The Way Into Chaos: Book One of the Great Way

by Harry Connolly

  At the top of a flight of stairs, she sat, dropped her hands into her face, and wept. Yes, a scholar shedding tears. Fire could take anyone who tried to tell her to hold them in.

  She felt Bittler settle beside her and laid his arm on her shoulder, but it was no comfort. Her brother’s coat. Her brother’s blood. He was the only family she had in the world that mattered to her, and now it seemed as though he was gone.

  Four days before, when she had seen him climb down that tether rope onto Vilavivianna’s roof, she’d felt this moment coming.

  “It wasn’t much blood,” Bitt said. “Truly. When I was in the Bay of Stones with Timu last year, we saw a grass lion attack a farmer. We tried to save the fellow but... Anyway, the amount of blood around him was shocking. Really. I think that if Col had truly been attacked and killed by a grunt on the wall, the amount of blood would have turned that bucket scarlet.”

  “Great Way, Bit,” Cazia spluttered. “Shut up.”

  “I won’t believe he’s dead until I see his body.” After that, Bittler stopped talking and let Cazia continue her weeping.

  Cazia suddenly felt different, though; Bitt was right and she knew it. She slowly realized that she was crying out of fear rather than grief and the tears seemed to fade away. After a few deep breaths, she wiped her cheeks and they went down the stairs.

  This end of the fort was a maze of halls and work rooms. It was just like the servants’ halls in the palace, but narrower and with more turns. Bittler was sure he knew the way and got both of them lost. Cazia had to ask a steward to lead them into the yard.

  Old Stoneface waved them toward him, urgently. Cazia didn’t trust the way he was looking around the yard, as though expecting another attack at any moment. Her first instinct was to slip back into the hall and make her way to her room, but that would only have made him suspicious. They hurried toward him.

  “Where have you been?” Treygar hissed at them.

  “To the northern wall,” Cazia said. “Where my brother’s bloody coat was found.”

  Treygar’s normally grim expression softened for a moment. “Of course. What did you discover?”

  “Very little, thanks to the overeager servants in this place. The spot was almost completely cleaned by the time we arrived. However, I did see a bloody handprint on the outside of the wall, as though Col was trying to climb out of the fort.”

  “He couldn’t have, not without a rope.”

  “I know. But if he were trying to escape a grunt, or to push it over the wall….” Stoneface gave her a doubtful look and she nearly lost her temper. Better to change the subject. “Where is Lar?”

  “The squad accompanied him down to the medical chamber. Now that you two are here, I think we—”

  “There’s our little killer!” It was Commander Gerrit, striding across the yard toward them. Earlier, he’d been scowling at Cazia with that scarred, ugly face, but now he beamed at her. “That was quite a shot you took. My best archers would not have risked it.”

  Cazia didn’t trust his sudden change of mood. “I am not an archer. I’m a scholar.”

  Treygar scowled at that and peered carefully at her face. Gerrit didn’t seem to care. “Still! I should offer you a watch on the walls. That’s a compliment, by the way.”

  Cazia took a deep breath. He was trying to be nice to her, and she was responding with a stink face. Whether he was an Enemy or not, he was too powerful to antagonize without good reason. “Thank you. Lar is my cousin, my friend, and my king. I will do whatever he needs from me. Can I have my quiver back?”

  “I’ll see you get a bigger one.” Gerrit turned to Treygar. “What did I say, Tejohn? What we need are hunters.”

  Treygar shook his head. “That was different from the ones who came through the portal in Peradain. It was smaller and darker, for one thing. For another...” He stepped aside, revealing the dead grunt on the ground behind him. Cazia couldn’t help it. She gasped. “The ones in the capital didn’t have these spikes on their elbows or thumbs. They didn’t have the thickened hide on their backs. No stripes. No wrinkles at the brow.”

  “Yes, I know,” Gerrit interrupted. “And they were the color of pretty purple flowers. So, what do we have here? A youngster?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well,” Gerrit said, “I just wish you hadn’t brought it here.”

