"The trader?"
"A Koretian by the name of Brendon." The subcaptain was still running his eyes over me, obviously trying to ascertain both my land loyalty and my rank. "I met him at the army headquarters; our supply-keeper buys goods through him regularly. I got to talking—" He stopped, and then suddenly gave a sheepish grin that made him look very young. "I got to shouting, actually, about all the ways in which the Koretians are ruining this land. I thought he was going to challenge me to a duel for a while there. Then he suddenly laughed and said that the person I should be speaking to was John the trader – that John was an expert on such matters and could tell me whether my ideas had any worth."
Standing a few feet behind me, Ursula said in Koretian, "Invite him in, Andrew. John always listens to anyone who is troubled with a problem. He wouldn't want us to send the soldier away."
Seeing the subcaptain's blank expression as Ursula spoke, I thought to myself that part of this land's troubles might come from the governor's army officials not knowing the native tongue. I raised my hand in the free-man's greeting and said, "My name is Andrew, and this is Ursula. You are welcome to come in if you would like to wait a while for John. I am not sure how long he will be."
I had made the free-man's greeting without thinking; here in Koretia, even the most snobbish nobleman would hesitate before rejecting such a greeting from a lesser free-man. Already I had forgotten what it was like in my adopted land, and I was momentarily puzzled as the subcaptain began to raise his hand, and then let it fall. I opened my mouth before closing it quickly again. Even in Emor, the question of my rank had never been fully settled, so there was no way I could advise him on this matter.
The subcaptain covered his own confusion by saying as rapidly as he could while I closed the door, "I am Gladius, Subcaptain of the Koretian Army under Captain Malise, lately of the Garrison of Valouse."
Ursula's smile dropped from her face like a leaf torn from its branch by a chill winter wind. The subcaptain noticed this and hesitated on the point of sitting down. I said dryly, "Then you are fortunate that Brendon chose not to challenge you; he is lately of Valouse as well. Please be seated, Subcaptain."
Gladius's gaze remained on Ursula, who had turned away to busy herself with the kitchen items at the far end of the room. "Yes, that was where our argument began. He had only the town dwellers' perspective on what happened; I had only the soldiers' perspective. I suppose that we both came to a better understanding by the end of our conversation. But he was unable to change my mind on one belief: that the Koretians don't have the capacity to rule themselves."
I glanced over at Ursula, who was on her knees digging into the food box, seemingly oblivious to what was being said. "That has been our view for many years," I said. "I fail to see why Brendon would be surprised to hear this from yet another Emorian."
The phrasing of my reply reassured the subcaptain. He lowered his voice and said in a conspiratorial tone, "Yes, but why are the Koretians incapable of ruling themselves? That is the important question. The people of this land are intelligent and brave and hard-working – any fool who has been stationed here more than a year can see that. And there is no truth to the idea that the Koretians are too violent and lawless to keep civil war from breaking out if we left. That may have been the case in the past, but they have learned since then how to rule their passions through use of the law. If the Emorians disappeared tomorrow, the Koretians would still be clamoring to use the courts."
"So what is the problem?" I asked, leaning over the table so that I could hear better Gladius's low voice.
"Who would be High Judge? That is the real problem." Gladius leaned back, satisfied at having brought the first part of his argument to a close. I could imagine him as a court official, carefully delineating the sections of a trial.
Raising his voice to be heard over the clatter of carts making their way home from the closing market, Gladius said, "Let me tell you what happened at Valouse. After that Koretian was murdered a couple of weeks ago – you know all about that, of course? – we had near-riots for three nights in a row, what with Koretians fighting one another over what had happened. We kept having to arrest people, and the town court was clogged with prisoners – not to mention the fact that many soldiers were wounded while making the arrests. Finally, my captain, who is a very wise man, went to the town councilmen and told them that either the Koretians could arrest and try their own prisoners, or the next time a riot occurred, he would treat it as an act of war and would have his troops cut down the offenders on the spot. So what do you think the Koretians did?"
"Leapt with excitement at the chance to have their own court system, I should think," I said, seeing that this was the answer expected of me.
"Of course they did! This is what they have been claiming all along, that they could rule themselves better than we could. Naturally, if that had been true, we would have let them do so long ago. The Koretian courts ought really to be run by Koretians, the Koretian army by Koretians, and so on – that is how the Chara usually rules his dominions. But every time the governor starts making appointments like that, some trouble arises: a Koretian captain refuses to fight in battle unless his units are given a god's blessing, or a Koretian judge transfers a case over to a priest, of all people. Religion always destroys the Koretians' chance to govern themselves."
The sun was beginning to draw its light away from the window. I shifted myself so as to remain in its warmth. "Is that what happened in Valouse?"
