The Dark God: Servant Part 19

They waited for her to continue.

Purity was a handsome woman, but her grief had shattered her. And now her face twisted with what she was about to tell. "In the early autumn of last year the children brought in a young stork with an injured wing. It could not join the others in their flight south, so we decided to nurse it back to health. Sugar and Legs made a pen for it next to the chicken coop and brought it frogs and fish to eat. They loved the excitement of that long dangerous beak.

"It was a smart bird, and a temptation came to me, a forbidden and foolish thing. I wanted to reach out and touch its soul, to see what the mind of this great bird might be like. I'd done it before with other animals and knew how to be careful. Every few generations someone in my family manifests this gift. I'd been taught by my great grandmother. But I had never done this while pregnant. I was only a few weeks from delivering Cotton."

Argoth suspected he knew where the story would end.

Purity continued, "One night while seeking the bird, something in me slipped. I felt it leave. I immediately broke the connection, horrified. But nothing happened. I lay awake at nights worrying what signs would appear. I inspected myself and the bird every day. But there was nothing. Nothing. Then Cotton was born. He was jaundiced, but that's common enough and the yellowing quickly faded in the sun. All seemed right. I convinced myself I had imagined the slipping."

Hogan sighed. "Ah, Purity."

She said, "The bird healed, but would not fly with its kind. It always stayed close by, as if it were one of the family. We stopped feeding it, but it would not leave. And whenever Cotton was outside, it would come down and eye the babe. At first we thought it saw the babe as a tasty morsel, but it never tried to nip. It would only turn its head to eye him and then settle down somewhere close. This went on for weeks, and we just accepted that the bird thought we were his flock. Then one frosty morning I went out to the garden to dig onions. Cotton lay wrapped in the basinet. This bird rose from its perch on the roof and flapped down to join us. But this time I noticed something . . . a sore on its head. Of course, I thought it had been in a fight with some animal, but when I inspected, I saw the bud of an ear. And then hair where feathers should have been."

Purity looked at the floor, desolate. "Cotton's foot had been roughening despite the b.u.t.ters and salves I rubbed onto it. And it was very clear what had happened; my soul hadn't slipped-Cotton's had. I probed, hoping to untangle them, but the two of them had mixed. My honey child"-a dry sob wracked her-"and that bird. I killed the bird, thinking only a small portion slipped and might return to my boy. But Cotton did not heal. He worsened, then died not many days later while lying in the basinet on our kitchen table. I could not bring myself to burn either body."

She did not continue, but Argoth could guess the rest. In despair, she'd buried them together, because her son had been in both bodies. She concocted her kidnapping story. And it would have worked, but then the flood had come and dug up both bodies.

Hogan looked up at Argoth, but they didn't need to say anything. By the Order's law, she should die.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Hogan.

"How could I?" she asked.

Hogan expelled a breath of sadness. "What about this family that was slain? Your story sheds no light there. Is there some dark grove we know nothing about?"

"No," said Purity. "No. I would never."

"You were not supposed to touch souls either," said Argoth.

Purity didn't answer. She didn't sob, beg, or plead.

Hogan shook his head. "How do we redeem you from the Order's law? Especially now that you've been discovered."

"What about my children?" asked Purity.

"They're safe for the moment," said Hogan, his pain showing plainly on his face.

Purity nodded. "Tell them I'm sorry. Tell my children . . ." but she couldn't finish her sentence.

Argoth reached for the tin and then stopped. She wasn't someone who flouted the covenants of the Order. And if they could get her away from this place, if they could give her another chance, he knew great good would come of it. To be sure, there were many covenant-breakers who needed to be put to death. But the good to be achieved by this woman's death was so little compared to what could be achieved by devising a way to help her live.

"She must die," said Argoth. "But I don't believe there is any part of the covenant that determines how soon that must be. In fact, is there not precedence for delaying execution?"

"For a day or two. A week," said Hogan. "But it was expedient in those cases."

"What if I said we could get her out of here?"

Hogan waited for Argoth to continue.

"We could use the sally port," he said. "Tomorrow night. The sally port and then down the cliffs to the sea."

"You can get her past Droz?" asked Hogan.

"I haven't figured that one out yet."

"It's too risky," said Purity. She held her hand out. "Give it to me now."

It was all fine to have strict rules requiring the death of renegade members, but rules could never have prepared him for this. Lords, but this woman had advised him on how to repair the seemingly dead relationship with his own wife. Her strong purpose and wry humor had been invaluable. He couldn't do it.

Hogan's face was grim.

"I have a plan," said Argoth. "Tomorrow night I drug the guards and free you. You dress in the garb of one of the men. I take the drug so they don't suspect me. Then you walk out of here on your own with a report from Droz to the warlord. I will hide another set of clothes. You change into them and as a servant escape through the sally port."

