“Wait to meet her demands until I succeed and it doesn’t matter.”
“There must be guarantees,” the woman said. “From you, Vareno, that if you are let go you will return to the fort and do as you have said; and from the Asano, that he will honor my demands if you succeed.”
“And from you,” the captain said, “that you meant your offer of peace.”
She lifted her chin. “I did not think any further guarantees were required of me, considering that I am presently at your mercy.”
The captain said, “I have sufficient assurance on the Vareno’s part that he will do as he says, or at least he will attempt it as best as he is able.”
“He has given you nothing but words.”
“You gave me his adjutant,” the captain said, “three nights ago on the Road.”
He was in a cell in the infirmary. They had brought him last night, the captain said. They were hired swords with a camel train headed south for Kabira, and they had found him the day after the attack. The train had gone on southward, but they had turned aside on their own to bring him here to the mines, and he had been recognized as Alluin Senna by the garrison commander who was now dead. He was lying on a reed mat on the cell floor. The cell was warm and silent and he was asleep on the mat and Torien, kneeling beside him, did not wake him. There were linen bandages at his wrists and ankles and across his brow. Oil glistened on his sunburned skin. Torien sat watching the rise and fall of his ribs, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. “You knew at the gate, then,” he said.
“I knew you were not bringing prisoners,” the captain said. “I did not know whether you were acting of your own or under coercion. Of that, I admit I am still not certain.”
“A little of both. I meant to come to the mines. I didn’t mean it to be quite like this.”
“You understand it is the same for both of us: the boy in your hands, Lieutenant Senna in mine.”
“Yes.”
“You understand I care for the boy. As if he were my own son, I care for him.”
“I understand.”
“I taught him the use of a bow. I thought I had taught him the use of a sword, but it would seem there is not much distinction in claiming so.” The captain smiled very slightly.
“I suppose I should be thankful for that.”
“I am familiar with Vareno notions of justice,” the captain said. “If his father is found guilty, you will punish the boy alongside him.”
“Only in the case of treason. This isn’t treason. A court martial will take into account his age, his inexperience, the fact that he was under orders. They’ll strip him of rank.”
“It will be necessary to examine him?”
“Not if he speaks of his own.”
“He will think he owes his father his silence. You see already he tried to silence himself.”
“If his father has any thought for him, he’ll tell him to speak freely.”
“If his father had any thought for him, he would not have put this on his shoulders in the first place. The boy saw his duty. His father saw his use.”
“Perhaps if you speak with him.”
“Yes, I will speak with him. Whether he will listen, I do not know. He knows I have given him to you, and I do not think he will forgive such a betrayal—nor am I entirely certain that he should.”
“I’ll do everything I can to keep him from an examination.”
“It will be his choice,” the captain said, “not yours. Anyway, I do not recommend that you leave tonight.”
“No. I’ll stay tonight. Also, I want to leave the signo here in your surgeon’s care when I go. He is to be treated as an Imperial citizen—as I would be treated. I’m giving him my legal protection.”
The captain bowed. “I will see that he is moved here to the infirmary. There is a room prepared for you in the barracks, Commander, if you wish to rest.”
“I’ll stay here a little while,” Torien said.
He sat against the wall by Alluin’s mat when the captain had gone, his helmet off, his head tipped back, eyes closed. It was warm in the cell but not too warm. There was a breeze coming in with the sunlight through the open window. He fell asleep, at length. He woke to soft footsteps. An Asano girl in a white robe and veil was lighting lamps down the corridor outside the cell. Late-afternoon light slanted through the window. The corners of the cell lay in purple shadow. The breeze coming through the window was cool and heavy with the scent of juniper and almond blossom.
The surgeon came in from the corridor. The girl was behind him with a pan of steaming water. “I’ll change the dressings now, Commander,” the surgeon said.
“How is he?”
“The wounds are without complication. The dehydration was more pressing. He’ll have the scar above the eye, but I don’t believe the vision will be permanently impaired. However, I recommend he goes to an oculist when he’s well enough to travel.”
“Have you everything you need? Tell me what you need. I’ll send it from the fort.”
“I’m well-supplied, Commander. Most urgently he needs rest.”
The surgeon’s voice was gentle but pointed. Torien picked up his helmet. “I’ll go,” he said. “If he wakes, Doctor, will you tell him I was here?”
“Tor.”
“Alluin.” He dropped to his knees by the mat. Alluin’s eyes were open under the bandage. The right eye was bloodshot and bleary. Alluin turned his head against the mat and smiled, faintly. “I think you look worse than I do,” he said.
“I haven’t been lying abed three days.”
“One day,” Alluin said. “Two days on horseback with some swords from a camel train. They wouldn’t let me ride a camel. I swear to God I mean to ride a camel before I’ve done with this sandpit, Tor.”
“How do you feel?”
“Head hurts something awful and I can see two of you and right now I could drink the Breche. Do you remember that wine cellar, below the fish market?”
