Chapter Six: Trust
The Prince began to make a plan. He was not naturally gifted at deceptive performance like his brother Tiffenal, who could convince twelve different factions he was doing twelve different things and then end up doing a thirteenth, nor was he well suited to pure imaginative strategy like his brother Geofred, who was infamous for knowing the outcome of everything from a battle to a chess game within the first few seconds of action.
But detail, he was very good at detail. Everything always came down to the details.
The Prince wasn’t exactly sure when it had come about, but ever since early childhood he’d had an uncanny ability to memorize, recite, and compile lists. By the age of ten everything from trade ledgers to obscure farming laws were brought to him simply because he could read them over once, understand them, repeat them verbatim, and, most importantly, explain them.
Privately, he had always assumed it was part of the Raven Talisman, or more specifically because of what happened when he took a life. He had been made to kill his first man at the age of five, as all the Children were, and when the man had died, all the memories of his forty-year life had come flooding into the Prince. His mind had been forced to expand in order to encompass all of the memories, all of the sensory details of forty years pressed against his eyes, his ears, his nose, his skin, his tongue.
The details were what made the memories important. It was the moment he’d learned about murder, and starvation, and the life of a thief. It was the moment he’d learned about what men and women did in closed rooms. But it wasn’t like he had learned it in a pleasantly illustrated book. No, he had learned it through the smells, the sights, the sounds, the caresses. It was as if he had been there – as if he had lived it. The experience had left him in a semi-coma for the better part of a week, unable to speak, unable to relate to anyone around him, horrified about what life contained. Geofred liked to joke that he’d grown up that day, the oldest five year old the world had ever seen. The same year he executed a rapist as part of his duties as a Prince, and had been forced to relive the crime through the eyes and skin of the man who’d committed it, all the while feeling like it was he who had done it, he who was.... He shivered violently as the memories came back to him. He’d been sick for weeks afterward, but thank the Empress the memories all faded eventually, even the most brutal ones.
He could still feel bits of the memories of the Death Watch soldier he’d killed floating in the back of his mind, though in truth these were his memories of those memories. Always an hour or so after a kill took place, the memories, the strength and speed, all of the person’s life, faded away and went to wherever such things go. What was left was his impression of them, nothing more.
The Prince took a deep breath, the air chill in his lungs even though it was hot and stuffy underneath the hood, and banished the morbid reminiscing. He needed a plan, and to make a plan, he had to get all the details. And to get all the details, he needed to get the shadow-cursed, light-forsaken, damnable hood off of his head. He needed to see, to hear, to smell.
But how would he do that? The Exiles didn’t trust him. The girl certainly didn’t, not after what had happened with the Death Watch, how he had allowed them to ambush the three of them. Details. That was a detail wasn’t it? Yes. She didn’t like him, because she felt betrayed by him.
So to make her trust me, I need to prove it. She needs facts, and reasons, and proofs. That’s what the girl needs. I need to get her to talk to me.
One down. Prove yourself to the girl, get her talking. Now, Tomaz.
The irony of course is that they can’t actually trust me, because I’m only earning their trust to betray them.
For some reason, this thought hurt the Prince. Betrayal was evil, it was wrong and … but no, this wasn’t betrayal. Betrayal would be to turn his back on his Mother, and on the other Children. Family loyalty came first, and loyalty to the Empire, which was the source of all good in the land of Lucia. Yes. To be loyal to them, this deception was necessary.
Tomaz. The Prince tilted his head again under the hood, but failed to catch a glimpse of the big man. Stifling his exasperation, he dropped his head, and as he did his eyes moved over the two black short swords they had commandeered from two dead Death Watch soldiers. They were tied and lashed down securely to the horse the Prince was riding, and as he looked at them the image of Tomaz’s enormous greatsword came to mind; the huge swath of steel cutting through the shadows and flashing in the light as the Exile dueled and overcame the Death Watchman, saving the Prince’s life.
He’s a protector.
It was all there: the way he looked out for the girl, the way he was concerned with teaching the Prince manners, the way he’d jumped in front of a Death Watchman with no concern for his own safety. He related to people, empathized with them, and wanted them to be better.
He’ll need me to seem like I’ll be a good person. He wants people to be good.
So the Prince began to make a plan, doing the best he could, knowing that it was rudimentary at best but committed to it, and that night, once dinner had been eaten and he found himself once more bound to a small tree, he spoke to the Exiles.
“I apologize for not telling you the Death Watch was coming,” he said. He watched their reactions carefully, recording every tiny detail, no matter how insignificant it seemed.
