"There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?"
"But," Tash emphasized, dipping his head, "after a year, one of their faction bosses visited the village. He was surrounded by four guards much bigger than we were. They gathered us up in a room in a tavern that cleared out just for them. I thought we were in trouble. Instead, the boss clapped each of us on the shoulder and thanked us. Said we'd served so well, we deserved a reward. He gave the four of us each a knife—red and gold, with the skull and fist engraved in the blade. He welcomed us into the Shar-denn. Wished us long life and rewarded loyalty." Tash cast Mayr a deadpan stare. "Then he turned and slit the throat of one of his guards."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. He told the other guards to gut him like the traitor he was. Then he thanked us again. Turns out some of what we'd repeated from the lackeys incriminated the guard. The guard wanted to take their leaders out and replace them. Or turn them in. The boss said that's not loyalty; that's the stupid way to die. But if we were loyal—if we kept working hard—we'd never have a problem. We'd want for nothing."
"Please tell me you ran out of there." Mayr took a shaky breath. "You didn't, did you?"
"How could we? We couldn't run even if we hadn't been in shock. You don't run from the Shar-denn. If you want out, there's one way, and it ends in dead."
"So then what? You stood there and said…?"
"'Thanks for the knife,'" Tash mumbled. "He laughed, offered us a drink, and told us to burn the dead guard. Said we'd earned ourselves better jobs. He was impressed none of us had been sick or cried out when he killed the guard. We showed potential."
"And none of you told him no."
"Ress, my best friend at the time, asked what would happen if we ever did."
"And he ended up dead."
"No, he got to keep breathing. He got a knife in the knee for it, though. The boss moved fast. I just remember seeing Ress put his tankard down and the next thing I knew, he was on the ground, screaming." Tash rolled his neck. "We were informed that from our first job, we belonged to the Shar-denn. They owned us. If we stayed, we'd be taken care of. Given opportunities, payment, women, men, anything we wanted or needed. Protection for our families. Defense from the High Council and Tract Stewards. Everything. We just had to do what we were told, that was it. If we left, we'd die. Our families would lose everything. Bad things would befall us."
"Typical Shar-denn fare."
"Yes. He said they had enough to incriminate us, so we should just stay. They could make those crimes go away. Apparently the things we were moving weren't legal, to put it mildly."
"Stolen?"
"And dead." Tash winced. "There were a lot of things, some of which included what used to be people. Or were. We couldn't tell the difference between a drugged girl in a box and a load of weapons. You want to talk stupid? Let's discuss that."
"And this was in Gailarin? By the Four," Mayr spat out. "No wonder Korre had headaches."
"You have no idea. No one really knows unless they're part of it. I saw things… Did things…" Tash sighed and drew a hand over his eyes. "I got deep into it, hating everyone and taking things that weren't mine to have. I played the games and kept my mouth shut. I worked my way up to being a guard, protecting the faction bosses because I could fight and I was intimidating. They thought I was intelligent and bold. I witnessed things I wish I could forget. People got hurt because of me. And whenever I didn't comply with orders—" He motioned to the scars on his chest. "I was punished accordingly. I could beat a man in defense of the bosses, but I never liked committing outright murder, and they knew it. So they tested me occasionally. The other guards liked reminding me I'd never truly be one of them."
"That's why you don't like sharp weapons," Mayr muttered.
"For the most part, yes. We've had a complicated relationship."
What else had he misread? Mayr wondered, although one thing bothered him more than the others. "How did you get out?"
"Not easily. I was twenty-three, and I'd drifted from my family. One day, I realized how much I wanted out. I left everything and ran. Told my family to never search for me, to just pretend I was dead. Because I was. If they harboured me, they'd die for sure." Tash let out a breath. "It took days, but I set everything up perfectly. I knew who'd be where and when. I took off in the middle of the night when no one was watching. Didn't take anything with me, just ran until I couldn't feel my legs then ran even further. Took refuge in a temple about a day away. I remember stumbling in and collapsing, but not much else."
