by Dan Decker
Rarbon was indeed as foreign a place as she could ever hope to visit. She’d always wanted to travel, and while the circumstances weren’t ideal, she was happy she wasn’t back home in Neberan, married to Erro.
Melyah, help me, I’m glad I’m not, even though all manner of terrible things have happened. If wishing things were different would have gotten her mother back, she’d have done it in a heartbeat. But that was the only thing that gave her pause.
Married to Erro.
That was how her life was supposed to have gone. Her parents had made it clear what she was expected to do. Perhaps that was part of the reason why she’d ended things with Erro. Jorad had given her something to move to, but she’d also liked him because he’d represented something other than life in Neberan.
Neberan was gone now. As was her mother. Her father was back in Zecarani if he hadn’t been killed by the Hunwei.
I can no longer remain helpless. The world needs people who can fight. If Xarda can do it, so can I, regardless of what she thinks.
They walked up the stairs of the building, which were lit with a careful use of mirrors and a window high above. They’d come in late in the evening and left early, but now that Soret had time to pay attention to her surroundings, it almost felt as though she were in a palace. The staircase was large, the handrails were carved with creatures, and the presence of light without an obvious source gave the place an almost mystical feel.
Perhaps this is what it had felt like for the others when they’d first entered the Arches, she thought. She’d been so tired that she’d barely been able to comprehend where they were. Wes had described it as magical, and all she’d been able to feel was fatigue and fear.
Xarda is wrong to tell me to wait, she decided. I wish Jorad the best in his mission, but it isn’t dependent on me. It isn’t my fault if he fails because I’m not by his side.
When they came to the fourth landing, they entered the hallway. It wasn’t as well-lit, but there were windows at the end which gave some light. There were also lanterns along the wall, but none of them burned.
A man waited outside Xarda’s door. Soret wasn’t surprised to see it was Tere when they were close enough to recognize him in the dim light.
Xarda pulled out her key. “Didn’t see you last night at the Rarbon Council meeting.”
“I had other business to attend to,” Tere said with a scowl, earning a look from Xarda who expected more of an explanation.
“Which was?” Xarda prompted as she unlocked the door and swung it open, motioning for Soret and Tere to enter before her.
Soret’s awe for Xarda’s rooms threatened to distract her. The sitting room had a couch with several arm chairs and looked out through a window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.
The glass was the clearest Soret had ever before seen, without a bubble or any coloring. It was dizzying to look out and see what was below. She couldn’t imagine how the Rarbon Palace could be any grander, but Xarda didn’t appear impressed by her home.
Soret forced all these thoughts away and turned her attention to Tere, who she could tell was anxious to speak with her.
Soret refrained from frowning. How was he going to ask to be alone with her in a way that wouldn’t arouse Xarda’s suspicions?
Perhaps Soret should make it easier for the man by just slipping him the tablet when Xarda wasn’t looking. Soret wasn’t going to try to keep it from him. The whole reason she’d become involved was to curry favor with Tere in the first place.
I need all the allies I can get.
Xarda walked over to the windows, looking like she was going to pull back the drapes. Soret stepped forward and pulled the tablet out in one motion.
Tere snatched it, putting it in his pocket before she could blink. By the time Xarda had pulled back the drapes, Soret was back where she’d been, and Tere had walked a few steps towards Xarda.
That went better than I thought. Her heart pounded, and sweat had formed on her forehead.
“How did things go?” he asked. “I understand the boy was whipped.”
“You weren’t there?”
Tere shook his head.
“What is going on with you, uncle?”
“Not important. Jorad was sworn in?”
Xarda nodded her head. “He’s a general. Why do you care?”
A thin smile crossed Tere’s face. “I was sent to collect Jorad. Adar was a secondary concern, if that. Why else would I have entered into a truce if not for Jorad?”
“Perhaps. What are you hiding?”
Tere gave a curt nod. “I must be going. Please keep me apprised of anything you hear from Jorad. His task is critical, I’ll provide whatever help I can.”
“Be careful, uncle.”
Tere bade them farewell and left.
“That was as odd as I’ve ever seen my uncle,” Xarda said with a frown once the door was shut behind him. “He’s up to something, and I have a feeling I need to learn what it is.”
Soret shrugged, not trusting herself to say anything without her voice wavering.
When Xarda walked into her bedroom, Soret looked at her pack on the floor of the sitting room. She could grab it and go. It might take a few tries, but surely somebody in the city would be happy to tell her where to enlist. She took a step towards her bag but stopped, her own words echoing in her head.
I need all the allies I can get.
That was why she’d been letting Jorad think that things were healing between the two of them. A few days more weren’t going to hurt anything, especially if she could convince Xarda it was the right thing to do. If she enlisted with Xarda’s support, she would have another person to rely upon.
Soret ground her teeth, knowing what the right decision was but hating to do it still the same. Xarda of all people should understand my position.
Walking over to her bag, she took a seat in the chair beside it.
