Striking Chains

by Kris Schnee

  There was only one thing to do to change their impression of him. Dominic kept his distance from the militia. He reached behind his head and whipped off his Servant mask. "You see this? Watch!"

  Servant Dominic hurled his mask out of the city of Saint Wylan. It spun and shined in the moonlight, momentarily catching the attention of the fighting men. It hung in the night for an instant, looking down in silent judgment, and then turned its face away and fell somewhere beyond the walls.

  11. Traitor

  The angry townsfolk hesitated, quiet for a moment. Dominic's bare face might have startled them, if they were expecting a demon instead of just a man.

  The tailed slinger beside him said, "He's with me. Now get that gate closed!"

  Dominic risked stepping toward the mob and the gatehouse, holding out his left hand. "Give me a club." Someone did. The townsfolk flattened themselves against the wall to let him through, then fell in grimly behind him. Ahead, he saw torn black cloaks and stunned, furious men of Baccata holding the little stone room with the mechanical controls.

  "Traitor!" they screamed.

  Dominic supposed he was. It didn't matter anymore. He answered by holding the club out and tearing along its surface with his fingers, uttering a shout of his own. The Weave's light rippled in a spell that was nicknamed Splinter Scream. The wooden club exploded into a hundred shards that flew out and filled the room, catching faces and arms along with bodies already on the floor. There was no time to think about whose they might be. Then the mob swarmed in with countless mismatched blades and bludgeons, yelling defiance. Dominic tried to end it quickly, to stop his countrymen, but killing was inevitable. A pleasant chime caught his ears over the din. Little bells, tied to the main mechanical chains so that they'd ring when the gate opened. Men were shoving him aside and cranking a wheel to drop it again, creating more music. Knives flashed and fists struck him, forcing him to fight back.

  A portal in the stone floor, a "murder-hole" for crossbowmen, showed him horsemen coming in below. Then came a horrible set of screams, human and animal, and the thunk of a falling portcullis, the creak of a rising drawbridge. The cityfolk cheered. Dominic didn't.

  He called out twice for Servant Irene, then searched the bodies. There! Dominic crouched beside her at the risk of being stepped on. He lifted her mask to see her unconscious face. Still breathing. He reached out to try to sense her injuries and do some basic healing, to stabilize her.

  Someone looming behind him said, "You! Foreigner spy! What are you doing with that one? There are people hurt here! Whose side are you on?"

  He was crouching beside his unconscious, bloodied student and friend. The locals clamored around him and he still heard the noise of fighting below, at the gate itself. All of the sound washed over him. His hands found the worst of Irene's broken bones and bleeding flesh, and patched them up as well as he could in a hurry. To focus on the immediate problem calmed him a little, like weight lifting from his shoulders. She'd live, if the three Servants weren't killed outright. But what now? He'd just stopped a suicidal, pointless invasion by Hanse's army, but to do that... "Treason. They'll kill me for treason."

  But what he'd done was right. And besides, though he didn't want to admit it, he didn't think he wanted his people to be able to force their way of life on the westerners. They were happy as they were.

  He stood slowly, surrounded by armed and frightened men. "Let me help you defend this city. It's in danger right now, and I know what you're up against. Decide what to do with me and the other Servants afterwards."

  One of the men wore only a bloodstained nightshirt; he'd run out of his house with a woodcutter's axe but no pants. He called out, "Leave some guys here. Everybody else help at the gate!"

  "And someone make sure they're not coming up the walls!" some lady shouted.

  Dominic turned to them and said, "Are you in charge?"

  The man shrugged. "I'm just a cooper." But people were listening to him. He pointed to some of the others. "You with the tail, whatever you are, and you three, stay here and shout if the thugs get up. All right?"

  Dominic followed most of the rest of them down to the gate. He reeled at the stink of blood and pain from the confined space between the shut drawbridge and a spike-laced barricade in the gateway. Just inward from there, a collection of spears and stray furniture had gotten dragged into place and warped together by magic. A pile of thrashing, dying men and horses was crushing itself in the walled-off space. Men were stabbing into the mass to make it stop. Half a dozen other dead men in Baccatan uniform, dark and triple-triangle marked, lay dying on the pavement along with several more of their mounts. More horses panicked and dashed this way and that, for lack of a master.

