The Winter Boy

by Sally Wiener Grotta

  Was that what those four out in the greeting room wanted her to see — the ghastly vulnerability of The Valley? No, there must be more to it. She opened the book to the next marked section.

  The southern army had defeated both the northern and northeastern forces by first standing away from the battle, so the two might exhaust each other. Soon, the generals of the south came to divide the spoils. Aefna and some of the younger women were lucky, taken as they were by officers for their own tents. Veitas and the others were given to the rabble. The oldest women were killed; others died of their shame or wounds. But Veitas survived, her spirit never diminished. Even through the rapes and torture, and the terror of watching her followers dwindle to less than a score of broken women, she lived and watched and learned.

  And Veitas said, “If we are to be sex slaves, then sex shall be our tool and our weapon. And we will wield it with all the grace, beauty, sensuality and knowledge we can muster. At no time are your men to know it is a mask you wear. They must believe you are truly enamored of them, would do anything to please them, and while you are with them, you will believe it yourself. For how else are you to abide the ordeal?”

  Aefna asked, “How can sex be a weapon?”

  And Veitas said, “By ensnaring the men, we will have power and influence over them. Though we will be their slaves, unable to leave or refuse them, they will be ours, unable to resist or hide from us. Enslave the enslavers; find their vulnerabilities and use them. Then we will strike.”

  The next section was only a few pages further.

  The valley couldn’t support the entire army of the south through the winter. Once their battle lust was spent and the spoils divided, the bulk of the army left the valley to be quartered closer to the coastline where food and water were plentiful.

  Only Gerone, Aric and his brother Armon, the three commanding generals of the south, remained with a few thousand of their personal forces, as much to enjoy the comforts of the valley through the winter as to develop their strategies for the spring campaigns. Being from the south, they didn’t realize that the mountains that protect us from the fiercest of the winter winds would also seal them in with us, making communication with their armies impossible. Yet the generals were confident that the harsh discipline of their captains and commanders would keep the troops in line. Winter, after all, would last only a few months.

  And Veitas said, “As they did to the armies from the north and northeast, we shall do to them. Allow the three generals to fight our battle by destroying one another. Aefna, Yva and Olane, you three are the favored of Armon, Aric and Gerone, so all depends on you. Each of you must ask your general to tell you of his adventures, then display wonder at his brilliance and bravery. Question aloud why an army needs three commanders when a body requires only one head.

  “Yva, prepare to avenge yourself on Armon. But first, we must build the flames of hatred between the brothers and Gerone. Aefna, whisper to Aric of Gerone’s glances at you and his envy of all that Aric and Armon possess. Warn Aric out of love for him, so he knows that it is your concern for his well-being and your awe of his might that prompts you. You must be delicate with your words, as you are with your body, seducing him to slowly learn to fear and hate Gerone. When Yva finally strikes Armon, you, Olane, must bear witness to Gerone’s treachery. Aric and Gerone will destroy each other, and we shall be free of all of them.”

  Aefna asked, “But these are only the generals. What of the army, which will return in the spring?”

  And Veitas said, “What is the infighting of their leaders to the plain soldier? Once they discover the generals are destroyed, the troops will rebel against all who are above them, while the captains and commanders will vie against one another to take command. Amidst the chaos and broken discipline, they will be unprepared for the springtime battles their enemies are plotting even now.”

  As Veitas planned, so it happened. We whispered to our generals in the night, until they could barely sit in the same room without screaming and threatening one another. Then, one night, before the mountain pass winter snows melted, Yva struck, stabbing Armon in the back, piercing his heart with Gerone’s jeweled knife which Olane had stolen. Yva smeared herself with blood and, running to Aric, cried out for vengeance against Gerone. Aric fell on Gerone, while the soldiers around them rioted, some out of loyalty, others to grab what they could, most because the smell of blood incited them.

  We hid in our cellars for three days, while the fighting raged around us. On the fourth day, we came out and found no living man left in the valley. It was a gruesome task burying the many bodies and cleansing our land, but it was ours once more.

  Only one more leather strip remained, at the very end of the journal.

  For many years, Veitas led and taught us. Slowly, we rebuilt our valley, gathering around us a small circle of communities that chose peace over war, trade over battles. It was a fragile construct, but strengthened a bit more with each new village.

  Veitas lived a long life, much longer than most, and she saw many of her teachings come to fruition. Finally, she could fight no longer, and she called only a few of us to her deathbed.

  And Veitas said, “Soon I will die, my daughters. But because of you, my dream and that of Alleen will live on. Our valley is safe, our people content and well governed, for they govern themselves through consensus. It is a good life we have created. But I am afraid for you and for those who will come after.”

  Aefna asked, “What is it that frightens you, Veitas?”

  And Veitas said, “The Circle of Peace is so very narrow. Even if it covered the earth, terror abides in humankind. We must insure that no army ever again comes to our valley, or anywhere within our Circle of Peace. Never again can we allow our people to become enslaved or enslavers. You must promise me, you five alone, to protect our Peace and our people. But they must never know.”

