XXI. Doubt

It was surprising how easily the Năluci forgave them once it was learned that they were enemies of the Princes of Iron. Orobas's endorsement didn't hurt them either. The camp was permanent enough that it might be called a village, though it was all hide tents. Bonfires offered warmth to the inhabitants, their smoke perfumed from herbs added to the fire to drive away the bugs. Holland could smell cooking meat and felt her sore stomach rumble.

Reverent eyes followed the hulking figure of the Horned King and his guests. The welcome was tentative, but people quickly relaxed. For such shy people, however, there were definite marks of hardness. Holland had yet to see anyone over the age of thirteen or so who didn't bear the scars of war. Weapons were omnipresent, mostly falchions, glaives, and small knives made of bog iron. Curious children clustered around Vladan quickly, trying to guess what he was. It amused the big anthroparion to no end.

"Gods," Khagra muttered when she watched a few of the smaller children start to scale Vladan like squirrels on a tree. "The big brute's certainly made himself popular. I'd better go keep an eye on him."

"Enjoy," Holland said dryly, taking a seat next to Ardashir on the ground near one of the fires. It was at least warm, even if it was a little damp.

"I WILL RETURN WHEN THE CAMP IS QUIET," Orobas said. "EAT. REST. COLLECT YOURSELVES. I HAVE MUCH TO CONTEMPLATE." With that farewell, the demon moved out into the swamp.

The penitent's thoughts were a maelstrom as she watched the flames leap and dance. There were little flickers of blue and green in the fire from the wood and she focused on them while she collected herself. This journey was not what she had anticipated when she left Tamaris. Nowhere along the line had she expected or prepared herself for a creature like Orobas...or the truths he carried. She wanted to ignore what he was saying, pretend it wasn't real, but it had the ring of sincerity to it. As untrustworthy as a demon might be, she couldn't quite swallow the idea that he was lying. She took a deep breath. She needed something to distract her. Conversation would have to do. "So what do you think of them?" she asked Ardashir. "Our companions, not the Năluci. I never did ask."

Ardashir considered it for a moment. "They both have their rough edges," the knight said, looking in the direction of their companions. "Vladan is a belligerent creature, but he's certainly capable. While he could use a bath, I am glad of his company. He is a staunch friend. As for Khagra...it is a good thing we have her with us, or we would likely all be dead. She is quite skilled, I would say."

"You seem to get along well," Holland said, noting the way he smiled faintly at the comment.

"I like to think so," Ardashir said, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I am still deciding what to think of her, to be honest. She is very different from the women of Yssa. It is hard to imagine her out of the wilderness, she is so much a part of it. Even if orcs do not hold to chivalry, she has the marks of it in her: honesty, fidelity, honor. She is not what I expected."

"She has a soft spot for you," the penitent said.

Ardashir looked over at her, his dark eyes surprised. "You are mistaken," he said with a dismissive shake of his head.

"Oh?" Holland smiled. "You think she would have spared Olon for Vladan or I?"

He colored slightly, which was not the reaction she had been expecting. His tan cheeks only flushed more when she laughed. "You are a cruel woman, Holland," he muttered darkly. "Jesting at matters of the heart."

"I do it gently and with good intentions." She bumped his shoulder with her own. "And that doesn't exactly sound like recoiling in disgust, either. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let her know that you're not as opposed as you might seem?"

Ardashir made an irritated sound. "I wouldn't even know where to begin, nor how. Besides, people would talk." It was a lame excuse for inaction and his tone clearly showed that he knew it.

"Maybe in Yssa, but certainly not here. Besides, would the scandal really bother you so much?"

He frowned, but didn't argue. "What would you suggest? I am well out of my element."

Holland smiled. Apparently he really wasn't all that opposed to the idea. "Perhaps nothing as elaborate as the games played at court," she said. "If there's one thing I know about Khagra, it's that she appreciates it when people are straightforward."

"That is one of her charms," Ardashir said with a faint smile. "Genovefa always had some game or another to play." He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "I will talk to her tonight, when Orobas is in conference with you."

"And here I thought I would have to prod you into it," Holland said with amusement.

"And what of you, Holland?" the knight asked more quietly. "Unless I'm mistaken, you picked those flowers at Kel Badur with someone in mind."

Holland's smile faltered slightly. "You saw that?"

"And I saw you pass Taafr a letter," Ardashir said.

"I never did know when to leave well enough alone," the penitent murmured. "Yes, they were for someone."

The knight's eyes were sympathetic. He knew what it was to love someone who didn't return the affection. "She's lucky to have you." When Holland's lips parted to say something, he gave her a shrug. "One doesn't send flowers to a Yssan man, Holland. That letter was bound for Tamaris, if you were sending it with one of Taafr's people."