“I remember. I’m surprised you do.”
“Anyway, that’s how I feel.”
“You know they give us helmets for a reason.”
The surgeon said, quietly, “Commander.”
“Don’t talk to me about helmets,” Alluin said. “If you’d listened to me we’d have been shipboard for Modigne and you’d have been using your helmet as a puke-pot, which is not the intended purpose, at least not once you’re past the probation.”
“You said you wanted to ride a camel before you went. I was giving you the chance.”
“Commander,” the surgeon said.
“A moment alone, Doctor, please.”
“He needs to save his strength, Commander.”
“Give me a moment now, and I give you my word I’ll leave him in peace for the rest of it.”
“He’ll swear it to you in blood, if you ask him,” Alluin said.
The surgeon smiled. Alluin said, “You don’t believe me, Doctor?”
“I’ll take him at his word,” the surgeon said. “Very well, Commander. I’ll walk the hall and back.”
“Can you not profess your undying love in front of him?” Alluin said. The surgeon and the girl had gone up the corridor. “An eagle that he already knows.”
“Be serious and listen to me. I’ve got to leave you here, Alluin.”
“As a hostage. I know.”
He let out his breath in a low burst through his teeth. “How do you know?”
“I’ve got ears, if I’ve got one less eye at present. If you didn’t want me to know, then you should have picked someplace other than my bedside to do business.”
“You were awake?”
“They get me, you get Espere’s brat. They’ve the better end of the deal, I’d say. I thought it was a dream. I didn’t think you’d sell me so low in waking life.” Alluin closed his eyes and stiffened a little on the mat. It was the first indication he had given of pain. “It’s ironic,�
� he said, “all things considered.” He opened his eyes again and looked at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Torien said.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“If you were in my place, and I were in yours—”
“Would I have done the same? I’d have held you for ransom on the Road. I said so.”
“That was a joke.”
“That’s what you think.”
The surgeon’s footsteps were coming back down the corridor.
“Better leave you in peace,” Torien said. He got to his feet, tucking his helmet in the crook of his arm.
Alluin said, “It was the right thing to do, Tor.”
He looked down at Alluin on the mat. His throat was tight. “I’ll send word from the fort,” he said.
The signo was lying on his back on the mat below the window in his cell. The surgeon had wrapped his ribs and salved the burns and he was lying quite still in the half-light, but he was not asleep. His hands were folded over his stomach, and he was looking up at the ceiling. When Torien came in through the doorway, he turned his head on the mat and unfolded his arms and started to sit up. Torien said, “Don’t.” The signo lay wordlessly back down. Torien stood at the doorway, looking around the cell. Alluin’s kit was in the corner. The cell was bare but clean, the floor of red tile and the walls of whitewashed adobe. From the window, there was a view of the upper gate and the shoulder of the hill below, lit gold in the darkness.
Torien said, “What did the surgeon tell you?”
“That my lord is to return to the fort tomorrow, that Lieutenant Senna is to remain.” The signo lay tensely, looking at the ceiling.
“I mean what did he say concerning your condition?”
The signo spoke quietly and detachedly as if he were speaking of someone else’s body. “The ribs will heal of their own. The shoulder must first be rested and then it must be strengthened.”
“How long?”
“A month. Sometimes more, he said.”
“Maybe I’ll have some good news to send from Choiro, by then.”
The signo said nothing.
“I told the captain I’ve given you my patronage,” Torien said.
The signo turned his head against the mat and looked at him. Torien slipped his seal ring from his finger. He crossed to the mat and held out the ring on his palm. “Until I can see your case retried,” he said, “in light of your service to me and to the Empire.”
The signo turned his head away. He made no move to take the ring. “You’ll have the privileges of my name,” Torien said. “Alluin and the surgeon can bear witness.”
“No.”
“As long as you’re under my patronage, any hand raised against you is raised against me. It will be of great benefit to you in court.”
The signo was studying the wall. He lay very tensely now. “It doesn’t matter to you, does it—what I did in Puoli? I please you or I displease you, and because you’re someone’s son the court will give you what you want. I’ve had that kind of justice already. If it meant I were set free and restored to citizenship and allowed to go home, I swear to God I wouldn’t take it.”
“I’ve asked you to tell me what happened in Puoli. Until you speak, I’ve no choice but to act as though it doesn’t matter to me.”
“You’ve no way to know that I tell you the truth.”
“Were you innocent?”
“My lord knows every man condemned to the signi will say he is innocent.”
“Were you?”
The signo said nothing.
“Answer me. Or do you not remember?”
The signo said nothing.
“I suppose you don’t remember your lord of Puoli’s name, either.”
The signo swallowed. His hands were clenched to fists at his sides.
Torien put the ring back on his finger. “I’ll find out his name in Choiro. We’ll see if he remembers you.”
The signo said, “Lord Risto.”
“Changed your mind?”
