The Unremembered

by Peter Orullian

  Vendanj knelt where the Velle had been, looking over the emaciated corpses of Grant’s fallen wards. Grant came up beside the Sheason, Braethen came to Vendanj’s other side.

  They stared at the lifeless bodies.

  “They were your own,” Vendanj said through labored breaths. The Sheason finally succumbed to his exhaustion from the battle and sat directly on the ground.

  Grant took a parchment from his pocket and handed it to Vendanj. “Your list of names. In your haste … You win, Vendanj. I’ll come along.”

  “Thank you,” the Sheason said, holding up the list of widows.

  Grant looked at the paper in Vendanj’s hands. “I have my own reasons for coming along,” he said. “But you might regret trusting my diplomacy.”

  Vendanj nodded, still looking at the dead youths lying in front of him. He then lay back on the hardpan of the Scar to rest. He looked not so different from the corpse beside him. He took a sprig of herb and laid it on his tongue.

  When Vendanj stood again, they reckoned by the light of the Dog Star and started on their way to Recityv.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Recityv Civility

  The Civilization Order is working in Vohnce. We will establish the law wherever we are garrisoned. Attach the Recityv report on crime and commerce as evidence.

  —Charge issued by League leadership in the ninth year of the Civilization Order

  Tahn and Sutter traveled north for three days, passing towns with greater frequency. On the fourth day, the road widened and became more pocked and rutted by the hour. Then, a great wall appeared in the distance, rising twice as high as any Tahn had seen before. It extended so far to the east and west that trees concealed the ends. Above the wall, Tahn could see great domes and spires and vaulted roofs, gables pitched like the tip of a spear, each one higher than the last. The city was immense. Recityv.

  More and more travelers joined the stream of people moving toward the gate, some walking, others riding as he and Sutter, still others in ornately decorated carriages. He felt for Edholm’s sticks in his cloak. Their touch reassured him, until he thought of Wendra. He only hoped that she and the others had arrived safely.

  “Well, Nails, this is what you came for.” Tahn gestured ahead. “That’s more adventure than I think even you can handle.”

  A distant look passed over his friend’s eyes before the familiar smile returned. “We’ll find out, won’t we, Woodchuck.”

  As the road widened, it also became more congested. A few hundred strides from the city wall, houses sat nestled among hosts of tents woven of bright-colored, expensive-looking canvas. Cook fires burned, the smoke settling like a low cloud over everything.

  Along the road, merchants had staked out space for their carts. Standing before their wares, they held samples of their goods, pitching anyone who looked their way. Everything Tahn could imagine was on display by well-manicured traders. Some hawked exotic foods, claiming origins as far west as Mal’Sent and as far south as Riven Port.

  Many of them looked about with hawkish eyes and weapons on their belts. Others huddled in shadows, raising dirty hands for alms.

  Tahn noted pairs of soldiers adorned in burgundy cassocks and cloaks, a white circle prominent over the left breast bearing the sigil of a tree with roots as deep as its boughs were tall.

  The chaos of countless merchant barkers, squealing children, stock and pets braying and barking, laughter, insults and curses, quarrels, all of it rushed at Tahn in a swirl of humanity.

  Tahn took it all in, and thought more longingly of home.

  In many ways, though larger, this city outside the city was like others he’d seen of late. But in one way it proved different, unsettling: street prophets.

  Calling as enthusiastically as their trading counterparts, these men and women—and children—looked at everyone with astounded eyes and seemed to see no one. Matted, dirty hair hung from tanned scalps as they gestured maniacally and spoke their rants.

  “Every son and daughter is an abomination, a curse from the Whited One.” The man calling out a wild-eyed screed shouted through cracked lips. Scabs looking like dried leeches riddled his lips, but didn’t stop his raving. “The end of Forda I’Forza has long since passed, and we live in a hollow time, a dead age. A dry wind blows south from the farthest places, starting at the other end of the Bourne and passing over us like a whisper. Don’t you see!” The man began to jump up and down, accentuating each word with the pounding of his heels on the soil. “We are Quiet already. We are come to our earth and haven’t woken yet to taste the worms. No Sheason, no leagueman, no regent or general, no one can undo what has been done. Our Song of Suffering is over, it is the echo of it from a distant cliff that we hear. And when it’s gone, we’ll have been dead a generation.”

