Oathbreaker ch. 10.10 - A Gathering and a Visitor (Patreon)

Arlock bought out an inn’s common room in the town. It was generous, and made me feel guilty because I should have been the one to do it. But I had no coin that wasn’t borrowed from Accord coffers, and none of that was for spending on a party.

I arrived late, having been held up with Kaia and Moonbrand discussing reports. The news of Kyne Farram’s death was a terrible blow, and one the Empress had ordered kept strictly private. He’d been the bulwark against the threat in the eastern valleys for the better part of the last decade, and without him the evil in Elfgrave no longer had a warden.

Of Snoë Farram, I saw no sign.

The grim mood in the castle hadn’t prepared me for Emma’s party. When I stepped through the common room doors, warmth and light and cheerful sound hit me like a hammer. There were more people than I’d expected. The Drachens were there, and Myrice Gorgon — she’d formed an unlikely friendship with the lance the past winter while I’d been in Osheim — and a handful of other faces I recognized from court. The whole lance came, of course, along with some members of the garrison whom Hendry and Penric had a good rapport with. Every squire who heard about the event and some younger knights came to heckle and congratulate their peer. The rest were townsfolk who were happy to take the excuse to drink and dance before festival time.

Emma leaned against the bar, a cup dangling in her fingers as she chatted with a young man and a maid who stood on either side of her. The man was a Cymorin knight, a few years older than my apprentice and carrying the elfin good looks and silk hair all his clan seemed to possess. The girl was a bit younger, either one of the townsfolk or even an employee of the inn’s keeper.

Tzanith met me near the door. She was in a human glamour, her black hair shorter than normal and mussed to cover her right eye. It was strange seeing her with a more natural skin tone and without pointed ears. She had a stronger jaw in this form, her eye a soft blue rather than a shard of midnight sea. I almost didn’t recognize her save by her voice.

“Emma was worried you weren’t coming,” the elf told me. “She wouldn’t admit it, but she kept looking.”

“I got held up,” I admitted. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Tzanith smiled, but the expression held an edge of strain. “I will be leaving quickly to rendezvous with my people and deliver the Empress’s request. I simply wanted to see this before I left.” She swept her gaze across the crowd. “To see people making merry, finding love, living life. There will be little enough of it soon.”

“Tzanith, I wanted to—”

“Enough of that.” She gave me a level look, knowing what I’d been about to say. “Three times you rebuffed me. I do not hate you for it — I understand — and I have done my grieving. Your ambivalence only picks at the wound.”

The words stung, as they were meant to, and I inwardly flinched at them. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“For Myrice?” Tzanith shook her head. “I know that’s the Empress’s doing. Do you fancy her?”

The question seemed genuine, simply a friend’s curiosity, but I shuffled in discomfort. “She sees it as a political match, a way to gain power. I’m not sure she much cares about love.”

“Hm. I see.” Tzanith’s wistfulness retreated behind her glamour just as her true form had. “Go. Make merry. Dance. You will need this night’s warmth in you.”

She was gone into the crowd before I could say anything else. I wasn’t sure what I might have said — something foolish and useless, probably. First I’d let things with Catrin go wrong, and then Tzanith. I’m a fool.

Arlock was already drunk and arguing loudly with his cousin at one of the tables near the bar. Some of the staff were clearing space to make a dance floor, and I instinctively avoided that ring. Wine and mead and other vintages flowed freely, and I grabbed myself a cup. It took a lot for me to get drunk — my magic burned the poison off almost as quickly as I could ingest it — but I felt I’d need reinforcement for this.

“You’re late.”

I turned to find Emma glaring at me. She must have seen me come in and made her way through the crowd to ambush me.

“Sorry, squire. Ah, I can’t call you that anymore!” I put a grin on my face. “Congratulations, Em. This has been a long time coming. We meant to do this the day you came back, with all fanfare and pomp.”

“Instead of on the eve of a war?” The young woman quirked a dark eyebrow. “Yes, well, I always expected I’d have to hold some petty monarch at sword point to get my knighthood. It’s a bit droll to have your old flame hand it down like a generous gift.”

I winced. “Please don’t call her that. And this wasn’t a gift. You’ve earned it, and it was past due.”

