Islana's Story
"...And this part, you already know," Cleran concluded.
Jereh nodded, about to tell him to move on, but Islana cut her off. "Why did Erra want to see him?" she demanded.
Cleran shot a look at Jereh, but didn't speak. He assumed that either Jereh had told her, or was going to; if she wasn't going to, he didn't want to do it. "If it was any of your business, Erra would have asked you," Jereh snapped.
"No, he wouldn't have. Erra hates me. He had just been speaking with me. If he wanted to talk to me, he'd have done it then."
"If he didn't want to tell you then, why should I tell you now?"
"You wanted the whole story. For all I know, this has something to do with it!" Islana snarled.
"It doesn't."
"Dammit, Jereh—"
"It's all right," Cleran said softly. "It doesn't matter, Islana. It had nothing to do with... Everything."
Islana frowned. "Cleran, how did you get out of my room?" she asked suddenly, putting something together in her mind. Cleran looked helplessly at Jereh, and Islana continued, "Who untied you?"
"I told you, it was just that—that you hadn't retied me correctly one handed, that I had been able to—"
"He was trying to convince you to escape!" Islana realized. She wasn't quite right, but she was close enough that Cleran looked away with guilt. "He wanted to humiliate me—and you helped him!" she yelled at Jereh, realizing the older Knight's part in it. "You were so eager to make me look stupid that you... You not only sided with Erra but you helped him try to escape!" She pointed a finger violently at Cleran.
"It had nothing to do with how I felt about you," Jereh said coolly.
"Than this—everything that's happened since—is your own fault!"
"My fault?" Jereh snarled. "How dare you accuse me, when—"
"Jereh," Cleran said, quietly but firmly. Far more calm than he'd sounded before. "It wasn't her fault, Islana, it was my own. It was... Hell, all right, I'll explain what happened."
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 9: Conflicting Orders
Cleran stood nervously in front of Erra, Jereh standing beside him. Erra was sitting behind his desk, watching silently. He eventually said, "How do you feel about Islana?"
"Wh-what?" Cleran asked.
"Islana. I know you know who she is—it's because of her that you're here now."
"I... I don't like her very much," Cleran said. He hadn't known what to expect, but certainly didn't think it would be this.
"Nor do I," Erra agreed. "And neither—unless I'm gravely mistaken—does Jereh."
Jereh shook her head in silent agreement.
"That gives us something in common. Something very important. Islana... Needs to be shown that she's not quite as amazing as she seems to believe she is." He waited to see if he was getting a reaction from Cleran, and noted that aside from a vague look of interest, Cleran wasn't responding. "Islana has something of mine; I want it back. I want you to get it for me."
"Why should I do that?" Cleran asked.
"For one, I can't think of a better way for any of us to remind Islana that she's mortal, since we all agree that we dislike her. Second, because I promise it will result in better treatment for you."
Cleran glanced over at Jereh, who nodded. "I'd rather that better treatment was given to my brother," he said.
"I promise you that your brother is being treated well," Jereh said. "Pending your cooperation with us, he will stay that way."
Cleran remembered the Knight named Jall telling him that if he did as he was told, Dysis would remain safe. He wondered why they were asking him now, but he certainly wasn't going to jeopardize his brother. "All right," he said.
"Islana has taken to wearing a necklace, similar to this one," Erra said, straightening the chain he was wearing, pulling the necklace forward so Cleran could get a good look at it. "It was my son's."
"I know."
"Oh?"
"I knew she was wearing one of them.... Just not which one." Not quite true, but he and Dysis hadn't mentioned Ilyan to anyone, and now didn't seem like a good time. And Cleran was certain Islana didn't know about him, either; Ilyan had told him she wasn't supposed to find out.
"Ah. Well, it was my son's, and I want it back. It's important. And I want you to get it for me."
"How?"
Jereh smiled. "Everyone's expecting you to try to escape, Cleran," she said.