It was the most painful thing she’d ever done, but waiting a few days would be the smart thing to do. Her hand curled into a fist at the thought, but by the time Xarda returned she’d unclenched it, and had laid it flat on her leg.
Chapter 13
The crowd dispersed after the chant of “Rarbon musch lebel” was over. As loud and raucous as they had been before, they were now quiet and even respectful. Jorad was certain this was customary, but the stark difference between the beginning and the end was something he wasn’t going to soon forget. Their message wasn’t lost on him. Rarbon shall stand. It was a lukewarm showing of support, at best.
Drake had stood in silence while the crowd left, staring at Jorad the way a hungry dog would a raw chunk of meat. Jorad did his best to meet the gaze but wavered more than he liked. His back was lit up like a fire.
He wished for more of the salve he’d purchased in Zecarani, but he’d used most of it the day before. If he’d have known what awaited him on his first full day in Rarbon, he wouldn’t have touched the stuff, planning to use it now.
I am a general, he thought. It wasn’t exactly a happy thought, but he had covered more ground on his first full day than he thought he’d do in a month. Against all odds. Not because of my father or even because of the Hunwei but because of Abel. Why would he do this? Go to all this effort to see me strung up and whipped but also sworn in as a general?
It was fitting that while giving with one hand, the man had managed to punish with the other. Jorad had a feeling Abel’s actions would always have a sting to them. It was something Jorad would need to remember about his grandfather.
I ought to just kill the man and be done with his machinations.
He recognized the thought as a little delirious but confound it all, he was in so much pain he was allowed some latitude, wasn’t he?
When Drake broke eye contact by turning away, Jorad let out a breath. It was hard to remain on his feet while in such terrible pain, but he knew he must. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.
His men were watching. Of all the times in his lif
e where it had been okay to show weakness, this was not one of those times.
He must be as strong as possible, harsh even. Adar had told Jorad of some of the things he had been forced to do as a general. At the time Jorad had heard the stories he’d been judgmental of his father, but while he now stood as straight as he could without support, after the beating of his life, he understood a little of what it must have been like for Adar to have people always looking to him. Watching every word and deed.
It’s only going to get worse from here.
Abel had left without saying a word to Jorad, the man had barely even looked in Jorad’s direction before hopping into his carriage. Cor was not nearly so circumspect, staring at Jorad with open curiosity and perhaps even a little respect.
At least, that was what Jorad decided to tell himself as the carriage with his grandfather and half-uncle left, escorted by their retinue of guards and hangers on.
It wasn’t surprising in the slightest, and while Jorad was happy to skip out on one more interaction with his grandfather who would be king, he would have liked another interaction to get a better read on the man.
How could Adar have come from him if there isn’t some good in him? Jorad wondered as he tried to ignore the pain that flashed through his back when he took a step.
Keeping his face as emotionless as a statue, he took another.
Drake was headed to the edge of the platform, speaking with the guards who’d escorted Jorad from the dungeon. He looked as though he had every intention of leaving Jorad here alone. No further instruction. Nothing. Apparently, he was supposed to already know what to do.
Or another Rahid soldier in my position would need little guidance.
Summoning his willpower and forcing the pain to the back of his mind, Jorad increased the speed of his walk until he’d caught up with Drake, right before he was about to hop down from the platform. The man looked annoyed at the interruption.
“What happens now?” Jorad asked.
Drake smiled wickedly. “It’s up to you, General Rahid. You’re on your base.” His eyes danced with amusement. “It’s been years since the men have killed a general, but there is precedent.” With a laugh, he hopped off the platform and left Jorad standing with the guards.
When Jorad turned to face them, both snapped to attention with a fist formed on their chest.
The lack of disrespect he’d seen before was gone, at least on their faces. The one who’d complained about having to clean up the spilled contents of the bucket back in the dungeon still glared at Jorad through the salute.
“Who was in command here before it was given to me? I don’t mean Kruper. Who ran things after him?”
“General Molach Morgol, sir. He’s been leading both this and Paroke armies.”
“Was he here?”
The man shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Summon him to me.” General Morgol must have been the missing general.
“Yes, sir.” The man headed off at a walk. Jorad was tempted to tell him to run but refrained.
The remaining guard stood at attention while Jorad looked around the Napael grounds.
So, this was his father’s old army? Jorad thought of the stories he’d heard from Adar, wondering about the specific locations of where things had happened.
It was strange to be here, bloody with his shirt ripped to shreds, without his father beside him. He’d always known it would be like this, that his father could never return, but it was strange to be in a place that had been so formative for his father and not have the man with him.
Jorad looked at the guard. “Your name.”
“Bullford Hugh, sir.”
“Fetch my belongings. If you’re back before General Morgol, you can tell somebody else to clean up the mess in the dungeon.”
His eyes lit up as he hopped off the platform and took off at a run, forgetting to acknowledge the order. Jorad let it slip, hoping he’d just taken his first step to making a new ally.