The signo shut his eyes. There was pain in his face. “It is not ingratitude. I do not want my lord to think I am ungrateful. My lord was under no obligation to bring me with him out of the fort, I—I know that. I owe him my life.”
He was irritated, suddenly. “Don’t call me your lord. Maybe Espere enjoys it when you cringe to him.”
The signo turned his head away and said nothing.
Torien said, “It isn’t justice, signo, to let them silence you. It isn’t justice simply to suffer.”
The signo said, “I do not know anymore.” He was looking at the wall.
He had missed the meal in the barracks mess, but one of the kitchen slaves gave him a round of flatbread, a bowl of chickpea paste, and a skin of red wine to carry back to his quarters. It was just now the first watch of the night, but the sky was clouded and dark, and a wind was kicking dust along the barracks row. There was a man leaning against the wall by the doorway of his room, just beyond the cast of light from the brazier at the end of the row. He was in silhouette against the brazier light and Torien could not see his face, but he could see the long hair tied back with a leather strip. “A word, Commander Risto?” said the hired sword. His voice was low and very much of Choiro—the good part of Choiro.
Torien had the flatbread cradled in one hand and the bowl of paste in the other, the wine-skin tucked under his elbow. “Go ahead.”
“A private word, Commander.”
Torien was silent. His sword arm was occupied with the paste and the wine-skin. Beyond the doorway, the room was dark.
The hired sword said, quietly, “I’m unarmed.”
“Go in and light a lamp. I’ll wait.”
The hired sword vanished through the doorway. Presently lamplight flickered over the walls within and out onto the row. Torien went into the room. There was a low cot against the left-hand wall, a desk and stool on the right. The hired sword was leaning against one corner of the desk, arms folded, legs outstretched. “How is the Lieutenant?”
Torien put the bread and paste and wine-skin on the cot, never turning completely away from the desk. “He’ll die of boredom before anything else,” he said. He glanced up at the hired sword’s face. “The Asano told me I’ve you to thank that he’s not dead on the Road.”
“Not really. If we’d gotten to you when we intended, we’d be all of us three days out for Modigne by now.”
Torien was untying the wine-skin. He paused, looking up again.
“My name is Stratto,” the hired sword said. “Commander Briule sent me to meet you on the Road—ten miles out from the fort, we’d planned. The Mayasi must have been trying for Imperial captives. They hit us before they hit you.”
“Commander Briule?”
“Tarrega, as you know him.”
Torien absorbed this. “Guard?”
“We’ve been in Tasso more than a year. Commander Briule—Tarrega—he’s the only one in the fort. The rest of us have the harbor. Only two others of us, now. You saw Valle with me in the hall. I lost two men on the Road.”
“I’m sorry.”
Stratto shrugged. “They fought well, they died cleanly.”
Torien sat down on the cot. “Does Choiro know, then?”
“That the crime lords in Modigne are selling Imperial citizens into the mines while the garrisons turn a blind eye? Certain of the Guard command know. It’s being kept mostly quiet until we can figure out exactly where the money’s going. It doesn’t stop in Modigne.”
“So Espere said.”
“Listen to me, Risto. I let you say your piece in the hall because otherwise they’d have realized their better chance is simply to bleed out of you everything you know of the fort before they join against us in open rebellion. It’s possible they’ll realize it yet. But my orders are to take you to Modigne.”
“No.”
“We’ve worked too long and hard to let this go to Hell now. If it were only e
ver a matter of removing Espere from command, he’d have been hanging from the fort walls a year ago.”
“Maybe if you’d hanged him from the fort walls a year ago, it would not now be a matter of anything more.”
“You think you see it all so clearly. You’ve only been looking at it a fortnight.”
“I should sit on my hands and look at it for a year?”
Stratto’s face was blank. “Lieutenant Espere will be examined in Modigne, on your testimony. The Commander goes untouched.”
“You forget I’m leaving a hostage here with the promise that I’ll see Espere before a court martial in Choiro.”
“I haven’t forgotten. We make sacrifices in war. For your sake, I made two sacrifices on the Road just now.”
“It was your decision. Or it was Tarrega’s—Briule’s. This is mine. And Lieutenant Senna’s life is worth more to me than the opportunity to run away to Modigne.”
“You can go under compulsion,” Stratto said, “if you’d rather not have the onus of the decision. But you’ll go, one way or another.”
Torien flung the wine-skin and stood, dropping his hands to his sword hilt. Stratto had closed the distance between them by the time he got his fingers around the grip. Stratto clamped a hand on the pommel of the sword. He pressed a knife against Torien’s throat, bracing the blade with his thumb. His hand was remarkably steady. The edge of the blade was thin and cool on Torien’s skin. “Don’t be a fool, Risto,” Stratto said.
Torien let go his sword. Stratto took the knife from Torien’s throat and put it away somewhere in his tunic. “We’ll leave at the fourth watch,” he said. “We can be across the plain before the heat of the day.”
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