The Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn

  “I’m still the same man,” he replied, though Ard couldn’t even convince himself that those words were true.

  “No,” said Tanalin. “Looking at you, I can almost see a glimpse of him. The man who cared for me … But something else moves you now.”

  Ard swallowed hard, fighting tears. It was over now. Ard knew it. Tanalin knew it. This was the closure he’d been seeking, but that didn’t make the truth easy to accept.

  “Who are you now?” Tanalin asked. “A poacher? A murderer?”

  Ard shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Your people killed my captain!” she shouted. “Grax Hajar! You probably didn’t even know his name. He was my friend. And a blazing good man! An honest one, at least.”

  “I told my crew not to shoot,” Ard said. “He was a goon. Nothing more than hired muscle—”

  “You brought them here,” Tanalin cut him off. “You can’t pretend like you weren’t involved. Like your hands aren’t dirty. You were always so blazing good at that!”

  Ard clenched his teeth, a bit of anger stirring inside him, too. Now that he’d finally set his emotions aside, it was time to get serious. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that your dragon ate him.”

  That struck a chord in Tanalin. Ard could see it in her face. She had surely ordered her Caller to summon that dragon to act as executioner. From that clifftop, Tanalin and her Harvesters could have easily used Fielders to pick off every person in Ard’s crew. But the dragon was nature’s way of dealing with trespassers on Pekal. It would seem that Tanalin didn’t like to get her hands dirty, either.

  “Why are you here, Ard?” Tanalin finally asked, looking anywhere but at his face.

  “I’ve come for Quarrah Khai.”

  “My prisoner?” Tanalin clarified. “You expect me to release her just because you dropped in to say hello?”

  “There’s a good reason for all of this, Tanalin.”

  “Well, I’m still waiting to hear it.”

  They stared at one another for a long moment as Ard tried to decide how much to tell her.

  “My crew has to get that Slagstone off this island,” Ard began. “You’re the only person who can make sure that happens.”

  “Oh!” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? You show up from beyond the grave, don’t even apologize for the pain you’ve caused me, and now you expect me to do something that could cost me my career? Or worse!” She shook her head. “I have to take you in. I have to turn you over to the harbor Reggies.”

  “You know what’ll happen to me?” Ard asked. “The moment Pethredote hears I’m alive, he’ll give the order to execute me.”

  “That’s supposed to appeal to my mercy? You already died, Ard.”

  “So you know exactly how it felt,” he cut in. “Send me to my death, and you’ll have to experience it all over again.”

  “Oh, I have a feeling it’ll be a lot easier this time,” Tanalin blurted.

  Ard grunted in frustration. This wasn’t going well. He never had been able to talk circles around Tanalin the way he could everyone else. Ard had a weak spot for her, but he needed to hedge it up or this was going to end very poorly.

  “What I’m doing is important,” Ard said. “My employer isn’t the usual type. I swear to you that he hired me for the good of the Greater Chain.”

  “That sounds awfully altruistic for you,” replied Tanalin. “Who is this employer?”

  “Someone you wouldn’t suspect, but someone you would instinctively trust,” Ard answered, thinking of Halavend’s desperate conversation from their first meeting. “I can’t explain it all. I don’t understand it myself, but I know that what I’m doing is the right thing. I have to get that Slagstone off Pekal. Lean to the Homeland. Feel its Urgings, Tanalin. You’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

  “So you’re a Wayfarist zealot now?” Tanalin retorted. “The Ardor I knew wasn’t nearly so religious. I find it hard to believe that you’ve rediscovered your faith while living like a criminal.”

  When she said it so bluntly, Ard realized how ironic it was.

  “Let’s suppose I let you go,” she said quietly. “My crew saw you enter this tent. I’d be charged with treason.”

  “It’s quite the mess we’re in,” Ard agreed. “If I leave the tent unscathed, you’ll be tried and executed. If I leave the tent in chains, I’ll be tried and executed.”

  “You have to know which option I’ll choose.”

  “What if there was a third option?” he proposed. “One where we both get away.” The moment had come for Ardor Benn to explain his plan. This was the man he was now. A man of clever words and daring plans. Ard felt his anxieties ease as he set out to do what he did best.