"Then you became a priest."
"Not the next day." Tash laughed softly. "I stayed for months, keeping my head low. When we thought it was safe, a priestess smuggled me to another temple in the Alosaa region. They gave me cloth and wax to work with. I made candles and robes, and the priestess' gowns for the holy observances. It gave me a chance to establish some sort of life and independence—but not too much. We had no doubt the Shar-denn was after me."
"And somehow they never found you?"
Tash shook his head. "I stayed covered up or locked away and called myself Tash instead of Taldris. Cut all my hair off. I spent most of the time paranoid and kept coming up with ways to hide or escape. When I finally decided to be a priest, I left and came to this temple to offer my oaths. I've been here since. Ten years, only by the grace of the Four."
"Aren't you worried they'll still get you?"
"All the time."
"But you keep going?"
"What else can I do?"
"I don't know. We could talk to the Council—"
"And have them do what, Mayr? They can't protect me any better than the Temple does, not that they want to. I've confessed to the Councilmen. I've given them what names I could and they've dealt with them accordingly, or so I was told. Considering I'm not looking for trouble, I've not asked them what was achieved. We have an agreement: I remain a priest and they leave me alone. I am neither pardoned nor condemned. I'm simply allowed to exist as a sacred servant."
"So that's it?"
"Yes." Tash swept his fingers across Mayr's cheek. "It's not all bad. I found you, and that's worth something."
"This sounds like you trying to change the subject."
"Perhaps. Is it working?"
"I suppose." Nose scrunched, Mayr considered his next words. Tash's fatigued eyes suggested he needed to think of something else. The memories were painful, evident from the shameful, disgusted expression still on Tash's face. If they were not invested in talking, he would have kissed Tash until he could do nothing but smile. "Another truth, then. Something serious, like the fact I keep getting into relationships that I know aren't good for me? The fact that I honestly don't know how to do any better?"
"I don't know if I believe that."
"Oh, you should. My choice in women has been so bad I can't even begin to make it up. I don't have that much imagination."
The tilt of Tash's head suggested he still disbelieved. "And yet you take it well enough to try again. You've overcome Sarene quicker than I expected."
Well enough? Now there's a laugh. "You have no idea," Mayr muttered. "Guess I might as well admit that's a lie."
"What is?"
"How well I'm taking it. It's a complete lie—just not one I want everyone to know." Jaws clenched, Mayr debated saying more. The truth was dangerous, playing with his vulnerability as if it demanded to be shattered. That was a challenge best left alone.
Tash leaned his head to Mayr's. "I will tell no one, I swear. No one, ever. Trust me like you did before; like you have been. Please don't stop. Not with this."
Trust. The concept sounded simple when Tash said it. Most of Mayr's intimate relationships had never known his full trust. Where his body was concerned, trust was easy: he was flesh and blood, toughened by a soldier's life. His physical being had never been the problem. Everything else was, particularly the parts of him that never hardened enough to protect him. Entrusting anyone after Betta had been impossible, and when
ever someone left him, they drove another poisoned stake through the festering emotional wounds. To ignore all of that and trust Tash… he wanted to. Deep down, he wanted to tell Tash everything. Even try letting Tash heal him if the wounds could be repaired.
If Tash stayed with him, maybe there was a chance.
Doubt washed over him, insisting he was too lost to offer anyone unguarded faith again. Trust would never be recovered; it would never be tended with care. Not where his heart was involved. Tash would leave him, taking any possible security of trust with him.
A lie. He needed the doubts to be a vicious lie. Especially right then, when the truth mattered.
Please don't throw this back at me. Stay and prove me right.
"Anyone who thinks I'm not affected is wrong. I am. It hurts me just as much as anyone else to hear I'm no good." Mayr raked his hand through Tash's hair. "Confidence is a funny thing: you can fake it just as deeply as you feel it. Say the right thing, act the right way, and people can believe anything. In everything else, I feel it, but with this one aspect of my life, I fake it. And I never used to."