  In the middle of the confusion, Dominic saw Servant Jakob, maskless, smiling with blood on his face. Jakob's voice and the smile quivered. "It's too late to win the invasion, Dom. Try to punish me and I'll kill you myself! Or the whole city will."

  Dominic took a step back. "Punish you?" Judging from the hasty but powerful wood-warping, the younger Servant had helped hold back the cavalry charge. That same power could have loosened the drawbridge and let it slam open to help the attackers, but Jakob had chosen differently. He, too, was a traitor. Dominic said, "How can I help?"

  Jakob stared at him in surprise. "Your mask?"

  "I threw it away." He'd only done it to get the people to let him through to the gatehouse. He hadn't meant more by it! But seconds later, he'd used the Splinter Scream on a crowded room of his own troops. All to stop a battle that was, nominally, for the good of the State. He looked down at his hands, thinking, What have I done?

  The city guard appeared in force, with their armor and hair askew but ready to fight. The man with the tallest feather on his helmet marched right up to Dominic without hesitation and yanked him into the air by his collar. "Spy! I should kill you right now!"

  "He switched sides, sir," said the cooper.

  The officer glared into Dominic's eyes. Dominic gasped and said, "It's true. Jakob's at the gate, too. Irene is wounded. She --"

  "I don't give a damn about your wounded slave. Now stay out of the way!" He dropped Dominic hard enough to make him stagger, and started to march on to the gate and the wall with his troops.

  "Sir, listen. I know their plan of attack. First the gatehouse squad, then the cavalry, then infantry, with no plan that I know of to scale the walls."

  The officer busily sent his men to flow up the stairs in left and right formations. "Of course."

  Dominic's mind raced. What exactly would happen now that the cavalry had been repulsed and the gate closed? "I know the commander. He thinks in terms of tribal disputes he can exploit."

  The officer ignored him, but just then, hoofbeats sounded and Sir Marion rode up with a torch in one hand. "Report!"

  Dominic repeated himself. "I'm on your side, sir. Citizen Hanse expected my team to crack this city by stealth, but you could confuse him into hesitating now. Open and close the gate again, for instance. Let him wonder what's going on. Stop the bells, then start them again. In fact, see if the gatehouse attackers brought a Baccatan flag, and dangle that from the walls."

  Marion and the guard officer looked furious. Dominic said, "Exactly. If Hanse knows anything about you, he'll think that flag would never fly unless I'd killed you."

  Sir Marion looked up at the walls and at the moon. "Do it. Tie their brains in knots and watch what they do. Maybe even the Duke will bother showing up."

  Dominic went over to Jakob and explained what had just happened. Jakob couldn't meet his eyes. "What are you thinking, sir? You don't hate the Holy State." Suddenly he straightened and faced Dominic. "I can say that here! I hate the Holy State! It's a gang of murderers and thieves! I hate being part of the gang, I hate being a hypocrite, and I'm not going to do it anymore. Even if it means fighting Citizen Hanse and everybody else -- and you!"

  Dominic had never known the depth of Jakob's resentment. Just a few days in foreign territory a
nd he'd turned. Both of them had, he supposed, though Dominic only wanted to keep the Baccata Holy State from seizing people who didn't want to be part of it. No wonder the State didn't normally let people just wander off to explore the wider world!

  Dominic said, "I think I understand. I won't try to drag you home. We need to get the city through tonight, and worry later about what to do."

  * * *

  The sun rose in the direction of home. Dominic was slumped against a dirty, lumpy wall and wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. It hadn't been for long. Sir Marion shook him awake and said, "The Duke wants you."

  He had no choice at the moment; soldiers surrounded him. They'd already grabbed Jakob. "What's going on? And where's Servant Irene?"

