As the white walls came in sight – Oh Discordia! To see the beauty of those walls again! – Rebecca knew it was time to do what she dreaded most about this trip. It was the part of her plan that made her a non-threat. With the dagger Jon had given her she decided to do the worst of it first and gave herself a precisely ragged cut across the bridge of her nose, through her eyebrow, and into her hairline. She ripped her clothes, cut across her arms, legs and stomach, and let the blood run free to stain her clothes. With a quick limp that was just real enough to count, Rebecca made her way to the front gate of the white city.
There was a line to get in – the guards were being extra careful with the lurking threat of her about, but none of them had seen her in nearly a decade, and before that it had only been as Robert. With her guns stashed in her bag she looked like a peasant woman who had been attacked.
"Help me please!" She ran to the front of the line, blood dripping from her face. "A man attacked me! He was a gunslinger!"
They ushered her in, asking where he had attacked her and told her to stay put as they shut the gates and went out to find the rogue "gunslinger". Rebecca took the opportunity to wipe her face, press her hand to the wound on her head, and take off toward the castle at the center of the city. If she didn't run into someone she knew on the way she would go straight to her old rooms and see if her father was still alive.
She was only a block away from the castle when she ran into Donald Baine. He looked at her without recognition, the way a gunslinger would always be drawn to blood. It wasn't until she breathed "father" that his eyes changed and he realized who she was.
"Child, is that really you?"
She nodded and he took her into a hug, ignoring the blood that was seeping into his shirt. "Man Jesus, what has happened?" He didn't ask where she had been – he'd obviously talked to Lane already.
"I was attacked," she said simply – the quickest way to make someone believe you was to be short and to the point. Stories gave way to doubt.
"By who?" he asked and held her away from him to look her over. "Never mind. Let's get you cleaned up and then you can tell me."
Rebecca smiled and let him lead her to their rooms, her head down, hand clamped over the cut. She loved her father for not asking questions right away. He cleaned her up, giving her a pair of her old clothes that were now a little too tight. Her nose wouldn't stop bleeding so he put a stitch in it and then sat back to take a good look at her.
"How is your arm?"
Rebecca laughed. "I disappeared ten years ago, show up a bleeding traitor, and you want to know how my arm is?" She shook her head, smiling. "My arm is ok."
He smiled in return. "Lane said you have a daughter?"
"I do." She met his eyes and gave a small smile, even as her heart ached for Becky and Jon.
"I hope she gives you hell."
"She's a perfect angel," she managed to say before she began crying. "I'll never see her again," she whispered and looked down at her scarred hands.
His hands covered hers. "Child, what happened?"
And so she began explaining it to him – that Lane had shown up in Thunderclap, guns and all, and when the town found out who she was (a gunslinger's daughter, she explained; it was no use telling that mob that she had been a gunslinger) they had attacked her. "Jon, my husband, he started it. I was so surprised that I didn't react in time. He gave me this one." She touched her forehead with a silent prayer that Jonathan would forgive her for this lie. "I guess I got the others running away."
Donald nodded and she thought for a moment he was going to call her out on her lie, but he only pushed himself up and shuffled to the stove for hot water. "Well," he spoke, back turned, "I'm sorry to hear of your troubles. I'm not sure you won't meet an angry mob here though. Your friend has everyone on alert for you and your Red Army."
"Not nearly alert enough. The guards are fools; they practically threw me into the city."
Donald looked back at her and smiled. "So then, tell me more about this life of yours in Thunderclap," he said as he brought over two hot cups of tea. Rebecca thanked him and he smiled again at the pleasant change in her mannerisms. The years away hadn't been that bad for her after all.
xxxxx
Excusing herself to her old room to relieve herself, Rebecca just missed Lane's knock on the door.
"They can't find her or her army anywhere near the city. I swear the guards couldn't find their own cocks if they were sucking on them." Lane sunk heavily in the seat Rebecca had just been in and looked at Donald, whose face gave nothing away. "They swear up and down that a woman told them she was attacked by a gunslinger. And now they can't find the woman either. Not to mention explain how she got away from a gunslinger."
Rebecca made her way to her bedroom door, watching the back of Lane's head as he spoke. She felt bad for putting him through this, but not bad enough to stop. Leaning against the doorway as if for support, she hoped she looked convincingly beaten. If not he'd probably finish the job.
"I suppose not all women are as weak as you give them credit for."
