Spinner of Lies

High Imaskar. Riltana broke the seal and visually devoured the contents in moments. Then she hugged the queen.

Riltana later joked that the peacemaker bodyguards had nearly shat themselves upon witnessing such physical familiarity with Her Royal Highness by someone they’d been told was a “messenger.”

Of course the Stewards had not launched a preemptive attack on Tymanther. The queen returned from the Demonweb in time to quiet the drumbeat to war with evidence of Akanul’s true enemy in hand.

The next day, Chant had engaged his network of secret gatherers to locate the Copperhead. Airspur was a large city. If you didn’t already know an establishment, a name by itself was just the first clue to tracking it down.

And just what was the situation? Madri had seemed intent on making him pay for what he’d done to her. But when she had the chance to let this incarnation die in the mine collapse, she’d saved him. He needed to find out why. He also needed to uncover her connection to Kalkan, how she’d come back from death, and what she intended to do with the Whispering Child called the Necromancer.

“I see you’ve managed to scare the waitstaff witless.”

Demascus jumped. “Madri!”

“Last time I checked.” She sat down across from him. She hadn’t been in the room a moment earlier, but she didn’t look the least bit like a ghost.

“I got your message,” he finally managed.

She nodded. “Remember the last time we were in a water pipe lounge, Demascus?”

“Um, not really.”

She frowned.

“But seeing you here, Madri, and smelling the tabac-it’s like a word on the tip of my tongue that I can’t quite place.”

“You might be telling the truth. You might be lying. I expect it’s the latter, based on how things ended for me back in Halruaa.”

Demascus cast his gaze down at the table. They’d been through all this under the rock fall. Madri wasn’t inclined to believe he was different. Still …

“Then why’d you save me?” he asked. “You could’ve had your revenge. A life for a life.”

Madri smiled for the first time. His breath caught. He remembered this woman, if only in flashes and moments. And he had loved her.

“It wouldn’t have been my revenge, would it? I wasn’t the one who tried to crush you under an island.”

“So you saved me, just so you could personally kill me?”

She smirked, then shook her head. “No, I’m joking. The old you would have gotten it. Maybe you are telling the truth, Demascus.”

“I swear by all the gods of light and shadow, I’m not the same person who murdered you. I could never do that.”

Madri stared at him. Demascus measured the time in uneasy heartbeats. What was she thinking? Probably that he was a no-good lying sack of rat feces. Or that-

“All right, Demascus.”

“All right? Does that mean you believe me?”

“Let’s just say … I’m willing to peel back my hate enough to try and believe you. Though your words are not the reason why I’m willing to give you even this much of a chance. Come with me?” She stood up. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Madri made for the exit. Demascus clambered to his feet.

“Something to show me?” he repeated stupidly.

“It’s back at my place. I think you’ll find it … illuminating. I did.” Madri walked out. The large oaken door slammed in his face.

He pushed it open and rushed out into the light. He was relieved to see she was waiting for him on the street. Demascus cleared his throat. “This has all the hallmarks of a trap.”

She shrugged. “You’ll never know unless you come see. Besides, give me some credit. I think I could whip up something a little less obvious, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” he allowed. Except that if she was planning on leading him to his demise, subtlety clearly wasn’t necessary.

They walked side by side through the city. Madri seemed utterly real, as solid as the cobbles below and the towers on either side. But people failed to see her, or if they did notice, their gazes slid from her like water off a greased skillet. Demascus thought about taking her hand, just to see if she was as solid to the touch as she looked. But her rigid posture and frowning demeanor made him think better of it. Either his hand would sink through her because she was a ghost or she would slap him. So he settled on worrying about what she had planned for him.

They didn’t make good time. Madri hesitated at street corners, and looked around a lot as if she was constantly losing her bearings.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Normally I just appear where I want to go. I was terrified when it first happened. But it’s turned out to be pretty handy.”

“I bet.”

“So this is the first time I’ve had to walk anywhere in this crazy place. What brought you to Airspur anyway, Demascus?”

“The choice wasn’t entirely in my hands.”

He related how he’d found himself in the country of Akanul, sans any real memory of his past, as they wound their way through the cliff-face metropolis. He explained how his enemies had been very much aware of him, and how close he’d come to becoming just one more incarnation in a long line that’d been killed by someone called Kalkan Swordbreaker.

“Kalkan,” said Madri, nodding. She stopped at the front gate of a manor house walled in white stone. The mansion was ostentatious enough to be a noble’s residence. Indeed, it looked exactly like …

“This is a trap!” he yelled, jumping away from the wall. The manor house was where they’d run Kalkan to ground last time. He drew Exorcessum in its lone-blade configuration and put some distance between himself and Madri. A carriage driver who’d been making his way down the street at a leisurely pace saw the deva with the naked glowing rune blade. The driver pulled sharply on the reins and turned his conveyance around.

Demascus shifted his gaze from the wall-top to the retreating carriage, and then to the opposite side of the street. If Kalkan was waiting in hiding, the ambush was blown. He was ready.

“No, Demascus, I told you. It’s not a trap.”

“You’re in league with Kalkan,” he accused. “This used to be his home. He hunted Airspur citizens for food from here. And hunted incarnations of me from here, too.”

“Well, all right. Yes, I began as an unwitting ally of Kalkan. True. But I didn’t think I had a choice. When I realized differently, I quit. I saved you, didn’t I? And I’m done following Kalkan’s script. From here on out, I make up my own future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her voice had started low; now she was nearly screaming. “It means that I don’t like being manipulated. I did something about the one who tried to chain me with lies. But you, you’re such a trusting fool, you’ll accept whatever a random divine avatar tells you, without wondering whether you’re doing good or ill. No, the Sword of the Gods operates above such ordinary constraints, right? It’s what you must tell yourself so you can sleep at night!”

Demascus frowned. Madri was right. That was exactly how the Sword operated. His fragmented memories told a tale of privilege and power, one that didn’t involve too much reflection. As if his station automatically lent his decisions legitimacy. He’d been caught up in his glory, his own importance. Lying to someone like that would probably be easy …