Chapter XXIV

“Tell me the truth, Husam! Why did you kidnap the children from the south. Speak!”

Husam had been beaten, humiliated, and starved. Each time Queen Aryn asked him what he was up to he would simply mutter a prayer under his breath. Aryn couldn't tell if he prayed for deliverance or for forgiveness of his sins. Either way, whatever he said was not helpful. By this point Milo, Sarahi, and Shamira all wanted nothing to do with Aryn's interrogations. They'd told her she was going to extremes, that she'd become obsessed with finding out Husam's motives. “Sometimes people are just mad,” Sarahi had told her. Aryn didn't want to hear it. There had to be more to it than that. If Husam was just a killer then she could believe that he was just plain mad, but he'd kidnapped and enslaved children, there had to be a specific motive, and she wanted to know what it was. Something in her gut told her the true motive was important.

Other than the dungeon guards, the only one of her friends who would help her in this interrogation now was Tamas. In spite of the fact that she'd locked him in one of the cells of the dungeon he harbored no ill will towards her, and believed in her mission. “Countess Yael killed children, that assassin murdered Paolo even though he was just a boy, and this Marquis Husam enslaved children? The young have suffered enough in Arx, it's time to do something about it!” Tamas told her.

With Husam's refusal to talk to her, or to the dungeon guards, she felt it was time to turn to someone else to get answers, and since Tamas had gotten answers from the assassin he seemed the perfect candidate to get Husam to talk.

“You want me to get him to tell you why he did it?” Tamas asked.

“Yes, I want to know what's going on in that twisted mind of his,” Aryn said.

“Who cares why bad people do bad things. They're bad people, that's all there is to it sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Aryn agreed. “But not this time. I have a feeling in my gut that something big is going on.”

“Fine! Fine. You said he was already beaten and starved?”

“Yes.”

“And he still didn't talk?”

“No,” Aryn said.

“It's only been a few days since his arrest, so he's not starving enough to be desperate, but the fact that he's not responding to torture means we need to try a different tactic...” Tamas considered it for a while. “He hasn't seen me yet, I don't think. Throw me in the cell next to him. Make me look like I'm a prisoner too, then maybe he'll talk to me.”

“You want us to use makeup to give you a black eye or something?” Aryn asked, smirking.

“No, makeup won't do. He'll be able to tell it's fake. I'll need an actual black eye.”

“I was joking about the black eye thing...” Aryn said, uncomfortable with the turn this was taking. “Really, we can just throw you in the cell next to his and he'll believe...”

“If you don't want him to be suspicious it needs to be as convincing as possible. I'll need torn clothes, a black eye, maybe even a bleeding lip,” Tamas said. “Do you want to get the answers or not?”

So Aryn had some of her dungeon guards find another prisoner's clothes for Tamas and then beat him about the face, just enough to give him a few minor bruises. Aryn wasn't fond of the idea of having him beaten, but she had to agree that it seemed to be the best way to ensure that the deception worked.

The guards threw Tamas into the cell next to Husam and spat at him, “Rot in there, you disgusting filth!” they said, slamming the door shut and locking it.

“So what did you do to piss them off,” Husam asked, smirking and shaking his head.

Tamas forced himself up off of the ground, wiping the blood from his lip and rubbing the bruise under his eye. “I called the Queen a tyrant.”

“I didn't realize it was a crime to speak blatantly obvious truths,” Husam said, laughing.

“Only if the Queen doesn't like them,” Tamas said.

“You must be a knight, the way you talk. Commoners don't speak as well as you do,” Husam said.

“Aye, a knight. Sworn to defend the capital city, but my sacrifice meant little once the Queen heard about what I said. I bled for the realm! But all of that means nothing in the eyes of Queen Aryn.”

“God has heard our pleas for a new ruler, my friend,” Husam said, scooting closer to Tamas, and gesturing for Tamas to move closer to him so that he could whisper. “He's sending us a new Queen, one who will replace Aryn.”

“How do you know that?” Tamas asked.

“God has told me, in vision after vision. At first I thought they were just dreams, but they kept repeating. Have you ever heard the story of the ancient Tunnels of Gan?”

“I'm not familiar with that story, no,” Tamas said.

“Legend goes that centuries ago a warlord of Sabura came into the southern edge of Arx and began forcing laborers to dig a tunnel deep under the ground. They say he had a way of suppressing, holding back liquid stone, and could dig all the way down to Heaven. He planned on leading an army down there to capture Heaven, so that he could become its new ruler. For his arrogance God punished him, collapsed part of the tunnel on him.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds familiar,” Tamas lied.

“Well, here's the thing, God told me that he did not punish the warlord for attempting to dig to Heaven, but rather because of what he was planning to do once he arrived. God told me that he wanted me to pick up where the warlord left off. Most of the tunnels were still in tact. He told me to continue the dig, and to force the descendants of that warlord to do the hard work.”

“Why did he want you to continue the dig?”

“He's going to unleash his angel armies upon Erets, backing the rightful Queen of Arx, and restore peace to the land forever!”

“So...you enslaved a bunch of children from Sabura because God told you to, because he needs you to open a path for his angels?”

