“I haven’t seen it since the march back from Heneur,” I eventually replied.
Leger had made that march—had been a Hemari captain at the time. He wore the silver star of a man who’d served 30 years. Our time in Heneur, though—we did not talk about that.
“Come,” he said to me. “Let’s get out of these rags and find some sleep. Tomorrow is as important as today.”
“That should be the company motto.”
He chuckled and left me to my camp work. The dry slough became a paddock and tent rows ringed by a fence of pickets. Watch fires were lit and manned by properly uniformed greencoats. Others started to sack in. The master sergeant, meanwhile, got all the heavy satchels of tithe coins moved once again into a large tent for further sorting.
I should have been ready to fall dead away to sleep, but Leger’s fire for the road was contagious. The sergeant and the officers moved with purpose—all of the men did. Even Avin looked like he had fight left in him.
We stowed the last of our gear into the back of our small tent, and for the first time in twenty days, we put on our own clothes. It made me smile. “Let’s go take a look at those coins,” I suggested.
“Can we?” he asked, and we made straight for the large tent. The sergeant and the men inside were sorting and weighing the coins—seemed that they were nearly finished.
The sergeant tapped on his tally and couldn’t help showing it off. “Here’s the count. Half by weight is tin. Can you believe it?”
I’d never seen a seven-digit number before. The mountain of bagged and loose silver coins in the center of the tent drew me in. “Quite a bit of it.”
“Pretty, isn’t it? The rest are already loaded into thousand-weight bags—more or less. Well over a million standards all told. All of it coming home to the Chaukai.”
Barok’s reward of silver had perhaps been too generous. They’d managed to put themselves together properly with just a few thousand standards the previous year. What would they do with a million? It was too much to comprehend.
So much silver. Silver. Silver …
The touch of the Spirit of the Earth went through me like the warmth of a hot meal on a cold night. I nearly got hold of Her voice—Her first gift of a word after a desert of silence—but I languished there, unable to grasp it. The light whisper escaped me. I very nearly screamed. The warmth left me all at once, and the sudden chill was painful.
A harsh whisper reached out from the darkness, promising any verb I wished.
I smiled and imagined the power of verb after verb. Freeze, obey, bend, break, fly. Could a man be made to fly? The desire to learn them all rose.
“You’re shaking,” Avin said. “Are you well?”
I gasped, shook my head, and stumbled out. The cold air washed over me. I searched for Ryat and spotted the tent that held him.
Avin chased after me. “What do you intend?”
“I cannot wait any longer,” I replied.
When I stepped in, Ryat rose uncertainly. The four greencoats guarding him drew their weapons.
“Tell me your nouns.”
He looked nervously at the swords and then shook his head.
“I will not ask you again.”
“We will be heard,” he whispered. The greencoats took fast hold of his arms and collar and put the points of their swords against his ribs and throat.
“Explain. Quickly.”
“The Conservancy—it knows how to listen for singers. It is the skill that I and many others grew up learning. We listen for nouns and can hear the tapping of them at great distances—verbs too but that is harder. Every church upon a tithe road has at least one man who—”
“Does listening help with the hunger?”
“Yes.”
“Teach me how to listen. Now.”
Ryat stammered, and I expected excuses. He let out an exasperated sigh, and pleased me by saying, “Very well. Avin, I will need your assistance. If you could sing the healing song please, as low as you are able.”
“Now?” Avin protested. “How could that be required?”
“It’s a matter of degrees. Now quickly, before your friend loses control and starts singing words that will bring the Conservancy or worse down upon us.”
Avin began to sing, and the slightest blue light warmed the tent. The magic did not have a target so wafted across the space and bathed each man at random.
Ryat said, “Now, sir, if you would please, walk slowly back up the tent row while singing.”
Avin was exasperated. He went, though, and Ryat said to me, “Now don’t let go of the sound.”
I nearly did as Avin stepped out. It became a dreamlike thing after that, almost an imagining of the words—of the thoughts. The farther he went, the harder it became.
“Focus on the nouns,” Ryat coached, and tapped his finger in the air in time to Avin’s fading verse.
heal flesh man
— flesh man
———
- - -
FLESH MAN
The last was Ryat. My head ached, I lost all sense of direction, and very nearly my balance.
He took hold of me. His finger continued to tap the rhythm of Avin’s song. “Find him!”
My skull buzzed. His bobbing finger mesmerized me. I worried that he was tricking us, but ever so slightly I heard the tapping of Avin’s song.
“I can hear him,” I said, and Ryat looked surprised.
“Good. Superb! How about other singers farther away? On the far side of Alsonvale, there is another healer, and a second farther off. Find them!”
He tapped in time separately to these distant songs.
“There!” one of the greencoats said and pointed. A second greencoat was tapping his sword in time, his eyes closed. I found both singers then, too—water drops upon distant pools.
Avin reentered the tent, and his flagging song fell away. The more distant priest stopped as well. A new singer started to the southwest.
“Another one,” and “There!” the two attentive greencoats said in unison.
“The tithe tower we saw on the other side of the city—must be,” a third said.