"I'm not—I wouldn't, not unless Dysis—"
"Oh, I know that," she interrupted. "But Islana wouldn't be surprised if you did; and since I'll know about it ahead of time, nothing will happen to Dysis. Or you."
"What?"
"We're going to set it up for you to attempt to escape—or rather, pretend to. You'll take the opportunity to relieve Islana of the necklace, and I'll intercept you before you manage to leave the building. If you do what you're told, without any... Variations.... You'll be treated quite well, as will your brother; Erra will have his son's necklace, and Islana..."
"Will try and kill me."
"We won't give her access to you."
Cleran still didn't feel right. "What if something goes wrong? I mean... Islana may be one handed, but she's not helpless, what if she manages to keep me from 'escaping,' or getting the necklace—or what if I hurt her?"
"If Islana stops your escape attempt, I'll get you away from her as soon as I can, of course. And if she gets hurt..."
"Don't hurt her," Erra said. "No more than necessary."
"But what if—"
"Do what you must, but if she dies... We won't help you," Erra said. "We won't be able to. She is the Voice's favorite."
"Goddess only knows why," Jereh put in bitterly.
Cleran swallowed. "But what—"
"And I'm sure it barely needs to be said, but don't you dare try to actually escape."
Cleran nodded. "All right. So... How are we going to set it up?"
The first part of their plan wasn't very difficult. Islana was being assigned to guard Cleran; Jereh made it clear that it was as a punishment for Erra not giving her use of a dungeon. Rather than having her stand outside the room where he was tied, he'd been moved to her room, tied to a chair as he had been before. And Islana was required to stay there, aside from meals and such—she was supposed to be resting and recovering, after all.
Islana was quite unhappy about this. She'd accused Jereh of being vindictive and petty, but ultimately, hadn't had a choice. She was making sure Cleran didn't enjoy it either, though.
"Sundancer, I'm bored!" Cleran muttered after several hours.
Islana looked up from the book she'd been reading, glared at him, and then went back to reading.
"I mean, it's not like I expected you to go out of your way to keep me happy, but couldn't you at least talk to me?"
"Shut up."
"That isn't quite what I had in mind. I mean—last week, I was willing to talk to you. To have a conversation."
"Go to hell."
"Can you imagine how much more miserable you'd have been if all I'd have said was things like, 'go to hell,' and 'shut up'?"
"Do you really think anything you could have done would have made me more miserable?" she answered. "And for that matter, are you sure you want me to be thinking about last week?"
"Well, no, that's true. But I mean... Come on, you can't be having fun just sitting there ignoring me!"
"And yet, I never felt an urge to talk to you."
He sighed, then, "Islana... You probably don't want to hear about it, but last week—" "You're right, I don't want to hear about it."
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, genuinely sorry, about how you were treated." She said nothing, so he continued. "I know you won't believe me—I wouldn't, if I was you—but you... I really do feel badly about everything that happened to you. You didn't deserve it."
"I killed a lot of Warriors," she stately flatly. It wasn't that she was defending her former captors, it was that she was trying to point out that there was a flaw in Cleran's reasoning, as she was certain he was lying.
"And I've killed Knights." That wasn't true either. He'd tried, but couldn't quite force himself to kill, not even on the battlefield. That was how he'd nearly died himself. "But the worst thing that's happened to me was that forced march—which couldn't really be avoided. And since then, I've been treated... Really well, considering. It just makes everything that happened to you seem completely unnecessary. And so I'm sorry."
Islana didn't say anything for a long time. "What do you think is going to happen to you?" she finally asked.
"I figure they'll execute me eventually."
"And Dysis?"
"I'd rather not think about it."
"So you see that apologizing to me won't do you any good?"
"That's not why I was apologizing."
She gave him a dark look and returned to her reading. He sighed and tried to get comfortable in his chair. He and Jereh wouldn't be launching their plan for several days yet, they didn't want it to seem too soon or at all suspicious. He doubted it was going to be a pleasant few days.
