Stillbright by Daniel M Ford

Author:Daniel M Ford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Santa Fe Writer's Project
Published: 2017-01-04T17:47:32+00:00

Chapter 23

An Old Trick

Morning was like a blade to the eyes, a hammered fist to the mind. Allystaire woke up with a start and swung his legs out of the cot, the walls of his tent already letting in bright sunlight.

“Overslept, you old fool,” he said aloud, before forcing himself to stand. Ivar is going to want blood, he thought as he dressed and armed himself for the day. And I may damn well give it to her.

No sooner was he outside than Cerisia, maskless but in formal white-and-gold silk vestments, was sweeping upon him in a rush. Though her lips were painted, her eyes highlighted, and other cosmetics he couldn’t name were applied to her face, there were taut lines along her cheeks from the tension in her jaw.

Fear. She never showed me fear before. She addressed him with a hand laid upon his arm.

“Allystaire,” she said, her voice as tight as her skin, on the far edge of panicked. “What happened last night? I did as you asked and did not leave my tent. But I could feel the power that was unleashed. What did you do?”

He tried to force a cold distance into his face and voice. He found, to his surprise, that it wasn’t difficult.

“I did nothing, Cerisia. What you felt? That was the Will of the Mother. Surely, as observant a plotter and a watcher of men as you did not fail to notice that there were five Pillars to Her altar, and yet you met only four of Her servants? Did you not find that curious?”

That bought him a moment of her stunned silence, and he turned, pulled his arm from her grasp, and began striding away. She crossed the distance with hurried steps and grabbed for him again.

“What will happen to those men? Surely you can’t mean to kill them all.”

“You mean surely I cannot plan to do to them what they would have done to this village?” Allystaire turned on her again. The furnace of anger that had built within him the day before no longer roared as it had, but its embers stirred. “No. I will not do that. There will be no murder done. Yet they will face the Mother’s Justice.”

“You would smear your people’s hands with their blood then, and confirm all the worst fears of my temple, of Braech’s—”

“I do not give a frozen damn for your temple or Braech’s. And as for reddening their hands? No.” He shook his head, took a step closer to her. “Only my own. I will make you this promise—if I sentence any of your would-be murderers to die I will knot the rope or hold the blade. They will die quickly, as mercifully as I can manage. And believe me, Cerisia, I know that work like a smith knows his forge.”

He turned again, only to be brought up short once more as she called out.

“You cannot. I forbid it. They are Fortune’s agents, under my—”

She was brought up short as he whirled around once more, lowering his face towards hers, his cheeks livid with rage.

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