Reap the Whirlwind

by C. J. Cherryh

  * * *

  Mai joined them in the lantern-lit barn before they were quite finished. "They're very impressed, Jegrai," she said quietly, dumping her four pots, still stinking of sulfur and brimstone, with the rest of the gear. "I don't think you'll be having any trouble with them for a while."

  "Maybe," he said, pausing for a moment to look closely at the Master, with his hands full of towel and his hair dripping down his back. "But—Felaras, what of the time when we pull this same trick on the Talchai? They are bound to realize that they were deceived."

  "Thought about that already, lad," she said, while Halun silently helped her out of her greaves. He unbuckled the straps and lifted them away, and she groaned and flexed her ankle. "Gods, I'd forgotten how damned heavy this crap was. Kasha, love, get the cloth off my horse's feet, will you? You won't be a part of that trickery, Jegrai—or at least your people won't. I'll have the Watchers do it, tricked out in Vredai gear. Some of your people will know, or guess, what we did, and some will learn how and why—but I'd rather it was the next generation down the line."

  Jegrai nodded, and began toweling off his hair.

  "I think you're likely to have more respect than you know what to do with when you ride in, Khene," Mai said with a hint of amusement. "They're convinced that Felaras is a Holy Messenger from the Wind Lords, and equally convinced that a pair of kizhiin carried Halun off to unending torture. Last I saw, Iridai and Gortan were in the process of giving away all their worldly goods, beating their breasts and praising the compassion of the Wind Lords for sparing them."

  Jegrai snorted: "Give them a few days, and they'll be back to telling me I'm a fool to my face," he said, with just a hint of amusement in his voice. "But at least I don't think I need to be watching behind my back for plots for a while."

  "I doubt you'll ever need to again, Jegrai," Felaras replied.

  Halun nodded, and handed her a wet towel. "What they heard back there was the Messenger of the Wind Lords all but telling them that you are their special darling. There were no few of your people who'd have been willing to follow you through hell before this. Now all of them will be."

  The surprised expression on Jegrai's face was rather funny. "Me?" he squawked. "God-touched?"

  Halun nodded again. "Yes, Khene."

  "Think about that, son," Felaras said urgently. "Think about that hard."

  "Indeed," Halun said, with a sorrow too profound for release. "Think about that. I was told I was all but god-touched; you people have given scholars that cachet. I was listened to as if I knew all wisdom. I was offered power—and it turned my head—and because of my own ambition and pride and self-deception an innocent boy died, died horribly. Think very hard about that, and decide what you want to do about it."

  Out of the corner of his eye he caught Felaras staring at him with a very thoughtful expression, and when he finished—

  She put one hand on his shoulder.

  Just that—but he knew then, without her saying a word, that out of some well of compassion of her own, those words of his had given her the strength to forgive him.

  Even though he would never forgive himself.

  "Khene," she said into the silence, "it's time you went back to your people, and me to mine. Our work is still only half finished."

  "In truth," Jegrai agreed, and tossed his towel back to Mai, who caught it with a grin. He pulled on his tunic, and then turned to where his horse was standing—all the phosphor washed off him, now—and jumped into the saddle without bothering to use the stirrups.

  "I expect a full report in the morning, lad," Felaras called.

  He grinned over his shoulder at her; then, with a wave of his hand, sent his horse out the barn door at a brisk canter.

  "Yes," Felaras said, looking disconcertingly into Halun's eyes, "our work is only half finished."

  * * *

  "All right, all right," Felaras shouted, her head beginning to ring from all the echoing voices around her. "Get settled, damn you!"

  The din in the Hall died down, and complete silence took its place.

  Felaras took a long, slow look around the Hall—this time she could see her audience; she'd need to, so she'd insisted that every one of them bring a candle or a lamp. Row after row of faces, each lit from below by a yellow flame—it was, in a strange way, beautiful. The Hall glowed with light, as it never had before—

  And likely, as it never would again.

  "You all know what's been happening," she said gruffly, taking her seat in the chair she'd had brought to replace the lectern. After all of this evening's work, her leg was aching like a demon was gnawing at the knee, and damned if she was going to stand! She settled herself carefully, but pain still stabbed up her leg and made her catch her breath for a moment. "You all know by now what Halun did."

  There was a rising murmur—rather unpleasantly like a growl. Halun, seated on the lowest tier of benches and directly across from her, flinched.

  "Shut up!" she snarled, surprising both herself and her audience, who subsided into silence. "Don't you think he's going to pay for that every day of his life? He trained Zorsha! Think about that!"

  A moment more of silence, then a muted sigh as his fellow scholars took in the misery on Halun's face, and saw that she was right.

  "Whether we like it or not, he forced something on us that we should have faced a long time ago," she continued, more quietly now. "And that's our future. We have no choice; we're out in the world, now. The temptation to use our knowledge for mundane power is a great one, and it isn't going to become less. Then there's the question—how can we really devote ourselves to truly seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge when we have an eager Khekhene peering over our shoulders."

  A murmur of surprise at that.