Emma was quiet a while. Her amber eyes drifted across the room, and she sipped from her cup. I followed her gaze and found Hendry and Lisette sitting together at the bar. Hendry said something into the cleric’s ear, and the girl laughed. Both of them were in plainclothes, which for Lisette meant light brown robes like the kind a novice monk at a monastery might wear instead of her brightly dyed yellow cape and white habit. She’d cut her hair in the Abbey fashion recently, trimming her yellow locks into a bowl-cut. Hendry had grown his brown hair long and wore much the same garb he had during training that day.

Emma watched them, drank Karlesian rye, and then suddenly said, “Did you ask her to do it?”

Her voice was sharp and accusing. There was anger there just under the surface.

“No,” I said. “It was her suggestion. She asked me if I thought you were ready, and I told her the truth.”

“I’m not ready,” Emma said bitterly into her cup. “You beat me easily today when we were training. Me and Hendry both.”

I scratched at my jaw. I’d done that for a purpose, but in retrospect it was obviously eating at her. “Em… I’m going to say something that will sound arrogant, but please listen to me; I’m the Headsman of Seydis. Maybe I’m on strike at the moment, but that’s a mantle that still sits on my shoulders. Even before that, I beat every warrior I ever fought. I’ve made compromises for power and I’ve tried to make myself something that can contend with all the monsters. Sometimes I feel like a monster myself…”

Emma shook her head. “So I’ll never be as strong as you? I have to just accept that?”

“You can easily be as strong as me,” I said soberly. “That’s what Vicar and I were trying to say earlier today. We’re not fencing, Emma. We’re about to go into war. Rosanna knighted you because she expects you to fight in that war. It’s not what I wanted for you, but we’re here now and this is the path you wanted to be on.”

A group of musicians had been pulled off the street and were plucking their first few testing notes. The party would be starting in earnest soon, and the inn was quickly filling up.

“I thought this might be a more private affair,” I admitted sheepishly. “Arlock and Myrice’s doing, no doubt. We can always go somewhere else if you want, just the five of us.”

“It’s fine. I think people just need the excuse to forget everything else for a night, and I don’t mind crowds. I’ve spent enough of my life alone.”

I nodded. For a minute we said nothing, just watched people laugh and talk. Myrice caught my eye across the room and raised her cup in invitation. I inclined my head but didn’t move to join her. She shrugged and turned her attention away.

“Are you going to marry her?” Emma asked me.

“Myrice?” I leaned my head back. “Don’t know. I don’t dislike her, but I don’t really want to get wrapped up in her intrigues either.”

“I don’t see it,” Emma said. “I liked you with Catrin more. I miss her.”

“Me too.” I fiddled with my cup. “Probably best she’s away from all of this.”

Emma blew out a breath and adjusted her hair. Like Hendry, she’d grown it out long over the past year and it fell down her shoulders in black-brown curls. “I haven’t accomplished anything of… substance.” She all but spat the word. “I expected to earn my knighthood through some great deed, to make a name for myself!”

“Outside of my shadow?” I asked. “Is that why it bothers you that Rosanna knighted you?”

She glared at the floor. “Maybe? I don’t know.” Her gaze shot up. “I’m going to go dance.”

One of the musicians was putting on a jaunty tune with his fiddle, and there was a drum beat starting up as people gathered in the open space. Emma stalked onto the floor as people were grabbing partners and placed herself squarely in front of the handsome Cymorin youth. He offered his arm, and Emma took it as the pairs began to perform their first circle. Those who knew that this was Emma’s show clapped for her, and those who’d simply come in for drinks and music took up the applause.

“That girl,” a rasping voice said from behind me. Penric had slid into my space in the moments after Emma left it. The dead man could move like a shade when he wanted to. He had his archer browns on and his pointed hat tipped down to shadow his false eyes. I could just barely make out the glint of auratic gold that marked the seams in his flesh, efforts made by Lisette to keep him from decay.

“She’s got a lot on her shoulders,” I agreed, then gestured to Hendry and Lisette where they still sat and chatted together. “When did that start?”

Penric shrugged. “They’re kids,” he said fondly. “They’ll figure things out. That girl of yours puts on a good show of having herself figured, but it’s an act.”

“You know what this means?” I said lightly. “I can’t have a lance comprised of fully belted knights. Emma and Hendry should have their own squires, their own archers.”

Penric made a dismissive gesture. “That’s the way. I’ll go where Lisette goes. My carcass is tethered.”

There was more I wanted to say, but this wasn’t the night for it. I drank. Penric held a cup too, but he only pretended — alcohol did less for him than for me. His gaze wandered and he spoke in a lower voice that I barely heard over the music and the crowd.

