Yes, Lord. Here are your errant children.
They slumped around me as He took hold of their souls. How beautiful their dead flesh would be upon the deceitful earth.
A thing stung me, and I found a pale light in the center of the darkening maw.
Ryat—trembling, reached yet for the Spirit of the Earth, alone and beneath an ocean of darkness. I laughed at him and stroked his soul. “So small. Tiny thing, do not fret. Your Father calls you now. Return to Him.”
But on he went, reaching for the light as the hooks sank deep and pulled him down. “Hush.”
A blinding flash and searing pain stabbed me. He was free, and he was singing.
wolf bear cougar lynx caribou man flesh yew
The desire to sing left me.
No! No!
Ryat sang the nouns over and over, a song onto themselves. The Shadow shriveled back and let go. I was left mundane and made of mere flesh. The nouns’ warmth sank as deep as a long draught of hot wine.
Ryat had saved me.
Twenty men clutched and crushed me. Ryat finally rolled away, dead but for the stubborn grip of the Earth upon his soul.
Above me the great tree stirred. Ghosts appeared and swirled amongst the branches. The Mother Yew’s whispers came to me.
‘You failed us, Geart,’ she said, her voice thin and pained.
“What is left for me, Great Lady? The Song of the Earth …”
‘You can no longer sing it. You surrendered the talent when you began to learn more of His words.’
“Forgive me, great lady. Please. Forgive me.”
‘No. Forgiveness is a word that belongs to Bayen’s church. It inspires guilt and keeps men low. Your soul can only be redeemed through actions. You must walk an uncluttered path.’
“What can I do?”
‘You are the enemy now unless you can find your way back on your own.’
I wept. I had failed. The Earth herself had asked me to learn and sing a song that would heal Her. I had failed.
What was there for me to do? My whole life, I’d waited for someone to tell me what to do and where to stand. Avin had tried to teach me another way. I had discovered how to learn, but I did not know how to act.
What could I do without singing? What use were my words?
“Great lady,” I shouted. “I will teach. I will teach others how to listen and how to learn only the words of the Earth. I will bring singers to you who will not fail.”
She did not reply, but slowly my cold flesh began to warm.
“How can I find them?” I asked stupidly, as though I needed to relearn the lesson just taught. I knew how to find singers. I always had. My body warmed from the knowledge, and I sat up.
The greencoats sat silently around me. Avin cradled a barely conscious Ryat. They had been listening to me speak to her.
I let my thoughts grind forward. “Avin,” I said. “I have a plan.”
27
Arilas Barok Yentif
It was dark and warm where I lay.
Soft lips brushed mine. A hand stroked my cheek.
I gasped from the delightful thrill, and the tip of Dia’s tongue lit across my lips once before she grabbed me by the collar and kissed me with her whole body. Her corset and dress were open, her breasts bare and glorious upon me.
“Are you back?” she asked and shook me.
I wrapped her in my arms. “I am now. Where are we? Let’s get out of the rest of these clothes.”
“No time for that. We’re in the armory. The envoys are already in the hall above. You must get up.”
“The slaves,” I said as I recalled the time before Kyoden possessed me. “What happened?”
“I’ve taken care of that. Get moving.”
I didn’t have much choice. She stood and hoisted me off the floor. I’d been lying on a thin felt rug in the center of the quiet armory. The thick-posted shelves that lined the walls had not been restocked. A small lockbox on one shelf contained the 5,000 silver coins Nace had minted. I dreamt of the day when the shelves would be lined with those boxes and I was free to spend them as I wished.
I yawned and shook away the last of my lethargy. The day’s drama pressed forward.
“Did I see Geart?” I asked and looked around as though he should be standing in the corner.
“You’re a mess,” she said angrily as she inspected my clothes. She covered herself up and whispered hotly toward the door, “Horace, get in here.”
The man appeared with a long knife in hand. He’d cut open her dress as a matter of urgency, I deduced, and was still blushing.