  "Your slave's breathing, which is more than I can say for half a dozen people who fell to your people's treachery at the gatehouse. The only reason you three are still alive is that you made yourselves useful."

  "Irene is not my slave! We're all Servants."

  Marion prodded him with the butt end of an axe. "You can explain the distinction to Duke Cecil." The dirty, exhausted, aching Servants trudged along.

  The ducal palace had been on the tour. Though it was a mass of sandstone spires and gardens, it was beauty overlaid on a solid keep that could hold out against far more than the attackers who'd breached the city last night. The iron doors opened for Sir Marion's party. Inside, they found a throne room with tables like a banquet hall. Guards stood ready.

  Duke Cecil sat on a simple padded chair that overlooked the tables. He wore a scarlet military uniform with a crown design worked into the open-faced helmet. "You foreigners came to my city as guests," he said. "And you abused my hospitality and launched an unprovoked attack by stealth and treachery. Explain why I shouldn't have you drawn and quartered in the grand plaza."

  Dominic imagined the feel of ropes already tying his wrists and ankles, while four horses rode their separate ways with him attached. He tried to explain in Mithraic, choosing his words carefully. "I can help you anticipate my people's attacks, and tell you their strengths." He looked to Jakob. "My fellow Servant seems to be more enthusiastic."

  Jakob said, "Do you know anything of Baccatan society, Duke? I don't want to go back."

  "Don't worry, then; you won't be returning. Your people never pay ransom anyway. I suppose they know that anyone who's been beyond your borders can see through the State's lies. What I want to know is why you had your change of heart and didn't go along with your woman's plan."

  Jakob said, "It was partly my own background, but what pushed me over was news of your wolves and dolphins. How many are there? Are there other creatures?" He began to pour out his passion for the magic theory implications of that spell.

  "Enough." The Duke held up one hand, looking puzzled, then turned toward Dominic. "What about you?"

  Dominic rubbed his eyes and yawned after the restless night. "I changed my mind. The city is too strong to take. The men would have been marching into a town where everyone was armed."

  One of the guards in the room said, "Damn straight!" Another one shushed him, but the Duke only smiled.

  Dominic went on. "Your forces proved that already against our cavalry and the advance squad. And..." He tried to find the words. "I'm a Servant of the Holy State. The point of my job is to help people live orderly lives and keep the... let's say, land-ruling class, honest. But your commoners don't look particularly oppressed, I think. So what good would it do to put them under proper Baccatan rule?"

  "Mm." The Duke sat with his hands clasped under his chin. He looked as though he hadn't gotten much sleep either.

  Dominic said, "What's going on outside? I didn't get the chance to see."

  "Some of your infantry closed in enough to taste our ballistae. But then we shut the gate and hung your dark flag from the wall, as I'm told you suggested. It's still there. I have men marching on the wall wearing the clothing of your advance squad, in case the enemy is looking. They're likely confused by what's going on."

  Dominic relaxed a little. "So, most of the bloodshed has been avoided."

  "For now. And for that... I have reason to spare your miserable life. The question is, how far are you willing to go to prevent further aggression by your homeland? We're at war now; the truce ended at your hands."

  Dominic's eyes narrowed. "Not true. I walked partway here because a Mithraic ship ambushed one of ours."

  "Really, now? I'd like to hear more about that. I suppose it no longer matters that you hid that news from me. So, will you help us now?"

  "You're asking us to turn traitor entirely?"

  The Duke shrugged. "If you're truly honor-bound to your home country, I'll respect that. In that case, you'll be released when the war is done." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right; they'll most likely kill you." He turned to Sir Marion and said, "Did we ever find out how they punish traitors among their 'Servants'?"

  Marion shook his head solemnly. "I imagine it's pretty unpleasant."

  Dominic and Jakob both shuddered. Dominic said, "You've put us in a hard situation."

  The Duke said, "I have deep sympathy for your suffering. Now what will you do, outlanders?"

  Dominic wavered on his feet, feeling pulled east toward home, west toward the foreign lands, and most heavily toward the floor. "It's not the sort of choice I can make sanely without consulting a bed, first." Jakob nodded in agreement.

