The Fist’s eyes darkened. “I have never been better. What makes you say that?”
“Nothing. Only…you do not seem yourself.”
The Fist came and sat down at the table, fixing Fen with his intense stare. “I am changing, it is true. There are…costs to what I am undergoing, certain prices to be paid. But it is nothing and Maphothet promises me they will pass.”
“So you trust him?”
“As much as it is possible to trust a foreigner.” He leaned forward. This close, Fen could see a single vein standing out on his forehead. He wondered if it had always been there and he was only now noticing it. “But there are none I trust as much as you, Fen. You know that, don’t you?”
Startled, Fen said, “I’m honored, Fist.”
“Please, call me Barik when we are alone. I don’t know if I told you before, but you are like a son to me, Fen. You are the man I hoped my son would grow up to be.”
Fen felt confused. Such openness was not normal for the Fist. “Thank you…Barik.”
“It is difficult when you get into my position,” Barik said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. He sounded utterly tired and there was a vulnerability about him that Fen had never seen. “I don’t know who to trust. There are enemies all around. Some merely want power or influence for themselves, but others are spies, sent here by our enemies to undermine us because they fear us. It makes things easier, knowing there is at least one person I can trust.” He took a drink from the glass of water standing beside his plate and when he set the glass down his manner was different. The vulnerability was gone, replaced by a sharpness, a level of suspicion. “I can trust you, can’t I, Fen?”
“Of course,” Fen replied quickly.
“I hope so,” Barik said, “because if I found out I couldn’t, well, it would go very badly for you.”
Fen felt a chill run down his spine when he heard the words. The Fist’s tone was cold.
The next moment the coldness passed and the Fist smiled and stood up. “Of course that would never happen. I know that. You’ve always been completely loyal. That’s why when we march against Marad you’ll be part of my personal retinue.”
“As you wish,” Fen replied, off balance by how quickly the Fist’s moods were changing. “I will do my best to carry out any task you give me. Only…” He hesitated.
“What is it? Speak freely.”
“I hope this doesn’t mean that I won’t be fighting with my squad. We’ve been through so much together.”
“I would never do that,” the Fist assured him. “I have tracked your progress very closely and I know of your abilities. You and Wolfpack squad are one of my elite units. Your squad will be attached to me, but it does not mean you will be in the rear, away from the fighting. You should know that I mean to lead the charge when the time comes. My men will know that their Fist fights as they do. He does not huddle in the rear like a frightened child.”
He resumed pacing then and for the next few minutes he said nothing. As he paced he muttered to himself now and then. He seemed to have forgotten Fen was there. Finally he turned on Fen, a curious expression on his face.
“I admit there are times when I wonder if I go too far,” he said. He was staring straight at Fen, but Fen had the feeling the Fist wasn’t seeing him, but was looking at something in his imagination. “There are barriers, perhaps, that man was not meant to cross. Sometimes I doubt.”
“What sort of barriers?” Fen asked, thinking of the strange cavern beneath the tower.
“What?” The Fist blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “Oh, Fen. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You said something about barriers that shouldn’t be crossed?”
“Yes. I suppose I did. They have to be crossed, though. Only by risking everything can a man take the destiny that is his by right, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” Fen said uneasily. Hesitantly, knowing he was taking a risk, he asked, “Was there something going on in the tower? Is that one of the barriers you speak of?”
“Is seeking power to be feared?” the Fist asked, his voice rising a little. “Am I to be judged because I want my people safe from their enemies?”
“No. Never.”
“I want nothing for myself, Fen. You must see that surely. I have never wanted anything for myself. It is all for my people, everything I do.” He stared at Fen, almost challenging him. “I would never do anything to harm those who follow me. That will never change.”
Fen relaxed somewhat. The Fist must not have known what the Ankharans were doing then. There was still hope.
“Why do you ask?” the Fist asked.
“Some have wondered what the Ankharans were doing in there is all,” Fen said cautiously.
The Fist waved it away like it was an insect. “There are always those who will talk. The Ankharans are foreigners and so it is hard to trust them. But while their ways are strange, the ends they lead to are only for the best. A certain amount of faith is required.”
╬ ╬ ╬
Fen left the palace a few minutes later, more confused than ever. What was happening to the Fist? What were the Ankharans doing to him? They had some kind of hold over him, but what and how?
For the first time Fen began to seriously consider the idea that he needed to learn to understand and control his power. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he would do. Always before it was something to be suppressed. But now he saw the possibility that the only way to combat the Ankharans was with his power. Clearly they were capable of feats beyond the realm of steel and muscle.
Was this why he was given this power? Did the gods do this? Or was it something else?
The problem was that he had no idea how to go about learning how to control his power. He needed a teacher, someone to at least point him in the right direction, but he didn’t know anyone who could help. He thought of the old healer and what he said about the Shapers. Maybe he could learn more there. He could go by and see him at the end of the day, after he was done with his duties.
First, though, today he was to report to Captain Rouk. He glanced at the sun and saw that he was late so he started running. Rouk was a hard man who didn’t tolerate excuses of any sort. He would already be angry at Fen for being late and every minute that passed would only make him angrier.
