by Kate Elliott
“What did you say?”
“You didn’t know?”
Without warning, a deep clanging resonated out of the earth, so full and heavy that the whole world seemed to vibrate to its call. Mai pressed her hands to the bench. The sound throbbed up through the earth and the stone and into her body. Into her belly. Into her womb.
Could it be true?
Of course it could be true! It was even likely. Probable. Expected.
Yet she could not catch her breath. She could not even think, not with all that noise.
The children’s chorus stammered into silence. A little voice began to wail in counterpoint to the shuddering bass roll of the bell.
Miravia rose, face flushed with something other than steam rising off a boiling cauldron. “There cries the Voice of the Walls. May the Hidden One protect us!”
The bell ceased ringing. The sudden, shocked silence lasted long enough for a breath to be drawn in. Then, on those wings, rose a clamor from all around, within the walls and without, as if every person in Olossi cried out at the same time. That roar was its own storm, battering the heavens.
“What does it mean?” Mai stammered.
“The Voice of the Wall is Olossi’s alarm bell. When he sings, any person outside the walls knows to retreat to the safety of the walls. Once a year on Festival First Day, we hear him. Today he cries in truth. There must have come news. Bad news.”
She looked down into Mai’s face, and such a look of pity transformed Miravia’s features that Mai began to weep. To think of Anji was to gasp in terror, so she must not think of him. She rose to grasp Miravia’s hands.
“How can we find out what happened? Will the council meet? I have to go there.”
“We can’t. It’s forbidden.”
“Look!” cried Priya, pointing at the sky.
Eagles.
There were too many to count in one glance, circling above Olossi and then, on unseen winds, soaring away.
Mai had never possessed a reckless temperament. Always she had said to Ti: “The price is not worth what you hope to gain.” But Anji had ridden out against impossible odds, because she had counseled the bold choice rather than the cautious one. He might be dead. He might never come back, and she would be alone, pregnant, abandoned in a foreign land, the very thing she had feared most when she left Kartu.
The sound of jangling chimes broke over them. The deep bell took up its tolling cry once again, a reverberation that seemed to crack out of the very roots of the earth. Its voice hammered Mai. Her hands were cold, and her chest had tightened until small shallow breaths were all she could manage.
After all those years tending her sanctuary so she might live with inner peace and no outward trouble, she could not accept waiting any longer.
“I must go to where the council meets. I will walk out those gates and make my way alone if I must, but I will go.”
Miravia stared at her. Tears rolled as if jostled loose by the clangor of the bell. “I wish I could say so, and do so,” she said in a voice so low Mai could scarcely hear it. “How I admire you! How I envy you!”
“If you can go to the prison, then why not to the council house?”
“To bring food to the prison and the healers’ house is all they allow me, and only because the laws of the Hidden One cannot be twisted to forbid it.”
“Well, then, dear one, I am sorry for it, if it makes you unhappy.”
Miravia was not one to cry. Mai saw by the way she clenched her jaw and sucked in a ragged breath that she was used to swallowing her griefs and troubles, as she did now, but the pain still sat deep in her heart.
“It is nothing, compared to what you face. Wait here. I’ll go find Eliar as quickly as I can. He’ll know what to do.”
“Does he know the law of the marketplace, in the Hundred?”
“Eliar? Surely he does, for you know, he must know it well in order to flout it. Yet I know it well, too. All the women of my people know it. It is one of our chief studies. Why?”
“I am a merchant, just as your people are.”
The grin brightened her face. She laughed. “Well, then, my dear friend, let me help you. For there is so little else I am allowed to do.”
Mai took her hands. “I’ll accept your aid gladly. I swear to you I will repay it one day.”
47
At dawn Joss rose with a light heart despite the rough ground he’d slept on and the terrible sights he had seen yesterday afternoon while flying Hornward along West Track. He was exhausted, aching, and still weak, but Scar’s presence heartened him as nothing else could. Women might come and go, please themselves and him while they were at it, and that was truly a fine thing, but as long as he lived, he knew that Scar would be his most faithful companion.
