Lord of Order by Brett Riley (the reading list book TXT) 📕

I assume you’re stepping up to help us get this Troubler’s confession, he said. Because if you make one move to stop us, I’ll gutshoot you and let you take his place.

Boudreaux’s hand fell away from the gun. He raised both hands, palms out, trying hard to keep his face expressionless.

Not even outta the room.

Do something, said Clemens. Or don’t.

Boudreaux’s mouth had gone dry. Lord, forgive me. He’s got me dead to rights. If they get me on that table, they’ll work me till I betray everybody. No matter what else I do, I can’t be the engine of their destruction. I just can’t. Forgive me. Forgive me.

He cleared his throat. I was just thinkin maybe you should ease up. Look at him. He’d blow away in a strong wind. He said his family was starvin. You really plan to torture him for tryin to save em?

Clemens sneered. We don’t make the rules, boy. We just enforce them. Mr. Rook says sinners have to pay for their crimes. It’s that simple.

Boudreaux said nothing. He felt his face redden. He was no good to anyone dead, no good to Kouf alive. Shame burned through him like fever.

Benn turned back to Kouf. This gentleman could probably explain the economics of thievery, Deputy Boudreaux. When one man steals and gets away with it, he licenses every other thief. That way lies chaos. And then there is the matter of the sin. We must make him repent, or else it will weigh his soul down and sink it into the fiery pit. Just as the darkest sin can shine in our flawed vision like diamonds, so is salvation often jagged and ugly, like this knife’s blade. That is the way of things. Even if we wish it otherwise.

Benn holstered his weapon and stuck the point of the knife on Kouf’s torso, just below the breastbone.

PLEASE! Kouf wailed.

Benn flicked his wrist, opening a two-inch vertical incision. Blood pooled out of it and ran down Kouf’s sides in rivulets. He shrieked, sucked in air, shrieked again. Blood dripped onto the floor. Boudreaux felt his gorge rise and struggled to stop it. He burped. Clemens grinned and let go of Kouf’s hair. Benn tossed him the knife. He dropped it on the cart and picked up the hook, handing it to Benn, who let Kouf contemplate it. The man whimpered again.

Benn shoved the hook into the incision with a sound like a man walking in water-logged boots. Kouf screamed again. Hot, acidic bile rose into Boudreaux’s throat. He held his hand over his mouth but did not turn away. Clemens watched him as Kouf’s head thrashed from side to side, lips pulled back in a grimace, rotting teeth clenched and splintering. Benn rotated the hook and then pulled it out, dragging with it a link of bluish intestine.

This ain’t right, Boudreaux croaked. It’s sick.

Clemens’s sardonic grin disappeared. We’ve been killing Troublers since before you were born, son. It’s about time you bayou rats caught up to the times. Now get over here and help hold him down.

Boudreaux retched. No. I’m gettin outta here.

Clemens drew his weapon. We’ve been over this. Come hold his head still before he beats his own brains out. Or you can be next.

Boudreaux stared down the gun’s barrel. Then he turned to Kouf, who still thrashed, his screams now little more than hoarse whispers, his hands hooked into claws. Benn looked serene as he yanked the intestines out. He might have been alone in his kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. His eyes met Boudreaux’s. The deputy lord saw no fear or uncertainty there, only conviction.

Forgive me, Boudreaux said. He did not know if he were speaking to Kouf or to God.

He grabbed Kouf’s head with both hands and held on with all his might, the cords in his neck standing out. Clemens holstered his weapon and moved to Boudreaux’s left, placing his palms on Kouf’s shoulders, pushing down as Benn yanked the hook upward again. A good two feet of Kouf’s insides now hung in the air between implement and wound.

Kouf could no longer scream. He moaned instead. Then he moved his lips.

He’s prayin.

Benn lowered the bloody, gut-wrapped hook and laid the whole mess on the island. You want to be very still, Mr. Kouf, he said. If you jerk, you’ll knock that hook onto the floor, and Mr. Clemens will likely kick it across the room, taking your innards with it. Do you understand?

Kouf’s face had turned fish-belly white. His eyelids fluttered as if he might pass out. Benn slapped him. He still did not answer, but he seemed more present.

Good enough, Clemens asked, or should I pull out an eye?

Good enough, Benn said. Now, Mr. Kouf, I’m going to ask you again, and before you answer, you should remember you’ll die here either way. Your only choice lies in how you’ll face God. Are you ready?

Yes, Kouf rasped.

On the march, did you or did you not steal your guard’s supplies?

Kouf swallowed hard several times and closed his eyes. His lips moved again.

I took some jerky and water, he whispered. My wife and daughter were starving. I begged the guards for water, just enough for my girl, but they laughed at me.

Clemens grinned. Safer not to have a family, he said to Boudreaux. Like me. Like you. We’re free in a way this Troubler never was, even before somebody put him in chains.

Benn frowned. Family is strength, Mister Clemens. Unless you yourself are weak. He pushed the sweaty, greasy hair away from Kouf’s face. Only one more question, and then you can rest. Do you admit your disloyalty to the Crusade?

Kouf never blinked. His voice seemed stronger now. No. I love my God and my church. As do my wife and daughter.

Kouf had barely finished speaking when Benn grabbed the hook and yanked, dragging out more intestine. Kouf’s hoarse, cracking cry filled the room. Clemens chuckled.

Clemens is crazy. They both are, and damned too. So