Fen grabbed his sword belt from the barracks, pulled on his mail and his surcoat and ran to where Rouk was mustering a squad of soldiers. The soldiers were all wearing helmets and leather armor with chain mail over it. Each carried a short sword.
“You’re late, lieutenant!” Rouk yelled. He was a wiry man with short-cropped, gray hair and a scar on his chin. He had a way of sticking his chin out when he talked as if he was daring someone to hit him. The look he gave Fen was dark.
“Sorry, captain. I was meeting with the Fist.”
Rouk looked like he was going to challenge Fen, but then he settled for saying, “Don’t let it happen again.” To the squad he yelled, “Move out!”
They marched down into the merchant district. As part of the preparations for war every merchant was required to provide certain goods. These materials were essentially a special tax. The merchants weren’t paid for the materials they were required to provide. It was considered their contribution to the war effort. Rouk was one of the captains in charge of enforcing the order. Fen had gone along on these collections before. Merchants who had been dragging their feet fulfilling their requirements had a tendency to quickly become very compliant when a dozen soldiers, armed and armored, showed up at their door.
This was the first time Fen had been assigned to assist Rouk, but he knew from talking to other soldiers that he was more ruthless about enforcing the collections than any of the other captains. Still, Fen expected it to be a fairly easy day, which he was glad for since the effects of his battle in the cavern combined with not getting any sleep were catching up to him. As the squad took up its position outside a home he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Unfortunately, Rou
k saw him.
“We’re not interfering with your sleep time, are we, lieutenant?” he barked.
Fen snapped to attention. “No, sir!”
“You’re an officer now,” Rouk said. “Try to act like one. You’re expected to show up ready for duty. If you want to stay up all night with some whore that’s your business, but when the morning comes you need to be sharp. Is that understood?”
Fen bristled at the implication that Ravin was a whore, but he knew better than to argue. “Yes, sir!” he said.
The house was two-story, built of stone with a tile roof. It was a nice house, but not fancy. The paint was peeling and a couple of the roof tiles had come loose. Rouk strode up to the front door and banged hard on it with the hilt of his dagger. Then he stepped back, put his hands on his hips and waited.
A maid opened the door and looked out timidly. She took in the squad of soldiers and her eyes widened.
“Bring your master out at once,” Rouk snapped.
The maid—she was little more than a girl, thin and wearing a black dress that was too big for her—swallowed visibly. “He’s still getting dressed.”
“I don’t care. Bring him out here at once or we will come in and get him.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, her head bobbing. She backed up and started to close the door, but Rouk put his foot in it and stopped her. She looked down at his foot, then ran back into the recesses of the house.
A couple of minutes later a short man appeared at the door. His hair was messy and he was still wearing his sleeping gown, though he had pulled on a pair of trousers and shoes. He was a soft-looking man with a round face and the merest wisp of a beard.
“Captain, I can explain,” he said.
“I’m not interested in explanations,” the captain growled. “I’m only interested in the…” He pulled a parchment out of an inside pocket in his coat and consulted it. “The fourteen barrels of olive oil that you owe the crown.”
The merchant tried a placating smile, took a closer look at Rouk’s scowl, and gave it up. “It’s coming. I only need two more days.” He nodded as if to encourage Rouk to believe him.
“It was due yesterday. I’m here to collect.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t have it yet. It’s on the road from Narom as we speak, I swear. The axle on the wagon broke and they’re having it repaired. I’ll have it for you as soon as I can.”
“Withholding necessary war materials is a serious crime,” Rouk warned him. “I am authorized to take any measures necessary to collect said materials.”
The merchant blanched. He looked to Fen for help, saw nothing there, and looked back at Rouk. “It’s out of my control. I’ll have it in two days. Only give me a little more time.”
“Any measures necessary,” Rouk repeated.
The merchant licked his lips. He splayed his hands helplessly in front of him. “My hands are tied. I do not have it.”
Rouk spun on his heel and looked at Fen. “Lieutenant, take the men and enter the house. Bind his family and bring them out here. Use force if necessary.”
The merchant started spluttering. Fen hesitated, not sure if he’d heard correctly. On other collections he’d assisted with the captain in charge had come to some sort of agreement with the tardy merchant, usually involving the merchant agreeing to a certain surcharge for being late. One who had already twice been late was quietly arrested, but that was as far as it had ever gone. “You want us to tie up his family and drag them out here?”
“You have your orders, lieutenant!” Rouk yelled. “Carry them out!” The merchant had gone pale. He was grabbing at Rouk’s arm, trying to get his attention. Casually, Rouk elbowed him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. The merchant fell to his knees.
“Lieutenant!” Rouk snapped.
Fen saluted and motioned to the squad to follow him. He didn’t feel good about this at all, but what else could he do? Orders were orders.
Beyond the door was a short hallway. Stairs on the right led up to the second floor. “Half of you search this floor,” he ordered. “The rest of you come upstairs with me.” He paused, then added, “Don’t bind anyone if you don’t have to.”