“One of those wizards is here.”

“I know.”

Gallow was sitting in one of the corners. She’d arrived shortly after me, merely appearing at her table as though by magic. Perhaps she had. There was no sign of her husband.

“She’s been watchin’ you,” Penric warned me. “She gives me the creeps.”

“Is that dyghoul intuition?” I asked.

“Maybe.” He pulled at his beard. “She’s a scary one, sure as sure. It’s like there’s a bonfire blazing in that corner.”

I considered reaching out with my senses, but dropped the idea. Instead, I pushed off the table and navigated my way through the crowd until I stood by the wizardess. She lifted her cup in a toast.

“Headsman,” Gallow greeted me.

“You’ve been stalking me,” I accused her without preamble.

“Perhaps I just like this inn.” The woman flashed white teeth.

I pulled a chair out and sat at her table. Her expression became blank as I laid a hand on the table’s surface.

“This is an important night,” I said. “My ward — who is like a little sister to me — is having what might be the most important day of her life. She’s been preparing for it for years, and she’s gone through hell and back to get here. So I’ll ask you again, and I’d like a straight answer — what do you want?”

One of the staff refilled our drinks. I ignored mine and watched Gallow as she thanked the man and then sipped from her cup. Her eyes shifted up to meet mine, and she turned the sip into a long pull, drawing the moment out. Only after she’d placed the cup down and patted at her lips with a cloth did she speak.

“You know what I want, Headsman.”

“Lias.” I leaned back. “You want him out of Heavensreach. I have no power to—”

“I am not bargaining with you,” she hissed with a coldness that silenced me. “I am not pleading or blackmailing. I will not sink so low as to negotiate with you. Lias is a grown man and he made his choices. I will never forgive you for your part in it, but I’m not some desperate mother who will move heaven and earth to get her baby boy back, especially not now when we face a potential apocalypse.” Her golden-green eyes were hard as ice chips. “Don’t you dare insult me at the suggestion.”

I let out a long breath and spread my hands. “Then I don’t know what you want.”

“I want to preserve humanity from the degradations of madmen and false gods.” Gallow had her elbow propped on the table, and she lazily tilted a finger in my direction. “And I think you want that as well. Lias tried to solve the problem by making himself a god, despite all of mine and Wynn’s warnings. That game is rigged, a trap.”

“A trap?” I asked.

She shook her head. “There’s no time to get into it, or to give you a millennia long history lesson. My order is dedicated to three things.” She held up three short fingers. “We want to stop human civilization from devouring itself. Want to subdue Reynard. And we want to bind the Gatebreaker before he can join forces with his son.”

“His son?” I asked.

“The Cambion.” Gallow blinked at me. “Ah, I would have thought the Choir told you. Yes, the Dark Lord of Antriss was sired inside the Silver City in the century following its fall. Our information is incomplete and much of it is conjecture, but we are fairly certain of this.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched me retreat into my thoughts. “You don’t seem terribly surprised.”

“I’ve suspected that forces in Edaea have been supporting Reynard for some time now,” I admitted. “Why don’t I know about the connection between Ager Roth and—”

Gallow hissed. “Do not say that name. It is a bastardization of his old angelic name, and it has power.”

“…Why don’t I know about the connection between the Gorelion and the Cambion King?” I finished, irritated at the interruption. “The Church only teaches that the demon lord was the Cambion’s ally, his benefactor.” I cursed. “For that matter, the priests say that the Cambion was at the Sack of Heaven, that he chased the God-Queen from it.”

“The Church is not as old as this war,” Gallow said. “And much of this history was… altered when the Old Inquisition took power. Though the Fellowship of the Trident disbanded, it irrevocably changed the face of Urn’s beliefs and histories. Many dogmatic clerics remained in power and many nobles preferred the new version of events. The Cambion is regarded as a wretch, a sore loser only fit to make us feel good about our holiness. Best we not think of him as the child of divinity, even a fallen and diseased one, hm? A great number of my fellows died at the original Inquisition’s hands, hunted down as apostates and heretics, and we never really worked up the influence to challenge the Church over it. This past century has been dark, Ser Knight, well before Seydis burned.”

“Why didn’t the Choir do anything about it?” I asked. “This is their history.”

Gallow arched a single eyebrow. “Why? You’ve met them. Why do you think?”

