“Your White Lady is cruel. She burns people and stains the rest when they die.”
“She is not. The darkness is another spirit—that of the Shadow. He is the cold and the dark, and He wishes to destroy the White Lady and the world. She wishes the world to be joined and calm. You have felt it? Seen it? The struggle between them?”
“I have, but not as you describe. When I close my eyes I can see the light and the darkness in people. You are very dark and damaged, like the general.”
“And me?” Rahan demanded.
“Strong and bright,” I said and turned back to Avin. “How can you serve this White Lady when you are so stained? Can you see it, too, the darkness in people?”
“Not like you can,” he said. “But I know what you speak of from another like you. I have studied magic my entire life. And for many years there was very little to be found. Until days ago, Sikhek and the Hessier who ruled this city hunted and murdered anyone with strong magic. It was the fortunate of my life to meet a man named Geart whose magic was strong like yours. He and I escaped them and he grew strong in a place far to the north called Enhedu—strong enough to defeat them.”
“That is where Corwin was from.”
“Yes, Emi, and it was in Enhedu that we began to find others who had magic. Men and women like Corwin.”
“And Lady Soma?”
“That’s right. We found Soma in Enhedu—or perhaps I should say, she found us, away from the Hessier and away from the darkness.”
Rahan tapped Avin on the shoulder and whispered. “Ask her what songs she can sing.”
The old priest and I looked up at him, and I noticed for the first time how young he was. Younger than as Benjam for sure.
“I don’t know any songs. I have heard many, but they all sound like mumbling to me. I would sing a song that heals the entire world if I knew the words to make it happen. I cannot touch the light or the dark in people. I can see it, and can I make the small songs of others into big ones.”
Rahan let out a small strangled sound and looked off into the corner. Avin closed his eyes and frowned. Their silence made me nervous.
“You hoped I was something else.”
“Yes, Emi,” Rahan said. “The White Lady needs singers. More than a body needs blood or food, she needs strong singers.”
Avin’s asked him, “How many days did it take us to figure this out?”
“Of all the reports we have of her, only Captain Benjam and Master Pickesh told us the truth. You didn’t see her magic nor did the Chaukai.”
“None of us are trained to listening for singers like the Conservancy priests. They might be able to detect her. We cannot.”
Rahan was pacing once again.
Avin said to me, “Captain Benjam said you wished to be a scout. Is that true?”
This stopped Rahan and he looked down at me.
I stood up and said to them, “Benjam and his men do a lot of bleeding trying to count things for you. I promised him I would do the counting so he could stay safe. Can I count for you so that they don’t have to bleed anymore?”
Avin answered for him. “Dear Emi, you are welcome to stay here and count for us as long as you wish.”
Rahan was confused by this. “You want to stay? But you didn’t agree to either of the proposals.”
His question made me angry, and I ignored it. “The wounded from the Warrens—will you let them and the priests cross the bridge so they can be healed?”
“We can do better than that,” Avin said. “I have healers here that I can put at your disposal each morning. They are better men than the cretins in the Warrens who tried to keep you to themselves.”
“And you will not charge a toll for crossing the bridge. Ever.”
Avin stood and took a step back from my anger.
Rahan’s confused look slowly went away. “You were born in the Warrens. That explains why you told Arilas Opan no. I’d been led to believe you were from a family of a Kuetish priests and that you would be glad for the marriage.”
“I said no because I did not want to marry I have not met. Would you want to marry a stranger?”
Avin took Rahan’s arm and pulled him back another step. “As long as I am live there will never be a toll upon a bridge in Bessradi.”
“Good,” I said, but got the feeling he was working very hard to calm me down. I liked what he had said though.
“Perhaps you would join us for a meal? I worry what else we have gotten wrong about the Warrens. We would be forever in your debt for an education. Perhaps we can find a nice spot with chairs and a proper table?”
Sitting on the stone had hurt his old legs, though not as much as he was letting on.
He was trying to make me laugh and it was working. “A nice wide tale?”
“We have tables wider than you have ever seen,” he said. “We’ll have to send messengers back and forth, they are so big. We could find you a room here in the tower, too, if you wish.”
“Would I get my own bed? I’ve never slept on a bed before.”
“Why, what a terrible thing. I take so much for granted. Yes, of course you will have your own bed. What do you say Rahan, to Emi joining us here?”
Rahan nodded his head but was looking down at the map that had been left behind. “How far away can you count people?”
“The whole city,” I said.
Avin laughed at him. “That meal might have to wait until you’ve counted a few things for him, I think.”
Rahan heard this well enough, looked relieved for the first time, and called for Captain Benjam to come help us.
I was so happy, I had to bat away tears.
14
King Barok Vesteal
The 31st of Autumn, 1196
Dame Vala strode into my tent with Thell in tow, and I was startled again by how fit everyone was. The stoop of her back was gone, and the toss of gray hair which had once hidden her double chin and wrinkled neck was braided back to reveal a stout profile. Geart’s magic had been profound.
She took one look at me and frowned. “Oh my dear boy, stop pacing and put away your sword. This tent is too small for it.”
