by Kris Schnee
"Sure."
Indeed, the Hall of Justice wasn't locked now that it was morning. Dominic, who'd surely die if the wrong people recognized him, walked right in. A yawning guard sat up at a desk.
Dominic said, "I need to see Citizen Bastian."
"And you are...?" The guard looked pointedly at Dominic's blank forehead.
Dominic let the Weave flare around him, if the man could see it, and made papers flutter on the desk. "Here on urgent Servant business. This city's in danger."
"You just signed your own death warrant, you know." The soldier didn't move.
"Right. So unless I'm an idiot, it must be important. I'm either an unusually well-trained escaped Bound, or I'm just going maskless. Worth the Citizen's time either way."
The man looked him over with narrowed eyes. "If you meet him, it'll be after a search and inside a stone cell. That all right with you, 'Servant'?"
"Of course." He held his fists tight at his sides for fear of shaking. There was no sense in it; he had already gambled his life.
He was disarmed and waiting in a prison cell for so long that he feared his only appointment was with a painful death. But then the door clanged open and Citizen Bastian came in, scowling and with his grey hair and shirt askew. "My city doesn't need any more trouble right now. What is it? Another apprentice stubbed his toe?"
"Good morning. I came to ask how the city plans to defend itself, given that the westerners are on their way."
The guard was right behind him. Bastian snarled, then said, "Show me that you're not a random escaped Bound asking the most irritating of questions."
Dominic gave a similar display, making his clothes flutter in a phantom wind and letting the Weave stir around him in the elegant style of a Temple Island adept. "Also, we've met. My name is Dominic."
Bastian walked into the cell and inspected Dominic in profile. "Right. Servant Jasper's apprentice. Excuse my mood." His tone hadn't changed. "Please tell me you have an army on the way."
"You could say that. What is the High Citizen doing about the impending siege?"
"Nothing! What can he do? The man's got our best troops at the Flower Walls along with half the Bound who're fit to fight. We'll be ready in here if the enemy just slips past them, but he's committed to a hard front-line defense. 'Not an inch to the enemy!'"
"What would you do instead?"
"Easy. Defend the Flower Walls, but keep ready to fall back quickly and repeatedly, even into the city. Keep moving and chew them up at every step. The defenses aren't much good if you treat them as a single barrier."
How did one breach the subject of treason? "It sounds like you've given this some thought. We should speak privately. I believe I owe you."
"Fine." He had the guard close the door, leaving them both in the cell.
Dominic had been hoping for more than a bare stone room, but made do. He took a deep breath and reminded himself he was already a dead man; he'd already started dealing the cards. "I came to feel out where you stand on a sensitive matter. There's been talk of the possibility of Seaflower... not fully defending itself."
"What? Who said that?"
"The theory is that the westerners are not necessarily here to pillage, but instead mean a change to how this society is organized. There seems to be a certain laxity in how the Bound are treated here, suggesting that there might be people sympathetic to that view. I'd been warned that Baccatan law is frayed at the edges, where Servants visit less often."
For the hundredth time, Dominic wished he still had his mask, just to hide the shallowness of his breath, the slight flush to his cheeks. His bravado wasn't even true; he still had a chance to walk out of here if he just played the loyal Servant checking for dissenters and promising help. All he had to fall back on for a semblance of calm was to tell himself another comforting, possible lie. Serve your King and He will serve you evermore. There was nothing for it but to press on.
Citizen Bastian scowled but took his time to answer. "Frayed? Cracked, even. Tell me, Dominic, where have you been? What have you seen?"
"In your city I saw a Bound jailed for teaching me to read. That reminds me; I owe some silver to a man living in an alley nearby."
Bastian laughed. "Ah, him. I pay him enough already." He studied Dominic like a predator. "Are you surprised, Servant? I don't know that he's outside the law, and a man responsible for enforcing law has occasional use for people who don't neatly fit into it."
