The Wound of the World

by Edward W. Robertson

  If it were diseased or hurt, he could mend its damage, grow new blood vessels throughout it, drive away the sickness. But as he moved through Earl's tissue, he saw nothing out of place. At first, he was disappointed, but he quickly grew irritated at his lack of ability to solve the puzzle, pulling himself closer and closer to the nether until each fold of brain filled his vision.

  He finished his search. He tried again, forcing himself to go slow. At the end, he withdrew, head aching.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't see anything wrong."

  The girl lowered her face, voice as soft as washed linens. "Thank you for trying."

  She took Earl's hand and walked away. Blays swore under his breath, then called after the girl. "What's your name?"

  She glanced over her shoulder. "Nika."

  "Well, Nika, the first thing to learn about gods like my friend here is they don't often listen to you. Even when they do, they usually can't do anything for you."

  Her eyes darted to Dante. "I…"

  "Fortunately," Blays continued, "not every problem requires a miracle to solve it. Is your brother otherwise intact? Capable of physical labor?"

  "And strong, too. He never gets tired."

  "Good news. Because those idiots from Mallon seem to think that buildings are for smashing down rather than for living in. There's rubble everywhere. And all of it needs to be picked up from where it is and set down somewhere else."

  He led the siblings away. Dante went to meet with Cord and the Keeper to discuss the food situation. As they went over options for rations, including dire scenarios where there was only enough for soldiers and their vital support, he pictured Earl smiling at the sky as he was marched off into the wastelands. If a siege came, would they have the heart—or lack of it—to do what was necessary to survive?

  Four days after the messenger had left Collen, he returned with Boggs Twill. Boggs had the face of a man who spent most of his time outdoors in the low desert. That day, he looked even ruddier than usual. Dante hoped their news of his sister's death hadn't sent him on a drinking binge.

  Dante and the Keeper laid out the situation. Boggs listened, face craggily unreadable.

  "Administrator of the Collen Basin." He made a noise that might have been a laugh. "Not very fair, is it? I did nothin' to earn this."

  "Then you'll fit right in with the Mallish nobility," Blays said.

  "There's got to be somebody with more experience."

  "You have more than you think," Dante said. "You've run your family's trade for years. Seeing to the basin won't be so much different."

  Boggs rubbed his stubbled neck, then shook his head. "Maybe so and maybe not. Either way, I ain't earned this. Someone else deserves it more."

  "In a just world, power is handed to those who've earned it, and only when they're ready to wield it. Do you think this is a just world?"

  "If it was, would my sister be dead?"

  Dante met his stare. "Nothing prepares you for leadership of a people. None of us are ready. All you can do is trust yourself to learn your role as you go. To accept that you might not be the perfect choice, but you are the best choice."

  "Right," Blays said. "And to understand that if you can't take on the responsibility, someone worse will."

  "How about Gladdic? He dead yet?"

  Dante grimaced. "He fled the city. But that's because he knew we'd learned how to kill him. As soon as Collen is secured, we're going after him."

  "In other words," Blays said, "the sooner you help us get this place sorted out, the sooner we'll be able to present you Gladdic's head as a drinking goblet."

  Boggs swore. "You two should have been barristers. Hand over the damn crown and tell me what you need me to do."

  Their first move was to dispatch official letters to Parth and the towns of the Strip of Alebolgia. It was likely the other realms had already heard of the Mallish occupation, or would soon, so Collen's newly-forged council of five decided to make mention of that in their request for trade. Revealing that information might weaken their bargaining position, but if it looked like they were trying to hide the fact they were in conflict with Mallon, it might scare off their potential partners altogether.

  Once the letters were drafted, Dante leaned back in his chair. "How much can we reasonably expect them to sell us?"

  "Parth's always got more wheat and mutton than they need," Boggs said. "And the Strip's got as much fish as you can stomach. Between them, they could have us covered."

  "But how much can we afford?"

