A warriors penance, p.22
A Warrior's Penance, page 22
part #4 of Saga of the Known Lands Series
“Why is there so much evil in the world?” Priest blurted, sounding less like a child with his tutor and more like a victim with his torturer, spouting the answer out in hopes that the pain might stop, if even for a moment.
Ned gave him a small, half-grin, then nodded. “I see you know it. It’s a common enough question, I s’pose, one asked by every man or woman when they see society’s mask ripped away, when they see that their world, everything they know, is built upon foundations and those foundations are trembling, always in danger of coming down. And the answer the man gave me, not with words but by standing the way he did, his nose bloody, in pain, sure, but more than anything defiant, was this: it doesn’t matter.”
“What?” Priest demanded, sounding as if Ned had just cheated him at cards. “What do you mean it doesn’t—”
“The world is what the world is,” Ned said, “and they ain’t no changin’ it. What the clerk with his ink-stained hands made me realize was, that wasn’t the point, not really. The point wasn’t about changin’ or fixin’. Instead, the point, the whole of it, was that given the world was what it was, what was a man going to do about it. Not because he thought it would help, but because it was simply what a man did. And the answer to that was, at least to my way of thinking, whatever he had to. A man can’t fix the world, can’t save it—it’s too big. It’s like a giant, drowning, and a man going to rescue it is only doomed to be pulled down by its struggles and drowned also. No, you can’t save the world, can’t take on the thousands of evils within it. But maybe you can take on one—or two, in the form of street toughs. And maybe you can’t save the world, but maybe you can save a person—a serving girl, perhaps.”
“But…but you said yourself that he was losing,” Priest said. “That they were going to beat him.”
“I did,” Ned said, “and what difference does that make? A man’s worth, I figure—I decided in that moment, or maybe had it decided for me—isn’t in how many victories he’s won, how many notches in his belt. Instead, it’s in what he’s stood for—what he’s been willing to accept and what he hasn’t. Normally, I would have been able to accept the serving girl’s plight without so much as turning around. But just then, I found that…well. I couldn’t.”
“So what did you do?” Chall asked.
Ned shrugged. “As I said, I wasn’t good for much in those days—unless you had a bunch of ale sittin’ around in need of drinkin’. But there was one other thing I’d come to be somewhat of a hand at, and that was bar fights. So I did what I was good at—I took those two boys on, and I beat the shit out of ‘em. And when it was done, I felt good. For the first time in a very, very long time I felt good and never mind the fact that I had a black eye comin’ in and some bruises that’d last for weeks. I introduced myself to the fella—the clerk, I mean—and he gave his name as Robert Palden.”
Chall hissed in a sharp breath of air. “That’s where the two of you met.”
“So it is,” Ned agreed. “Anyway, Rob and I, well, both of us were doin’ a fair amount of bleedin’, but we ended up doin’ a fair amount of talkin’ too.. Spent the whole night at it, I guess, and for the first time since I could remember, I didn’t do any drinkin’. Not that the grateful serving woman wouldn’t have been obliged to bring us free drinks, for she tried it. Robert, he sipped, but I didn’t. Didn’t need to. The drink, you see, I’d just been usin’ it to fill a hole in myself, a hole put there when the Fey came. Problem, o’course, is that while ale has its uses, it’s damned shitty at patchin’ holes, just keeps leak’n’ out, needin’ to be refilled. That night, though, it seemed to me that maybe that hole had closed up on its own, or had at least begun to anyway. We spent hours at it, talked until the mornin’ came and then talked some more. And eventually, all that talkin’ led to a plan and that plan to a purpose.”
“You formed the Crimson Wolves,” Chall said, unable to suppress the awe in his voice, for whatever else he was, the carriage driver was a damned fine storyteller, his words seeming to weave before them a moving tapestry telling the story of what he described.
