"Your father didn't like that?"
"He didn't know about her going to the Faith church. He'd probably have killed her for it. But he didn't like having a daughter instead of another son. He used to beat my mother and finally managed to do it to the degree that she couldn't have any more children."
Gabriella shivered, not sure she wanted to hear the rest of the tale. She knew it wasn't going to have a happy ending. Then again, if listening helped get Crowe on good terms with the Lord of All and the Final Faith, then it was a worthy act.
"So, he knew he wasn't going to be bringing up any more little Brothers. As far as he was concerned that meant mum was no more use to him. Neither was his daughter, so he sacrificed her for the cause." He paused, catching Gabriella's expression. "Not literally, love. He gave her up to some bloke who's wife was barren. And that bloke beat her to death in a drunken stupor because she wouldn't stay quiet enough for his liking. She was about fourteen — " His voice gave out and he took a deep swallow, blinking away the tears.
"Only fourteen years old," Gabriella echoed, aghast. "I… Don't know what to say, Crowe."
He shook the tears from his eyes. "No. Not years. Fourteen months. Fourteen months old. She'd barely even had time to learn to recognise her own name."
"Anyway, that was the last straw for my mother. She spoke to someone at the church. A Confessor, I suppose. She shopped my father for being a priest in the Brotherhood, and you can guess what happened next." Gabriella nodded. "The Swords paid a visit and took him away for morality crimes."
"They cleansed him." She wasn't asking a question; it was the standard fate for priests of the Brotherhood. The price they paid for twisting the religion of the Lord Of All.
"Yeah, Dez, and they burned him and all. And I can't say he didn't have it coming." He shrugged. "That's not what I've got against the Faith. Dad made out that my mother had done more to hide his affiliations than she had. And the Confessors believed it and they burned her in another gibbet right next to him. That was her reward from the Final Faith."
Gabriella looked at the ground between her feet. She didn't want to meet his eyes until she knew what she could say to him. She certainly didn't want him to see the emotions that were going across her face right now.
"Like I said, the Lord might be all powerful, but the people in the Faith? They screw things up just as much as the rest of us. Only they're in a position to do more damage to the rest of us with those mistakes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It made me the man I am today. Besides, it wasn't you who did it. The Confessor who burned her died in the war."
"Did you… Were you — "
"Involved in that?" he finished for her. "Revenge would have been… interesting. But no, a mercenary company from somewhere in Pontaine managed that one all by themselves. I didn't even get that satisfaction." He looked down for a moment, then visibly forced himself to cheer up. "All right, my little God-girl. What say we pitch a tent and settle in to Freedom?
CHAPTER 18
Crowe stretched and looked up as the last tent peg was finally secured. They had set up their canvas against a rock wall, so there was only one approach to their position. The Glass Mountain loomed above them, proud and impossible to ignore or dismiss as a fevered memory. Absently, Crowe rubbed at the scarring on his face.
"Newcomers!" a woman called. Crowe started and looked round. The woman was wearing casual trews and robes in rich greens and blues.
"Welcome to Freedom."
"I… Thank you."
The woman laughed. "Listen to you! So stiff! I'm sorry, I don't mean to mock. We've all gone through it."
"Through what?"
"The doubting stage. You come here, you think 'hey, I can do what I like, without worrying about the Confessors or anyone.' Then you think 'No, it can't be true,' and you daren't do anything in case a troop of the Swords leap out of hiding and drag you away."
"Yes… Something like that."
"It's natural. It'll pass, believe me.
"So, this is Freedom?"
"Indeed, there's no Empire here, no Kingdom, no Duchies."
"No Faith?" Crowe looked sideways at Gabriella.
The woman shrugged. "Everyone here believes in the same God. We celebrate the Tenthday. But there are no impositions here; no false superiority."
"No Enlightened Ones then," Crowe said cheerfully. "My kind of place. What about Brotherhood priests?"
"One or two, but they know better than to insist that their way is best. There's no place for that in Freedom. Kell has shown us a better life."
"It sounds as nice as we were led to believe. A damn shame, though. That it needs hired mercenaries to guard it."
"Hired? We have hired no mercenaries."
"The soldiers on the gates — "
She laughed and it was quite a musical sound. Crowe wondered what other sounds she might make under interesting circumstances, and decided he would like to find out. "Are volunteers. All have come to Freedom to live out their lives in peace, without interference. Some who had been warriors outside have volunteered to donate their time and experience to protect the city in case of need." The woman looked across at someone who had beckoned to her. "I have to go, but welcome again."
"Thanks." Crowe could feel his smile freeze as she left. He turned to Gabriella after the woman was out of sight. "Let me get this straight; the city's whole force is made up of a few retired ex-mercenaries who couldn't get employed anywhere else, or who've had their arses handed to them on a plate often enough that they've taken the hint and quit?"
"Pretty much. It's madness."
"It's not much bloody use, is it? A class from your seminary could probably take this place without too much trouble. This place is a rat-trap and I can't believe they drove the goblins out."
"Neither can I, to be honest," she admitted.
"What did you expect to find here?"
"For one thing, a lot of whores and whoremongers, gamblers and drunkards."
"We don't seem to be short of those," Crowe said admiringly, watching a man stagger past on a lower terrace with a painted tart on each arm. This sort of thing seemed normal here. The girls wore little, the air smelled of Dreamweed and booze, and there seemed to be very little authority.
"And Goran Kell."
She pointed up to the staircases that were cut into the crystalline face of the peak itself. "If these terraces and tunnels really are Dwarven there may be a wider complex inside the mountain."
"Even if they're not, it's still a reasonable assumption. There wouldn't be openings otherwise." His brows knotted. "But what about the other terraces on the mountains facing this one? Isn't it as likely he'd hole up there?"
"Somehow I doubt it. But tomorrow we'll investigate them all just the same."
"Yeah, let's do that," he urged. "That's a much better idea."
Gabriella could see that something was troubling Crowe; there was a frantic look in his eyes that was unmistakable. It was obviously something to do with what had happened on the Isle of the Star.
"Travis," she said, "I know we're in danger here, not just from the Brotherhood or Kell, but from… from something beyond them, something that you saw at the Isle of the Star. Tell me what you saw there. Please."
"It was two, nearly three years ago," Crowe said at last. "I needed to get out of Freiport, as quickly as possible."
"Trouble?"
He shook his head. "Just sick of the place. I get itchy feet after more than a couple of months in one place.