Mother of Lies

FABIA CELEBRE

could hear the hunter’s breath behind her. Not literally. She was still sitting in the grass with her three brothers, but with her fingertips dug into the cold earth she could sense the Old One sending her warnings. She knew now why Dantio had told her all this. He was clever, her eldest brother, and she was being hunted.

She said, “And what did you discover at Zorthvarn?”

On other islands, riverfolk were singing. They would not be doing that if they knew how many Heroes were camped nearby, or that a horde might be on its way.

“Not much.” Dantio had talked himself hoarse. “I found some old-timers who remembered an evil man called Hrag. He was suspected of being a Chosen, so the village drove him out, him and his daughter. No one remembered her name, or knew where they went.” Even in the darkness, his bitterness showed sometimes, in a quaver of voice, a tightness. His prayer that the gods would let him watch Saltaja die seemed very reasonable now.

The night was windless, very quiet. Voices murmuring around the campfires at the far end of the clearing seemed scarcely louder than the whine of insects and the occasional plop of a fish jumping.

“No wife? Hrag had no woman?”

“No.”

“And what happened to Hrag in the end?”

“Nobody knows. He may still be around.”

“Is Saltaja the satraps’ sister or their mother?” rumbled Benard, a human boulder in the darkness.

Dantio said, “Possibly both. I heard old gossip that it was indications of another child about to appear that resulted in their banishment.”

That felt right to Fabia. Incest was horrible enough to make sense in this grim, chthonic situation.

Ever wary, Orlad said, “And why have you been entertaining us with all this?” He could sense the prowler too.

“I’ll tell you why,” Fabia said. “Because Horold is camped downstream and the seer he has with him is Tranquility, or Dantio thinks she is.”

“It is known,” Dantio said sadly. “It is she. She did not come with him willingly, for she is the only Witness there and she is not veiled. She stayed in the boat tonight, did not go ashore.”

“She must be chained, then.” Benard was plodding his way through the mental thicket. “She was at Kosord when you left?”

“Yes.”

“Horold has a vile temper. If he forced her-struck her, say-the others would know, and flee, yes? Without their veils they would just be women of the palace. Hmm! And he couldn’t round them up in advance, because they would know his men were coming? So he just got one.”

Orlad made a scoffing noise. “Our Hand is a tactical genius. My darling Fabia, the family seer is hinting that we owe him a good turn or two. He wants us to go and rescue the old bag-head.”

The riverfolk finished their song. Another started farther away and was picked up by closer camps in unison.

Dantio said, “I must try to rescue her, yes. I have no choice, brother. Even a half-man like me cannot deny the sort of debt I owe Tranquility. How can I leave her there when I expect Arbanerik’s men to attack before dawn? Abandon her to die in the massacre? If any of you will help me, I will be very grateful. I do not deny that the attempt will be dangerous.”

“Suicidal you mean,” Benard growled. “I decline. I understand your debt, brother, but I have a lover and unborn child to consider. When Horold finds out your seer is gone, he will overrun the islands looking for her. Then he will find Ingeld.”

“And find you,” Orlad said. “Ah, the wages of adultery! And the wages of sympathy. Let’s hear the plan first and collapse in mirth after.”

Paradoxically, Dantio said “Oh, you wonderful, adorable brother!” as if the Werist had already promised to help. He must be reading the inside of Orlad’s head. “Their camp’s spread over three islands. The boats are beached, eighteen or twenty of them. Tranquility’s in one near the middle, with two Werist guards. I have to assume they’ll be asleep. It’s a dark night, isn’t it? We slip aboard, cut two throats. Launch the boat, then push it up- stream-the channels are shallow enough to walk in. When it’s missed, Horold will assume it’s drifted downstream.”

Benard snorted. “No, he won’t. He looks like a pig, he stinks like a pig, but he thinks a little better than your average hog. He’ll see where you pushed the boat off. Riverfolk pull boats high enough that they don’t just float away.”

“Well said, Bena!” Orlad said. “Our seer is talking wind. You prayed Fabia out of the dungeon last night. Can’t you pray one old woman out of a camp full of Werists tonight?”

“Don’t blaspheme.”

“You avoid the question?”

“No. The answer is no. I can’t.”

The Werist still mocked. “Dear Dantio, even our rock-basher brother can see that you are gibbering mad. How many sentries overall? You really think that the two guarding the prisoner will be asleep? Then you don’t know Heroes. You really think you can cut their throats without making any noise? The best two cuts out of three? Or push a boat off unnoticed and unheard? You’re not that stupid! What god do you pray to, Fabia?”

Benard grunted, “Huh?”

“What do you mean?” Fabia said, more shrilly than she intended.

“It wasn’t Dantio’s brains they cut off,” Orlad said. “He needs a couple of strong-arm men. That explains us, but why are you here? Why include you in this conspiracy? Answer!”

She had distrusted the eldest brother and underestimated the youngest. He was more than just brute carnivore. She felt a chill of panic. “No! No, I won’t!”

“Thank you for that answer.” Orlad sounded very smug. “Bena can’t help. He’s got his doxy to comfort and he makes more noise than dueling thunderstorms. I’ll go with Dantio if you’ll come too.”

“Me?” Her voice cracked.

“I might even vote for you as dogaressa.”

Dantio laughed.

Benard had his penetrating artist’s gaze locked on her. “Are you?”

“If I were, would I tell you?”

“You just did,” Orlad said. “How powerful are you? Can you curse? How’s your evil eye?”

“Stop it!” She scrambled to her feet and looked down at her three brothers, six eyes in the gloom. “You mustn’t say such horrible things about me! People might believe them.”

“You could be a big help to us. Or not.”

“Leave her alone,” Dantio said. “Saltaja stinks of evil. Fabia doesn’t.”

“Not yet, you mean?” Benard muttered.

She fought for calm. Orlad was threatening to denounce her. She had escaped from Satrap Therek’s dungeon and that would be enough evidence to rouse a Vigaelian mob against a woman with black hair and brown skin.

She said, “I’ll sleep on it. If any of you do decide to commit suicide, I hope you’ll wait until just before dawn, so the rest of us can escape before the satrap gets here. Just before the rebels arrive would be even better.”

Trembling, she stalked away. She had not handled that well. If she was to serve the Mother of Lies, she must learn to lie better.