The carriage driver winced. “Never did care for that name, Robert’s idea, that. But yes, it all began then. Or, at least, the beginning began. A group of like-minded individuals who only wanted to do what the guards would—or could—not, to root out evil where we found it. It was just us at first, but there were more soon enough. Not many, you see, for we were careful, always careful, knowin’ that our strength lay in our anonymity. The next one was an older man, one used to be a soldier in the army but who’d had his sword hand bitten off by a Feyling during the war. It was him who taught us to fight proper, me and the others. We found a place, too, or, well, several. Robert, see, just happened to be wealthy—not a clerk after all, but the son of a rich merchant who’d passed a few years gone and who’d been ink-stained from doing his own ledgers. So anyway, we went lookin’ for places like this one, hidden places where we might not be found and, if there weren’t any such places, well, we made ‘em ourselves.”
“The plague,” Chall said in realization. “You made it up.”
Ned gave him a small smile. “That’s right.”
“But what about the two priests who were here? You can’t tell me you made them up too—I saw them once.”
“No, they were actors, is all. Playin’ a part they had no idea the point of but then with the amount of money Rob paid ‘em, I don’t suppose they much cared.”
“And when they were finished with their job, you got rid of them,” Priest said, frowning.
“That’s right,” Ned said. “Couldn’t have ‘em hangin’ around, could we? Wouldn’t do at all for priests of the Plague Church to be seen sittin’ in some tavern drinkin’, willin’ to tell a story to anyone who’d listen, would it?”
Priest let out a growl at that, and before Chall—still stunned by the callous way which the carriage driver had spoken about killing two innocent men—could say anything, his companion rushed forward. His fist lashed out, lightning-quick, but instead of striking Ned in the face as it should have done, as Chall thought it must, the carriage driver moved to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. He didn’t stop there, though. Instead, he grabbed hold of Priest’s arm, pivoted, spinning so that his back was pressed against the man, Priest’s arm draped over his shoulder. The next thing Chall knew, Priest was sailing through the air to strike the wall hard. The man fell to the ground, dust showering around him. “Sorry about that, fella,” Ned said, sounding sincere as Priest picked himself up. “Another of the folks that joined us, she was a master of unarmed combat. Anyway, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but we’re all on the same side here and—”
“Same side?” Priest growled, stumbling to his feet, running an arm across his mouth where a trickle of blood leaked out.
“What’s his deal?” Ned asked, glancing at Chall.
“His deal?” Chall said. “Oh, I don’t know, I guess maybe he isn’t a fan of killing innocent actors once they’ve played a role you want them to play.”
“Kill them?” Ned said, shocked. “Fire and salt where did you get that idea?”
Priest, who’d started back toward the man, hesitated, and Chall himself blinked. “I…that is, that’s what you said, that you got rid of them, that you couldn’t have them hanging around.”
“Yeah,” Ned said, “we took care of them, as in, as part of the deal, they were forced to leave New Daltenia. I mean, gods be good, we didn’t hurt them, except maybe the aches in their backs from havin’ to heft the bags of coins Robert gave ‘em before they left. The patients too.”
“You mean…you didn’t kill them,” Chall said.
“Of course we didn’t kill them,” Ned said. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve been tellin’ you? We formed our little…our group to do somethin’ about all the evil in the world. Wouldn’t make much sense to start by addin’ to it, would it?”
Priest winced. “Ned, I’m…I’m sorry.”
Ned waved a hand dismissively as if the man attacking him out of nowhere was of no great concern. “Don’t worry about it, just a misunderstanding is all. Anyway, we went on that way for some time, stoppin’ crime when we could, savin’ folks what grief we could and doing everything we could to make it more difficult on the criminals of the city, those who would prey on the weak and the innocent.”
“Including kill them?” Chall asked, glancing at Priest.
“You’re damn right,” Ned said instantly. “And if you expect me to feel guilty about that, you’re to be disappointed. Durin’ the wars, folks came to New Daltenia hopin’ to be safe, thinkin’ to find themselves a new life, and those bastards took advantage of them, robbin’ them of what few possessions, what little coin they had left, and more often’n not leavin’ ‘em dead after it was all done. No, I don’t feel bad for them. We were doin’ good work, not savin’ everybody, but savin’ some. And each one saved made it worth it…at least for a while,” he finished, his face getting a far away look.
