The Vastness

by Hausladen, Blake;

  “Evand, our horses,” one of the guardsmen said and all other thoughts fell away.

  The man had to defend himself as he was mobbed by my company, all demanding to know what he’d seen and where.

  “Not at the fortress,” he managed to say through the mugging. “There on the south side. There, there.”

  He pointed, and I am not sure which of us growled the loudest. Our horses were in open air stables cobbled together between the western footing of Talley Bridge and a dozen wharfs loaded with raw linen.

  Rebellion was fuming until we began to recognize the men working there. Hemari all, and proper masters of horse, too.

  “Better there than out in the park north of the Arsenal,” Blathebed said and the point had to be conceded. Yarik might get at them in the parks. Tucked behind the bridge, they were not even visible to those on Yarik’s side of the river.

  “Your horse in there somewhere? Palomino mare, as I recall?” he asked.

  “Somewhere, but retired now. She turned eight years old the day after the Battle of Priests’ Field. One of Rahan’s men from Thanin, a Master Pickesh bought her. Those are his stables.”

  “Hmm,” was all he could say—was all any of them could say. A proper horsemaster was a man to be trusted.

  There was something else new on the south side of the bridge. A wide section of the low and ugly buildings has been cleared away for a foundation of some kind and a tall expanse of scaffolding. It was a useless place for a high tower, but my brother was known for his odd engineering. I was likely better off not knowing its purpose.

  Something behind us caught my sergeant’s attention, and I was not sure what it was until I spotted the column of men marching north across Talley Bridge toward the Iron Arsenal. They wore no armor and carried long spears. They did not march in unison, and it sounded like they were barefoot.

  “Who commands that lot?” I asked. No one answered, and the question hung until we had our boots back upon solid ground. The sergeant and I jumped down the gangway as soon as it was in place, and I found the lieutenant in command and pointed at the bridge.

  “Who does that lot answer to?” I asked.

  “The girl,” he said while trying to salute. “The magical girl. The Warrens have raised her up as some kind of goddess. They’ve taken control of every row and alley. The blue are all back inside the Iron Arsenal now, save the men tending to the horses.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” I said and waved down my angry sergeant. “When I was last here the girl was a rumor. Now she’s is in charge of the Warrens and the Hemari have retreated?”

  “Retreat was not the order that was given, sir,” he said, and I could not get between the sergeant and the lieutenant.

  The veteran took hold of the man by the collar of his coat and gave him a shake. “You’ve bought into this freedom for the Warrens hog shit, too, have you?”

  “They held back a charge of the Hurdu and keep the grain flowing,” the young man said and proved braver still when he stood up into the sergeant’s grip, “We are glad for them, too, now that they are going to be filling the boats. No more river duty for us, either.”

  This news softened our anger and Blathebed let the lad go.

  While we gawked at the line of spearmen, Admiral Sewin stepped down the gangway with his boatswain and walked passed us. “We should be moving. Our report of the day is due.”

  I had not asked permission to go ashore.

  Sewin hid his anger better than my sergeant, but not by much. We fell in behind his boatswain and started up toward the fortress.

  Sewin’s pace did not err, and before I could get myself into the right mind, we’d climbed up to and through the fortress and reached the top of the eastern tower. It was one of the largest towers in the city, its battlement wider than most grand halls.

  Our Exaltier and another of his freed slaves, Grand Patriarch Avinda Dooma stood with a small group discussing some aspect of the city below. The other corners were crowded with noblemen and officers from each of the ten provinces that had sided with us. The Ludoq of Havish made almost a third of the group as always, and my emotions tumbled about at the sight of them. I’d lost a war to those men, but standing at their center was Liv Ludoq, the women who’d captured my heart. I’d spent the better part of a year chasing her across half of Zoviyan only to have her catch me.

  She smiled and winked, and I would have crossed to gather her up into a hug, but the gathered audience paused and turned as the four of us emerged.

