The Proof House (74 page)

Bardas shook his head. ‘Don’t you dare say that,’ he said. ‘Don’t you ever try to make it sound like I’m like you.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Gorgas was almost laughing. ‘You left home to seek your fortune; that’s fine. All the money you made, you sent it home for Clefas and Zonaras; you were trying to look out for them, just like me. During the siege you were fighting for your city. On Scona - well, you had the right, that’s all I can say about that; but we were quits after that, and you know it. But since then; you, a soldier of the Empire? Do you sincerely believe in the manifest destiny of the Sons of Heaven?’

‘What about the Islanders?’ Bardas shouted. ‘Killed, enslaved, because of you—’

Gorgas shook his head. ‘By the Empire. The people you fight for. Please. And besides, none of it would have happened if Ap’ Escatoy hadn’t fallen; and who was it let the bull out of the pen? But that’s all right,’ Gorgas went on, speaking more softly. ‘You were doing a job, just like you were doing when you were with Uncle Maxen; a soldier’s not responsible for the wars he fights in, just as I’m not responsible for what the Empire did to the Islanders - or what Temrai did to the City. And besides—’ He made his horrible face into a smile. ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘we’re through with all of that now, both of us. Don’t you see? We can put it all behind us - dammit, if I’ve got one single virtue, it’s being realistic. We can’t put right any of the bad things we’ve done. Even trying to make up for them makes us do more bad things, worse things. There’s got to come a time when we say enough’s enough, it’s time to do something
else
; something worthwhile and decent and good. I tried that, Bardas; I tried to go home, to be what I always should have been, a hard-working farmer making an honest living out of our land. I tried to wind back the wheel, if you like - and what happened? Our home’s nothing but cold ashes and trash, everything ruined, burned and gone. And you - well. I don’t have to say it, do I?’

Bardas was actually shaking with anger. ‘Everything, ’ he said, ‘everything bad in the whole world, is your
fault.
All the bad things, the evil things I did, are
your fault
. And I’ll never forgive you. Never.’

‘Oh, Bardas.’ Gorgas was gazing at him, his face full of compassion. ‘Do you know, what you just said, in a way, that’s an act of love. All these years you’ve been letting me take away all the bad things you’ve done. You’ve allowed me to do that for you. And that’s fine; I’m glad about that. Now let me do this one last thing, for both of us. Let’s take all the evil away, shall we?’ He grinned, stretching the burns and the wounds that hid his face like a visor. ‘Let’s rid the world of the Loredan boys, for good and all. Now wouldn’t that be something, eh? Get the Loredan brothers out of harm’s way, where they can’t do any more damage. Can’t think of a single more altruistic act than that. Think of it; we’d be as good as dead and buried.’

(
It’s customary to die first; but in your case we’ll make an exception.
)

‘And anyway,’ Gorgas went on, still smiling, ‘it’s not as if you’ve got a choice. You’re too weak to fight me, or jump over the side. When we get there, as soon as I’ve got you and the stuff ashore, I’m going to soak down the decks with lamp-oil and set this old tub alight. You want to get off the island, you’re going to have to build yourself a boat.’

Bardas was having trouble breathing. ‘Or I could kill you,’ he said. ‘I could kill us both.’

‘You could,’ Gorgas conceded. ‘If you wanted to; and then we’d really be alike, you and me - except that my act of deliberate evil was at the beginning, and yours would be at the end. Is that what you want?’

‘No.’>

‘Thought not,’ Gorgas said cheerfully. ‘So it looks like we’re going to be doing it my way. It’s all right; if I take away the choice, you can carry on blaming me for everything. You can blame me when it rains, or when it doesn’t; you can blame me when the goats eat off the green corn, or the hayrick catches fire; I’ll be glad to take the blame, it’ll be like old times.’

‘No,’ Bardas said softly. ‘Gorgas, please.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Gorgas said (he was walking away; Bardas couldn’t see him any more). ‘I guess you’ve just got to trust me, Bardas. After all, I’m your big brother and I love you. And haven’t I always seen you right?’