Gern said, “Lilly didn’t come again this morning.”
“She didn’t, did she? We’ll see about that. She knows how fragile Barok is in the morning. Has he started breaking things?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re humor is not helping,” I said to them and tried to weather their combined looks.
I sheathed my sword.
She kissed my cheek and used her apron to wipe a smear of applesauce from my sleeve and another from my chin. I’d noticed neither and thanked her with a hug.
“Are you going to Heneur with Fana?” she asked.
“You are the fifth person to ask. I have told her no twice and my answer will not change.”
She shrugged and noticed the empty space on the far side of the tent. “Where is your Alsman?”
“Errati asked for leave to get married. He’ll be away for a few days.”
“How could he have found the time? And why not get married here? I am offended. Who did he find?”
“Fleur,” Thell said and patted me on the shoulder. “I am sure she will forgive you someday.”
“What did Barok do to her? Why didn’t you tell me about any of this, old man? Doesn’t Fleur work for you?”
Thell and Gern looked at me as though it was my fault. Which it was. I said to her, “The Havishon in Bessradi became convinced that our man Sahin was a member of their hidden royal family, the Ludoq. I did not contradict them, so Sahin, Fleur, and the rest of their family have become eastern royalty. We expect that she will be invited to Bessradi.”
“Oh my, she must hate you. Good luck getting your Alsman back.”
Thell pointed at the torn sheet and spilled ink on my small desk. “You started a letter to Dia?”
My response caught in my throat and the Dame hugged me tight. “Tonight we’ll eat dinner and write one to her to
gether. Perhaps a visit to the silver stairs this afternoon so you can hear Lilly sing? Don’t give me that look, Gern. Your wife needs to loosen her grip on the druids before the rest of us grow to distrust her.”
Thell, meanwhile, had started clearing up my desk and was studying the crumpled sheet as though he’d managed somewhere amidst all other things to learn how to read. He pointed at it, smiled, and turned as if to comment on the words I’d meant for Dia.
I looked to Gern, desperate for an escape.
He peeked outside. “Everyone is ready.”
“How late am I?”
“You are never late. We are always early.”
Thell and the Dame let me go, and I stepped out into the warm light of dawn. My envoys, retainers, and six hundred Chaukai stood in formation upon the practice field south of the wide foundation stone that had replaced the spruce-covered ridge that had once been their hiding place. The finished streets that reached out around us were built above stone sewers, set with tall curbs, and lined with empty plots. A single avenue of thick stone buildings drew a line south to the vast camp of freed slaves that had signed on to the thousands projects our grand enterprise. They’d started their day well before dawn, and the scents of the bread, pork, and fish that sustained them combined well with the sterner hints of pine resin, wood smoke, and fresh-forged iron.
South of it all, our river delivered from forest and quarry all the hardwoods and dark granite that would rise up around us. The tall waterfall to the right of the quarry had been saddled with an aqueduct reservoir, and a network of scaffolding and stone footings dotted the interceding forest like a grand constellation. The excavation at the end of each arm of the aqueduct would become the baths and fountains of our capital.
The work had occurred at a pace I’d not thought possible. Edonia’s burgeoning people had managed several feats for me, but this was something else altogether. We were twenty-nine days ahead of schedule, and they were finding new ways with each to surpass themselves. I was not fool enough to credit myself with any of this, though many others tried to. It was the combined magic of Soma and Geart that made it possible. They had healed every person, body and soul. Their fitness was far better than any ready division of Hemari and their commitment to the enterprise was a thing of poetry.
My brother Rahan, who I still referred to as Selt, would have recalled for me that Aden’s slave army had come from Apped and other prisons in Aderan than had held the craftsmen the church had robbed of their wealth and freedom. I had similarly extricated a large number of master craftsmen from the Kaaryon’s clutches the previous year, and their skill had become the beating heart of Enhedu’s industry. I had a quarter million more of them of now, and their craftsmen consortium boasted 174 organized guilds that had voted unanimously on a charter that pledged them to the rebirth of Katat and Edonia.
I soaked in as much of the scene as I could, but could not stifle the dread that plagued me. The success around me was dwarfed by our challenges. Fana and a handful of adolescent druids needed to relearn a thousand year-old magic to fend off a wrathful god, and Gern and I needed to raise an army capable of defeating an empire.
For a moment the light notes of a chorus of flutes drifted to us above the forest. The players were our young druids, and their music teacher was Evela Yentif, first wife of my brother Rahan. It was only the second time I’d caught a whisper of their playing while they took reprieve from their study of our White Lady’s words, and I wished for a moment that I could leave all the rest waiting and join them. I was not supposed to get to know them, though, so I set the want aside and focused again on my students.
I drew my sword, saluted them, and was pleased by the salute they gave in return. Fana stuck out for her advanced pregnancy, but she and the rest of the civilians in the forward ranks were learning fast.
This was not the art I’d studied and written about upon the Deyalu in Bessradi. This was the practice I’d resurrected from a careful swordmaster named that had died trying to bring his art to Edonia. It was a calm practice, and as I led them through its forms, the good mood kindled in my heart by the view spread through my body.
