Adversaries Together

by Daniel Casey

  The alm often appeared distracted, unaware of her surroundings. No, Declan thought, not unaware, just uninterested.

  She had no care for the hawkers or the rover’s trinkets yet had no disdain for them. As Declan got a bit closer to the two, he hoped to get an idea of the pair’s relationship. Kyrio Tobin had only given him the slightest understanding of the depth of his task. Shadow the two, steer them either to the Spires’ agents in Dystos or to the Spires themselves. What they actually meant by ‘steer’ was anyone’s guess, but Declan figured he had more than enough time to figure something out and from Tobin’s tone, he was given leeway to do whatever he saw fit. Nearly seven hundred leagues to Dystos would give him at least a month to get it all sorted assuming that there were minimal complications.

  The Crossing was the last bit of proper civilization before heading south took them through the empty hinterlands on their way to Havan. Hopefully, the two lingered a bit so Declan could refresh his own supplies. Doing so was the perfect cover for monitoring the two. In the press of the marketplace, he could linger near enough to eavesdrop without raising suspicion. Although the alm was detached yet fascinated by every single commoner, the paladin was patient. He stayed close to the alm but he clearly had his guard down banking on his armor and Cathedral insignia to keep others at bay.

  “I don’t see why we don’t just press on.” The paladin was browsing a table of bronze coat clips but was clearly bored. He gently nudged the alm along but she lingered.

  She was smiling amid three vendor women handing out what appeared to be metal scrolls, she turned to the paladin, “Because we need to offer succor to those we meet along the way.”

  “Giving out prayer wheels isn’t quite the same as succor.” He mumbled. “We’re not hawkers.”

  The alm made a gesture brushing him aside, “There are those in your chapel, Goshen, who would contend just the opposite.” She came over and began to pull him along further down the market.

  “You know better, Kira.” Goshen allowed himself to be lead, “Besides, I’m quite certain I was picked for this trip to get me out of the city.”

  “I hardly think so,” Kira reached out to several passersby who bowed to her smiling and made a few hand signs as a passing blessing, “you were chosen because they wanted to send me.”

  “Which still doesn’t quite make sense. Why send an alm on her first mission all the way to The Aral?” Goshen shrugged.

  “Are you doubting my faith, Goshen Staad?” Kira teased.

  “Never would. But I hardly think we need to proselytize here so near The Cathedral. The Lakes aren’t lacking in the Light.”

  “There are those from the city here about to head out into the wilds and strange lands, we owe them some last consolation or assurance. And so many from afar, perhaps they want more knowledge.” Guileless, Kira’s tone was that of a teacher to a small child, and Goshen had to smile at her.

  “I think you’ll find most outside the Lakes have only a fleeting interest in the Light.” Goshen scoffed.

  “That is cynicism.” Kira playfully poked him in the chest.

  “I’m a crusader, girl, attrition is our ministry.” He gave some false bluster.

  Kira slapped him on his shoulder and pretended to admonish him, “That is not what we are up to this time out.”

  “Certainly not,” they stopped at a stall filled with a myriad of different colored incense sticks and cones, “but it won’t be an easy going.” Goshen said.

  Kira closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, “I love it when they all blend together.”

  Goshen winced and blinked, his eyes watering, “I’m not with you on that.”

  “The styrax and…the sandalwood. Two fistful, please.” Kira bowed to the vendor who began to wrap up her request. Goshen was glancing around impatient, seemingly more uncomfortable the longer they lingered in the market.

  “We need to go to the chapel here before we leave.”

  He shook his head not looking at her, “First off, there’s no chapel here and second, we need to be moving along.”

  “Lappala is going nowhere.” Kira rolled her eyes, “For nearly five thousand years it’s been there.”

  “It’s nearly eight hundred leagues, and I don’t want to be on the road for three months.”

  “It won’t be that long,” she grabbed his arm and moved him along, “If there’s no chapel…”

  “There’s a belvedere we can use, it’s open to both the east and west.”

