The Cycle of Galand Box Set

by Edward W. Robertson

  "We heard the news last night." The speaker was an older woman, though across from the Keeper, the woman's sun-weathered face and graying straw-colored hair looked positively youthful. She gazed across the others. "I am Ana, Senator of Tanner. Before we go further, I'll know who we're speaking to."

  They made their introductions. Dante and Blays used their real names, but out of the desire to keep herself safe from being hunted by the Mallish, the Keeper had asked to travel under the moniker of Senna. Dante hadn't asked if that had been her birth name.

  "Dante Galand." Ana spoke his name as if she were tasting it—and uncertain what she thought of the flavor. "What interest does Narashtovik have in the troubles of Collen?"

  "That's a convoluted story," Dante said. "Mostly, it's because we share a common enemy. I want Gladdic dead. You should, too."

  "You're mostly here for Gladdic? And why else?"

  "Because I want the same thing for Collen that we achieved in Narashtovik. Freedom. Independence from an empire that's done everything it can to keep us on a leash."

  "Very noble," Ana said. "Do you think we can't fight our own battles?"

  "Narashtovik never could have stood against Gask alone. We needed the help of every ally we could make. I know I look like one of them. And I know that Collen is an extremely proud land—or it never could have resisted the Mallish for so long. But when you're lacking steel, you can't afford to turn away a good sword."

  "Lacking steel." Ana exchanged looks with the other senators.

  A man named Madd squinted at Dante. "You want an alliance, eh? And what do you want to do with it?"

  "What else?" Dante nodded toward the butte of Collen, a vague gray plateau on the horizon. "Drive the Mallish right back to Mallon."

  "Hah!" He laughed, whacking his palm against his thigh. Despite his theatrics, he didn't sound too pleased about his conclusion. "Can't be done."

  "I promise you the situation isn't as bad as it sounds. The Mallish have less than a thousand men in the city."

  "Right. And how'd they take Collen with less than a thousand men?" Madd spat on the shrine's floor. "Demons."

  This drew mutters from the other senators. Ana looked nauseated. "Arawn's turned against us. Sent his demons to murder us."

  Dante held his arms wide. "Why in the world would he do that? You're the ones who still believe!"

  "Because we failed him! We let ourselves be cowed into silence, keeping our faith secret. Letting the Mallish haul off anyone who showed the heart to speak out. The demons are our punishment."

  "The demons aren't from Arawn. They're from Gladdic. And they can be beaten."

  "That right?" Madd said. "It's so easy to defeat them, eh? That's why you're here, pleading for our aid, rather than waving the despot's banner over the city?"

  "We fought the demons and lived. Soon, I'll learn to kill them."

  "And I'll learn to grow wheat from the crack of my ass." Madd shook his head. "We've heard more than enough to vote."

  "Those who wish to fight?" Ana said. No one moved or spoke. "And those who wish to make peace before the demons are unleashed on Tanner."

  All six lifted their hands.

  Cord had remained kneeling during the entire conversation. At the senate's verdict, she stood, her glare hot enough to melt iron. "I was there when the Mallish came. I fought on the front lines, eager to claim my deathright. I gave it up because I believed the fight wasn't over. You look like Colleners, but you have the hearts of rats!"

  Ana's jaw tightened. "Against men? We would fight. We have always fought. But if we lead our people against demons, every one of us will die. And the Mallish will finally win."

  "You know one of the other towns will choose to fight. When they do, you'll join them on the field, and you will be shamed."

  Madd laughed. "They've all heard the same news we have. If you think any of them will fight, then I've got a fine patch of dust to sell you."

  Ana dismissed the hearing before it could grow more heated.

  Dante was too frustrated to speak until he was halfway down the path from the hill. "I can't believe this. Do they think Gladdic won't come for them next?"

  "Not if they surrender," Blays said. "That's what surrendering's for."

  "Surrender." Cord grasped her right fist in her left hand. "May the word blacken their tongues from this day to the grave!"

