by Dan Decker
She glanced over at the woman and could see plain as day on the Radim soldier’s face she did not expect Jorad to be successful.
“My relationship with Jorad is a liability to our cause,” Soret said, speaking so quietly Xarda might not have heard it.
“No,” Xarda said as she shook her head. “It’s the one thing giving him hope right now.”
“It may be, but he must find his hope outside my affections. You saw the decisions he made in Zecarani. He shouldn’t have come for me when I chased after father. He put the entire mission at risk—something everybody in our traveling band had sacrificed for—because of me.” Soret could tell Xarda was about to disagree, so she continued, speaking over her. “If it would have been Tarner, would he have followed?”
Xarda’s lips formed a thin line as she stared at Soret.
I’m getting through. Soret tried to keep the satisfaction from showing but felt the beginning of a smile start to creep up her face, she turned away, faking a sob.
“I don’t want to be the reason he fails.” Her voice cracked, but that was more from the effort it took to keep her emotions at bay than any thought of contributing to Jorad’s failures.
Soret forced another sob, thinking of Thon and Gorew, willing tears into her eyes. When she thought of how Barc had been left back in Zecarani, it came with full force. Feeling a little foolish that she’d caused this to come over her, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the tears, careful to leave some to sell her act.
When she turned back to Xarda, the woman was once again staring out at the darkening city with a faraway look on her face. Soret sniffed loudly, earning a glance from Xarda.
Good, she sees the tears.
Soret put her back to the waist high wall and blew her nose, sniffing and bringing the tears to an end. It took longer than she expected because the emotions were real, if not the supposed purpose behind them. She felt dirty manipulating Xarda but if this was what she needed to do to survive, so be it.
She slid down to the floor as she took control, regretting the move as soon as she’d made it but deciding she’d give it a few minutes before getting back to her feet. Xarda was not the type of woman who would seek to comfort another, so it was not surprising she let Soret deal with her emotions in silence.
It was just who Xarda was. Come to think of it, Soret’s mother had been that way as well. It was her father, Barc, who’d always played the role of comforter in her family.
She pushed away thoughts of her parents and focused on ending the tears. She wiped her face clean, stood up, and looked out over the city.
“You make a compelling argument,” Xarda said, “but that’s why you need to be kept safe. If you’re not in harm’s way, he won’t be coming to your rescue.”
Soret was prepared for this. “But can you keep me safe when the Hunwei come? These walls are tall, but they’ll just fly right over. I doubt we’ve seen the full capabilities of their weapons. Neberan was a village. A small one. This is a large city, they’ll have different tactics. It will fall as did all the others. Nobody will be safe when that happens. And Jorad? He’ll come for me. Don’t try to deny it, you know he will. He’ll be responsible for commanding his army and putting up the best fight he knows how, but instead, he will come for me.”
Her words hung in the air as Xarda’s face became a stone mask.
Have I oversold it? Soret wondered, hoping she hadn’t just burned the one relationship she was hoping to foster. It was a shame she was forced to do this to Xarda, whom she considered a friend, but Soret needed to survive. That came first.
“If I’m a member of a Radim army, he won’t be able to come for me. He’ll have no choice but to do his duty, particularly if I’ve already broken off things with him.”
Now she was pushing it, she didn’t doubt for a moment this might end their friendship, but she suspected the reason for Xarda’s mask was because Soret had finally gotten through to the woman and she was trying to decide what she thought of it.
Soret waited in silence, forcing herself to lean over the edge while trying to think of what other arguments Xarda could make.
“You may have a point.” Xarda turned to her. “But ending things with him might break him.”
Soret furrowed her brow as if in deep thought, though she was prepared for this one as well. “If it does, then he isn’t the man we need as Ghar. Better to know now so we can look for contingency plans.” She didn’t need to hear Xarda’s response to know she’d convinced the woman, the look on her face was enough.
I will become a Radim, she thought. And I will protect myself.
Chapter 21
Barlon, Vaar, and Pakel were in the meeting chambers when Jorad quietly approached the open door. He was so tired and frustrated at the events from the night before that he didn’t care about what the consequences might be should one of them notice him standing outside.
If somebody passes, I’ll pretend I was straitening my uniform. His borrowed uniform barely left him room to breathe, let alone move. Jorad couldn’t raise his arms above his chest. The tailor who’d taken his measurements the day before had sent this one over while he worked on one that would be a better fit. He’d promised to get it to Jorad by evening.
The tailor had also provided him with a general’s swords insignia to go on the collar of his shirt. He’d felt like a marked man when leaving his quarters, it was going to take some getting used to.
“He stabbed the man in the leg,” Barlon said in a voice loud enough it made Jorad wonder if he was doing so on purpose, hoping Jorad might overhear.
“You’re too harsh,” Pakel said, his voice closer to a whisper.
“The man shouldn’t have been made a general in the first place. What other fool mistakes is he going to make? It would have been better for all of us if it had been six dogs instead of three. If he’d have died during the initiation ritual, nobody would have cared.”
Jorad frowned. Those were traitorous words if he’d ever heard them.
“Quiet,” Pakel hissed, “he’s due any moment.”
