by Paul Lytle
“What are you saying, father?” asked Dravin.
“I am saying that it would be simpler for the ern to sneak into town and find the children born the day of the Prophets’ deaths if there was a man inside the town helping them.”
Ayrim’s breath was caught. He had wondered the same thing, and yet hearing the theory aloud caused him great fear. Strange that the simply voicing of thoughts added such weight to them, as though it were true simply because the words were said.
The Baron’s son was outraged. “You doubt the loyalty of men in this war against the ern?”
“You were not yet born then,” Dravor retorted, “but you may remember the reports of men fighting against Saparen with the ern in the battle that destroyed half of my city. They have human allies in this, Dravin, and possibly inside these walls.”
“If there are, the First Rank will find them.”
“Damn this war!” Dravor Verios said suddenly. “We are spread too thin, and the King wants more and more. As soon as I build a regiment is it taken away from me. The ern have come for us, and they have brought with them Magic as we have never seen, and yet Trosalan continues his quest to take over Fahlin. We have almost taken the Last Stand! Is that not enough?”
His son was startled, and he said, “You doubt the King’s actions?”
“I do, and you will too when you are Baron; every day you will doubt. Many times he will be proven in the right, and you will be ashamed that you doubted, but you will doubt, for many times he will be wrong as well. In public you will defend his every move, but you will grind your teeth at some of those moves. Fahlin would have let us reinforce the Last Stand under the command of their lords, but Regis Trosalan wanted the castles for himself. He wanted his army on Aeresan soil, not Fahlin land. Fine, let him take the Last Stand, for the Last Stand was meant to protect us anyway, not Fahlin. But now he makes plans to invade further, even before the three castles are secure. Fahlin courts Drynslin for help, and it looks as though they might come. Men fight men while the ern and the Absence grow stronger. My own guard has become so weak that I cannot even protect my own castle, much less my other lands that surround Saparen. So, yes, I doubt. With one more demand from the front lines, I must abandon our scouts, lest we forsake our walls completely, and so nothing will we know of the countryside until the threat is upon us. Ern may take my land up to this very gate, and if another army slips through the Last Stand while Trosalan worries over Fahlin, we could be overcome.”
The Baron sighed and put his fists upon his waist. “It is late,” he said. “Some topics are best saved for daylight. Son, make sure that the bodies are collected and that Gerill and Ayrim have another guard before they return to their home.” And then the aging man retreated.
Chapter 17
Ayrim was the only person in Serrin’s library that early morning, which was not terribly unusual. Even the well-trafficked libraries were generally quiet places, not like the market or the city gate. The librarian was a young man of thirteen who was studying for the Priesthood, but when Ayrim arrived he was asleep at his desk. Ayrim, however, despite a noticeable lack of rest in the night, was wide awake. In this morning was he reading an account of the Battle of Ern Invasion. He had met its author, Chyre Nilar, years ago, but the elderly man had died of old age a couple of years back. Ayrim had already read that book once, but he felt a desire to review the events.
“Only Ayrim Iylin would be here so early,” said a voice from across the room.
“Or Father Rignslin Josite,” was the reply, and Ayrim lifted his eyes to confirm his suspicions. The Priest ran his hand along the shelves to guide himself through the room, so weak had his eyes become. And yet his smile was paramount on his face, and never did the middle-aged man complain about the loss of his most precious asset. He was a Serrenite, after all, and he knew that there was a greater reason that his eyes were failing him, and that the gods would be glorified in some way because of his handicap.
Otherwise, the Priest was aging well. Thin lines had appeared on his face, yet they were not so noticeable, and Rignslin seemed to be keeping his hair and build well enough. He said, “Even a blind man can see some things, and when there is someone in the library before Prayers, he sees that it is either Ayrim or Rignslin, neither of which have any business in Serren’s library, Ayrim being a Flaran and Rignslin being blind.”
“You’re not blind quite yet, Father,” Ayrim said as he rose to embrace the Priest.
“Near enough, my son, near enough. I was hoping that the sleeping boy over there could read to me for a little while, but I will not disturb him if you will keep me company?” The last part was a question, as though he was seeking permission that he knew he would receive.
“Of course I will.”
“I heard of the attack last night,” Rignslin Josite said as he sat beside the young swordsman. “I am glad that you came out of it without injury.”
“I was lucky.”
“Not the way the tale is told. The incident has traveled far in the last few hours, and nothing of luck is said of your side of things. Yet I am disturbed by the details. Is it true they called upon the Absence?”
“I fear that it is.”
The Priest grunted and frowned. “The balance is shifting, Ayrim. In every year I hear more of the Absence and less of the gods. Even in the Tower, where once the six Prophets could easily match the Absence Prophet, does Vid rule. Now the six has become the four; the two new Prophets remain hidden from the world. Might the end be upon us? So I wonder every day, and yet in the Ending Battle are the men supposed to unite against the Absence and the followers of Vid, but we are more divided than ever.”