  Rahan saw us, seized up the layers of his dalmatic and robes and started across as though he was still nothing more than a scribe in the service of our brother Barok. He’d spent more than a year hidden with him in Enhedu, while the rest of our family worked to murder me. I’d suffered the title of crown prince while he was hidden away, and I’d never been more relieved than when he’d reappeared in Bessradi and claimed our father’s throne. Rahan loved the crown like sane men loved wine and women. His casual air that evening made me doubt him, though, as I watched the uncertain eyes of the provincials around us.

  Avin, by way of comparison, glided across as though he was a statue pulled upon a sled. The four of us were beginning to bow when Rahan stepped straight into the group, hugged Admiral Sewin and shook the boatswain’s hand.

  The action was arresting. Sewin and the rest were to be treated as kin, and Rahan meant for all of us to know it. It was hard to watch. My father’s treatment of such men was measured in lashes. The audience seemed as uncomfortable, and my sergeant wore an ugly snarl.

  Rahan turned then and extended his hand toward the sergeant before I could prevent the confrontation.

  “Sergeant Blathebed, I am in your debt,” Rahan said to him.

  The weather-chewed soldier froze in place. Our Exaltier clasped his shoulders in lieu of the failed handshake.

  “I understand you were the first man of the 1st Division to tear off his insignia during the Battle of Priests’ Field and join Evand. We owe that day to you, Sergeant, and by extension every victory since. Please accept from me and my son, all the blessings and gratitude of our family.”

  Blathebed and I saw at the same moment what Rahan held in his hand. It was a set of insignia from the Hemari 5th. The old soldier punched my arm hard and pointed like a grinning boy who’d seen two girls kiss.

  “Where did you get those?” we asked Rahan in unison.

  He ignored our question and said with a firm voice, “I wish that the Hemari be reformed, true and loyal, like the men of old. I would have them wear the insignia of the fallen 5th. And I would have you, Sergeant Blathebed, be the first man to wear it, and for you and you alone to judge which men may join its ranks. With the blessings of your Exaltier and your Sten, Sergeant Blathebed, will you accept the rank of general and reform for us the Hemari 5th?”

  The old sergeant eye’s filled with tears.

  I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth. That was my post.

  Liv caught my eye—chastised me with a fixed brow and tight lips. I sniffed and uncrossed my arm. I tried to hold still. If she could see my anger, so could the rest.

  Damn you, Rahan. What am I, your footstool?

  I tried to relax my jaw and watched Blathebed accept the embroiled white triangles. The five-pointed stitching upon them had been repaired.

  I bit my tongue and applauded with the rest while two boys came forward with needles and thread to sew Rahan’s purple and black checkered square over the wounds upon his arms and then the insignia over the square. A third boy appeared with a heavy battle-scared helmet set with a fresh crest of golden horsehair. I could smell the turmeric. Rahan put it upon Blathebed’s head while general’s marks and the silver emblems of a royal envoy were sewn upon his shoulders. My arms and shoulders were left naked, and I eyed the bag Rahan carried.

  It was mine. It contained all the insignia and officers’ marks of the fallen 5th I’d bought from looters that terrible summer. It contained enough to keep Blathebed busy for a long
time.

  Rahan set his eyes on me then. His expression was desperate and his hands shook. I could offer back nothing but disbelief, and his shoulders sagged.

  The boys finished, and the Sten recited an old Church blessing. I didn’t hear it.

  The tremble in Rahan’s hands moved up into his shoulders. He looked at me again, and I turned away from the fool man and his weakness.

  “Leger Mertone,” Liv said, and I spun to see that she had crossed to join us. She had one hand upon Blathebed’s shoulder and gestured to Rahan. “Your time with him is the reason the two of you are so similar. I have been searching for the reason but it is so plain to me now that I see you standing together.”

  Blathebed stepped across and took hold of Rahan by the shoulder as though they were dear friends. “You knew Leger? I finished my fifty with him before we marched to Heneur.”

  “Avinda and I bled with him in Enhedu,” Rahan said. “He was a dear friend. He grew up in the Warrens.”