  “I’m listening,” Tanalin whispered.

  Ard reached into his vest and withdrew a slender piece of metal with a slight bend at the top. It wasn’t one of Quarrah’s genuine lock-picking tools, but it was the closest thing he could find in his pack—part of a cheap ignitor with the spring and the Slagstone removed. Ard trusted that Quarrah would have no trouble getting herself free, even with such a makeshift tool.

  “I need you to give this to Quarrah Khai.” He handed the item to Tanalin.

  “What is it?”

  “She’ll know what to do with it,” Ard assured. “In a moment of lax security, she’ll be gone.” Tanalin tucked the metal tool into her pocket. “My crew is camping at North Pointe. A ship is coming for us, but it won’t arrive for another hour or so. If you direct your crew inland, away from the peninsula, it will buy us time to get off the island. Once we’re gone, I have a favor to ask.”

  “You’re hardly in a position to ask for more favors.”

  “There is a girl in my company, Nemery Baggish,” said Ard, ignoring her statement. “She’s young, Tanalin. Only fourteen. She signed on to be our Caller, but she’s no criminal.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “She was injured in the dragon attack,” Ard explained. “She won’t survive a jump to the ship.”

  “You want me to take her off the island.”

  “She’s talented, Tanalin,” said Ard. “Homeland knows she needs a better role model than my motley crew. And she’s not going to find that in a Reggie Stockade.”

  “I can’t just let her go free,” she said. “The girl is underage, undocumented, and she threw in her lot with poachers.”

  “She’s not a criminal,” Ard said again. He didn’t know what to do if Tanalin refused to help. Ard was hardly willing to leave Nemery behind.

  “I thought your crew was just hired help. Why do you care so much about this one?” Tanalin asked. “I’ve always been told that there was no honor among criminals.”

  Why did he care about Nemery Baggish? Was it because she was so young? Was it because she had awakened a Wayfarist sentiment within his heart? Or did it have something to do with the fact that another ruse artist had taken her parents’ money and left Nemery’s family broken?

  “She’s just a good Wayfarist kid who made a bad choice in coming here,” Ard said. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”

  Tanalin sighed, and Ard knew that he had reached her. The Tanalin he remembered had always been compassionate.

  “I’ll fetch the girl at North Pointe,” she said. “But I make no promises about what I’ll do once she’s in my custody.”

  “You’ll do the right thing,” said Ard. “Meeting you will be a crossroads for Nemery. In a big way, you’ll determine which road she goes down. You can save her life, Tanalin. And I don’t just mean from the Moonsickness.”

  Ard’s words were crafted to instill a sense of responsibility in Tanalin. They proved that Ard respected the woman she was, despite the fact that his lifestyle was so different.

  “You still haven’t explained how we get out of this tent,” said Tanalin.

  Ard nodded. Now they were getting to the good part. “Let me see your Roller.”

  She hesitated for a moment,
but Ard assuaged her fears by holding out his hands and making a harmless expression. Tanalin couldn’t possibly think that he would hurt her. Finally drawing the Roller from its leather holster, she passed him the gun.

  Ard popped open the rotating side and pulled all six cartridges and balls from the chambers. He handed five of them back to Tanalin, but kept the gun and the final piece of ammunition. Carefully, Ard worked the metal ball from the tip of the cartridge, loosening the adhesive that held the thin paper to the lead projectile. Once finished, he dropped the ball into his pocket and reloaded the blank cartridge into the Roller’s first chamber.

  Spinning the gun around, Ard offered the handle to Tanalin. “At the risk of repeating a good trick …” Ard pulled open the collar of his shirt so Tanalin could see what he had strapped to his chest. It was a soft pouch, tied securely around his chest with a long piece of string.

  “What is that?” Tanalin asked, taking the Roller.

  “Blood,” Ard answered. Fresh from Moroy’s snared deer at North Pointe. “You’re going to have to shoot me, Tanalin.”

  She almost dropped the Roller. Ard knew what this meant for her. Tanalin hadn’t pulled the trigger last time, but she’d held the smoking gun. Raek said the crew had recoiled from her. A woman who would shoot the man she loved, just to stop him from carrying out a theft. That smoking Roller had branded Tanalin a figure of brutal justice. And now he was asking her to do it again.