  Cazia spun on him, startled. “There’s blood on the northern wall where my brother’s coat was found. Don’t you think the creature came over the wall there?”

  “I do not.” Gerrit’s face was set. “We have watches, young lady, not just inside the fort, and they are good soldiers. Careful soldiers. They would have seen a creature like this before it ever reached the walls, let alone while it was climbing them.”

  “What makes you sure I brought it here?” Treygar’s tone wasn’t offended or upset, only curious, as though they were working out an intricate puzzle together.

  “Nothing has come inside these walls for the past ten days but you. You landed on a moonless night, in the center of the yard. The grunts are strong; you said so yourself. It must have clung to the bottom of the cart--by the axles, perhaps--for the trip. When you landed, it was frightened by the torches and spears, and fled across the yard.”

  Cazia didn’t like the way that sounded. “I think we would have seen it.”

  “You were all looking at the captain of the guard. And why not? He attracts a lot of attention when he’s waving a spear point in your face. This old fort has dozens of unused rooms and passages. The beast must have hidden itself until it could no longer deny its hunger. Perhaps it tried to make its way to the wall to escape and there met your unfortunate brother. Then, seeing the heights it would have to descend, it went straight below to the pens.”

  “All this would make sense if we were talking about bears or lions,” Treygar said. “But not these creatures.”

  “In Peradain,” Cazia said, “the grunts rushed forward into battle.”

  “Young lady,” Gerrit said, “beasts of the wilderness do not go into battle.”

  His tone was so condescending that Cazia had a sudden urge to kick his iron-covered shins. A sudden memory of the grunts breaking through the scholars’ wall of flame made her wince. “You weren’t even there!”

  Gerrit bared his teeth. “The day I need counsel from the daughter of a—”

  “Commander Gerrit,” Stoneface said. His voice was calm and cool, and it took Gerrit’s attention just as it had taken the driver’s during their flight from the city. “She has seen battle for the first time after a life in the palace. Haven’t you noticed that she has the flinches?”

  “What?” Cazia had no idea what they were talking about, but she was sure she didn’t like it. “What do you mean?”

  “Fire take me,” Gerrit said. “I’m a slow-witted old fool. My apologies, young lady. I--I will be about my duties, my tyr.”

  Treygar nodded to him as he backed away. “Wait,” Cazia said. She didn’t know what they were talking about, and she feared that if she asked them to explain, they would assume she didn’t understand anything. “My brother. There was blood on the outside of the wall, I swear. The creature could have come that way, couldn’t it?”

  “It could have, yes,” Gerrit answered. Now he sounded as though he was humoring her, and that made her hate him all the more. “If we believe it slipped by the watches and scaled the wall without being seen, and if we believe as well that there is another portal out in the Sweeps somewhere, a new portal that we’ve never even heard of before.” He stroked his beard. “I am sorry, young lady, but while that is possible, I think my explanation is more likely. However, I will double the watches. Is that all?”

  The man’s stubbornness infuriated her, but she began to wonder if her anger was stronger than it should have been. “No,” Cazia said, pretending his Is that all was meant for her. “We still haven’t found my brother’s body. I think he fell outside the fort, and I would like to go out to search for h
im.”

  The commander’s expression made it plain that he was about to refuse her, but he said, “Yes, but not today. We have injured and dead within the walls already, and Colchua Freewell might lie here somewhere, as yet undiscovered, in a basement chamber. We must also conduct another search in case there are more creatures. Give us a day or two to look inside before we search without.”

  He left without waiting for her answer.

  She was about to stomp off to her room, where she could do nothing but pound her fists against her bed, when Stoneface touched her shoulder.

  “Lar is below,” the old man said, “at the sleepstones with the others.”

  “Others?”

  “He was not the first one bitten, but he was the first to be put onto a sleepstone. He will be unconscious for a while, the scholar said, but when he wakes, I’m sure he will want to see you.”