She said angry words at him about the water on my silk robes, but I was having great difficulty paying attention. Her savaged dress was doing a poor job of covering her heaving breasts. Her smell was on me, too, and I could still taste her lips. I was so distracted it took another long moment for me to recognize the red circle on her side as blood.
“You’re cut,” I said and moved to take hold of her.
“Both of you, focus,” she hissed and slapped my hand sharply. “Sergeant, take off your uniform tunic and greencoat. Barok, your robes.”
Her hands outpaced me. She had the outer layer peeled away in moments.
“I can’t wear a uniform,” I protested.
“Hush. What you are not going to do is wear wet, crumpled, and bloodstained robes.”
She snatched the sergeant’s knife and hurried the complicated process of unbinding the next layer by cutting it from collar to the floor in one great slash. What was left was the white and blue linens of my undergarments and the single layer of pearl white dalmatic. She spun me out of the ruined dalmatic, had the collared tunic on and buttoned in moments, and held the heavy overcoat for me. I raced into it.
“Sergeant, find emblems for his shoulders that befit a general,” she said, and he began to search the room.
My thoughts turned full circle as I resigned myself to the wardrobe choice she’d made.
“Geart and Leger, did they succeed?” I asked her. “Was Soma right?”
She nodded. “Yes, but Leger stayed in Almidi and Sahin and his men could not escape. They are on the run through a place called the Halberdon.”
“Of all the stinking backwaters. The Halberdon? You jest.”
“No, but listen, Leger was dismissed as your alsman, and Parsatayn has a bounty out on him. His replacement tried very hard to collect it in Alsonbrey. Leger stayed in Trace to command your army and kept the gold from the tithe. He is raising an army in Almidi to take west into the Oreol.”
She sounded like a lieutenant of scouts. I absorbed the details and felt the sting of the last. “Leger kept the gold? Rotting hell. I needed those coins here.”
“A problem for another time. Selt, Erom, and Gern are upstairs with your new alsman and the rest,” she said and looked across at Sergeant Horace. “You found something?”
He had ahold of a pair of spurs and was working to pry them apart. “We can use the rowels from these,” he said as the first fell free at the cost of his fingers. Dia snatched the iron star and found some thin leather cording.
“Three more,” she said and they fixed the iron stars to my shoulders, two to a side.
“I look like a crazy provincial upstart of a general,” I said but could only approve. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“You’ll apologize to the greencoats after for wearing a coat you didn’t earn,” Dia said, which earned a happy grunt from the old Chaukai.
She pushed me toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. “A kiss.”
“Would a Yentif kiss his wife for good luck?”
“This one would,” I said and took hold of her. She leaned into the kiss before hurrying me out.
Horace led me up to the sounds of Selt exchanging religious pleasantries with someone.
The room turned as I emerged, but for a moment Selt was all I could see. He had found a beam of sunlight to stand in, and what I had thought earlier to be a simple white-linen
warrior’s tunica, proved to be sewn with a regal and subtle silver brocade in the lattice pattern of rose-wrapped spears framing the open eye of Bayen. It was a treasure—a gift most certainly from the prince he’d served before me. He also wore a deep green sash of office trimmed with golden tassels and had hung upon his belt the crude war hammer.
More impressive still was the way he surrendered the room to me. He stepped out of the light, gestured for me to take the spot, and introduced the rest with the formal swiftness of a capital domo.
“Lord Prince, it is my honor to present to you: Buciano Overu, Senior Envoy of our Divine Exaltier; Errati Saristrava, alsman appointed to you by Chancellor Parsatayn; Dekay Nechpee, High Servant of the Conservancy; and Nolumari Dosoti Remorus, Senior Prelate to our Holy Sten.”
With the exception of Dekay, they each bowed as though it were a competition. Each man also rose as if it was clear he should be the first to address me.
