by Micah Yongo
Neythan’s turn to nod and think.
Arianna looked at the grass again, trying to remember anything else. She laughed to herself.
“What?”
“Strangest thing was… well… one night I followed him. I’d thought he might meet a vassal from Hikramesh who’d visited with the sharíf the day before. So I follow him. He goes along toward the city baths where his cornerhouse is. I’m expecting him to stop there, as is his custom when meeting these people, but he doesn’t. He continues on to the east quarter and stops at a brothel instead, a whorehouse… I mean, the man is old, Neythan. I was told he was once cupbearer to Sharíf Kosyatin. He must be at least ninety years. Maybe older. You’d not think him… well… able… What? I’m just being honest. At that age you don’t think a man can–”
“No. It’s not that. The elder.”
“What elder?”
Neythan stared hard at the ground. “I was in Hanesda, during a new moon. I went to a brothel.”
“You went to a brothel?”
“It wasn’t like that. I was… Just listen. One of the harlots there told me she’d seen an elder once.”
“What would a harlot know of elders?”
“No, I mean she saw a woman, but an old woman, well aged, frail, and blind, but like one who could see. The way she moved, the girl said, was like one who could see. She said that had she not seen the woman’s eyes for herself she’d have not thought her blind.”
Arianna understood. “Elder Safít?”
“She described her likeness, at least from what I can remember. I’d taken wine.”
“You’d taken wine? What’s happened to you? What else have you been up to?”
“I had no choice… I… Look. Never mind that. Think about what I am saying. For Safít to depart Ilysia is forbidden. She is Eye to the Brotherhood, sworn to abide the temple. To consort with anyone other than Shedaím would defile her visions. For her to be in Hanesda, and in a brothel of all places…”
“She’d never go to such a place. No Shedaím would. Apart from you, it seems.”
“But that is what any Shedaím would know and say. What better place to keep yourself from being seen by those of the Brotherhood? What better place would there be to meet with someone you’d not want it known you’d met?”
“Elias. The chamberlain.”
“Exactly. Elias.”
“But why would they meet?”
“I don’t know.”
“So we take him? Question him?”
“We’ve stirred a hornets’ nest now. He’ll be at the sharíf’s side, right at the heart of it.”
“So, what then?”
“Ilysia,” Neythan said. “We go to Ilysia.”
“You’ve just said you think it likely Safít has met with a member of the sharíf’s house, a forbidden act. And I’ve just told you Yannick’s decree to kill me was given by the elders. And you want us to go to Ilysia? More peril lies there than here.”
“No. The Shedaím hunt us now. There will be no Brothers there.”
“What do you mean, they hunt us?”
Neythan paused. “Yannick is not the only Shedaím to have fallen. There have been others.”
“What others? How many?”
“I don’t know. Many, I think. Maybe six. Seven perhaps.”
“Seven? How?”
“I don’t know.”
“And they think it is us? The Brotherhood. They think we could do that?”
“Yes… I thought you had done it.”
“But I have been here.”
“Yes, I know. I believe you. That’s the problem.”
“And now believing me is a problem?”
“Yes… No. You don’t understand. All this time I’d thought it was you. I didn’t have to think of how or by what means. I’d seen what you did to Yannick. It made sense to think you were somehow finding the others and doing the same. That you’re not means there’s some other who is. Some other hunting Shedaím, hunting us, slaying Brothers one by one.”
Arianna sat there, taking it in. She stood again, pacing around the small clearing where they’d been sitting. And then, abruptly, she shrugged. “You know what? I don’t care. The Shedaím have made themselves my enemy. If anything, this heretic is my friend.”
Neythan shook his head. “That’s just it. I’m not so certain it is a heretic.”
She stopped pacing and faced him. “There’s none but a Brother who’d be able to do what you say has been done, Neythan. If there was, we’d know. The Shedaím would know.”
“Perhaps they do.”
“If that’s true, then why hunt us?”
