Arumin
against Belith’s skin. He had half expected the crowd to charge at him, but so far, no one had moved. “I’ve brought you what you need,” he called. “Let’s discuss what you can do for us.”
The people watched, breathless. Many had seen the bishop since his capture, but they still looked as if they were watching a ghost.
“What if we’re not interested?” called Rayan.
“I’ll carry out the sentence this heretic deserves.”
Rayan smiled. “I think you’ve been deceived, Commandant. Has Belith been telling you she’s important?”
“If she isn’t, do what you will to me.” Arumin kept his tone casual. “She’ll die, but no matter. Then you can kill me however you choose. You’ve all dreamed of it, I’m sure.”
No one moved.
“Bishop.” Shada spoke softly, commandingly. “Let her go. This is not the way.”
“Be at peace, Caretaker,” said Arumin. “These people have twisted your mind. It’s not your fault. They held your life in their hands. But that’s over now. You’re free.”
Shada appeared baffled. “You’ve got this wrong. Please, stop.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“So do I!” She stepped forward. “I speak for the Lady, and I’m telling you—”
“Stay back,” Arumin shouted, “or I’ll give your new friend what she deserves!”
Shada halted.
The bishop gentled his voice. “Dear, you speak for the convicts right now, whether you think so or not.” He was not sure that was true, but the Lady must be on his side. She must. “You have to trust me.”
“Bishop…” she began, but she glanced at Belith and stopped. Bold as she was becoming, she would not risk this damnable woman’s life.
Rayan interjected, his tone agreeable. “I suppose she must live for the moment. She has something we need. You need it too, Commandant, though you don’t know it. Do you remember your old flute?”
A ray of memory struck Arumin like sunlight through storm clouds. He remembered the flute, all right. He forced himself to laugh. “My flute?” But his mocking tone sounded forced, even to him.
“Of course you remember. We all do. Its music, drifting down from up on these walls. So many lived and died to that sound.”
“I recall it.” The bishop was confused and off balance. “A trivial thing to fight over.”
“You couldn’t have liked it much, since you left it behind,” said Rayan. “Then again, you fled this place in a hurry.”
Arumin did not flinch. That barb had pierced him many times. “Why that flute, of all things?”
“Its sound will call off the wraiths,” said Drucin. “It’s a long story.”
Arumin’s eyes jumped around and landed on Shada. At first, she looked afraid for his safety, but then he realized she was actually afraid for Belith.
“It’s true,” she said.
Despite his suspicions, he had little choice but to believe her for now. He lowered his head to Belith’s ear. “Whisper it to me, old woman. Where is the flute?”
Belith gazed at him, her eyes unfocused. She whipped her head away and screamed for all to hear, “It’s under the vines, you bastard!” She sagged, exhausted.
“She’s lost her mind,” Rayan concluded. “You said it yourself, Drucin. She isn’t the same.”
Shada gasped. “I know where it is! She keeps a vine plant in her room. Is that it, Belith?”
The woman did not answer. She might not have heard.
“I saw the vines,” said Neery with a grimace. “She’s been poisoning herself.” He looked at Belith mournfully.
“If you know where it is, get it!” Rayan demanded.
But Neery showed no intention of leaving. He sent the other guard, a thin boy who thought better than to argue.
“That’s that, Commandant,” said Drucin. “You can gain nothing more from Sister Belith except our favor for letting her go.”
Arumin tightened his grip on Belith. She had nearly drowned him, and now they wanted him to release her. “Why would I trust a convict’s word? You fancy yourself taking charge next, I’ll wager.”
Drucin grimaced. “Nothing would please me less. Release her, and you might live. That’s all.”
“I haven’t finished. If you value her life, release me and my company. Give us our wagons and supplies and set us free. You’ll have no more to fear from us.”
Rayan giggled like someone much younger. “Do you really still hope to leave? Your company may survive if I allow it. But you are finished, Commandant.”
Cornered, fighting panic, Arumin shook Belith. “Not before I send this pitiful old thing to the dark.”
Rayan tensed, bending his knees, ready to rush at Arumin. “Do what you must.”
The bishop saw no way out. He would face whatever came. Trembling, he said, “Come on then. Let Huire’s will be done.”
Before Rayan took two steps, Neery knocked him down. Springing up, Rayan found Neery standing in his way.
Eyes blazing, Rayan called to the crowd. “This one has made his choice. He has defied me, his leader.”
Neery replied thoughtfully. “When we took over the prison, you said we’d have no leaders.”
Finding no support in the crowd, Rayan shouted, “It’s not my fault that dream ended. It was all of you. You chose her!”
“The dream ended with you. Belith has killed, but she’s never lied,” said Drucin. “I’ve found I prefer that.”
Rayan stepped here and there as if the ground was giving way. “Let’s see if she’s honest now. Belith, who should they choose, you or me?”
Belith didn’t move.
Arumin could not feel her breathing. “I’ll have to speak for her, I’m afraid,” he said grandly. “She’s been feeling a little—”
Belith gasped, “Forget me!”
