Chapter 59
With Velya’s help, Endu stepped out of the threads into Borrgas patch, on the south end of the city. It was Sustained territory, just on the Waters. One of House Grover’s patches, Endu thought, though she couldn’t be certain.
They were at the edge of a small park, looking in at the few people there. Since most open land was reserved for farming, even here in Sustained territory, parks were valuable. That meant only powerful people or their families had access. People like Hazra Fisher and her niece Tela.
“This is a very bad idea,” Endu whispered as they stared into the park from one of the nearby streets. “There are wanted posters of me in almost every patch. Even with these ridiculous disguises, she may still recognize me before we get close, and if she does-”
“We need her,” Velya cut her off sharply, looking around briefly, “and not just for her connection to the Clarion. Besides, these dresses aren’t for her benefit anyway.” Velya pointed out several men on the outskirts of the park. They were dressed as merchants, with flashy yet well-worn tunics and pants, but Endu could see the way they walked and stood. They were definitely soldiers: probably full-blown Ascendants.
Endu picked uncomfortably at her dress. She and Velya were made up to look like minor noblewomen such as were common here. While she did appreciate the necessity of blending in, this outfit was both unpleasant to wear and repellent to the eye. It stood for women whose sole purpose in life was to marry well and bear children to their husbands. Women who had never tilled a field, nor milked a cow, nor fitted a bandage in their lives. Useless women. They might as well be wearing red for all the dignity these people had.
Velya had talked her into this plan, but Endu was far from comfortable with it. Somehow she’d known about Arico’s plan to destroy the Spire—that legendary Thorne spy network at work, no doubt—and had come up with this Registry plan as a possible alternative. When Nemith and Arico had first revealed their typically male plan to just blow up their enemies, Jaas had objected on moral grounds. Endu had actually agreed with her, though for much different reasons. The Council and Berilo Fisher did deserve to die, but Endu wanted to do it herself. Slowly and painfully, if possible; not in a building collapse or some boring explosion. That would be far too quick and painless.
If Velya’s plan worked and the people turned against the Council, it would be greatly weakened. Endu would then be free to hunt them down one by one, and deliver them to the fate they so desperately deserved.
Velya took her by the arm and marched out into the field. She glided gracefully, despite the grass impeding her ornate shoes, and Endu did her best to mimic Velya’s elegant movement. They wandered for a few minutes, pretending to enjoy the day and the sunshine. A few other children were in the park as well, laughing and running around each other.
Finally they made their way over to Hazra, who was straightening little Tela’s hair. “My lady Fisher?” Velya inquired politely.
Hazra looked up at them distractedly. “Yes?”
“I’m Velya Cooper,” she said in a friendly tone, and then gestured to her side. “And I believe you’ve heard of my friend, Endu? From Tellek patch?”
Hazra stiffened noticeably—her eyes hardened and her entire stance changed. The spoiled princess was gone and the brutal killer was here. Her hand slipped to her side, apparently by reflex. She wasn’t armed, thankfully. Hazra had no need for weapons, not with Ascendants this close to them.
Instead her hands tightened into fists. Before she could move though, Velya held up a hand. “Easy now! Easy, milady. We wouldn’t want any young people to see something that might scar them for life, would we?” The little girl turned her head and looked back at them curiously.
Heartbane’s expression of hatred remained, and for a moment Endu thought she would attack regardless of the consequences. Thankfully she seemed to hesitate, and took a deep breath. “Go on and play, Tela,” she said in a carefree voice. “Aunt Hazra has to talk to these nice ladies.” Tela gave a small curtsy, and then ran off.
In an instant the predatory Heartbane was back. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she snarled at Velya, “but you have a lot of nerve bringing her here. If I weren’t with my niece…” She trailed off, but the implication was clear.
