by Kevin Hearne
“Roofs are the best, am I right?”
“They are,” he agrees, and when he looks at me he has tears on his cheeks. “Thank you, Hanima. When you found me there staring at the shreds of my bedroll, I was thinking I wouldn’t be around much longer. I think you saved my life.”
“I owe you. You saved me a few times.”
“Well, we have to look out for each other, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Hey, look out,” Khamen says, and rips a brutal beast of a fart before giggling at our cries of dismay. Adithi and I are quick to wish them a good night.
* * *
—
“Heading farther west,” Fintan said as he prepared to take his next seeming, “let’s check in with Fornish ambassador Mai Bet Ken.”
I wasn’t in a dungeon this time, so I finally got to see what she looked like. She was petite, like all the Fornish were, pale skinned and dark haired, and she had done something flippity and twirly with her hair so that it rose on top of her head. I know there are proper terms for such styles and some of them contain cultural significance, but I am not sophisticated in such matters. But I noticed that she had pinned flowers in her hair and it was quite pretty. And unlike many of the Fornish, who prefer vests on top of shirts, she had a full long-sleeved silk robe on, very formal-looking, with leaf and vine patterns in varying shades of green. It was beautiful work, and I must remember to ask which clans concern themselves with silk production.
Mai’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried to grapple with new challenges.
During the night, in some loathsome unwashed warren where alcohol and other vices are sold, one of Hennedigha’s so-called officers killed a Fornish citizen, right before the viceroy and the army are to depart for Talala Fouz. He strode out of there unmolested, despite multiple eyewitness reports that the Fornish man was unarmed and had tried to apologize for accidentally bumping into the officer. That news greets me with my morning tea. And then the mail arrives and it wilts all my hopes.
My request, sent weeks ago, was duly considered in the sway, and while some clans backed it, the Black Jaguars and Blue Moths denied my motion to increase our diplomatic corps in Ghurana Nent. They think our current staffing is sufficient and Forn can’t afford the expenditure when the Hathrim are so unruly and there’s a possible threat building on the east coast, as well as massive aid flowing to Brynlön and Rael in the wake of the Bone Giant invasion.
I am instead instructed to get what concessions I can for the Fornish contribution to defending Ghurana Nent from Gorin Mogen. The clans want the right to send settlers and merchants to Baghra Khek, since Fornish blood helped secure it. So I must request an emergency meeting with the viceroy on two counts.
While waiting, I renew my pleas to my clan to expand the tea business into all Nentian cities that can double as intelligence outposts, outlining a plan that should allow us to profit on multiple fronts.
I’m ushered in near the end of the business day. The viceroy looks tired and irritable and he wrinkles his nose at my customary cloud of floral spritzes. Tactician Hennedigha is still standing behind him, indefatigable, ready to grunt at the viceroy’s command.
“What is the emergency?” Lohmet demands, without preamble or politeness.
“Last night a lieutenant in Tactician Hennedigha’s army murdered an unarmed Fornish citizen in front of multiple eyewitnesses. We want him cashiered and imprisoned for his crime. It is only justice.”
The viceroy turns his head to regard the tactician. “Have you heard of this?” Hennedigha gives a tiny shake of his head and the viceroy swings his sneer back to me. “What’s the lieutenant’s name?”
“Ranoush Mukhab.” In response to this, Hennedigha grunts to get Lohmet’s attention and then shakes his head strongly. “I’m sorry, Tactician, I can’t interpret your body language. Are you denying that is his name, or are you trying to communicate something else? Perhaps you could use words.”
Both men glare at me in silence for daring to suggest the tactician speak clearly. But Hennedigha eventually complies. “Lieutenant Mukhab is guiltless.”
“How can you know that unless you were there? People who were there state unequivocally he was at fault. He was the aggressor, not the defender. He attacked an unarmed man with a knife.”
“He will not be cashiered or imprisoned.”
“So Fornish citizens can be casually murdered by Lieutenant Mukhab, Viceroy? Is that what I’m hearing? Our best and blessed fought and died on your behalf at the Godsteeth, making it unnecessary for the lieutenant to put himself in harm’s way and quite probably saving his life, and now he can kill us at his whim?”
The viceroy winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s step back for a moment.”
“The Fornish handed you that grand victory that’s allowing you to march into Talala Fouz to claim the throne with a full-strength army! We did that to protect the Canopy, and I will remind you now that every Fornish citizen is a part of the Canopy. An officer in your military has attacked and killed an unarmed citizen of the Canopy. Someone has to face the consequences. It should be the lieutenant.”
“No,” Hennedigha said, which I had expected, and I fired back immediately.
“Are you trying to start a war with Forn, Tactician?”
“What? No, no, he isn’t,” says Lohmet, shooting a quelling look at his military leader. I wonder how much control he really has over Hennedigha. “Look, we just now heard of this, and thank you, Ambassador, for bringing it to our attention. Allow us time to investigate the matter.”