He found out a few interesting things about Islana, though. For one, she was incredibly stubborn—he had already assumed this, but it was confirmed. There were about a half dozen times a day he had to be untied, for meals and to relieve himself, and she refused to ask for help retying him.
The one handed knots were quite loose. Not enough so that he could have gotten out of the ropes, but enough that he could sit in relative comfort. He decided not to mention it, in case she would change her mind and get someone's help. And, he reasoned, it provided with a decent excuse for why he would eventually turn up loose, sword in hand.
He might have been sincere when he apologized to Islana, but he still was looking forward to that confrontation. Keeping it in mind kept him from going crazy during the long, hostile silences.
The second thing he noted about his captor was that she cried. Not frequently, never when she thought he was awake, but she cried at night. He probably wouldn't have noticed, as it was usually subtle and barely more than weeping, but the second night she was suddenly wracked with sobs. She did her best to quiet herself, not wanting to wake him—lnot out of a sense of kindness to him, he knew, but because she didn't want him to see her sobbing. She had no way to know he was awake anyway.
He wondered why she would cry. She seemed to be rather well off—he was somewhat certain that she was Healing well; Jereh's visits several times a day seemed to confirm that. It wasn't crying for her future, then, which meant it was probably her past. The question was, was it the recent past—the time she'd spent on Arpiar as a prisoner—or something else?
He didn't want to come out and ask, though he was somewhat worried. He couldn't figure out why he was worried, except that he found himself feeling guilty about everything Islana had been through.
I was only following orders, he reminded himself firmly, but it didn't do much good. For one, if he was following orders, that placed the blame squarely on Dysis' shoulders, which he also refused to comprehend. But if not Dysis, who had given the orders, or himself for having carried them out, who did hold the blame?
"You want something," Dysis said finally. "Just tell me what you want and we can talk about it."
Jall shook his head. "We'll get to that eventually," he promised. "But for now, I just want to talk."
"Why?" Dysis demanded. "You know everything you need to."
"Not really, no," Jall replied. "I know who you are, Dysis Serathi. But before I start demanding things from you, I want to know what sort of man you are. Why you do what you do."
Dysis rolled his eyes. "Why?" he asked again.
"Because I want to deal with you—and I don't want it to be a deal that will fall through within a few weeks. That means I can't simply threaten you. You already know I won't do that. So I want to find out why it's worth my time to deal with you."
"How do you know it is worth your time?"
"I know because a man doesn't get to be a High Priest without being worth something. Your mentor Rallan—he got his job by being brutal." Jall bit back a smile. He was baiting Dysis now; he wanted to see how the younger man would react to someone maligning his mentor.
"He did not," Dysis answered quickly, clearly upset by Jall's claim. Jall just raised an eyebrow, a look that was more challenging than anything he could have said would be. Dysis continued hastily, "He was a good man. A devoted Priest, and an excellent leader. That was why he became High Priest."
"He became High Priest because he was willing to order the complete destruction of two cities. Not even for raids—that would be comprehendible. He ordered the destruction of Kal'Hara and Kal'Harath for the sake of killing people, destroying the lives of those he couldn't kill, and scaring everyone else in to submission. He had his enemies assassinated. He has his prisoners tortured to death."
Dysis glared at him. "You were at war with him. He did what he had to!"
"And so did you, when you ordered that Warrior to torture Islana. When you decided to assassinate Erra Kelanister."
"Islana had destroyed an entire fleet and killed scores of men—Rallan included—when she did it. You'd never call her brutal. You'd call her a hero."
"Oh? Islana is brutal. She can be as cold and heartless as she needs to, to fight for her cause. And Dysis—she was exactly as heartless as I asked her to be."
"You?"
"I told you that I serve as the Goddess' Blade. Knights don't go to your Island without my permission."
"You ordered that... That massacre?"