"Gandammit," he spat as he recognized her voice and began to turn. "I should have known." He didn't let surprise show in his eyes at the sight of her, but he did take a long, frowning look. "I told you not to return to Gilead."
"I told you the same," she replied and limped over, moving just enough to give the impression of pain.
"Alright," Lane sighed, "let's hear it."
Rebecca snorted, then coughed out the dried blood she'd just inhaled. "I cut myself up so I could come here on a suicide mission to destroy Gilead," she smirked.
"Nice try. What really happened?"
"That's the truth," she said and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms and wincing.
"I'm not stupid, Rebecca," Lane spat. "There is no way you'd cut yourself, and even less chance you'd come back on a suicide mission. You love yourself too much.
"I am rather fond of me," she said with a laugh.
"So then, what happened?"
She gave him a straight look, trying to stare him down. "I'm not telling you."
"You damn well better or I'll arrest you and let the Council grill you instead."
"You are going to arrest me anyway," she spat back and he moved forward to grab her.
"Lane," Donald said before the other man could get up. His voice was calm, but there was a distinct note of warning it in. Looking at his daughter for permission, she nodded and looked away.
"Her husband did it."
The anger drained from Lane's face as he turned to her. "You let him do this to you? You were a gunslinger!"
"It… I couldn't hurt him," she whispered. "It wasn't just him; it was a whole mob. He dealt the first blow and then they all…" She looked at him finally, pain and pleading in her eyes. "I told you not to wear your guns so openly in town."
"Christ, Becka, I'm sorry." Lane ran a hand through his hair and stood, pacing the room. "So what do you plan to do now? You can't stay in Gilead – they'll kill you."
"They'll kill me if I go back to Thunderclap." Rebecca sighed. "I'm going to go to the Council and tell them everything – all of Farson's plans, where he will attack, how, and when as close as I can figure. Throw myself on their mercy and beg them to let me stay."
"To see you beg would probably be enough." Lane sat down heavily in his chair. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No." She gave him a small smile, "you had nothing to do with this one. I'll go alone."
xxxxx
The Council chambers were in an uproar by the time Rebecca and Donald arrived. Councilmen were yelling at guards, who were trying to explain how they lost both the girl and the army, pages were furiously recording testimony in the low speech, and Gunslingers were flowing in and out with reports of nothing. No one even looked at her when she first walked in.
A gentle push from her father's hand kept Rebecca moving forward as she slid through the crowd until she was nearly to the long table the council sat at. One of the guards recognized her.
"That's her! That's the woman who was attacked." He pointed and all heads in the room turned her way, silence falling over most of them.
Rebecca's heart thudded deep within her chest as she stood and looked across the row of Councilmen. There were some new faces, but one face had stayed the same. Sai Veriss was still seated in the middle of the table, face swollen with fat, thin hair white and mostly gone, beady little black eyes looking her up and down so she shivered with repulsion. How anyone could call this fat, corrupt man head Gunslinger was beyond her.
"Sai Baine," he said, voice like sandpaper and black oil. Rebecca's heart beat faster at the sound of her old name in his mouth. "I see you have brought the woman. We must thank you for finding her. You are dismissed, I will make sure these incompetent guards don't lose her again."
Rebecca looked quickly back at her father who gave her only the briefest glance before bowing to the Council and stepping back. He may have understood, but he didn't agree. He was going to let his daughter do this on her own.
"Please state your name for the record," Veriss sighed, put out by the events of the day.
Rebecca's brows drew together in an untrusting frown. "Don't you know me, sai?"
"I don't have time to learn the names of every man, woman and child in Gilead. Now what is your damn name, woman?"
Rebecca crossed her arms and scowled. "Oh, you already know me, sai. You know me very well."
It was the contempt in her voice that finally jogged Veriss' memory, and his eyes opened in shock as he recognized the glare under the cuts on her face. "Arrest her," he said as calmly as possible, and when no one moved he stood and screamed it. "Arrest her!"
"No need." Rebecca held up a hand to pause the guards closest to her from grabbing. "I have come of my own accord to give you the secrets of your enemy."
The men looked to Veriss and he sat, waving them off with a hand. "What kind of secrets? Don't waste my time with trivialities."
Rebecca smiled. "I can tell you where they will attack, how, and how many they have. Their weapons, training…"
The fat old gunslinger rubbed his chin in thought – would the trade even be worth keeping her alive? Or should they just kill her and deal with the Good Man's Army when they arrived? Killing her was so tempting. Making her suffer; watching her writhe in pain beneath his hands. She could take the pain, he knew that already, but he would hurt her to a point she'd never forget. He would draw out her death until she begged him – begged him! – to kill her.
