Desert World Allegiances (18 page)

A thought crossed his mind. “If Ben Gratu had come to the church and confessed this, would you have kept that secret?”

Even with his face in shadow, Temar could see Shan’s mouth come open and then close again a couple of times before he managed to find any words. “I would tell him that God knows we’re weak and he will forgive, but only if confession comes with a change in behavior. I would tell him he had to stop hurting you and turn custody back to the council.”

Temar laughed, but it turned into a sob, and for a second, he had to concentrate on controlling his breathing before his emotions overwhelmed him. “If he gave up custody, if I knew Cyla was safe, I’d turn him in.”

“And he’d have to face the consequences of his behavior,” Shan agreed.

“I’ve heard you speak, so I know you’re an intelligent man. You can’t really believe he’d do that.”

“No, I don’t. I’d tell him that was the only way to save his soul, though. I’d remind him that this life lasts a very short period of time, but that eternity is a long time to suffer, just because you refuse to face your own evil. I’d remind him that everyone makes a mistake eventually, and that he would be caught, so it would go easier on him if he came forward on his own.”

“And when that failed?”

Shan leaned back and seemed to think on that for some time. “I’d shoot him,” he finally answered.

Temar didn’t have an immediate response to that.

“Before I’d allow an innocent person to suffer, I would shoot him and deal with the damage I’d done to my own soul.”

“That’s not a very priestly answer.”

“I’m not always a very good priest, but I try to be a good man. Right now, I’m feeling like a stupid man because I don’t understand why you would suddenly decide to go back to Ben. If you wanted to kill Ben, that, I could understand. I would tell you that justice would be better left to the council or God, but I would understand.”

Temar swallowed, hope and an overwhelming urge to run sticking in his throat, but he had to do what was right, not only for him but for Cyla. It wasn’t like Ben could hurt him more than he already had. There was a limit to how much pain a body could take without it showing in the morning, and Temar knew Ben wouldn’t cross that line. “I’m trusting you to get to Cyla, to protect her and find some evidence. But if I go with you, by the time you have evidence, by the time you convince anyone that the almighty Ben Gratu is a monster, my sister will be dead. I can’t buy my freedom with her death.”

“Ah.” Shan sighed the word as he leaned back. For long minutes, there was silence. Temar didn’t know why he continued to sit near the entrance of the cave. He should leave. He should do what he knew he had to. At least now he could lie next to Ben and wait for the coming rescue. That would make it much easier to endure.

“Temar,” Shan said slowly, “you know Ben’s smart. He’s an immoral man, and while it’s not very priestly of me to say this, I suspect he’s condemned his soul to hell, but you have to admit he’s smart. He’s not going to do anything suspicious.” Shan leaned forward and looked Temar right in the eye.

“I know that, but he said he’d kill her.” Temar remembered Ben’s joyful expression as he held him down and called to arrange Cyla’s slavery… called to arrange her death, if Temar tried to fight.

“He probably will, but not yet. You’re alone, you have no shoes and no equipment. He knows you aren’t a threat unless you go to the council.”

“And I could be doing that right now. He’ll kill her before I have a chance to talk to them.”

“If he had her killed, it would make the council suspicious. The thing he used to threaten you came true. Temar, stop and think. What would be the smarter play?”

Temar gasped as the reality came together like hot glass merging. “He’ll keep her alive. If they ask her if Ben ever threatened her, she’ll say ‘no’. Her words will condemn me.”

“You’ll look twice as crazy,” Shan agreed. “I made a promise, and I’ll keep it, but we can’t just sit here. We have to make a move. Now Div could get us food, water, and clothes, and given some time, he could get us some transportation over to Red Plain. We could make sure Cyla is safely back in council custody, and then we can start questioning people. We might even go to the communication relay station. If Ben is doing something with water, he has to move it. That means he has to be using the terraforming pipes, and the station will have the blueprints.”

“What proof do we have? I’ll end up looking crazy, and they’ll just say you drank a little too much pipe juice, trying to get off the desert.”

“I did drink a little too much pipe juice.” Shan got a crooked grin on his face, and the expression made him look like a kid stealing cookies from a jar. “But Cyla can confirm that Ista had entire boards of computer chips, including mother chips. There are very few of those down here, and every single one is accounted for. If we start questioning people, I get the feeling that we’re going to find out that no one pulled their mother chip for cleaning the day I was in Red Plain, so that’s a lead. God Almighty, that’s probably why she tried to have me killed, because Ben is not the sort to panic and order me killed when I don’t know enough to even bother looking twice at those computer chips.”

“We can’t go to the council,” Temar said firmly.

“They have all the resources to investigate this.”

“Can you really tell me for sure that Lilian Freeland isn’t involved? She and Ben Gratu have known each other for decades. And if they’re willing to kill you, what will stop them from killing Div? I had to live with thinking that you died because I had some stupid plan to tip you off about Ben. I sent you out there searching for answers, and they tried to kill you.” Temar could feel the memory of that cold guilt claw at him. “I thought they had killed you. How would you feel, finding Div at the bottom of the stairs with his neck broken because we went to him for help?” Temar knew he’d won, just from the expression on Shan’s face. They’d both escaped one trap, but they could still feel the edges of the larger trap all around, and one wrong move and people would die.

“We still need help,” Shan said firmly, but he didn’t look happy about it. Maybe that meant that he was finally understanding the reality that Temar had already grasped—Ben Gratu was a man whose power reached farther than any of them had ever suspected. “We need to go to Naite.”

“Naite Polli?” Temar could hear his own voice squeak with disbelief. Naite was a man who loved his rules above all, so he was the last on the list of names Temar would try.