Gladius shook his head. "No, we were plagued with a different problem there. Everyone knows of the Koretians' odd ideas about religion, but nobody has thought about the fact that the Koretians have not ruled themselves for fifteen years. They have no knowledge of what it means to rule rather than be ruled. They—"
He checked himself, looked over at Ursula, who was wiping some dishes clean, and lowered his voice again. "Here is what happened in Valouse. First, the town council appointed one of the town dwellers to be the Koretians' town judge. By a miracle, they picked a good man: a ground-poor peasant, but one who had been a Koretian council lord in the old days. These days, he lives by begging, as far as I can tell. I asked him once what happened to his fortune, and he laughed and said that he gave it all away because he did not want the governor thinking he was one of the Jackal's thieves. He is full of odd statements like that, but is otherwise a sound man, and he made a wise judge. But then he had to leave town after several days on business, so the town council appointed a new judge. That one lasted two days, and then he quit. The next one lasted three days, and he quit. Meanwhile, matters were growing worse and worse in town, until the riots finally came, and the captain did as he promised, and now every Koretian says that we are to blame for what happened."
The floor beneath us was beginning to turn ruby-colored under the evening sun. For the first time I noticed that the soldier's dusky tunic had been gashed around his midriff and then sewn up again. A stubborn black stain remained around the edge of this gash, and the tunic bulged with the outlines of what I guessed to be a hidden bandage.
"Why did the Koretian judges quit?" I asked.
"Have you ever been a judge? I have – I was judge of the army court at Valouse, and I had to hand judgment down upon my own men on more than one occasion. Until you have held an appointment like that, you have no idea how hard it is to try your own people and endure their hatred and ridicule if you decide that they deserve punishment. It is easy enough for the Koretians to say that they could do better than the Emorian judges, but once they were given the opportunity, they could not bear the burden that it entails."
An image drifted into my mind of Peter, standing under flickering torchlight with dark circles under his eyes, struggling to retain the dispassionate face of the Chara and judge me without favor. And I remembered how I had been sick with cold loathing at what he was doing and had refused to help him in his lonely task.
"It is a hard role to play," I murmured.
"It is a ve
ry hard role, especially that of High Judge. Have you ever read the passage in the law books on the burdens of the Chara? It is enough to make you weep. But someone has to take on the duty, and not a single man in this land exists who has the courage to do so, except maybe—"
He stopped. Those who have worked in the courts know how to use a dramatic pause to their advantage. I noticed that Ursula had been wiping the same plate for several minutes. As for myself, I was quite content to offer the requested prompt. "Who, then?"
The subcaptain suddenly grinned again. "This is the point at which that trader Brendon laughed, and I cannot blame him. I would have laughed too if any Emorian had suggested this to me. But I have thought this through a lot, and I believe that the only man in this land who knows how to be High Judge is the Jackal."
Ursula began moving again, placing the dishes back into a pile, perhaps because it was growing too dim to see them well. I said, "Yes, I imagine your suggestion would cause great mirth among the soldiers. What made you decide this?"
"Well . . ." Gladius leaned forward and lowered his voice again. "I and a few other army officials in Valouse were granted access to a report about how the Jackal's murder took place. I am not permitted to tell you what the report said, but it is a lot like the other stories that have circulated about how the Jackal kills his victims. You have undoubtedly heard a few of those – we all have. Most of my fellow soldiers have no idea what to make of the strange ritual that the Jackal does through whenever he kills a man. The most common explanation is that it is some sort of forbidden religious rite. But what it sounds like to me is a trial."
"A trial . . ." I said slowly, my thoughts going back beyond the episode at Valouse to an incident in my childhood. "You mean a trial by Emorian law, I take it."
Gladius nodded enthusiastically. "You have the judge, the witnesses' evidence for both sides, everything that you would find in an Emorian court. I cannot imagine what gave the Jackal the idea of trying his prisoners in the Emorian manner, but it says something about the man that, even in running a rebellion, he would try to give his enemies some sort of justice. And it says even more, I think, that he would judge one of his own people, as he evidently did in Valouse. It means that he is willing to bear the burden of punishing those who are under his care. That is the sort of man who should be Koretia's High Judge."
Having reached the climax of his argument, he stopped uncertainly as Ursula appeared at his side and placed a cup of wine before him. He looked from the cup to her smiling face and said, in very bad Koretian, "Thank you, madam."
"You are welcome, sir," Ursula replied in equally bad Emorian. "Would like you food also? Are hungry?"
The watchman's call drifted in through the window. Gladius shook his head and drained his cup before rising. "I need to get back to my men," he said to me in Emorian. "I am trying to keep them busy in order to keep them from wandering out into the city and pick fights with the city dwellers. Tell me, sir – do you live in the city, or are you just here on business?"
"I am here on business; my home is Emor."