  Tahn and Sutter swung wide of the man, tramping close to a woman seated on an elaborate rug, who clicked her fingers together and spoke in words that rhymed every third phrase. She spoke of lands west of Mal’Sent, whole worlds on the other side of the oceans. She told of a place that hid beyond the Bourne like the forgotten child of orphan parents. At the end of each rhyme, she opened her eyes to see if anyone had placed a coin in the hat at the edge of her blanket. Her substantial belly hung over the waistband of her skirt, and a slender wrap that hung loosely from her shoulders more than hinted at a full bosom beneath. Straight, dark hair had been gathered in a brass ring at the crown of her head, pointing skyward like a harvest bale.

  But perhaps the strangest of all was a child, standing on a wooden box, who tapped answers to questions with a wooden peg leg. They paused to watch. A man standing behind the boy interpreted the responses for those who paid for knowledge. A small wooden sign leaning against the boy’s box announced his ability was a gift from the First Fathers, and that he’d been rescued from the mountains fabled to house the Tabernacle of the Sky, where the Fathers had sat at Creation. When he raised a hand, exposing a long tear in the seam of his shirt, Tahn could see clearly the child’s rib cage. What must he do for food, Tahn thought, as the boy tapped out another answer to some riddle.

  These strange and desperate people intrigued Tahn the most. He didn’t know if he felt sadness for them, or kinship. Was his own sense of whether a thing should live or die any different?

  A chill ran up his back. And worry that he could wind up here, too.

  He and Sutter moved on.

  Focusing on the wide gates, Tahn pressed through eddies of milling shoppers and travelers toward the city. At the south entrance, one line of wagons and carriages waited to be inspected; another line moved more quickly, where people on foot or horseback were scrutinized briefly before being allowed to go in. When he and Sutter reached a uniformed attendant who held a small copybook in one hand and a quill in the other, panic rose in Tahn’s throat.

  With a tired monotone, the man asked, “What brings you to Recityv?”

  Before Tahn could answer, Sutter declared, “We’re hungry.”

  A crooked smile crossed the man’s lips as he visually surveyed them both. “You’re not aspirants to any seat?”

  “What?” Sutter asked.

  “Move along,” the soldier replied, “and keep out of trouble.”

  Relief washed over Tahn as he passed beneath the thick red stone wall of Recityv. He heard a distant cry in his mind—the voice of the Sheason telling them to get to this place. And now they’d arrived safely. In the shadow of the gate, he no longer felt like a child this side of the Change, regardless of whether he’d had his Standing.

  Inside the great wall, buildings towered several stories high. Storefronts gleamed in the daylight, the stone of their facings polished smooth, showing pale reflections of the street they faced. Others were rough-hewn. On the rooftops, a variety of animal statues perched atop the stone, peering down like unmoving familiars.

  Windows varied in size and shape and color. Fancier inns seemed to have been crafted in straight lines and angles, fitted with rectangular panes of glass.
Other edifices had round windows, long and narrow or polygonal windows. And many were tinted various shades of rose, azure, or gold—those on the east side of the road refracting colorful rays of light.

  Some men walked the street in mail, others in cotton twill. Many wore tight leather breeches, mid-calf boots, loose-fitting coats that laced at the neck, and hooded cloaks of various lengths. Women strolled in gowns that shimmered or were oversewn with lace in intricate and delicate designs. Those that didn’t have such finery seemed mostly to go about in work dresses, often bearing stains deep in the fabric. Most of the women wore hats; the brims of those worn by the more stylishly dressed women were long and curved subtly downward in the front and rear, while the brims of many others were short and generally flat, and often the hats had no brim at all.

  A host of richly ornate carriages lined the streets, their owners seeming to be bustling from one shop to another in pursuit of some item to purchase. A charged feeling buzzed in the air, as everywhere standards flapped in the wind.

