From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [136]
“I come in peace!” a familiar voice said.
Achan lowered his arm to see Lord Nathak dismount a horse that was slick with sweat and breathing hard. Toros and another soldier trained their blades on Lord Nathak.
As always, Nathak wore a molded brown leather mask over half his face to hide his ruined skin. His hair was white on the right side and black on the left, as if a young man and an old one had been sliced down the middle and stuck together. It reminded him of the tree in Allowntown that had been both dead and alive. It reminded him of all of Er’Rets. Lord Nathak’s short, pointed beard was split and had been twisted so the black and white spiraled together like the snail shells that washed up on the beach east of Sitna Manor.
Shung and Sir Caleb crouched to help Achan stand. His legs were shaking so hard he kept hold of the men for fear he would fall over. “You are well, Shung?”
“Cheating black knights and their rocks.” Shung spat on the road. “I am well.”
Achan grinned and patted Shung’s shoulder. “I am glad to hear it.” He turned to look on Silvo but saw nothing but charcoal smoke pouring off the remains of the wagon like water in a rocky stream. “Silvo?”
Sir Caleb motioned to a drift of black ash on the dirt road. “Gone.”
Achan looked back to where Lord Nathak stood beside his horse, arms lifted in surrender to Toros’s sword. “And Lord Nathak?”
“Saved your life.” Sir Caleb pointed to the remaining black knights and Lord Nathak, then addressed Toros. “Bind these men and put them with the captives.”
“Don’t take me away. Not yet!” Ragged desperation choked Lord Nathak’s voice. “I must speak with the prince first. Please!”
Achan brushed the ash of Silvo Hamartano off his chest. “Say what you must, Lord Nathak. You have my attention.”
Lord Nathak swallowed, his gaze shifting over the surrounding soldiers. “I am tired, boy. Tired of living. Everything I’ve worked for is out of my hands. Always has been, I suspect. My son betrayed me. He answers to a new master now.”
“The Hadad?”
Lord Nathak groaned. “Macoun is a liar, as was Jibhal. But so am I, and so is my son. When you keep company with liars, at some point you will be deceived.”
Seemed obvious to Achan. “And the Hadad deceived you?”
“Oh, yes. They all did. Jibhal played on my weaknesses from the start. Knew too much about me. Used that.”
Achan narrowed his eyes. “What did he know?”
“Everything.”
“Did you really find me in the fields near Sitna?”
“No. I pried you from your dead mother’s arms.”
The words jerked the ground out from beneath Achan’s feet. “You were there when the Hadad killed them?”
Another wheezy chuckle. “Jibhal lied, you see. Promised I’d be free if they were dead. Free from the anger and pain. Free to take my rightful place as king…” Lord Nathak coughed. “I was never free. And it nearly killed me.”
Achan could only stare. He could barely comprehend what he was hearing.
“I’ve explained this to my son time and again, but he never listens. He doesn’t understand the consequences.” Lord Nathak tugged a finger at the ties under his mask. They came loose, and he pulled off the mask and tossed it on the ground. The skin on the right side of his face was withered and smooth, like a dried apricot. A saggy eyelid hung over his empty socket.
A murmur tore through the crowd. Achan shrank back.
Lord Nathak fixed his good eye on Achan. “My son has let his obsession with you overtake him, as I once let my obsession with my father overtake me. It has been my ruin, just as you shall be Esek’s. You have the gods’ protection.” He removed his glove and held out his hand. “I’d like to show you my memories. It’s the best way for you to see the truth.”
Achan glanced at Sir Caleb. What do you think?
I don’t like it. What does Duchess Amal say?
Achan reached for the duchess again. My lady? Are you here?
I am, Your Highness. Macoun left me suddenly.
Can this request of