“Some of us remain, Father,” Ayrim said. “More stay loyal to the gods than those who forsake them.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right.” Rignslin looked to his young friend with nearly sightless eyes, and said, “You will soon be offered a position with the Thanes, if rumors are to be believed. After your battle last night, I imagine it a certainty.”
“So some say. It has not happened yet.”
“Will you take it when offered? It may mean going to the Last Stand, for so many of the Thanes are already there.”
Ayrim thought for a moment, then said, “My path is not yet clear to me.”
“You speak like a Serrenite. I approve, of course, but do not be complacent. Do not be so intent on looking for signs that you do not see your path when it appears to you. The gods rule, yes, but the particulars of their rule are often hidden from our eyes. It is for us to act in those place, but to act in faith and contemplation. Wherever you go, Ayrim, I know that you will do well.”
“I hope that I will.”
Chapter 18
The Holy Texts, in the Book of the Six, tell of a time when the gods and the people were united, and men of the world worshiped the gods collectively. And then came the Absence, and Vid tried to turn the people away from the gods, but failed in this mission because of Serren’s great sacrifice upon a battlefield between two armies. That story has been told and needn’t be revisited, but what happened afterward should be shared. Vid then sought to divide the gods themselves, and there he at last succeeded.
In the old times, each god represented a Virtue, and yet each embraced all Virtues equally. But Vid sent his followers covertly to the gods, and these spies would taunt the vanities of the gods.
To Ignar, they would say, “Surely Justice is the greatest of Virtues, for only through Justice can society be maintained. And yet Flarow seeks to make a man only concerned with himself. Can we truly survive with her working against you?”
So too did they go to Flarow, and said, “Ignar does not wish for men to look inward, but only to others. If he had his way, wouldn’t we all be a greatly sinful people, pointing out each other’s sins without sympathy? Would there be no peace in the world?”
And to Tianon: “Surely a man must make his own way in the world,
to be responsible for only himself, but is that what Whesler really wants? Wouldn’t she take what is one man’s to give to another?”
And to Whesler: “Look at Tianon, refusing the share what he has accomplished. You would never hoard what you have learned and created as he does. Why, society will never be advanced with every man hiding his possessions and knowledge from everyone else.”
Even to the greater gods they spoke, and to Serren they said, “Tarite has no faith in the greater plans of the gods. He does not go to the Six before deciding to do something. He merely goes off and works on his own, even if his plans interfere with what the Six have already decided. Does he have no respect for the ways of of the other gods?”
Lastly to Tarite, saying, “Serren always wants to wait before acting. She never works for what she desires, but expects it be simply granted unto her. Does she not understand that the people build the stations they will possess after death by toiling and producing in life?”
And so the gods began arguing amongst themselves, and no longer did Ignar see Justice in his own morality, and neither did Flarow understand that her own Virtue was connected with Justice; also did Tianon think Whesler lazy, and decided not to share what he learned with her, and Whesler decided that even the acquisition of Knowledge was greedy, and so remained in ignorance; also did Serren sink further into her complacency, for surely there was no Faith if a man decided to work toward the good, and Tarite discouraged the people from calling on the gods at all, for they should be able to solve their own problems.
And as the gods were divided, the once unified faith and divided, and it became six separate faiths. The people, like the gods, began to think that one Virtue was superior to the others, and that it was acceptable to forsake one lesser Virtue to achieve a greater one. In this way did Vid trick the gods themselves into advocating Vice as much as Virtue.
So say the Holy Texts.
Chapter 19
It was a week before another attack was made, but not upon Ayrim did this one come. He was at home, asleep, while Gerill helped walk the wall at the end of the second shift. Only two shifts there were by this time, and toward the end of each were the soldiers weary, and not as attentive as they would normally have been, and so what remained of the Thanes, scantily ten left in the city, made it their habit to reinforce the guards at these times, especially after the ern had successfully snuck into the city.
But Gerill came home earlier than expected that evening, and his demeanor was clearly disturbed. He stormed into Ayrim’s room, and the boy sprung awake, the sudden noises drawing him immediately from his sleep. The Thane went to the window, which had been crudely boarded closed until it could be more appropriately repaired. “No others have come?” he asked of Ayrim.
“None save you.”
“Good,” Hyte said, sitting down. The word was made in relief, and yet relief had not come to the Thane. “There has been another attack. One of the attackers, an ern, was slain, but the others, no fewer than five in number, have escaped. They remain inside the walls, but we have not found them yet.”
“Which one did they go after?” Iylin asked, expecting to hear one of two names, one of the other two boys in town born on the eighth day of Osilar, in the year 8704. Both of those other two lived in Whesler’s Den, and so Ayrim assumed that the attack had come there. But neither of the other boy’s name came as the reply.
“I cannot say,” said Gerill. “That is to say, we do not know. It happened at the Crimson Veil, in one of the upstairs rooms, yet you know that the other two live in Whesler’s Den, and both were at home at the time.” The Crimson Veil was the primary inn in Serren’s Den, halfway across the city from either Ignar’s (where Ayrim was) or Whesler’s.