I became acutely aware that none of us were paying attention to Ryat. I spun back to him, but he stood slack-jawed with surprise—his urgent professional air replaced with alarm.
“Who are you people?” he asked. “Adanas?”
He slowly closed his mouth and visibly shrank. He looked down at the floor and folded his hands. He was terrified.
His discomfort did not concern me. “You will teach this to the rest. And when no one can hear us, you will give me your nouns.”
He nodded, unable to look up at us.
The exhaustion caught up to me then, and I made straight for my bedroll while listening to the occasional tapping of distant songs.
19
General Leger Mertone
The Early Days of Spring, 1196
I had the company moving again before the dawn and marched straight down the tithe road to the heavy gates along Alsonvale’s northeast wall. We looked, at last, as we should: a road-weary alsman arriving from Enhedu with his escort to repay a debt and purchase supplies.
The captain on duty was quite alarmed by the appearance of a provincial force during the sharp cold of dawn, but he proved as professional a solider as you would expect from Alsonvale’s 3rd division. My thirty-star and helmet identified me to him instantly.
“General Mertone, you must get off the road at once. The arilas are moving home today, and the tithe roads are closed for their use. You’ll have the bailiffs after you. Please, there is a plaza just inside the wall with a sally port out to a fenced pasture. It is a perfect camp for a company of horses.”
“For let?”
“Affordable, I assure you—up upon a bit of a hill with a view of both tithe roads and the river. Vacant today because of the arilas moving through—luckily for you. Please, General, hurry.”
It was an easy bet that the captain’s noble fa
mily owned the plaza and the surrounding interests. I accepted his invitation, regardless. The plaza turned out to be the exact opposite of affordable—eighty-five standards for the day—but I paid it without complaint. It was the perfect spot for the business we had with the city.
Word of our arrival traveled fast. We’d only just finished setting up camp when the city’s merchants and moneychangers began to arrive with gifts of cakes and fresh-steeped kettles of mate. They were men I knew from my previous visits to the city on the prince’s business. While they set up carts and stalls along the tithe road, crowds began to form.
“What’s all this for?” Geart asked as he joined me upon the high corner of the plaza. “Never seen anything like it.” He looked as tired as I felt. I would have told him to sack in but suspected sleep was of little use to him.
“The arilas are moving home,” I replied. “The city is gathering to get a look at them. You ever remember seeing the arilas so celebrated?”
“Never. You?”
“No. Barok’s grandfather did not care for the Council. When I was a boy, they had to sneak in and out of the Kaaryon for fear of being murdered.”
“A couple of them were, weren’t they?”
“Quite a few before Lord Vall helped his father into the grave. Havish lost three arilas one year, but that was to infighting, if memory serves.”
“Well, I’d say their popularity is going to grow.”
“How so?”
“Look at how happy the crowd is,” he said through a yawn. “Today’s an extra holiday with the tithe roads closed. That’s two extra holidays a season just to watch the arilas come and go. The people will love them for it.”
“Bit chilly for spring, though,” I said. I was forcing the conversation now. He knew it, too. He sighed happily and patted me on the shoulder—a thank you of sorts.
“Is that them?” he asked, pointing over the crowded city street and down the long straight tithe road at a thick column of Hemari riding toward the gates. “With a bluecoat escort? Things have changed.”
A full brigade of Hemari rode before the first arilas. It was Roma Bellion from Eril, complete with a company of gray-cloaked Erilion lancers. The entire column flew the gray and blue pennant of Eril, and every device from hoof to helmet was polished. They waved, and the crowd cheered.
The next in line was Arilas Harod Serm and the men of Aderan. It did not seem to matter that he was a shriveled husk of a man from a dishonored and greedy province. The power in Zoviya was clearly shifting to the provinces and the Council. Harod rode high in the saddle as though it was his due, though it was clear from the expression of the Hemari that the honor was being paid to the office, not the man. Miserable slaver.
The next in line should have been the Vlek of Heneur. We’d heard that Aderan had Heneur by the throat, but the situation was dire, indeed, if they could be made to miss a meeting of the Council.
I caught myself wishing that Barok would order us to march west to Heneur’s aid. To see the mountains again—what I wouldn’t give. The blazing reds, oranges, and greens upon those leaping mountains at dawn could make poets of men with no imagination.
The appearance of the last arilas in line summoned me back. It was Regent-Arilas of Trace, General Erd Oklas. He rated only a company of Hemari as escort, but the men of Trace rode no less proud beneath their pennants of yellow and brown. Erd was a proper general, and the clear quality of his company cheered me. The army of Trace had been misused by the Hessier who had come to kill Prince Barok, and their defeat in the forests of Enhedu had been a crushing blow. General Oklas had wasted no time putting them back together. I hoped the same was the case for Almidi and the rest of the long river valley they called home. We needed them.
The regent was brother to our mayor, Erom Oklas, and a royal by marriage to the eldest of the Pormes sisters. He was also the only man in the Kaaryon at the moment who I trusted to give me news of the capital.
The northeast gate was the spot we had agreed to meet early that winter, and he did not miss our green and black flying above the plaza. He turned his company up the broad avenue.
