by Hilari Bell
“Master Zachiros says he’s doing well. In fact—”
The warning chime sounded though the open window; ten minutes to Dawn Prayer. The priest shook his head and visibly changed his mind about what he’d intended to say. “Nevin, you may attend the Hierarch today. Jeriah’s going to be busy.”
“But—”
“If you don’t go now, he’ll be late for the Dawn Prayer—and that’s unacceptable,” said Master Lazur.
Nevin gave Jeriah a final scowl and hurried out.
“I agree with the boy,” said Master Kerratis. “Oh, not about the whipping. I don’t care if you whip him or not. But you can’t place the Hierarch’s care in…unreliable hands. Dismiss him from the palace.”
“With whom would you replace him?” the priest asked. “You know how hard it’s been to get the Sunlord to accept a new squire.”
“A squire who fails in essential duties does no one any good,” the healer replied. “There’s bound to be someone else he’ll accept. If we introduced them very gradually, I think that would turn the trick. We just tried to move too swiftly before.”
“Hmm. If you’re right about that…”
If they sent Jeriah away now, Tobin would die.
“Masters, I swear it won’t happen again. I thought the servants would take care of his medicine.”
Master Kerratis ignored him. “I know young Rovanscourt’s reputation, Lazur. How could you entrust him with—”
“You make too much of it.” Master Lazur’s voice was firm. “I’ll handle the matter.”
The healer priest glared at Jeriah. “I think you should question him under a truth spell.”
Jeriah’s heart lurched. If they put a truth spell on him, they’d learn everything!
“But…but that’s for criminals! I’m not a liar. Though if you feel you must persist in this insult, over nothing more than a misunderstanding, I will submit.” Jeriah tried to look haughty and offended, praying from the bottom of his soul that they wouldn’t insist.
Master Lazur finally stirred. “No, this is a trivial matter when all’s said. We shouldn’t overreact.”
Master Kerratis shut his mouth with a snap. “Then I’ll stop wasting both our time. Good day.” He glared at Jeriah again and departed.
Jeriah relaxed slightly.
“It’s not that trivial,” Master Lazur told him. “But Master Zachiros says you’re doing well, for the most part. Have there been any other problems?”
“No, master. Though it’s more complicated than…well, it’s complicated.”
“So except for last night I have no complaint of you.” The priest’s expression remained bland, but his eyes were intent. Jeriah’s nerves tightened. He’d relaxed too soon.
“Where were you last night?”
“I was meeting someone, master. I hope you’ll forgive me but I can’t, in honor, give her name. It wasn’t…We only talked, but…” Jeriah wished he could blush but feared his face was white instead. If Master Lazur changed his mind about that truth spell…
“But you’ve only been here…”
The priest’s eyes swept over Jeriah and his expression changed from surprise to resignation. Jeriah let his breath trickle out, careful not to sigh with relief. There were advantages to inheriting his mother’s looks.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties, your personal life is none of my business,” Master Lazur said. “But I’d advise you…Oh, why bother? Jeriah, you were given this job in spite of your past because it was convenient for me. If you fail in your duties again, we’ll dismiss you. Understand?”
Jeriah nodded—he didn’t dare speak.
“After Dawn Prayer you’ll apologize to the Hierarch. And then”—the priest’s lips twitched—“Master Goserian will give you a little work.”
“I’m sorry, Sunlord, that I failed to attend you. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Jeriah studied the old man’s face with some concern—he really hadn’t intended to neglect him—but the Hierarch looked the same as always.
“All right.” The old man patted his arm. “All right, Jeriah.”
Jeriah! The Hierarch had learned his name. Maybe now he wouldn’t have to introduce himself every morning.
“Thank you, my lord.”
After his apology Jeriah reported to Master Goserian, who gave him a bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush and showed him the temple floor.
“Generally I assign eight servants to clean this. It takes them less than an hour. It will take you longer.”
