Peter accepted the cup from my hand as I offered it back to him. "I take your meaning. You are saying that the gods' law could have been reformed rather than eliminated. But the Chara has not forbidden religion in this land. The Koretians are free to worship the gods, in the same way as many Arpeshians and Marcadians continue to do."
"The Chara has forbidden the use of religion in deciding matters of the law. I am not against the Emorian court system; I think that it corrects an imbalance in the gods' law, a tendency to interpret the gods' wishes in a manner that best suits the priests. But I think that the Chara's law is also lacking in balance, in an ability to take fully into account a prisoner's character when passing a judgment. That can be done under Emorian law, but not to the same extent as the gods' law allows it, for in Koretia the gods judge men for all the deeds of their lives, not only for the deeds of a single moment."
"Well," said Peter, leaning back against the wall, "I doubt that we will come to an agreement about this."
"That is exactly my point," said John. "We will never agree about this, any more than the Koretians will ever agree with the Emorians about how to run this land. That is why they are seeking release from the bonds of the Chara's tyranny."
Peter's expression darkened, and I saw that he was close to casting judgment upon John. If this happened, there was a good chance that his look as the Chara would surface, and then his identity would be revealed. I made a small movement to distract his attention. He glanced my way, and his expression relaxed.
John continued, "I do not mean that the Chara intends to be a tyrant. His errors are the result of his ignorance of Koretian customs and his unwillingness to accept that Koretians do not wish to separate their religion from their public lives. I cannot blame the Chara for wishing to rule this land in an Emorian manner. That merely shows why he ought not to be ruling Koretia."
Peter looked steadily at John, his fingers dipping down into the wine he had not sipped for some time. "Then we come back to the question of who should rule Koretia, and that is a question which must be settled before all others."
I had been reaching over to move the wine pitcher. I nearly spilled it. Peter had that effect on me sometimes. I would think that I knew all that he thought and felt, and then I would discover, without warning, that his thoughts had been in a different place altogether than mine.
That the Chara had been considering granting Koretia its freedom he had never hinted to me.
If John was disconcerted by Peter's leap forward, he gave no sign of it. He asked calmly, "Why do you say that, Lord Peter?"
Peter stood suddenly, walked over to the door, and opened it. I wondered whether he had grown concerned that someone was listening to this conversation – one of the Jackal's thieves, perhaps. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, staring out at the corridor. When he had closed and locked the door and returned to where he had been before, he said, "I am Emorian, and I cannot help but be concerned with laws and with order. I see what I imagine the Chara sees as well: that the Chara cannot simply give freedom to this land while the people are without a ruler and while this land has no courts of its own, no central army, nothing that would keep Koretia from collapsing back into civil war. He must give the government over to a ruler until the Koretians have a chance to rebuild their government, create their own law-system, and choose whether they want this man or another to rule over them. Now, who shall the Chara appoint for such a duty? A nobleman who has supported the governor? I doubt that the Koretians would accept him. The Jackal or one of his thieves? The Koretians would accept this but the Chara would not, because he does not wish to arm the hunting god. In any case, Emor cannot withdraw its soldiers and court officials immediately, lest Koretia be destroyed, and since it cannot, the Chara needs someone in power who can both bring peace to the Koretians and work in peace with Emor. Where will the Chara go to find such a man?"
John was silent for a moment, his eyes suddenly distant in a manner that made my back tingle at the memory. Then he said quietly, "If I were the Chara, I would seek the god's command."
"I hope," said Lord Carle from the doorway, "that you are not advising us to place ourselves under the command of Koretian gods. I would say that one god at least is busy enough tonight without our bothering him."
I had been surprised to discover that John had made his way through a locked door; to discover that Lord Carle had managed to pick a lock surprised me not at all. Nor, it seemed, did this cause any questions to rise in Peter's mind; his thoughts were elsewhere. Lifting his head suddenly, like a dog scenting danger, he asked, "What is it?"
"Lord Dean and I have been on the roof. You had best see for yourself."
Peter was on his feet immediately, but John was already out the door and racing down the corridor. We followed him to a stairway and scrambled up after him onto the roof.
Many centuries ago, when there was danger of the Daxion army invading the border from either side of the mountain, the priests' house had been equipped with two square lookout towers. One tower lay at the east end of the roof and the other on the west end. The towers were only slightly taller than the roof connecting them. We found Lord Dean standing on the western tower, leaning his arms onto the stone parapet and staring meditatively at the view to the northeast. He did not turn as we joined him at the parapet.
It was twilight, and night's shadow had spread its cloak across the land. To the west of us, the Daxion border mountains were silhouetted against the shell-pink setting sun. To the east, the coastal waters were lit by the rising moon. The war moon – that was what the Koretians called the full moon, because it shone like a silver blade.