Jall nodded. It had been Islana's idea originally, but he was the one who allowed her to carry it out. And this would not only provoke more of a reaction, but it meant that if something should happen, if Dysis was released and negotiations fell through, there would be less of a rush to try and hunt down Islana again. He didn't mind setting himself up for a bad situation, especially not after seeing Islana after she had appeared from the tunnel.
"You son of a bitch!" Dysis screamed. "You called him brutal, you said that he—that—how dare you?"
"You haven't even heard the end of it yet," Jall said coldly. "Islana had no idea until after that she'd brought down a High Priest. But I did. I knew exactly where he'd be, and that he'd be killed."
"How could you?" Dysis asked. He had idolized Rallan for most of his life. He couldn't comprehend the side of him Jall had described, let alone someone going out of his way to murder the m an in cold blood. "How... How could you? He—he was a good man, he.... Why him?"
"Because it put you in power, and you're a far weaker man than he was. Rallan would never sit here and listen to me. He'd have never let himself be taken prisoner by Islana, and if he had, he certainly wouldn't sit back and talk civilly with me."
"Really."
"But then, he didn't have a bastard brother for us to take hostage, did he?"
"Are you threatening Cleran?"
"Just reminding you of your situation."
Dysis took a deep breath. He was seeing Jall in a whole new light now, too. He'd been picturing him as a somewhat sympathetic character, after hearing about his family, but now was trying to combine that with the heartless cold that would let him order so many deaths. "You expect me to be willing to bargain with you after having heard that?"
"Of course. That's another difference between you and Rallan. He was unwilling to even try and understand. You are too intelligent to simply refuse."
Dysis stared for a long moment. "You really think that I'll... I'll just go back to dealing with you the same way I had been?"
"Tell me something, Dysis. Would you rather not have know that those deaths were my fault?"
Dysis paused. "No," he said finally. "If I have to deal with you—and I'm assuming I do—I'd rather we were both honest."
Jall nodded. There was definitely hope for the young man before him.
[EYECATCH]
"Hi."
Islana had stepped out for a minute, which didn't really surprise Cleran. He'd been humming, wondering how long it would take for her to get fed up. Not long, it turned out. He just wanted a few minutes to catch his breath and be away from her scrutiny. He hadn't expected a visitor, let alone a glowing one.
"Hey," he greeted the angel.
"You look comfortable."
"I'm not."
Ilyan grinned. "Could be worse," he pointed out.
"I'm aware."
"I know you are. I can read your mind. So what's all this about you and Jereh and my father conspiring against Islana?"
"If you can read my mind, then—"
"Just answer me."
"Your necklace. The one Islana is wearing. King Erra wants it back, and Islana refuses to give it to him. So if I get it..."
"They're nice to Dysis. I see." The angel rolled his eyes. "You believe them?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because Dysis is being treated a hell of a lot better than you are at the moment."
"So?"
"So... So I don't think it's a good idea for my father to get that necklace back just yet, and I'm afraid you're going to have to let go of your end of the bargain."
"I can't," Cleran said. "Dysis—"
"Will be fine. I promise."
"But they said—"
"Yeah, but they can't see the future, can they?"
"You can?"
"I have a general idea of what's going to happen, yes. And I'm stepping in because, well, as Islana's guardian angel, I really think that she should keep that necklace."
Cleran paused. "Why... Why does she cry?" he asked.
A look of anger flashed across Ilyan's face. "Because she's alone," he said finally. His voice sounded different suddenly. Not a lot, it was hard to catch the emotion in it, but the thought of Islana being alone upset him.
"What do you mean?"
Ilyan gave Cleran a look he couldn't quite interpret. He had the feeling he was being judged again, like when he'd first met Ilyan in the tunnel. Finally, Ilyan said, "She hasn't been close to anyone in a long time."
"Really? With her sparkling personality, I'd assumed—"
"Cleran." Ilyan cut him off, his voice dark. Cleran made a mental note not to mock Islana while her guardian angel was present.