  The kindness in his tone was so startling that she almost burst into tears. “I will be there with him.”

  “Good. Be sure to collect that large quiver from Commander Gerrit first. Lar also told me, as he was being carried off, that I should speak with you about Doctor Warpoole.”

  “Oh!” Cazia had nearly forgotten about that. She’d gone to Lar immediately after the scholar had slapped her and told him everything, but Lar had done little more than frown and thank her. Cazia hadn’t seen the scholar since, although Ciriam collected a platter of food at the great hall several times a day to bring to the commander’s tower.

  But if Treygar wanted something from her, he was going to have to give her more than a few kind words. “What are sinches?” He looked flummoxed by that, until she said, “You told Commander Gerrit that I have them.”

  “Ah. Actually, it’s the flinches. Sometimes when a young soldier sees a particularly horrifying fight--and they do, often--the memory of it will make them flinch involuntarily. You can see it in their face: the image comes back to them at an unexpected moment, and they close their eyes, or bare their teeth, or look away. And sometimes they become jumpy and quick to anger—”

  “I’m not a flower, you know.” Cazia made sure to look him in the face; there wouldn’t be any watching from the side of her eye this time. “I’m not a flimsy little doll.”

  “I have suffered from them myself,” he said in his calm, commanding way. “I was older than you by some years, but those memories have haunted me for all of my life.”

  “Oh,” Cazia said, feeling foolish. He wasn’t insulting her after all, and somehow that didn’t ease her anger. Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to keep a closer watch on herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do to control it?”

  “The only thing that ever worked for me was to talk with friends. Friends or peers, I should say. Grief shared is grief lessened.”

  “Thank you. About Doctor Warpoole... Her loyalty to Lar is not decided. I’m not sure what she’s going to ask for, but she seems to think he needs her more than she needs him.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  The way he said that made Cazia shiver. She pushed on. “Did you see the spell she cast at the top of the tower? Just before we closed the trap on the grunts?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’d never seen one like it. I have not been taught all thirteen of the Evening People’s Gifts, but I know them by sight. The spell she cast was not a Gift.”

  “What’s this?” Tejohn took a step closer to her, lowering his voice and glancing around as though he was afraid someone would overhear.

  “It was a green mist that floated down into the tower, melting wood and flesh like water on snow. I swear to you. Her hand motions were unlike any spell I’d every seen, and I have no idea where she learned it.”

  Tyr Treygar’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Are you saying she invented her own spell? That she’s a wizard?”

  Wizards were villains out of children’s stories. “She doesn’t seem like one. She certainly hasn’t gone hollow. I’ve always thought it was forbidden for scholars to learn wizard spells.”

  Treygar’s face was grim. “Do you think the scholars are holding private Festivals to trade with the Evening People in secret?”

  “Through another portal?” Cazia said more sharply than she intended. “Out in the Sweeps?”

  Stoneface glanced up at the cliff where they’d seen the gigantic raptor, and when he looked down again, his expression was grave. “Thank you” was all he said, but from Tyr Treygar’s lips, the words sounded like a death sentence.

  Chapter 11

  By the time the king finished healing, the daylight was nearly spent. Another day lost, but there was little they could do about it.

  Lar Italga made his appearance in the great hall for the evening meal, and Tejohn was startled to see him wearing both armor and scholar’s robe. It was so similar to what Doctor Rexler had worn on that day outside Pinch Hall that for a moment, Tejohn thought the king meant to honor Rexler.

  But no, the king and that dead traitor were nothing alike. Tejohn stood, as did everyone else. The soldiers down on the floor muttered as Lar strode to his place at the table, but Tejohn couldn’t judge their tone. Did they disapprove?

  It seemed not. Tejohn looked again at the hall floor--he hadn’t noticed at first that there were a number of civilians clustered in the near corner. They were mostly farmers and bargemen by the look of them, seeking refuge behind walls in a time of war.

  What’s more, they seemed to be nodding and sharing hopeful looks. Lar was making a good impression here, something he’d never managed in the Morning City.