They both stiffened as he spoke.
“I was,” his voice caught in his throat unintentionally, but he pushed on, “wrong.”
Tomaz turned slowly to look at the girl, his face giving away nothing but his eyes quite clearly speaking volumes to her alone. She looked back, her face also unreadable, and the Prince felt a flash of annoyance that he couldn’t pick up the slightest hint as to how either of them were feeling. Tomaz looked back at the Prince, waiting for him to continue.
“You were right,” he said, choosing his words very carefully. “The Death Watch was sent after me, they kidnapped me, and they followed and ambushed you in order to get to me. I also think … that it was my Mother who sent them.”
He was careful not to lie. He did believe his Mother had sent them, but as a test. He did think that the Death Watch had been sent to ambush them. He continued on, telling them what the second Death Watchman had said to him while the girl had gone to get Tomaz. He watched closely for their reactions, and this time they were more illuminating: the girl’s eyes flashed with surprise and then narrowed in suspicion before she smothered the emotions and returned to a blank calmness. Tomaz, who had been squatting on the ground while sharpening his sword, slowly put the stone and the blade away and turned around completely to face him. They were both staring at him with an intensity that was enough to make his stomach do a nervous somersault.
No, you’re fine. You’ve given nothing away. Go on.
“I understand that you want to take me to your people. I … will be honest with you. You saved me from the Death Watch, and I owe you a debt that makes me uneasy.”
That was true enough. More accurately it made him very uneasy, but they should be happy he was going to repay it by letting them go once he’d made it to the Seeker in Banelyn instead of coming back to hunt them down like the outlaws they were.
“And so I want to make a deal with you.”
“Excuse me?”
The girl stood up, looking offended, and the Prince was afraid he’d gone too far too fast. But before he could backtrack, Tomaz shifted his weight and held up a hand to stall her. He was eyeing the Prince carefully, and the Prince knew that the giant’s desire to see good in people was preventing him from considering all the possibilities.
“I want to hear what he has to say, Eshendai.”
“Ashandel, no, you can’t be serious!”
“Humor me, please?”
The Prince watched as the girl’s anger winked out and was replaced by the cold, dispassionate mask she wore more and more often around him.
“Fine,” she said and turned to the Prince.
The Prince swallowed and cleared his throat, making sure he always knew where her hands were in relation to her sheathed daggers, all too aware now of how lethal she was with them.
“I’ve … never been outside of Lucien before.”
The girl’s eyes widened ever so slightly and then narrowed; her hands balled into fists. What was that? Why did she seem angry at that? Shadows and light, even Symanta would have trouble understanding what went on in this girl’s head!
“And I want to see the world,” he finished lamely. It was true. Of everything he was saying, this was true and always had been. “Until I woke up in that shack … uh … wooden cabin, I’d never seen the sun. Never smelled grass or … never mind. That’s not important.”
This time it was Tomaz who reacted: the big man stood up and turned away, slowly sheathing his sword and stowing away the whetstone he’d been using to sharpen it. He stood there silently for a moment, then turned back toward the Prince, who felt a moment of panic. What was the big man thinking?
“What’s the deal you wish to make?” the girl asked. Her voice sounded harsh and distant, but the Prince was familiar enough with her now to know that she was interested, or else she wouldn’t have spoken. It seemed that harsh and distant was just the way she sounded on basic principle.
Details. It was all about the details.
“I … would ask permission to travel without the hood.”
There was a long moment of silence, in which the Prince waited for one of them to speak. He hoped that he had phrased his request correctly. He was not, as a general rule, familiar with how one asks for permission.
“That’s all?”
The Prince looked at the Exile girl.
“Yes,” he said earnestly, quietly.
“How can we trust you?” she replied.
“What do you expect me to do, look my way out of captivity?” the Prince asked, letting some of his annoyance show; the girl was infuriating, there was no need to feign that.
Tomaz chuckled, and the Prince’s heart gave a sick sideways lurch, half out of excitement that his plan was working and he had begun to win over Tomaz, and half out of disgust that he was repaying the big man by betraying him.
They have betrayed all I stand for – all that is good in this world: the Empire, the Princes of the Realm, my Mother. They deserve no special treatment.
The Exile girl continued to watch him, her emerald gaze unyielding.
“You said it was to be a deal. What is your part of the bargain?”
“I promise that as long as I am in your captivity I will not attempt to contact the Empire again. I will warn you should an ambush occur, or if we are about to run into a patrol of soldiers. All of this I swear by my Mother’s name, by the Children, and the Light that they serve.”