“So…what changed?” Chall asked.
“Not what,” Ned said, his voice grim now, “but who. Robert, you see. He changed over those years. You would think that it would make him feel better, seein’ what good we did, those we helped, but it didn’t. Instead, when we managed to excise some small bit of evil from the infection, Robert never noted what we took away, only what was left. Got to where he didn’t think about those we managed to save—instead, he only thought about those we failed. Well, a man can’t live like that, not forever, can’t watch everythin’ around him sour without, sooner or later, starting to sour himself.” He shook his head. “We argued a lot in those days, Robert and me until, one day, when I’d thought he’d finally heard me, that I’d finally gotten through to him. Imagine my surprise, then, when I woke the next day to find out what he’d done.”
“What?” Chall asked, finding himself leaning forward, his eyes wide in anticipation.
“There was a man we’d been following, a criminal, but not just any criminal—an important one. In point of fact, he was a nobleman, one whose connections throughout New Daltenia meant that he was in a unique position to further the criminal enterprise in the city like few others were. Only…not anymore. You see, while I’d been sleeping, and while I had thought that Robert was thinking over our conversation, he’d been busy instead. He went to the man—Lord Banham’s—house, sealed the doors, and burned it down around him.” He sighed, shaking his head sadly. “After that, well…things between us soured pretty quick, and that spelled the end of the Crimson Wolves.”
“But why?” Chall asked. “No offense, Ned, but it seems to me that from what I’ve heard of the Crimson Wolves, brutality was sort of your mission statement, wasn’t it?”
Ned grunted. “It’s true, we didn’t believe in mercy for those who had made their living off victimizing the innocent, and I won’t apologize for it. Only, what Robert did, it went past that. You see, the good Lord Banham wasn’t alone in his home that day—he rarely was. It was the reason we hadn’t moved on him yet even though we knew how dangerous he was, how much trouble he’d caused. A family man, was Lord Banham, and we’d never yet managed to catch him out alone without them. But on that day, Robert decided he was done waiting.”
Chall felt his breath catch in his throat. “You mean…you mean that the man’s family was still inside?”
Ned nodded grimly. “That’s right. After that…well. It’s one thing, preying on predators. Always thought there was something noble about it, about what we done. But after that…well. Safe to say I lost the taste for it. Robert and I quarreled, and he left, along with some few who agreed with his way of thinkin’. That left me and the rest, not that there was anything left, really. We all dispersed, and I never heard about Robert or any of the other Crimson Wolves again. Not, at least, until a couple of weeks ago.”
Chall frowned, glancing at Priest who shook his head. “A couple of weeks? The first we heard about the Crimson Wolves returning was today.”
“The Crimson Wolves have not returned,” Ned said sharply. “They could not have. But tell me, what makes you think so?”
Priest narrowed his eyes. “It is you who needs to explain himself, not us. Now, tell us wh—”
“Enough, Priest,” Chall said, not angry this time only tired. “He’s shared plenty—seems only fair that we’d do the same. Or do you want to attack him for no reason again?”
Priest colored at that, saying nothing, then Chall gave a gruff nod, turning back to Ned and recounting the events that had transpired since he had woken in bed with Maeve.
Ned listened, looking more and more disturbed by the moment. When Chall got to talking about the dead serving girl in the castle, he didn’t look disturbed anymore, but angry. An anger that flashed in his eyes, and looking at it, Chall thought he saw that fury that had driven the man to forming the Crimson Wolves in the first place.
“I see,” Ned growled when he’d finished. “Well, understand that was not the work of a Wolf, not a real one anyway. A Wolf wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“But that’s not true, is it?” Priest asked, not challenging anymore but speaking in a soft, empathetic voice. “After all, a Wolf did do such a thing, according to the story you told us. And not just any Wolf, but the co-founder of the entire organization.
Ned frowned. “That was a long time ago. I haven’t seen Robert in years—no one has. He wouldn’t have come back, not after all that happened. And, if he had, I’d know.”
“Would you?” Chall challenged.