Holland sighed. "I suppose there's no point in lying," she said. "Points for perceptiveness, Ardashir."

"You're not a good liar anyway. It's to your credit." He fed a piece of wood into the fire from the stack nearby. It smoked and snapped, thick with dark resin. "Tell me about her. A little can't hurt and gods know it ought to make you feel better."

"She..." The penitent wasn't certain what she could say that wouldn't give too much away. But he was right. She wanted to talk about it. It was the same compulsion that had driven her to admit her feelings to Asthore back in front of the Tree of Knowledge. Her throat knotted up. "I don't know, Ardashir. No one has ever made me feel like even the thought of her does. She looked at me like I was faultless and smiled at me like I was as gentle as a dove. My soul is tainted and twisted, but all she ever had for me was soft words. And gods is she beautiful. I used to feel nothing at all, this cold emptiness in the center of my chest. Every time I look at her, I feel so much that it aches."

"You have it badly, my friend," he said. "Does she know?"

Holland shook her head. "The time where I might have had a chance of telling her is long past," she said. "That's why you should talk to Khagra. Don't make my mistake."

"We will be back in Tamaris someday, Holland, even if we need an army to get in the gates. You can tell her then."

"What difference will it make?" his friend said. "She will still be in love with someone else and I will still be..." She gestured at herself as if to sum up her existence. "...this. I told her once that I was not made to love or be loved. That is as true now as it was when I uttered it."

Ardashir turned his eyes towards the darkness of the wetlands beyond the fire, in the direction that the demon had gone. "You were made to be more than that, if Orobas is to be believed," he said thoughtfully. "I would make the argument that you love well." When her eyes fixed on him, he shrugged and smiled. "How long have we been traveling together? I know a little of your nature, secretive as you are."

Holland sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "All I wanted to do was protect her." She rubbed at her tired eyes. Even if she had slept through most of the healing, she didn't feel even a little bit rested. "Now look where we are."

The hooded knight hesitated for a moment, a realization stealing into his thoughts. If there was one person in the world Holland was trying to protect, it was most certainly Seva of Essen. "Oh Holland," he murmured despite himself, looking over at her with wide eyes. "Tell me you didn't."

"Hmm?"

"The Queen," Ardashir said. He knew he was exactly on target when Holland hesitated for fraction of a second. It was a good effort on her part not to show a reaction, but he was watching for it. "Gods' breath, Holland."

"Ardashir—" Holland was cursing herself now. She'd said too much, as she'd worried she might. She hesitated, uncertain. She didn't know what he would do next. At least they were in the middle of the godforsaken wilderness, months from Yssa.

"Gods' breath," he said again in a soft voice. "I can't believe no one saw it." He had only seen Holland and the queen together a few times, but in retrospect he realized he had been allowed glimpses of it. There was a light in those hazel eyes then that he didn't see now. He'd known that Holland's separation from Seva of Essen was hard on the penitent. He hadn't realized just how excruciating the depths of the parting were. "Holland—"

"I know," she said. "I'm a fool."

Ardashir shook his head. "That wasn't what I was going to say," he said, looking at her in a new light. No matter how much it hurt, she'd stayed right there at Seva's side. "You kept your peace, not a whisper of your pain. If you have your way, she'll never be the wiser. Gods' breath, what a weight you carry."

It was Holland's turn to put a piece of wood on the fire. She had relaxed slightly now that she realized Ardashir wasn't going to shout it to the four winds or say something infuriating. "I would prefer if everyone else was never the wiser as well."

He bowed his head. "I fully intend to keep your secret, Holland," he said. "Some things are not meant for everyone to know. Thank you for trusting me with this, unintentional though the revelation might be. I promise you that you will not regret it."

Holland couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief. She was slow to confide anything in anyone after everything that had happened with Laenus, but it still lifted the weight even if it also made discomfort settle in her stomach. Seva was the only one who had ever put her at ease, by offering up her own secret in exchange. That was part of the trusting nature Holland admired in the queen. "I hope not," she said softly.

Ardashir seemed to sense her discomfort. He put a hand on her shoulder. "A knight is only as good as his word," he said. "You have mine, on my honor."

That seemed to relax Holland. The chivalry of the east would chain Ardashir to his word as surely as the sorcery in her body was bound to her. He was not Laenus, not by any stretch of the imagination. "You should go talk to Khagra," the penitent said.

"It might be hours before Orobas returns to speak with you," he protested.

"I can occupy myself for a few hours." She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling faintly as she shifted her thoughts. "Keeping me company is a poor excuse. Off with you."

The hooded knight chuckled a little bit. "Fair enough, Holland." He rose to his feet and then tried to wipe away the dirt. Most of it smudged on his pants, too damp to count as anything but mud. Ardashir sighed. "I hardly look a knight, smeared with swamp."