  The slander was a bridge to far. I opened my mouth to call my brother a liar when Liv bumped into me as she moved to take Rahan and Blathebed by the arm.

  “I had no idea,” she said.

  Blathebed looked as outraged as I was, but then said, “By the ice, I think you’re right. Lord Vall took men wherever he could find them at the start. Any whelp coming off the back side of their municipal service was swept into the ranks. I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “The two of you should find time for a meal and share stories of him.”

  “I would like nothing more, my lord. I would invite all those alive who knew him, if you would not mind dining with a half-dozen ugly old men.”

  Rahan took his hand like they were spit-shaking on a deal and handed him my bag full of insignia. Blathebed opened it and the contents inspired him to wrap the Exaltier of Zoviyan in a gigantic hug. The sound of cheering and applause rose.

  My ears began to ring, and my jaw would not relax.

  I’d spent only a few moments in Rahan’s company since we’d so hastily hatched a plan with our brother Barok for defeating Yarik. I’d heard it again and again since how Rahan could befriend anyone. To see it, though—to see him earn the old soldier’s trust and friendship—I struggled to abide how easy it came to him.

  Liv took hold of my arm, hugged me close, and whispered in my ear. “What is wrong with you?”

  “After all I’ve done, I am sent on errands and ignored.”

  She drew me aside with a smile and tapped her tummy. “If this is a boy, you are a threat,” she said with a whisper that betrayed none of her hostility. “The wisest course for Rahan is to be rid of us, and if this is news to you, you best wake to it fast. Do not discount his mercy. I will not be mounted on a pike because you want to play soldier again.”

  I didn’t understand her hostility and she read my confusion. She leaned close. “Word arrived from Alsonelm. They have declared themselves the keepers of the Chancellery and refuse to ratify the meeting of Council of Lords that put Rahan on the throne or Avinda not guilty verdict. We are on the brink of collapse here. Do not make this day any worse.”

  My stomach churned. My brother had chosen a sergeant over his own blood, and had made former slaves his admiral and his Sten. I did not give a damn for his troubles in Alsonelm. I’d brought him the men he needed to win the city. The honor of command was mine.

  Liv nudged me with her elbow and I looked up so see that Rahan had turned. She abandoned me, took the boatswain by the arm, and the pair became the broom that swept the rest down the stairs. When the crowd was gone, Rahan made straight for the corner of the parapet. General, admiral, and Sten followed. I went too, but did not know what to call myself.

  My brother pointed up the east branch of the river and said, “Before Admiral Soma burned them, there had been two bridges immediately north of the Iron Arsenal. Both have been reduced to their stone footings. You can see them there. The associated roads on our side of the river make their way through the wide, hilly park north of the Arsenal before joining and making the turn northwest toward the city wall and out toward Alsonvale and the provinces. We control that section of the city for now, and for us to survive, we must continue to. To the north, Alsonelm has closed its gates to both Yarik and to us, blockaded their bridges, and chained the river. They claim they will declare their loyalty after the local court examines the record delivery from the Counsel of Lords and has ruled on my legitimacy. It is our view that they will continue to delay until one side or the other is a clear winner. All of this I expect that you know. Now notice, please, the work camp organized in the streets and the far side of the footings of the second bridge and the heavy stone piled throughout the camp.”

  Sewin thumped the battlement with his fist. “They mean to bridge the river using the bridge footings as foundation.”

  “Yes. As we feared he would, Yarik means to force a crossing.”

  Sewin asked, “Does he have what it takes to finish such a project? That would require an immense amount of stone and men.”

  “He can get the stone, and if he fills that work camp, he’d have men enough to force a crossing in thirty or forty days.”

  Blathebed asked them, “If we are not worried about Yarik attacking across Tin Bridge, why do we care about him crossing here?”

  Sewin said, “I pray each day that they attempt an action upon a bridge I can sail beneath with barges. I have thirty heavy chains waiting to tear them apart, and if they persist, we can pull away the footings and collapse the bridge. This ... I can do nothing to a high wall of rock. His army will make the crossing and we would be confined to the Warrens. We would be finished.”