Was there laughter in that pompous voice?
“But there are advantages to that,” Master Goserian continued. “By the time you get down the steps to the second level, the petitions should be over.”
Jeriah eyed the stairs falling gracefully down the hill. Four flights. They grew wider as they descended. “The stairs too?”
“The steps that lead to the temple are part of the temple,” Master Goserian confirmed. “I’ll assign someone to bring you fresh buckets. If you had to fetch water yourself, you’d still be scrubbing when the Sunset Prayer was called.”
He strolled away. Jeriah gazed at the vast expanse of marble and winced.
The stone came clean fairly easily, but there was a lot of it. Jeriah’s rolled-up sleeves kept falling down and soon became wet. The knees of his britches were soaked. The maidservant who brought him fresh buckets smiled sympathetically…and brought more buckets. Jeriah smiled back—and waited till she was out of earshot to swear.
By midday he’d started on the stairs, and his good manners paid off; the girl brought him a meal and sat on the step beside him while he ate. Jeriah listened politely to her chatter, and ignored the flirtatious smiles for several minutes before he recognized an opportunity. Had she seen many of the palace treasures? When she dusted, for instance?
It turned out she’d cleaned most large objects in the palace, but if she’d seen a pile…chest?…sack?…of blood god amulets, she didn’t mention it.
Jeriah returned to his scrubbing in a better mood. He’d known worse punishment for past pranks, it was just…there was something humiliating in being punished like a child. The legendary knights who had to neglect their duties to perform great deeds were praised, not set to scrubbing the floor. But talking to the girl had given him some ideas. Mistress Koryn might know where the amulets were kept. Jeriah’s sudden shiver had nothing to do with his wet clothes. Mistress Koryn would also remember Jeriah’s interest if anyone noticed the amulets were gone. Was there anyone else…? He had to find them as soon as he could. The goblins would need time to search for the spell notes, and in less than a week Tobin would began to sicken.
The hours passed more quickly while he planned, but Jeriah was tired by the time he neared the bottom of the stairs.
“I see you’ve found a task that suits your capabilities.”
Nevin stood three steps above Jeriah, and his malicious grin spoke volumes.
He’s only trying to provoke you. Don’t… Jeriah couldn’t resist. “You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have anything to do. Pity they’ve got enough stable muckers.”
Nevin smirked. “You should know—I understand you’ve performed that task more than once.”
Jeriah’s lips tightened, but this time he managed to keep his mouth shut. If his reputation as a prankster made Nevin and Master Lazur underestimate him, then thank the Bright Gods for it. “Don’t you have anything to do, Sir Nevin?”
“As a matter of fact I need to pack. I’ll be doing some traveling soon.”
He wants you to ask where and why, and be envious. “How nice for…” Jeriah’s brain finally awoke, and Nevin’s pricking became irrelevant. “Where are you going?” And for how long, and is Master Lazur going with you?
“The western coast. I understand it’s beautiful this time of year.”
“It is. My mother comes from that area.”
Could this be some part of her scheme? Jeriah didn’t see how, but if he was suspicious, what would
Master Lazur be thinking?
A frown was forming on Nevin’s brow—Jeriah had been silent too long. “It’s a pity I have more important things to do than take pleasure jaunts. I could show you around.”
“It’s not entirely for pleasure. There’s some rather odd unrest there. People are asking why we have to relocate instead of fighting the barbarians. It’s probably nothing, but Master Lazur thinks we should kill it before it grows. He’s taking me to be his eyes and ears when he’s not present.”
Jeriah’s heart leapt. Whatever his mother was up to, she’d accomplished one thing—Master Lazur was leaving!
“I’m sure you’ll make an excellent spy,” Jeriah told him. “Eavesdropping, lying, sneaking around. You’ll have a wonderful time.”
Nevin’s face darkened. “And when I get back, I’ll check to be sure you’ve managed to perform your simple duties properly.”
