Chapter Six Trust
The Prince began to plan. He was not naturally gifted at deception of performance, like his brother Tiffenal, who could convince twelve different political factions he was doing twelve different things and then end up doing a thirteenth; nor was he well suited to pure imaginative strategy like his brother Geofred, who was infamous for knowing the outcome of everything from a battle to a chess game within the first few seconds of action.
But detail… he was very good at detail.
He wasn’t exactly sure when it had come about, but ever since early childhood he’d had an uncanny ability to memorize, recite, and compile lists.
By the age of ten everything from trade ledgers to obscure farming laws were brought to him simply because he could read them, understand them, repeat them, and, most importantly, explain them.
Privately, he had always assumed it was part of the Raven Talisman, or more specifically because of what happened when he took a life.
He had been made to kill his first man at the age of five, as all the Children were, and when the man had died, all the memories of a forty-year life had come flooding into the Prince’s child’s mind.
He had been forced to expand in order to hold it all—all of that sensory detail, all of the memories, all of the thoughts and dreams and regrets accumulated over forty years of life.
The details were what made the memories important.
It was the moment he’d learned about murder, and starvation, and the life of a thief.
It was the moment he’d learned about what men and women did in closed rooms. But it wasn’t like he had learned it in a pleasantly illustrated book.
No, he had learned it through the smells, the sights, the sounds, the caresses.
It was as if he had been there—as if he had lived it.
The experience had left him in a semi-coma for the better part of a week, unable to speak, unable to relate to anyone around him, horrified by what life contained. Geofred liked to joke that he’d grown up that day, the oldest five-year-old the world had ever seen.
Later that same year he executed a rapist as part of his duties as a Prince, and was forced to relive the crime through the eyes and skin of the man who’d committed it, all the while feeling like it was he who had done it, he who had....
He shivered violently as the memories came back to him. He’d been sick for weeks afterward, but thank the Empress the memories all faded eventually.
Even the most brutal ones.
He could still feel bits of the memories of the Death Watch soldier he’d killed floating in the back of his mind, though in truth these were his memories of those memories.
Always an hour or so after a kill took place, the memories, the strength and speed, all of the person’s life, faded away and went to wherever such things go.
What was left was his impression of them, nothing more.
The Prince took a deep breath, the air chill in his lungs even though it was hot and stuffy underneath the hood, and banished the morbid reminiscing.
He needed a plan, and to make a plan he had to have all the details.
And to get all the details, he needed to get the shadow-cursed, light-forsaken, damnable hood off of his head.
He needed to see, to hear, to talk to the Exiles.
But how would he do that? They didn’t trust him. The girl certainly didn’t, not after what had happened with the Death Watch, how he had allowed them to ambush the three of them. Details. That was a detail, wasn’t it? Yes. She didn’t like him because she felt betrayed by him.
So to make her trust me, I need to prove it. She needs to feel safe with me. It can’t be about reason, she’s too distrusting. And to make her feel safe with me. I need to get her to talk to me.
Yes. Prove yourself to the girl, get her talking. Now, Tomaz.
The irony of course is that they can’t actually trust me, because I’m only earning their trust to betray them.
For some reason, this thought hurt the Prince.
Betrayal was evil, it was wrong and… but was this betrayal?
Betrayal would be to turn his back on his Mother and the other Children.
Family loyalty came first, and loyalty to the Empire, which was the source of all good in the land of Lucia.
Yes. To be loyal to them, this deception was necessary.
Tomaz. The Prince tilted his head again under the hood but failed to catch a glimpse of the big man.
Stifling his exasperation, he dropped his head, and as he did his eyes fell on the two black short swords they had commandeered from two dead Death Watch soldiers.
They were lashed down securely to the pack horse along with the supplies, and as he looked at them the image of Tomaz’s enormous greatsword came to mind; the huge swath of steel cutting through the shadows and flashing in the light as the Exile dueled and overcame the Death Watchman, saving the Prince’s life.
He’s a protector.