“You’re saying they wanted this?” I asked. “For whole generations to be fed a lie about the past?”

“They use you to murder dissenters who defy their edicts,” Gallow told me. “They are tyrants, Headsman. They rule us in the name of a God who no longer dwells in this world.”

“You sound like a Recusant,” I accused.

Gallow’s smile showed sharp canines. “I was Recusant. I suppose I still am in my heart.”

When I bristled, she laughed. “We are old rebels, boy. Hasur Vyke merely adopted the persona for his own ends, but there have always been voices standing in opposition to the unity of the Choir. The God-Queen encouraged it, sanctioned it. The original Recusants were a faction She fostered in order to prevent her followers from becoming a zealous monolith. It wasn’t until the Crusades that we began to be treated like the enemy, because the emperors needed support to fund their wars in Edaea and we were inconvenient.”

I felt like the breath had just been knocked out of me. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Gallow sipped from her cup. “I abandoned it all when I met my husband, but I don’t see our gods as holy. I think you’ve come close to that belief yourself? You have the power to see through lies. Look into my eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

I found myself struggling to meet her gaze. “You’re Magi. It doesn’t work on you.”

“Perhaps not. Will you merely call me a liar then? That would be fitting.”

Gritting my teeth, I made myself look at her. There were stories about the Magi. Looking into their eyes was dangerous. They were said to be able to see into one’s soul, to lay curses with a mere glance, to ensorcel and entrap.

But I’d met many beings for whom the same could be said. So I made myself look. Gallow’s eyes had the gleam of potent aura, flecks of gold burning inside the green irises. Unlike most, she didn’t balk, she didn’t flinch or wince as my own golden gaze fell on her.

“What do you want from me?” I asked her with a quiet despair. “To turn me rebel?”

Gallow laughed, the sound high and unfeigned. “No! No, but you should know what it is you serve. I am a loyal servant of the God-Queen’s realm, Alken Hewer, but the  Choir of Heavensreach is no master of mine. They are exiles, and they are not speaking with a single voice.”

I’d said practically the same thing the past spring. It didn’t hearten me to hear someone else say it.

Gallow waited a beat, then hit me with another hard question. “Why haven’t they asked you to kill Reynard?”

I looked away. “I don’t know. I’ve had theories, but…”

“Stop theorizing,” she said coldly. “Our survival may hinge on the answer.”

She stood then and moved to stand next to me. Gallow seemed to chew on her words a moment before speaking. “I don’t know if you are my enemy or not, Alken Hewer. I want to hate you — I’ve never loved anyone or anything so much as my husband and my son. But Li saw you as his brother, so for that alone I will merely watch and reserve judgement.”

Before she left I said, “How is Darsus doing?”

Gallow paused, and for a moment she looked more human. “He is a very brave little boy. He might make a great man one day, if we can save him from our failures.”

She left me then with an empty table and dark thoughts. More people had stepped onto the dance floor, including Hendry, who was struggling through his steps with a raven-haired Karlesian girl who was literally doing circles around him. Lisette still sat at the bar and was clapping along with the beat and laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. Emma and her partner moved with the grace of swordsmen and space had cleared around them.

The musicians shifted into a folk dance, and the partners changed. Two groups were formed as a steady drumbeat filled the room. It was a dance popular all across the subcontinent, from noble courts to villages, with little variation between the two. The women formed a ring around the men, with the outer ring facing inward and the inner ring facing out. A leader was selected among the women, and if she did not fancy the partner she faced, then she would shift to the left and the whole group would move with her. Once the leader selected a partner and beckoned him forward, then the pairs were fixed based on who faced who.

Emma was the leader, and she passed right over the Cymorin who’d been flirting with her all night, ignoring his angry flush. The beat of the drum perfectly matched the hopping gait of the outer ring. The men, mostly older boys, laughed and jostled each other.

Emma placed herself squarely in Hendry’s sightline and he nervously accepted her extended hand. Lisette wasn’t laughing anymore. The rhythm of the music changed as the men advanced on their partners. Each woman stomped forward in sync, and the men stepped back lest their feet by struck. This happened again, and again, until the men were practically shoulder to shoulder, forced back to their original position.

A flute joined the drum and the two circles began to turn again, this time in sync. I watched Emma hold up her hand and Hendry take it. He looked less nervous now, his face writ with determination. He’d always looked boyish, his smooth features and kind eyes at odds with his bulky frame. He looked older then, firmer somehow. Emma tilted her chin up in approval.

