Traitors' Gate

by Kate Elliott

  Mai looked at Tuvi. He had stiffened slightly, maybe even blushing a little, remembering his ignoble defeat.

  Anji saw Tuvi’s expression and sighed. “Ah. The one who knew herbs and flowers.”

  “She was not right for you, Chief Tuvi,” said Mai tartly. “You did not truly love her. You were only taken in by her pretty face. Beauty flies quickly.” She rapped his forearm with her closed fan. “You would have gotten bored of her.”

  The chief relaxed. “I admit, I did not expect to be rebuked in such a manner. Refusing to eat my rice! But a man does get lonely. Perhaps you will choose for me, Mistress?”

  Anji raised an eyebrow.

  “I will keep my eyes open. For you, Tuvi-lo, someone special only.”

  And it was true, she thought, as the chief chuckled with Anji, that Chief Tuvi had felt the rejection more than the loss. Tuvi had not loved or even particularly respected Avisha, who was a pleasant young woman Mai’s own age and knowledgeable about plants, as Anji had naturally recalled because he always remembered any fact that might be of possible use to him, but she was not a deep spirit, not like Mai’s dear Miravia, who was lost to her now, trapped in a cage of her clan’s making.

  “What did become of the lass?” asked Anji. “I seem to recall . . . Jagi, wasn’t it?”

  Tuvi nodded, expression determinedly bland.

  To have lost the girl to a mere tailman! How it must sting.

  “Ah, yes, you recommended Jagi, Tuvi-lo, did you not?” Anji turned to Mai. “We have set up training camps in different parts of Olo’osson. We’ve assigned Qin troopers to stand as sergeants over companies drawn from local men. They’ve got to train fast and hard, become cohesive units. We don’t know how soon we’ll have to fight.”

  “Jagi is good with the locals.” Wth a wry smile, Tuvi gestured toward the square of benches seen below that marked the spot where marriages were finalized. “He’s patient with them. They like him. The troop of local lads he was training here consistently won in trials, so we sent him and his troop and his wife and the two children to Dast Welling. If all goes well, he’ll be training an entire cohort.”

  “That’s a substantial responsibility,” said Mai. “I’m pleased for Avisha’s sake.”

  “You were fond of her?” Anji asked. “Women feel most comfortable with women around them. Maybe you are lonely for the company of other women?”

  “I have Priya, of course.”

  “Of course. She is an educated woman. A priestess of the Merciful One. You are fortunate to have such an exceptional woman in your household.”

  “I am. She is the greatest comfort to me. But it is true—” Only Tuvi stood close enough to listen. Even Anji’s two bodyguards, Sengel and Toughid, had relaxed enough to walk away out of earshot, although not eyeshot, to suck down ladles of fermented milk. “I miss my dear friend Miravia. Do you suppose you could talk to her father and uncles? You might be able to persuade them to allow me to visit her again. I have accepted she will never again be allowed to visit in our own compound, after that terrible incident. After men not of her kin saw her face—”

  His expression closed. “The Ri Amarah run their own houses by their own laws. We do not meddle with those who have treated us as guests and given us aid. That is all I have to say.”

  She knew that look. She had grown up in the Mei clan, where Father Mei ruled all and must be consulted in all matters except the most trivial. It was what she had expected in her own marriage. But in matters of business and marriage, Anji had let go of the reins; she was in charge, and he never meddled because he assumed she knew what she was doing and that she would do what benefited them. It was a potent brew, going straight to the head like too much sweet cordial.

  But there was a line, and on the other side of that line, he commanded.

  As the baby gurgled, he smiled and lifted up Atani to dandle him. The matter was closed to him; he would not think of it any longer, but she had not that facility. She would think of Miravia and Miravia’s troubles, and mourn the loss not of a friendship, for they could write one to another, but for the voice and smile and touch that had come to mean so much to her in so short a time. To lose the intimacy of their friendship was a grief so sharp it was like a wound.

  “Mai?” His smile faded as he watched her.

