The Legend of Broken

by Caleb Carr

  Veloc made the perfunctory introductions, and the Groba Fathers all bowed their heads in great respect to Caliphestros, while the Priestess of the Moon, her Lunar Sisters, and the two Outragers standing in the shadows beside them were far less deferential in their silent greetings. Seeing this, Heldo-Bah began glancing about the Den with a look of dissatisfaction that seemed directly aimed at the Priestess, although his words addressed the head of the Groba:

  “Must it always be so dark in here, Father?” the sharp-toothed forager asked with no little impertinence. “You see, it makes Stasi—our friend, the panther, here—a little nervous. Am I not right, Lord Caliphestros?”

  Caliphestros recognized what the gap-toothed Bane was attempting to ensure: that a correct order of relationships be established, from the start.

  “Indeed, Heldo-Bah,” the famed scholar lied (for in truth, Stasi was a creature of the darkness); and then, to the man in the tall chair at the center of the Elders’ table, he continued, “Perhaps, Esteemed Father, one or two of these gentlemen”—and without looking at them, he indicated the Outragers—“might be persuaded to fetch another torch or two. Their presence is not required for our conference, and so they will not be missed.”

  “I beg your pardon?” the Priestess of the Moon said incredulously. “Those men happen to be my personal servants, members of the Order of the Woodland—”

  “Of the Woodland Knights, Eminence, yes,” Caliphestros interrupted, pleasantly enough. “Although they have other names, in other places—names perhaps more befitting their activities. Then, too, I have never actually seen one of them in the ‘Woodland.’ ”

  The Priestess eyed Caliphestros with a resentful stare. “The correct terms to use when addressing me, sorcerer, are either ‘Divine One’ or ‘Divinity.’ Please note it.”

  “Perhaps if one is of your faith,” Caliphestros replied evenly, “such are the correct terms. I, as it happens, am not.”

  The Priestess looked more shocked than ever. “We have allowed a Kafran into the Den of Stone?”

  But the old man held up a hand. “Nay, Eminence. I assure you, my hatred for the Kafran faith could not be more obvious.” He indicated his legs. “But my own faith is, I suspect, not one which I could explain to you quickly. Suffice to say that my own correct title, whatever your faith, is scholar.”

  The Groba Father weighed the matter for a moment. “My lord Caliphestros speaks truly, Divinity. His actions have proved the faith he keeps with our people, and take precedence over titles and words, as well. Thus, he may call you ‘Eminence,’ and to you he will be ‘scholar.’ ”

  “But, Father—!” the Priestess objected.

  “That is my decision, Priestess!” the Father declared.

  “A wise decision, too,” Heldo-Bah said.

  “Do not make me regret it, Heldo-Bah,” the Father declared. “Now—” The Father deliberately looked past the Priestess, and gave a sharp order to the Outragers: “One or two more torches, and get them in haste.” He pulled a collection of parchment maps close and, beginning to study them, said, “We have much to do, and with so many more participants, we can well use the additional light …”

  Knowing that he was risking serious conflict, Heldo-Bah added quietly to the Outragers as they passed, “And perhaps a few more sticks of firewood, as long as you’re going. She does like to bask in the warmth of a good fire, does this panther …”

  The Father nodded at the departing Outragers impatiently, and they, looking furious, proceeded upon their servants’ errands.

  “Now, then, my lord,” the Father announced, indicating that Caliphestros should draw nearer, which the old man did, sliding from Stasi’s shoulders with the foragers’ help, and then into his harness and crutches. “I do not know just how much Yantek Ashkatar has told you of our intelligence concerning the Tall’s planned attack into the Wood, but—”

  “He has told me much,” Caliphestros said, studying the rough but accurate Bane maps. “And almost all of it, I think the noble Yantek will concede when he hears what I have to say, is inaccurate. Although understandably so. My own and Keera’s investigations, together with communications I have exchanged with several … associates of mine, indicate that the Talons are embroiled in terrible matters between Broken and Daurawah, matters concerning their kingdom’s internal integrity—to say nothing of their own lives. They are only now turning toward the valley of the Cat’s Paw, whereas the troops that are presently bearing down upon you are, in fact, a khotor of Lord Baster-kin’s Guard.”