Yes. It all fit: the way he looked out for the girl, the way he was concerned with teaching the Prince manners, the way he’d jumped in front of a Death Watchman with no concern for his own safety. He related to people, empathized with them, and wanted them to be better.
He’ll need me to want to be a good person. He wants people to be good.
So the Prince began to make a plan, knowing that it was rudimentary at best, but that he had to commit to it. And that night, once they had eaten and he was once more bound to a small tree, he put the first part of it into play.
“I apologize for not telling you that the Death Watch was coming,” he said. He watched their reactions carefully, recording every tiny detail.
They both stiffened as he spoke.
“I was…” his voice caught unintentionally in his throat and he cleared it before pushing on. “I was wrong.”
Tomaz turned slowly to look at the girl, his face giving away nothing but his eyes quite clearly speaking volumes to her alone.
She looked back, her face also unreadable, and the Prince felt a flash of annoyance that he couldn’t pick up the slightest hint as to how either of them were feeling.
Tomaz looked back at the Prince, waiting for him to continue.
“You were right,” the Prince said, choosing his words carefully. “The Death Watch was sent after me. They followed and ambushed you in order to get to me. I also think… that it was my Mother who sent them.”
It was not a lie. He did believe that his Mother had sent them, but as a test, not to kill him.
Next he told them what the second Death Watchman had said to him while the girl had gone to get Tomaz.
He watched closely for their reactions, and this time they were more illuminating: the girl’s eyes flashed with surprise and then narrowed in suspicion before she smothered the emotions and returned to a blank calmness.
Tomaz, who had been squatting on the ground while sharpening his sword, slowly put the stone and the blade away and turned around completely to face him.
They were both staring at him with an intensity that was enough to make his stomach do a nervous somersault.
No, you’re fine. You’ve given nothing away. Go on.
“I understand that you want to take me to your people. I… will be honest with you. You saved me from the Death Watch, and I owe you a debt that makes me uneasy.”
That was true enough. More accurately it made him very uneasy, but they should be happy he was going to repay it by letting them go once he’d made it to the Seeker in Banelyn instead of coming back to hunt them down like the outlaws they were.
“And so I want to make a deal with you.”
“Excuse me?”
The girl stood up, looking offended, and the Prince was afraid he’d gone too far too fast. But before he could backtrack, Tomaz shifted his weight and held up a hand to stall her.
He was eyeing the Prince carefully, and the Prince knew that the giant’s desire to see good in people was preventing him from considering all the possibilities.
“I want to hear what he has to say, eshendai.”
“Ashandel, no, you can’t be serious!”
“Humor me, please?”
The Prince watched as the girl’s anger winked out and was replaced by the cold, dispassionate mask she wore more and more often around him.
“Fine,” she said.
The Prince swallowed and cleared his throat, making sure he always knew where her hands were in relation to her sheathed daggers, all too aware now of how lethal she was with them.
“I’ve… never been outside of Lucien before.”
The girl’s eyes widened ever so slightly and then narrowed; her hands balled into fists. What was that? Why was she angry at that? Shadows and light, even Symanta would have trouble understanding what went on in this girl’s twisted head!
“And I want to see the world,” he finished lamely. It was true. Of everything he was saying, this was true and always had been. “Until I woke up in that shack… uh… wooden cabin, I’d never seen the sun. Never smelled grass or… never mind. That’s not important.”
This time it was Tomaz who reacted: the big man stood up and turned away, slowly sheathing his sword and stowing away the whetstone he’d been using to sharpen it. He stood there silently for a moment, then turned back toward the Prince, who felt a moment of panic. What was the big man thinking?
“What’s the deal you wish to make?” the girl asked. Her voice sounded harsh and distant, but the Prince was familiar enough with her now to know that she was interested, or else she wouldn’t have spoken. It seemed that harsh and distant was just the way she sounded on basic principle.
Details. It was all about the details.
“I would like to travel without the hood.”
There was a long moment of silence, in which the Prince waited for one of them to speak. He hoped that he had phrased his request correctly. He was not, as a general rule, familiar with how one asks for permission.
“That’s all?”
The Prince looked at the Exile girl.
“Yes,” he said earnestly.