“Yes, that's right...wait...when did I tell you the laborers I took were children?”

Tamas turned to the guards, “I'm done. Got what I needed to know.”

“What the?” Husam stared in disbelief as the guards opened the cell door for Tamas and helped him out and to his feet. “You tricked me!”

“You weren't talking,” Tamas said. “If you don't like deception be more forthcoming next time a queen asks you a question. She wanted to know why you enslaved all those children, what you were up to. Now I can tell her the truth, you're a complete nutter!”

Aryn was ready to greet Tamas as he came to the top of the stairs. She leaned against the wall with her arms folded. “How did it go?”

Tamas wiped some of the blood from his lip and rubbed the bruise under his eye, “It was worth the beating.”

“Did he tell you why he enslaved the children?”

“He's trying to dig his way to Heaven.”

Aryn raised an eyebrow. “Funny. No, really, why was he kidnapping children.”

“I'm serious.”

“What?”

“I know. That answer's less than satisfying, isn't it?”

“What kind of raving lunatic...Agh! Forget it. Thank you, Tamas. You sure know how to get results.”

Tamas shrugged. “In a world this harsh you have to sin a little if you want to protect the people you care about. Part of why the Paladin's oaths are rather silly, really.”

“Who are you protecting?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you have to sin if you want to protect people you care about,” Aryn said. “When you agreed to help interrogate the assassin I thought you just wanted revenge because he killed Paolo, whom you were sworn to protect. Now you're helping me interrogate people who had nothing to do with Paolo's death. Why?”

“Because I'm protecting you,” Tamas said. “Paolo loved you. Sure, you tried to discourage that, but he loved you none the less. That being said...he'd want me to look after you. I know he would.”

“How much are you willing to risk for me, Tamas?” Aryn asked. “While you were in there interrogating Husam, I learned that the soldiers I sent to apprehend Mahla lost her trail. Some scouts, later on, reported seeing the Dunn Banner mercenaries, Mahla's knights, on the move to Migdal. The count of Migdal and his knights escorted them. The nobility are throwing their lot behind Paolo's killer, and they probably believe my attempt to arrest Mahla to be nothing more than false accusations, made as part of a greedy attempt to hold onto a throne they think should not be mine. We heard the assassin name her as his patron, though, they did not.”

“So?”

“There's going to be a war soon, Tamas. A civil war. Unless the Council removes me from power, which they probably will not, the noble houses will be going to war, most of them backing Mahla as their queen. I'll have support of the peasants, most of whom have never held a sword before, and of the Church, which is hardly enough of a military power to make up the difference.”

“And?”

Aryn stared at him for a moment, “Shall I rephrase it? I might not win this war, and people close to me will become targets!”

“The King of Uvino will want his son avenged. When your messengers arrive in his city and tell him not only of his son's murder but also that the noble houses of Arx plan on installing his killer as queen he'll certainly join in the war, backing you,” Tamas said. “And what do you think he'll order me to do when that time comes? He'd probably put me on the front lines as punishment for failing to protect his son.”

. . .

Tassos awoke in the catacombs beneath the capital city of Aius. He found himself lying amongst the bones of countless other murderers and criminals, all who had been executed. Apparently this was where they dropped the bodies of those condemned to die; no proper burial, neither were they cremated as with Nihilite funerals, no, they were simply dropped into tunnels beneath the city. Tassos was certainly glad they hadn't buried him under the dirt, it was always so difficult to dig his way out. As he rose to his feet, his neck ached, but he still silently thanked the Father for bringing him back from the dead again. He'd have to make sure to take the lives of a few more wicked men, especially after he'd cut a young life like Paolo's so short.

Tassos looked down at himself and realized that they'd taken his clothes, likely in order to give them away to the poor people of the city, the beggars and such. He'd need to find new clothes as soon as possible.

Following the direction the rats were going, Tassos came up to the surface, into the capital city's streets. It was the middle of the night, thankfully, but he was still naked, and that didn't help him keep a low profile. The few people walking the streets either stopped to stare at the strange, sickly-looking, nude man who had just climbed out of the catacombs, or averted their eyes, trying to look at literally anything else.

Tassos approached one of the people who had stopped to stare, a priest wearing a long cloak over his white and blue robes. “Pardon me, father,” Tassos said, “But I was robbed and left for dead in the catacombs. Please, may I have your cloak to cover my loins?”

The priest said to him, “My cloak? Well, certainly, but you shall have much more than that! Come with me.” The priest threw his cloak over Tassos' shoulders. It was long enough so that if Tassos pulled it closed it concealed his nakedness to the eyes of passersby.

The priest led Tassos back to the Grand Cathedral, and to his quarters. “I'm going to give you one of my robes. You may keep it,” the priest said as he dug through his closet. He produced a priestly robe and gave it to Tassos. “Just know that if you attempt to pose as a priest you'll likely be arrested for that.” The priest then pulled out a small bag full of coins. “Here. I keep this in reserve in case anyone comes by who is in need. If you were robbed you'll need this to get back on your feet.”