  "Not enough. Until recent events, Mallon's given us more freedom than normal, but they ain't stupid. They've been taxing us into the ground to make sure we can't take advantage of that freedom. What little coin we had left went into keeping our soldiers trained."

  A glum silence fell over the table. The Keeper shifted her robes. "What if Narashtovik were to loan us the funds?"

  Dante bristled. Funding his lands was his most hated duty. He'd always been able to save more than Narashtovik spent, but the surplus could be wiped out by a single famine or conflict. No matter how reasonable the expense, whenever an advisor or Council member brought him a bill, all he could think about was how much further it put them from financial freedom.

  "Not possible," he said. "The Council's already unhappy with how long I've been away. If I tried to convince them to invest in a foreign war, their first order of business would be to build a new tower, and then lock me up in it."

  She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "Then we will have to hope our neighbors are both reasonable and merciful."

  When they finished, Dante returned to his private chambers and got out his loon. He'd let Olivander know about the outcome of the battle, but the last time they'd spoken, Dante had been operating under the assumption that he and Blays would be leaving Collen within days.

  He clipped the bone earring to his ear and pulsed the connection.

  "Dante?" Olivander's baritone voice was halfway out of breath. Around him, hoofbeats thundered. "Is this vital?"

  "Decide for yourself. We think Mallon's going to make another attack on Collen. We're going to stay here and stop it."

  Olivander sighed heavily. He called out to his men, excusing himself; the hoofbeats diminished. "Can I ask why?"

  "Because we don't want to see everyone in the basin put to the sword?"

  "The world's a big place. At some point, someone or another is always being put to the sword. What business is it of ours if it's Collen's turn?"

  "Collen's on the brink of independence. If they fall, Mallon's going to set their sights on us, both as punishment for intervening, and to get us back for the war that Samarand made on them years ago. You might remember that one, since you were on her Council. But if Collen breaks loose, Mallon won't dare come for us with Collen right there on their flank."

  "So you want to battle them in Collen so we don't have to battle them in Narashtovik. That's an interesting idea. But it's built on the assumption that we have to fight them at all."

  "This is the end of it," Dante said. "Once the snows come, we're heading home."

  Olivander sighed. "I wish I could believe you. But every time you make a promise to return, the next time I hear from you, someone else needs saving."

  "What are you, my wife? I give you my word. We'll be back in Narashtovik before the new year."

  ~

  The next few days were spent rebuilding. In the mornings, Dante used most of his power to grow crops, which were quickly harvested and brought up to the city. Whatever nether he had left, he used to raise ramparts or dig ditches for the defenses Cord was building around the town at the base of the butte.

  One morning on his way out to the fields, a messenger ran him down. The Keeper had news. Dante climbed back up the road and found her waiting beneath an awning in the plaza.

  "There is trouble at Kaline," she said. "Senator Alder refuses to commit his town to the war."

  "So what? Why don't the other senators overrule him?"<
br />
  "Some won't commit until he does. He owns much of the land around the nearby canals. The senators fear that if they oppose him, he'll raise their rents to intolerable levels."

  "Get me a guide and a horse," Dante said. "I'll sort him out."

  Within an hour, he and Blays were riding out from Collen in the company of a young woman named Salya, a warrior recommended by Cord. Salya said nothing that wasn't directly related to the way forward. They rode north, trailing dust behind them, the air thick with the scent of sage. Low hills and small buttes interrupted the dry plains.

  It took a day and a half to reach Kaline. Along the way, Dante grew a crop of grapes from a wild vine he found, which Salya marked on a map she kept. Kaline was arranged much like Collen, though scaled down in every way: a pint-sized plateau with a village at its base and a town at its top. When they ascended, a canal sparkled in the sunlight. Green fields lined both banks. Presumably, these belonged to Senator Alder.

  Most of the buildings on the butte were simple wattle and daub structures with thatched roofs and hides stretched over the doors—wood was always at a premium in the basin—but a few were elegant things of fired clay bricks. Salya took them to one of the largest of these. Inside, she waited in the foyer while Dante and Blays were brought upstairs to a room with a large window overlooking the desert below.