  "Very well." Duke Cecil told his men, "Take them to the dungeon to think about it. I need to sleep before deciding what's next, myself. Treat them well, though; bring them some better bedding and food. Mage-proof cells of course."

  Dominic had expected to spend the next few hours feeling sorry for himself, but the bedroll in a dank cell of stone and metal was more comfort than he'd had lately. He collapsed into sleep.

  * * *

  A map of the nation, burning. Flames licked from west to east, and little flares came up and screamed where the cities were. In the end, all was ash. War was part of the way of things: the means of proving the State's valor and energy, pushing back the barbarians, refining the character of the Bound and their helpers the Citizens and Servants. Endless fighting was the future, such an obvious part of life that most people could pretend the flames were always elsewhere. One by one, he saw villages stripped of good men, burning away to feed the need for battle.

  A map of the nation, rotting. Sickly colors spread from the cities like moldy bread and took everything over, eating from within until only bone remained. Rot was not part of the way of things -- or so it was said. No one could leave the State without risking infection by alien ideas. The outside was so corrupted that to see it meant that the rot was already inside you and would soon burst forth with a horrible sweet smell.

  A map of the nation, shining. The land was in darkness but a light rose up from the ground, like countless fireflies or the gleam of magic. The emerald light ascended and made him strain to see. It became golden and unbearably bright, forcing him to avert his eyes and look at the world instead, where other people afflicted with wounds and rot ceased their moans of pain and looked into the sky as well. The light was upon their brows and warmth had entered their hearts, not corrupting but cleansing. The heat of the sun was so great that he removed his mask and robe and stood in only his shirt. He was made whole of wounds he did not know he had and was welcomed to the home he had never known. When a radiant man came bearing arms and armor for him he said, "Why do you bring me arms which are not mine, and heal me of wounds which are not mine, and take me to a home which is not mine?" And the man with sunlight in his eyes said --

  * * *

  Dominic sat up and shivered. The dream faded instantly except for the feeling of it, the terrible need to prevent disaster in his homeland and the thought that he could, if only... what? He couldn't get back to sleep, and paced in his cell instead. He gave up on escaping; at best he could tear up the bed and his clothes to attack the guards, who already knew he was a dangerous mage.

/>   "Jakob?" he whispered through the iron door. No answer. Let him rest.

  He could choose to die for his country. He glanced at the bedding again, and wondered if the Duke had understood he was providing the means to make it quick. Going home wasn't a pleasant option; it would be... hot. Or he could rot in this cell --

  He stopped his pacing, vaguely recalling something. He couldn't just abandon his home, though! Nobody did that! It was unthinkable.

  There'd been that missing Bound years ago, though, that everyone assumed was dead. And the missing Servant in the north. And Perrin. And there were rumors and jokes that no one admitted to taking seriously. And there was the subject of Citizen pirates. In every case, the deserters might well see what they were doing as escape, just as he wanted out of this prison cell.

  Why is our entire State organized around using force against people who've done no wrong? Declaring that the masses must be controlled for their own good, while we Servants lord over them and claim to be below? It wasn't the only possible way to live. He wasn't sure the foreigners' way was truly good either, but from what little he'd seen of it, it was better. Even the notion of what was "good" had to be something more compelling than "serving the State because it supposedly serves everyone".

  When the guards returned, Dominic found he'd slept again, more easily this time. Clearer conscience, maybe.

  * * *

  Everyone, including the Duke, looked more awake in the throne room this time. Duke Cecil said, "What shall I do with you, then?"

  "Where is Servant Jakob?"

  "We're questioning him separately after you. Congratulations; you earned a private audience."

  Dominic stared at the floor. "You're now at war with my people. What are your intentions?"

  The Duke leaned forward on his chair. "Not many people turn an interrogation around like this. I might as well tell you: I will defend my home and my kingdom even if it means killing all of you. The battle-horn is sounded, and reinforcements are already on their way."