Self-Made Scoundrel (8 page)

“With our households joined, we now have enough metal. Both of your towns have priestesses we can trust to be on our side. With Ceric as the spiritual adviser of Dershik we will have the discretion needed to undertake this project.” His father looked to him, his eyes bright and keen, stifling all of the questions Dershik wanted to ask. What about Kiyla? And Cira? Coinage? The Church controlled the coin as a way to relieve the Barons of the burden and keep balance within the region. The Church didn’t pay taxes. They were an objective third party when it came to the economy of the Valley. And now his father wanted to remove them.

Dershik felt sick. He listened as his father gave figures, named locations and listed the order in which the other Barons would be approached. “Ceric is our man on the inside, able to ascertain who among the clergy will work with us. They keep it under their beds but there are factions within the clergy. We can use this to our gain.” Dershik glanced to Ceric. His brother looked ashamed.

“If all goes according to plan, we can go from the Sword and the Seat to the Crown and the Coin,” his father said, looking to Dershik. Hope shone in his eyes. “A sword is a cruel thing with which to rule. With your help and our careful planning, the Cartaskin household will establish a throne and a legacy in the Ten Crescents, ruled not with the wisdom of religion like Haran or the whims of its Barons. It will be a proper country with all of us helping to establish it as a small but great nation, something to pass on to our children and our children’s children.” Now the old men all looked to each other. They all had ambition on their faces. Dershik tried to keep the terror off his own face.

“Do I have your oaths and your hand, as well as your secrecy?” his father asked.

“You have all three of these from me, my lord and future king,” Jerila’s father said very quickly, putting his hand to his forehead in salute.

“And from me, my lord and future king,” said Gedrix.

“I as well.” Now all the older men looked to Dershik, seeming to ignore Ceric for the moment.

Dershik didn’t know what to do or say. It sounded like blasphemy, but was it? A king? There had been a king in Haran but he was a King and the High Priest, head of the Holy Family. There was no Family here, only the Goddess and she needed no consort, no husband. She took on as she desired. If Dershik agreed, he was agreeing to be the future king of the Valley and he wanted that even less than he wanted to be the Baron. But if there was no legacy…there was no use standing up to him now. Dershik would find another way.

“Yes,” Dershik said, trying to sound as confident as he knew his father wanted him to be. Darix Cartaskin actually looked surprised for a breath, then pleased. Dershik was relieved to have his father turn his attention to his brother.

“Of course, my lord,” Ceric said. His voice squeaked when he spoke. Dershik turned to Ceric as well, glaring at his brother. Once again his brother seemed to know more than he did. Keeping an eye on other members of the clergy as well as agreeing to take the place of Cira. What would Dershik have left?

“You all know what is at stake. We must all do our parts. Strength from Within,” his father concluded. He smiled broadly and except for the silver in his hair and the wrinkles at his eyes, Darix Cartaskin seemed the same young man Dershik remembered from his boyhood. He himself felt like a little boy, playing underfoot while the adults carried on their business. How long would he be forced under the table? As the old men came together to talk about less serious matters, Dershik slipped out of the room, needing fresh air.

“Derry!” His brother called after him, chasing him down the hall. There were servants in the halls, swapping the tapestries on the walls for the newer ones. They featured the maned bear of the house with the silver fish in its mouth. Dershik wanted to rip them all down, but he concentrated on ignoring Ceric and made for the stairs.

“Derry!” Ceric called again, louder. Dershik ducked into the staircase and took a step down before finally Ceric caught up, panting and tired.

“Don’t call me that any more!” Dershik snapped. He felt the tension in his jaw, the anger in him grow. “We’re not children anymore. And I’m through with you.”

“What? Why?!” Ceric called, following him down the steps. Dershik growled and spun around, grabbing his brother by his robes. He slammed him against the wall and pinned him there.

“You hem chewer, you knew father meant to get Cira out of here and put you at the head of the temple. Like you could ever lead anyone. Like I need you.”