Dominic leaned against the warm rock wall, trying to keep his hands steady. The alley man's employment was a good sign. "Wherever I've gone -- and I've traveled a lot within Baccata and a little beyond -- I've seen law in operation. But the law has become an instrument of injustice in many areas. Of course I'm not speaking of the wisdom of the Boundless One, but of corruption."
"Of course," said Bastian. Better to accept an implied insult to himself than to the Holy State. "My own experience before coming here as a young man was in the north, where 'frayed' also applies. They have old beliefs out there. Remnants of the days before the State. The people seem to fight more passionately for those forbidden ideas than for proper doctrine."
"I have an apprentice of my own these days, from Shirker's Noose. He complains that it's a terrible place, one he was glad to leave."
"And no doubt you've corrected him?"
"Of course." Dominic realized that he and Bastian were now literally circling in the cell, unconsciously edging around the walls as they spoke. They could go on all day, and at sunset his "wayward" apprentice would have to act. He thought of an expression Rose had used a few times around him: Strike at the root. Who was he to put the lives of countless Baccatans at risk in the name of some foreign god and some vague notion of "liberation", if he wasn't willing to risk his own life first? He said, "Citizen, enough games. I'm here because I believe this city will fall... and because that might not be its worst possible fate."
Bastian answered with equal care. "Your words could easily be mistaken for treason."
"The people have hinted at trouble with the Seaflower. The fact that no one from the capital has fixed it yet tells me the problem runs deep. I've been learning about foreign magic recently, including the work of some tree experts from beyond Mithrol. Maybe they can help, but they won't help an enemy. You're not entirely happy with this city's leadership, I know. The people don't take Baccatan law quite seriously, the army isn't exactly doing its job, and there must be other cracks I haven't seen. Purely hypothetically, what would happen if a powerful Citizen turned toward support of the westerners?"
Bastian laughed bitterly. "Servant, I wouldn't even entertain such thoughts with a respected man such as you. I'd have to have myself arrested. Your lack of a mask is curious, though. Have you somehow damned yourself? It would be interesting if you uttered such words in front of myself and a witness. Why, I'd then have to either have you killed or listen very closely."
Dominic had guessed correctly that he'd found a sympathetic ear, but they'd both heard of Servants doing similar provocation once in a while to root out traitors and make examples of them. Diligence, he told himself, and carried on. "Bring in your witness."
"No. I might have arranged for someone different to stand outside, someone I trust. Whisper your evil thoughts through the door." Bastian knocked and said, "Listen carefully; I've extracted a confession." He looked expectantly at Dominic.
Dominic pressed his hands against the cold metal and smelled the scent of burning wood and flesh, making him shudder and gag. "I... am proposing to the Citizen that Seaflower... change sides in this war."
He felt Bastian's hands around his neck. The Citizen whispered, "There. You're in my power. You're a dead man if I want it. Even if you kill me. Understand? Your damn capital games won't work!"
Dominic swallowed and nodded. "I understand. Will you listen, now, or have I damned myself enough already?"
The hands released him. "You interest me, traitor. If you hadn't dared complain about the laws when you came here a
s an ignorant Bound, I would have surely taken you for a provocateur. You're also lucky that my men are carefully chosen." A breath. "Very well. Maybe I'll die for listening, but go ahead."
Dominic began to speak of St. Wylan, of his contact with foreign magic and religion and ideas. Of Rose the outlander and Perrin the exiled nobleman and Irene who was rotting in prison. "We can do better than the Holy State. Better than restoring a stalemate of Citizens and Bound glaring at each other forever while Servants give them orders. Seaflower has an opportunity to win a better life for its people."
"I'm not sure the foreigners' way would be an improvement, if we only have new masters and a new set of festivals. What good is it to start paying taxes to a different capital?"
"Access to outlanders' magic and other resources. Fewer people killed, once the hostile border is pushed farther south. The ability to run the city differently. And if personal gain is what motivates you, there's money and power to be had."
Bastian looked offended. "I have both. What about you?"
