato had kept everyone’s wine cups filled, and though the wine served with the main course had been generously watered Josan had taken care to drink sparingly. Despite his caution, Josan felt his head drooping with exhaustion.
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  “I can see you are both fatigued,” Renato said. “We should wait until you have rested to discuss serious matters.”

  “But—” Josan began.

  “I agree with the magistrate,” Myles said. “We will have clearer heads in the morning.”

  Something was wrong. Myles had not mentioned the Learned Brethren once, and following his lead Josan had kept his own tongue silent as well. Still, they had come to the magistrate for his help, had they not? Or was it that Myles trusted Renato with their persons but not with their secrets?

  After thanking Renato for the excellent dinner, Josan and Myles made their way back to the chamber that had been assigned to them. The hour was early, but his sleepless night had caught up with Josan, and as he sat down on his bed he felt the urge simply to lie down and wrap himself in the blankets.

  “Who is Renato to you?” Josan asked. “And why did you not speak to him about the brethren?”

  Myles sat down on the opposite bed. “I met Renato a few years ago when I did him a favor. Something that could have caused him much embarrassment if it had been improperly handled, but I was able to help him, and in turn he has been a friend to me.”

  Myles reached down and began unfastening his sandals. “I want us both clearheaded when we talk to Renato and ask his advice. And your story is too long to do it justice in a few sentences, which is all we have left before you fall asleep.”

  Josan opened his mouth to protest, but instead he yawned, thus proving Myles’s point. It was true, he could hardly think. His head was swimming with weariness, and it was all he could do to strip off his tunic and untie his sandals. Gratefully, he stretched out on the soft mattress, leaving it to Myles to blow out the lamps.

  Dimly he heard Myles moving around the room. Josan rolled over onto his side, savoring the feeling of a mattress that held neither lumps nor unwelcome critters. The soft blanket caressed his skin, a far cry from the coarse wool he was accustomed to. Such luxury was to be his only for a night, so he would make the most of it.

  Yet even as a part of him welcomed sleep, there was another part that cried out for wakefulness. That something was wrong, and he dare not rest. You have been tricked, the Other told him. This is a trap.

  Cold fear replaced his earlier lethargy as he realized that the Other was in ascendance. Josan could not afford to lose control. Not now, not when he was so close to the ones who could help him. He sought to center himself, inhaling and exhaling in carefully measured breaths, focusing his mind on the underlying order of the universe and his place within it. But the disciplines of meditation were no match for the Other, who continued to whisper of danger and betrayal.

  Abandoning meditation, his mind raced for alternatives. Chants, meditation, even asserting his identity had not proven enough to silence the Other in the past. He needed to focus his mind on a single thought. He cast his mind back to the years spent living with the brethren, wondering what secrets of soul magic they would be able to offer him. His thoughts turned to Brother Thanatos, which was odd since to his knowledge Thanatos had never studied soul magic. Numbers were his life, and he had shared that passion with all of his pupils.

  Slowly, Josan began mentally ticking off the sacred numbers. One. Three. Five. Seven. Eleven. As he counted, the strange whispers of the Other grew quieter. He was congratulating himself on his success when he heard the door to the chamber open.

  Opening his eyes, he saw Myles’s figure silhouetted against the light coming in through the partially opened door.

  “Is he asleep?” he heard Renato ask.

  “He’ll sleep till morning. I assume there was something in his wine?”

  “Of course.”

  Myles slipped through the door and as he closed it behind him, the room plunged into darkness.

  Betrayal the Other chortled, and this time Josan agreed.

  It would have hurt less if Myles had merely stabbed him. He had trusted Myles, at a time when he could trust no one else, not even himself. And now Myles had turned on him.

  Josan sat up, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. He located his sandals and tunic by touch and quickly dressed. By then his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and he made his way unerringly to the door. Cracking it open, he glanced down the corridor, which was empty.

  Instinct told him that Renato would feel safest speaking to Myles in his study, and memory guided him back along the route he had taken earlier that day. The Other whispered for Josan to flee, but Josan needed to know the extent of Myles’s treachery. It would not do to escape this trap only to fall into another.

  When he reached the lower level he passed a servant who was just leaving the study. The servant kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, not acknowledging Josan’s presence except by the way he was careful not to block his path. The sign of a well-trained retainer, one accustomed to serving in a house of secrets.