  “The Hemari 4th in Alsonelm will not rally to us?” I asked.

  “No. They are waiting for a ruling on legitimacy.”

  “Don’t the Grano rule there?” Blathebed asked. “Evand, your mother’s was the second daughter of the Phost Grano, was she not? They and the 4th should be with us.”

  The frown Rahan had for this mention of our parentage became as dark as my own. His mother and mine, along with the rest of our father’s wives had been found dead within a walled estate north the Arsenal. It was a place none of us had known about—our father’s secret nest for his hundreds of wives. When he died and the bells rang to tell the city he was gone, his men made sure that his wives went with him.

  Rahan calmed. I did not. He said to Blathebed, “The Grano stand with us, but they hold more sway in Thanin than Alsonelm these days. It is the Corneth that control the city’s coffers, archives, and for now the garrison.”

  This did not solve Blathebed’s confusion. Avinda said, “The archives contain a copy of every court case, transaction, and debt owed by every royal and noble family. Neither Yarik nor Rahan can maintain the throne without their support. They behave as though they mean to make a claim for the through themselves.”

  Sewin’s attention was on the work camp. “Can we stop him?”

  “No,” Rahan said. “All we can do is delay him, fortify our side of the river, and be ready to fight him when he comes. General Blathebed, can you turn the freemen of the Warrens into an army in time?”

  Avinda said to him, “Leger managed it in Enhedu. Perhaps we invite a few of the greencoat officers to dinner to hear more of his methods?”

  Blathebed began to nod as though the challenge of making slaves into Hemari was welcome. “We’ll have to start immediately.”

  I could not believe he said it, turned away, and spat over the side. When I turned back around, I was alone.

  13

  Emi

  Princes

  We made the long walk up Thorn Street, through the gates of the Iron Wall, and started across the long bridge that connected the Warrens to the fortress that guarded the city’s river. Behind us, the cheering began to fade. The cool, crisp breeze atop the bridge was foreign to me and reminded me of the long night Pia and I had spent hidden at the top of the Central Plaza tithe tower. I missed her. I wanted to hold he
r hand like we had those few days before my touch could set people on fire. I wanted to walk with Corwin, the brave greencoat from Enhedu who died to save me. I wanted to ask him about our magic. I wanted to save him. I wanted to save the other freemen who threw themselves upon the Hurdu swords to save me. I wanted to hug them all close.

  Benjam squeezed my hand. His metal glove pinched me. “Are you okay, Emi?”

  I’d stopped walking. The sixty freemen with us had come to a halt and were all looking at me. I did not like their eyes. I could not live up to what they wished of me.

  “Fine,” I answered, and tried not be afraid. I did not want the love of the Warrens. I wanted to be a scout like Benjam. I wanted to be a counter of things. It was what we had agreed to, but Benjam’s wounds had taken him away to Lord Rahan’s fortress, and then the Warrens called me a goddess. Twelve mornings in a row, one and one half million people woke worshiping my magic. They had defeated the Hurdu, Zoviya’s most feared army, and every day since fewer of them thought of themselves as slaves. I closed my eyes, and watched their souls continue to entwine with each other. They were not solitary slaves anymore. They called themselves freemen and would die believing it.

  I squeezed Benjam’s hand despite the pinch. “When will it be time for me to help you count things?”

  “There are a few people you must meet.”

  “Scouts like you?” I asked but he did not respond. “I am going to work for you, right? Counting people?”

  Again, no answer. Master Pickesh leaned in to say something but caught a glare from the captain.

  “Benjam?”

  “Things have gotten complicated,” he said. He was eager to get moving over the bridge. The freemen were on guard. The crowd looked on.

  I pulled my hand free, and twenty-seven of the freemen started up toward us with their spears at the ready. They eyed Benjam, and the captain did not miss their dark looks.

  “Emi, take my hand,” he said. “They think I have offended you.”