  "You know, we really ought to have seen this coming," Blays went on. "We might be used to doing battle with sorcerers and killer beasts, but these are farmers. Weavers. Cobblers. If they were beating down our door to go battle the demons from beyond the mortal world, I'd be more afraid of them than the Andrac."

  "Then what's the solution?" Dante said.

  "Solution? Oh, I don't have any of those. Other than going home and enjoying a well-deserved retirement."

  "Don't tell me you're ready to give up. You're the one who always insists we 'do the right thing.'"

  "We've been away from home for months. I'm starting to wonder how much of the world we can save before our luck runs out."

  Dante lapsed into silence. A few days ago, he would have brushed the notion off as defeatist. Now, though, they faced more than Gladdic or his pet Andrac. They faced an army. One that might not have come if they hadn't attacked Cobb's Fort and destroyed the shaden. Morality was a form of arrogance. Who were they to wade in and risk Collen's security on the gamble that they could make it better? He now felt obligated to counterattack the Mallish invaders, but what if that failed, too?

  And provoked the arrival of a second army?

  "Cord," Naran said. "You made it sound as if, should another town choose to fight, Tanner would join them. Why?"

  Cord glanced back at the shrine. "There are five other towns in the basin with Small Senates of their own. Each is bound to the Code of the Wasp. If one town votes for war, the others must join them."

  Blays frowned. "Even if they think it's crazy?"

  "Total unity is the only way we've ever been able to last against the Mallish. To refuse the call when the horn is blown?" She laughed in disbelief. "Such a thing has never happened. The traitors would be eaten by earwigs in hell."

  "If all it takes is one town to blow the horns, that sounds like a fine way to guarantee you'll always go to war."

  "What about the city of Collen?" Dante said. "Doesn't the despot decide when the basin's going to fight?"

  Cord crinkled her face in affront. "Why would the city of Collen get to decide what the town of Tanner must do?"

  Blays scratched his stubble. "Because it's much bigger and it's run by a tyrant?"

  "The system may be crazy," Dante said. "But right now, that's to our advantage. Cord, do you think one of the other senates will agree to war?"

  "The vote was unanimous. It's like their spirit has been sucked from their livers. I fear the others will be as weak-willed." Cord's face brightened. "But we must try, yes? She who lets her fears defeat her carries the enemy's banner for them."

  The bounce returned to her step. Dante's mood remained as chilly as the Woduns. The next town, Dog's Paw, was only ten miles away, but they'd fled Collen with no more than their weapons and the contents of their pockets. Before they left Tanner, they stocked up on provisions, using most of the money Dante had earned treating various maladies in the inn at Collen.

  The road to Dog's Paw was a rutted dirt path running alongside the canal that bisected Tanner. The waterway diverted around hills and depressions, but ran in a straight line wherever possible.

  "This canal had to be built after the rains stopped coming," Dante said to the Keeper. "Have you ever read anything about their construction?"

  Her pale blue eyes swiveled to the sluggish water. "It is written that after the nether ruined the land, and Mallon conquered it, the king brought engineers to build ditches so that farming could resume in his new territory."

  "Such generosity," Blays said. "Suppose they were just looking after their investment?"

  Dante nodded. "Or cl
aiming credit for somebody else's work."

  The Keeper's pace wasn't exactly blazing, but they were able to reach Dog's Paw by sunset. Tanner's houses had been built almost exclusively from wattle and daub, along with a few fieldstone structures. By contrast, Dog's Paw had been carved out of the face of a box canyon. Hundreds of doorways stood in the face of the basalt, some showing wooden doors while others were enclosed with leather hides. Trails criss-crossed the slopes. As their group neared, people stopped to stare down at them.

  A woman hollered, "Got news?"

  "Collen is fallen," Cord yelled back. "And Tanner refuses to fight."

  The woman clapped her hands. "Then there's hope we won't have to face the demons!"

  "That's not encouraging," Blays muttered. "Maybe you should conjure up some illusions to travel with us, Dante. Make it look like Gladdic's not the only one with demonic friends. You know, for their morale."