"I think the last thing she cares about is knighthood," Holland said. She smiled at him when she saw a flicker of nerves in his face. For a moment, she was reminded of Galeo, but in a way that didn't hurt. "You'll be fine. Fortune favors the bold."

"I'm more concerned about her favor than Fortune's," Ardashir muttered. He gave Holland a little bow. "Pray for me. Gods know I may need it." With that said, the hooded knight headed off towards the other fires, where Khagra was still trying to keep a rein on Vladan—an impossible task if ever there were one.

Eventually, the camp fell still and quiet. Holland sat and watched the fire until she heard movement among the reeds. For something so large, Orobas could moving with surprising grace. "FOLLOW," the demon said quietly. "AND BRING THE SHARD OF MY PROGENITOR WITH YOU. WHAT I HAVE TO SAY SHOULD NOT REACH THE EARS OF THE MULTITUDES."

Holland nodded. She reached into her bag and pulled the black, glassy stone out before following Orobas into the swamp. The possibility that it was a trap had certainly occurred to her. That was why she'd brought her sword too. "Where are we going?"

"TO A PLACE BETWEEN."

The demon lead her down a narrow path of drier ground that quickly vanished into the trees. There was only moonlight by the time they approached a standing circle of monoliths. These were not simple stones. She could see symbols of power carved into the smooth rock, incantations worked into the sweeping patterns overgrown with vines. "I know this kind of circle," Holland said quietly. "The druids called them eunir. They are warded."

"CORRECT," Orobas rasped, dipping his head in a nod that might have been approving. "THE MAGIC OF THE FIRST WORLD WAS CAPABLE OF MANY THINGS. TIME IS...RESISTANT TO WILLFUL CHANGE—ITS DIMENSIONS ARE RULED BY POTENTIAL, TOO FLUID TO BE PROPERLY CONTROLLED—BUT SPACE IS NOT. WARDS ARE NOT WALLS. THEY ARE...DISTORTIONS. PLACES WHERE SPACE DOES NOT ACT AS IT SHOULD. TO ATTEMPT TO PASS THROUGH THEM CAN LEAD TO MANY FATES, DISMEMBERMENT AND DEATH PERHAPS BEING THE KINDEST OF THEM."

"An excellent argument for avoiding the place," the penitent said dryly.

"WE HAVE A KEY," Orobas said. "NOT ALL OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE DRUIDS DIED WITH THEM. BUT YOU MUST USE IT—MAGIC RESPONDS ONLY TO THE WILL OF THE LIVING." He turned, holding out a clawed hand. In his palm, a bone ring was waiting. It was inscribed in a language she didn't read, younger by far than the stone circle they were standing outside of. It was about the right size to be a bracelet for a person.

Holland took a deep breath and nodded as she picked up the bracelet. "What do I do?" she asked. "Last time I checked, I wasn't a mage."

"THIS REQUIRES NO SKILL," the demon said. "IT WAS DESIGNED SO THAT A FLEEING DRUID COULD SEEK SHELTER IN AN EMERGENCY. COMPLICATED INCANTATIONS ARE ILL-SUITED FOR SUCH A PURPOSE. I ASSUME SARAQAEL TAUGHT YOU ENOUGH OF THE FIRST SPEECH FOR YOU TO KNOW THE WORD FOR 'OPEN'."

"Open," Holland said, gripping the ring tightly. The air in front of them rippled and twisted as if coming alive.

"FOLLOW," Orobas said calmly. He stepped through the rippling space and vanished.

Against her better judgment, Holland followed. She passed through, walking into the center of the circle. There was an odd resistance, like wading through water, but then she was past the stones. She could see Orobas again, waiting for her. Other than that, the scene looked no different.

"WE ARE NO LONGER VISIBLE FROM THE OTHER SIDE. THIS OFFERS US SOMETHING IN THE WAY OF PRIVACY...AND PROTECTION FROM THE SCRYING OF THE PRINCES." He crouched down just like he had in the cave, motioning for her to sit on the grass. "NOW, I WOULD KNOW WHAT YOU INTEND TO DO WITH THE SHARD OF DEUS."

She sat down obediently. Something about the demon brought back her training. "After we raise an army? We're going to try to find the Desolate Throne."

"A DIFFICULT TASK, CONSIDERING IT IS LOST EVEN TO THE SEVEN," Orobas said.

"Memory of it survived in another place, far from the Imperium," Holland said quietly. She wasn't going to say where, out of respect for the priests of the Denah. "I saw the map. A glimpse. The mountains looked like the Stonemarch in the south, but I didn't recognize the rivers."