He turned to go. No time for subtlety.
“I’ll be counting the days. When do you leave?”
For a moment Jeriah thought he wouldn’t get an answer, but Nevin had to have the last word. “Day after tomorrow. Enjoy your afternoon.” He gestured at the remaining steps and strolled off, leaving Jeriah torn between fear for his mother and quivering excitement. There was no way to know how long they’d be gone, but in their absence…
Three hours past midday Jeriah finished scrubbing. He felt as sore as if he had been beaten as he clambered wetly to his feet and stumbled off to the baths. He might not know where the barbarian amulets were, but he knew who to ask—and he’d finally figured out an excuse that wouldn’t rouse her suspicions.
Mistress Koryn was easy to find. Today she sat at a library table, with a small, old-looking book in front of her and a sheaf of notes to one side. Ink smudged both her right hand and her nose, and her gown was a drab blue that was even less flattering than the last two.
Jeriah knew better than to wait for her to notice him. And she seemed the kind of girl who wouldn’t mind if he went straight to the point.
“Mistress Koryn, I need information about the barbarians. As much as I can get. They say you’re the person to ask.”
She jumped when he spoke, and her extraordinary eyes studied him for a long moment before she replied.
“And you’re suddenly taken with a burning desire to learn about the barbarians because…?”
“Because I want to get my brother back.” Jeriah met her gaze steadily. “If I could figure out some better way to fight the barbarians, maybe I could make the relocation unnecessary. And if I did that, I think I could persuade Master Lazur to open a gate for me. He’d owe me that much.”
“And you plan to accomplish all this in what…less than a month?” Koryn asked.
“He could become ill in less than a week.” Fear tightened Jeriah’s voice as he spoke. “He might even be ill now. He’ll live for several more weeks, but that’s all. Please. My brother is going to die!”
She’d lost her whole family—she should have melted with sympathy. Any other girl would have. Koryn eyed him suspiciously for a long moment. “I guess it depends on what you want to know.”
It was much too soon for Jeriah to blurt out that he wanted to know about the barbarian amulets.
“I understand why getting everyone behind the great wall would help so much, as a matter of tactics.” Jeriah pointed to a map of the Realm of the Seven Bright Gods that had been painted on a high wall, above the level where shelves were practical.
The great southern desert, which the barbarians had to cross in order to attack the Realm, was a yellow blur at the bottom, flowing into a wide crescent of golden green marked with roads and towns. The Southlands. Moving up the map, the Realm broadened even more through the green Midlands, rimmed by rocky hills to the west and the scattered lakes and marshes of the wetlands to the east. In between lay the finest farmland known to man. The dark green forest of the north began just after the Realm started to narrow abruptly, like the neck of an off-center hourglass.
Looking at a map like this made it perfectly clear why that narrow neck of land that joined the Realm to the woodlands beyond the wall was the perfect point of defense—even without the great stone wall that spanned it. Still…
“This map doesn’t show all of the woodlands,” Jeriah said. “But they’re smaller than the rest of the Realm, and uprooting all those trees would be a farmer’s nightmare. No one wants to go. Half the Realm’s population will probably just sit on their own land, no matter what the Hierarch says, until it’s too late. There’s got to be a way to stop them in the Southlands. That’s what you’re trying to find, isn’t it?”
“If I find a way, I’ll certainly let you know,” Koryn said dryly. “But there’s no place short of the wall where the border is less than hundreds of miles across. And now that they’ve got bases in the Southlands, bases they can occupy year-round…I’m sorry about your brother. I really am. But, Jeriah, there is no way to stop the barbarians short of the wall. The border there narrows to less than thirty miles, and the wall is—”
“I’ve seen it,” Jeriah told her. “And that wall will need a lot of repairs to make it into a solid barrier. We’ve held the barbarians on the southern border for years now. I know their army has been growing, but why not just bring in more of our own men to match them?”