Keep balance. Keep space. Defend and know the line between hand, point, and opponent. Know the measure of your opponent and wait for the attack that cannot reach you. Close to eliminate the risk of a powerful blow, bind or disarm your opponent, and strike at him when safe. It was a school of defense, not Zoviyan attack, and we danced with it while the sun vanquished the morning mists and warmed us to the challenges of the day.
We finished as the noise of construction began to rise. I moved toward the center of the formation and my envoys and retainers formed around me. They taken to calling themselves the circle, and it was fitting. The Chaukai enveloped us to bear witness. There would be no secrets between us.
Master of Buildings, Erom Oklas’ report of the construction had the qualities of brevity and detail I required. The rest of my envoys were as swift and it was the clarity of their missions that allowed it. They were doing a masterful job assimilate the freed slaves into Enhedu’s thriving towns and villages and the Bank of the Pinnion was well capitalized and constant draw and activator of the trade partners from Setch in Heneur to Letsemi in Khrim. The effort to domesticate elk had been a resounding failure, but that failed business was the only notable capital loss my bank had suffered since it began lending to the industrious men of the north.
My Master of Ships, Sevat O’Nropeel, reported good progress on the full squadron of twenty-four tall ships. Four had already finished their sea trial and were being crewed and provisioned.
“Which of them will brave the trip around to Bessradi?” I asked.
“Captain Etchpay will command the Revenge south tomorrow,” Sevat said. “If you would like to make any amendments to the message he will bear to Rahan, tonight will be your last chance.”
“I have no amendments at present,” I said and he stepped back.
My General, Gernilqwa Furstundish was next with word that the Chaukai has founded the enormous camp he would use to train the army I would lead south in the spring and the herd of horses they would ride.
Fana Furstundish commented on the progress of her College of Healers and the trip she was due to make to Heneur to find more people capable of song. She asked again if I would accompany her to Heneur so that she could attract more and better students, but I refused. The rumors that Lady Jayme has survived, and Fana was keen to convert her to our cause. I could not abide the seasickness, regardless of the need, and there was too much in motion for me to leave the city.
The last was our Grand Prelate, a young and lawyer priest from the Oreol. He had nothing to add, which was welcome enough, but too unusual for a former Conservancy priest. He’d not managed one succinct report in all our many gathering.
“You have nothing at all to add today?”
“We should release everyone to their day,” Fana said.
The move to end the meeting did not sit well with me. “We will go nowhere until all reports are heard and agreed to. We must speak with a single voice and must at all times be aware of our combined efforts. It is only with the unhindered advice and consent of this circle that I will act or allow actions to be taken. Chief Prelate, your voice is not requested. It is required.”
He bowed before he said, “The stream of refugees making their way to us up the long mountain road has begun to include priests, Sermod, and nolumari from Bessradi. They are the ones who heard Geart’s invitation to join us.”
“How many?”
“Twelve-thousand.”
“What?”
“It is a guess based on the flow of people moving up the road. One in ten of those I talked to came from Bessradi’s Priests’ Quarter, and reports from Almidi put the number of are gathering to make the long walk to us at over a hundred thousand. Some of them may be fervent member of Bayen’s church before Soma mended their souls, but I do not think any with faith came north. The number will only increase if w
e make good on Geart’s invitation to teach magic to those of their number who are capable.”
“The College of Healers will take no men,” Fana said. “The Sermod are welcome and I will deal with them. Send the rest back.”
“These numbers are too many to ignore, Fana.” I said, “Will you not be swayed from your judgment?”
“We all heard the Mother Yew. The Spirit of the Earth trusted Sikhek and Geart to her ruin. Men are too close to the Shadow and cannot be trusted with magic. I will not teach men, especially those from Bessradi.”
“You are right to remind us of that men are more susceptible to the Shadow’s whispers,” our Prelate said, “But we lack numbers. Your healers move through the villages seeing to pregnant women, leaving few here, and it must be acknowledged that the college has only sixteen students at present that will join the army this season. They deserve better.”
“They must do without,” Fana said.
“Beg pardon,” a yellowcoat officer said. “We lost a thousand men to sickness and wounds during the days after Aden’s attack. It was not until Geart healed us that the needless death came to an end. We cannot go to war out to sea without healing magic to preserve us. Our numbers are too few to face the attrition of the war to come.”
I turned to my general. “Gern, how many healers do you require when we march south?”
He was not pleased that I’d put him at odds with his wife and took a moment before saying, “The recent action in Bessradi made the case. Each troop that had a singer attached was worth ten times the weight of those without. When we march south, our preference would be that each troop includes a singer that can heal a man or horse or make them fall asleep or flee.”
“Could we find five-hundred healers in the flow of refugees?” I asked.
“You will not find any,” Fana said. “I will not teach men to sing.”
“If we do not teach these wayward people, they will depart and learn songs from others. We can keep Geart’s promise to these men or lose them to the enemy. If I go with you to Heneur will you agree to train five-hundred healers?”
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