Velya spread her hands. “We just want to talk, that’s all,” she said placatingly. “We wanted to speak to you and your consort at the same time actually, but there’s no way we could approach the Clarion without drawing the Council’s attention. You don’t need to worry about any trouble, though. Once we’ve said what we came to say, we’ll leave you in peace.”
Now it was Endu’s turn to speak. She took a deep breath, trying to overcome her fear of this creature. “I know you want me dead,” she began tentatively, “and I don’t blame you. I spoke to Arico though, and he told me about his real identity, and who his sister is. I’m hoping for his sake, that you’ll hear me out. You deserve to know why I killed Tenlor, to hear the whole story. I doubt you’ll ever forgive me, but perhaps you’ll gain some measure of understanding, or hopefully even closure.”
“What makes you think I care about any of those things?” Heartbane demanded.
Endu shrugged. “Maybe you don’t. I don’t really know, but you do care about what happens to your family, or you would have attacked me already.” She glanced across the way, down towards little Tela. “I was motivated by revenge, pure and simple. Your brother murdered my little girl in cold blood. He stabbed her, and then just dumped her into the threads like she was some pest he was ridding himself of.”
Even after all this time, and after she’d gotten revenge, the story was difficult to tell. Endu swallowed hard and moved past it. “I doubt you’re surprised to hear that, though,” she said more confidently. “The other Sustained ladies here might be fooled, but a world-class killer like you would see right through him. I think you knew who your brother was—what he was.”
It was getting easier to continue, now that Endu wasn’t talking about herself anymore. “I’ve studied Heartbane’s targets, and you rarely go after anyone who doesn’t deserve it. You have a sense of justice. More so than the Council does, anyway. When you came after Arico, trying to find and kill me, I don’t think it was revenge. I think you were trying to please your father.”
Heartbane said nothing, but that silence was telling on its own. Endu hid a smile as she went on. “The real question, is did he know it was you? Does he know now who you really are? I think he does. Either he found out on his own, or you told him. After all he is your father, and it’s hard to deny the love that a father shares with his daughter. Even if the father doesn’t deserve that love.”
Adding that last bit was a mistake. Heartbane let out a low noise and, quick as blinking, a dagger was in her right hand. She took one step and the dagger’s tip was against Endu’s stomach. “Say that again, stra’tchi,” she said, her voice thick with anger.
Velya started forward but Endu held out a hand, warning her back. Even if Velya could beat Heartbane, Endu would be gutted long before that happened. She glanced down at the dagger, trying not to move any more than she already had. Heartbane had apparently been hiding it inside her sleeve: an impressive feat, given the tightness of her dress. She was good.
Even now, in the middle of a crowded park, her movements were subtle enough to avoid notice. Anyone who looked in their direction would see a pair of ladies engaged in close conversation, nothing more.
“It’s time you faced the truth about your family, Hazra,” Endu said unblinkingly. Strangely enough, she wasn’t even that nervous. Even if Hazra killed her here and now, it wouldn’t really matter. Alzhi was already on the other side waiting for her, and the boys would be safe enough in Arico’s care. Or Nemith’s care, if Arico didn’t make it back. She didn’t really have that much left to lose.
“I know you love your father, as any good daughter would,” she went on quietly, “but he never really loved you. I heard about your miscarriages,” she added, wincing slightly in sympathy. “As soon as it was clear you could never give him grandchildren, you had to know that in his eyes, you were useless. I suspect that’s why you became Heartbane in the first place. Am I right?”
The knife pressed inward, not breaking cloth or skin, but getting the point across all the same. “You’re very good at guessing motivations, Endu, but you don’t know a thing about what my life has been like!”
“Don’t I?” Endu countered quickly. “All stra’tchi women have to look out for themselves. We’re not just wives and caretakers, but we’re also expected to work hard as farmers, leatherworkers, woodcutters, in whichever patch we happen to be sent to. I can list half a dozen women, in my own patch alone, who had to work twice as hard for half the recognition that their male neighbors got! Believe me, I know very well what it feels like to be judged by strangers for nothing more than my ability to bear children. If I’d had your combat training, I might have been tempted to follow your example, Heartbane!”
