Page 251 of Of Empires and Dust

Garramon released the High Ardent, who fell to the ground, choking. Tuk lifted himself to his feet, eyes filled with rage.

“That’s it, Brother Tuk, feel the anger. Breathe it in.”

Tuk clenched his jaw, teeth grinding, hands twisted into fists, white robes stained from the spilt wine. “You arrogant piece of shit. I will report this to the Grand Ardent, and he to the emperor.”

“Let it out.”

“You always thought you were better than me, always thought my affinity worth nothing but the dirt beneath your feet. Were it not for your tongue being so far up Fane’s arse, you would be nothing.”

“Is that right?”

Tuk’s lip curled in a grin, red-marked teeth flashing. “Who won in the end, Garramon?”

“I’m sorry, Brother Tuk, but I don’t understand. What did you win?”

The High Ardent’s eyes widened when he realised he had said too much, the wine making him too bold.

“Don’t worry. I already knew.” Garramon took another step closer. “I just needed to be sure… to be completely sure.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come now, Brother. You insult yourself. You know exactly what I mean. It was you who whispered in my son’s ear,you who gave him the letter to pass to rebels, and you who told of his betrayal.”

“I did no such thing.” Tuk’s voice was strong and steady, but his body gave him away. He swallowed. Took a step back, hands shaking, gaze darting for an escape. “Your son did what he did, Garramon. Accept it.”

“Yes, you did, Tuk.”

“You have no proof.” His tone grew sharper, his face red.

“I don’t need proof,” Garramon said with a shrug. “Back then I did. You held too high of a position for me to simply slit your throat. I needed evidence to bring to Fane. But I’ll give you one thing, Tuk, you’re a smart man. You covered your tracks well. The young man you hired to turn Malyn over betrayed you but didn’t live long enough for his words to reach any ears but my own.” He tapped a finger on the long desk, still moving forwards. “I thought I had you. But then I began to question myself. Was I obsessing? Was I wrong? Did the man just give me the first name that came to his head to save his own hide? Everything in my bones told me it was you, but every time I thought I found something to prove that theory right, it vanished into thin air. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d killed an innocent man. So all these years I’ve wondered but stayed my hand… until tonight. You slipped, Brother Tuk. It’s not your fault. It’s time’s fault. Time makes us grow complacent, makes us feel safe.”

“You found no proof because it’s not true, Garramon.” Tuk moved tentatively back towards the table, rubbing at his throat. “I would never.”

Garramon gave him a smile, then looked down at the burning sage in the bowl. “You know, I remember, back before the liberation, when we had an argument. Do you remember?”

“We’ve had a lot of arguments. But that’s always been the way. Battlemages and Healers, two sides of a coin.”

Garramon wagged his finger, stepping ever closer. “No, no, this one was different. We were drunk, you more than I, much like you are now. You wanted the prisoners from the Lyonin campaign turned over to the Healers. Do you remember now?”

“I don’t think… No, it doesn’t ring any bells.”

“You came before the council arguing that if the prisoners could be used as specimens for study, then the Healers’ understanding of the living body could rise to new heights.” Garramon ran his finger across the edge of the table, rubbing away ash from the burning sage. “I was in the chamber myself at the time, providing reports on the rising Urak threat near Caelduin. Alvira called you a monster and – if I remember correctly – told you to rot in the void. And when Folan asked for further opinions, I gave mine. You didn’t much like it. You confronted me in the Grand Hall during the feast that night. Threw a cup of wine over me. And then you told me that I would regret what I said, that I would ‘rue the day’. Rather dramatic. You had this look in your eyes, this…” Garramon rolled his hand in the air as though trying to find the thought. “This arrogance mixed with superiority. The same look you had today when you spoke to Rist. And then when I walked into this tent and spoke of my son, I saw that same look.”

Garramon moved so he was within arm’s reach of Brother Tuk. To the man’s credit, he held his ground, though judging by the way his hand tapped against his hip, it was taking all of Tuk’s resolve to do so.

Again the man swallowed hard.

“I know it was you. After all these years, I know. And I will not let you do the same thing to Rist that you did to Malyn. I will not let you get inside his head. Twist him, and break him, and make him think that he is less, that he needs your approval. You are a self-important worm who clings to any side he thinks willwin. You sit and you judge others, but Alvira was right – it is you who is the monster.”

Garramon held Tuk’s gaze, waiting, watching. A trapped animal always snapped, and Garramon needed to be sure. He would not kill an innocent man.

“Garramon. Come to your senses. None of this is—” Tuk broke off and reached for the Spark, slamming threads of Air into Garramon’s chest, then tried to break into a run.

The threads knocked Garramon back a step but did little else. He rammed his fist into Brother Tuk’s gut.

The man doubled over, coughing and grabbing his stomach. Garramon took him by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the ground.

“Where did you think you were running to? There’s nowhere you could hide from me. I am the Arbiter after all. Get up.”

---