His men would never be his friends. It didn’t work like that between a commanding officer and his reports. The best Jorad could hope for was to earn their respect. He didn’t need any more enemies than he already had.
Abel’s carriages had stopped at the gate of the wall, the drivers unable to force their way through because of the crowd.
I already have plenty of enemies.
Jorad wasn’t ready yet to fully commit to thinking of Abel as such, but the scene that had played out this morning, as well as the way his grandfather had handled things the night before were already several knocks against him.
What was he going to do about Adar’s old man?
If Abel believed the Hunwei were back, would he set aside his pride and work together for the good of Rarbon? Jorad knew what he would do if he were in Abel’s position, but he didn’t think Abel would put Rarbon first, especially when he had Cor in waiting.
Cor was still three years away from being eligible to make a claim. Hopefully, by that time, Jorad would have already become Ghar. It had been many years since Rarbon’s last Ghar, but when one was seated, no others could make a claim.
If I haven’t been successful by that time, the Hunwei will have killed us all anyway.
It was said the first Hunwei war had lasted more than a decade. He didn’t think it would take the Hunwei nearly so long this time.
Chapter 14
Molach Morgol awoke with a start, sitting up in bed while wondering what time it was. He could see light coming from the sides of the shutters that covered the arrow holes and decided it was close to midday.
Tempting as it was to turn over in bed and sleep until the afternoon, he pulled his feet from the covers and put them on the frigid stone floor.
He’d long since become accustomed to the cold, but he would never say he preferred it in the way some of his men boasted.
After using his chamber pot, he dressed for the day and splashed cold water on his face from his wash basin, using the small amount of light coming from around the shutters to see his way around his stark quarters.
Laran was becoming more insistent that Molach should move into the general’s quarters, he thought doing so would further cement Molach’s place of authority over both Napael and Paroke army.
He didn’t understand why Molach refused to do so. Molach had heard rumors about why he’d never assumed the space, but he didn’t care.
If he led Paroke army for fifty years, Molach was never going to live in that room. It was bad enough that he’d been put in charge of his traitorous father’s former army. He sometimes imagined members of the Rarbon Council joking about it behind his back.
He didn’t care if word had gotten back to them that he’d never taken up his father’s former quarters.
No, Laran might continue to urge the move, but Molach was not going to do it. Perhaps he ought to give the man an order to be quiet about it.
The promotion to general had come as a surprise. Given his father’s history, Molach has assumed lieutenant general was as far as he was ever going to go.
Molach had not been under any delusions, nor had he ever sought any further advancement. He was just glad to serve, hoping that in some small part he could undo the damage he and his father had done.
Once he was ready to face the day, he opened the shutters, looking out through the arrow slits to the grounds below. It was always difficult for him to look at the grounds from this high up and not remember what it had been like when his father had been in charge.
A small satisfied smile flitted across his face as he thought about how he’d torn down most of the buildings that had been there before.
He was sure some of the men had discerned that part of the reason for his actions was to remove the house his father had built. He wouldn’t have denied it if anybody had ever asked, but nobody had bothered. The only ones who’d probably wondered about it were his own men, and they weren’t in the habit of questioning him.
My father always encouraged his men to
speak freely. It wasn’t the first time he’d considered it, and it wouldn’t be the last.
He knew his army would have been better off if he gave his subordinates a certain amount of latitude but he’d never done it. It was just one of the things he did to make sure nobody would ever look at him and see Helam Morgol. The man who’d tried to take over the city. The man who’d almost captured the Rarbon Portal, until he was slain by Adar Rahid.
A knock came to the door.
“Come.” Molach turned as the door was opened by Franc, one of the guards at the Inner Wall.
“I have a messenger from Napael Army, says he was sent by General Rahid. He’d like you to accompany him.”
That stopped Molach cold. General Rahid? Abel Rahid had made sure people stopped referring to him as general a long, long time ago, though it was still a title of his. As far as Abel was concerned, he was the Rahar, nothing else. Molach had heard rumors that Abel was maneuvering the Council to allow Cor to make a claim when he was eighteen, one year earlier than expected, but even with how little Molach followed politics he was certain he would have heard of that well before it happened. Besides wasn’t Cor still several years younger than that?
It could mean one thing.
Jorad Rahid had returned and made a claim in his absence.
Molach now regretted the late morning hour that he and his team had come back from patrol.
If I’d have known Jorad was going to return, I’d have stayed away for the next six months. He snorted, perhaps for a year.
It was hard to keep from asking Franc questions as he processed all the ramifications of what he’d just learned, but he took great pride in his self-discipline.
“Send the messenger to the map room,” Molach said, “I’ll meet him there in a moment.”
Franc raised his eyebrows, apparently expecting that Molach would have sent the messenger back with word that he was unavailable. Generals didn’t just summon one another, but Jorad wouldn’t know that, and much as it galled him, Molach had his oath to Adar to consider. The fealty Molach had sworn to Adar did not extend to Jorad, to be sure, but when Adar showed up again, Molach didn’t want to face any uncomfortable questions.