"RIVERS SHIFT OVER THE COURSE OF A THOUSAND YEARS," the demon said thoughtfully. "THE STONEMARCH IS IN HUMAN COUNTRY. YSSA. BUT HOW..." He paused. "AH. YES. THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE."

"What?"

"IN THE REVEALING, DEUS LOST CONTROL OF THE DESOLATE THRONE AND IT WAS USED TO SUNDER HIM INTO PIECES. IT IS POSSIBLE THAT THE FIRST WARDED IT WHEN THEY HELD IT, MUCH AS THIS PLACE IS WARDED. THAT WOULD EXPLAIN WHY IT HAS ESCAPED DETECTION."

It sounded like a reasonable theory to Holland, though it posed significant problems. How would they even find the wards, let alone pass them? "Nothing is ever simple," she murmured.

Orobas tilted his head. "YOU WERE NOT CREATED FOR SIMPLE TASKS. DEUS'S PIECE WILL BE MOST USEFUL IN THE SEARCH, PROVIDED YOU ARE CAREFUL." His obsidian eyes gleamed among the rags. "BUT KNOWING YOUR INTENTIONS, I MUST OFFER YOU A WARNING. THE DESOLATE THRONE IS SORCERY MORE POWERFUL THAN EVEN THAT WHICH THE PRINCES HAVE AT THEIR BECK AND CALL. TO EVEN ENTER THE BLACK CITY IS TO TOUCH THE FACE OF DIVINITY. IF YOU LEARN THE DESOLATE THRONE'S SECRETS, YOU MAY ALSO UNLOCK THE DARKNESS INSIDE OF YOU. YOU WERE GIVEN THE FREEDOM TO CHOOSE, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU ARE FREE FROM YOUR NATURE."

Holland felt a chill at that. She knew from her past that she was capable of a great deal of evil in the name of good. "I'm barely strong enough to resist Deus for any length of time," she said quietly. "I don't know if I can do this if what you say is true."

"YOU WILL NEVER KNOW," Orobas said. "NOT UNTIL IT IS PUT TO THE TEST. BUT YOU ARE FAR FROM THERE—YOU HAVE AN ARMY TO RAISE."

"I could use your help, Orobas," Holland said. "You know Saraqael and sorcery better than I do."

"IT IS NOT MY PLACE TO INTERVENE."

She tightened her jaw. "You intervened when you made me."

The demon paused for a long moment, then dipped his antlered head. "YOU ARE CORRECT. BUT MY...INTERFERENCE...IT HAS CAUSED A GREAT DEAL OF HARM."

"So work to make it right," Holland said. "It's what I have to do."

"YOU SPEAK OF PENANCE," Orobas said. "A STRANGE CONCEPT. NOTHING CAN UNDO WHAT WE HAVE DONE. THE IDEA IS PREDICATED ON THE ASSUMPTION THAT THERE IS SOME COSMIC TALLY. I ASSURE YOU THAT THE UNIVERSE CARES LITTLE. WE ARE GRAINS OF SAND IN AN ENDLESS DESERT."

"Philosophy is not my strong suit," she said, studying the demon the way he had studied her. "I don't care about the universe, Orobas."

"NO, YOU DO NOT. YOU FEEL. THAT IS WHAT MAKES YOU MORTAL, MORE THAN THE RAVAGES OF TIME OR THE CLUTCH OF THE GRAVE. I DO NOT. I AM A CREATURE OF THE VOID, THE ABSENCE."

Holland narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"BELIEF IS IRRELEVANT," Orobas said. He was quiet for a moment. "THE NĂLUCI FEEL. I WILL BROACH THE SUBJECT TO THEM."

"Why did you save me, then, if you don't care?"

The demon shifted. If she didn't know better, she would have said he looked uncomfortable. "I DO NOT KNOW. DOUBT, IT SEEMS, STILL RULES ME." He stood. "WE SHOULD RETURN. OUR ABSENCE WILL BE NOTED IF WE REMAIN. I WILL CONSIDER WHAT YOU HAVE SAID AND DETERMINE A COURSE OF ACTION FOR MYSELF."

Holland sprang to her feet. "Orobas," she said more quietly. When he looked at her, she made certain to meet his obsidian eyes with her own hazel ones. "Thank you."

The demon bowed his head in acknowledgment. "YOU ARE...WELCOME." He led the way back through the shimmering spot in the air and they broke through the circle. As they headed back towards camp, he rested his clawed hand on Holland's back again. "YOU ARE MORE THAN SARAQAEL INTENDED. I TAKE SATISFACTION IN KNOWING I HAD A PART IN THIS."

She felt a strange comfort at the touch. Whatever his reasons, Orobas seemed to have faith in her. It was welcome. Confusing, but welcome. "Yes, well, I've got a long way to go," Holland said.