  It was a bitter reminder of how blind he had been. From the moment they had approached this place the signs of conspiracy had been all around him, but he had willfully closed his eyes. He had put his faith in Myles’s friendship rather than demanding to know the truth.

  That was about to change.

  The door to the study had been left slightly ajar, and through it he heard voices. He waited till the servant was out of sight, then moved closer, wondering what to do next. Should he attempt to spy on them? Confront them with their trickery?

  But what he heard made his blood run cold and froze him in place.

  “And he has no idea who he is?”

  “None whatsoever.” He recognized Myles’s voice, and knew from the tone that his erstwhile friend was frustrated. “The brethren have filled his head with lies.”

  “A glance in the mirror ought to be enough to prove his lineage.”

  Myles gave a grim laugh. “He is stubborn, and disinclined to take anyone’s counsel except his own.”

  “Well, he has Constantin’s arrogance.”

  “And that will not be enough. I’d hoped one of the alliance would know a magician who could break whatever spell the brethren have put him under.”

  Myles must have seen more of the Other than Josan had realized and apparently decided that his madness was the result of an evil spell. But if Myles did not believe that he was the monk Josan, then who did he think he was? Why had he kept his knowledge to himself? Had he done so out of a sense of misguided friendship? Or were there darker motives at work?

  And why would Magistrate Renato help him? What had he to gain?

  “I thought such magics the province of legends and children’s tales. It is unlikely that there is anything that can be done.”

  “But you will try?” Myles sounded genuinely concerned, which made his apparent betrayal even more puzzling.

  “I will try,” Renato said. “And perhaps our friends from the Seddon Federation have resources that we do not.”

  “We cannot afford to wait for one to journey from Seddon. I could barely convince him to spend the night here. If we do not do something, he will be off to seek the brethren tomorrow, and our hopes will be dashed.”

  “I agree, we have no time to wait. Healed or no, we can still use him. We must use him,” Renato said. “If your path had taken you through the old city, you would have seen the signs. The killings have started, and already we are on the verge of losing control. We need him, as much as he needs us.”

  “And what if we cannot persuade him to join us? What then?”

  “We will give him no choice.”

  Josan had heard enough. He moved forward to confront them, ready to demand an explanation. But as he reached to push open the door, his hand froze.

  The killings have started, the Other whispered.

  He tried to move forward, but his mind was filled with strange images. Buildings burning, the flames turning the dark of night into day. Corpses filling the streets, blood running through the gutters. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to force out the visions, but they persisted.
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  A woman’s body, naked, her bowels gaping obscenely through her slashed belly. The torso of a man, his limbs hacked off in evidence of the savage violence of his death. Two maniacally grinning skulls, posted on stakes outside the imperial palace.

  These were more than mere nightmares. To his horror he realized that these were images of his past. A past that was threatening to repeat itself—if Renato had his way.

  Josan was paralyzed with fear, overwhelmed by images of sickening violence. He could not move, but the Other—perhaps immune to the horrors that lurked within—did not share his weakness. Josan’s terror rose as he felt his body move without conscious volition. Turning on his heel, he lurched down the corridor. He struggled to regain control of his body, but succeeded only in waving one arm, and knocking a figurine off a table. The crash as it hit the tile floor seemed loud enough to wake the dead, and he knew that Myles would waste no time in coming to investigate.

  He had no choice. He needed to flee, and he could not do it alone. Reluctantly, he stopped fighting the Other.

  As his body fled, with a speed that he had not known he possessed, he could not help wondering if in fleeing one evil, he had made the mistake of embracing another.

  Chapter 15

  Sandals slapped against tiled floors as the sound of running footsteps disturbed the ordered tranquility of the collegium. Brother Nikos looked up from his journal as he heard the footfalls approaching. It was far too late an hour for the noises to be the sounds of a heedless novice at play, and he wondered what crisis had provoked such haste.

  He rose to his feet as there was a sharp knock, then the door to his private rooms was flung open.

  “Brother Nikos, beg your pardon, but we need you,” Jeno gasped out, in between panting breaths. A young novice in his first year of service, he had never before shown signs of an excitable disposition. “There is a madman at the postern gate who demands to speak with you.”