  To a tableful of blank faces, Caliphestros reached over to pull a crude tracing of the course of the Cat’s Paw from the pile of parchment, then turned when the Outragers reentered the Den. “Ah, good. We need the light. Place the torches here, by the maps, Outrager—”

  “He is not your servant, to be ordered to perform such menial tasks,” the Priestess of the Moon almost shouted. “Nor is the term ‘Outrager’ a recognized form of address!”

  “Well, Eminence,” Caliphestros replied coolly. “Perhaps if they spent less time butchering Broken farming families, it would not be, but I can assure you that outside this chamber, it is only too common—”

  It was for the Groba Father to step in again: “With all respect, my lord, further bickering will gain us nothing.” And then, to the Outragers: “Set the torches near the table, one of you, while the other feeds and stokes the fire. Then return to your mistress, that we may continue learning what is happening near the Cat’s Paw.”

  “You need only look at what is happening in it, Learnèd Father,” Caliphestros replied. “Members of your own tribe choosing to end their lives, terribly, in the very waters that made them ill to begin with—yet more, besides. Surely your own foragers have reported large numbers of dead and dying animals, especially upstream—for Keera and I saw as much, ourselves.”

  “Yes, our people have seen these things,” the Father replied, watching in wonder as Heldo-Bah led the great white panther to the hearth before the great fire, stroked her neck and whispered in her ear, and at last urged her to lie down on the warm stones. Then, with no trace of fear, he himself lay beside her, his head upon her ribs. “But,” the Father continued, astounded and only half-aware of what he was saying, “we thought it simply part of the same plague that the Tall had loosed upon us …” Regaining his dignity and composure, he turned back to Caliphestros, “We shall all do our best to cooperate in whatever endeavor I sense you are about to propose to us.”

  “Your reputation for wisdom is deserved, indeed, Father,” Caliphestros said with a nod. “I do wish to propose a plan, to yourselves and to Yantek Ashkatar; a plan that may allow us, not only to turn the disease in the Cat’s Paw to our advantage, but to entrap those men of the Merchant Lord’s Guard who, I believe, will shortly cross into Davon Wood. And, by so doing, we will forestall any need to engage the Talons in combat, once they arrive, and can invite them to parley under a flag of truce, instead.”

  The Groba Father was momentarily at a loss for words; and it was for another Elder to speak further: “Your—goals are without question desirable, Lord Caliphestros,” the Elder commented. “Yet they seem, at the same time, extreme, and to contradict themselves. If the rose fever has indeed struck across a broad region of Broken, for example, why should we think that they do not know its source, when we now know it, ourselves?”

  “It was my understanding that age brought wisdom, in this chamber,” Heldo-Bah called out. “Use your eyes, Elder, if your mind is of no help—you’re looking at the reason the Tall do not know the source of the disease, and why our own healers do. Lord Caliphestros is a master of the sciences that have given our own healers the advantage—the same sciences that bred such great distrust of him among the Tall that they took his legs.”

  “Science?” said the Priestess disdainfully. “If we are to be delivered from this crisis, it will be faith, and not science, that will be our salvation. Science is no more than the blasphemer’s term for sorcery.”
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br />   Yantek Ashkatar looked first to Keera and then to Caliphestros in some embarrassment “With all respect, Divinity,” the gruff, bearded soldier said, never daring to engage the Priestess’s gaze. “I fear that your statement may be … incomplete—”

  “May be idiotic,” Heldo-Bah murmured quietly, causing the Priestess to slam her young fists down upon the Groba’s table and cry:

  “That is more than I can tolerate—!” But another low growl from Stasi, who this time lifted up onto her forelegs, as well, was all that was needed to quiet the sacred maiden; and, while this silence was of a sullen variety, it was also continued. Heldo-Bah, in the meantime, coaxed Stasi back to the stones of the hearth by stroking the rich fur of her neck and whispering into the enormous, pointed ear that faced him:

  “Save your anger, Great Cat—she is not worth the effort. The time for killing will be upon us soon enough. And so—save your anger …”

  And again Keera was amazed that Stasi complied with Heldo-Bah’s suggestions, the two seeming to have, against all probability, developed not only some newfound affection, but a means of communication.

