“Councilman Lant,” Grek Occoju said, welcoming Lant into the council chamber. “As you have called this special session, the floor is yours.”
Lant leaned forward a little, pressing his fingertips against the smooth, shiny surface of the room’s large conference table. “The last time the Council met, it was to discuss the loss of Son-Velaan Bredo. There is...information regarding his capture that I did not give the Council at that time.”
“His capture?” Grek Occoju said. “We thought he was killed in the battle.”
“He would have been killed by the Ka’ull, but it was not in the battle.”
Voices broke here and there around the chamber.
“He was captured,” Lant continued. “But it is not that omission which concerns me. What concerns me, is this: the Ka’ull would have questioned him before they slew him. That is why they took him alive.”
This time, only silence filled the room, until Grek said, “We don’t know what, if anything, he told them.”
Lant nodded. “True. But I’m assuming the worst. I’m assuming he told them what they wanted to know.”
“And what would that have been?” Grek asked.
“Our nature. Our way of life. Our resources. What kind of fighting force or military we have.”
“That all seems common enough,” Moer Ta’leer said.
“What is ‘common’ for us is all the information they need,” Lant replied.
Councilman Fu Breeal knocked his knuckles against the table studiously. “What does this mean, other than the obvious: That we should have disbanded the Cant revolutions ago. The fact that Son-Cawutt Wing has consistently refused to join the Cant should have been a sign to us — Merehr does not approve of it.”
They were heavy words, but the sentiment within the Council had been there from the beginning.
“Just as we should have disallowed Son-Cawutt Nien’s position in the Cant as soon as he returned from Quieness,” another Councilman said. “Had he not been their leader, none of them would have gone down into a strange valley, much less joined a battle.”
“The Councilman is right,” Brauth Vanc said. “Going to Quieness emboldened Nien beyond reason, desensitizing him to the point of rushing headlong into something he had no business being in.”
Lant didn’t let Brauth finish. “The Cant Leaders did exactly what they’ve been training to do.”
“Foolish, rash boys,” Councilman Cuiku spat under his breath.
Lant caught Cuiku’s eyes. “Yes,” he said, “they joined the battle. Yes, at battle’s end Son Velaan-Bredo was not found. But even had they not gone, had Bredo not been taken, there is still this one outstanding problem: We are a small valley. We will not be able to withstand a force such as the Ka’ull represent.”
“We have all mourned Son Velaan’s loss,” Councilman Sk’i Yinut said. “Thankfully, Jayak is far from here.”
“Jayak is not so far.”
“Far enough.”
“Do you know how far away it is, truly? I’ll tell you: A man can make the trip in less than a turn. An army only a little more.”
“The Jayakans are strong. They’ll take care of the problem.”
“Maybe they can. But it’s in the details, gentleman. Son-Cawutt Nien reported that the Ka’ull retreated. That is something we need to consider. Perhaps the battle was a test of Jayakan strength. Perhaps the Ka’ull are not yet prepared in this hemisphere to face a foe as formidable as the Jayakans. In other words, the Jayakans’ strength could mean our downfall.”
“How so?” Councilman Ne’taan asked sincerely.
“As an invasion force, the Ka’ull will need a base of operations here, in the mid-valleys. If the Jayakans prove too much for their present forces they will choose another valley, a smaller valley, and from there they will organize incursion of the larger.”
“Then why not Legran?” Tael Ruke suggested.
“Why not Legran? Why not us? Why not all of us? For it will be all of us, eventually, even Quieness. If we’re not next, we will follow. It’s inevitable.”
“Nothing is inevitable,” Councilman Breeal replied. “Eosha said that we would have both the truth and the protection of Wing Merehr.”
Lant felt the cold, awesome weight of Breeal’s last words. “Wing,” he said thickly, “has never said anything to us of these matters.”
“He will, when the time is right.”
“Perhaps,” Councilman Tael Ruke said, “all this happened because we lost faith in Merehr, in the word of the Ancient Writings. We allowed the creation of an army, and sure enough, it has brought death and discord.”
“It isn’t Bredo’s death that should worry you, Councilman. I tell you now, we will all die on the sword of misapprehension if we do nothing.”
The chill in Lant’s voice had the same effect on the room.
Some of the members shifted in their seats. Others rubbed their arms as if to warm themselves.
“It may be that Son-Cawutt Wing is testing our resolve,” Fu Breeal said.
“Are the passages in the Ancient Writings concerning the Leader the only ones we should regard?” Lant asked. “Are there no others we honour?” Lant stepped to retrieve the Council chamber’s copy of the Ancient Writings. Flipping it open, he read, “ ‘Be prepared. Prepare your children, your homes, your people…’ ” Lant laid the book down heartily. “ ‘Your people.’ ” He looked around the room. “Are we? Do we fool ourselves? Will we do so until it is too late?”
“Your idea of preparation, Councilman, is different than ours. You see it as a matter of military strength, we see it as a matter of spiritual fortitude.”
“I believe there are many ways to prepare,” Lant said. “And right now, not one should be overlooked.”