“How much time? Because the lieutenant is due to set sail with you tomorrow, isn’t that right? Away from witnesses, away from punishment, under the protective wing of your tactician? I assure you we will not drop this or forget about it, and any delay in justice will erode our relationship.”
“I understand. We will move as swiftly as possible to resolve this, and I hope to contact you later this evening.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you. There is one other matter.”
“What is it?”
“The Black Jaguars, speaking on behalf of all the clans in the sway, wish to know what plans you have for that city site so recently liberated by our forces, and if those plans include settlement, they ask for permission to send settlers and merchants there to help develop it into a proper port, which would benefit both our nations greatly.”
“Of course, of course,” the viceroy says. This costs him nothing, so it’s easily granted, and he thinks he’s done me a favor now. “We will allow it to be settled, but it will not be called by the name the Hathrim gave it. It will have its own viceroy and we will keep you informed. Is that all?”
“That is all. We simply require swift justice for our murdered citizen.”
The tactician swells as if taking breath to grunt again, but Lohmet cuts him off. “Hennedigha—everyone—please give us the room for a while. I have something else to discuss with the ambassador, in private.”
Everyone visible shuffles out, Hennedigha departing with a sullen glare, but I know that there are others watching, bodyguards hidden behind doors in the walls.
When we are supposedly alone, Lohmet beckons me even closer and speaks in low tones to thwart those who might be listening.
“Get me a Brynt hygienist and I’ll throw that lieutenant in jail,” he says. “Maybe Hennedigha too, if that’ll make you happy.”
“What will make me happy is you upholding the law and punishing the lieutenant without trying to extort additional favors from me. Forn has already done you a favor that’s paved your way to the throne, so you owe us. And, besides, Viceroy, you know that producing a hygienist is not in my power. You must make your appeal to the pelenaut of Brynlön.”
“I will, of course. But your appeal a
dded to it might carry some extra weight.”
“Very well. I’ll make the appeal,” I tell him, “but I’d better see justice today. Your man has wronged us, and we’ve done nothing but help you. If you find some excuse to let the lieutenant get away with murder, our relationship will no longer be so friendly.”
“You haven’t had time to discuss this with the clans, Ambassador Ken. You’re speaking very boldly on your own, throwing around words like war.”
Ah, so that is what the private meeting is really about. He wants to see if I’ll wilt when he accuses me of going rogue. He never does the right thing for others, only what’s right for him, and what’s right for him at the moment is to keep his tactician happy in advance of his trip to the capital. If he can find a way to weasel out of this, he will, and he thinks I’m acting out of character and that might be cause to dismiss the matter. It is true he’s never seen me so assertive, but until now I’ve had no cause to behave this way. I let my voice drop and turn cold as nightshade.
“I’m confident that I’m in the right and that the clans will see it the same way I do. My report of the incident is already on its way home, together with the remedy I’m demanding. I don’t know why Hennedigha wants to protect the lieutenant so badly, but make no mistake, Viceroy: You have a serious incident on your hands. I’d like my next report to say that the matter is resolved to our satisfaction and Ghurana Nent is a nation of laws. Because if it is a nation of warlords, we can resolve it a different way. You saw what our greensleeve did to the warlord Gorin Mogen.”
His eye twitches and the sweats have begun to drip down his forehead, but he’s watching me closely for signs that I’m bluffing. I’m not. If he gets away with this, what kind of future will there be in this country? How many more such deaths will be waved away, while the corrupt protect one another and apply laws only to those who threaten them?
“I should add that the eyewitnesses, including the business owner, are safe at my embassy,” I say. “In case Hennedigha is thinking he can make them disappear.”
That part is a bluff, but unlike everything else I’ve said, it convinces Lohmet that I’m serious.
He leans back and nods once. “Thank you, Ambassador. You’ll hear from me soon.”
I return the curt nod and spin on my heel. It is indeed a dangerous game I’m playing, but I don’t see much of an option except to play it out. I need to get the eyewitnesses protected and keep everyone on high alert through the night. We can’t really stop them if they want to come for us, but they can’t do it without starting a war. I’m fairly certain that I’ve got them. And I’m absolutely certain that I won’t lift a finger to help the viceroy get a hygienist.
* * *
—
I was grinning when the bard dispelled the seeming of the Fornish ambassador. The viceroy was a clever man, but he clearly did not have the true measure of his opposition.
“We’ll turn to Olet Kanek next, who has a hard road ahead of her—especially since the road does not actually exist yet.”
After we left Ghuli Rakhan behind, I kind of missed Viceroy Naren Khusharas. He was manic and under tremendous pressure, but he was still loyal to his word and kept a wry sense of humor about things. When the final carts arrived and we were cleared to leave, a soldier sought me out and led me to the rearmost carts, pulled by wart oxen—a duty, I was told, he must perform before we departed.
“I’m sorry about the inconvenience, but I’m under strict orders from the viceroy.”
“Understood. What am I to do?”
“Stand there while I pull back this tarp.” The soldier untied the ropes locking down the tarp of the last wagon and pulled it off, to reveal some unmarked crates. He then produced an envelope from his cloak, with my name scrawled on it. The wax seal on the back proclaimed it to be from the viceroy.