"Do you want to know or not?" Rebecca asked, impatient. She had expected him to jump at the opportunity, not sit around mulling it over. What if he said no? She'd still be sitting in the jail cell when the Red Army attacked. At least she'd see Jonathan again. Part of her almost wished Veriss would have her arrested.
Veriss stared at her with a grim face. "Fine. You tell us their secrets and I won't have you killed."
xxxxx
"Sit her down there." Veriss pointed to a chair in the middle of the dark stone room. They were beneath the castle in the prison set aside for traitors. She was quite sure she was in a room normally reserved for torture, but there was no point in torturing someone who was speaking freely. She hoped.
"I'm a big girl now, Veriss; I can sit on my own, thanks." Rebecca gave him a thin smile before the large guard pushed her down into the chair. He cuffed her right wrist to the back before she could get comfortable, and she glared at the head of the Council. "I really don't think that's necessary."
Without a word he ambled over and smacked her hard across the face with the back of his hand, splitting her lip and popping the stitch so blood trickled down her nose.
Rebecca wiped her face with her free hand. "Well, at least the handcuffs make sense now. Do you propose to beat me to death, or would you actually like to know what I have come to tell you?"
"If you are going to tell me regardless, then I'd rather have the pleasure of beating you."
She gave a short laugh. "Sai, I was a gunslinger. Beat me all you want and I won't say a word. Remove the cuffs and stay your hand and I'll tell you what you want to know."
"You were only a gunslinger because I let you be one." Veriss smirked.
"Oh, I didn't realize you let me beat you at my test, only to stab me afterward." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, sai, did you expect me to die of one little knife wound, or were you planning on dishonoring yourself before the Council and half a dozen 'slingers?"
The back of his hand cracked across her face again and Rebecca bit her lip from saying more. Both ends of her nose were freely bleeding, as was her lip, and her right eye was beginning to swell shut. She leaned back and stared the fat man down. "Are you done?"
Veriss sat down in a chair opposite her. "Talk."
"The cuffs."
"The cuffs stay on until you are done."
She almost protested. She almost decided to sit and stare at him until he got sick of her and removed them, but it was more likely that he would kill her, so she swallowed her pride and her hatred and fixed the bright sight of Gilead in her mind. It wouldn't go down without a fight, and she would provide the fight they needed to go down with honor.
"They are twenty thousand strong, with an elite force of four hundred that are just as well trained as your gunslingers. Even if you call back all of your men in time, you will be vastly outnumbered."
"An elite force of four hundred?"
"Four hundred and one, until I left."
Veriss nodded. "I see. So they were going to allow you to fight as part of their 'elite'."
"Sai, I trained their elite. There would be no elite but for me."
He gave her a bland look. "So you admit to treason?"
"I admit to giving others the fair chance I was never granted."
"Come now," he smiled. "I gave you a fair chance, did I not?"
"Your price was much too high," she spat back, glaring as if looks really could kill. "Farson knew what you did; Farson knows all. You'd do better to change your archaic ways and make a deal with them. For all my help you are still going to lose."
"Then why bother coming back? You'll be killed either way; you should have stayed on the winning side, if that's what you believe."
"I finally remembered the face of my father, sai. I suggest you try it sometime. It couldn't be that hard for you – you're corrupt enough to be a child of the Crimson King."
She knew his hand was coming this time and braced herself, but it never hit her. Instead she found herself looking down the barrel of his gun.
"I don't think I care about your secrets anymore, sai Baine. I suggest if you want to see the other side of this moment that you start telling me what I want to know and cut the crap in between. I want to know when, where, and how."
He thumbed back the hammer and she had the brief desire to tell him to shove it up his hairy ass and just shoot her already, but that would take away her pleasure of killing him later. And if she had to suffer through this gan-forsaken trip she was taking him with her.
"A month, at the absolute latest. Jericho Hill. They have guns, all of them, and greater firepower as well. Weapons you have never heard of. They will blow down the walls and pour into the city unless you can take them at the hill."
"Is that all?"
"That's as much as I was privy to, yes."
Veriss stood, un-cocked the gun, and stared down at her broken face for a moment before swinging the gun down at her head, handle first. She tried to get her arm up to block it, but couldn't manage in time. Rebecca blacked out just as pain flowered through her temple.