“Every landholder in the council is already screaming that they’re not going to be able to get the planting done with the men they have,” Koryn told him. “And the number of men the Hierarch can demand for army service was set when the Realm was first formed.”
“So what?” said Jeriah. “If the choice is between sending more men or relocating, the landholders will find men to send. And the Hierarch…the Hierarch speaks for the Seven Bright Gods. If the first Hierarch set the limits for army service, why can’t this Hierarch speak for the Gods again and change it?”
This Hierarch was a mindless husk, and the Gods’ will was currently being interpreted by Timeon Lazur, but Koryn might not know that. How deep in Master Lazur’s confidence was she?
“If we had the men,” he went on, “surely we could wipe out enough of their army to drive them away. Yes, it might be hard to get the crops in if we sent more men to the border. Yes, it would mean changing the ancient laws about army service. But that has to be better than trying to move the entire Realm!”
He was panting when he stopped, but he’d had the sense to keep his voice low. To question the Hierarch’s decrees was to question the Bright Gods themselves—both heresy and treason.
“It’s not just numbers,” Koryn said. “Our army outnumbers theirs right now, by about five percent as nearly as we can estimate.”
Jeriah brightened. “If we already outnumber them, then we wouldn’t need many more troops! We can—”
“It’s not a matter of numbers! You served with the army for almost a year. You have to know what I’m talking about.”
This wasn’t something Jeriah ordinarily admitted to girls, but…“I was only on the border for one summer. I went out with several patrols, but I never actually fought the barbarians. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But you must know about…” Koryn eyed him warily. “Never mind. We’d need more men than you think, because the barbarians aren’t going to get discouraged and go home. They can’t. There’s a terrible drought in their own lands. Not a natural drought, either—it’s lasted more than ten years now, and it’s getting worse every year. Their rain has vanished. Their lakes are gone. Their rivers are gone. They have no crops. Even the grass is dying. Their only chance for survival is to conquer a new land. And the only land available is ours.”
“But that’s impossible. No drought lasts that long.”
“As I said, it’s not natural. The priests say the Bright Gods are punishing them for giving themselves over to the Dark One.”
“Right,” Jeriah said dryly. “Isn’t there some way we could negotiate—”
“It’s not nonsense! I don’t c
laim to know what the Gods are thinking, but the barbarians are evil.”
“If they’re all going to starve, if they just want to survive, then surely we could work something out.”
“That’s what the Hierarch thought when they first attacked us, years ago,” Koryn told him. “He was going to offer them the northern wood. Safe passage through the Realm—escorted by the army, to make sure it was safe for everyone. The land would be hard to till and settle, but better for everyone than war to the death.”
“That sounds like a good solution,” said Jeriah. “Why didn’t it work?”
“Because the barbarians turned it down,” Koryn told him. “And ate all but one of the diplomatic party who carried the Hierarch’s message. Which made it a bit hard to repeat the offer. The one they left alive—he was only a boy, somebody’s page. He came back to our lines, draped in one of their filthy amulets, and told the generals that the barbarians said they didn’t want useless woods. That they could take the land they needed, for they had nothing to fear from us. Later that night”—her voice was very quiet—“the boy killed himself.”
Jeriah’s stomach was churning. “All right, but that was before this war had really started, before so many of their own warriors died. Maybe now—”
“Aren’t you listening?” Her calm voice was rising. “The barbarians are evil. We have no choice but to fight them to the death—theirs or ours! Because this can’t end any other way.”
The words echoed in the quiet room, and Jeriah looked around. There was no one nearby.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I heard about what happened to your family. But you have to admit that might be influencing your judgment. It would influence anyone! So I have to—”
“You know nothing about what happened to my family.” Her voice was quieter, but contempt flashed over her face. “You never even fought them.”
“Neither have you,” Jeriah pointed out, nettled. “Your father put you up on a horse before the attack, and it bolted. Which is good,” he added hastily. “You’d have died, otherwise.”
