Fey 02 - Changeling (80 page)

I blocked them
, Coulter said.

With a wall?

Adrian put his head in his hands.
 
He was already too late.

FORTY-TWO

The door closed behind Nicholas.

Matthias collapsed against the wall, and slid toward the floor.
 
His feet wouldn't hold him any more.
 

He had thought he was going to die.
 
He had thought Nicholas was going to kill him.

Matthias's back ached, his heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe. He was bleeding, too.
 
He could feel the blood running down his skin.
 
He had touched his back and his fingers came away bloody.
 

Damn Nicholas.
 
Damn them all.

The door had barely closed when it opened again.
 
Two Auds came in, the Auds he had assigned as guards.

Seeing him like this.
 
So weak and frightened.

"Get out," he said, his voice still strong.

"But Holy Sir," one of the Auds said, "we had to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine," he said.
 
"Get out."

"Holy Sir —"

"Get out!
 
This is a place of private worship.
 
I am praying.
 
Get out."

The Auds backed out and closed the door.
 
He leaned his head against the wall and caught the faint odor of blood mixed with the scent of the river.
 
Blood.
 
His blood.

He would have to get someone to look at that wound.

Nicholas.
 
That arrogant boy.
 
Telling Matthias that he was more of a believer than Matthias was.

Neither of them believed.

Perhaps that was the problem.

Matthias took a deep breath.
  
It was difficult.
 
He had been breathing shallowly since Nicholas arrived.
 
The fear had nearly overwhelmed him.
 

That was the second time in two days he had been afraid for his life.

The second time he had not turned to the Holy One for help.

He shook his head.
 
The 50th Rocaan had never been a scholar.
 
He probably hadn't remembered the stories that separated the church, even when Matthias had brought them up.
 
He probably thought unbelief a problem that Matthias could solve.

But he couldn't.
 
If anything his disbelief was getting worse.

There was a knock and before he could answer, the door opened.

The Aud guard stood there with a Danite.

Young Titus, the one who had brought Nicholas down.

Titus, the believer.
 
Matthias had envied him for so many years.
 
Envied the boy's belief.

"See?" the Aud whispered.
 
"The blood?"

"I told you to get out," Matthias said to the Aud.

"Forgive me, Holy Sir, but —"

"He asked me to see you," Titus said.
 
He nodded at the Aud, then pulled the door closed.
 
"You're bleeding, Holy Sir.
 
He was worried for your health."

"My health is fine."
 
It was his strength that wasn't.
 
He couldn't take many more shocks to his system.

"Beg pardon, Holy Sir, but a man is not fine when he leaves a bloody smear along the wall."

"Young Nicholas thought to teach me a lesson."
 
Matthias smiled.
 
As if Nicholas could teach him anything.
 
Nicholas had been his pupil and a poor pupil at that.

"And did he, Holy Sir?" Titus remained by the door.
 
His head was unadorned and he wore no shoes, proclaiming himself in the world of Danites as a true believer.
 
His black robe was spotless.

"No."
 
Matthias had to get up.
 
He had to show Titus he was all right.
 

Matthias put a hand on the cold stone floor and pushed.
 
His feet slid from under him, and he almost fell.
 
Titus crossed the room quickly and crouched beside Matthias.

"I'm fine," Matthias said.

"You're bleeding."

"A little," Matthias said.
 
"Nothing serious."

"You let me see."
 
Titus had stopped using formal titles.
 
He moved to Matthias's right side and twisted Matthias's robe, touching him more intimately than anyone had touched him in a long time.
 
"I can't see — oh, here it is."

Matthias closed his eyes.
 
The area around the wound throbbed.
 
Titus's fingertips made the throbbing worse.

"It's small," Titus said.
 
"Just deep enough.
 
What did he do?"

Matthias knew that Titus wouldn't leave him alone until he told.
 
"He used the tip of his knife to remind me of his anger."

Titus nodded.
 
"You're lucky, Holy Sir.
 
He could have killed you."

"He wouldn't have killed me."

"Nothing is certain in this world any more," Titus said.
 
Something in his tone made Matthias open his eyes.
 