"Well, then . . ." Gladius, reaching the door I had opened for him, looked over his shoulder at Ursula, who was taking the cup to the back of the room. Looking back at me, he said, "If this trader John is your blood brother, then I suppose that you consider blood-kin ties to be as important as any Koretian does. I am indebted to you for listening to me spout out my theories; now I will be able to keep my mind clear for my work. If your blood brother and his wife should need anything—" He stopped, and then said in a lower voice, "I cannot promise anything, but if there should be a riot, they can go to the army headquarters and use my name to receive entrance. That might save them from the worst."
I leaned against the door. "Subcaptain, if more men like you were stationed in Koretia, I doubt there would be any riots."
Gladius smiled, but said seriously, "I am not as sure about that as you. These Koretians have their own ways of doing things, and I am beginning to doubt that we will ever be able to civilize them to Emorian ways, not in any complete manner. To continue trying to do so might be as unwise as trying to tame a wild dog."
"Or a wild jackal?" I said.
Gladius laughed. "I have never heard of a tame jackal. I respect the rebel-leader, but on my honor as a free-man, each time I hear a new tale about the Jackal, I have to go read a few Emorian laws to purge myself of this land's savage ways. I suppose that only someone who grew up in Koretia could ever be completely at home here." Then he took a second look at me, stopped in confusion, began to give me the free-man's greeting in farewell, stopped again, and finally turned and walked rapidly away.
I leaned against the doorway, feeling the warmth of the evening lulling me to sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was not fire this time. It was darkness deeper than I had ever known. The silence beckoned to me like the whisper of a lover; the blackness caressed me with its hands. No fire here, no blood, no pain – just a serene peace with no price. No price at all except—
It entered the edge of the darkness like a ripple spreading over dark water. At first I tried to ignore it, to concentrate my thoughts on the stillness of the remaining dark. Then I identified the sound: a young woman was crying.
Painfully, like a swimmer rising from the depths, I pulled myself out of my utter-black shelter and lay for a moment, remembering where I was. Then I rose from the bed and pulled back the curtain to the alcove.
The house was now dark with night, but a hearth-fire still scattered a red glow upon the main room. Ursula was standing in front of that fire with her hand stretched forward to touch a mask. She was speaking softly to the mask, and there were sparks of light on her face where the tears had travelled.
She saw me immediately and jerked away, so that the mask fell to the floor, nearly landing in the fire. I walked over and picked up the Jackal's mask, replacing it on its hook as Ursula watched silently.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you," I said. "I suppose that you and John aren't the only ones in this land praying for peace tonight."
"I suppose not," Ursula said in an unsteady voice, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. I wondered whether she expected me to take her into my arms and comfort her.
I turned away and walked over to the window. Pulling back the shutter a crack, I stared out at the street. It was lamp-lit under the shine of the war moon, which was high in the sky.
"What time is it?" I asked. "I didn't mean to sleep so long."
"The watchman called the midnight a little while ago," Ursula replied, going over to pull a twig broom from the corner. "Do you see anything?"
I shook my head and barred the window-shutter once more against intruders. "The city gates will have closed by now. John must have decided to spend the night at the priests' house."
"John is like that," Ursula said, pausing in her sweeping to lean her cheek against the handle of the tall broom. "One time he went to the priests' house for what he said would be an hour, and he ended up spending a week there. I'm used to being alone anyway, since his work takes him away so often."
"He doesn't want you left alone tonight." I considered Ursula as she guided a small pile of dirt toward the edge of the room. We had spent the evening discussing the Chara's palace, and Ursula had plied me with questions about life at my home. I had told her of the inner garden, the Chara sitting in the Court of Judgment, the slave-quarters, the lords who lived in the palace, the Map Room and Council Chamber, and the tiny windows. I was surprised to realize how much I knew about my adopted home, and even more surprised to discover that my memories had a distant feel to them, as though I were describing a foreign land I had once visited.
"Ursula, I'm going to have to take you to the governor's palace tonight," I said. "The Chara is expecting me to return, and we'll be safer in the palace in any case. I'll leave a letter for John in case he arrives back here before we do."
Ursula looked for a moment as though she were going to argue. Then she swallo
wed her protest. "John has his paper and quill in that box over there. I'll pack some of my things."
I sat on the windowseat, my cheek brushing the shutters, and scribed my letter to John. As I finished, I looked up and found Ursula beside me, a small pack slung over her shoulder. Her face was in shadow to the firelight, and she said nothing. Suddenly, she seated herself next to me and put her hand over mine. "Andrew, there is something I must tell you, now, while John is away."
I quickly extracted my hand from hers and rose. She remained on the windowseat, staring up at me through her dark eyes set in a moon-bright face.
"I don't keep secrets from John," I said. Then I added, "I didn't know that you kept secrets from him."
"Andrew, we all have secrets we cannot tell those we love. John rarely tells me what the gods say to him when he goes to the priests' house, and this is something I could not tell you if John were here. I am one of the Jackal's thieves."
I looked at the delicate creature before me and felt an impulse to smile. But she was watching me soberly, so I said, "Ursula, the Chara is my master. You ought not to have told me this."
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