“Then will you speak to her for us?”
Shuskara nodded. “That is why I am here. I am to see her this evening. I will send a message to you. I doubt you will see me again. It does me no good to be connected with you.”
He stood and knocked on the door and the guard opened it.
Reluctant to return to the squalid cell, Arish said hastily, “You never told me why you owe my father a life.”
Shuskara shook his head and frowned. “My memory,” he said gruffly, and he waved away the guard and sat down again.
He said nothing for a while and Arish thought he had forgotten the question again, but at last the general said, “I was sixteen when your father became Lion of the East, and he was eighteen. We were the closest of friends, closer than brothers. I mourned his father’s death more than I was to mourn my own father’s a year later. Since we were young your father told me he would make me his first general when he was king, and I never doubted that. He was always a boy of his word, and when he became a man that did not change.
“Your country was always at war with somebody,” Shuskara continued. “Later it went to war with the City, but at the time they were allies, and the Lion’s main enemy was Tanares. The country no longer exists, but at the time it stretched along the tree-lined valley of the lower Arceton, called the Shining River, to the east, in the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon. There were constant skirmishes and the border constantly changed. The people of the valley suffered grievously in those days, for the Lion’s soldiers often took them for Tanaree, and the Tanaree believed they supported the Lion.
“It is commonplace during wartime to think that all death and horror that falls on us is a result of the conflict, so when reports came to the Lion’s Palace that the people of the valley, men, women and children, simple peasants, were being crucified in their hundreds, we condemned the Tanaree for their cruel practices. Perhaps they in their turn blamed us, and it was a long while before our intelligence told us that the atrocities were the responsibility of a band of Garian warriors from the north. These Garians believed, perhaps they still believe if any survive, that those who do not share their religion should suffer torment and death. The more exquisite the torture the more honour to their blood-drenched gods.”
Arish saw his jaw clench and his eyes harden as he thought back down the years.
“I was sent with a small army to the valley to track down these Garians. You know, Arish, I have been a soldier for more years than I care to remember and I have seen some terrible deaths. I have inflicted them myself. But at the time I was hardly more than a boy, and the sights I saw stained my soul forever.”
He stood and paced the white room. Arish saw he favoured his right knee. The older Fell, battle-hardened, would have noticed other injuries suffered by the general and adapted to over the many years.
“We did not hunt down all the Garian bandits,” explained Shuskara, “but our army’s presence stopped the killings, and I returned to the Lion’s Palace older and wiser, but with a dark place in my soul.
“By the end of the summer the Garians had been wiped out or had fled, and at the turn of the year we heard that their leader had been captured. His name was Malkus Tesserian.
“Now Malkus Tesserian was my sword master when I was a child living in Odrysia. He was huge and bearded, and a devout Garian, and I found it amusing as a child to see him worshipping what looked to me like children’s dolls. He was a stern man, and humourless, but a good teacher and he treated me and the other children fairly enough. I found it hard to imagine the sword master I knew inflicting the horrors I had seen, but I knew terrible things were done in the name of religion.
“I thought about it for several days—the time it took for Tesserian to be delivered to the palace by our troops. Finally, when our victorious army was in sight I went to your father and asked him to spare the life of the captured leader. Looking back I can only guess what I was thinking. Your father was surrounded by his advisors, the old counsellors his father relied on, and the young men who fawned upon him, hoping for a place in his inner circle. I cannot remember, but I imagine that I hoped to demonstrate to them the power I wielded over the new king, my influence as his good friend. I don’t know.
“He had already been advised by those around him to kill Tesserian justly, in the way he had killed others. But your father listened to me. I told him the man had been a good teacher to me, that any skill I had with a sword was down to his early tutelage. This was false modesty. I knew I could wield the blade better than anyone there, including your father.
“The counsellors were all angered by my request and they argued with me that the man should die, but your father said nothing, although his eyes grew cold.
“At last he nodded and said, ‘Very well, Shuskara. And what should we do with him? Let him go?’
“I hadn’t really thought that far. I said, ‘He should be returned to his stronghold and told that if he ever crosses the Shining River again he will be executed.’
“Your father looked at me hard. ‘It will be as you say, my friend.’ It was the last time he was to call me friend. ‘But now you owe me a life.’
“You have probably guessed already that the man brought before us was not my old tutor. It was his son, of the same name, a man touched by the gods of chaos, a killer who delighted in the torment of others and who felt no remorse, no pity, no mercy. He was released and sent back to his home, where he continued to kill and torture until he was executed by the soldiers of Randell Kerr a year later.
“I left the Lion’s Palace the next day, and never returned. I believe it lies abandoned now.”
The trial of the six boys was not held in the emperor’s Great Hall, or in the Court of Law, where most criminals were brought for a show of justice. The day after Arish met Shuskara the captives were taken from their grim cell, sluiced down with icy water to take some of the stink off them, fed some watery gruel, and led back through the tunnels. When they were brought, blinking, into the light they found themselves in the Circle of Combat, an ancient stone amphitheatre in the south of the City, once used for gladiatorial displays, now abandoned to the rats and red ants.