The bishop pulled her head back and pushed his knife.
“No!” Drucin cried. His voice cracked. “What do you want?”
Arumin drew the knife back a little. Belith’s neck bled, but the cut was not deep.
Rayan stared at Drucin in unabashed horror.
Drucin said, “You and your people can leave, Arumin. You’re a monster, but I think your time is nearly over.”
Arumin was triumphant. “Get my men out of those pits.”
“In a moment. First, we need to find the flute.”
“Bring them up. Now!” The last word rang like a gunshot.
Drucin exchanged glances with his neighbors. “What do you say, Brother Nor?”
“The bishop won’t trouble you again,” said Nor. “You can trust him that far.”
Drucin spoke quietly to the others. People dispersed to arm themselves and open the pits. Rayan had been watching in silent disbelief.
“This is insane,” he cried. “You’re going to release the man who worked our friends to death, who stalks in our nightmares.” He stabbed a finger at the bishop. “He’s right there! Revenge is ours. The only price is the life of another killer. Belith has earned her fate.”
“Haven’t we all?” asked Drucin softly. “You have, Rayan. But we’re still here.”
The young guard returned with the flute. He walked unsteadily, bent over, his sleeves ripped and his hands and forearms swollen and bloody.
“Bring it here!” said Rayan.
The boy walked across the courtyard toward the gate, passing Arumin and Belith. His pace was meandering, and his face was red with pain.
“Stop right there, boy,” Arumin called. “Come to me.”
The young man halted and looked back at the bishop. His will seemed hardly his own. Seeing his hesitation, Rayan strode toward him. This time, Neery followed.
“No! Back!” The words tore from Arumin’s throat, and his knife twitched.
Neery stopped and held Rayan back with his arm. His eyes darted, assessing the distance to Arumin.
“Give it to me,” Arumin commanded in a voice that could shake a temple.
“You’re winning, Commandant,” said Drucin. “Don’t spoil it now.”
“I won’t spoil anything,” the bishop replied. “I want to play a few notes.” His old Gallobrethi accent had slipped out.
“Damn you,” said Rayan, still behind Neery’s arm. “No more. You’ve had your mercy, but no more.”
The young guard held the flute in both hands. Tears ran down his face.
Arumin spoke gently to him. “Do you want her to be safe?”
The boy’s head bobbed up and down, making him appear even younger.
“She’s been hurting herself, you know,” Arumin said. “Judging by your hands, you know how she feels. Don’t you want her to get better?”
“Fool,” said Rayan, “she’s already dead.”
The young man took heavy breaths. Arumin continued. “Of course you wish to help her. Bring the flute to me.”
The pain in the young man’s arms must have flared. He bent and cried out, then touched one hand gingerly with the other. Seeing Shada, he gasped, “How long has she done this to herself?”
He turned to Arumin. With a few quick steps, he offered the flute to the bishop.
Arumin snatched it, dropping Belith. The woman fell to her knees and slumped until her forehead met the ground. He put his boot on her neck.
“Stay back or I’ll snap this in half.” Gripping his knife with two fingers, the bishop held the flute with a hand on either end. “I’ll play one last song. What notes will call off the wraiths?”
“Anything,” muttered Rayan. “They remember its sound.”
Amid desolate silence, Arumin stowed the knife and raised the flute’s lip plate to his mouth. Its body pointed to his right, where his fingers fell naturally on the proper holes.
Chest aching with the effort, the bishop played his favorite tune. He had learned it long ago as a ballad. Over the years, he had altered a note here and there and slowed the tempo. The tune had become a creature of his own creation, graceful, relaxed, and endlessly cruel. Recalling it, Brin had claimed he could not hold the entire melody in his mind at once.
By the time it ended, the crowd had huddled closer together. Drucin had crossed his arms and turned his face down to the mud.
Arumin lowered the flute. “No one has cleaned this,” he said.
Something pushed the back of his legs. He looked down with surprise as he fell to the courtyard floor. Belith lay with her arms around his ankle, her shoulder resting on his calf where she had pushed him.
Neery reached the bishop first, followed by Rayan and many others. At first, they tried to hold him in place, but the action quickly became violent. Arumin curled under a rain of boots and fists.
“Enough!” cried Belith. The bishop opened his eyes to see people lifting her clear of the melee. She struggled against the reassuring hands and voices.
The attack on Arumin ground to a halt as others echoed her call. Belith shook her head and tried to laugh but only coughed. She managed to say, “This won’t work.”
Looming over the bishop, Rayan sneered. “Oh? What do you suggest?”
“Shut up,” said Drucin. “Sister Belith, what should we do?”
Belith turned her head this way and that, smiling faintly. Her smile faded. She was looking at Shada, who had come to stand over the bishop, staring down at him with sad eyes and open mouth.
“Bring up the captain,” Belith said. “It’s time to talk.”
Stone pressed against Arumin’s cheek. Nearby, flies buzzed over puddles of drying blood. As one last boot fell on him, he wondered where Brin was.