“I don’t know. Why decree for Yannick to kill you?”
Arianna thought about it. None of it made sense.
Neythan looked at the sky. The house-shaped cloud had passed on. “It will be dark soon. We’ll need a fire to sleep by.”
“Sleep? Here?”
“We can’t leave yet.”
“Why not? They will soon discover we’re not in the city. I’d rather not be here when they do.”
“They will think us far away by then. They won’t hunt us here in the forest.”
“Why take the chance?”
“We need to wait for someone.”
“Who?”
“A friend. He’s still inside. We need to wait until they open the gates again. He’ll know I’m waiting for him.”
“You told him that?”
“No. But he’ll know.”
Arianna stared at him.
“We need to wait for him.”
“Fine,” she said finally. “One night.”
“And then we go to Ilysia.”
Arianna’s look was dubious.
“There will be no fruit in seeking Elias,” Neythan said. “He and the sharíf will be surrounded by an army after today, and there is no guarantee of answers with him even if he were not. Ilysia is where we will find the elders. It is where we will learn the truth.”
“And you would enter the temple?”
“I will,” Neythan said. He rose to his feet and went toward the fringes of the clearing and began to forage for firewood.
Arianna just looked at him. “You’ve changed.” Which made Neythan stop and look back at her. “I think I like you better this way,” she said.
Neythan gave a brief uncertain smile.
Arianna just stood there appraising him, and then turned to the thickets to gather more wood. Neythan did likewise.
Thirty-Four
G E L E D
Daneel shifted uneasily in the saddle.
“Bones, brother… A man ought never to be able to feel the bones in his own arse.”
Josef said nothing.
“How long have we been riding for?”
Josef shrugged. “About two weeks.”
“I have blisters there, you know. Several.”
Josef glanced at him and then back to the road.
The terrain curled upwards to the east; dry sunbaked shale leaning against the horizon on one side. Daneel had spied wild goats standing amongst the loose footing and grazing on tough sprouts of whatever rare vegetation was able to survive these surroundings. He spat to the side and surveyed the distance to this latest crest in the highway, perhaps a mile or more. How long to the next village, he didn’t know. They’d been five days in the open country since the last one. What he wouldn’t give for roasted meat, but the goats were too far up the shaled slope, out of range of his bow, and he doubted his horse could find footing up there anyway. He glanced ahead to the other two Shedaím further up the road, Salidor sitting tall in his saddle with Jasinda riding beside him.
“We should never have come by this road, Josef, you know that as well as I do. Salidor keeps this up and I’ll have nought but scabs and saddlesores for a seat. Hey, Salidor and saddlesore, they rhyme. Perhaps he’s named after it.”
“It’s not that bad,” Josef said.
“Not that bad? Tell it to my arse. We should hav
e gone by the townships along the ivory pass, but no, Salidor says they’d delay us too long. Then through the hilltowns by the Calapaari Sea, but no, they’re ‘full of inbreds and…’ What did he say again?”
“Fishmonkeys.”
“Fishmonkeys. What under the sun is a fishmonkey?”
Josef only shrugged.
“That there’d be meat on them would be enough for me. Mouldy bread and locusts for three days now. I need a proper meal.”
“The locusts weren’t bad.”
“I’m of a mind to cut the man and quarter his horse.”
“That’s not funny, Dan.”
“You think I’m joking?”
“It’s not funny.”
Daneel muttered darkly and squinted at the horizon. Salidor and Jasinda had come to a stop by the crest ahead.
“Besides,” Josef said, as they strode their horses up the sloping road to join them, “you’d be the same.” He looked at his brother. “If you were in his place.”
“I’d never be this blindly pigheaded.”
“Really? If I was killed and it was given to you to hunt the one who did it, you’d be all peace and calm?”
“I didn’t say that. But neither would I do this. We’re weakening ourselves for no reason. Say we were to happen upon Neythan and Ari here, now, we’d be too weak to face them… and us going about like this, the four of us together like children, the whole thing is ridiculous. How can Gahíd mean for us to find them this way? Better to send us off in twos, cover more land.”