  "Oh, yes, the three Chapter Leaders and I decided that Halun—and Zorsha—were right. We'd be damned fools to let this opportunity pass. Jegrai is enlightened, eager to learn—we can serve at his right hand, guiding him. More than that, we can be the ones to train—and select—his successors."

  Felaras smiled in wry satisfaction at the buzz that last statement provoked.

  "You heard me correctly. Jegrai has agreed, as part of our bargain to help him against the Talchai, and ultimately the Suno, that it will be the Order who selects his heir—male, female, first, last, or baseborn. And it will be the Order who has charge of educating all his children, in wedlock and bastard. There will be no discontented halflings if he has any say about it."

  There were nods of approval and interest all about her. She smiled thinly, shifted her weight a little, and winced as her knee protested the move.

  "But—" She held up an admonishing hand. "There lies temptation. There lies possible corruption, seduction by power, and ultimately, the end of what we know as the Order. Once again, Halun was right. We need to be in hiding in order to do our work freely and without either temptation or coercion. So now you're asking, 'how can we be both?' I'll tell you."

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Oh, gods, I don't want to do this—and I don't have a choice.

  "I'm splitting the Order."

  She'd expected an uproar—and indeed there was one, but it died down within heartbeats. She looked about her with some surprise, then continued as she'd planned.

  "About spring of last year some of the Watchers I sent out to keep track of Jegrai's Clan came back here with a report of another Fortress like this one, south and east of us, in Azgun. Roughly a week hard riding away. This one was smaller, maybe half the size of our Fortress. Thing is, it's no wonder we hadn't seen it before; it was so cleverly built into the side of the mountain that if Aned hadn't stumbled on it, he'd never have known it was there. I hadn't considered fleeing to it when the Vredai first showed up at the Teeth largely because to get to it we'd have had to get past them. The building is in good shape, the Watchers tell me—a little work, and it will be livable. Two years at most and it will be about as comfortable as this place. And nobody except Ardun, a handf
ul of Watchers, and I know where it is. That's where some of you will be going."

  "Which, Felaras?" asked a novice, in a high, unsteady voice. "Which of us are going?"

  Good gods, she thought in wonder. They've accepted it. They've accepted it without a fight. By the gods, Halun was right.

  "Let me first tell you what the plan is that we've worked out," she temporized, giving them a little more time to adjust to what she'd already laid in their laps. "There will be two Masters—the Outer Master, and the Inner. And the Master of the Inner Order will always have the power to overrule any decision of the Outer Master. The Chapter Leaders will all be of the Inner Order. Members of the Order will be allowed one—one—transfer in their lifetime; in either direction, but once the choice is made, children, you are stuck with it. Seekers, there will be very little, if any, research in the Outer Order, and most of the real breakthroughs will be the secrets of the Inner until they decide to dispense them. Archivists, there will be a very great demand for you; we have three duplicates of the Library in storage; one goes with the Inner Order, one stays at the Outer Fortress, and one goes with Jegrai. You will be the keepers of those volumes and the teachers of Jegrai's people. So . . . in the Outer Order there will be a great deal of temporal power, and very little chance for advancement or research. In the Inner, the opposite. And only the Watchers and the Master of the Outer Order will know where the Inner Fortress is located. Ever."

  She scanned their faces, and saw thoughtfulness, -anticipation—and no fear whatsoever.

  "Watchers, yours will be the hardest job; to maintain communication between the two halves of the Order, to make certain that the Inner Fortress remains hidden—and, if need be, to make certain that no member or Master of the Outer Order ever betrays his or her trust."

  She looked about her, and saw with pride the way the members of her own chapter took that.

  Thank the gods. I made the right decision. They'll keep us safe.

  "So, children, you've heard what I have to say. I want you to take a moment to think about which way you want to go. But first of all—Halun, come up here beside me."

  Halun rose from his seat on the benches and walked, slowly and stiffly, toward her. His long silver hair was limp and neglected-looking, he had the appearance of someone only recently recovered from a long illness—and he acted at this moment like he was walking to his own execution.

  And when I'm done here he might wish I'd had his damned head whacked off.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Order of the Sword of -Knowledge—I make Halun the Master of the Inner Order."

  Gasps and weak protests, which she overran with her practice-ground voice.

  "Can any of you think of anyone less likely to abuse his power?" she asked harshly. "After what he's done? When all of you are going to be watching him like hawks for the least little misstep? Remember, the old rules will still hold—the Convocation can unseat any Master with a two-thirds vote. If he turns out to be untrustworthy, take him down."

  She cast a look over to Halun, who looked utterly stunned.

  "As I'm certain you have deduced, I will be the first Master of the Outer Order. And again, the old rules still hold. My successor will have to be one not of my chapter. So now, while the rest of you think about who you want to serve under, and whether you're fit for a long trek and an uncomfortable couple of years, I am going to ask those of you who knew what I was going to do what their choices will be."

  She looked over at Teo, who still wore his grief like a cloak. "Teokane, Outer or Inner?"

  He looked up at her. "Outer, Felaras," he said simply—and a little sadly. "Jegrai needs me. And you do, too."