  She sealed her sorrow as in a cask and set it away beside her fear for Shai. Alive, Anji had said; not coming home.

  “What other news?” she said, more brightly than she intended. “What of the reeves? Have you heard from Marshal Joss? Reeve Miyara told me he was called away to the north.”

  Anji’s eyes narrowed as if he were looking into the sun. He shifted the baby more firmly into his grasp. “From the north, the news is bad. Are you sure you wish to hear an accounting on such a pleasant day?”

  “I do not wish to hide from the truth, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Very well, then. The news from the north.”

  11

  JOSS SHIFTED HIS seat on his pillow in the audience room of the commander’s cote in Argent Hall. He’d arrived midday from the north with his thoughts in a tumult at everything he must try to accomplish. Facing the senior fawkners, he began to doubt he could change a cursed thing.

  “You want to name a fawkner to act as marshal over Argent Hall so you can go be commander at Clan Hall.” Askar rubbed his grizzled chin. He was missing two fingers on his right hand, but the injury never seemed to hamper his fawkner’s work, or his strong opinions. “It can’t work.”

  “It’s true that a fawkner has never stood as marshal,” said Verena thoughtfully, “but in the Tale of Fortune, an ordinand stands in for Marshal Foragerda at Horn Hall for two years while the marshal searches for her mother. And in the tale of the Swift Horse—”

  “A comic tale, in which folk are ridiculed,” remarked Askar.

  “It’s the reeve hall that’s being ridiculed, and then it turns out a hieros and his hierodules and kalos restore order in the hall when none of the reeves who stepped up to the task could manage it.”

  “Are you saying you’re willing to stand as marshal of Argent Hall, Verena?” Joss asked. “You’d be a good marshal.”

  “And be accused of having slept with you to get the preference? Askar would be a better choice.”

  Askar yelped. “Neh, I won’t do it! I don’t want the aggravation.”

  Joss turned to the third fawkner, who watched with a calm gaze. “Geddi? You’re well liked. Folk confide in you.”

  “Because they know he never opens his mouth to tattle their secrets!” Verena smiled affectionately at the man, who was thirteen years younger, a Violet Eagle with all that meant: honest, respectful, an especially hard worker, and known to have kept out of the quarrels and cruelties that had plagued the hall during the months of misrule by Marshal Yordenas and his cronies.

  Geddi ran a hand over his close-cropped hair.

  “You’ve a lot of friends among the younger reeves,” added Joss. “They trust your judgment.”

  “I’m not the right one,” said Geddi. “If it’s a temporary measure, Verena should do it. Everyone respects her and Askar for sticking it out in the bad years, keeping true to the eagles. Besides”—he had the grin of a man who likes wicked gossip— “talk in the hall is not that you slept with the marshal to get preference, Rena.”

  Joss flushed. The hells! They’d only slept together once, and that at Verena’s instigation.

  Verena’s glower would have curdled milk. “What do they say behind my back, then?”

  “That you were the only one bold enough to act on what the rest were wishing for.”

  Joss groaned and hid his face behind a hand.

  Askar said, “No doubt he’s grinning behind there, eh?”

  “And that you only bothered the one time, so maybe that sends a message to the younger women who might have thought of strutting after him otherwise.”

  “Ouch,” said Joss.

  Verena chuckled in the confident
way mature women can have, the ones who can’t be rattled. He’d seen the terrible scars on her torso; he knew how tough she was. “Were you wondering why no one else in the hall tried to seduce you, Marshal?”

  Joss rested his head on his hands. He was vain of his looks, it was true; he took for granted that women would find him attractive.

  “They’re just jesting with you,” said Askar.

  Joss raised his head. “Neh, I surely deserve it. Anyway, you’re all honest enough to speak your minds, a precious thing. Verena, will you take the authority of marshal?” He indicated the chamber, neatly organized by a clerk brought in from Olossi to manage the marshal’s correspondence and the hall’s accounts books. “The sleeping room’s a bit messy . . .”