  “You pull the trigger,” Ard said. “Your crew comes bursting through the tent flap and they find me dead on the ground. Leave me where I lie, pack up the tent, and lead your team inland. Quarrah will use the tool to escape. I’ll rendezvous with her and take her to North Pointe. Give us a couple of hours to get away, and then circle northward to retrieve Nemery.”

  Tanalin was staring at him, breathing heavily. Ard, usually so good at reading people, had no idea what she was thinking.

  “You summed it up so well,” she whispered. “Your little ruse.”

  “Tanalin,” he said. “I—”

  She pulled back the Slagstone gun hammer and fired. Through the puff of smoke, they stared into each other’s eyes for one brief moment. Then Ard slapped his chest and felt the pouch of blood explode.

  Ard dropped to the ground in what he hoped was a convincing display, but the look on Tanalin’s face was not acting. It was reliving. Watching Ard fall, bloodied and dying, with a smoking Roller in her hand.

  Omith came flying through the wet tent flap. Ard sputtered once, closed his eyes, and relaxed his body. The deer blood ran down his sides, his shirt soaked. He heard Tanalin drop the gun.

  “Sparks, Tana!” Omith’s voice was intense. “What did you do?”

  Ard heard Tanalin draw several deep, steadying breaths before she spoke. Everything now hinged on what the woman chose to say.

  “He lied,” Tanalin whispered. “He lied to me.” Well, that part was true. “He told me his crew was camped at North Pointe.” Ard felt his hopes falling. “But I’m sure they went inland. They’re trying to skirt around us and make for the harbor.”

  Ard resisted a big sigh of relief. Dead men didn’t sigh.

  “Leave his body there,” Tanalin continued. “We’ll pack up and move inland at once.”

  “I’ll tell the crew,” Omith replied. Ard heard the swish of the wet tent flap, and he could still hear Tanalin breathing. The two of them were alone in the tent again, but Ard didn’t even dare crack his eyelids open.

  “Flames, Ard,” she whispered. “I’m getting too good at this. You better hope we never meet again. One of these times, there’ll be a real ball in the gun.”

  Quarrah twisted, legs tucked back, testing the true measure of her flexibility. Her fingers slipped into the top of her boot, feeling the tip of the metal tool as she worked it from the lining pocket.

  The gunshot was finally the distraction she’d been waiting for. It had resounded from the center of camp, causing the king’s Harvesters to jerk like puppets on a string.

  For a hopeful moment, Quarrah thought the disruption might be some sort of rescue attempt from her crew. But the hubbub died as quickly as the shot had sounded, leaving Quarrah to realize that any escape would have to be of her own making.

  As the fear of attack waned, curiosity among the Harvesters piqued, and Quarrah’s guard finally wandered far enough for her to make her move.

  She slipped the tool free of her boot lining, spinning it between her fingers and inserting the tip into the lock. The jagpin wasn’t the best choice for releasing one’s own hands from shackles, but it was the only thing the Harvesters hadn’t taken from her.

  Her treatment had been fair, for a prisoner. Quarrah had been given water and a strip of dried meat as camp was set. They’d pressed her for information, but their methods had remained humane.

  Quarrah had spoken with Tanalin.

  She didn’t even remember what she’d said to the stern woman. Simply standing before Tanalin sent a thrill of jealousy through Quarrah’s stomach. And it was then, looking into the eyes of Tanalin Phor, that Quarrah knew Ard would abandon her. Any attempt at rescue could bring Ard and Tanalin together. Quarrah knew she wasn’t worth that risk.

  With a satisfying click, the lock popped open and Quarrah felt the metal shackles loosen around her aching wrists. She slipped free, leaping to her feet and sprinting into the dimness of the trees where the morning light had not yet penetrated. There was no immediate call of alarm at her escape, and Quarrah fell into a steady run.

  Well, that was easy.

  She needed to reach North Pointe. Quarrah’s impeccable sense of direction, along with snippets of conversation she’d picked up from the king’s Harvesters, told her which direction to go.