"So if I don't get this necklace for your father... What am I supposed to do? How do I explain it to Jereh? If I don't take it, what do I do when it comes time to escape?"
"I imagine you'll think of something. And as for Jereh... Don't worry too much about that. The situation is going to change."
"Really." Cleran didn't sound convinced.
"Trust me," Ilyan grinned. "Jereh will come untie you; you'll corner Islana, and everything will fall in to place."
"For her guardian angel, you sound awfully unconcerned. What if I hurt her?"
"I'm not worried," he said. "You won't. You can't—but besides, if you do, I'll put you through more pain than you can possibly imagine." And with that cheerful thought, Ilyan disappeared again.
"I could be imagining it, but you sound awfully frustrated," Jall commented.
"It's been three days and you haven't asked for anything!" Dysis snapped. "The first day—learning what sort of man I was—fine. But how long are you going to take?"
Jall shrugged. "You're a complicated person."
"I'm really not."
"I tell you what, Dysis. You're so desperate to start negotiating, so why don't you make me an offer?"
"What?"
"Make an offer."
"How should I know what you want?" Dysis demanded. "I mean... What you want that I'm willing to give."
Jall smiled. "You'll just have to guess and hope, won't you?"
Dysis nodded. He certainly didn't want to give away anything he didn't have to, but he also didn't want to offer too little, for fear Jall would decide it wasn't going to be worth negotiating after all.
"Can I have some time to—" he stopped. "So that's why you weren't asking. You haven't decided."
"I wondered if you were going to call my bluff."
"So... Everything about learning what sort of a man I was..."
"Oh, that was real enough. If I had decided what I wanted from you, I would have done it while negotiating. But since I haven't decided..."
Dysis nodded, then, "There's no one you need to ask? I mean... I realize that the Knights don't get along with King Erra, but you don't need to speak with him? Or... Your High Priest?"
Jall looked ever so slightly smug. "I have the High Priest's permission to do whatever I choose."
"And King Erra?"
"Will live with whatever bargain I strike."
"Really..." Dysis paused, an idea forming. There was something he would be willing to give away after all. "So there is bad blood between Erra Kelanister and... your organization."
"By organization, you're referring to Kaleal's clergy, I take it." A nod. "Well... yes."
"All right. Then here's my offer: you give Cleran and myself freedom, and a three month break from being attacked. In return, we stop our slave raids. Permanently."
"Oh?"
Dysis shrugged. "If I remember what Islana told me correctly, Erra's support largely comes from the act that he's been able to defend against the slavers to a far greater extent than the Knights had been able to. So if the raids go away, forever, and you get the credit, it sort of pulls the rug out from under him, doesn't it?"
"And you're under the impression I want to do that?"
"You said yourself that the Knights and Erra... don't see eye to eye."
"So?"
"So.... Given everything I had learned from Islana, I had expected you to jump at a chance to undermine Erra's power."
Erra nodded. "I can see why. Except that Erra and Islana hold more animosity than he and I do. And Erra Kelanister is the one case where I allow my sentimental side to rule me."
"Sentimental? I was under the impression that all Knights hated him."
"Listen to me carefully, Dysis, because I don't like saying this. People are suspicious enough about it as it is, but I'll tell you—for the sake of honesty. Erra Kelanister is a great man. He's self-centered, and can be quite petty, but then, so is every Kelanister I ever met, four generations of them, and Erra is not the tyrant the Knights take him for.
"He and I fought back to back in more battles than I care to count, back when he was a Knight. He saved my life more than once. He's the best friend I've ever known. More than a friend—Erra and I were brothers. We both lost our families in the destruction of Kal'Hara—the reason the Kelanister clan was even in the city was for the sake of visiting my own son." Jall sighed. "And if it wasn't for Erra, I'd never have become a Knight. All those years ago, when I was desperately running from the murder I'd committed, it was Erra who found me, who brought me here. I owe him everything. I will not see him humiliated."