“Who was in that room?”
“No one. It was empty.”
“Those in the common room?”
“A couple remember a man hidden beneath a cloak, but do not know what happened to him. Tomorrow is Serren’s Day, so the tavern wasn’t very crowded that late. But Master Haden saw no one he did not know come in tonight, and no one wearing such a cloak, and the bar sits beside the door.”
“But there is an entrance from the stable, and it empties into the common room right beside the stair.”
“Yes, you remember well.”
“Or they might have come by the Absence.”
“No, nothing was destroyed except the lock on the room’s door. They came from within the building, not without.”
“You said someone was slain?”
Gerill scanned the room again, ever watchful of coming enemies. With the power of the Absence, locked doors and walls were no hindrance, and so the Thane left his hand upon his sword’s hilt, ready if part of the room were to simply dissolve away. Still were soldiers guarding the three young men, and yet so few could be spared, and only Dariel Sterwet (as a reward for his quick action) was stationed at the household of Gerill Hyte.
The answer to the question came at last, as Gerill said, “As the ern were leaving, one of the patrons was coming up the stair. A visitor from the south, I know not exactly where. He managed to leave a dagger in an ern’s chest before they killed him. He yelled for help as well. The other assassins were too busy trying to escape to retrieve the body, and yet all left without anyone getting good enough a look to tell ern from man, or even an accurate count of their numbers.”
Ayrim thought on what he had learned, and said, “It is odd, don’t you think?”
“What is?”
“That last week their understanding of the town and the people in it was so accurate, and yet tonight they missed all three targets by at least a den.”
“Yes, I had wondered about that.”
“Any theories?”
“A few, but I do not have enough evidence to give me a good one. The first is that you killed whichever one knew the town so well.”
“I doubt that,” said Ayrim. “I tend to think the Baron was right in believing a human spy is helping them.”
“As do I, but it is a possibility that they are left to look on their own now, for whatever reason, and are striking randomly. Or this might be unrelated. Another group of ern happened into the town and sought to kill where they may.”
“A mighty coincidence, especially considering that they fled after being discovered. If they were simply ern intent on killing, they would have started a melee there in the common room.”
“I quite agree. It is so unlikely a theory that I should not even have mentioned it. But the third possibility is that the target tonight was not one of the three of you, but someone else.”
“Another man of my age?”
“Perhaps, or someone else who has been an obstacle for them. Yet few were in that inn last night, and none particularly active in the town’s defenses, or in one of the temples, if that might make a difference. I fear that we must wait to see.”
Chapter 20
In those days following the ern attack upon Ayrim Iylin, the archer Dariel Sterwet seemed attached to the young swordsman, even when Sterwet was not supposed to be on duty. The archer did this less out of duty or honor than out of a blossoming friendship between the two, and Ayrim did not at all mind the company. Dariel was a Whesleran, and the way he gave of his time to Ayrim was only a part of his great kindness and generosity. Not even the long hours could dampen the young man’s joyful nature or sense of humor, and he was ever relating funny stories about what he had seen from atop the wall or teaching Iylin slightly off-color jokes about whores or Priests (and sometimes both in the same tale). When Ayrim was inside the house, Sterwet would use the opportunity to practice, and he would set up targets, crates or bales of hay, around the street and send arrow after arrow into them. The neighbors soon learned to take a look around before walking outside, even though the archer was very careful and very accurate. He used to do these exercises on the wall, where only a few soldiers might be found, but no longer was he stationed on there, and the str
eet was his only opportunity to perfect his skills. He was engaged to be wed, and very soon, and once he was, he would rent a room with his wife. But until then, he said that he much preferred the Hyte house to the barracks.
But so used to Dariel Sterwet had Ayrim become that he did not think it odd to have the archer standing at Master Hyte’s door when Dravin and Dravor Verios themselves came to the building. And he did not think it queer in the least when the archer followed the two nobles inside, even when only the Verios men had been specifically welcomed within.
Ayrim did, in fact, think the visit itself was strange, for the Baron normally summoned people; he did not himself go to the homes of others.
Gerill was there as well, as was Jeslin, and the six gathered in the front room. Hyte offered the two Verioses wine, but it was refused.
“We want to bring Ayrim into the keep,” said Dravin, and his father nodded in agreement. It had obviously been the son’s idea, but one that was supported by the Baron. “Several attacks have we had now, and it is only sensible to take the targets of those attacks, the three men in this city born on that day, to where we can best protect them. Right now, that place is the keep. When we have all three in one place, we can use the keep guards to protect them and return our spearmen and archers to the wall.”
Ayrim screwed up his face. “I can’t simply remain in hiding all my life.”
“It will not be all your life,” Dravor spoke up. “It will only be until the threat is passed.”
“When will it be passed?” Ayrim said.
“When the ern are found.”