It was early morning and the pale sun had barely cleared the crumbling walls of the arena, and the boys were left in the middle of the sand still chained together. But they were now in the custody of soldiers, not dungeon guards. Arish asked for water and it was brought to them. Then he asked for food and they were given good fresh bread and a little meat and some fruit. So it was that by noon, when spectators started to gather, that the boys felt stronger than they had in days.
Arish had not told them a woman was to speak for them, for he had received no message from the general, and he did not want to discourage the others with news which might prove false. He only told them the general was finding an advocate.
So when a woman walked across the sand towards them they only stared at her. Even Arish did not realise who she was, for he had little experience of women beyond the old servants who dished out their meals in barracks and the skinny whores they eyed hungrily on street corners. This woman was tall, taller than most men, and with the bearing of a general. She wore long robes in shades of blue, and her snowy hair lay in a thick plait on her shoulder. Despite the whiteness of her hair her face was unlined, grave, and with a beauty that stopped the heart. Arish and the others shied away a little as she walked up to them, for this was a creature as strange to them as the white panther of the Mountains of the Moon or the speckled phoenix of the Wester Isles.
She did not appear to notice, and she smiled and said, “I am Archange Vincerus. I am your advocate. I will speak for you today.” She looked assessingly at the silent boys. “You must tell me exactly what happened on the wilding.”
At first they all blurted out the story in an incoherent jumble, and she listened, black eyes flickering from one to another, until she held up a hand and they fell silent. She pointed to Sami.
“You tell,” she comma
nded, and Sami told their story carefully, leaving nothing out, and she listened. She asked the boy a few questions. Then she said, “You will not be allowed to speak at your trial. Is there anything else you wish to tell me, or ask me, before it starts?”
The smallest boy, Evan, piped up, “The dogs ate my brother.”
Archange looked down at him for a long moment. “What is your name?” she asked gently.
“Evan Quin,” the child said, stumbling over the last name as if he was not used to saying the word. “Conor was my big brother. The dogs killed him and ate him up.” His pale eyes welled up, and he said, “They were bad dogs.”
Archange nodded, and she asked them all their names, and their fathers’ names, looking at each one gravely and with concentration. Then she turned and walked back across the arena to where the nobles were filling the imperial stand. Arish saw her talking to someone, and realised it was Shuskara. He wanted to wave, to attract the man’s attention, but the general had his eyes averted from the sand. He nodded as Archange spoke. His face was very sad. Arish felt hope draining away.
The emperor was joined on his gold balcony by the two men chosen to decide the boys’ fate with him. Arish later found out that these were Goldinus Vara, the wealthy owner of a fleet of trading ships, who had been given this entertaining role in lieu of payment of an imperial shipping contract, and Bal Carissa, an ancient seer and long-standing advisor to the king, who was so far into his dotage that he was unlikely to understand what was taking place in front of his nose. Arish squinted to make out the emperor, but all he could see was a fair, bearded man.
The air was hot and dry. The sand seemed to suck all moisture from it, and the water they had drunk hours before was just a memory. The arena was a bowl of sunlight. Arish felt light-headed, and when at last the prosecutor walked out in front of the eager crowd he had to concentrate hard to understand his words.
It was a soldier, in the uniform of a senior general, with a sword at his hip. Arish felt his spirits lift a little. A soldier would understand the need to kill the dogs. A soldier would not lie down and let himself be killed, by man or by dog.
But as the general addressed the emperor Arish listened in rising disbelief.
“My lord emperor,” the man cried, “you have done me a great service today. Few people are lucky enough to win the chance to speak on behalf of the emperor, for the Immortal needs no one to represent him. His word is law, his smallest whim a command, his every command writ in the stones of eternity.”
Arish heard Sami give a small discouraged sigh, and he turned his head a fraction and they exchanged glances.
“But this day,” the general went on, “the emperor has shown his generosity, his magnanimity, his imperial munificence and, rather than simply have these young thugs executed, as all sane men know they deserve, he has granted them the mercy of a trial.
“Now”—the man was striding about as he spoke—“the facts of this case are simple. These boys are all foreigners who have been generously granted sanctuary here. Sons of renegade kings and enemy rulers, they are potential traitors in the heart of our beloved City. Nevertheless, the Immortal, in all his”—the man struggled for another word—“munificence, sheltered them in his palace and gave them the best of educations, both in the arts of war and the pursuits of peace. They were treated as honoured guests. Even when their parent kings betrayed the emperor and took up arms against him, still these boys were granted refuge here.”
The general clutched his chin as if marshalling complex thoughts.
“Now, it is the custom, as you all know, to allow our young trainee soldiers a great deal of freedom. Other lands, other cities, might look at us and wonder why this is. It is because”—he paused and raised one hand theatrically—“our emperor, in all his…wisdom, believes that a life, a heart, given to the City freely, is a life worthy of the name.” He fell silent as if dumbstruck by the grandeur of this thought.