The parade had clearly not suited him, so after a quick greeting, I withdrew us toward the privacy of my tall pavilion tent. He handed me a copy of the season’s Council docket while we walked up. It detailed the motions the Council had voted upon. It was thin. I skimmed the sheets but found nothing of note. It was a document that paid homage to Lord Vall and Chairman Bendent. I looked at him questioningly.
“None of them knew I was coming,” he said. “News of Barok’s victory against Trace was only a rumor, and Chancellor Parsatayn spent the first half of the session glaring at me. I am quite certain he would have brought sanction against me or had me arrested if he’d had the votes for it. But with Trace’s vote no longer in his control, no faction had a clear majority. Heneur’s absence made it seven to seven, Parsatayn versus Bendent.”
He looked around to be sure we were not overheard. “You’d have thought they were going to murder each other right there in the chamber. Parsatayn floated a vote to have Aneth disqualified from the proceeding in order to swing majority his way. Bendent countered by floating Enhedu’s vote being returned to its arilas.”
“Enhedu’s vote came up this session? How was that received?”
“Not well. I think Barok has his work cut out for him. Having two Yentif arilas on the Council is two too many in the eyes of most. If it had come to a vote, I don’t think the motion would have gotten any more than Bendent’s vote for Urmand and my vote for Trace.”
He pointed at one item on the docket. “The only thing that got done without a great deal of screaming was the motion to tax barge traffic upon the Bessradi River to pay for the Hemari escort of the membership. That one was unanimous. The rest is meaningless. It was one of the least productive meetings in the history of the Council. Every one of us is going to have a hard time when we get home. There were a number of very meaningful motions that saw no action while they yelled at each other.”
“I don’t know. It is said that politicians do best when then do nothing.”
He shrugged. “It was a cruel thing you and Barok did, sending a general to serve on the Council. The arilas are demons of politics and not fit to breathe the air of men.”
I was not ready for the severity of his mood and could not summon an apology. I did not envy his task. I said, “We have heard some news of fires and theft of the tithe. What did you see?”
I regretted keeping him ignorant of our many plans, but we had little confidence yet in the men of Trace. Its court was filled with those loyal to the Pormes whom we had deposed. Erd knew he was on the outside, and he stayed quiet for a long time after I’d ask him so simple a question.
Geart, very properly, pointed him at the table upon which we had collected the merchants’ gifts from the morning. Erd poured himself a large cup of mate and fit a cake into his mouth in one go. He gulped down the brew. The refreshment did his mood some good. He slapped crumbs from his uniform sleeve and summoned a reply. “Bayen’s fire struck the tithe towers during the first day of meetings, but the flames did not spread—blessed be his mercy. The early talk was of an apostate in Havish being behind the theft and fire, but every chancellery bailiff was out crying about the church’s failure. By the time the second day’s session was over, the mob was out and the Sten and Minister had retreated inside the Tanayon.”
“The Tanayon itself is under siege?”
“I saw it with my own eyes. The mob forced its way into the Priests’ Quarter and chased the capital’s priests inside the iron gates. The Chancellor has gone into hiding, and Lord Vall has locked himself in his throne room. There must have been a half-million people in the streets—all screaming at once. The Bessradi mob is a force of nature. I was never so happy to be on the road.”
He bit another cake in half and scooped a fresh cup of mate straight out of the kettle. “Rotting useless small cups here in the Kaaryon.”
“
It’s not so much for drinking. They make it to mask the smell of the horses,” I said. “Alsonvale brews more mate than the rest of Zoviya.”
“What’s wrong with the smell of horses?” he replied, washed down the second cake with a single gulp, and scooped a third cup out of the kettle. He pointed at the growing crowd of merchants gathering outside the pavilion. “You’re not just here to escort your regent back to Trace, are you?”
I caught again the unhappy note in his voice. Being in the dark chafed him more than I expected. I did not pick the best response. “I’d be happier, too, if we could conduct all our business in Almidi with you, but your city has little of what we need.”
“Yet,” he replied with an angry flick of his index finger at me. Erd was a prideful man. I’d not thought him a loyalist as well.
“Yet,” Geart said happily and drank to it as if it was a toast. The two large men made the cups seem very tiny.
My master sergeant signaled that everything was ready. Avin and my officers filed in and took their seats behind the long table that faced the pavilion’s entrance.
Erd said, “I’d love to stay and watch if you don’t mind. I’ve heard tales of the vigor with which you thrash merchants and moneychangers. It would satisfy me tremendously to witness it firsthand.”
I preferred that he depart, but there is only so much abuse that a man’s pride can take. I asked my sergeant to give him his seat.
I reviewed the long list before me. I meant to spend every gold coin of the tithe on all the many things Enhedu needed. The massive quantities of raw materials I would take back just might be enough for us to sever our dependency upon the capital territory. It was Barok and Selt’s contribution to our plan—a bet upon a bet, but what a hand of cards we held.
“Show the first man in, please,” I said, and my sergeant did the honors.
The first was someone of note, it seemed, judging by the degree to which those gathered outside bowed and scraped as he passed. He was very like Ryat in his dress, grooming, and manners. He gave the general an examining look. No one else in the room seemed to concern him.
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