“I know he’s not involved. The stick he has up his—” Shan cut himself off. “I clearly need to stay away from pipe trap juice. It makes me uncharitable. However, my brother would cut off his own arm before he would be involved with murder, and that is not an exaggeration. Besides, as an unskilled worker, Naite wasn’t valuable enough to bother trying to manipulate until recently, and he’s only been on the council for one season. Besides, manipulating Naite is like trying to convince a boar to pull a plow. There’s every reason to trust him, and more importantly, we won’t be able to do this alone.”

Temar chewed on his lip, uncomfortable with telling more people because every new person was a new threat, and he did not want to know how Ben would react to being threatened. Finally, he nodded his head. They’d tell Naite.

Chapter 14

T
HE
Kelligan farm had long rows of verdant corn, rising from the ground, like wisps of grass in the shade of the darker amaranth, with their broad leaves. The cliff face offered very little shelter here, and there was a long strip of gravel where the rock met the fields. A few tiny pipe trap plants had thrown up pale leaves through the gravel and sand, but otherwise the strip was as barren as a moon. They had to run from one boulder to another as they tried to get closer to the farm where Naite was working… hopefully. Temar still thought this was a bad idea, but he didn’t have a better one.

“I could—” Shan started to say.

“No.” Temar crouched down so his nightshirt would cover more. He knew exactly what Shan was offering, but he would wait until they had a knife sharp enough for him to cut the rope himself. He didn’t need any more pity out of Shan. And if Shan saw the belt marks on his back and ass, pity would fill those dark eyes.

Shan sighed, but he didn’t say anything else. He leaned back against the boulder and pulled a pale pipe-trap leaf up. The plant was so young that it hadn’t yet developed its underground trap or started producing poison, so only a long, thin root came up with it. Shan started twisting it into knots.

So far, no one seemed to be searching the valley, but Temar had to fight an urge to just flee at top speed. Or, since he didn’t have shoes, flee slowly by picking his way over the rocks. When the council arrested someone, they always took a person’s shoes, and after a day of trying to cover the two miles between the cave where they’d spent the night and this far edge of the Kelligan farm, Temar understood why. The lack of shoes was a larger handicap than his bound hands.

Actually, he was starting to regret not taking Shan up on an offer to share his shoes, each wearing them for part of the day. However, once Temar had turned down the offer, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Shan he’d changed his mind. Temar rocked forward onto his toes to take his weight off his left heel, with its deep bruise. Maybe his pride needed to take a backseat to his abused feet. “If Naite doesn’t come out here—”

“Then he’s not working this farm,” Shan said firmly. “He walks the perimeter every night. It’s a ritual with him, as important to him as communion.”

Temar leaned against the warm boulder. His heel was slowly throbbing. Temar could really not imagine why anyone would walk the perimeter of a farm unless he had a slave owner standing behind him, making him. After working next to Ben and seeing how much workers had to do on a farm running at full production—something Temar’s farm had never done—Temar couldn’t imagine anything other than collapsing in exhaustion when the work was over. An unskilled worker’s life was hard enough without picking out more work to do on his own time, and even if Temar could figure out a way not to end up back in Ben’s bed, this was going to be his life. He had no training, and he had committed the crime of water theft.

Shan made an unhappy noise. “I just really hope we don’t have to walk to the Sulli place. If we do, we’re going to get you set up back at the cave, and then I’ll run over there.”

“Alone?” Temar got a firm hold on the fear that was suddenly rising. “No, if we need to go to the Sulli farm, we’ll go together.”

Shan turned around and looked at him. For several seconds, Shan was silent, and Temar could feel his frustration rising. Yeah, he was being unreasonable. He’d never make it that far, but he had the right to try.

It took some time, but Shan finally answered in a soft voice, “You don’t even have shoes.”

Temar flinched back and let his gaze drift over to a spire of white rock that rose from the ground. He hated fighting… hated it with a passion. However, since being in Ben’s bed, he hated the idea of being told what to do. He hated the idea of going back to the cave and staying there alone. And he hated the idea of having to cross the wide valley floor to reach the Sulli farm. Actually, he hated a lot of things, which probably wasn’t all that healthy. He refused to say anything. Long seconds dragged past in silence.

“If we cross at night, we can probably stay on the path, where you don’t need shoes,” Shan conceded. Temar nodded without answering. After that, the evening turned into a long, dusty wait.

A buteo cried sharply as it circled and then landed on its nest in the cliff face, far above them. Even after it landed, Temar could hear its cries echoing against the rock, and he wondered if the bird was trying to find a mate or if it had come home to find sandrats had eaten the eggs. Temar was in such a dark mood that he could just picture the broken shells, the carefully tended nest slick and yellowed from the broken yolk. Eventually the bird quieted, and the air started to cool. The late winds blew sand over the wide mouth of the valley. The protective screen would catch any rare sand that managed to slip between the rock cliffs, so they were safe. However, the sandstorm blocked the dying rays of sun, so the night fell faster than Temar expected.

“We could steal some water and head over to the Sulli place tonight,” Shan offered softy. They were the first words either of them had spoken in a long time. Temar shifted around to stretch a leg that had fallen asleep.

“Do you think it’s dark enough?”

“Probably not for a while.” The silence came again, settling into the cracks and crevasses until Temar squirmed with a need to do or say something—he just didn’t know what. Shan sat by the rock, perfectly still. “I think someone’s coming,” Shan whispered.

Boredom snapped into pure fear so fast that Temar lost his ability to breathe for a precious half minute. Moving slowly, he edged closer to Shan. Now he wished he had his hands free. It was stupid to leave himself helpless instead of letting Shan see a few whip marks. The man could certainly imagine what Ben had been doing, and the whip was the least of the humiliations.