"What changed?"
"Someone made me realize how much I care about what people think of me. Or rather, it's the people I love and who I believe love me." Mayr stuck out his tongue to lighten the mood. He hated being serious for too long. "Because I don't care what anyone else thinks. I've earned my life. The people who hate me are usually jealous, breaking the law, or they're an idiot anyway, so I can't take that seriously. But when love is involved, that's when the knives are sharp and hurtful words even sharper."
"Meaning?"
"I walk headlong into a blazing fire for the sake of love and piss and moan when I get burned. Then I do it again because I can't stand feeling empty and alone. I'm convinced if I just keep going, it'll work out. I'll find someone who'll take me as I am, and then I won't care about what anyone thinks about me ever again. Because I'll have that one person who won't care about how I do in bed, what I look like, if I'm wealthy, or that I do want more than just sex because hey, I believe in romance, too. I was under the impression that's what women wanted. Instead, they enjoy it for a little while then the appeal wears off."
"And your other lovers, compared to Sarene?"
"They had different personalities but the same end. There doesn't seem to be much else to it except I'm never what they want. Never enough. There's always someone better. And still I get into the same sort of relationship, even when I can see the disastrous end coming. Pathetic, isn't it?"
"No." Tash splayed his hand over Mayr's heart. "You just haven't found the right person yet. In time, that one will come forward, most likely when you're least expecting it. They'll be the one that you can never let go."
"Do you honestly think that? Because I'm having a hard time believing that's how it works." But he wanted to, Mayr almost added. When death came for him, he did not want to be full of bitterness and spite. He certainly did not want to die all alone. Being alone terrified him.
"I do, even though I've also felt the callous sting of love." Looking at his bracers, Tash bit his bottom lip, appearing to struggle with a decision. Finally, he held one arm up. "It's why I wear these."
"I don't understand."
"I don't… deal well… with a broken heart," Tash admitted, blushing as he cleared his throat and lowered his arm. "When I love someone deeply, losing them hurts more than I can handle. So I… use physical pain to distract myself. And remind myself to never repeat the situation." He touched one bracer. "There's a scar on both arms for each of my serious relationships that have failed. They're the real reason I keep only casual relations. Every time I give myself over to someone completely, they hurt me."
If Tash's whispered words shattered Mayr's heart, the fear in Tash's eyes nearly killed him. Tash's dull stare suggested he expected Mayr to walk away and never return.
The thought of Tash hurting himself turned Mayr's stomach and punched his anger. The scars he could live with. He bore enough of his own, testaments to what he endured. It was the self-harm that worried him. To know Tash had hurt enough to need that for comfort struck him hard. "Can I see?"
Tash pulled his forearms to his chest. "I never let anyone see. And the priests have been kind enough to let me cover them."
"All right, fine. Can you at least tell me why? Who?"
"You don't mind?"
"What I mind is that you do it at all. Go on, tell me."
Tash eyed Mayr warily. "The first was Inesta, my girlfriend when I was with the Shar-denn. We were together for five years, but she hated what I was doing. She gave me an ultimatum: if I didn't leave the Shar-denn, she'd leave me." His plaintive glance avoided Mayr's. "It was an ultimatum I couldn't meet. Not because I didn't love her—I did, so much that when she left, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think straight for days. But I couldn't just leave—they'd have killed not only me, but her, too. So I let her go. A few nights later, I put a knife to my wrist. It made things easier to bear, distracting me with a new pain I could actually do something about. I did it a second time, thinking it'd help, and it did."
Instead of yelling at Tash over his choices, Mayr subtly grated his teeth. "The second relationship?"
"Boyfriend. Naliss. We were together in Alosaa before I became a priest. He was easy to love."
"But he didn't stay."