  Aefna asked, “Why must our people never know? Would you have them forget what it was like before our Peace came?”

  And Veitas said, “No, they must never forget the times before. But should it come to pass that you must commit distasteful acts for the sake of our Peace, I would not have others share the guilt or the responsibility. You will guard our Peace, and like guards in war, you must move silently, doing whatever is necessary to ensure that our people never again submit to the terror we once knew. Do you understand and agree?”

  And Aefna said “We shall guard your Peace, Veitas. Now, and forevermore.”

  Veitas never spoke again.

  As Rishana turned that last page, a small folded piece of paper dropped into her lap, much whiter than the yellowed pages of the book — covered with Jared’s handwriting. Almost afraid to find what it contained, she slowly unfolded the paper and read it.

  Dear S,

  I leave tomorrow on a mission, which may be my last. Jinet sleeps peacefully in our bed, and as I look over at her, I wish I could explain to her why it is so important that I risk my life and our happiness. She thinks I go to hunt a white antelope for our son’s betrothal feast. Perhaps, if I am successful, I will be able to bring one back with me, just to please her.

  I believe this will be the most important mission of my life, for I might yet be able to avert the coming war. You’ll understand when you receive my report, which I sent through our usual secure couriers. But that will take longer than a simple letter. So I send this to apologize for not informing you about this opportunity and awaiting your approval. I cannot delay, nor would I be willing to not go, even if you asked me.

  If this meeting goes well, I will come to The Valley immediately after my son’s betrothal to give you a full report. If it doesn’t, then I ask you to help Jinet understand. My life with her is so very precious, but what is one life when the future of our Peace is at stake? I must make this rendezvous, even if I never come back from it.

  Yours, J.

  She had thought she’d spent all her tears on Jared’s death, that her mourning had been over for years. But w
hen she pictured Jared sitting at his desk writing this letter, while she had slept blissfully unaware, new tears streamed unchecked. One drop fell on the journal, and for that she was sorry, for it was so very old and fragile. She folded the letter, put it back into the book, and went out to confront the Guardians.

  Chapter 79

  When Rishana returned to the greeting room, she sat in the same bentwood chair. She looked at each Allesha, her eyes finally falling on Savah/Peren. “What was Jared’s last mission? Who was he meeting?”

  Peren sighed deeply. “We never found out.”

  “But his report, the one he sent you by courier…”

  “Never arrived.”

  Rishana was about to challenge Peren’s denial, then realized that wasn’t the point. “Who were the couriers he would have used?”

  “Fellow Allemen.” Peren’s voice was hollow. “It was the beginning. To discover that an Alleman might not be trustworthy…”

  “Did no one know Jared’s plans? What about Eli?”

  “No, Jin… Rishana, no one.”

  That one slip, almost calling her by the name of her former life, their former relationship, convinced Rishana that Peren was telling her the truth and that the old Allesha was unnerved by it.

  “You and your accursed secrecy.” With a sweep of her hand, Rishana included all four in her condemnation. “If you hadn’t built up so many layers of intrigue, if Jared had told his plans to someone, anyone…”

  “Yes.” Ayne wielded her agreement like a wedge, creating an opening through which she could force the conversation’s direction. “But whom could he trust?”

  “The two people he should have trusted above all else, you had taught him to doubt. His wife and son.”

  “No, Rishana, Jared never doubted you,” Peren protested. “He needed to protect you, not involve you.”

  “Not involve me in his choices and his risks? I was his wife, his partner. You take your secrecy too far, cutting yourself off from the people you need most.”

  Hester smiled, only a small upturning of her lips, though it seemed sincere. “Perhaps that’s why we need you, to remind us.”

  “No, you need me because my boy is the key.”

  “That’s an important part of it, but who do you think selected you for the boy?” Dara asked.

  “I want to be sure I understand clearly what you are asking: you want me to become a Guardian?”

  “Yes.” Ayne and Peren answered at the same time, but quite differently. Peren with all the warmth she could put into her posture and voice; Ayne a void with all emotion tightly withheld.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “Then everything will return to the way it was before, with you being kept in ignorance of the futures planned for your boy and son.” What was it about Ayne’s eyes that bothered Rishana so deeply?

  “You would have little influence over that future,” Peren added. “And would never know what you could have achieved or helped to avert.”

  “How do you know that I won’t betray you?”

  “You’d do nothing that might endanger your First Boy.” Ayne’s voice held only the slightest tinge of threat. “Any betrayal of us would also be a betrayal of him, exposing him to his enemies before he — and we — are ready.”

  Rishana opened “Veitas Dialogues” to Jared’s letter. “You said we’re the only ones alive who have read this book. Did Jared?”

  Peren stared at the letter. “No, but he knew some of what it contained.”

  “And Caith?”

  “Yes, she had read it,” Peren replied.

  “Was she a Guardian?”

  “No,” Ayne said. “She chose to not join when our predecessors asked her, and I believe she chose wisely. Caith was unique, a great teacher and remarkable observer, but she had her quirks. However, she did report to us from time to time.”