Indeed, the eagle had fretted, kept close, brought him a deer. This they had shared in the evening, Joss slicing off a portion to roast over a campfire, while the rest Scar dragged to one side.
In the morning, casting done, Scar bowed to him in greeting and came eagerly to the harness. They had not been aloft for long when the eagle cried a warning. Soon after, Joss saw the first distant eagle, and at once spotted another three, then five more. An entire flight approached out of the east, in a staggered formation with flanks spread wide. It was exceptional to see thirty eagles flying together. They were temperamental and territorial beasts, and on the whole disliked their compatriots. But under the control of their reeves, they would endure most anything. It was part of the magic bred into them in ancient days.
Strung out, of course, they also covered a great deal of ground, seeing most everything that moved over many mey. Joss cast a prayer to the winds, and found a draft on which Scar could rise, the better to allow them a chance at outrunning the flight. But a reeve has good reason to gain familiarity with the creatures he lives beside. He recognized, quickly enough, Volias’s sleek and gorgeous Trouble. Gliding down, he and Scar found open ground and landed.
On his tail, Volias came to earth with a pair of reeves flanking him. One was Pari, the Argent Hall reeve. The other was Kesta, young, muscular, shapely and, of course, child of the Fire Mother as he was, so therefore taboo.
“You look like you’ve been dragged through the hells,” said the Snake as he sauntered forward.
“You look pleased to think it might be so.”
“Only had I been there to enjoy watching you suffer. What happened? Should I bring the others down? Turn them around?”
“By no means. You can’t imagine how glad I am to see you.”
Volias laughed. “That bad, eh?” He was a bastard, but he knew his duty.
“How is Peddo?”
“He’ll live.” Volias scanned the sky, then pointed toward Pari. “The Commander wasn’t minded to do anything after Peddo and I got back. She said, let you run on the winds of your nightmares and come back when you’d shed yourself of them. But then this boy arrived at Clan Hall and told us a tale I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen Horn Hall. As it was, the Commander was given strong reason to believe his outrageous tale might be true. So she sent me in command of the Third Flight, to bring what aid you might ask for.”
“I applaud the Commander’s wisdom. Why did she only send one flight?”
“There’s a second flight following behind this one,” said Volias.
Kesta broke in. “Why did she send any? Why in the hells are we wasting our time out here?” Her glare was almost as intimidating at her eagle’s. “We should turn around and go back right away. In case you hadn’t heard,” she added with drawling scorn, “High Haldia’s walls were breached, and the city was burned. Iron Hall’s reeves fled to their hall, unable to stop it. Now there’s an army of about ten companies—six thousand men!—marching seaward down the Istri Walk. Marching on Toskala. I have seen such things . . . and that we abandoned the countryfolk of Haldia to come stooping after this hare!” Her fury was like steam, almost visible rising off her.
“You’ll see those same things here
in the south, alas. For there’s an army not more than two days out of Olossi, closing fast. About five companies, we estimate. Burning and slaughtering as they march. Desolation in their wake.”
Volias shook his head. “Two armies, hidden from us for this long. How can we have been so blind?”
“Was there news from Horn Hall?” Joss asked.
Their look was his answer.
Pari had stayed back by his eagle, whose head feathers were flared and wings half opened. An Argent Hall eagle would not feel easy in the proximity of so many unknown raptors.
“He’s handling him well,” remarked Joss.
Kesta smiled wickedly. “He’s not bad. A little young, but that fault improves with time.”
“Unlike you,” said Volias to Joss, because he could not stop jabbing. “So what are we to do? Two flights of reeves can do nothing against an army of three thousand. Iron Hall was helpless at High Haldia. An army won’t submit to arrest.”
“I wish they were all lost in the hells and eaten alive by rats!” said Kesta, tossing her head back.