“But, sir,” one of the soldiers said. “Our orders—”
“These are the orders I’m giving you,” Fen said firmly and the man nodded. He trotted off down the hallway with half the soldiers following. Fen started up the stairs. The bedrooms would be on the second floor. This early in the day the man’s family should be still in bed or at least in their rooms, which was why he’d chosen the upper floor for himself. He wanted to make sure the merchant’s family wasn’t roughly treated.
On the top floor there were four doors, one of which—presumably the merchant’s bedroom from the look of it—was open. A woman was standing in the open door, staring at them. She had graying hair and was wearing her nightgown, a sleeping cap still on her head.
“What are you doing here?” she quavered. “What’s going on?”
“There’s no need to be alarmed,” Fen told her. “I just need you and your children to step outside for a minute.”
“Are we in trouble? Are we being arrested?”
“You’re not being arrested.” Fen desperately hoped that was true, though he couldn’t be sure how far Rouk would go. He motioned for the soldiers accompanying him to check the other rooms.
“The children too?” the woman cried. “But they’ve…we’ve done nothing wrong. We are law-abiding citizens, I assure you!”
“I have no doubt of that,” Fen said, hating that he had to do this. He was supposed to protect the citizens of Samkara, not drag them out into the street like criminals.
The woman suddenly screeched and ran toward one of the doors as a soldier opened it. “You can’t go in there!” she yelled. “My baby girl is in there and she’s very sick! She can’t be moved!”
The soldier looked to Fen for directions and Fen said, “Leave it be.” He walked over to the door. The woman was standing in front of it, her hands out to the sides, blocking the entrance. Tears were starting in her eyes.
“Please leave her alone,” she pleaded. “She’s only a baby. She’s very sick. The healer said she isn’t to be disturbed. She’s been awake most of the night and only got to sleep a few minutes ago.”
Fen made a decision. “Okay. We’ll leave her be. Will you come along quietly?”
“We’re not being arrested?” the woman asked.
“No, ma’am,” Fen said, hoping it was true.
From one of the other rooms the soldiers brought out two daughters in their early teens. They were holding hands and looking around fearfully. From the other room came a wail. Fen and the woman both hurried over there.
Inside the room was a boy around six. He had his arms and legs locked around one of his bedposts, howling as a soldier was pulling on him, trying to dislodge him. “He won’t let go, sir,” the soldier said to Fen.
“Let me handle it,” Fen said. The soldier let the boy go and stepped back. Fen crouched down beside the bed. The boy stared at him fearfully with big, dark eyes.
“It’s okay,” Fen told him. “No one is going to hurt you. We just need you to come outside.”
“I was asleep,” the boy said. “He scared me.”
“I’m sure he did. I’d be scared too if someone came into my bedroom that I didn’t know,” Fen told him calmly.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” the little boy asked.
“We’re soldiers. We’re here to talk to your daddy.”
“I don’t know where Daddy is.”
“He’s outside. That’s where we want to take you.” Fen held out his hand. “Will you come?”
The little boy hesitated. He looked to his mother, who nodded. “Okay,” he said. He put out his small hand and Fen took it.
He held onto Fen’s hand the whole way downstairs and out the front door. The rest of the squad was already out there, having found no family members on the ground floor.
“That took you long enough,” Rouk growled when Fen appeared. Then his face darkened. “I said they were to be bound. Why aren’t they bound?”
“There was no need. They came peacefully.”
“I gave you an order!” Rouk snapped. “I expect my orders to be followed. People like this man are endangering our nation through their greed and their obstinance. They need to be made an example of. We have to get through to them. Fear is a great motivator.”
In a low voice, Fen said, “Look at them. Don’t they look frightened enough already?”
Rouk stuck his finger in Fen’s face. “Don’t argue with my orders, lieutenant. I have the full backing of the Fist on this. I’ll have you busted down.”
“Yes, sir,” Fen said, knowing there was no way he could reason with this man. “I understand, sir.”
The captain turned and surveyed the family. The mother was clinging to her husband and the children were crowded around their legs, pressed up close to them. “Is this all of them?” he asked.
“All except the baby, sir,” Fen said, wincing as he did so, knowing he was going to hear another outburst. The captain didn’t disappoint him.
“I told you to bring the whole family!” Spittle appeared at the corners of his mouth and his face turned red.
Fen stood rigidly at attention as he was being yelled at. “The baby is sick, sir. Moving her could make her worse. In my judgment—”
“I don’t give a donkey’s ass for your judgment,” Rouk shouted. “All I want you to do is follow orders. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Fen repeated. “If I could finish, sir, when I heard that the child had red fever I chose not to bring her. I was concerned about spreading illness, sir.” The words surprised him. He’d always tried hard to only tell the truth, yet already this morning he had lied to his superiors twice.
“Red fever, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rouk considered this for a moment, then turned back to the merchant. “Now you see that I am serious in my demands,” he told the man, whose head bobbed nervously in agreement. “I will give you one more opportunity to produce the required materials. Otherwise I will arrest your family and hold them until the goods appear.”
Sea Born (Chaos and Retribution Book 3) Page 28