They both watched him for a long moment, and then Tomaz looked to the girl, deferring judgment to her. It was a long time before she spoke, and when she finally did it was with the same harsh directness as before.
“This changes nothing,” she said. “You are still our prisoner, you are still a captive of the Exiled Kindred, and you are still coming with us wherever we choose to take you. Should you break your promise, I will end you, Prince of Ravens or not, before you can take your next breath. I want it to be very clear to you that, as you’ve seen, you are extremely valuable to us alive. But should it come down to it, you are much more valuable as a dead Prince than an escaped one. If there is the slightest chance you are about to become the latter, then I shall make you the former.”
The Prince waited for Tomaz to say something, but the big man did not move, only stood in stoic silence. It was then that the Prince realized that the girl was the true leader of the two; despite being the younger, she was in command, and the big man would advise her only. The final decision, after debate was done, would always be hers.
“I can accept that,” the Prince said, when it became clear she had no intention of continuing. In truth, it was no less than what he had expected, if far less than he had hoped.
“But with one more request.”
She stiffened, and her face grew thunderous, but she remained silent. The Prince quickly continued.
“Every day that I keep this deal, I would ask that I be allowed to earn your trust, or at least as much as I can. You, both of you, saved me from death. Tomaz has, if he speaks true, saved me twice. Should I go back on our deal in any way, then you can hood me, cloak me, and tie me to that thrice-damned horse, if you don’t choose to kill me outright.”
“How will you earn our trust?” Tomaz asked slowly.
“Responsibilities,” he said quickly. “Perhaps something as simple as making the fire. You can supervise me, or you can tie me to a tree with only enough slack to perform the task. But I wish to help you … and if you give me something to do, you will see that I can be counted on. And then perhaps you might come to view me as –”
“And then as time passes,” the girl broke in, “we come to trust you, the tasks get more complex, until you manage to convince us to let our guard down and you run. You find the Empire, you sell us out to save your own life, and then they kill you and they begin to hunt us in earnest.”
“I just learned that my Mother sent the Death Watch to assassinate me,” the Prince said, very quietly, speaking almost to himself, letting some of his inner turmoil show through. “Why would I run to them? I think it has been just irrevocably proven to all of us that there is no place for me to run to even should I wish to leave your company. Which, to tell you what I think you may soon guess, I do not want to do, because I know nothing of this world and it appears the two of you know much. You have food and transportation, whereas I have nothing but borrowed clothes a price on my head. Not to mention that should the Death Watchmen come again, as we know they may, I would feel more secure with those daggers and that greatsword nearby. Why would I run, knowing all of this?”
There was a long silence as Tomaz and the girl watched him, the first with interest, the second with something akin to loathing.
“You’re lying,” the girl said.
“Eshendai,” Tomaz said quietly, “I see no harm in this. After all, did not the Empire prove to him in spectacular fashion that he is no longer welcome among them?”
“He’s the Prince of Ravens, we can’t trust him,” she said stubbornly.
“He’s a boy,” Tomaz rumbled gently, “he’s barely older than you were.”
She jumped as if burned, and the Prince looked wide-eyed from one to the other. What had just happened? A long time passed before she spoke again, but when she did, it was without breaking eye contact with the big man.
“I understand what you’re saying,” she said, “but I don’t trust him. He’s holding something back, I can see it even though I can’t explain it.”
“The choice is yours,” Tomaz reminded her gently. “But you have my counsel.”
“Yes, I know.”
She turned to the Prince then, and watched him with an intensity that was quite alarming. Her eyes were flecks of emerald stone, and the lines of her face were hard and angular, like the curves and planes of a marble statue. She strode forward, and held out her hand.
“We have a deal.”
The Prince shook her hand, which was cool and calloused, no doubt from years of work with her daggers. She dropped his hand quickly, a small grimace crossing her face as if she had just touched something covered in dirt and slime, and then turned away.
“Sleep,” Tomaz said, with a tight smile, “and tomorrow you journey without the hood.”
The Prince nodded, not trusting himself to smile, before he lay down, turned over, and tried to fall asleep. He listened to the sounds of the girl and the giant banking the fire and checking the horses, and then when they had decided the watch, the sounds of Tomaz settling in for sleep and the girl slipping into the surrounding forest.
The plan had worked. They would begin to relax their guard, even though the girl had reservations about doing so. He wa
s a step closer to making his way back to his rightful place beside his Mother.
And yet, peace of mind did not descend on him, and he spent the night, once again, trying and failing to find sleep.