Part 44 (1/2)
”What? To sell our children? To destroy the trees who are our brothers?”
”Some of your southern tribes accepted this compromise.”
”And those that didn't were slaughtered.”
Malaq sighed, appreciating the irony of championing a policy he had always despised. ”We will never agree on religion. Or on politics.”
”Or what's best for my son.” A grim smile twisted his mouth. ”Did you really think you could convince me that Keirith would be better off here? That I would agree that he should turn his back on his people, his beliefs, his G.o.ds? Would any father agree to such a choice?”
”You love Kheridh. I understand that. He's the kind of boy . . .” Malaq hesitated. ”Kheridh has a gift for inspiring love.”
Idly, he allowed his fingers to caress the stem of the goblet. Up and down. Up and down. From under his lowered lashes, he watched the Spirit-Hunter. Only his eyes moved, flicking from the fingers stroking the goblet to the knife lying on the platter and finally to his face.
This is the last thing Morgath must have seen-those cold gray eyes boring into his.
”Choose your weapons more carefully, priest. If I thought you were bedding my son, I'd kill you, but I wouldn't abandon him.”
”That was unpardonably crude. And a lie. Forgive me.”
”So your taste runs to girls?”
”My tastes are none of your concern,” Malaq snapped. He took a deep breath, annoyed that he had allowed the Spirit-Hunter to provoke him. ”For a man of my position to take Kheridh as a lover would be an unforgivable abuse of power.”
”Which you would never stoop to.”
Malaq answered the heavy sarcasm with a short laugh. ”Are you really so narrow-minded that you see yourself as the personification of all things good and decent while I-perforce-am the opposite? That you are absolutely right about absolutely everything? For a man who has witnessed miracles and spoken with G.o.ds, your arrogance is not only astonis.h.i.+ng but dangerous. The world-and the people in it-are a bit more complex than that, Memory-Keeper.” He shook his head. ”I pity your son. And I finally begin to understand the burden he faced growing up with such a father.”
The Spirit-Hunter pushed himself to his feet. ”We have nothing more to say to each other.”
”One thing only. You claim to know your son's mind. You're certain he would never choose to remain here. Shall we ask him? Shall we allow Kheridh to choose his path freely and without coercion?”
”Freely? When he knows you need only clap your hands to have me killed?”
”I am not your enemy!”
”You have my son. I want him back. That makes you my enemy.”
”Yes, I want Kheridh to remain. But if I kept him against his will or used you to ensure his cooperation, I would lose him more surely than if I sent him away. I can offer no proof of my sincerity . . . except to say that I do understand how you would feel to lose him.”
”Only a father could understand that.”
”Yes.”
His eyes widened. Malaq couldn't bring himself to say more, not even to win the man's support. ”Would you sit, please?”
He sat, surprise changing to wariness.
Malaq pushed forward the clay disk. ”This will provide you safe pa.s.sage through our lands. It's marked with my seal.”
The Spirit-Hunter barely glanced at it. ”You know I can't read what's written on it.”
”Actually, you can. So can any illiterate guard who might stop you. The disk has a simple picture-a man missing two fingers of each hand.”
The narrowed eyes flicked from the disk to his face.
”And yes, this might be a trap. The disk might direct a guard to execute you on the spot. But it doesn't. If Kheridh chooses to go with you, I'll provide another safe conduct for him. I give you my oath-on the G.o.ds that I wors.h.i.+p-that you may both leave Pilozhat with no fear of pursuit or retribution.”
”Not on your G.o.ds. Swear on your son's life.”
Malaq's breath caught. Rage blinded him. But, of course, it was the clever move. He should have antic.i.p.ated it.
”My son is dead.” His voice sounded foreign to him, thick and clogged as if he were choking. ”Shall I swear on his spirit's hope for rebirth?”
Their gazes locked. Finally, the Spirit-Hunter said, ”Nay. I accept your oath.”
d.a.m.n you for your gentle voice and your understanding eyes. And d.a.m.n me for allowing you to see my pain.
”Your wife-she was a child of the Oak and Holly, wasn't she?”
Even Vazh never called her that. Just ”his woman.”
”That's why you speak our tongue so well. And know the legends.”
He would not give the man the satisfaction of nodding.
”I'm sorry for your loss. And for reminding you of it.”
”I don't want your sympathy.” Despising his weak, pathetic voice, Malaq cleared his throat. ”I want you to leave Pilozhat.”
”On that, we both agree.”
”Even if it means losing Kheridh, I am willing to let him choose his own path. Are you willing to risk the same?”
Another endless pause before the Spirit-Hunter gave a short nod.
Malaq rose and walked to the doorway to instruct the guards. After they left, he turned back. ”You and I will not meet again. Would you permit me to ask you something?”
This time, the nod was cautious.
”Did you really speak with your Trickster-G.o.d?”
The Spirit-Hunter hesitated, considering the implications of his answer. In the silence, Malaq said, ”I've been a priest for fifteen years. The G.o.ds have never shown themselves to me. It would be a relief to know they actually exist.”
That they hear the prayers of men, even if they don't always answer them. That my life has not been dedicated to a lie.
”Even if the G.o.ds aren't yours?”
”If your G.o.ds exist, mine must as well. Who knows? Perhaps all G.o.ds are the same. Perhaps they merely show different faces to those who wors.h.i.+p them.”
”They exist.”