She looked to the side, at her friend in the Thornes. “Velya has had it even worse, being a Deathwatcher. She’s surrounded by warriors every day, in a patch where the weak die off regularly, and sometimes even get eaten by the strong! How hard is my life, or yours for that matter, compared to hers?”
Velya looked troubled at that. Endu didn’t know for sure if cannibalism was still happening in the Deathwatch patch, but the rumors had persisted for years. Perhaps Velya would disagree, based on her time spent with the Thornes, but at the very least her early years with the Deathwatchers had been no picnic.
With another grunt, Heartbane stepped back, the fire in her eyes fading somewhat. In another blink, the dagger was gone again. “Why don’t you just get to the point, then, and put us both out of our misery?” She asked tiredly.
“You have no future with Berilo Fisher,” Endu said bluntly. “Even if you were able to bear and give birth to a son now, the value would always be with the child, not with you. Help us save Arico’s life. Help him overthrow Berilo, and the Council! Only then will you have the opportunities you’ve been denied since birth. Only then will we have a chance to give those opportunities to every girl born in Patchwork, Sustained or stra’tchi!”
Heartbane chuckled. “Your offer is ironic, given what my father promised me. All I have to do is kill you and he’ll make me his heir. I’ll have the future I deserve and my father’s respect at the same time.”
So the old man had been foolish enough to offer a reward. Good, that would work in their favor. Endu spread her hands again. “Then do it. Take out that dagger of yours and stab me in the heart. If what Arico told me is true, you can then vanish into thin air, take my corpse to your father, and get your reward. If you really believe he’ll make you heir, or that the Council will let him, then you should kill me now and not look back.”
For a moment, the two of them just stared each other in the eyes. Velya, the children, the other ladies, even the guards outside the park seemed to just not exist. That moment stretched into seconds, though, and finally Heartbane looked away.
“Do you really think Arico would be any different?” She asked after a moment. “That he would give me any power or control, if I was foolish enough to try and oust my father? Or if we were suicidally lucky enough to succeed?”
“He is different,” Endu said without hesitation, and Velya nodded her agreement. “He was raised as a stra’tchi, remember? He’s never had any desire to lead or control anyone—only to help the downtrodden. At his core, he’s still a farm kid from Tellek patch, despite his complicated family history.” Endu smiled, openly for once. “If you help us, I’m sure he’ll make you head of House Fisher in his place.”
Heartbane gave her a sardonic look. “Well, as long as you’re sure, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Then talk to him!” Endu urged. “Ask him for yourself, if you don’t believe me. He’s in the Spire, isn’t he? You should be able to get in there and confirm everything we’ve told you!”
For another handful of breaths, Heartbane just looked at them, this time a little more evaluatively and a little less venomously. “You should go,” she finally said. “I’ll discuss this with him myself.”
Endu nodded with a little relief. It wasn’t a full victory, to be sure, but it was definitely progress. “If you decide to help us, go to Tollos patch, by the fountain. Put an ‘x’ on the bench next to it. We’ll proceed from there.”
-.-
“Good morning, sir.” Arico blinked away the last vestiges of his troubled sleep and glanced at the window. Outside the Manor’s guest room, dawn was well on its way. From the doorway, Chulesh looked inside respectfully. “The Lord Ascendant has requested you join him for breakfast on the verandah.”
Arico sighed. The Lord Ascendant hadn’t made a request—he’d given an order as per the ta’sana. Arico couldn’t ignore it. He allowed the servant to help him get dressed, and to assist him with showering, shaving and grooming. With a smile, he remembered Jaas’ reaction to him simply showering next to her. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Ordinarily he would have been embarrassed at needing a stranger to help him with such simple tasks, but things like humiliation were pointless now. So much had happened since that conversation he’d had with Chanul about a dwarven manservant, it felt like he was an entirely different person by now. To his credit, Chulesh was particularly attentive and respectful. No doubt he’d done tasks like this for other Sustained lords, for most of his life.