  Tahn and Sutter kept riding, hoping to see someone they recognized. Perhaps Vendanj would have someone watching for them. Deeper into the city they went, passing arbors and warehouses and multi-floored taverns, past fountains and inns, and offices boldly marked with the sigil of the tree and roots.

  At the center of a broad, grassy common rose a tall, narrow building, crowned by a glass dome. Tahn could see tall cylinders within the bubble, pointing skyward. Near the foundation of the building stood a rooted pavilion with several rows of chairs facing a lectern. At the back, a tall dark slate showed diagrams in yellow chalk. These had a certain pull on Tahn.

  The city was intoxicating.

  And Sutter, agape at the marvels about him, wore an impossibly broad smile, making him look entirely conspicuous.

  “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you might close the royal mouth. It makes you appear a commoner,” Tahn joked.

  Clearing his throat, Sutter sat straight in his saddle. “Just relishing the gems of my domain, boy. It’s wise for a man to reflect upon his success and importance.”

  “A man, you say? And important?” Tahn laughed. “My lord, the only thing man about you is your scent, which I find important indeed. You might consider washing the royal ass.”

  “A job for a chambermaid,” Sutter said, leering. “Delicate work for a delicate girl.” Dropping the conceit, Sutter added, “Where are we going to stay tonight?” He then resumed craning his head at impossible angles to see every height and story of architecture around them.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the others have already arrived.” Tahn looked around at the sheer number of people bustling through the street. “But we’ll never find them without asking someone.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Sutter chided. “Saunter up to someone and ask them if they’ve seen a grim-looking Sheason and a gorgeous young Far?”

  Tahn considered. “We’ll look for the symbol of the three rings,” he said. “If we can find a member of the Order, they’ll be able to help us find Vendanj.”

  “I don’t get the feeling Sheason are welcome here much more than they are anywhere else. Maybe we should find a sodalist.”

  Sutter started to say something more, but choked it off just as they came to a densely packed crowd. The street had suddenly become a wall of humanity too congested to negotiate with a horse. Ahead, and beyond the congregants, Tahn saw a raised scaffold.

  “Move over!” a gruff voice demanded.

  A portly man with mottled skin over most of his face sneered at Tahn and tried to shove his horse aside. The crowd amassed behind them. Tahn reined left and led Sutter to the edge of the street and out of the way. Then above the tumult, a loud voice echoed down the stone of the building fronts.

  “It is with solemn regret, but by authority of the Court of Judicature, that we bring sentence here today.”

  Tahn squinted into the distance. It looked like a gallows. The thin man announcing from the platform wore the color of the Recityv guard. He shouted through a cone he held to his mouth. But it was so far away that it was hard to make out. As the man continued to speak, two figures climbed a stair and stood behind him.

  “Let it be understood that justice will not be denied. The regent will not be swayed by any threat.” A protest went up from some; others cheered. “Today treason will be answered as befits the crime.”

  People jockeyed around for a better view. Tahn looked past the man at the front of the scaffolding at the two standing behind him. And had a feeling hit him about the man on the right. He’d scarcely thought the old words. But still … a horrible certainty. “Ah, my last hell,” he whispered, “this just isn’t getting any easier, is it?”

  But he couldn’t stand idle and do nothing.

  “Come on,” he whispered urgently to Sutter.

  Sutter saw Tahn’s eyes on the prisoner. “Are you doing this again? Really?”

  Tahn jerked his horse’s head about. “Out of the way!” he yelled, hurrying back through the tightly packed crowd. Insults flew, a few swinging at Tahn’s legs as he gained speed, racing away from the gallows.

  Sutter came abreast of him as they dodged around others. “What are you planning?”

  Tahn didn’t answer. He focused on avoiding the various obstacles in the road. Apple cores sailed past his head and rocks struck his chest and shoulder. Sutter yelled at those hurling things toward them, promising to answer their hospitality. At a narrow alley, Tahn turned left. They leapt overturned barrels and broken crates, the clatter of hooves echoing off the walls. Sutter’s nag struggled to keep up.