"No. He decided I was too much—my problems were too much. He resented my paranoia, my fear of being hunted, and hated that we couldn't be completely open." Tash snorted softly. "Said he loved me, but he couldn't really love me. Said I pushed him into leaving—that I ran him off. Naliss couldn't stand living in the shadows and left. That's when I fled Alosaa to become a Metah priest here. I couldn't be like that anymore, who I was with him. I needed to be stronger. Less about me and more about others."
Mayr caressed Tash's stubbly jaw. "I'm sorry. That's not fair."
"It's true, though," Tash murmured. "I forced him out just like I did Inesta. I dragged them into a dangerous life. They were constantly in competition with my bad decisions and trying to survive. They deserved better. If anything wasn't fair, it was me." He tilted his head back. "Not as bad as the third. That one… I broke her."
"Tash—"
Tash held his fingers to Mayr's lips. "She killed herself, and that's on me. When it comes to your mother, no amount of 'it wasn't your fault' can alleviate the guilt. With Erithe, it's the same." As Mayr pulled him closer, he accepted the embrace. "I was a Metah, then, and she lived in the village. I thought things between us were good—more than good. She was sweet, funny. Caring. Made me believe in the power of Emeraliss and forgiveness. Still, Erithe had problems of her own; emotional downfalls that hit without warning. She was honest about it, and I helped the best I could."
"But?"
"She told me it was over, that things between us were too intense. Said I was smothering her and demanded too much." Tash sighed. "I was willing to change. Told her I'd do anything. But she wanted space. Days later, someone found her body in the river. She'd left a note saying she couldn't take living anymore. I found out from her sister that Erithe had gotten worse after leaving me and she'd blamed me for it. After that, I was finished with serious relationships."
Mayr glanced at Tash's bracer, trying not to imagine what the scars looked like. "And you're left with those."
"Yes."
"That's not right."
"Right, wrong, fate—pick one. They are what they will be."
"That's not an answer. That sounds like denial."
Tash shook his head. "It's acceptance. It took me years to accept that love and I don't mix. Now sex," he said, drawing his fingers along Mayr's flaccid cock, "we get along perfectly."
One hand on Tash's, Mayr stopped him from teasing further. "And I call it avoidance."
"Maybe it is, but it keeps me alive. Sane."
"And never gets dealt with."
"It freezes misery," Tash argued softly, "and keeps it locked down. Love is the quicke
st way to kill me and ruin those I care for. That's why they never come back. I push them away and they can't fight it. They stay gone." He shifted again and raised his knees. "But enough of me. You have one last truth."
"So I should make it good, right?" Mayr stared at the curtains and worn wood planks of the dark wall. All the truths he never could have guessed. Tash hid them well, leading everyone to believe he was carefree and peaceful when deep down, he suffered, pinned by regret. No one saw it. No one felt it. There was no one to stop him. Did the priests understand how much he had been through? How much he needed someone? Did the Goddesses realize Tash needed a reprieve?
Take pity on him, would You? Mayr prayed. Emeraliss, if You're going to continue toying with me, fine, but give him something. Someone. I know my relationships are Your entertainment, but whatever he's gone through—punishment, the wrong end of a divine bet, fate's boredom—it's cruel. It needs to stop. Go ahead and give me another Sarene if it makes any difference.
Tash tapped Mayr's shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, fine. Thinking, that's all."
"We don't have to continue. It wasn't one of my best ideas, I know."
"No, it's fine. I have one more." Mayr laid a finger on Tash's bottom lip, recalling the soft touch of Tash's mouth on his. "I was a father. Now I'm not."
A dark sadness clouded Tash's gaze. "I'm sorry. I'll pray for their spirit. How did your child di—"
"No, it's not like that. At least I don't think it is." Ten years could have changed many things. He could not rule out the possibility that the tiny girl he once held in his arms—his beautiful Iliane—had not died. Panic offset the rhythm of his heart. "By all that is sacred, I hope she's still alive," he whispered, the blood rushing from his face. To think she was dead… That he was not there to protect her…
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