  “If she had reported more often, she might still be alive.” Hester’s words were clipped, her tone prickly. Rishana couldn’t tell if it were Caith’s death that Hester resented or Caith’s exclusion of them.

  “Yet you would cut me out should I refuse.”

  “You’re not Caith; the role you’re destined for is not as a mere observer,” Peren said.

  “Destined, or designed by you?”

  “Some of both,” Dara admitted. “But only in the same manner that you and I worked with the boy until his true nature could be revealed and strengthened. Rishana, you were the right Allesha for him, and you are the best candidate for a Guardian we’ve seen in a long time.”

  “Are there others?”

  “No, only us.” Hester answered, thinking Rishana was referring to Guardians.

  While Ayne said, “None we have invited to join us,” assuming Rishana was asking about candidates.

  “If the Guardians have been able to remain hidden, how do you know The Valley doesn’t have other secret circles that influence and manipulate the Council?”

  “Alliances will inevitably form from loyalties and friendships, cliques that anyone can see.” Ayne dismissed the idea, but with a hard edge that shielded her true thoughts.

  “However, we didn’t see the connections between Kiv, Elnor, Devra and Beatrice. Perhaps there are others.” Was Hester contradicting Ayne, or being more forthcoming?

  “That’s the kind of information Caith was so adept at uncovering.” Dara stared off into her memories. “Which may be why she was killed.”

  Rishana felt chilled by Dara’s accusation and thought back on what she had just read. “Have the Guardians ever used assassination?”

  “Not in recent times,” Hester answered.

  But Peren amended it. “Not that we know.”

  “Would you?”

  “Rishana, you’ve helped inventory the storehouse armory; you know all that it holds. Just because we have so many weapons doesn’t mean we plan to use them. Still, we have them, and we will use them if they are ever needed,” Ayne said. “We Guardians have our own tools, which we will implement if our Peace is threatened — including assassination.”

  “However,” Hester said, “we have the benefit of the experience of generations of Guardians who developed other, more effective, less conspicuous methods which create fewer problems.”

  “Still, to be a Guardian is to accept the fact that someday you might have to order an assassination, reluctantly — and only after trying everything else — but resolutely.” Something about the way Ayne’s hands curled tightly in her lap made Rishana wonder if the old woman were speaking from personal experience.

  “I don’t believe I could do that.”

  “Not even to save your Winter Boy… or your son?” Hester asked. “Or, if one death could avert a war?”

  “Do you think that’s what Jared was doing?”

  “We can only guess, but it doesn’t seem likely,” Ayne said.

  Rishana remembered Eli’s eyes when he confessed he had killed. “Was Jared an assassin?” she asked.

  Peren paled at the suggestion. “No, never!”

  “But he had killed.” Saying it, Rishana knew it was true.

  “Three times,” Peren admitted. “Once when he was ambushed, another when Mistral was about to be attacked.”

  “And the third time?”

  “That’s a long story.” Again, Ayne was dismissive, blocking the path of conversation.

  So she hadn’t been shown all of Jared’s journals. “In other words, it’s another of your secrets.”

  “One you may eventually know, but not today,” Ayne answered.

  Rishana chose not to argue the issue; she had more immediate puzzles to unravel. “Dara, you said that being one who trained problem boys made you suitable for the Guardians, but Hester and Peren didn’t specialize in problem boys.”

  “They were needed for other qualities. Hester for her precise, orderly thinking. Peren for her scholarship and deep understanding of our history.”

  “As far as we know, one of the Guardians has always been a librarian
,” Ayne added. “It helps us control who has access to the true histories.”

  “One thing I don’t understand. You know I abhor these intrigues, that I don’t believe I could order an assassination. Yet you want me to join you as a Guardian. Is it that you believe you can change my mind?”

  “Partially, but perhaps you’ll also change us.”

  “Ayne, you really are a master at this, aren’t you?” Rishana said bitterly.

  “Yes, she is,” Hester agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you have the strength of will and intellect to influence us. To become a Guardian is to be one who affects others, including other Guardians.”

  “If I agree, what is the new role you would have me assume?”

  “To start, we’ll need you to work more closely with us, to coordinate your boy’s future,” Dara replied.

  “Tell me your plans.”

  “Are you agreeing to join us? Or are you still asking questions?” Ayne asked.

  Rishana studied each of the Guardians: Hester, always the Healer, never satisfied with easy answers. Dara, the sculptor of clay and people, who wielded her chisel so delicately that Rishana could only guess at all that Dara had done to her. Peren, the scholar, who had always seemed so nurturing and knowledgeable. And Ayne, who led them with an iron will and unreadable mask. Then she glanced at Jared’s letter, its words already seared into her memory. “Both,” she answered. “I will join you and honor your secrecy, but I must have answers.”

  “And we must have your questions,” Ayne said, the first hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth, though that, too, was undoubtedly purposeful.

  Chapter 80

  Tayar was late coming home, so Dov prepared their supper alone. Tomorrow, the End of Season Service Days would begin, and he wanted to make the evening a celebration. Yet, a part of him felt there was nothing to celebrate.