"I had a comfortable life on Temple Island. I might get something out of this, but so far I've only gained a ship that I captured myself, and sold it to buy weapons and food."
"For your maybe-army on the way? It's not here to defend the city after all, is it?"
"I do have a small one, made mostly of deserters and answering to me. Only a few hundred men, but better equipped than standard Bound. A few are getting basic mage training too. They could help defend the city, if they were invited in -- defending it against the Holy State, I mean."
Bastian said, "Then tell me where the western army is, if you're on their side now."
"The main Mithraic army is delayed to our northwest, fighting the Torrin forces. I have reason to think they'll be free soon to come here. When they do, I can't be sure of their actions. It's as though they don't completely trust me."
"'Once a traitor, twice a traitor'. Are they wrong to think that?"
Dominic shrugged. "They're right to be suspicious. My own thinking is that their 'King' is a better idea than our own worship of the Boundless One and the State. I just wish they'd hold to their own religion more clearly."
"So it's your beliefs that motivate you? What about those of others? Will you run the old believers through if you take this city?"
"I'll tell the Mithraians no one is to be killed unless they fight."
Bastian frowned, then opened the cell door at last. "I think you and I need to have a drink. Javert? Come join me in my office."
The three of them went at last to the Citizen's room, furnished sparsely but for some potted vines by the barred window. He closed a shutter over it and plunged them into sudden dimness, then lit a small oil lamp. Dominic noticed it was decorated with a woven triad design he'd last seen in Torrin. "A northern souvenir?"
"A relic of the old ways," said Bastian with a tight smile. His guard poured them some fine-smelling brandy and stayed behind. Bastian locked the door and explained to the guard, "That possibility we once discussed as a joke has started to seem more interesting. How much did you hear?"
"I'll follow you as always," said Javert, pressing his fist to his heart and making a ritual gesture that looked like something from the northern Waldic tribes.
Dominic's eyes widened. "Then you're not followers of the One at heart."
Bastian clinked glasses with the guard and with Dominic. "Three dead heretics drinking before noon. You should understand, Dominic, that I want this city protected. You told me that you'd tell the Mithraians to leave it alone, but what influence could you have once their armies roll in? No, you're doing this scheme of yours wrong. What you ought to aim for is to rule it yourself."
Dominic paused in mid-sip of the dark, smoky liquor. "That's not why I'm here."
"But think of the people. I doubt they'd accept a foreigner as their High Citizen or whatever the title is. And if it were me taking over, it'd look like a simple power grab. My level of love for High Citizen Arend is well known." He mimed lowering one hand to the floor. "But you can pander to all sides if you're clever. And if you can fix the Seaflower."
"What's wrong with it exactly?"
"I'm not sure. I fear the answer is just that wherever the water's coming from, it's running out rather than being magically created."
"Of course spells can't just create things," Dominic said, then caught himself slipping into the mode of a lecturer. "I don't know if it can truly be 'fixed' then. The city may need to change how it farms. Either way, contact with the Mithraians and the Velesians -- like my tree expert -- would help."
"It could be enough, if you made a big show out of starting the process." Bastian sighed and looked to Javert. "Could you see this man giving speeches and looking authoritative?" The man nodded.
Dominic said, "I'm not qualified to rule a city."
Bastian shrugged. "I guess we have to kill you then, since we've just spoken well beyond the point of no return. Are you sure?"
Dominic shivered, thinking of his attempt to sway the Baccatan prisoners and how readily they'd changed sides. "The Bound seem hardly to care which master they serve. I want to convince them that they don't need one. Part of what changed my mind was that there was so little actual support for the Holy State. If no one really loves it, it's nothing but a system of abuse, and it ought to stop."
Bastian's expression looked grim. "Some of the people do love it, and not just those that benefit most. Are you willing to pledge your life to the goal of becoming king over people who might despise you for trying to help them?"