“So, what if he is?”
“You’re approaching mutiny.” Pakel’s voice sounded clearer than the night before. “Put your head down and just endure. It’s obvious he’s not cut out for this. I don’t think there’s doubt in anybody’s mind. Soon enough, he’ll make a mistake that will remove him as a problem.”
Jorad decided he’d had about enough of this and shuffled backward so the men would hear him approaching. He was about to take a purposeful step when Vaar spoke.
“This isn’t the proper place for this kind of talk.” He lowered his voice, and while Jorad wasn’t certain what was said next, he could make out the word “accident.”
Melyah! Are my men already plotting to kill me?
He didn’t like the way this sounded. He listened, hoping in vain for more until he thought of the refugees he’d brought with him from Zecarani. They depended on him to figure out a way to fight the Hunwei. He couldn’t do that unless he were successful in making his claim so that he could enter the Rarbon Portal.
And to do that he’d do whatever he needed to do, even putting up with mutinous lieutenant generals who weren’t taking care to keep their plots in the dark.
He took a step forward and followed it with another, steeling his face for what he faced inside. He’d been feeling a bit sheepish about facing his men after what had happened during the night, but he set that aside.
I’ll have them poisoned if needs be, or hung if I find actual evidence of a plot. As a general, he could do that sort of thing. The only unfortunate thing was that he couldn’t just string all three of them up right now. That would have been the ideal thing, but that might cause a mutiny among his men. It was what Adar would have done, but Jorad wasn’t in the same position.
I need people I can trust.
The men inside the chamber must have heard Jorad’s approaching footsteps because they were silent when he walked into the
room.
Jorad pulled out his chair from the head of the table and sat, trying to move in such a way he didn’t remind them he was in constant pain. These conspirators didn’t need the reminder of his weaknesses. Of the three, only Pakel looked the slightest bit uncomfortable. Barlon’s gaze had an open challenge while Vaar did a better job of keeping his expression neutral.
Jorad’s eyes narrowed when he saw Barlon’s uniform wasn’t in any better condition today than it had been yesterday. He might have ignored it, but the man had wished for his death, besides, if Jorad didn’t enforce the small orders, how could he expect his men to heed him when it was important. Pakel’s eyes were still bloodshot, but he seemed in a better place physically, if not emotionally. His eyes danced from Barlon to Jorad as if expecting confrontation. He, at least, had tried to get his uniform in better condition.
Vaar’s uniform was pristine, and unlike the one Jorad had managed to wiggle into, it looked as though it fit.
“Put on a proper uniform,” Jorad said to Barlon, “if you’re not back in fifteen—no, ten minutes, you can consider yourself demoted.”
Barlon jumped out of his chair, knocking it over so that it hit the floor. “Don’t tell me what to do you yellow traitor’s son—” He stopped speaking when Jorad came up from his own chair and put his sword to the man’s neck before he knew what was happening. Barlon’s face went white, he hadn’t expected Jorad to move so quickly.
Neither had Jorad, he could feel splits in the new scabs on his back.
“I didn’t sleep well,” he said, “so I’ll assume I misheard you. Count yourself lucky I don’t behead you like a dog.”
Jorad could feel blood coming from the freshly opened scabs on his back. He was glad for the uniform jacket which would keep the blood from seeping through.
Barlon had a sudden intake of breath and took a step back. Jorad half expected him to reach for the hilt that protruded over his shoulder but the man stumbled as he moved. If the thought had been there, it was gone by the time he caught himself on the top of his chair.
“Go, now.”
Barlon finally moved, his face a deep red. Jorad sheathed his sword when he was certain the man had gone. “That should not have been necessary,” he said to Pakel and Vaar.
He picked up his chair—so quick had his movement been he hadn’t realized he’d knocked it over—and sat down. Even though he’d moved as he might have before his back had been wounded and beaten, he was paying for it now, finding it difficult to keep a straight face.
Pakel looked impressed, but Vaar still kept his thoughts from showing on his face.
Did they think Adar had sent me here without any skills? They looked as though they’d expected him to not have any ability with the sword at all.
“Pakel, did you drink last night?” Jorad might have waited to ask in private if it hadn’t been for the conversation he’d overheard. “And before you answer, honesty will serve you better than a lie. I don’t tolerate liars.”
The man swallowed. “A small sip, sir. Honest to Melyah, I stopped as soon as I realized what I’d done. A matter of habit that won’t happen again. I got rid of it all.”
Jorad frowned, wondering if he should punish the man. But he had said the truth would serve Pakel better than a lie. While Pakel hadn’t come to Jorad’s defense, at least he hadn’t flat out suggested the fabrication of an accident as had Vaar.
“See it doesn’t happen again.” He looked at Vaar. “Who oversees cleaning the base?”
“General Kruper assigned the task to several women, hired help.”
Several women? No wonder the place was such a mess. They would have needed a team of women. Jorad shook his head. “No more. From now on each soldier will spend an hour of his day cleaning. Also, I want a bounty on every rat. Ten rats for a copper. It lasts for the next four days.”