  Kira smiled, glad that the paladin knew what she wanted and how to accommodate her, “Goshen, I’ve never been beyond the Lakes. I want to savor this. I’m traveling the length of the world.”

  Her eagerness made him smile. He winked at her, “It’s because we’re traveling the length of the world and this is your first time out that I’m cautious.”

  At the end of the market, he paused and lead her out in front of him, “Head down the path and then just to the left. Pray and then come back down, I’ll have our mounts and supplies waiting.”

  “You’re not coming?” Kira was surprised.

  “My order only prays at first light.” He said matter-of-factly.

  “Then once on the highroad, that’s what I’ll do as well.” Kira hugged him before she went on, and Goshen watched her go a bit bemused.

  Declan was loitering near the incense stall, the vendor was getting annoyed and started haranguing him. He stepped away holding his hands out to apologize and calm him down. It didn’t help much, the vendor kept shouting after him. Annoyed, Declan tried to blend into the throng of people only to run into Goshen.

  The paladin smirked, “Not one to barter, eh?”

  Declan didn’t hesitate as he continued to walk alongside Goshen and deployed his best Cassubian accent, “My thoughts on the quantity seem to have been misconstrued as thoughts on quality.”

  Goshen laughed, “Be mindful, friend. They’re always looking to separate you from as much of your coin as possible.”

  Declan nodded, “Duly noted.” He paused casually at a stall hawking satchels. Goshen gave a slight nod and melded into the crowd.

  “These are all lambskin.” The vendor spoke to Declan.

  “Damn it.” He muttered as he watched Goshen disappear from his peripheral vision.

  “I have some calfskin…” The vendor added.

  Declan shook his head, “Naw, naw…it’s ’right. I’ll take dis.” He held up a gray bota and handed the vendor a few silvers continuing to curse himself in his head. He’d have to keep a further distance from the two as they left the Crossing, more cautious now that the paladin had seen him. He doubted Goshen would recognize or remember him, but he couldn’t take that chance. Out of sight, out of mind, Declan reasoned.

  A few hours later, the mounted paladin trailed the alm’s horse and pack mule laden with supplies. When the alm emerged from the belvedere, she was somehow more airy and cheerful than she had been in the marketplace. The idea of enduring the alm for the better part of the fall and early winter made Declan feel sorry for the paladin. Even a good few spans away, Declan caught her scent from the incense she had burnt even though he was up wind. He made a note, might be a good way to find them in the future. He kept his back to the two peering over his shoulder indiscriminately waiting for them to get going so he could follow at a safe distance. Goshen handed Kira a simple bow, which she slipped over her chest before she mounted. Declan made a note, he’d have to keep an eye on that; if the woman could shoot it might make his job easier. The two of them left Carlisle’s Crossing at a slow trot as they made their way onto the highroad south.

  Ardavass, The Seven Spires, 11th of Lammas

  “You would have us in open war.” Kyrio Landico’s voice was harsh and piercing. The other lords of the council were unsettled, grumbling and calling out in both dissent and accord.

  “I would have no such thing…” Kyrio Matias tried to dismiss the charge.

  “You would! You would have us march across Novosy—no doubt
bullying them into your manic cause along with the bitter Cassubians—and into Essia. Do you have any idea the trail of blood you would stain the ground with?”

  “Kyrio Landico, I do not want war. I do not want unnecessary bloodshed.”

  “All bloodshed is unnecessary. Don’t hedge your speech with me, boy. You know nothing of war.”

  “I know enough. I know I am not afraid to do what needs be done.”

  “Fear? Fear, you fool, that’s what you throw at me? At me!”

  “I apologize, Kyrio Landico; we all know your history. We have been told of it for ages.” A combination of snickers, scoffs, and snorts of contempt came from the council, “But now we need action, not tales of action, not empty words.”

  “You, boy, are the one whose words ring hollow. You’ve only known luxury, you and your whole cohort. The luxury won by our fathers and at great cost, it makes no sense to put that at risk. To put that at risk for no real gain.”