Dominic ran through the foreign prayers in his mind, of service to an abstract King. To liberate his people, he would need the Mithraists. He would also need the justice of a good cause that could rally Bound who'd never imagined a better life. The valor to fight and conquer. The diligence to pursue the cause wherever it might lead him. In short, he needed to live by the values he would be preaching. The thought of being sincere, of not using the foreign faith just to justify the breaking of the Baccatan bladed wheel, lightened his heart. "I believe I can do that, and with a clear conscience."
Bastian said, "Would your morality as a new king include tolerating those of us who follow the old ways?"
"It would have to," said Dominic, though he was troubled. How could old believers like Bastian and Torrin's rebels get along with Mithraists, if they didn't agree on religious principles? In fact, he'd mentally been using "Mithraists", technically meaning followers of the King's religion, as a synonym for "Mithraians", the name of the people.
In an ideal world everyone would agree, but that wasn't going to happen. The Sun King's followers would need to accept that. He said, "But under the Mithraists' system the title of King is already taken."
Citizen Bastian stood, considered, and bowed. "Well then, Prince Dominic, you have work to do."
* * *
The "Prince"'s first act was to rescue the exhausted Jakob from underground. "Ugh," Jakob said. "Give me breakfast or kill me."
It was full daylight now, making discretion even more important. Bastian had been keeping a spare Servant mask and robe locked away, so he gave them to Dominic and touched up Jakob's false brand. No one asked if the supplies were spares for a legitimate Servant, or secrets kept for underhanded work. The wolf and the otter followed the converts around. In Dominic's case he could have dismissed the creature, but he encouraged it with food and occasional use of the spells meant to establish contact. The creature's abilities were a mystery worth investigating later. For now, there was a city to take.
In the Hall of Law, Dominic said, "I want to cut off the water supply to the west, to cripple the troops at the Flower Walls. We can do that with sluice gates rather than magic. Meanwhile, my men will need food if they wait much longer. They need to either be kept supplied, or to get around your High Citizen's army and make it into the city."
Bastian said, "They won't be able to sneak in all at once without alerting patrols. We'll send out men to 'capture' a few of them
at a time while they forage. Give me a message to send and a signal they'll recognize. Are any literate?"
Dominic nodded. "The westerner army doesn't need to fight Arend's forces, only to wait them out. The westerners can freely move around while Arend is stuck at the Flower Walls, unless he wants to give up his main advantage. And we can shuttle water to our army. How well do you control the city guard?"
"The ones I don't much favor are at the Flower Walls now. Others, well... Let's hear how persuasive you are. Make me a case for the new religion -- and how you'll protect people who don't join it."
Dominic looked to Jakob. "I think it will take more than talk. What do you say to cooking up an omen or two?"
17. Souls Bargained For
While a few of Bastian's men went out to make contact with Dominic's troops and the Dukes', the sound of bells echoed from around the city. Hidden men rang them in attics and basements to leave a minor mystery. Meanwhile, beggars suddenly developed a rumor of great magic afoot, and guards questioned gossips about whether they'd seen any strange wizards. By morning the Seaflower seemed to run with blood, or at least dye. The western stream to the Flower Walls failed, shutting off water to the army, but the city guards insisted they had people fixing the pipes that had collapsed. A statue wept. The next night, a granary burned down. No one was killed, but the flour and salt were apparently totally destroyed. Grim portents!
Only then did Dominic speak. He wore his robe and mask into the theater, where prominent Citizens had been invited. This time he was the one on stage. He began by pulling the mask off, feeling the stale air of the crowd's breath on his face, and throwing the slab of brass to the floor. Silence fell. "This city took me in when I was an ignorant Servant apprentice," he said. "I come now with news of a higher power that will save you from invasion... and from a problem that you've suffered from for a much longer time."
He'd practiced, but still sweated in this crowded room. He spoke of the plight of Citizens who lived to cater to their Bound, who were under-appreciated by their "betters" and pushed around by their "Servants". They shouldn't blame the Bound themselves, he said. "There is a better way to live!"