Down in the darkened countryside was evidence of the moon's power.
It was a flame, glowing from the dark land like a red star blazing in the night sky, but larger than any star would be. From this distance, it looked like nothing more than a hearth-fire, but since we were far away, it must be something greater.
"Where is that?" asked Peter.
"Valouse," replied John. He was staring at the fire intently, as though he could see what was happening in the streets there. "It is a large town, with its own garrison. Also, the governor has been sending army divisions there for the past two weeks. There have been hints that riots were about to occur, and he wanted more soldiers there to control the Koretians."
Peter murmured, "May your gods watch over them."
"The soldiers or the Koretians?"
"Both." Peter was silent a moment, as though trying to hear the screams in the town. Then he asked, "How far is the town from here?"
"Lord Peter." The speaker was Lord Dean, turning his gaze for the first time toward the Chara. "It will do Emor no good if we enter into battle now. Our duty lies at the governor's palace, not Valouse."
I did not hear Peter's reply, for at that moment John pushed himself away from the parapet and walked rapidly from the tower. After a moment's hesitation I followed, and caught up with him finally at the eastern tower, staring out at the same view.
From this high up, we could hear no sounds of the night except the occasional cries of the doves settling for the night in the cotes near us, as well as snatches of the raised voices of Lord Dean and Lord Carle as they argued with Peter. I looked sidelong at John. His eyes were calm as he stared out at the burning town, but there was a tightness about his mouth.
He said, "My duty lay in Valouse tonight. That was where I was planning to go."
"Then it's good that you didn't," I said. "You might have lost your life there."
John said softly, "A trader friend of mine asked me to come. He said that he needed my help on some business. I would be at his side now if I hadn't stayed here."
I could think of nothing to say in reply at first, so I glanced over at the western tower, where Peter was standing like an immovable rock as the waves of his council lords' arguments crashed about him. "My master has a strong sense of duty as well. The other lords don't seem to be having much success in convinci
ng him to stay away from Valouse."
"Is he your blood brother?"
I jerked my head back toward John. He was leaning against the tower wall, facing me, and his expression was unreadable.
I said, "Emorians don't have blood brothers."
"That doesn't answer my question."
I looked over at the Chara, still battling with silence the suggestions that he keep himself from danger. Next to me, John waited in similar silence.
Finally I met John's eyes and said, "You are my only blood brother, but Peter is . . ." I tried to think of a way to explain what we were to one another, and then settled for the words that, to an Emorian, would be sufficient explanation. "We share the same cup of wine."
John nodded as though he understood. I asked, "How did you guess?"
"He told me himself when he gave me the free-man's greeting. He wouldn't have greeted me in such a way if he hadn't already done so to my blood brother." He waited for me to say something more, and when I did not, he added gently, "I'm glad to know that you have a friend in Emor. Don't be upset about this."
"It isn't that," I said. "I'm only sorry that I didn't tell you myself."
I sensed that John had a reply ready, but he focussed his view back on Valouse before replying. "Andrew, I know that you've always believed me unworldly, but I'm not a fool. I know that your party is here, not only as diplomats, but also as spies for the Chara, finding out what you can about the Koretians and giving away as little information as possible about yourselves. I knew before I spoke to you that those would be the new terms of our friendship. It did not pain me to accept those terms. You are Emorian and I am Koretian, but it doesn't change what we are to each other. If we must keep secrets from each other for the sake of our lands, it will not change the oath we made to be blood brothers, beyond death. Nothing can change that, because our friendship was ordained by the gods."
I continued watching John's serene face for a while; then I switched my gaze back to Peter. He was speaking in a low voice that did not carry over to where we were. I asked, "What do you think of him?"
John paused a long time before answering, as though his answer was a summary of all that had happened that evening. "I can see why you are friends. He fascinates me. I'm glad to have met him, and I wish that I could talk with him more. I suppose, though, that once you reach the governor's palace, you'll be unable able to leave."
"Peter won't be able to," I said, "but I'll certainly slip out and see you when I can."
"Then come to the market and ask for John the trader. My house lies nearby, and anyone can direct you to it."
He stopped as Lord Carle appeared suddenly at the foot of the short flight of steps leading to our tower. Peter and Lord Dean were following a short distance behind, deep in conversation with one another. Lord Carle said, "Lord Dean has managed to convince your master that the quickest way to bring war to this land would be for an Emorian lord to deliver himself into the hands of the Jackal. I imagine that if your master had had his way, he would be charging up the road toward Valouse right now, waving his sword and acting as vanguard to the army that was nowhere behind him."
Lord Carle paused, and for a moment his eyes slid between me and my dark-skinned blood brother. Then he said coolly, "But since you are, as you have so often told us, a loyal Emorian, perhaps you yourself planned to be your master's army. You would of course have to act like any other Emorian soldier, imprisoning and killing and raping the Koretians. Well, perhaps not raping; I doubt somehow that lovemaking was in your plans for the future."
