In Her Shadow(41)

Lucius sighed. Weboshi had a way about her, and her words rung true. He had to talk to someone about Britta, how he felt, and all the mixed up emotions boiling inside him. "Fine," he said. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated his words. "When Britta became the Abbess of Night, she saw inside me. She saw that I couldn't let anyone get close, couldn't love again, because it felt like a betrayal of my first wife, Shavana. She told me Shavana would want me to move on."

"First wife?"

"She passed."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

Weboshi pursed her lips. "Was Britta right? Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"But you can't admit it because of your first wife?"

"Yes – No. If I admit Britta was right, that Shavana would want me to move on, it means I've spent a lot of time being miserable for nothing. That, in my attempt to honor Shavana's memory, I dishonored it. That I became a Disciple of the Sun Triumphant for nothing."

"Not 'for nothing.' Tell me, Dux Lucius, before your wife died, how much were you like your father?"

"I'm not sure. I've never thought about it. A lot, I suppose. I was certainly ambitious. I could have become like him quite easily."

"And after she passed away, you became a Disciple of the Sun Triumphant. Those experiences made you the man you are today. They made you a man your first, and future, wife can both be proud of. They made you into a man I'd be proud to call my son if Britta were my own flesh and blood. No, that time wasn't wasted, Dux Lucius. No time spent bettering oneself is."

Lucius swallowed, unsure what to say. How could someone so clear and rational have done the things Weboshi did?

"I might not make it out of this alive," she said, "and maybe I don't deserve to. So before you go – before I go – I want you to know you have my blessing. I don't have the right to say it, I know. I wasn't kidding, Dux Lucius, you're a fine man. You'll make my Britta a fine husband."

Dux Lucius took a deep, audible breath to keep whatever emotion welling up buried inside. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me. Go to her."

***

The city streets were barren in a way he'd never seen before. Even in the empire's safest, backwater cities, there was always something going on. People had business to attend to, and despite the potential danger, some brave souls attended to it. Lucius shuddered – the sort of involuntary emotional response that, like blushing, couldn't be prevented by any amount of meditation. The stillness on the afternoon streets was eerie. For the first time since he'd arrived in the city, he heard the high pitched whistles and honks of the sea birds that circled the city in search of free meals. Doors to stores were shut; no children played in the street. This wasn't like the night of the riot, it lacked the same sense of immanent danger. There was something more foreboding about this. Lucius couldn't put his finger on it.

It reminded him of an incident a few years ago, when he was still a captain. His cohort had been ordered to hold a tower-fort near a fork in the road where bandits frequently struck travelers. It should have been an easy fight, except these weren't the everyday peasant bandits young Captain Lucius had expected. They were deserters from the military, mutineers. And they were pissed that Lucius had occupied their fort. So the bandits laid siege. It took about a month before someone in the chain of commanded noticed Lucius's cohort missing from its rolls and sent help, but Lucius and his men hadn't prepared. They occupied the fort with only a few days of food and water. Food they could live without for a little while, but not water. They recycled urine, caught dew and rain, rationed what they had. By the time relief arrived, Lucius and his men were nearly dead – so dehydrated a pinch and pull of arm skin stayed pinched and pulled. They were listless, still, unable to speak. He felt the same sense of foreboding during that small siege that he felt now.

When he arrived at the abbey, Lucius found a large piece of fine parchment nailed to the door.

"We cannot fight the Regnals," it read. "We have no army, no navy. If we stand against them in open revolt, they will crush us beneath their heels as they did before, over and over until we are pebbles between the flagstones of their empire's famed roads. Even should we resort to the tactics of old, of back-alley knifings and poisoned stews, they will come down on us. Even should we not fight, citizens of Ankshara, they will crush us despite.

"We are doomed. Let us err on the side of righteousness.

"There is no reason for us to take part in our own destruction.

"Hear the Decree of the Full Moon, Abbess of Night: I hereby declare Ankshara under interdict. Neither the abbey nor its sisters shall administer the sacraments. Nor shall we regulate or restrain the criminal underbelly of this city. If the Regnals want to enforce their laws against us, then let them. See how they can handle the Wicked City without our guidance.

"I decree a general strike. All loyal guilds shall refuse to work. No business shall be done in Ankshara. Let the longshoreman leave fish to rot in their boats, and let the merchants leave their fruit to rot in the market stalls. . ."

Lucius scanned the rest. It went on like that, giving specifics of everything the Anksharans were not to do without a mention of what they were supposed to do. That was obvious, of course: nothing. The Anksharans were supposed to do nothing. Would they listen to their Abbess? The silent streets answered that question for him. It wasn't a disaster yet, but it would be. He had troops enough to fight crime, or haul food off ships; not both. More, without the normal trade going on in the city, he or the Governor would have to pay for the food themselves. It was impossible. Lucius reeled. She'd found a way to strike back at him, the Governor, and all the Regnals occupying the city. She'd found a way to start a siege of her own.