“Der-ick” Ceric croaked. It almost sounded funny, except his face was terrified and his skin was changing colors. He tried to speak but couldn’t, Dershik crushing his throat with his arm. He just flailed his arms at his sides. Dershik held him there a breath longer than he would have liked to before he released him, watching as he gasped for air.

Faster than thought, Ceric punched Dershik so hard he almost fell down the stairs. “You stupid fapper, you don’t get it. I have to stay here. To be by them. I need them.” It sounded like a plea, like it was begging. But it just made Dershik more angry.

“I hate you. You’re just as bad as our father, keeping secrets from me, sneaking about and taking everything people give to you, just piling it up for yourself! Chew Her Hems, you greedy slave!”

“If the world wasn’t run by asses like you and father, I could take for myself!” Ceric shouted, his face red, his eyes shining with anger and tears.

“Well, take this,” Dershik spat, making an obscene gesture at him. “I hope you die as miserable as I am now, and as lonely. To Her Hems with you.” Dershik tried to ignore the look of anguish on Ceric’s face, but even when he turned and walked away from him he saw it, the pain, how lonely he felt. He tried to push it out of his mind and he remembered words he had said as a younger man, a less angry man. “We have enough to deal with as it is, we don’t need to fight each other.” And what had he just done? He considered going back to Ceric and begging for his forgiveness, but if Ceric said the wrong thing he might blow up at him again. Worse, Dershik could run into their father and he didn’t want to see him, not now.

Dershik walked through the keep, ignoring the greetings of anyone he came across. Through the kitchen, under the overhang, past the clucking chickens and the herb gardens. The stable was open of course. Ripple had been put out to pasture now, retired, and Eddy waited to be saddled and ridden, the blue roan stallion already pawing at the ground. Dershik shooed the servants away and saddled the horse himself, leading the snuffling beast out toward the gardens that lay to the north of the keep.

Servants shouted as he galloped the horse through the field, trampling the ornamental flowers. Dershik just laughed and whooped, standing in his stirrups and shouting encouragement to the beast. He rode the horse till they reached the woods, still in eyesight of the keep but far enough away they couldn’t see him. There was a small stream here he knew of and so he tied the horse up close to drink, pulling out the food he had taken from the kitchen and shoved in the saddlebag. There were a few carrots there for the horse and Dershik handed them over, scratching the horse on the cheeks as it snorted with happiness.

Dershik was about to sit down and enjoy his stolen food when something caught his eye. He blinked, wondering if the failing light was playing a trick on him, but he scrambled up from the ground and walked over.

A large tree about as wide as his torso, off the path but close enough to the stream he could find it. It was unremarkable except for the fact that close to its base, it was hollow. Big enough to hide a few things. Dershik put his hand inside. A pack would easily fit in here. A set of boots. And the stream could be followed. The recent memory of the accusations he made to his brother still stung. And he knew their father was serious about going through with his fashioning of a Throne instead of a Seat. The tree was here, as well as a way out. Dershik could give one more thing to his brother, especially if it meant taking away from the Baron who would take from them all.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” Jerila said one evening. They ate supper in their room and Dershik held Deril in the crook of his arm. Dershik brought a spoon of stew to his mouth, the baby waving his arms at the food in acknowledgment.

“Maybe because the weather’s getting better. I like the summer,” Dershik said. A chubby hand smacked him on the cheek, scratching his beard. Dershik looked down into the dark blue eyes, sticking his tongue out at Deril, who cooed. “You’ll like the summer too,” he said to the babe. “Maybe you can go swimming. Or just play in the garden and eat all of Gia’s herbs, you’d like that.”

“He shouldn’t be eating herbs,” Jerila laughed, reaching over the table. Dershik set down his spoon and held the baby under his armpits, handing him over. “Only milk for little Deril, right?” Jerila cradled the baby in one arm, quickly bringing the baby to her breast so they could both eat at the same time. “Is Ceric back from Whitfield yet?”

“He should be back at the end of the phase,” Dershik said, managing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She asked him every day the last two phases. That and the constant reminder his brother had someone to love him wore at him. Ceric had been called back for testing and his father was paranoid they might assign his brother to another church. Dershik was worried as well, but he managed to put on a nonchalant face, which seemed to make his father more worried. Dershik thought about the clothes hidden under the tree, the cards lying on the nightstand. “Jerila,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Do you love my brother?”