"Lord Carle." It was Peter, who had carefully placed himself so that his back was to John and me. I could guess that this was because his face had grown cold in the manner of the Chara in judgment, if only from the manner in which Lord Carle turned pale. The council lord turned stiffly to face the Chara. Though he kept from bowing to the man who was now supposed to be a fellow lord, his gaze fell to the ground. Peter said with quiet hardness, "I would like to speak to you privately, if I may."
Lord Carle said nothing, but nodded and walked away. Peter's face returned to normal and he began to follow, but he hesitated and looked up to where John and I stood. John had turned his back on the proceedings, and his eyes were fixed once more on the town.
Peter stepped lightly up the steps, came over to where I stood, and spoke gently to me, as though John were not at my side. "Andrew, he is angry about Valouse, that is all. Don't let this spark your own anger. The last thing that I need on this trip is for you and Lord Carle to cut each other's throats."
I said in a dull voice, "I've tired of fighting him in any case. He has won every battle we have waged since the very first one – as he so kindly reminded me just now. You needn't fear that I'll cut his or any other man's throat on this trip."
Peter began to speak, looked back at where Lord Carle and Lord Dean were disappearing down the roof stairs, and nodded to me, then left.
I turned back to the view. After a minute, John said, "At least there's no breeze tonight. If the winds were up, half this land might burn, but I think that Valouse's moat will be able to contain the flames."
He would not ask me, I knew. Nor was he likely to guess, for only a few outward clues might have revealed my secret shame. My boyish appearance he had already dismissed as unimportant. I had no beard, but I had solved that problem by living in a land of beardless men. The differences to my body were either hidden under my tunic or could pass as normal; tall men with long limbs are common enough to cause no question. As for my voice, I had long since trained myself to speak in the man's voice that would never come to me by nature.
Speaking in that voice now, in a detached manner, I said, "Lord Carle was my first master. He is a man with a strong belief in discipline and order, and when I originally came to Emor, I had no interest in following Emorian laws or adopting Emorian ways of behavior. And so, since I disobeyed Lord Carle's first command, he had me gelded."
There followed one sound – John's breath swiftly rushing in – and one gesture – his hand curling into a fist. It was, for John, as though he had lifted his dagger and given a shout of rage. He did not look my way but said, with an edge to his voice as sharp as a blade, "The Emorians did that to you?"
"Lord Carle had it done to me. Peter would never have done it."
John was silent a long time before saying, "Perhaps. But your master strikes me as a man who is as interested in laws and discipline as any other Emorian. And the soldiers who are down there in Valouse tonight are no more bloodthirsty than any Koretians. They are simply following the customs of Emor, which say that they must maintain discipline at any price."
I said softly, "You won't tell anyone of this?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John looking my way. "You know that I won't. But it's as honorable as any other war wound. You ought not to be ashamed."
"I'm not," I said, "except when I see the look in the face of a woman who has just discovered what I am."
Many minutes passed before John spoke again. Finally he sighed. "Andrew, I must go to Valouse tonight. The fighting will be over before I arrive, but if he has survived, my trader friend will need my help, as others may."
I said, "I suppose that the best that you can do for them is pray to the gods. The gods listen to you in a way that they don't listen to the rest of us."
"I wish that that were true," said John, "but I have been praying for peace for a long time now, and it seems further away than ever."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Next morning, as we passed through the city gates, we met John again.
I had lingered at the gates as the rest of the party rode forward, because from this vantage point I could see down into the rest of the city. Most of the city was unfamiliar – the fire had cleansed the capital of its past. The houses I had played amidst had been replaced by an Emorian army camp; the streets were in a new pattern, as though a spider had rewoven its web during the night. My eyes sought one of the few remaining landmarks of my chil
dhood: Council Hill, still covered on its slopes with trees, but now capped by a miniature version of the building that was my home. Another palace, another place of imprisonment for Peter.
Something to the side of me caught my eye. It was John, sitting on a traders' mule and gazing upon the city with a strange, tender look. Dark circles smudged the skin under his eyes, and his face was solemn.
He looked over at me and said, "I saw you ahead on the road. I thought I would catch up." He had changed from his priestly robe into the dark tunic that traders wear, but unlike most Koretian men, he bore no weapon. To the left side of his chest, pinned over his heart, was one of the tiny, wooden god-masks that Koretians wear for protection. The mask was black on black clothing, hard to see even at close range, and I leaned over with curiosity to discover which god John had chosen to place himself under the care of. It took me a moment to realize that John was wearing a mask that no Koretian ever wore: the mask of the Unknowable God.
The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) Page 70