Grek Occoju sat forward in his seat. “What is it you are proposing, Councilman?”
Lant took a deep mental breath. “I am proposing that we take into consideration, even vote upon, Rieeve entering into an alliance with the other valleys.”
For an instant silence fell — the time it takes for an astonished mind to cognate what the ears have heard — and then ten voices raised at once. It took Grek standing and calling for quiet to silence them.
As the din settled, Tael Ruke requested to speak.
“Go ahead, Councilman,” Grek said.
To Lant, Tael spoke. “Though I wish now that we, as a Council, would have done many things differently, Son-Velaan Bredo is gone and the Cant is here. So, as long as we keep the Cant here, I say we allow it to do what it was meant to do: Protect Rieeve.”
Tiredly, Lant said, “The Cant, no matter how well-trained and well-armed, could not stand against the Ka’ull. You do not know them. You are not aware of their numbers, their strength, nor the depth of their hate.” Lant paused. “I have heard members of this Council admit that the Cant would not be enough to withstand what is coming.”
“I am quite sure your intentions are good, Councilman Lant, but you cannot, out of fear, expect us to break our custom of hundreds of revolutions by forming an alliance with another valley — an action that would see the undoing of not only our way of life, but that of our children and our children’s children.”
“Fear?” Lant asked incredulously. “Well,” he said, almost laughingly, “at least in that much we agree — it is fear. Fear of the other valleys that has become a barrier so impenetrable that I doubt even my best desires and the feet of my messengers will be able to cross it!”
“Messengers?” Councilman Moer Ta’leer said.
Lant felt the heat of his next heartbeat. “I have dispatched three messengers to Legran, Jayak, and Quieness. That news is the reason I called this session of the Council.”
A consecutive fall of gasps checkered the room.
“With what message?” Grek asked, his voice tight with an edge uncustomary for the normally composed Spokesman.
“An outline of my own desires and that of the Cant, as well as a request for their support in an effort to
unite the valleys.”
Three Council members shot to their feet, their arms jerking wildly against their bodies. The rest sat their seats trancelike, as if glued there by some invisible substance.
Breeal, one of the three on their feet, shouted, “People don’t change. With you, as with Son-Cawutt Nien, we have made mistake after mistake, offered dispensation, been forgiving, and been repaid every time, like this!”
“It doesn’t matter. Without the support of the Council it will never see fruition,” Brauth Vanc said imperiously.
“Or do you mean to turn this into a War Council? Is that in your plans, Commander Lant, to establish yourself and your Cant as the government in Rieeve?” Cuiku said.
The council room grew quiet. Though Cuiku had a penchant for paranoia his last words still shocked the room.
The look of disbelief on Lant’s face faded quickly. “I sent the messengers from the members of the Cant, doing so as Commander of the Cant.”
“Which, until the recent case of Son-Cawutt Nien, was not independent of the Council,” Grek said. “Do you now plan to take it one step further? Do you have in mind to supplant the Council with the Cant?”
Lant’s shoulders slumped as if Grek’s words had pierced the air from his lungs. “Never has it entered my mind to have one replace the other. The Cant exists only to help the people of Rieeve — to serve them. If the people wish this not to be the case...”
“ — it’s not that. We have all been in support of the Cant…”
“Until now,” Cuiku interjected.
Grek ignored him, continuing, “It was our thought that the existence of the one precluded the necessity of the other — we will not unite with another valley.”
Lant sighed. “The Cant is seven-thousand strong. Can you imagine a force of hundreds of thousands? Our entire population is smaller than the number of men in their armies.”
Everyone fell quiet. Per protocol, Grek was the first to speak again. “We should have been informed beforehand of the messengers and the message you sent. You have already tried to force a separation of Cant and Council authority over our exclusion of Son-Cawutt Nien. The news you’ve given us today, this breach of trust, requires your suspension from this Council.” Grek did not even raise his eyes from the smooth surface of the council room table. “We will discuss this matter further in two days.
“Adjourned.”
Nien dragged into the house that night in the same mood he’d found Lant in when he’d stopped by after the Cant training day to see how the Council meeting had gone.
All the family had gone off to bed except for Wing, who sat at the family table, working on his transcription of the Ancient Writings.
“E’te,” he said quietly as Nien came in.
Nien grabbed some food off the counter and sat down at the table across from Wing. Wing glanced up from his ledger. “What is it?”
Nien bit off a hunk of bread, holding a piece of cheese in his other hand. “They suspended Lant from the Council.”
The writing brush Wing held in his hand tilted absently toward the table. “Why?”
“Because of the messengers he sent to the other valleys.”
“I’m sorry,” Wing said.
“Lant said it’s a small price to pay if even one of the other valleys agrees to an alliance.”
Wing placed the brush back in its ink bowl. There was a long silence. “If I joined the Cant, Nien, they might reinstate Lant.”
Nien looked up at Wing.
More silence.
“We need his voice on the Council,” Wing said.
“They want you on the Council, Wing.”
Nien noticed it was difficult for Wing to swallow, as if something were burning in his throat.
“Well, whatever it takes.”
“What?”