Jerila looked up with a start, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. She nodded, a small gesture barely moving her head, her eyes set on his. “Of course I do. You know this.” Jerila stared down at the baby after she said it.

“Would you do anything for him?” Dershik asked. He sat back in his chair and waited for her reaction and response. She must have started thinking about what that might entail exactly, because she looked down to the table, her eyes moving back and forth as she searched over scenarios in her mind. Jerila sat up straight in her chair, shifting the baby in her arms.

“Yes, I would. And I am.” She wasn’t accusing Dershik of anything, nor did he fault her for anything. Her father had decided an alliance with the Baron would be best cemented by willing his mines to his grandson and not his daughter. If she was complicit, so was he.

“You are good for him, you know that,” Dershik mused. He pushed his grains around his plate with his spoon, wondering what was being cooked in the kitchen right now. “You remember what he was like, as a boy. So nervous. Now he’s more sure of himself, more ambitious.”

“More melancholy,” she said. Jerila moved the baby to her lap and patted him on the back. She looked at Dershik, tilting her head to the side. “And what about you? I remember you when you were young. You’ve changed as well.”

“Taller, stronger,” he offered. “And I eat bloodroot now, I couldn’t stand it when I was little.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she laughed. The baby burped loudly. Dershik watched as she held the baby to her, the little boy moving his head around to look about the room. Jerila put a diaper on her shoulder to soak anything the baby might spit up and looked to Dershik again. “You used to be so…you loved everything, you were so enthusiastic. You used to love playing, ‘Lead the Party.’ I remember you used to say, ‘When I’m Baron, we’ll have honeybread for breakfast, not porridge,’ or other things.”

“I was a child,” he huffed. “These are the kinds of things children do.”

“Everyone looked up to you,” she said. “Ceric most of all.”

“Even after I locked him in the tunnel on the second floor,” Dershik sighed, remembering. “I told him if he would just come with me, he would be safe. There were books in there, old ones I wanted him to see.” Dershik shook his head, the memory old but still clear. He remembered grabbing Ceric by the shoulders and throwing him into the small space, holding the door closed with his back while Ceric pounded and screamed, his voice muffled by the wood between them.

“He was scared of the dark for a long time after that,” Jerila said. Now she sounded as if she was chastising him.

“Jerila,” he said, standing up from his seat. “Would you believe me if I said…I do love my brother? And I do care for you. And Deril.” He gripped the back of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he thought of what to say. “And anything I do? It’s not just for selfish reasons. I am not a selfish person.” They stared at each other for a breath. He thought Jerila would say something but she didn’t. He wasn’t sure if she agreed with him or not but he knew what was true. Dershik grabbed his cloak from the peg beside the door and left. He had lamp oil to store in the abandoned stable.

It was difficult to pick the person who would be his stand in, to realize his options. This part of the plan was the hardest. If he was to fake his own death, there would have to be a body, and obviously not his own. Bodies took hours to burn down to bones, so a pile of bones would look suspicious. He would need flesh. Dershik listened and asked questions of the servants he gambled with. Most had families, loved ones also working in the keep, people he had grown up with. But rumors were going around about one of the newer servants. A lamp keeper everyone called Fil had been jailed in the Tyeskin territory for violent behavior. He was quiet and kept to himself though he did frequent the card and dice games wherever they were held around the keep. Fil did like to drink and gamble. And he was of a height and build with Dershik, which sealed his fate.

The day Dershik decided to enact his plan he finally went to see Cira. His mind went back and forth, regarding the wisdom of his decision, but if he followed through he would never see her again. His feet seemed heavy as he walked to the temple, memories he had made with her playing through his mind, conversations they’d shared. Dershik remembered all the disappointment he had revealed to her, all the secrets of his heart and how he held back these last few years. He wondered if she would miss him once she thought he was dead. Would she cry? But then he began thinking about the real man who would die and it turned his thoughts away from phantom pity. He took a deep breath before he put his hand on the door and pushed it open.