  Quarrah was slicked with sweat, her breath coming in weary gasps, when Moroy Peng stepped out of the trees with a Roller leveled in her direction.

  “Sparks, Moroy!” She skidded to a halt in the damp soil. “Put that thing down! It’s me.”

  He sniffed nervously and lowered the gun. “How do I know you’re not leading the king’s Harvies right to us?” He glanced behind her. “Where’s Ardor?”

  Quarrah brushed the painful question aside. “We need to get to North Pointe.”

  “You’re there.” Moroy gestured vaguely over his shoulder, his gaze still trained on the trees behind her. “The blazing fool get himself killed?”

  “Ard?” Quarrah clarified. “I thought he was with you.”

  “Was,” Moroy replied. “He went looking for you. Said he was going straight to that woman captain to negotiate your release.”

  Quarrah felt her breath catch. Ard had faced Tanalin for her? He … The gunshot! Sparks, had Tanalin killed him?

  “For the record, I thought it was a bad idea.” Moroy finally holstered his Roller and turned. Quarrah fidgeted, her feet torn between following Moroy to North Pointe, and sprinting back to the Harvester camp to search for Ard.

  “The Short Fuse is nearly finished rigging up some harebrained idea,” Moroy continued. “It’s time to get off this Homeland-forsaken island.”

  Quarrah stood rigid for one more moment before jogging to catch up with the lean man. “What about Ulusal? Did she make it?”

  Moroy let out a cold laugh. “You’re the only one who thought she would. She’s been dinner for the wolves by now.”

  So many dead. Was Ard one of them? He had come for her! How could she leave Pekal not knowing if he was alive?

  Quarrah followed Moroy out of the trees, the bright morning sun glinting sharply off the water far below. The rocky peninsula of North Pointe extended like a pointing finger, but Moroy led her past it. The familiar Drift crate came into view, but it was empty. The massive lump of Slagstone now rested at the edge of the cliff.

  All around, the earth had been cleared to bare dirt. Quarrah stepped carefully over a series of numbers that had been scratched into the rich soil. Arithmetic of some sort. Raek must have been hard at work here, scribing madly on his poor man??
?s chalkboard.

  “Quarrah!”

  She turned as Raek appeared from behind the empty crate. The big man was holding a detonation pot marked with the colors of Drift Grit.

  “Well, call me a Paladin Visitant,” Raek said. “Tanalin actually let you go!”

  “She didn’t let me go,” Quarrah said. “I escaped.”

  “Of course it had to look that way.” He glanced around. “Where’s Ard?”

  Quarrah sighed. “I never saw him.”

  “Well, the guy has a knack for showing up at the last minute.” Raek distracted himself with some final adjustments on the Slagstone, but in her mind, Quarrah heard the gunshot once more.

  Moroy Peng stepped up to the edge of the cliff, shedding his boots, belt, and shirt. “I’m not waiting around for the ruse artist. I expect full payment within a cycle. Assuming you survive the jump.”

  “Jump?” Quarrah asked.

  In response, Moroy leapt from the cliff, plunging some sixty feet into the InterIsland Waters below.

  “Flames! He jumped!” she cried.

  “That is the quickest way down,” Raek remarked.

  Quarrah saw the pirate ship waiting below, anchored illegally close to Pekal’s shoreline cliffs. Moroy surfaced and began the two-hundred-yard swim to the vessel.

  “This thing is all set.” Raek gently patted the lump of Slagstone. Detonation pots were carefully strapped around the black rock. “All we need to do is detonate some Drift Grit and float it off the edge of the cliff. Impact with the water should be enough to spark the pots and envelop the whole mound in a ball of ice.”

  But Quarrah wasn’t paying attention. Ardor Benn’s voice suddenly cut through the morning stillness.

  “Spark it all, Raek!”

  Quarrah turned to see Ard scrambling over some rocks at the base of the peninsula. “I can’t find her anywhere! Tanalin promised that she’d give her the …” Ard froze when he saw her. Quarrah watched an expression of frustration melt into a broad smile. But his shirt! It was stained red in a gruesome pattern. “Oh, there you are, Quarrah Khai.”