“He fears to lose any more Shedaím.”
“Yes, that he does. He fears it more than he seeks Neythan and Ari… I won’t complain though.”
“You just did.”
“Well, I shan’t any longer. After all, what will we do if we do find them?”
Josef didn’t answer.
Jasinda was walking back toward them from the crest. Salidor had come to a stop ahead of them where the road fell away. It was beginning to rain.
“The two of you,” she said as she approached, looking them over. “You’re always whispering. Like handmaidens.”
Josef ignored the barb and gestured to Salidor behind her with a jut of his chin. “Why has he stopped?”
“The path ahead is steep,” she said. “There’s a pond on the other side where we can water the horses. You’ll need to steady them for the descent.”
“The horses need to rest,” Daneel said.
Jasinda appraised him lazily and leaned over and spat. “You should not think them as fragile as you. They will rest at the pond below, where they can drink.”
“What’s the delay?” Salidor had come trotting back to them from the bluff. He came to a stop beside Jasinda.
“The boy wants to rest,” she said.
“Rest?” Salidor’s large craggy head angled toward the twins. Stubbly grey scalp, his eyes bruised from lack of sleep. “Rest, you say?”
Daneel sighed heavily. “I simply suggested–”
“Suggest? Yes. As well you might, seeing it’s not the blood of your kin that awaits justice.”
“We seek the same justice, Salidor,” Josef said. “But Daneel is right. The horses tire. And the way down is steep.”
“You seek only comfort, seeing that Sha’id was neither your blood nor sharím.”
“We are each of the Brotherhood. Let us not forget our–”
“Forget? Forget, you say? No. I have neither the comfort nor luxury of forgetting. The brother of my mother’s womb is dead.”
“You misunderstand me.”
“No. No it is you who do not understand, though I wager you would, one of you at least, were you to learn the same grief I have. Perhaps I should acquaint you with it.”
“What?”
But Salidor had already turned, walking his horse back up toward the bluff’s edge.
Jasinda sniffed. “I think he means for us to go down now,” she said. “Rest later.” Then to Daneel, “Calm yourself.” She nodded at his hand, clasping the hilt of his sword by his belt. “Salidor is only talk. It is the grief that speaks, not him.”
They went down the bluff as the rain fell. The horses’ hooves skated over the loose rocks, their hindquarters shuddering and their forehooves stabbing and pawing at the damp ground as they went down. In the end they stayed no more than half an hour at the pond as the rain hardened, flinging down fat heavy drops and turning the dirt soupy. They continued on. The rain hammered down until it got so Daneel was too wearied by it to complain about his rear.
“We’re not far now,” Salidor barked through the steady slapping applause of the downpour. “Just beyond this hill and we’ll see the city. We’ll of course bed for the night. We have a pigfarmer there, if you can believe such a thing.”
“A pigfarmer?” Daneel asked. The normal practice of the Shedaím was to keep an innkeeper, very occasionally a smith, so their weaponry could be replaced or maintained alongside having bed and shelter.
“I know,” Salidor shrugged, sharing Daneel’s gripe. “Stinks of the beasts too.” He turned, half-smiled, half-grimaced through the rain. “But the food will be good though.”
Daneel smiled at that. “Meat?”
“That’s right, and plenty of it.”
Daneel decided he may be able to forgive the man his stubbornness after all. Shelter, a fire, and meat would be decent consolation for the sticky pinching chafe of his saddle. He decided to be civil. “You’ve stayed there often?”
