Chapter 88 Truth

Chapter 88 Truth
By the time night fell, the battlefield was full of the fires of funerary pyres. Zorrik had lost a quarter of his Assassins, and Gall and Sa'Mood just as many. They created pyres for their fallen enemies as well. Though they were no longer on the same side, they were all Assassins, and they were all shown the respect they were afforded. After two days, the air around the town was so thick with smoke that the townspeople had to wear scarves over their faces to breathe.

At first, Zorrik had overseen the rituals, but Jefor's funeral had proven too much for him, so he left Eloria in charge of the rest. He'd found Jefor's spear on the battlefield and then retreated to his and Ra'Jeem's quarters, taking the spear with him. He hadn't come out since, not even to eat.

At the end of the second day of funerals, Ra'Jeem went home, but he wasn't alone. Perrin had asked to come with him, and the Disciple Assassin was more than happy to bring the young man along. Ra'Jeem lightly knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so he gently opened it. Zorrik was sitting on the bed, staring at the spear he'd leaned against the wall.

"Zorrik," Ra'Jeem said, and his Master looked up at him. "Well, that's a good sign, at least," he added with a smile. Then he and Perrin stepped into the small quarters.

"It's been two days," Zorrik said, his voice dry and raspy. "I still can't believe he's gone. I think there was a part of me that thought he was immortal."

Ra'Jeem chuckled and sat down next to his Mate. "He was larger than life." Zorrik smiled, and he put his arm around him.

"We brought you something to eat," Perrin said, and presented the plate, but the Master Assassin shook his head.

"You haven't eaten in two days," Ra'Jeem gently scolded. He took the plate from Perrin and held it in front of his Mate until the man reluctantly took it.

Zorrik half-heartedly picked at the meal, still staring at the spear.

"You're having regrets," Perrin commented, and Ra'Jeem flashed him a warning look. He ignored it, though, and crouched in front of the Master Assassin, careful not to block his view of the spear.

"You have no idea how much your help meant to us," Perrin went on. "How much we needed it. Many of us were on the verge of giving up after what happened in the Imperial City. We knew we would never be a match for the Royal Palace's Assassins."

Zorrik nodded but didn't look at the young man and didn't answer.

Perrin was quiet for a moment, looking the Master Assassin over. Not for the first time, his eyes settled on the man's pendant. Then he looked away and gathered his thoughts.

"You were raised in the Royal Palace, right?" he finally asked.

For the first time, Zorrik looked over at him. He nodded and said, "From the time I was nine."

Perrin gestured toward the pendant. "Zytherian, right?"

Zorrik's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at Ra'Jeem, who looked just as surprised.

"How did you know that?" he asked.

Perrin ignored the question and asked, "How much were you told about what happened to them?"

"Told?" Zorrik repeated with a frown. "I was there. I know what happened to them."

Perrin nodded, but didn't immediately say anything. He could see the Master Assassin growing impatient, though.

"This Rebellion has been growing since I was a small child. The Empire abandoned us shortly before I was born, but for a while, people believed it was temporary. They believed that the Assassins would return, that merchants would return." Perrin paused and shook his head. "But they never did. Things started to fall apart. The growing season is very short here, so people began to starve. Then, when I was about five years old, traders came to our town again. They weren't from the south, though, they were from the east."

Perrin let his words, and their implications, hang in the air. He could see the deep confusion on the Assassins' faces, but then realization slowly began to dawn on Zorrik, and he got to his feet.

"What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice full of anger and disbelief.

Perrin nodded slowly. "Exactly what you think I'm saying," he said. When Zorrik only shook his head, he added, "Word of our plight had reached them, and they wanted to help us. They taught us how to fish, how to make do with the little we had, and they traded us fruit from their rich, productive forests."

Zorrik was still shaking his head and started pacing the small room.

"My people are gone," he growled. "I was there! I saw them die."

"Did you?" Perrin said and got to his feet. When Zorrik threw him an angry look, he held his hands up.

"I want to show you something," he said, quietly.

Ra'Jeem glanced over at Zorrik and shrugged. "What could it hurt?" he asked.

"Fine. I guess I do need to get out of this room."

Perrin smiled and then led the two Assassins outside. The air was still thick with smoke, but they didn't cover their faces. Zorrik and Ra'Jeem breathed in the tribute to their colleagues and followed the young man to a more rural part of town. Behind a residential area with small cabins was a block full of greenhouses. The Assassins assumed it was to help extend the growing season for the local crops.

Perrin showed them around a couple of the greenhouses, confirming what they'd thought, but then he showed them inside one that was different. It was warmer and wetter inside, and to their surprise, the greenhouse was full of fruit trees.

Zorrik's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he was frozen in place. Memories from his childhood came flooding back. He recognized these trees and the flowery-smelling fruit hanging from them.

"Where did you get these?" he breathed.

"I told you, they were given to us...by traders from Zytherion," Perrin answered.

Zorrik slowly looked his way, still not sure whether he believed it.

"You were lied to," Perrin said, his voice grim. "It's true, the wave killed a lot of your people, but not all of them. It took a while for them to recover, but they recovered."

Zorrik took a shaky breath and looked back at the trees. He stepped further into the greenhouse and reached for one of the fruits. He looked over at Perrin for permission, and when the young man nodded, he pulled the large, greenish-orange fruit off the tree. He held it to his nose and breathed in the scent, more memories flooding his mind.

"Everyone thinks the Rebellion started in the North," Perrin said. "But it was the Zytherian's resilience that inspired us."