It had taken some time, but Arico had come to terms with his condition. He needed the help, and he knew it. Even those few hours between sending Jaas and Sabra on their respective paths, and arranging the trade on top of the tower had been difficult.
Still, many Sustained lords and ladies had personal attendants that did just as much for them every day as this one was doing for Arico right now. They didn’t need the help. They were perfectly capable of dressing and bathing themselves. The only reason to have an attendant like that—other than the sexual gratification that was rumored around some of the lords and ladies—was to show superiority. It was sick and pointless, and a waste of both resources and people. Arico’s stomach tightened as he remembered. Wasted people. The trade had been just for Durhu, after all. His other father was dead and gone by now.
He’d known from the beginning that this plan might involve sacrificing the Hauld and Durhu. Those would have been acceptable losses, especially given that Arico would be dead as well, and that the Hauld had given the order. But to lose him before the final moment had even arrived? The Hauld would have hated not being around for the fireworks themselves.
Chulesh applied some lather to his face and gave him a quick and efficient shave. He then pulled out a pair of scissors, but Arico raised an arm to stop him. “Did the Lord Ascendant order a haircut, as well?”
Chulesh shook his head. “Not specifically, sir. I just thought you’d want to look your-”
“Leave it, then,” Arico cut him off. He might as well get this over with. “Let’s go.”
To his surprise, there was one last thing before they went out. Chulesh opened a case filled with metal and wooden hands, each fitted with the same connector on his own wrist-stumps. How the old man had been able to fit them to Arico without examining his wrists… was a mystery. Then Arico drew a deep breath of understanding. They must have found his dwarven prosthetics—the ones he’d left behind before the meeting atop the tower. That would have given them all they needed to make more of their own. It was quick work, though. Even the dwarves had taken several days to build some of their own fake hands.
That meant they’d found the Hideaway. Based on the timeline he and Nemith had set before he’d turned himself in, it should have been abandoned by now. Still, there was no way to know if they all made it out in time. Arico could only hope for the best.
Arico picked a pair of the wooden hands, pretty much based on how light they were. The movable fingers-pair wasn’t here. Probably because it had been made by dwarves and Berilo didn’t want to rely on their work. Arico insisted on wearing a pair of gloves over them, though. At least he’d look normal.
Berilo was already waiting on the terrace above the garden for him. Boiled and scrambled eggs had been laid out, along with bacon, cut potatoes and fruit juice, and Arico’s stomach rumbled. While he did miss dwarven food, and even the more spare meals he’d had back in Tellek patch, he had to admit he was hungry. He waited for the old man to sit down, and then followed suit. When Chulesh took his implements and tried to feed him manually, Arico gave him a glare.
“Just fit a fork and spoon in my hands, and I’ll make do,” he instructed angrily. “Then get out of here.”
Arico immediately felt a flash of shame. The servant was only doing what he’d been trained to do—there was no call to get angry at him. He obeyed quietly, though, showing no signs of distress in response, before leaving just as quietly.
Berilo was smiling faintly at him. “Being in command of others suits you. You wear it well.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” Arico growled, his anger returning. “I’m not a complete invalid, that’s all.”
Berilo nodded understandingly, and set to his own meal.
Arico’s dwarven meals had been similarly prepared. With his old prosthetics he’d been able to eat the food they’d provided without too much difficulty. The same was proving true here, as well. Even his cup had a secure cap to prevent spilling. The old man had probably gone to a lot of effort for all this—which was too bad for him. They ate in silence.