  “Your scales confuse me Kyrio Landico. You don’t believe we have anything to gain from protecting our nation. You don’t believe we have anything to gain from securing our resources. You don’t believe we have anything to gain from sharing our glory with the oppressed of Essia. I say again, your scales confuse me. Perhaps I and my cohort give greater weight to security and freedom and our future prosperity.”

  “Again with your false rhetoric. I have grown weary of your sophistry and paralogy, you’ve corrupted the word.”

  “And certainly good lord, if you are weary perhaps you should retire.”

  “I will stand against your arrogance, your egotism and greed until all life leaves my bones. You stand here amongst this council as a gift, undeserved and unearned. You are the legacy of your grandfather, a man I, and many of us, knew and respected. His line was granted the seat you hold through accident of birth, boy. Those of us who have earned our seat, those of us who worked to forge this nation and those of us who strove to maintain it are under no delusion of vanity. You and yours want Essia destroyed for your own sport, you want their coin and treasure for your own, you want to prove in some misguided way that you are worthy by striking down that which has never harmed you and which is in no way your equal. You’re merely throwing a tantrum.”

  “It seems that you are the one that is red-faced and wild, Kyr…”

  “I am the man who is telling you ‘Enough!’”

  The council was blanketed in silence. Kyrio Landico‘s eyes beat down upon Kyrio Matias with a hard admonishment, but he met it with his own contempt for punition.

  “We have gotten away from our original point, good lords.” The steady voice of Kyrio Tamas broke the tension as he stepped forward. Nodding slightly and tapping Kyrio Matias’ elbow, “If I may have the floor, Kyrio Matias.”

  Kyrio Tamas’ tone and demeanor was deferential and not looking to keep pressing the argument with Landico, Matias bowed slightly as he receded to his seat.

  “Good lords, the question before us isn’t war. It isn’t whether or not we are strong, it is not whether or not we are free, it is not whether or not we are secure, it is not whether or not we honor our ancestors, and it is not a debate between action or inaction.” The Kyria listened intently, many nodding in agreement although one suspected that they were merely glad that the temperature of the room was now cooling. Landico leaned back slightly to take in what Tamas was saying.

  “The question before us is, should we accept the conclusion of The Cathedral? If we do, what shall we do next? If we don’t, what does that mean? These are questions to be taken up after we have addressed this—do we accept that Essia is in a crisis, near implosion, and that its collapse will send shockwaves throughout our world disrupting not just our lives but the lives of all nations? Do we accept that? And will we take on the mantle The Cathedral has set down before us?”

  “That mantle is of a conqueror.” A voice from the council rang out.

  “Yes, good lords, it most certainly could be…in the wrong hands. Yet The Cathedral didn’t put this charge before Novosy or Adrenia or the Merchant Fleet or the lone cities. The Cathedral knew only we, the Seven Spires of Ardavass and not The Aral, could take this on without giving in to the poison of conquest.”

  There were mumblings and grumbling in the council, but all were well flattered by Tamas’ words, the patriotism of Silvincia and the lords of its capital could always be relied upon to smooth over divisions. Although Tamas knew this, his expression and tone betrayed no affectation. Landico could sense a sea change in the council but it wasn’t clear where it was going, he knew that the lords themselves hardly knew where they were being lead. These leaders of men had more akin to the sheep they presumed to rule than they knew. However, Landico knew that Tamas was no warmonger or glory seeker like the hotheaded young bloods lead by Matias.

  “Ours is a grand moment. One that will define our great nation, not just to ourselves as our ancestors have so successfully done, but to the world. We have the opportunity to be a beacon, the ideal that all others strive for, that all others covet. We merely need to decide.”

  “I am unaware of our kingdom being unknown to the world, Kyrio Tamas.” Snickers went up among not just the youthful lords but also among the mature councilors, smirks and self-satisfied nods. Of course, Matias had to throw in some snide comment, thought Landico.