They were so young. I wished I’d helped win a better world for them. Instead, it seemed like they were just inheriting the pain.

I saw Lisette still sitting alone and shuffled my way around the perimeter of the common room to join her as the dance continued.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” I asked. “Some vow against having fun?”

I’d meant it as a joke, but the young cleric shot me an angry look.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s nothing.” She wouldn’t look at me.

“Hm. Well, as a wallflower myself, I suppose I shouldn’t judge.”

Lisette sighed. “You should go have fun too. You’re the closest thing Emma has to family here, and this is her night.”

The music and the dance changed again. I watched Emma and Hendry bow to one another like duelists, and then my former squire approached us. She put herself squarely in front of Lisette and propped a fist on her hip.

“Are you going to keep pouting?” Emma demanded. “You’re sucking all the heat out of the room.”

Lisette glowered, though there didn’t seem to be any heart in it. “Just leave me alone, Emma. You’ve made your point.”

Emma tossed her hands. “What point? Oh, I don’t have the energy for this.”

She held out her hand, palm up. Lisette stared at it like she’d just been offered a live viper.

“What?” Lisette asked warily.

Emma rolled her eyes. “A peace offering. You told me you don’t know how to dance, remember? I’ll show you.”

Lisette glanced at me. I shrugged. She took a deep breath and then took the other woman’s hand. Emma pulled the cleric into the circle with enough force to make her yelp. By that point it wasn’t just youths moving to the music. Penric was dancing with a thirty-something townswoman who was putting many of the younger women to shame with her energy, and Arlock’s cousin was with the same young Karlesian who’d flustered Hendry before. Emma showed surprising patience with Lisette, and Lisette was a quick study and better than she’d given herself credit for.

I saw Tzanith, and without thinking about it I started walking towards her. Moments later, we were dancing as well. It wasn’t the first time we’d done so together, and we earned applause and cheers. She was smiling and there was no artifice or glamour in it. I felt my heart twist.

I’m a fool.

I danced with Emma, and then with Lisette, and the night grew older and no one seemed to feel the need to call it quits. Arlock was a belligerent drunk and his cousin eventually had to take him out, but that hardly soured anyone’s mood. I found myself dancing with Myrice, and she was graceful as a serpent and pushed me to the limits of my skill. I could tell she was trying to impress me, and she did.

I drank enough that even I started to feel my head swim, and at some point I found myself outside, stumbling back to the inn after a piss. It was a cold night. Colder than it should have been. Someone was standing outside the inn door, alone on the street, and I paused and stared at them. They weren’t tall, and they wore a long cloak and heavy cowl to hide their features, but beneath it I saw the telltale of armor. Their cloth was threadbare and stained by hard roads, and the armor beneath looked dark and dingy.

A knight-vagabond? I wondered. Cautiously I said, “There’s drink and good cheer inside, friend.”

“I can hear it.” His voice was rough like that of an old or sick man. “Will you invite me in, then?”

I wasn’t so drunk as to be an idiot. My guard was up, and my hesitation corresponded with a flicker of motion behind the stranger. The blade of a long, thin Bannermark sword pressed against the curve of his neck.

“Please don’t answer that,” the vampire behind the hooded man said. Sidsel Mabsworn’s eyes reflected the light of the lantern hung above the inn’s door, making them glow in the night.

“I wasn’t going to.” Directing my words at the hooded man I asked, “Who are you?”

He had his hands up and away from his own sword, which I could see belted at his waist beneath the cloak. His raspy voice emerged from the cowl in a bare whisper. “You know me. Don’t recognize your old enemy, Headsman?”

In a hard tone I said, “Remove your hood.”

He waited for me to nod to Sidsel, who stepped back but kept her sword ready. The man lifted his hands and pulled his cowl back to reveal his face. His hair was gone to frosted gray and there were lines that belonged to an older man than he was, his eyes and cheeks sunken not unlike the vampire behind him. His eyes were a dull, lifeless brown in a gray face. The armor beneath his dark cloak was ancient and dingy, brown rather than gray, its intricate designs scarred by time and violence, myriad lines curling into the shapes of skull-faced kings and strange beasts. He wasn’t tall or powerfully built, and he stood with a slight stoop, but I could see the shadow of royalty in his prematurely aged face.

I did know him.

Calerus Vyke looked back at me and said, “I need your help.”