  "Good idea." Dante wiped dust from his brow. "As the old books say, there's no better way to rally the commoners to your cause than by leading a pack of monsters into their town."

  A massive, three-story shrine had been carved into the middle of the cliffs. Its columns were square-sided, with narrow rectangular fluting running between their capitals and bases. Lights flickered within, carrying a smell like oily sage. Cord led them past the shrine to a tall wooden door gone gray with age.

  This turned out to be the entry to the town's inn. Inside, faint light slanted through slits cut into the stone, but with twilight approaching, most of the illumination was provided by gnarled sticks stuck in shallow clay pots. The source of the oily, sagey smell, the sticks burned with preternatural slowness. Dante had seen the shrubs growing on the way to Dog's Paw.

  He pointed to one of the stalks and elbowed Blays. "Remind you of anything?"

  Blays cocked his head. "Candlefruit?"

  "I got the impression nethermancers traveled to the Plagued Islands after the last time Cellen appeared. They might have taken these plants with them. Harvested them into something that would grow in the tropics."

  "Am I supposed to find this interesting?"

  "That depends on whether your skull contains a brain or just more skull."

  Past the foyer, a damp copper bowl sat on a stone pedestal. Cord made a show of pouring some of her own water into the bowl. This appeared to signal the proprietor that they were worthy of being sold a room. The common room was filled with a blend of blond Colleners, dark-haired Mallish, and a contingent of brown-skinned men with shaved heads and yellow robes—it took Dante a moment to recognize them as being from Parth, an inland territory to Collen's southeast that Mallon had always considered too barren to bother conquering. Everyone in the room seemed to be bartering with each other.

  "What is this place?" Blays said. "A crossroads?"

  Cord glanced over her shoulder. "Dog's Paw doesn't care for laws. It cares even less for Mallish laws. If anyone has the liver to stand up to Gladdic, we'll find them here."

  In their room, the tall windows were enclosed with sun-beaten leather skins rather than proper shutters, but the openings were so narrow a person would have to make an effort to fall through them. The Keeper sat on a chair in the corner, massaging her knees.

  "I will go to the shrine," Cord said. "It's late, but the senate will answer."

  Blays nodded his assent. "And I will go to the common room. It's early, but the beer will heed my call."

  "I'll join you," Naran said. "Dante?"

  Dante found a chair. "If the senate's too important to meet us tonight, I'll join you then. For now, I'd like to talk to the Keeper."

  The others headed downstairs. The old woman continued to rub her knees.

  "Are they sore?" Dante said.

  "At my age, everything is sore."

  "Why not use the ether?"

  "Do you always make things easy on yourself?"

  "I'm one of those strange people who doesn't enjoy pain."

  She smiled to herself. "Pain hurts less the more you face it."

  "When we escaped from Collen," Dante said. "You used the ether to help you breathe underwater. How skilled are you with it?"

  The Keeper shrugged her bony shoulders. "How can I say? I have nothing to compare myself to."

  "How much light can you summon? A single star? A constellation? Or the entire night sky?"

  "Don't speak to me like I'm a child unless you want childish answers."

  "I'm sorry," Dante laughed. He held out his hand and drew as much ether as he could from the dry air, forming a marble of light little bigger than his torchstone. "This is as much as I can do. What about you?"

  She held her hands a foot apart. Opalescent light formed between her palms. Held in this way, the ether was as bright as the sun, but it cast almost no light on its surroundings.

  She let the ether dim, then disappear. "Why do you ask?"

  "In Collen, Blays and I fought the Andrac. We lost, but we didn't come away empty-handed. Ether hurts them. The problem is they heal moments later. I can't summon enough to kill one, but I wonder if you can."

  "I've heard enough of Gladdic to know his mind. He isn't one to commit himself recklessly. Or to hinge his plan on a weapon so easily defeated."

  "Have you ever heard of natural philosophy? It's the process of observing the world, testing its properties, and drawing conclusions from its outcomes. We learned a lot in our encounter with the Andrac. If we apply what we've learned to another encounter, we might formulate a solution to destroy them."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Now I see your mind. And I don't like where it's heading."