  “My tyr, it is good to see your scowling face,” Lar said as he sat in the empty chair beside Tejohn. Everyone else sat a moment later.

  “My king, I’m glad to see you as well. I take it you are fully recovered?”

  Lar lowered his voice. “I tried to convince the medical scholar to cast a healing spell on me but she wouldn’t. Apparently, she is still suffering the effects of a midwinter raid. They had too many casualties for the sleepstones, and the repetitive spellcasting put her at risk.”

  Tejohn glanced at the king’s armor and robes. There was no need to ask what she was at risk of. “I understand, my king.” It suddenly occurred to Tejohn that, with the Scholars’ Tower fallen, he had no idea how many medical scholars were left.

  “Tomorrow, we—” Lar stopped and glanced out on the floor.

  The fat-faced guard stood facing the king some distance away. By the sheepish look on his face, Tejohn knew what he would say next. “Permission to speak, my king?”

  Lar smiled down at him. “My substitute weapons master! By all means, approach.”

  The man stepped forward, knelt on one knee--which made him vanish below the edge of the raised table--then stood again. “I am sorry to approach during your meal, my king, but the others have... Actually, they bullied me into asking after your health.”

  Tejohn felt his face grow hot. Was this common soldier questioning the king’s fitness?

  But before he could respond, the king laughed. “Nothing a little snoring couldn’t fix. In truth, I’ve taken longer naps to recover from an attack by several jugs of wine.”

  Soldier and king laughed together. “My king,” the soldier said more quietly. “The men have begun to call you The Laughing King.”

  Lar absent-mindedly touched the white mourning scarf around his throat. “Better that than King Fast-Breaker. That’s what the beast would have made of me. But come. Get to your real question. I can see by your eyes that you are afraid to ask it.”

  The guard worked his lips for a moment--clearly nerves had dried his mouth. Then he said, “Was that one of them, my king? Was that one of the beasts that invaded the capital?”

  This was too much. Tejohn leaned forward and glared at the man. “How long do you intend to interrogate the king?”

  The man flushed, stepped back and knelt. He’d gone too far and he knew it. “Forgive me, my—”

  “Tyr T
reygar is correct,” Lar said. “This is a question for your commanding officer, but as you have been my substitute weapons master, for the moment I believe that would be me. So! The beast you saw this morning was not one of the creatures that attacked Peradain and killed my royal parents, along with countless other good and blameless people. It was a gentle younger brother, slow of foot and weak of jaw, but not nearly as pretty. Do you understand?”

  “I do, my king. Thank you, my king.” He glanced nervously at Tejohn.

  “Now,” Lar said as a steward set a bowl of mutton soup in front of him, “since my weapons master has recovered, I no longer need a substitute. I release you. Resume your previous duties.”

  The guard bowed again. “Always yours, my king.” He backed away, practically fleeing to his table.

  Tejohn watched him closely for some sign of insolence but could detect none. “He was awfully free with your time, my king.”

  “True, but I think I’ve won him to my side. Only a million more to go, eh? But tell me, Tyr Treygar, is it true about Col? Was he killed by the beast?”

  Tejohn felt a familiar sour feeling well up in him. The steward set a bowl of soup in front of him, but he suddenly wanted nothing to do with it. It was time to talk of the dead. “It would seem so, my king. I am sorry. So many of us were wrong about him, and just as he proved himself—”

  “Has his body been found?”

  “No. The soldiers have searched every disused corner and old storage chamber in the fort, but there has been no sign. It appears the Freewell girl was correct; he must have been dumped over the wall.”

  Lar’s face was pale and his lips were pressed together so hard they turned white. “You may call her ‘Cazia,’ my Tyr. That is her name.”

  “My apologies, my king. Our oldest habits are the hardiest.”

  “I want his body found. He and Timush risked their lives when everyone believed they would betray me. I may not be able to give my parents a decent burial, but Fire take us, I can do this for my best friend.”