  Tamas was un-phased, “Certainly so, good friend,” his verecund smile seemed to win over the younger lords, “But I know you get my meaning, we could be not just great but glorious without doubt, without hesitancy, without embellishment.”

  The councilors nodded in agreement as Tamas continued, “We would be divine by right.”

  Assent spread out in varying degrees as the tone of the chamber changed; there was a confident energy to most of the room now. Landico saw the danger here, he rose slowly, “I would wonder what The Cathedral would think of such a claim.”

  The effect was immediate, though not as strong as he had hoped as about a third of the chamber hushed appropriately reprimanded while the rest turned up into an agitated hum.

  “Kyrio Tamas is certainly correct and I do not mean to suggest he is coaxing us to some gasconade, but we have to consider just what The Cathedral wants, what they expect, and what they will do. Even if we grant their claim and take on this mantle.” Landico couldn’t see a way out now, too many were either hotheaded like Matias or had generated some grandiose scheme of their own thanks to Tamas.

  “Perhaps we should adjourn for now. Perhaps we all need to ruminate on what has been said today and perhaps we need to consult with our constituents.” Kyrio Parmentier announced, less a question than a decision made for all. The lords all tacitly agreed. He nodded to the master-at-arms who stepped forward, “Shall the Assemblage adjourn?” he called out in a stern voice. Calls of “yay’ came from all quarters, “The Assemblage is adjourned. It shall reconvene in two weeks.”

  With that, the lords stood up and began to leave the chamber; they clustered in their factions almost immediately, obviously rehashing the day’s debate. Landico stayed seated planning to get up to leave once the others had cleared the aisles and were well on their way back to their individual spires. He stroked his beard with the back of his hand staring down blankly at the council speech floor. His own lieutenants patted him on the shoulder and gave him praise for his speech; he nodded absentmindedly hardly listening to any of them.

  “He’s stronger than you think.” Landico tilted his head up to the side to see Tamas standing beside him.

  “The fool thinks this is a game.”

  “Kyrio Matias does love trophies.”

  “What trophy will come from slaughtering Essians?”

  “It doesn’t need to happen like that, you know that. You’re being purposefully negative.”

  “I’ve come to realize that the worst-case scenario is always the best to imagine.”

  “I disagree, though I respect and understand your caution and reasoning. It’s just pessimistic for me.”


  “A pessimist can never be disappointed, only surprised.”

  Tamas chuckled, “Someday we’ll collect your wisdom into a proper tome.”

  “I’m not that old.” Landico smirked, rose, and laid a hand on Tamas’ shoulder, “Besides I have no disciples to spread the word.”

  “Oh, you know you have adherents. I would say more than you suspect.”

  “But not you.”

  “But not me.”

  “I know you don’t want war…”

  “No, I do not.”

  “…but I don’t know what you do want.”

  The two lords turned to walk up the stairs out of the chamber, Landico kept his hand on Tamas’ shoulder, he pointed with his other hand at the younger man’s chest, “You are no zealot either, no heathener to be sure, but definitely no true believer.”

  Tamas shook his head, “No, I have no love or hate for The Cathedral. But one can hardly forge a path on such a premise.”

  “True. You say what you must, giving the appropriate praise. And I’ve always been amazed by your ability to avoid hypocrisy…though often barely so.”

  “I know you detest false speech, but I was taught well by a master of all tongues and reasoning.” Tamas winked, and Landico smiled despite himself.

  “But how will this angle of serving The Cathedral avoid war? The Cathedral might not want obliteration like Matias’ faction does, but they do want Essia annexed.”

  “Brought into the fold, as it were.”

  “Yes, The Cathedral adores supplicants whether they come willingly or via attrition. But how does this not merely make us their champion—at best—or puppet—more likely?”

  “I am certain we can use this to not merely curry favor with The Cathedral, but check their ambitions. If we take on their charge but make it our own, take it from them, we can neuter their desire for a proxy state in Essia.”

  “I see very little chance of the Essians seeing us as saviors given that we caused their hardship. The Blockade will be our greatest sin, Tamas.”