“Thank you, father,” Tassos said, taking both the robe and bag of coins and giving another bow. He threw the robe over himself. It was just a little small for him, given how much taller he was than the priest, but it worked for the time being, until he could find better clothes.

. . .

“Grigori? Are you awake?

Grigori awoke in his cell in Duke Sahar's castle, formerly Duke Jachai's castle. He'd been half-asleep on an old, moth-bitten blanket thrown on the hard, stone floor, trying to ignore the smell of mildew in the cell's corners, and the sound of rats as they scurried around. When his eyes came into focus he saw a young man with platinum blonde hair standing over him, dressed in an expensive suit of armor, polished and obviously brand new.

“Sahar?”

“Aye,” said Sahar as he knelt so that his face was closer to Grigori's. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. That's part of the point of these cells, isn't it?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Are you?” Grigori sighed. “Where's his Excellency? I need to explain to him that there's been a mistake.”

“His Excellency, Grand Duke Jachai, was the one who had you thrown in here,” said Sahar. “Duchess Liat was murdered, drowned in her bathtub. His Excellency believes you are responsible.”

“What? Liat's dead?”

“Aye. Now, tell me,” Sahar leaned in closer and looked Grigori in the eye, “Was it you who drowned her?”

“NO!” Grigori said. “I didn't even know she was dead until just now!”

“Good,” Sahar said. “I believe you.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“I may not have known you long, but I've known you long enough to know that if you had murdered her it would have been because you discovered that she was the one who made the blackstar talisman I found, in which case you'd have no reason to hide it.”

“Oh...that's true...”

“But I can't let you go. You see, I'm duke of this castle now, but I'm only the Duke because Jachai named me his heir, which means he has final say over what I do, any decision I make. He had you thrown in this dungeon because either he totally believes you are guilty, or because...” Sahar licked his lips, hesitated, and then continued, “Or because he killed Liat himself, and he wants you to take the fall for it.”

“WHAT?” Grigori couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He knew the marriage between Jachai and Liat wasn't a happy one, but he never imagined Jachai would murder her. “What possible reason could he have to kill her?”

“Well, when he found out you and his wife were sleeping together he was upset, there's a shock. Did you think no one would find out about that?”

“What are you talking about?” Grigori asked.

Sahar frowned at him, “Don't give me any more reason to doubt your honesty, Grigori. I found the love letter in your room...well, 'love letter' is a polite way of putting it. The one written in Liat's hand-writing that detailed all your depraved sexual acts? I presented it to his Excellency thinking he was going to divorce her, but...oh God...no one deserves what happened to her.”

“I wasn't having sex with Liat!”

“Then who was the love letter to?”

Grigori thought for a moment, tried to figure out what love letter Sahar was talking about, then a thought occurred to him. “Did the letter have a number at the top? 41?”

“Well...I think so...”

“You idiot! That was part of a story she was writing! A page that fell out when I was proof-reading it for her!”

“If she was writing a story why wouldn't she tell her husband about it?”

“Because it was an erotic love story, hence the letter! Look at me, Sahar, look at me! Look at my gaunt features, the bags under my eyes, my scrawny arms, my round gut. You really think that if a woman as beautiful as Liat was going to have an affair it would be with someone who looked like this?”

Sahar looked him over, noting the lines on his face, all the signs which told him that Grigori had not well taken care of himself over the years. Even scarred and disfigured as he was, Jachai was bound to be more attractive than Grigori, he at least had muscle definition in his favor. “That makes some sense. Then this is all a horrible misunderstanding...oh God!” Sahar fell to his knees as a horrible thought hit him. “It's my fault! I read the letter and assumed it was a love letter from her to you, I presented it to Jachai that way...and then he...oh no...no! It's my fault!” Tears began to pour from Sahar's eyes, and his breathing became erratic. He beat his fist on the ground. “God! Please forgive me! Please forgive me what I've done!”

“Sahar! Stop that! You've not done anything wrong!” Grigori said. “Did you drown Duchess Liat?”

“No! I would never-”

“Then you've done nothing to feel sorry for,” Grigori said. “You've got to let me out of this cell, Sahar! You have to! I can tell Queen Aryn what's gone on here, she'll launch a real investigation and bring Duke Jachai to justice!”

“I'm not so sure she can...he's the Grand Duke now, head of the military, leader of the largest army in all of Arx.”

“You think he'd start a civil war over this?”

“I...” Sahar shrugged. “I'd like to think the man I spent the last several years of my life training under is better than that, but I also know how much he hates the Queen.”

“We can't just let him get away with this,” Grigori said. “But...it also occurs to me that we have no proof, only suspicion.”

“Reasonable suspicion, but suspicion only,” Sahar said.

“Perhaps you could let me investigate the murder and I could see if I can find any damning evidence?”

“If I let you out of this cell he's sure to hear about it, and if he hears I've let you out he may take steps to silence you. I'm sorry, Grigori, but for the time being, until I can come up with a better solution, you'll have to stay here. If I release you you're a dead man!”

“If you hold me here sooner or later he's going to want me executed, you know.”

“I won't let that happen, my friend. Have some faith in me. I just need time to find a solution.”