"Except I can't walk on my own," said Purity. "I am one tree. I am not the Grove."

"Then we'll think of something else."

"Please," said Purity. "You risk everything. You risk the lives of my children. If you want to save me, save my children. Give me the poison."

Hogan put a hand on Argoth's shoulder.

Argoth knew what had to be done. The truth was that he and Hogan might sneak her up. Might even get her past Droz. But there were hundreds of men outside. They would not get her past them. And after he and Hogan had failed and lay bleeding out on the stones of the inner court, the clans would hunt and then torture their friends and family.

"Brother," Hogan said. "I shall never forgive myself." Then he reached down and twisted off the lid to the tin. And Argoth couldn't tell if Hogan was saying he would not be able to forgive himself for killing Purity or if he could not forgive himself if he put the rest of the Grove at risk.

Purity reached out, but her wounds prevented her from extending her arm far enough.

Argoth hesitated, looking at the few inches between the tin and her damaged fingers. And then, as if it were someone else's hand holding the tin, he moved it close enough for her to take a pinch of rough powder.

"How much?" she asked.

"Two," he said, his voice miles away. "Two should be more than enough. But it won't be as quick as you would like. We don't want them to link your death to our visit."

"I understand," Purity said. She took a pinch then put her fingers to her mouth. She grimaced at the bitterness, sucked her fingers, then reached out and took another pinch.

Hogan's face fell. He stroked her hair again. "My dear," he said. "My dear, dear-"Something sc.r.a.ped above them. Argoth motioned for Hogan and Purity to be silent and looked up.

Argoth took another tone of voice, as if they had been interrogating her. "There are many more things you must tell us," he said. He stood as if to stretch his legs. "Tonight is the beginning. And your children will reap the reward. But it all depends on what you do tomorrow when we return. It is your choice." He continued in that line as if he were a reasonable interrogator, all the while furtively searching the ceiling. And then he found one of the holes in the ceiling that did not reflect his lamp light back.

It appeared Droz had not been able to contain his curiosity. He was only amazed Droz had waited this long. He made a small motion letting Hogan know they should leave.

"You've been helpful," said Hogan. "Every Koramite will thank you in their hearts." It was a good touch. Argoth only hoped it was enough to fool Droz.

Purity said nothing in reply, only sucked on her two fingers.

They stood and left her there, a n.o.ble and broken woman, and walked back to the door. A lump rose in Argoth's throat, but he pushed it down, hardened his face. At the door a chain hung from the ceiling and connected to a bell in the upper level. Argoth gave it three good tugs and waited. A few minutes later, Droz opened the ma.s.sive door and let them out.

On the stairs, Droz broke the silence. "So did our fish speak?"

Argoth looked at Droz. "We know that the murder of the butcher's family was independent of this woman," he said.

"Goh," exclaimed Droz. "There are two nests then?"

"At the very least," said Argoth. "Of course, we'll have to verify what she said. But if it's true, then it raises many troubling questions."

"What else did you find?"

"I've already thrown you a bone," said Argoth. "The rest is for Lord Shim."

Droz nodded and led them the rest of the way up and out of the tower. Argoth led Hogan past the guards to a deserted place in the middle of the courtyard where they could speak. They didn't want to be up against one of the walls where their words might echo. And even if their words didn't echo, they couldn't know who might be close enough to hear: there were too many crannies and windows and deep shadows. No, it was best to talk in a spot where they could see everything that was to be seen.

Hogan held the reins of his mule. A smattering of clouds had blown in and obscured part of the night sky, but there was still enough light to see most of the courtyard.

"My heart is ash," said Hogan.

Argoth could say nothing.

"We will make a sacrifice," said Hogan, "so that her ancestors may be strong and lead her soul to brightness."

"We shall," said Argoth. A sacrifice of Fire would help her in the world of the dead. But he knew it wouldn't lighten the pain he felt in his chest.

After a few moments of silence, Hogan said, "So, what emptied those bones? Wizards?"

It had always been a wizard's dream to collect the bones of slaughtered animals and deceased humans, to harvest Fire without cost. The soul has departed; so there shouldn't be any power there to resist a harvest of what remained in the bones. Battlefields, slaughter pens, dinner plates heaped with the remains of a meal-they should all be rich with easy Fire. But they weren't. The bones resisted them.

"Either someone has finally discovered how to persuade bones to release their treasure," said Argoth. "Or there's a new power abroad. Either way, it's very powerful."

"Perhaps it's one of the old G.o.ds," said Hogan. "Maybe some of them yet live here."