  "Then I make Teokane my chosen successor," she said. "Not the least because the things he has faced have made him a different person from the Teo we knew. Teokane, step to my right. Halun, to my left."

  Obedient to her will, they did so.

  "Yuchai . . ." The boy looked up at her in astonishment, surprise replacing mourning. "I've had words with your Khene, lad, and he's released you to this choice. And he said—may I quote—you'd be a damned fool to swing a sword when you can send your mind out to the stars. Outer or Inner?"

  "I—Inner, Master Felaras," the boy said, hesitating only for a moment. "Jegrai has all the strength you can give him now, he doesn't need me. And Zorsha—" a catch in his throat, then his voice strengthened. "Zorsha wanted me to stay."

  "Kasha, Outer or Inner?"

  The girl took a long breath, and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Forgive me, Felaras—Inner. Yuchai needs me, and I need him. Any of my sisters could be trained as your Second."

  Kasha turned and looked up behind her at the tiers of seats. "Take Daisa, she's ready for her full status, she's as good or better than I was, at everything. And she's as disrespectful as I am. . . ."

  Felaras nodded; after the way Yuchai and Kasha had been huddled together this past week, she'd more than half expected that decision.

  "Ardun? Do you back Kasha's suggestion?"

  "I agree, Felaras. What's more, I'll make her full Watcher, as of this instant."

  "Daisa?"

  "I'd—" the girl gulped, and seemed unable to reply—but got up and took her stand at Felaras's right, letting her actions speak for her.

  Felaras nodded again.

  But what she didn't expect was Halun's reaction.

  "Then I name Kasha my successor," he said, as soon as Daisa had taken her place. "All of you to witness. It is only because she was of the same chapter as Felaras that she was passed over before. She is fully worthy to sit the Master's seat."

  Kasha stared at him for a long, long moment, then seemed to come to a decision of her own. "It isn't usual," she said, "but it isn't unheard of for the successor to name her successor. I name Yuchai as mine. I can't think of anyone else more likely to live up to—" She choked, and brought her hand over her eyes to hide her tears "—his teachers—"

  "So witnessed," Felaras said, softly but clearly, swallowing down tears of her own. Not now, old girl. Later. Not now.

  Kasha and Yuchai took their places beside Halun, who put his arms around them both, so that they supported each other.

  "Ardun?"

  "Inner, please, Felaras," he said, looking at her pleadingly.

  "Inner it is. And I'm glad of it. You're the best Sword Leader we've had in decades. Kitri?"

  "Outer! This is the chance I've prayed for all my life!" The—now former—Book Leader's face was alight with a fierce joy.

  "Name your replacement."

  "Jesen."

  "Jesen, do you agree to go Inner?"

  Jesen, a tolerably young man, but one who lived and breathed books, nodded. He moved across the row of benches to Felaras's left, and Kitri to her right.

  "Thaydore."

  "Inner, Felaras."

  "Boitan?"

  "Outer."

  "Mai?"

  "Outer, Felaras."

  So it went on, name after name, from the Leaders to the youngest novice, each of them making his choice and moving to the right or left of the Master's seat.

  Finally it was over. Felaras looked over her people, and sighed. It had gone as she had not dared dream. Most of the Tower would be Inner—none of the Flame had chosen the Outer Order, and only about half of the Hand, mostly those who were far more technically oriented than investigative. Bridge constructors, she thought with hope. Healers, and toolmakers. Surveyors and teachers. Those who will build the future I can't even imagine. More than two thirds of the Book had chosen Outer, along with their former Leader, and all of them had that same glow of anticipation in their eyes. Jegrai's people would have good teachers. And the Sword had split roughly in half—

  She looked to her right, to Teo. Poor lad—he's lost one best friend, and now he's losing the other. He's lost all chance of real advancement—Kasha will be able to overrule any decision he makes—

  Teo seemed to feel her regard, and turned to look into her eyes. To her astonishment, he rea
ched out for her hand, and squeezed it briefly. "It's fine, Felaras," he said softly, though his voice shook a little. "I'm going where I'm needed. Really needed. Isn't that the important thing?"

  She glanced at her other side; Halun, Kasha, and Yuchai. They looked nothing alike—Halun tall, and Ancas to the cheekbones, Kasha tiny and pure Sabirn, lanky, exotic Yuchai. But they stood like three generations of a family. Supporting each other. And she somehow had the feeling that this was no passing thing—that this was a bond that would continue through all their lives.

  No worry there.

  She looked out over the last Full Convocation this Hall would ever see—and still saw no fear. Only determination, and an impatience, now that the decisions had been made, to get on with it.

  My children. By the gods, how proud I am of you!

  Then, wryly, And so much for a peaceful old age! Starting all over again. Training a new Second. Well—at least I got to keep the Fortress that doesn't need repairing. I don't envy Halun those winter and spring storms.

  "All right, people," she said into the waiting silence. "I'll want you on the road five days from now. Take whatever you think you'll need, we'll replace it somehow. Make your farewells—if you can't stand it, change your minds, but I don't think many of you will. May the gods go with you all."

  She filled her eyes with them, one last time.

  "The Convocation is dismissed."

  THE END

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