  Half an hour later, an older man entered through a side door, giving a glimpse of a cluttered study. The man's silver hair was slicked back from his forehead, a salt and pepper goatee bracketing his mouth. A paunch was visible beneath a blue silk shirt. Silver rings clicked on his knuckles.

  "You must be Galand." He gave Dante a faint nod, then turned his attention to Blays. "And he is?"

  "My advisor," Dante said. "We've worked together for a decade."

  "He will remain outside."

  Dante raised an eyebrow, but Blays only shrugged. "You will regret this once you've seen what I've done to your kitchen."

  He left, closing the door behind him. Senator Alder strolled toward the window and gazed out at his holdings. "Is your arrival supposed to frighten me?"

  "That depends," Dante said. "Have you done something to fear for?"

  "That depends. Should a man be afraid to stand up for the well-being of his home?"

  "The Code of the Wasp insists you join the fight. I'll assume you heard what the Mallish did to Collen?"

  Alder didn't turn from the window. "It sounded like the typical treatment of occupied lands by a hostile army."

  "Typical? I've been through several wars. I've never seen someone try to eradicate the population by feeding them to demons."

  "Demons. Swords. Starvation. When the outcome's the same, what does the method matter?"

  "Why won't you commit to supporting Collen?"

  Alder met his eyes, arching a brow. "That's just it, isn't it? Whenever troubles come to the basin, it's Collen that needs aid. So we send soldiers. Food. Coin. It's as much of a tax on the six towns as all the levies of the Mallish."

  "If Collen needs aid, I imagine it's because they've taken the brunt of the damage. Would you rather Mallon besieged Kaline?"

  "Yet they never do. Always, they strike the city of Collen. Why? I could only speculate. All I know to be true is that the towns give and Collen takes."

  Dante's left cheek twitched. "What do you want?"

  "You're here because you believe the Mallish will return. When they do, I want Kaline protected."

  "You just said that they only go after Collen."

  "There are times when they assault a second target as well. Besides, after their loss, they might rethink their strategy."

  "Mallon won't deplete their forces on the towns. They'll come straight for Collen. Once it falls, they'll regroup and pick you off one by one."

  Alder laughed airily. "If you can scry on King Charles' mind, then we have nothing to fear!"

  "The basin's army will be deployed wherever we can stop the enemy. If that means making a stand at Kaline, then we'll make a stand at Kaline."

  "And if it means protecting Collen, you'll be happy to sacrifice us. I want a garrison. Two thousand men."

  "That's far more than you'll contribute. If every town made that demand—"

  "Then you could deny us. But they didn't think of it. I did. Thus, I get the rewards." He turned back to the window. "Speaking of such, I hear rumors that the canals are to be expanded. Not for crops, but for commerce. I will require a share. Ten percent seems reasonable."

  "We're discussing the ruin of the Collen Basin, senator. This isn't the time for negotiation."

  "On the contrary, this is the only time Collen is vulnerable to the needs of Kaline. That means now is the only time you'll listen."

  "Here is my counter offer," Dante said. "Assist the war effort like the Code of the Wasp insists, and before I leave Collen, I'll spend five days making improvements to Kaline. New canals. Fortifications. Whatever you want."

  "Or?"

  "Learn the price of betrayal."

  The senator examined him for a long moment, then broke into a smile. "No. With ten percent of the new trade revenues, I can buy all the canals and fortifications I please."

  "Canny," Dante said. "All right, you have a deal. I presume you'll want a contract guaranteeing your share?"

  "Oh, indeed. My study is this way." He opened the door he'd come in through. The room beyond held a desk the size of a door. It supported a number of quills, parchment pages, trimming knives, and documents. "You'll be involved in the expansion of the canals, yes? May I ask what Narashtovik's cut will be?"

  "One senator." Dante plunged a knife of nether into the man's heart.