A little while later, the two of them rose and Berilo led the way downstairs, into the garden. “Tell me about your life, Arico,” he said unexpectedly. “About being raised on a farm by Anathdur’hu. About your friends there, and in the Enclave. I know you’ve trained as a commander, and that you’ve seen combat, but I’d like to know more about your interests, or hobbies. Help me to fill in the blanks of what I’ve missed in your life.”
None of that information was restricted by his oath; Arico was compelled to answer truthfully. He did so hesitantly, at first. He described what it was like on a farm—a life he was sure no one in this building or even this patch had any experience living. He talked about his friends, but not by name, and about his training. How he’d been groomed to lead, and to fight, but how he’d never enjoyed either.
No doubt the old man knew most of this already. He had vast resources and spies all over the city. He’d probably put together a pretty accurate picture of Arico from his own sources, but Arico did have to admit he felt good talking about all of this. His friends were all dead or out of reach by now—Berilo was the only person he could talk to. And the ta’sana meant they had to be honest with each other, which was a relief on its own as well.
Speaking of honesty… “I’ll never be like you, you know,” he said abruptly. “I think I know why you’re trying to cozy up to me, but it won’t work.”
“Oh?” Berilo asked quietly. “Why is it do you think I’m doing all of this? Enlighten me, please.”
“It’s simple enough,” Arico turned to face him. “You need me, in several different ways. As your head of house… your eldest son is dead, and your brother is a weakling. Your daughter is murderous and barren. As leader of the city, you have even more problems. Like you said, most of your Ascendants died in the Enclave, as part of the Hauld’s ‘act of madness’. The Council will continue to challenge you, either as a group or individually. In addition, the moment the truth comes out about you being my father, they’ll use that to discredit you. I’d say you have never needed an ally more than you do right now.”
Berilo paused for a moment. “Very insightful. Every point you just made is true, but none of them are relevant. Did it ever occur to you that I’m also just a father trying to be closer to my son? Trying—in any way I can—to make up for lost time?”
Arico snorted. “You said it yourself. Sentiment is the enemy of true leadership. You may want to be a true father to me, but you’d never let that get in the way of your duties as Lord Ascendant.”
“For once those two goals are the same, though!” Berilo said severely. “Yes, I need you as Lord Ascendant, but I can use that need to serve my personal goals at the same time! Aren’t you curious as well, Arico? Don’t you have questions to ask me, in turn?”
“I already know all I want to about you,” Arico said tiredly. “I know that you were such a monster that my mother conspired to get me and my sister away from you, by any means necessary! I know you betrayed your best friend Cartwright, and tried to burn him up in that fire. And worst of all, I know about all the people you’ve killed!”
Arico took a deep breath. “You were right, earlier. The Hauld was the one who destroyed the keep, not you. No matter how responsible you were in pushing him to that choice, in the end it was his choice. You aren’t responsible for all the dwarves who died, but you did kill everyone in Tellek patch. As well as the people who died during your Beast attacks. And worst of all, every child you’ve had murdered over the years, just because they happened to be born as navigators! Face it, Berilo: you’ve gained your power and held onto it by wading through oceans of blood!”
Surprisingly Berilo gave him a quizzical look, ignoring that last bit entirely. “What did you say? About the children, I mean.”
“Don’t bother denying it,” Arico ground out the accusation, barely remembering to keep his voice low. “Tenlor all but admitted it before he died, and I doubt even he would callously kill children without your permission. They were no threat to you, even as navigators! You could have simply arranged for them to be raised in Sustained territory and out of stra’tchi reach, but instead you had Tenlor kill them all! More than anything else, that’s why I could never be like you.”
Suddenly Arico was aware of the similarities to his own actions just after the destruction of the keep—how he’d killed those men simply to keep his secret. He tried not to think about that, as he glared over at Berilo. The sun was rising at their backs, casting shortening shadows across the garden. In the rising light, Arico could see confusion on the old man’s face, fading into determination.
“Come with me, Arico,” Berilo finally said, taking him by the arm. “There are things you need to see.”