Wing’s eyes were fixed on the table. “We’re running out of options, Nien. Even if I have to lie, pretend to be...”
“Wing,” Nien said, “they expect the Leader to perform miracles. Call down armies from heaven or whatever.”
Nien could not have described Wing’s tone as he said: “I know.”
“No, Wing. No. There’s got to be another way.”
“There is,” Wing said. “I leave Rieeve.”
There it was. The room went cold. Nien waited, but there didn’t seem to be any more to say.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Nien said.
“It’s the one Rhegal made. And I’ve known, for some time now, why he did.”
“No,” Nien said. “Still a terrible idea.”
“Nien, listen. If I left the people would stop looking to me to solve…everything. They would have no choice then but to listen to Lant, to, perhaps, try and open communications with the other valleys. That is what is needed, what is necessary. But with me here…”
Nien had begun shaking his head. What Wing was saying felt impossible, like finding out that one of them had a terminal illness. There had to be another way. “No, Wing.”
Wing sighed heavily. “Nien…”
“No. You go. I go. That’s it. All right?”
“Nien,” Wing said, clearly exasperated, “you are a help here. Commander Lant needs you. The Cant needs you. You are one of Rieeve’s greatest assets. Me, well, my staying here only endangers our people.” There was a nervousness in Wing and Nien could feel that his brother was about to say something even worse. Nien had seen Wing on the edge like this before but each time, just as Nien thought Wing might say what was on his mind, he’d stop, keeping his silence. This time, however, he spoke. “I was preparing to leave, before you got back from Quieness. I was laying up the last rows of Teeana and few early rows of challak. I was planning on leaving Rieeve before Kive fest.”
Nien looked at him. “So why didn’t you?”
Wing shrugged. “Because I wasn’t fast enough. Kive fest snuck up on me. And then, well, you came back.”
Nien stood up, clenching his fists. There was enough passion, enough fear, enough anger in him to have clubbed Wing unconscious and tied him up in the barn to keep him from leaving, or until he came to his senses. But as he moved some of the shock and frustration drained and he said, “If you had left before I’d gotten back I would have gone looking for you.” He turned, looking at Wing across the room. “And I will tell you now: If I wake up and find you gone I will come after you. I swear it, Wing. I will not stop. You leave. I leave. I promise it.”
Wing met his eyes then. They were at deep odds. Nien felt his body trembling, shaking as if he’d just been dragged from a freezing lake. But there was only sadness and despair in his brother’s eyes.
“There has to be another way,” Nien said.
“There isn’t,” Wing said.
To Nien, Wing suddenly looked as if he were drowning in fire. Still, Nien would not release him from it. There was no way he would let Wing just vanish as the man Rhegal had. “I returned from Quieness,” Nien said, his voice pressed thin, “to stand here in Rieeve, with you.”
Eye to eye, each a perfect mirror of the other, the brothers sat in silence, the big roof over their heads like a fortification, the last thing standing between them and the mysterious and terrible future they could not see.
Perhaps, Nien thought, I am making a mistake. But I don’t care. I don’t. I won’t have him leave, disappear, never to see him again. No. No way.
In the wild, throbbing silence he and Wing remained, taking one another in, waiting for the other to give.
Wing’s face softened then, but not with relief. There was in his eyes an unfathomable sadness that stretched into a great grey distance.
“Don’t give up, Wing,” Nien said at last. “Please don’t give up. There is a way through this, I know it, there has to be.”
“I wanted to believe that, Nien. When you left I thought it would be the end of me because I believed that as long as we were together we could solve anything — including this.” He looked up then. “But I can’t see through this, Nien. I can�
�t.”
Nien stepped over and placed his hand on Wing’s shoulder. “We will,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “As long as you stay, we’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 40
A Boy, a Butler, and a Horse
P ree K entered the streets of the greatest city on their continent, Cao, determined not to spend even one night in it. From above, the city had looked like a swarming of honey-insects in a crosscut of their underground tunnels. Now, not more than a sunstep off the mountain, the streets of the huge city had already swallowed him like a half-starved snake.
Pressing his way through the tangle of shops and buildings, he hoped desperately that he would not get turned around and emerge only to find himself having made such an effort in the wrong direction.
But the buildings were enormous, above them he could not see the mountains and so had no reference point for his direction of travel.
Stepping from the street onto a sidewalk fronting a group of small brick-laid shops, Pree K thought to ask a shop owner where he was and how to proceed to the Palaces, when he was met by a blow to the face. The punch sent him sailing off the sidewalk back into the street amidst a string of cursing from above.
“Highnock!” a woman’s voice screeched. “Get out here!”
“Old higah,” a man spat back.
Eyes watering profusely, Pree K shook his head and looked up. Through his blurred vision, he saw a man stepping off the sidewalk toward him. “Sorry, kid. Here, lemme help you.”
Into Pree K’s face the man shoved a hand permanently stained with dirt.
Pree K didn’t accept it.
“Ah, it ain’t nothin’. She’s just a little hot tempered,” the man said, using the thumb of the dirty hand as an indicator, pointing back through the store window.
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