"Oh." Dysis wasn't quite sure what to say. "I... had no idea."
"You weren't supposed to. Only a few people know. It's—"
They were interrupted by a frantic pounding on the chamber's door, and then a Knight broke in before Jall had a chance to tell him to enter. He was still wearing a heavy coat, laden with snow, and his cheeks were flushed from running through the cold. "Sir...." he panted. "Jall. Raiders. Battle."
"Where?" Jall demanded.
"Sillara. We think—we think Warriors with the raiders—not an ordinary raid."
"Oh bloody hell." He turned to Dysis. "If you'll excuse me, something more important than our bickering has come up." Dysis hadn't understood a word of what the man had told Jall, but could see it was serious. He nodded. Jall looked back at the Knight. "If you could please escort my guest to the northeast tower, I'll be meeting with as many people as I can round up to see if we can salvage anything."
The Knight shook his head. "I think you misunderstood, Sir," he said, his breath returning. "The fight—a slaughter. Finished by the time help arrived, from us or from Erra. The city is gone, burnt to the ground. Nearly no survivors."
"Oh bloody fucking hell."
"There were... A handful of us, and a handful of Erra's in the city to begin with. They... They died."
Jall clenched a fist. Dysis still didn't know what was going on, but he could see the raw anger in Jall's face, and fervently hoped that this had nothing to do with him. Jall turned back to him and snarled, "More of my friends are dead, Priest. Men I assigned to their post were killed. A whole city—" he turned to the Knight. "Get him out of my sight."
"Yes, Sir," the Knight agreed.
Jall watched them leave, his eyes narrowed after Dysis. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. He knew Dysis couldn't have been responsible for it, but that didn't keep the anger from flaring. The thought of the Knights deaths—Knights he was responsible for—he banged his hand against the table, then buried his face in his hand and just sat, shaking with anger.
Islana had left the room for a meal, and Jereh slipped in in her place. "Be careful," she said plainly. Cleran nodded, as she untied him. "You have twenty minutes or so before she'll be back. I'd suggest waiting for her to be alone—you don't want to tangle with a Knight who's actually up to strength."
And with that, Jereh was gone.
Cleran sighed, stood, and stretched. So how do I do this and convince Jereh I really tried to get her necklace, convince Islana I'm really trying to escape—without hurting her—and keep that angel from hunting me down? He said answers would present themselves... But...
He walked to the bed. Islana had left her sword on it; there seemed to be no point in wearing it when she couldn't use it, and would have no cause to. He tested it's weight in his hand. It was heavier than he was used to, but not too bad, he'd be able to use it without a problem.
Cleran made his way to the door, and stood with his ear to the wall, listening. It seemed like an eternity before he could hear footsteps echoing through the hall, and the sound of a crutch with them. That was Islana, without a doubt. He took a deep breath, thought a brief prayer that something would come to mind, and made his way out of room.
Islana looked up to see her door open, and Cleran step out. She stared in shock, bad hand going to a sword that wasn't there, and froze. That was what her instincts wanted from her, and she was suddenly unsure what to do. It hadn't even occurred to her to scream until Cleran was too close for it to make a difference.
He grabbed her bad hand with his free one and twisted, she gasped with pain and began to struggle. He put his weight behind his shoulder and slammed her in to the wall, silently hoping that Ilyan wouldn't make him regret it later.
Before she had a chance to recover, he had her bad arm pinned at her side, her good hand twisted behind her back, and her body pinned to the wall with his own, sideways with his shoulder into her chest. What the Hell do I do now? He thought desperately.
She narrowed her eyes. "What do you know? The bastard has a spine after all."
"Yeah, I do," he snarled, twisting so that he could bring his sword arm up and rest the blade against her throat, without letting her up. She refused to wince away from the steel, but desperately wanted to. He smiled, a half-formed idea coming to him. "Call this revenge, bitch," he said, then closed the gap between their bodies and kissed her.
[CLOSING CREDITS]