  Askar sighed.

  Geddi snorted, laughing.

  “It’s nothing I asked for,” said Verena, “nor do I want it. But I love this hall. I gave my clan three children who survived to adulthood, and now I’m free to do the work I care for most. Argent Hall is barely recovered from the rot introduced by Yordenas. We’ve got to heal if we want to recover our strength. We’ve got the training hall to oversee as well—Naya Hall must have strong leadership, too. How do you propose we manage all this?”

  “If we don’t unite the halls, then we’ll all go down to defeat by the northern army. Do you know what happened to Horn Hall?”

  “They vanished,” said Askar. “No one has heard a word of them for over a year.”

  “And what of those corrupt reeves who were here at Argent Hall, obeying Yordenas, the ones who fled we know not where?” Joss pressed his point. “What if Lord Radas is already at work corrupting other reeves? Other halls? We have to do something different from what we were doing before—which was nothing—as the Star of Life rose to swallow so much land. All that time we ignored the changes taking place around us. Yet there comes a time when change overtakes the traveler, as it says in the tale. We can’t know what may happen next. We must be ready for anything.”

  He’d first heard such words from Zubaidit. At the time, he’d protested mightily. But after the events of the intervening months and the power displayed by an army commanded by cloaks claiming to be Guardians, he had come to believe she was right. And not just because mere days ago she had kissed him in a way that still troubled his dreams and daylight hours—

  “You’re passionate today,” said Geddi. “The tone you use is very persuasive, Commander. It’s true the reports from Haldia and Istria and Toskala and the north are enough to scald one’s ears. It’s like we’re living in a tale, not chanting one. Cursed uncomfortable, if you ask me. I liked it quiet the way it used to be back when I was a lad.”

  “Yet you’ve told me many a time how you came from a quarrelsome family!” said Verena with a laugh.

  “True enough! That’s why I find the eagles so restful. They’re more honest than humankind. They don’t take sides.”

  Verena gestured for silence. “If these Guardians fly about on winged horses and can command those who kill for them to kill each other in turn, as you say happened in Toskala, how can anyone be safe?”

  “No one is,” said Joss. “I’m not yet sure how reeves can be best used, but we can’t merely patrol the roads, stand at assizes, and haul in criminals for trial.”

  “You think we have to become soldiers,” said Geddi.

  “Every hall has records going back many generations. The stewards and fawkners and senior reeves know which eagles are from family groups, which tolerate each other, which have to be kept well apart. We already send out reeves to patrol in pairs and threes. The first thing I want is a roster of how—if—we can create larger patrol units.”

  Askar grunted, looking skeptical. “What good will larger patrol units do? Anyhow, eagles won’t fly in pretty ranks the way those Qin soldiers ride. Nor are they dogs to fetch and run at their master’s will.”

  Geddi said nothing.

  Verena nodded. “A roster can be written up. What’s the second thing you want?”

  “Make sure we identify and restock every way station and haven reeves can shelter at in Argent Hall’s territory. Especially ones rarely visited.”

  Verena whistled. “You don’t ask for much. Anything else?”

  The writing desk behind which Joss sat had been cleared of paper, everything in its place. No wonder the commander at Clan Hall had kept her cote sparsely furnished and neatly ordered: no matter how much of a morass she was wading through, she could always close the doors and enjoy a moment of serenity in a place where there was no mess.

  He smiled crookedly. “I’m making this up as I go along.”

  The bell announcing dinner rang three times. A man shouted in the distance, the sound followed by bright laughter.

  Joss rose. “Marshal Verena, Argent Hall is yours. I’ll announce it in the hall over the evening meal.”

  “What do you mean to do next, Commander?” she asked.

  It seemed that between one breath and the next, Joss found himself answering to a rank he had never aspired to. Commander of the reeve halls. Aui! Life took strange turns.

  “The only thing I can do. Gather my allies and make a plan.”

