Free Dark Heart by Russell Kirkpatrick Page B

told her that the hole itself had been caused by a god being cast out. She had seen the Son, and had—oh bliss—actually met the Daughter, so the missing god must therefore be the Father. The removal of the Father had caused the hole, she was certain of that, but what made her uneasy was her encounters with both the other gods when the hole had come near—the evil Son in the Valley of the Damned and the good Daughter in the House of the Gods. Twice Lenares had met the Daughter in the House of the Gods, but the House had been in different places: first, south of the Marasmos River, and second—just minutes ago, it seemed—in the midst of Nomansland. The four survivors of the Emperor’s army of thousands had been herded into the gods’ own house, into the place of the magical bronze map, where the gods had once gathered to see the world, and there they had been taken up into the hole by the Daughter.
    But if the Daughter had rescued them, why had Lenares been so frightened? If the Daughter had always intended to draw them through the hole in Nomansland, why did she create such chaos? Why hadn’t the Daughter said something to reassure her? Was the answer that neither god had enlarged the hole alone, that both the Son and the Daughter used it when they had the opportunity? Perhaps the Daughter had driven the Son away. Would the exile of a second god make the hole bigger? Or create a new hole?
    Was the Daughter really the nice god?
    Lenares loved questions when they led to answers, and hated them when they did not. She loved answers, and most of all she loved answers only she knew. But so deep was her unease at what had just happened, she would have been happy to hear the answers from anyone. Let someone else be special. How could this have happened? To be led into Nomansland, to be herded like goats into a pen, then thrown away?
    Thrown away where? Where were they now? Not the House of the Gods, and not Nomansland. Nowhere in the Elamaq Empire—her nose told her that. She could smell the fresh, sweet scent of water, an abundance of it all around her. She kept her eyes shut, but her nose kept on telling her where they were. She knew where they had to be.
    She opened her eyes.
    ‘Lenares?’
    She looked into the broad, care-lined face of Torve the Omeran. His wide-set eyes gazed at her with concern, then relaxed as he saw hers were open.
    ‘You are alive,’ she said, and smiled.
    ‘So are you.’ His eyes danced with happiness. ‘Do you have any injuries?’
    Lenares shook her head. She so wanted to lean forward and kiss his broad lips, but did not. Not when she did not know where they were.
    He put a hand behind her neck and eased her head up; she braced herself on her elbows. He squatted, bent close and whispered in her ear.
    ‘I’m so happy you are well.’
    ‘Why are you whispering?’
    ‘I don’t want Dryman to hear me.’ His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.
    ‘Is he alive?’ she whispered back.
    ‘He is,’ Torve sighed. ‘As is Captain Duon. A few bumps and bruises, but otherwise hale.’ He pulled his head away. ‘Do you know where we are? Has your counting been interrupted by our travel in the hole?’
    ‘I have no centre now,’ she said, speaking more to herself than to Torve directly. ‘I’ve lost my count, my connection to Talamaq. I need to find another centre so my numbers work properly.’
    ‘Can you centre yourself on a person?’ he asked her, easing himself back to his feet. The warm pink feeling flared in Lenares’ breast at the obvious longing on his face.
    ‘Only if that person stays constant,’ she said shyly.
    ‘Oh,’ Torve said, and drew further away. ‘That I cannot promise, Lenares, for my life is not my own. I must do whatever my master commands: lie, steal, murder and even worse things. Do you understand? I am not human; he makes me not human.’ He bowed his head and walked a few paces away.
    She closed her eyes. Imagined Torve telling her all the truth.