“Your wicked imagination exceeds my ability to think of prohibitions,” said Father Ver. “Let us keep this simple. I gave my word to the king that I will not kill you. I’ve made no vow that would prohibit me from cutting out your blasphemous tongue. Attempt to escape again and I swear you will never utter another lie.”
The Deceiver glared at Father Ver with a mix of hatred and terror, then nodded slowly, indicating he understood. Father Ver let go of the man’s chin and wiped his gore-drenched hands on his victim’s red robes, looking disgusted. He glanced toward the sky as Lord Tower drifted down toward them. Aurora was still clamped onto his chest; her hair had come undone from its top knot and lay against her scalp in a chaotic tangle.
She looked a bit wobbly as Tower set her on the ground.
“You believed his lie, ogress,” grumbled Father Ver, without looking at her. “Your pagan faith makes you an easy target for his falsehoods. If he speaks to you again, feel free to break his jaw.”
Before Aurora could reply, Lord Tower looked down at the semi-conscious Deceiver and said, “Why would he try something like this? Even if he’d reached the sea, we could have stopped him at any time.”
“Not without this,” said Father Ver, holding up the small book.
Tower reached both hands to his hip, popping open a compartment in his armor exactly the right size to hold the book. He stared silently at the emptiness within. “By the sacred quill,” he mumbled. “How did…? When could he…?”
“The Deceiver fails to respect reality itself,” Father Ver said. “It would have been a simple matter for him to become a master pickpocket.” The priest cast a glance toward Reeker. “You were supposed to keep this from happening.”
Reeker shrugged. “He caught me by surprise.”
“Of course it was a surprise!” Father Ver shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “Did you think he would be considerate enough to send you a detailed letter explaining his plan? Are all half-seeds half-wits as well?”
Reeker’s eyes flashed with anger as he drew back his shoulders and pressed his lips into a pucker. Menagerie nodded toward No-Face. The giant man’s hand clamped over the skunk-man’s mouth.
Menagerie said, “This is twice I’ve had to apologize for my colleague’s behavior. I assure you, there will not be a third incident. For now, he’s going to go help gather up what gear we can find from Aurora’s pack. He won’t grumble while he’s doing it. Right?”
No-Face lowered his hand. Reeker swallowed his pride and whatever else he might have been holding in his mouth, then said, “Sure, boss.” Then, to Father Ver, “Won’t happen again.”
Lord Tower scanned the treetops, paying no attention to Infidel and Relic as they joined the rest of the party. Relic was limping more than usual; his whole body was wracked with tremors. Infidel was holding his arm, supporting him.
Lord Tower sighed. “Since we aren’t under attack right now, maybe Greatshadow didn’t notice this incident. Perhaps the worst that has come from this is that our supplies are scattered halfway back to the sea. We’re going to lose the rest of the day gathering them.” He looked at Menagerie. “I need more than just Reeker on the job. You’ll all help recover the gear.”
Menagerie nodded. “We’re on it. I can work the treetops as a monkey.”
Tower turned to Father Ver. “While Zetetic’s stunt has cost us time, it’s also proof that he has skills no one else brings to the mission. Help him get cleaned up and stitch his wounds.”
Father Ver’s left eye began to twitch. He looked as if he was about to explode, but he said, softly, “As you wish.”
Lord Tower looked down at the Deceiver, who had managed to sit up. The beaten man probed his bloodied mouth with his fingers, wincing as he pulled out a broken molar. The knight said, “Before you fell into heresy, you earned renown as a scholar. Some priests tell me you were the smartest man they’d ever met. How can you be dumb enough to pull a stunt like this? Even if you’d escaped with the book, you would not be free. Should ten days pass without word from me, the monks will initiate the X sanction. You understand the consequences?”
The Deceiver nodded. His wet voice whistled as he said, “I undershtand the damned conshequencesh.”
Tower turned back to the others. “Let’s get busy. Goons, gather gear. Blade, I need you to… to…” His voice trailed off as he looked around the clearing. He turned to Father Ver and asked, “Where are Blade and the Whisper?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I can follow their scent,” said Menagerie, shifting into the form of a wolf. His voice was a yelping growl as he said, “I’ll take the War Doll for back up, assuming it can act independently. It’s the only one with a chance to keep up with me.”
“Agreed,” said Relic, his voice still weak.
“There’s no need for a search party. Blade won’t run forever,” said Father Ver. He didn’t sound apologetic for having caused the problem. “Once he trips, or runs into something, he’ll return to his senses.”
“Given Blade’s agility, he might run a long time,” said Lord Tower, as he rose into the sky. “With the thickness of this canopy, I’ll never spot him from the air. Menagerie’s plan is a sensible one. I’ll help gather gear while they’re gone.”
Stay with me, Blood-Ghost, thought Relic. I dare not look into the Deceiver’s mind again. You must watch him with complete vigilance.
The Deceiver didn’t look as if he was going start mischief anytime soon. Father Ver knelt before him, examining the man’s torn face. Zetetic was oddly passive as the priest reached out to touch a gash on his upper lip. “This will require stitches,” Ver said. “It will hurt.”
Menagerie sniffed the ground, then bounded up the trail at breakneck speed with Infidel at his heels. Or rather, his paws. I looked at Relic and said, “I go where she goes.” I spun around before he could answer and surrendered myself to the tug of the knife in her boot sheath. My ghostly feet lifted from the ground and I flew after them far more swiftly than I could have run.
A mile up the trail, the wolf slowed to sniff the ground next to a shallow stream. The vegetation here thickened again due to the presence of the water, and I searched the dense foliage in vain for any sign of Blade. Infidel caught up a few seconds later, panting heavily. Even with her strength, running a mile uphill in the furnace-like heat was no easy task.
“I thought you might like a chance to talk,” said Menagerie in his wolf-yips. “It’s got to be killing you keeping quiet around those assholes.”
“It’s not all that tough,” Infidel said. “It’s not like I’m eager to chat with any of them.”
“I find Father Ver moderately entertaining,” said Menagerie, pausing to take a few laps from the stream. “Have you noticed that he and the Deceiver seem to have exactly the same power? They both say things that aren’t true and make them come true.”
“Actually,” said Infidel, “the Deceiver’s power is less creepy. He says things that change himself. The Truthspeaker says things to change others.”
“Creepy or not, I could have laughed my ass off when Reeker had to hold his tongue. I went into the wrong line of business with blood magic. I’d trade all my tattoos for the ability to shut Reeker up whenever I wanted to.”
“I thought you guys were friends,” said Infidel.
The wolf shrugged. “I’m not in a career where it pays to have friends. The people I grow close to have a depressing tendency to die. Reeker and No-Face are my companions chiefly because they’ve proven themselves as survivors.”
Infidel pressed her lips tightly together and swallowed hard.
“You okay?” asked Menagerie.
“Just thinking about Stagger,” said Infidel. “He’d still be alive if he hadn’t been my friend.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” said Menagerie.