  • • •

  FROM THE COUNCIL square in the port town of Ankeno, which was situated on a bluff overlooking the Bay of Istria, Captain Arras studied the green landscape on the horizon: the delta of the River Istri.

  “How do you propose to attack a city protected by a powerful river channel on one side and a vast mire on the other?” he asked. As he looked around the outdoor gathering of some thirty or more company subcaptains and cohort captains, he recognized that his question had irritated half of them and made the other half uncomfortable.

  “Captain Arras, is it?” Captain Dessheyi’s badge designated him as captain of First Cohort, which meant he was a man with connections to Lord Radas. Whether he was militarily up to the task remained to be seen.

  “That’s right.”

  “And you command—?”

  “I’m here with three companies, the remnants of Sixth Cohort. We took heavy casualties in High Haldia. After the siege, we were assigned to garrison High Haldia and regroup. I had to reorganize six undermanned companies into three complete ones and rid myself of a few cripples and incompetents while I was at it. For a few months I was chief administrative governor over High Haldia, under the command of Lord Twilight.”

  “Lord Twilight is the cloak who commanded the failed expedition to Olossi, is he not?”

  The cursed man was trying to needle him. Arras bit down a retort. “I follow orders, Captain Dessheyi. My company was reassigned here. Since we reached the lower Istri, we’ve been assigned to pacify villages between here and the Wild, just a few skirmishes and a few rebels running into the deep forest.”

  “Where they’ll be slaughtered by wildings and have their heads pinned to racks as a warning to the rest of us. How come you here today, Captain?”

  “Commander Hetti ordered my companies to report to you for assignment. He told me you’re still setting a perimeter around the delta.” He did not mean the statement to sound critical, but by the twitch of Captain Dessheyi’s eyes, the fellow had taken it that way.

  “Setting a perimeter in this region is not like building a fence to corral your sheep in an upland valley, Captain, where all you have to do is collect rocks and stack them in a circle. This cursed delta runs ten or twelve mey in length from the river’s main branching at Skerru south to the bay, and it’s almost as wide. If you know how to stretch ten cohorts to fence in that much territory when we also have to patrol the restless countryside and outfit enough boats to oversee traffic in the bay, I’d be pleased to hear your suggestions.”

  The others—some of whom he recognized from the attack on High Haldia and some he’d never seen before—looked over to see how Arras would respond.

  He wasn’t daunted. “How do the Nessumara folk themselves patrol their territory? Given that they’re famous in the Hundred as traders and m
erchants, always after a deal, known to be as rich as Sarrelya, they must have lines of communication we can exploit.”

  “They do, indeed,” said Dessheyi with the sort of condescending smile Arras distrusted in any man. “That’s why our commanders have already sealed bargains with certain clans in Nessumara who will deliver the city into our hands in the same manner we took Toskala. As we did here in Ankeno.” He indicated the deserted streets of the port town.

  “They’ll betray their own, in return for personal gain and clan power.” Arras nodded, although the prospect wearied him. “Seems cowardly to me, and it’s a sad day when no fighting is involved, but it’s certainly easier on the troops than a full-out battle. My soldiers took heavy casualties on the High Haldia campaign.”

  “As you mentioned before,” replied Dessheyi. “But there’s fighting yet to be had. Olo’osson certainly has shown they mean to resist.”

  “I’ll look forward to marching to Olossi, then.”

  “I am sure you will, but not today. Today, we’re considering how we will defend Nessumara after our allies deliver the city to us.”

  “If there are any left who will dare oppose Lord Commander Radas,” remarked Arras, wondering if the rest were as mutely passive as they looked. A person who feared that every least word might get him bitten could no more command in battle than he could train a belligerent dog.

  Captain Dessheyi nodded, as much answer as Arras was going to get, and resumed his speech. “The western channel of the River Istri can’t be forded. It’s simply too powerful. There is only one bridge—a rope and plank bridge—that spans it, at Halting Reach. It’s been reeled in by the defenders. So, once we take control of Nessumara, we’ll have no trouble maintaining the western perimeter.”