  "We don't have to fight one of Gladdic's. All we have to do is summon one of our own. You said that's what the bones are for. Do you know how to use them?"

  "The bones form a doorway. The shape of the doorway determines what can pass through it. If you know the arrangement, using the bones is as simple as a game of taps."

  "I saw Gladdic use them on the road up to Collen."

  Dante closed his eyes, remembering the scene. It had barely been a full day since the fight, and like all times when his life was on the brink of ceasing to exist, his memory of that moment was so strong it felt as if he could walk right into it. He stood to get a quill, but he'd left his in the inn at Collen. The Keeper didn't have one, either. Holding the image in his mind, he ran downstairs to get ink, a quill, and a page from the proprietor. Rather than parchment or vellum, the page seemed to be made of rough, pressed fibers, but that didn't stop the innkeep from charging him a ludicrous fee.

  He took the materials upstairs and drew the shape he'd seen on the cliffs. It resembled a hexagon, with bent flanges extending from three of the hexagon's outer points.

  The Keeper examined the drawing. "These were human bones?"

  "Possibly the ones he took from Cobb's Fort. They had markings on them, too. I wasn't close enough to make them out."

  "The name of the thing you wish to find. And directions for it to follow. But these are standard."

  "Meaning you can replicate them."

  She stared balefully. "If you brought one here, you would be tempted to turn it against the Mallish."

  "Yes," he admitted. "But I won't give in to that temptation. The Andrac are too dangerous. Even Gladdic doesn't have perfect control over them. If I tried to use one in war, I'd be afraid of it slaughtering my own people."

  "Then your idea is to bring one here—and try to kill it."

  "Between you, me, and Blays, I think we'll have the strength. If we can figure out how to be rid of them, we won't even need to convince the Small Senates to go to war. The citizens of Collen will be more than enough strength to boot Gladdic out of the basin."

  The Keeper folded her hands, gazing across the room, then shook her head. "This can't be done. Once it's here, we have no way to send it back. It's one thing to risk our own lives. But if we die fighting what we've summoned, we will have unleashed a new demon on the basin. One with no one holding back its reins."


  "If we fail, the basin's lost anyway."

  "That thought might be enough to salve your conscience. But I won't be a part of a plan that could unleash terror on my land."

  There was a firmness to her voice that suggested pressing her would only harden her opinion. Dante rubbed his temples. Would she have the same reservations if they traveled into Mallon and summoned the Andrac there? The trip would take several days on both ends—and they'd need to buy a mule for the Keeper to ride or it would take much longer than that—but until they had a solution to the demons, there was no hope of reclaiming the basin. Not unless Dante summoned every ethermancer in Narashtovik.

  He was still thinking on the problem when Cord banged into the room. "Stir your feet. The senate agrees to see us!"

  After the meeting they'd had that morning, Dante was significantly less cheery about their prospects than she was. But if they exhausted their options with the town senates, the Keeper might be more prone to try his ideas. They headed downstairs, rousted Blays and Naran from the bar, and crossed through the early evening to the shrine.

  The shrine's interior was an expansive natural cavern, with additional spaces carved into the walls for seating and prayer. Incense mingled with the sage of the burning shrubs used for light. A monk seated them in the main hall. A few minutes later, six men and women walked in behind them and took position on the chamber's small stage.

  The senate of Dog's Paw was run by a man named Serta. Like the traders in the inn, he looked Parthian, including his shaved head, but he wore the elegantly plain jacket favored by Colleners of importance. If he had an accent, Dante couldn't detect it.

  "You fought the Mallish," Serta said. "We're honored to have you."

  Dante inclined his head. "We did fight them—and we're a long way from done. But the Mallish aren't going to evict themselves. We need your help."

  To head off their fears at the pass, he gave a detailed recap of Gladdic's attack, stressing the point that Gladdic had been the one who'd summoned the Andrac, and furthermore, that Dante and Blays had been able to combat it.

  When Dante finished, Serta hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jacket. "I hear many things. But no answers to the demons."