“Best we meet up with Captain Anji.”
“Who is Captain Anji?” demanded Kesta. “What kind of name is that?”
“An outlander’s name. He’s our ally, and we’re fortunate to have him. Indeed, if he survived the night, he’ll be happy to see us sooner than he expected. We thought it would take me days to fly to Clan Hall, persuade the Commander, roust a flight, and return here.”
“There’s one other thing,” added Volias. “This Argent Hall marshal who calls himself Yordenas? The Commander had us hunt in the records. There was mention of a reeve called Yordenas. He was a young man newly come to Iron Hall. He was killed about ten years ago, while trying to stop a skulk of bandits as they were beating and raping and robbing in an isolated village up in the high valleys. The reeve’s eagle was mutilated and left for dead, and the man’s clothes were found, soaked in blood. But they never found his body.”
“So we don’t know he was killed.”
“In the testimony of the villagers, those who survived, they stated quite clearly that he was killed. That he died in the arms of a woman who’d given her apprenticeship to the Lady. She’d seen death before. The reeve who took her testimony felt she knew what she was talking about.”
“What happened to the body, then?”
“That’s the mystery. It vanished soon after. No one could say how.”
THE FLIGHTS FLEW wide of the road, so as not to be spotted, but Joss sent Volias and Kesta to shadow West Track. He’d taken his chances yesterday flying over to observe the army. He didn’t want to be spotted, knowing it necessary that Argent Hall and their allies believe, for the time being, that he was dead. But yesterday he had needed to see, and today so did these two, so they could understand as well as he did what they were up against.
He had never in his life seen quite so many people on the move all at the same time. They marched in orderly groups, ranked by cohorts. Their weapons gleamed; blacksmiths had been working for years to produce that supply of swords, spears, halberds, axes, and arrows. Their wagons trundled along, pulled by draft animals. Behind them, villages lay emptied. The road stretched, deserted, before and behind the army’s killing path. He had glimpsed a handful of people in the woodland cover, scrambling to hide when they saw the eagle’s shadow: these might be outriders and foragers, or they might be innocent villagers trying to hide from the wolves. He had seen fresh mounds of dirt heaped over corpses, an act meant to demoralize and terrify the country folk, since it was truly an abomination to bury what should be left to the Lady’s acolytes to purify and the Four Mothers to gather into their wombs.
Worse even than all this was the knowledge that the horror was just beginning, if they could find no way to stop it. No adult in living memory had seen an army gathered, although armies were spoken of in the old tales of the civil wars that had almost torn apart the Hundred. To think there were two such armies made him want to scream.
Midday came a signal flashed through the flights by flags. Joss had told Volias what to look for, and they had found it. He shifted the flights northward to move out over the road and the river plain, while he flew in over West Track. There, on the road below, marched a band of some two hundred mounted soldiers, all in black.
The Qin soldiers moved at a speed Joss could hardly credit, but they switched off between horses, and all of them—men and horses alike—had a stubborn toughness that was impressive and even disturbing. Joss took Volias and Kesta down with him and left the rest aloft, as it took less energy for the eagles to circle high overhead, rising on drafts and gliding back down to repeat the cycle, than for all to land and take off again. Anyway, they were safer in the air. The army was at least a day’s march behind them by now, but there would still be scouts and outriders ranging along the land and sneaking through the woods.
They landed a short ways out ahead of the Qin. Joss left Scar off the road and clambered up onto its surface. Where the Qin scouts hid he could not tell, but they got their message back to the company somehow, because a short while later Anji came galloping up in front of his troop with six companions, including Chief Tuvi and his usual dour guardsmen, Sengel and Toughid.
The captain dismounted and strode to Joss, then grasped his arm, hand to elbow, and grinned with genuine pleasure. “Well met. What news do you bring me?”
“These are Volias and Kesta, reeves out of Clan Hall. They’ve brought two flights, sixty in all. You can see some of them.”
Anji shaded his eyes with a hand and surveyed the sky.