I held up my hands like my father would to the vast crowds, and to my surprise they came to a halt as though they were trained snakes. I said to them, “Welcome to Urnedi—”
“Lord Prince,” Errati interjected as only an alsman could. “Your captain has denied me my men. I have dismissed him, but he has refused to depart.”
“You dismissed Captain Gern?”
“I did not ask his name. He is clearly churlish. It is this one here—”
“Can you fly?” I asked him.
“Excuse me?”
“The men in my command are under my authority as the Arilas of Enhedu and lord of these lands, and they act at my instructions. The stairs of this keep are for those who respect this. If you do not, then you will have to find another way down.”
“Lord Prince, the childishness of your mixed breeding is embarrassing. Let’s refrain from this game, if you please. I would only be replaced if you do not wish to obey me.”
I took a step toward him.
“Shut your mouth, sir,” Dekay said with arresting authority. “Your goal here could not be more plain, and it insults the eyes to see so craven a servant interrupt the business of the state.”
Buciano, my father’s envoy, applauded this and whispered, “Vile bounty hunter.”
Gern reacted to these words as though he read my very thoughts. He put himself in between myself and Errati and took hold of his arm. A dagger was suddenly in Errati’s hand, and he stabbed Gern hard and fast upon his left breast. The clank of it against the breastplate beneath his greencoat was almost as loud as the meaty whack of the punch Gern delivered to the man’s jaw. Errati went down, and the dagger clattered to the floor. My captain dragged the unconscious man toward the stairs without a word, and Selt retrieved the dagger.
My father’s man pushed forward into the empty space, and I only just managed to get out the first word. “The four of you have been squabbling the whole way here, haven’t you?”
Dekay proved the swiftest of wit, saying, “Each long day’s journey begins unburdened before the eyes of our Lord Bayen. It is up to each of us to end them just as uncluttered.”
I balked. The expression belonged to Bayen’s Church but carried with it all the sentiment of Adanas. I worried he was making a veiled reference to our efforts to revive Edonia, but he’d said it like any of a hundred pontifications.
“Indeed it does,” Selt said into the momentary pause.
“You have made a study of the prophets?” Dekay asked him genially.
“Khrim Zovi was our finest.”
“Bayen is pleased you think so,” he smiled and spoke over the Sten’s man to say, “I was not expecting to find such men in your service, Lord Prince. Is everyone on your staff so well appointed?”
“No, sir, though we strive to walk his humble path into the light,” I said, using one of the many expressions Selt had been inflicting upon us for two seasons. I stopped regretting my decision to have him do it.
Dekay rewarded us with a genuine smile and was so satisfied he gestured for his counterparts to proceed.
The Sten’s man—a fix-eyed law priest—fit his thumbs into the sides of his tight-fit lawyer’s vest, and his straight-line smile lengthened as he glided forward. But he had forgotten Vall’s man, who was as curt as they came.
“Your sword, Prince Barok,” Buciano said as though this phrase alone was a paralytic. “It matches the description of one that went missing from the Deyalu along with two other weapons and a suit of armor. How did you come by this one?”
“You came all this way to ask that? Nothing missing about them. They were taken from my armory upon the Deyalu.”
He became quite animated. “Your washer woman stole them then? You admit it? This is quite a crime. The banished go without arms.”
“I respect that you must tidy up this palace drama, but as our Exaltier has just tasked me with raising a full division of men-at-arms, anything as trivial as a single sword or person in my service is a matter you would need to address to my alsman or to my father.”
Buciano wilted, and it was telling. My father had not shared the contents of his letter with the envoy. He was not my father’s man at all. He belonged to the court.
He saw my smile but charged farther onto the thick wall of spears. “And the agreements you have struck with your craftsmen? Bessradi would hear the truth of it.”
“A fine topic,” I said and stepped aside for Selt. He launched straight into a detailed explanation of our land and market tax structure. He handed out copies of a seventeen-sheet report and managed to get through the first three.