Despite everything, Arish felt a bubble of hilarity rise up through him. The man was clearly a fool, possibly drunk. As an opponent, the boys could ask for no worse.
The prancing idiot told the audience of the day of the wilding as if it was a festival. Arish thought back to the youngsters running through the trees, rolling in the leaves like pups, and thought the man was not entirely wrong.
“Then,” the general went on, “these boys realised they were hungry. They had eaten when they left the palace, but the generous fare they were given was not enough for them. So they conspired to kill some of the imperial hounds which run free in the woods, to kill and to eat them.”
Ranul was growing red in the face, a volcano about to erupt in steam and fire. Arish whispered fiercely, “Shut your mouth, Ranul.” Ranul gave him a venomous glance. Arish added, “This fool can say what he likes. Our advocate will tell the true story. Give her the chance.” Ranul scowled, but said nothing.
The general told the spectators that three dogs had been killed, and he ended his story with the boys returning home, drunk with freedom and replete with dog-meat in their stomachs. He bowed elaborately to the emperor and his fellow judges, then to the lady Archange as she stood and walked out to the sand. There was a sudden cacophony of jeering and catcalls, and Arish wondered whether it was for the prancing general or their woman advocate.
The day was warm and Archange took off her long outer robe and folded it and laid it neatly on the sand beside her. She was now wearing a straight pale blue tunic over a white dress. There were silver chains round her neck and on her breast. She seemed as relaxed as if she were in her own chamber.
The heckling rose to deafening levels. The spectators, all of them men, content for their sisters and daughters to die on the field of combat, resented a woman daring to speak in public. Clay bottles and pebbles were thrown, and once Archange stood back swiftly as a thrown knife pierced the sand near her feet. Arish saw even some of the soldiers were shouting abuse.
The woman stood and waited patiently, hands folded. She looked as though she could stand there for hours. At last the noise began to die down. Archange stirred and looked around.
She raised her chin. “Warriors,” she cried.
This aroused more abuse, but it quickly died down this time.
“Warriors,” she repeated more quietly, and the remaining hecklers were quieted by others wishing to listen.
“Warriors are trained first to defend our City, and to defend themselves, then to attack our enemy. That is why they are given shields and swords. The shield to defend, the sword to attack. They do not lie down and let themselves be killed.
“These young warriors before you have spent years in training to defend the City. Some of them have already fought at the side of seasoned soldiers. Some are still too young.” She gestured to little Evan.
She raised her voice. “And I echo the words of my friend General Galada. The emperor has also done me a great service today. He has permitted me to speak on behalf of his warriors. There can be no greater honour.
“It is true these young men are the sons of foreign leaders, foreign kings. They are the sons of men who were once our allies. They came here in good faith to learn the City’s ways, and to fight for its honour. If their fathers have since turned away and betrayed the City, then they are not to blame.
“General Galada here,” she gestured to the old soldier, “was the son of a Fkeni chieftain killed in the battle of Edyw. Yet he has spent forty years serving the Immortal with honour and integrity. No one would throw back in his face the fact that he is the son of a traitor.”
The old boy flushed and Arish smiled. There were some shouts from the spectators, at the expense of the general.
“Now the dogs,” Archange went on. “I have spoken to the imperial huntsmen, and to the foresters whose job it is to patrol the woodland where these boys were sent on their wilding. They tell me wild dogs in this part of the City are a menace. Hundreds of people, most of them children, are savaged to death each year, and each year the packs g
row larger. None of the foresters will go unhorsed for fear of dog attack. Yet these six young men were sent there, on foot, unwarned, on a training exercise.
“They were attacked by a dozen or more hungry, savage dogs. They did not choose to kill them for meat. As the general himself told us, the boys had recently had food, and even in this City, in the dire straits we now suffer, we are not reduced to feeding our soldiers dog-meat.” There was a ripple of amusement through the arena, and Arish felt his hopes rise. What the woman said was unarguable.
“They defended themselves,” she went on. “They defended themselves against attack, as they were trained to do. As any warrior would.”
She swung round. “What would you have done, general?”
The general shook his head and said something unintelligible. Then he raised his voice to the crowd. “The dogs belong to the emperor,” he cried. “It is against the laws of the City. Even the emperor cannot break the laws of the City.”
Archange spoke towards the imperial balcony. “We are not talking about puppy dogs, general. Nor the faithful hounds which accompany the Immortal on his hunts. These were wild dogs which wandered into the imperial domain. Rabbits which roam the City’s meadows are snared and killed by citizens for food, and the stream and rivers are fished for their bounty. We do not bring to trial the rabbit-hunters and fishermen.”
Some people in the audience shouted agreement.
“Let me remind you, these dogs would have presented such a peril to anyone coming across them—innocent workman, traveller or child. In past years the emperor has organised hunting parties to run down and kill wild dogs in his domain. We of the City should be grateful to these young soldiers for freeing us of them.”
The City Page 31