Titus still crouched beside him, his fingertips stained with Matthias's blood.
 
The blood was a light red.
 

"You don't approve of me, do you?"
 
Matthias regretted the question the moment he asked it.
 
But he was so alone and so exhausted.
 
He wanted something, a crumb of anything, even if it was begged-for affection.

"I believe murder holds no place in the high ceremonies of this church."
 
Titus sat down, grabbed the hem of his robe, and ripped.
 

"Murder?" Matthias asked.
 
How could everyone think the death of a Fey murder?

"The death of the queen should never have happened."

"It was God's will," Matthias said.

"If God had willed it, she and the first child would have died at birth."
 
The hem of Titus's robe came off all the way along the bottom.
 
Strands hung around his pale hairy legs.
 
He took the ripped portion of the robe and held it out.
 
"Forgive me, Holy Sir, but I think we need to bind that wound to staunch the bleeding."

Matthias leaned forward.
 
The stretch pulled the skin along his back, making him wince at the pain.
 
Titus wrapped the hem around him about Matthias's sash and pulled tight.
 
"My," Matthias managed.
 
"It might stop my breathing as well."

"It will help.
 
I volunteered to work with the wounded during the Invasion.
 
Yours is a small wound."

Matthias heard the implications behind Titus's words.
 
Trivial.
 
Unimportant.
 
The suffering you proclaim is an act to give you sympathy.
 
Perhaps it was.
 

"Forgive me, Holy Sir, if I speak out of turn, but you could have died this afternoon.
 
You nearly died last night.
 
I heard parts of your discussion with King Nicholas.
 
He is right.
 
You need to pick a successor.
 
Someone else needs to know the Secrets."

The Secrets, the Secrets.
 
Didn't anyone care about him?
 
Matthias sat up.
 
The hem was tight across his ribcage.
 

"I thought you didn't believe in church-sanctioned death," Matthias said.
 
Deep breaths hurt.

"I am not thinking of holy water," Titus said.
 
"That's an entirely different discussion."

For a Danite, he had no fear.
 
Titus was half Matthias's age, and had one quarter the experience, yet he felt he could lecture Matthias.

"It's the same discussion," Matthias said.
 
"Whoever possesses the Secrets knows how to defeat the Fey."

Titus leaned back.
 
The blood had dried dark on his fingertips.
 
"They say, in the Aud dormitories, that your scholarship enabled the 50th Rocaan to use the holy water as a weapon."

Matthias shook his head.
 
"It was an accident, that discovery."

"But the decision to use the water after that accident, after that discovery, was made because you argued for it.
 
You used the Words Written and Unwritten to show the Rocaan how to justify the use."

"Justify," Matthias said.
 
"How do you know that the Roca didn't leave us the water for just this reason?"

"You twist logic well, Holy Sir, but logic doesn't always serve the faithful."

The throbbing had settled into a dull ache.
 
"Don't paraphrase the Words to me," Matthias said.
 
"Sometimes one must use logic to understand the Words."

"No," Titus said.
 
"One must use faith.
 
If it seems wrong to the heart, it is wrong.
 
You have used the holy water as a weapon, as a tool to commit murder.
 
Not just one death, but hundreds, rest at your feet.
 
The King was right to come to you.
 
His own logic was wrong."

"Nicholas was reacting.
 
He will understand what I did, in time."

"The King knew that peace is better than war.
 
It's a lesson that you might remember, Holy Sir."

"And you might remember that you are addressing the Rocaan, your leader."

"I do not believe you represent the Roca.
 
I do not believe you are Beloved of God.
 
I believe that the 50th Rocaan chose you because he believed he would return, and I think that's where he made his mistake.
 
He tried to make you his guarantee, thinking God would never allow a man like you to become 51st Rocaan, and God showed him otherwise.
 
'An arrogant man always suffers for his pride.'"

Matthias looked at Titus.
 
Titus's cheeks were flushed with a fervor that Matthias had never experienced.
 
"You're the one who is being arrogant now," Matthias said.
 
"You have no knowledge of the 50th Rocaan.
 
You were a child when he died."