“Some. I have a place near Çyriath, a small homestead. Rare I have a decree south of Parses, so I keep myself there. When I am to come further north, I stay here in Geled. Not a bad place. The Sovereignty’s northernmost city, you know. They say when Theron the Great took it he did so expecting to launch campaigns from there into the Reach.” Salidor laughed. “Wasn’t enough for him to have taken these lands from the Kivites, he wanted to take the territories they were fleeing to as well. Anyway, not a bad place, as I say. Strong fort. And far enough away from the crown city to not be meddled with by Sovereign consuls too often.” He glanced back at them over his shoulder. “It can be that way for some of us, you see. In the lands where the Shedaím find no trustworthy ranger they keep a Brother and have him stay instead, learn the place, know it. We can never be as rangers of course, our faces cannot be known, but we can play half the part of spy nonetheless. Brothers like me, we just watch. Like when you are to fulfil a decree, but longer.”
“I didn’t know there were any like that.”
“There are few… since the crimes of your friends, even fewer. But the few of us there were, were mostly here in Calapaar. Likely there’d be one or two to the south too, near Súnam perhaps. You’ll find no trustworthy ranger there either.”
“Why not?”
“Well… everyone has a tale for that. Some say the Súnamite queen knows the Shedaím’s business. That she’s familiar with our ways, or if not, at least aware we are more than rumour.”
“You think that’s true?”
“Who’s to say? I just do what I’m bid in my own quarter. And my quarter isn’t Súnam. It’s here in this cold and rain… Perhaps one day you’ll know an answer for yourself. If they make you as I am, to abide in one place. If they do, the place they’ll have you is the border of Súnam, or near it. Have no doubt of that.”
“What’s the furthest north you’ve been?”
Salidor pushed the air through his cheeks. “You may as well know sooner than later, a Brother’s business doesn’t know the same borders as a soldier’s. I’ve seen more than a few Kivites in my years, shed the blood of more than a few too.”
“They send you into the Wetlands, beyond the Reach?”
“They send wherever trouble’s found. And plenty of it can be found in Kiv. They send me or some other to cut the weed before it sprouts. But the problem with a weed, is that it’s a weed. You can cut all you want, but until you uproot it or burn the thing whole it’ll keep coming up again. It keeps me busy enough, put it that way.
”
“Why? What trouble is there?”
“What trouble isn’t? What trouble won’t ever be? They think they have claim to land that’s no longer theirs, and the lands they live in are scarce, and barren mostly. There’ll not be a day come that they don’t seek sovereign lands for as long as they remain. No. More chance telling a man not to seek food for his stomach. Theirs are ugly lands, and they raise a people who are the same, like nettles and ivy together, built to endure, and one way or the other they’ll prick the hand of the one who says they can’t. And that’s the trouble. Because they’ve no head or root. No matter where you cut, in the same place, what was cut soon returns. Like I said, keeps me busy enough.”
They carried on through the rain to the shallow hill’s edge, Salidor warming to his stories, as did Daneel and Josef to listening to them. They were a comfort against the rain, something else other than the relentless wet chill to think about. After a while Salidor went on to telling jokes, the kind Daneel found funny but Josef didn’t. It was perhaps because of this that Josef saw it first, then a beat later, the others, their laughter halting abruptly and giving way to the loud silence of the rain as they stood atop the hill overlooking what lay in the broad lowland beneath.
In the distance below them the city smouldered, ash black ruins and lingering clouds of greasy low-hung smoke, like mist, but darker, settled about the broken rubbled walls of what used to be Geled. The once-tall watchtower lay halfway upended, like a snapped twig, collapsed in a heap of blackened stone in front of the now missing city gates.
“What by my fathers…” Jasinda’s voice trailed off.
The rest didn’t speak at all.
From this vantage they could see how the east wall had been smashed in, caving back on itself, and how it was the only one of the city walls that even vaguely resembled what it had once been. The others were piles of stone, mere humps like giant graves, settled about the city’s edges like long lumps of charcoal.
It was Salidor who moved first, nudging his horse forward and down the gentle slope into the muddy basin. The entire sodden plain seemed to jump and ripple as meaty slaps of rain pounded the drenched earth. The others followed, their horses’ hooves sliding in the mud as they went down toward the destroyed city.