“Can you open this for me, please?” I asked him. “My fingers are too big, and I’d just mangle it.” Tiny human letters were cute but somewhat diffcult for me to handle.
“Oh. Certainly.” He slit it open expertly, unfolded the note inside without looking at it, and handed it over.
It wasn’t a formal letter at all. It was as informal as could be, in fact. It read:
Behold: a fucking ton of dried meat, as ordered by the late King Kalaad.
Be safe, Olet, and send me good news as soon as you can.
Do let me know what the new city is to be called. I leave that up to you, but remember that you owe me a ton.
—Naren
I chuckled and grinned at the soldier. “Message received. Please tell the viceroy I will do as he asks, and give him my thanks.”
And then we needed to begin the long, hard work of blazing a trail without actually setting anything ablaze.
We did have experienced lumberjacks among our people; they had already done such work on the slopes of the Godsteeth under Gorin Mogen. These crews felled trees so that they would fall forward, pointing the way, and then we had road crews preparing a rough trail for the many carts to follow, removing stumps and boulders as necessary. Behind these we had fire crews chopping off branches and boughs that we’d use for firewood in that evening’s camp. These were mostly composed of Nentian recruits, and La Mastik and I worked among them, making sure everything was prepared for the vanguard of the carts.
Abhi and Fintan roamed far ahead, scouting the trail and marking trees to be felled. They also had some Nentian hunters with them, who killed and gutted whatever was nearby and left the carcasses behind on the trail for the train to find and prep for that evening’s dinner, allowing us to leave our stores alone and subsist on the bounty of the Gravewood. The plaguebringer assured us that the entire train would be protected from predators, and while I heard them from time to time scurrying in the trees, rustling in the undergrowth, or chirping above us, I never saw anything, much less witnessed an attack. He was as good as his word.
But I was disheartened in one regard: Everyone kept looking to me to lead. And that was not what I wanted at all.
Maybe it was just because I was the tallest damn thing in the forest apart from the trees. But I suspected it was because I was a firelord and the daughter of Winthir Kanek, and that didn’t appeal to me at all. It meant that all the people of Gorin Mogen regarded me as their unofficial hearthfire, even though I’d explicitly told them I was no such thing. And it meant the Nentians were too scared of me and the other Hathrim to offer up their ideas. I made them feel powerless with my kenning and my stature.
I made the same offer to our new Nentians as I had to the Hathrim earlier: If they wanted to lead, all they had to do was ask to be heard and the Raelech bard would use his kenning to spread their voices to the entire assembly. But no one took me up on the offer. Which meant, in such a void, that people kept looking to me to make decisions.
After a week of us traveling north with no one stepping up, I broached the subject with La Mastik, whose counsel I treasure and whose character I admire. Since we had taken on new people of differing faiths, she had taken to conducting nightly prayers of various denominations, all cast widely by the bard so that everyone could hear. She first conducted Thurik’s rites for the Hathrim once the night’s fires were lit, and then she led the Nentians in rites for Kalaad, and then she deferred to the bard to conduct rites for the triple goddess, though he never did so since a quick poll revealed he was the only follower of that faith. I did not expect La Mastik to step outside the hearth of Thurik’s Flame and work with others like that, but it was perfectly in tune with what I wished for our future: a community of different people and backgrounds living in harmony together.
“Mirana,” I said, “why doesn’t anyone want to lead us?”
“Including yourself?”
“Yes, including me.”
“I think it is simply that we are walking into the unknown
and no one wishes to be the person who makes the first misstep.”
I grunted and chewed on that mentally for a while before responding. “We are in such an alien place. In Hathrir, power equaled prestige, so everyone sought it. And now we are in a different land, and because of that it seems our old culture is already gone. I am offering power, and nobody wants a slice of it.”
La Mastik laughed at me. “It is not because we are in a different land. It is because the kind of people willing to stride into the unknown are of a certain character. They are focused on a vision of security for themselves and their families and living without friction with their neighbors. They are not the sort of people who want to run any business but their own.”
That so perfectly encapsulated what I was feeling that I broke into a smile. “Ha! So leading is the one job they don’t want?”
“That’s right. In all likelihood they’d rather dig a latrine than be put in a position of responsibility.”
“I would so love to dig a latrine right now.”
“I know, Olet. I know. Perhaps you can push them into seeking leadership by offering positions other than the main one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something besides the equivalent of a hearthfire. Something that involves responsibility, but not all of it. Give them cover, in other words, so they do not feel that they are stepping naked into a den of sand badgers.”
“You mean like a committee?”
“That is a dirty, dirty word, my friend. I think you should call it a council. It has more dignity.”
“Like the Triune Council of Rael?”
“Yes, but not a Triune. More would be better. Spread the responsibility. Everyone has more cover that way.”
That gave me much to think on, and that evening, once the fires had been lit and Mirana had performed the evening rites and prayers with her scalp lit on fire in the traditional way, I asked the Raelech bard to let me address the train.