Joss said, “The rest are spread out to oversee the land. What of your task?”
The captain dropped his hand. Dried blood spattered the back of his fingers. “The ambush succeeded. They were lax, and lazy, accustomed to easy pickings. I myself would always put my best soldiers in my strike force, and if that is so, then this army is strong only in numbers. However, I can’t be sure their generals act as I would.”
“So the strike force is wiped out.”
“Some escaped. That was to be expected. But as a unified force, they are broken. How far behind is the army? How large is it?”
“A day’s march behind. The Devouring woman had it right. About three thousand fighting men, formed into cohorts.”
Anji nodded at Volias and Kesta, to invite their attention and input. “So, it is as we discussed when the council got the news and came to us begging for our aid. We’ve accomplished the one commission, the one we agreed with the Greater Houses through Master lad.”
“What of the greater battle?” Joss asked.
“There are far too many of them for us to hope for a victory in the open field. With the strike force destroyed, we have three choices. We can retreat to Olossi, where the council should already be calling in the townsfolk and preparing for a siege. We can run entirely, and abandon both city and land to the invaders. We can stay outside the walls and harass the army when it invests Olossi with a siege, as we must expect it will do. If the latter course, then we would hope eventually to wear them down, starve them, deny them battle, and make it dangerous for them to move about the land to forage and raid in small bands. To carry out this plan, we must ourselves disperse into bands so we can supply ourselves and appear to be everywhere at once. They must never be able to find and pin us down. But for this choice to work, we must have the advantage of speed and sight. We must be able to cut off all messages running between the army and Argent Hall, and between the army and whatever allies they hold in the north. Otherwise, we have nothing they do not already possess, and, as well, the reeves who cooperate with them can seek out and discover us as we move across the land.”
Kesta was devouring the captain with her gaze, listening as if each utterance was a jewel that must be caught. She seemed smitten.
Joss said, “I’ve seen no reeves besides our own today. How did the other part of the plan go? What happened to the reeve from Argent Hall?”
His words cut like
an axe. There was a pause, as though he had said something shocking. A horse snorted. A hawk skimmed overhead and shied off, spotting the eagles.
Then all seven of the Qin—stolid, serious men—laughed until they wept.
When he was done, Anji wiped tears from his face. “Aui! That woman is dangerous. She knows more than one way to kill a man.”
“She murdered the reeve?”
“No. But he got all tied up in his honor.”
Chief Tuvi snorted, and they all chortled again.
Anji finally found his voice. “He wasn’t able to alert Argent Hall. But my own tailmen ran into a man who rode a horse that had wings, and could fly. This man they shot with many arrows, and a javelin, yet he did not fall. My tailmen do not exaggerate. What do you make of it?”
“There are no winged horses,” said Kesta. “It’s a tale for children.”
“What tale?” asked Anji. “For I can tell you, my men were shocked at the sight of a winged horse. Of a man who would not fall no matter how many arrows he had in him.”
Kesta said, “The tale is a simple one. The gods brought forth the Guardians to bring justice to the land. They gave them seven gifts, and departed. After that, the Guardians acted as judges at the assizes. But it’s only a story. There are no Guardians.”
“It’s not a story,” said Joss. “Many people’s grandparents remembered seeing a Guardian when they were children.”
“A little lad may see all manner of things in shadows and in wishful dreams,” retorted Kesta. “What do you think, Volias?”
Yet Volias, who never on any account liked to agree with Joss, remained thoughtful. “I think the testimony of this man’s soldiers must be taken into account. They aren’t the only rumors I’ve heard in recent months.”
“When folk are frightened, they’ll see and say anything,” objected Kesta. “Not that I blame them. But that doesn’t mean what they say and see are true things. Only that they’re frightened.”
Joss shook his head. “Zubaidit saw winged horses, too, when she was in the enemy’s camp. So she reported to me, when we met in Olossi. But she saw no Guardians.”