The carriage driver sighed, scratching his chin. “This woman, the one you saw in His Majesty’s chambers, what did she look like?”
Chall described her, trying to be specific as he could, and the carriage driver shook his head. “No, don’t know anyone like that.”
“Are you sure?” Chall asked. “I only ask because the woman did have a ring.”
Ned sighed as if some suspicion he’d had had just been confirmed, and he wasn’t all that happy about it. “Might be I’ve got an explanation for that.”
“Oh?”
The carriage driver nodded. “Remember how I told you that I started thinking something might be wrong a couple of weeks ago? Well, that feelin’ didn’t come out of nowhere. You see, I was workin’ a couple of weeks ago, and someone hired my carriage. Two someones, in fact, a young couple, bemoaning the fact that the priest who had married them had died, apparently in his sleep.”
“So?” Chall asked.
“So,” Ned said, “that priest just so happened to go by the name of Xavier. A pretty unusual name, but you see I knew a Xavier once, many years ago. He was one of the Wolves, if you’d believe it. And I also knew that he ended up, after the Crimson Wolves disbanded, joining the priesthood.”
“But what difference does that make?” Chall asked. “I mean, people die, right?”
“Sure they do—it’s one of those bad habits they can’t seem to shake,” Ned agreed. “And maybe that might have been all it was. Certainly I tried to convince myself of that fact. Only, try as I might, I didn’t quite manage it. You see, Xavier had been a friend of mine, a good man, and I thought that I needed to check into his death, just in case. And, if I’m being honest, that wasn’t the only reason that I went. You see, I’ve spoken to Xavier quite a few times since the disbanding of the Crimson Wolves, enough to know that he always kept his ring hanging from a necklace he wore, a reminder, he told me, of his greatest shame and his greatest success. So I went to where they were keeping his body, along with his belongings, as they prepared for the funeral. I searched them all only to discover—”
“That the ring wasn’t there,” Priest finished.
“Exactly,” he said. “I couldn’t find any marks on Xavier’s body, understand, but he’d been a healthy man, barely older than me, and I had a hard time imagining that he would die in his sleep like that. It didn’t sit well with me, though I couldn’t explain it at the time. Anyway, I’m thinking maybe now I can and that it might explain also where this killer of yours got her ring.”
“But why?” Chall asked. “Why care about the ring at all, I mean?”
Ned shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, back then, we had plenty of people who tried to impersonate us, understand, men and women who were either sick of all the evil in the world the way we were or, more often than not, ones trying to use our reputation to benefit themselves. It was the reason we came up with the rings in the first place. Only those that possessed one could truly consider themselves—or truly be considered—a Wolf.”
“All of this still doesn’t explain why you were following Catham.”
“No, but it will,” Ned said. “You see, as I mentioned, I didn’t feel good about Xavier dying that way—seemed unusual to me, and I told myself I’d at least look into it, find out what I could. I did so thinking that I would find that there was nothing, that all my suspicions about the reasons why the ring might be gone were just my fears, fears that my old life would come back to take what pleasure I’d found in the new one, fears for Emille. So I decided to look into his death a bit. Started by talking to those who came to see him, his flock, as it was. Those who sought him for guidance. I spoke to the young couple too and anyone else I could find that had dealt with him recently. I asked everybody that came to see him, trying to figure out where the ring went, trying to figure out if his death was innocent. The problem, though, was that Xavier had led a lonesome life. Finally, I found a fellow priest of his, one who he was as close to as anybody else, and I asked him. About the ring, I mean. And do you know what he said? He said that it had been taken, by Xavier’s brother.”
“And…that bothered you?”
“I’ll say it did,” Ned agreed with Chall. “The biggest reason being, you see, that I’d known Xavier for years. Why, we’d both stayed here, in this exact cavern, for quite some time. You stay in that close quarters with someone for any length of time—anyone—and you start to learn things about them. Things like Xavier hated snakes—had a real fear of them. Things like he had a scar on his back from where he’d been beaten nearly to death by the headmaster of the orphanage at which he’d been abandoned when he was just a kid. Things like the fact that Xavier didn’t have a brother.”