The ancient stories told of G.o.ds inhabiting many places. In the beginning, the old G.o.ds were servants of the Creators. There were G.o.ds for fish and beasts and trees, each chosen from its own kind. Each G.o.d was taught the lore by the Creators themselves so that they might guide and bless a certain small territory: a vale, a wood, or a group of hamlets.

But the old ones had proved unstable. One never knew if a G.o.d would end up being a curse or a blessing. And so the legends say the six Creators withdrew their presence from them. Regret, of course, did not. In time a new order arose, an order of human Divines who sought to battle the old ones and rule huge territories. Some said the new order began with a group of G.o.ds seeking the ways of the first parents; others said it had nothing to do with the old ones, but had been established by the Creators directly.

Whatever the origin, the new order began to hunt the old G.o.ds. There were many tales of the ancient battles. In the end, the Divines triumphed. They claimed total extermination, yet there were always rumors of old ones that had slipped through the cracks. Could this be one of the old G.o.ds who had survived? Cunning and powerful, gathering strength all these centuries.

"This changes everything," said Hogan.

"It does," said Argoth. "Of course, why Barg? That part makes no sense. He was the key to . . . nothing."

"A mere butcher, a harvest master," Hogan said. He shook his head and looked up at the stars.

"There's someone else that changes the situation," said Argoth. "Lord Shim has been making comments again, but these are not like the earlier ones. These cannot be mistaken. I believe he suspects me, but instead of forming a hunt, he's asked for help. Perhaps this is the opportunity we've been looking for. A chance to come out of the shadows and stand in the sun. We do have the Book and Crown."

"And who can read it?" asked Hogan. "No. We won't risk that."

Hogan was overly conservative. The Book and Crown of Hismayas held many things now lost to the world. It was said that Hismayas, the founder of their order, knew things not even the Glories of this world knew, things given him by the Creators themselves.

"We've discussed this before," said Hogan. "Rushing to harvest only ruins the crop. The Order is not yet ripe."

What would happen if they declared their powers openly and joined with Shim? Some would join. Perhaps many. They might defeat the Bone Faces. But many might also prefer to submit themselves to that rot rather than ally themselves with sleth. Bosser was one of those. He would fight against Argoth, and sooner or later, Mokad would find out; they would send an army to obliterate anyone having anything to do with the Order. The Nine Clans would join with them. But what if Shim were able to gather some to his side?

Back at the tower door a guard yelled; a mastiff snarled and was cut off. There were grunts, the sound of something metal clanging violently into the wall.

Argoth turned and looked at the gate, but the shadows obscured everything.

Something dark sailed across the courtyard. It thudded heavily to the ground not two paces from where Argoth stood. At first Argoth thought it was a pile of rags. He stepped closer. It was not a pile of rags; it was one of the mastiffs that had been guarding the tower door, lying in a broken heap.

A thundering crack sounded at the base of the tower. A dim light briefly shone where the door should be. Argoth thought he heard Droz's roar, but almost as soon as it started, all fell silent again and the light vanished.

There was no moaning that would suggest someone had been injured. No movement. Nothing but moon shadows and the monstrous dog at his feet.

Argoth drew his sword and began to increase the flow of his Fire.

Hogan walked over to the dog and pushed at it with one toe. "She said she wasn't part of a dark grove."

"That is what she said."

Purity had a past with the lore before she came to the Order, just as Argoth did. He had broken all ties with his former masters. Was it possible she had not? "Be ready for anything," Argoth said.

A guard called down from the battlements. "Ho? What's about?"

They ignored the guard.

Hogan took off his mantle and laid it over his saddle. Then he removed the Hog from its bindings. The blade of the weapon shone with a dull gleam in the moonlight.

Before Argoth had taken three steps, he stumbled across three bodies, all of them broken and lying in a heap like the dog. He found a dead guard a few paces farther, and another. When he reached the small wall, he saw the tower door hung ajar.

Someone or some thing with immense power had come through here. Oh, Purity, he thought. Secrets within secrets.

"Breach!" Argoth yelled up to the men on the battlements. "Breach!"

Across the courtyard and upon the battlements, the guards took up the alarm.

16.

In Darkness HOGAN PUSHED THE door open with the business end of the Hog.

Inside two lamps had fallen and spilled their burning oil onto the floor. The light of the flames revealed guards lying in broken heaps. Droz was among them. There was no blood, but the gruesome angle at which he lay told Argoth all he needed to know.

Shouts rose in the courtyard, but Argoth couldn't wait for those men. Besides, they would probably meet the same fate as their comrades. A dreadman might have been able to cause such carnage. But how fast must the man have been moving to dispatch all these men with hardly a sound?