“Barlon was handling that before—”
Jorad cut Vaar off. “He is tardy to our meeting, you handle it now.”
Vaar nodded. Jorad almost made the man speak but decided to let it slide. If he got on their case about every last thing, he wasn’t going to get anything done.
“How often are patrols being done?”
Pakel answered this time, seeming to have found his tongue, the blood had come back to his face as well. “Two or three a week; sometimes more, sometimes less.”
At least they were doing that.
“From now on there will be three a day. The patrols will be charged with going twenty miles out and surveying all Napael territory. Twice a week, one patrol will go fifty. Understood?”
Pakel nodded. Again, he would have preferred the man to speak his assent, but he let it slide.
Jorad wanted to have the patrols to circle into the other territories, but that would cause trouble with the other generals. He had considered having some of his Napael soldiers dress in merchant clothes, but that kind of thing would not be kept a secret long. Perhaps if he ever developed trustworthy relationships with some of his men, but maybe not even then. In a position such as his, knowing who to trust was not easy. Adar had lamented that fact numerous times.
He didn’t know how seriously the other generals would heed his warning about the Hunwei. He needed to first gauge where they were on that issue and perhaps try to shore up any of the large gaps, though he didn’t have the slightest idea how he was going to do any of that.
“Sir?” Pakel asked. Jorad nodded for the man to speak. “That’s a lot of patrols, the men aren’t going to like it…” He trailed off when he saw Jorad’s face.
“Are we soldiers or not? I don’t care what they like. The Hunwei are coming. Have you ever fought a Hunwei, Pakel?” He didn’t give the man a chance to answer. “I have. For one, they’re several feet taller than us. They have armor that protects them from our blades, which by the way, we can’t even touch because there is some sort of invisible protection around them.”
He let that sink in. Vaar, as usual, was impossible to read, but Pakel swallowed again.
“I have killed them. I will teach you to kill them as well. So, when I order patrols to be done three times a day, you better be sure that it happens. In fact, I’ll lead the one—”
He was interrupted by a rap on the open wooden door. He turned to see a man dressed in a uniform different than his own. Another Radim?
He didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember if the yellow frog insignia patch on his arm was how the various Radim armies and soldiers were differentiated, but he was certain all Radim wore the same uniform.
“Yes,” Jorad said, noticing that the man was young. Very young. Fifteen at the most.
“You’ve been summoned, sir. The Rarbon Council has decided your first task.”
Chapter 22
The Rarbon Council chambers were packed more than before, a fact that surprised Jorad. How had so many people assembled so quickly? He’d only got word of his summons half an hour ago and had been forced to ride a horse, galloping full out when he could, to arrive at the appointed hour. As it was, he was late, though he didn’t know by how much.
Abel’s machinations again? Jorad wondered. They must have sent out invitations late yesterday to have a crowd this large gathered in the morning. As he walked towards the pavilion where the Council all waited—and he noticed to his chagrin, all the other generals but one was there as well—he heard many in the crowd calling to him, though he could not understand what they said.
He hadn’t had an opportunity to check the time, having left as soon as the messenger had appeared. The more he thought about it, the less doubt he had that this was all part of Abel’s plan. He kept the anger from showing, but it took effort, and his heart strained under it all. A line of sweat formed on his brow, but he did nothing about it. Most would be too far away to notice a little detail like that, but all would see if he wiped his brow.
As he came to the front, he was reminded of how he’d entered two days before. He wanted to hope it would go better than the outcome of that me
eting, but given the fact that Abel had been given more time to prepare, Jorad doubted that would be the case.
I need to expect things to go badly, he thought as he walked into the arena and climbed up the same platform he’d been on before. A woman joined him.
“The Rahar requests you sit beside him.” She was pretty but had a look in her eyes that made Jorad wary.
He considered the offer. It was likely another of Abel’s manipulations, but he didn’t see a way out of doing as she requested. His grandfather had gone out on a limb and spoken for him—at least that was how the audience members would see it—and he couldn’t afford to publicly snub Abel.
Not yet, at any rate.
“Make sure the Rahar knows of my gratitude for his kindness.”
The woman smirked. “Tell him yourself.” Her words had an edge that led Jorad to believe she was aware of the exact nature of the tenuous relationship that was forming between Abel and himself.
All the generals watched with unreadable faces as Jorad followed the woman up the stairs. A bad feeling came over Jorad as he climbed the steps to the large platform.
I should have refused the offer. I should have taken the opportunity to establish my independence from the man.
It was too late to back out. He’d look a fool if he did. He ground his teeth as he followed the woman to the side of the council seating where two chairs had been set apart. Abel was nowhere to be seen.
The woman motioned for Jorad to sit in one of the chairs. He hesitated because he felt like doing so would spring a trap that would break his neck.
“I’ll stand, awaiting the arrival of the Rahar.”
The woman’s frown was almost imperceptible, but if she was displeased, he had made a good decision. Too bad it wasn’t likely to make up for following her here in the first place.
Jorad stood behind the chairs, with his hands clasped behind his back, trying to look as though he were standing guard. That would at least confuse anybody who thought he might be assuming honors he hadn’t attained.