  Emerging into the next street, Tahn reined in and looked left again. Several intersections north, the crowd had just started to gather.

  “There,” Tahn shouted, and spurred his horse.

  Carriages careened to one side or another as Tahn screamed for them to move over. Children clapped at the spectacle, and he saw two soldiers look his way as he passed. He didn’t turn to see if they pursued him. Near the cross street where people gathered closest to witness the hanging, he reined in. Hooves slipped and scraped over stone as he fought to keep balance. The mob backed away as he came to a reckless stop near the street corner.

  Sutter came in behind him, his old mare dumping him to the ground with a loud thud. Tahn quickly looked around, and found that some second-story windows had short balconies that overlooked the street. He eased to his feet to stand in his saddle, and jumped. Catching a balustrade, he hoisted himself up. A few people appeared to disapprove, but also understand Tahn’s desire for a clear view of the hanging. Sutter began climbing the building, using the deep grooves in the stonework as footholds.

  Tahn knelt on one knee at the side of the balcony nearest the gallows. Though sixty strides away, it was much closer than they had been before. He could see the fear in the faces of the condemned.

  “… resolve is absolute,” the guard was saying. “We are all subject to the rule of law and the discretion of the regent.” A continued mix of approval and scoffing rose from the crowd.

  Sutter reached the balcony and took a knee beside him. “Hells, Tahn, are you serious?”

  “This isn’t the League,” Tahn said.

  “No, it’s the Recityv Guard.” Sutter tugged at this sleeve.

  “Stop,” Tahn scolded. “Don’t bother me now.”

  “Tahn, what’s this about?” Sutter’s voice now held genuine concern. “You can’t save them. And hanging’s quick. Quicker than your arrow.”

  Tahn eyed the gallows crossbar.

  “And there are two of them,” Sutter added. “You’ll never get off two shots. This isn’t the kind of attention we need. You can’t afford—”

  “To what,” Tahn interjected. “To help them?”

  “You don’t know what’s going on here,” Sutter said reasonably. “Those men may deserve this.”

  Tahn looked his friend in the eye. “One of them doesn’t.”

  Sutter stared back, confused. “How could you know
that? Do you recognize—”

  Tahn shook his head. “Please, Sutter, just shut up for a minute.” He wanted to say more, but he knew that anything he might say would sound crazy right now, and there wasn’t time to explain.

  “All right,” Sutter said softly. “But you seem to be taking over my godsdamned adventure.”

  The throng of watchers pressed even tighter as their numbers increased. A line of guards three deep extended in a horseshoe around the gallows, the first row pointing spears outward to keep the crowd back. The officer made an end of speaking and stood aside as each of the two men was fitted with a noose around his neck. A horn trumpeted the moment, calling from some high promenade above the yard where the bulk of the mob stood waiting to witness these deaths. A hush fell over the crowd as a blackcoat spoke privately with each of the convicted. Tahn wondered what the man could possibly say to them at this moment. When he left them, Tahn saw the gleam of tears on one fellow’s cheeks.

  At one side, a second guard in Recityv crimson stood with his hand on a lever, his eyes on the front-most officer. The yard grew quiet enough to hear the birds chirrup in the eaves of a nearby building. The dart and swoop of swallows was the only movement. The sun felt suddenly heavy and too bright, exposing this scene in glaring clarity.

  Tahn took his bow from his back and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He moistened his fingers with his tongue and checked the fletching. He traced the hammer scar on his hand, reminding himself not to clutch his weapon too tightly. Then he stood, holding the bow at a perfect angle to the ground. His heart raced in his chest, pounding an impossible rhythm. But he breathed easy and recited the oldest words he knew. And exhaled.

  Shouts of alarm rang up beneath him as the crowd became aware that he stood there, aiming a bow. But Tahn might have been standing at the edge of some promontory, like a wide, empty chasm before him … and nothing else, save the scaffolding and those condemned. The officer looked at the guard who manned the lever release. At that moment, the guard nodded and performed his task.