Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [12]
“He’s not, by the way,” said Nightshade. “I can tell.”
“How can you tell?” Gerard asked.
“My kind can see that they’re dead right off,” said Nightshade. “There’s no warm glow coming from their bodies, like there is from you and Rhys and Atta and anyone else who’s alive.”
“Your kind,” said Gerard. “You mean kender?”
“Not just any old kender. Kender nightstalkers. My dad says there aren’t a lot of us around, though.”
“What about you, Brother? Can you tell by looking?” Gerard was plainly working hard at not sounding skeptical.
“Not at first glance. But, if I get close enough, as Nightshade says, I can see it in the eyes. There is no light there, no life. The eyes of the Beloved are the dead, blank eyes of a corpse. There are other means by which they can be identified. The Beloved of Chemosh have incredible strength. They cannot be harmed or killed. And I think it likely that they each have a mark upon the left breast, over the heart. The mark of the deadly kiss that has killed them.”
Rhys sat in thought, trying to remember all he could about his brother.
“There is something else that is odd about Lleu and might apply to all the Beloved. Over time, my brother—or, rather—the thing that was my brother—appeared to lose his memory. Lleu has no remembrance of me at all now. He has no memory of slaying his parents, or any of the other crimes he has committed. He is apparently unable to remember anything for very long. I have seen him eat a full meal and in the next breath complain that he is starving.”
“Yet he remembers he’s supposed to kill in the name of Chemosh,” said Gerard.
“Yes.” Rhys agreed somberly. “That is the one thing they do remember.”
“Atta knows the Beloved when she sees one,” said Nightshade, with a pat for the dog, who accepted his pat with a good grace, though she was obviously hoping for another bone. “If Atta knows, maybe other dogs know.”
“That might explain a little mystery I’ve been wondering about,” said Gerard, regarding Atta with interest. He shook his head. “Though if it does, then it’s sorrowful news. You see, I’ve been keeping her with me when I do my work. She helps with the kender problem and she’s useful to me in other ways, too. She’s a good companion. I’ll miss her, Brother. I don’t mind telling you.”
“Perhaps, when I return to the monastery, I can train another dog, Sheriff—” Rhys paused, wondering at what he’d just said. When I return. He’d never meant to go back there.
“Would you, Brother?” Gerard was pleased. “That would be great! Anyway, back to what I was saying. Every day Atta and I have lunch at the Inn of the Last Home. Everyone there—the usual crowd—has gotten to know Atta. My friends come pet her and talk to her. She is always a lady. Very gracious and polite.”
Rhys stroked the dog’s silky ears.
“Well, one day—yesterday it was—one of the regulars, a farmer come to sell his wares at the market—took his lunch at the Inn as usual. He bent down to pet Atta like he always does. Only this time she growled at him and snapped. He laughed and backed off, saying he must have got on her bad side. Then he started to sit down next to me. Atta was on her feet in a flash. She moved her body between me and him. Her fur bristled. She bared her teeth, her lip curling back. I couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her!”
Gerard looked uncomfortable. “I spoke to her pretty sharply, I’m afraid, Brother. And I marched her off to the stables to tie her up until she learned to behave herself. Now I’m thinking I owe her an apology.” Taking a strip of chicken, he handed it to the dog. “I’m sorry, Atta. It seems you knew what you were doing all along.”
“What happened to the farmer?”
Gerard shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since.” He sat back in his chair, frowning.
“What are you thinking, Sheriff?” Rhys asked.
“I’m thinking that if these two can recognize one of these Beloved by sight, that we could set a trap. Catch one in the act.”
“I did that,” said Rhys grimly. “I stood by helplessly as my brother killed an innocent young girl. I won’t be party to the same mistake again.