“How very enlightening all of that was,” the Sten’s man said and stepped in front of Buciano. He asked me, “Where are your priests? I would expect such men to be present. Call them forward. There are many activities here I must call into question.”
“It is not a matter of tardiness for any of them,” I replied. “They traveled to Alsonvale with General Mertone. I am sorry you will not be able to interview them—unless perhaps you will be staying with us? It shouldn’t be any more than ten days until they return.”
“Stay here? No, no, no,” he replied. “What has them to the Kaaryon?”
“A great many things, but in summary, their task is to establish Enhedu as a bonafide member of the Council of Lords: acquire credit, sign agreements with suppliers and merchants, and make contact with those who speak for our neighbors, Heneur and others.”
“Heneur? What are they to you?”
“Same as Trace. They are a trusted neighbor and trading partner.”
Dekay’s expression had changed.
“Coming around are you, sir?” Buciano asked him with a note of triumph. “You see the reasons for concern now?”
“Do not embarrass yourself,” Dekay said. “I could not care less about your petty politics. I am saddened that I will be unable to meet Leger Mertone or the healer Avinda Dooma. Both are men that Minister Sikhek holds in the highest esteem, regardless of the many controversies that encumber them. It had been my hope to convey his compliments to them both personally.”
I could hardly believe my ears. Neither could the nolumari. His face was full of wrath, and he raised his arms in preparation of a great blast of words.
“And you can dispense with all the theatrics, Your Grace,” Dekay said. “You came to learn how to kill Hessier, nothing more—same as you, Buciano.
“Lord Prince, could you show these fine gentlemen how you killed the Hessier? Neither have been empowered to do anything more than bring back the answer to the question. You can save yourself a great deal of trouble by skipping ahead to whatever demonstration you have ready.”
“An excellent notion,” I replied with the most beneficent smile ever seen upon the face of a prince. “I have two Hessier on the roof now who I mean to kill. Follow me if you would care to see how it is done.”
They raced up the stairs after me, firing questions that I happily ignored.
The tall parapet that surrounded the wide square of roof was as crowded as I’d ever seen it.
Twenty militiamen and a troop of guardsmen waited there with all manner of bow and arrow. They shared the space with the framings, materials, and tools. Gone were the rotting timber posts along the wall that had made the keep seem haunted. Thick cedar posts rose in their place and were due to be extended up toward the center. On the far side of the roof stood two battered sets of Hessier armor.
My guests filed out. None commented on the quality of the joke I had played on them. I thought it was hilarious.
The Sten’s man was taking note of our efforts to replace the keep’s cupola. Buciano did not lose focus. “Militia? Do you seriously mean to suggest that you killed Hessier and defeated an army of 14,000 with militia?”
“Do not let their appearance confuse you. My militia is not a body of men taken from the fields with nothing but sticks. They are properly trained and equipped better than most standing armies.”
“A bow does not constitute equipment,” he said curtly.
I ignored this and ordered the guardsmen to take aim and fire. Buciano hastily withdrew. Their ash short bows twanged, and the arrows glanced off the Hessier plate.
“Those would be the type of bows you are familiar with,” I said. “Accurate, but weak. What we have in Enhedu is something else altogether. Selt, if you please.”
“Militia, ready,” Selt shouted crisply, and the twenty men set arrows and drew as though each was powered by the same relentless mill wheel. “Aim. Fire!”
The thunderous shock downrange jolted the suits up into the air like startled chickens. Only three shafts glanced off, and the suits toppled over in a tremendous clatter of tortured metal.
Buciano said to no one in particular, “You killed them with arrows.”
I shrugged. “The bows do the work, in truth.”
“Let me see that,” he said to Selt.
Selt handed over his bow, and the man gave the weapon a careful look. “It is made of two different woods?”
“Mulberry and yew,” I said. “Sapwood on the inside, hardwood on the outside—though none of the ones I have made are of this quality.”
Forgotten Stairs Page 11