  3

  As soon as Raxa freed her kids from the Citadel's dungeons, she headed for Herrick's. The walk through the city felt like it took half a day. Every time she passed a guardsman dressed in black and silver, she expected the cry to go out. She drew a few looks, but none more suspicious than would be extended to the average young woman leading a school of six children behind her.

  Herrick's yard was quiet. So was his house. Raxa's heart went cold. When Gaits had kidnapped the kids, it would have made sense to kill the parents. None of them were anyone special. None would be missed. Leaving them alive would only make it easier to tie him to the crime.

  She told the kids to wait outside, then searched the house. Herrick was tied up under the bed. Blindfolded. Gagged. Was a wonder he hadn't suffocated.

  "I'm sorry," he said once she'd cut him loose. Tears brightened his eyes. "I was working in the yard. Splitting wood. Didn't even hear them come up on me. Next thing I knew, I was under the bed and Fedd was screamin' with all his lungs."

  "This wasn't your fault." She jerked her head toward the front room. "Fedd's outside. Along with five others like him. I'd keep them at my house, but it's going to be too dangerous."

  "I'll take them. 'Cept I don't know how it'll be any safer here."

  "It won't be. You're going to take them into the woods. The only people who'll know where you are will be me and my runner."

  Not that she had any idea who that runner would be. After what Gaits had done, she didn't know who she could trust. Not with something this important. No matter. If she had to, she'd do it herself.

  "Tell me where," Herrick said. "I won't let you down."

  The eight of them struck out for the woods. The pine forests were lousy with abandoned cabins and shacks. Most were too ruined to serve as a shelter, and some were occupied by vagabonds, but Herrick spent plenty of time coming out to hunt or cut wood. He led them to a house big enough to fit them all.

  "You follow Herrick's orders," Raxa told the children. "I'll let your parents know you're okay. And I'll be back as soon as it's safe."

  That much was a lie. She'd be back soon enough. But she wasn't sure that it would ever be safe again.

  ~

  Once she was back in the city, she called Anya into her office. And explained how Gaits had sold them out.

  "He be
trayed the entire Order." The wonder and loathing in Anya's voice was the most emotion Raxa had ever heard from her. "I hope you made his death a slow one."

  "Faster than he deserved," Raxa said. "But I had to make sure his schemes couldn't do us any more damage."

  "What are we going to do about this?"

  "Call another meeting with the Little Knives. Gaits might be dead, but that doesn't mean the Citadel's done with us."

  She sent a messenger to Vess. The letter was enough of a tease that Vess demanded to talk that same night. As before, they met in the garden courtyard of the temple of Urt. This time, rather than Gaits, Raxa took Gurles with her.

  Vess eyed the heavyset bouncer. "Where's your other man? The smirky one?"

  "Gaits is dead," Raxa said. "He was working with the Black Star."

  "Traitor under your own roof. Nothing hurts worse. You kill him yourself?"

  Raxa nodded. "And tracked down the Black Star. A woman named Cee. She works for the Sealed Citadel."

  "All the sons of all the bitches. The Citadel?"

  Raxa explained. As with Anya, she left out all the parts involving her own abilities in the shadows, sticking to Gaits and his betrayal.

  "We'll have to work together," Raxa concluded. "Neither of us can fight the Citadel alone."

  Vess rocked with laughter. "Whole gods damned Gaskan Empire couldn't fight the Citadel. We can't declare war on them."

  "Why not?"

  "Same reason the fleas don't declare war on the dog."

  "We bite much harder than fleas," Raxa said. "If we do this right, they'll never know it's us."

  Vess tipped back her head and stared at the branches hanging above them in the courtyard. Fall was coming and the first of the leaves had started to turn.

  "No," she decided. "Ain't doing. Fighting soldiers is one thing. But the Citadel, they got sorcerers. Long as they got the monopoly on magic, they got the monopoly on victory, too."

  "I suppose you're right. Then we'll have to back off…after one last heist."

  The woman frowned. "Of what?"