  “Let us hear Lord Caliphestros out,” the Groba Father announced at length. “We owe him at least that much, and no one in this tribe, however high or low, can say they are exempt from that debt.” General agreement to this appraisal having been reached once more, Caliphestros pressed forward:

  “I do not wish to discount the role that faith will play, in the coming days,” the old man conceded graciously, although his words did not mollify the High Priestess as greatly as they should have. “For in times of war, such faith is a great comfort to those soldiers and common folk who are made to suffer most. In our own case, Yantek Ashkatar has told me that, whichever forces of Broken arrive on Lord Baster-kin’s Plain in the hours to come, it is his desire to draw them into the Wood, where they will be unable to execute their maneuvers, and will instead become confused and terrified, and therefore may be defeated piecemeal—perhaps even annihilated. An admirable opening move.” The old scholar studied the Groba Fathers in turn once again. “But there are ways in which the fight can be further weighted in the Bane’s favor—if you will but avail yourselves of methods I have developed.”

  “Methods of science,” the Priestess declared distastefully.

  “That’s the limit,” Heldo-Bah suddenly pronounced, rising from his place at the fire. “Don’t even try to explain, Lord Caliphestros—one demonstration will do the work of hours of argument.”

  As he crossed toward the Priestess and the Outragers who stood behind her, Heldo-Bah drew the blade that he had been given by Caliphestros in Stasi’s den, causing the two Woodland Knights to suddenly move in front of the young woman. At this, the panther got to her feet, growling deep within her throat again, and letting her teeth show for a moment in a quick snarl.

  “Heldo-Bah!” Keera said as he passed her by. “Be careful what you begin!”

  “I begin nothing,” answered the angry forager. “Instead, I will finish all this useless talk.” Then, to the Outragers, he challenged, “Go ahead, either of you—or both. Hold your blades forth, try to thwart me.”

  The Outragers moved farther in front of the woman whose life they were sworn to protect, their blades yet before them, as Caliphestros and Keera moved to restrain and calm the panther. The Priestess looked supremely confident, seeming to believe that she was at last on the verge of witnessing the impertinent Heldo-Bah’s death, when suddenly:

  With two resounding clashes of metal upon metal, Heldo-Bah left the Outragers holding mere pieces of their blades; and the expressions on their faces were even more awed than Heldo-Bah’s had been in Stasi’s cave.

  “There,” said Heldo-Bah, sheathing his blade, wiping at his forehead, and returning to Stasi. “I don’t know what you’d like to call that, Priestess, but your ‘knights’ carry blades taken from Broken soldiers—this much is known. So you go on explaining how we can ignore such advantages, if you must—or let us proceed, in the name of your precious Moon, to go about the business of exploiting them …”

  Hobbling back to his place before the Groba, Caliphestros pronounced, “Heldo-Bah’s methods are perhaps crass, but his conclusion is wise. This is the sort of result that my scientific arts can offer you—this and more, if you will only allow me to assist you.”

  “But—” The Groba Father was still staring at the Outragers, who were in turn staring at the pieces of blades in their hands. “But how?” the Father asked at length.

  “I can explain it,” Caliphestros replied, “although I would recommend that we do so as we undertake the work of preparation.” Glancing at the cave walls about him, which were so much like those in his own longtime home, Caliphestros continued, “These chambers of yours contain internal passageways that will be ideal for the work that we must do—and, if my experience is any guide, the chambers atop the mountains higher above us will suit our purposes even better.”

  “You believe you truly can produce this superior steel in our mountains?” the Father asked, with an urgency none of the foragers had ever heard him employ.

  “Within their highest caves,” Caliphestros replied, “as I learned to do during my years of exile far to the west. For we will be harnessing the winds that blow and are channeled through the passages in these stone walls, just as they draw the smoke of your fire instantly from this chamber. Not even the great bellows that power your Voice of the Moon can direct such prodigious winds onto any one specific point.”

  The Groba Father shook his head. “These matters are quite beyond me, as I daresay they are beyond all of us—though perhaps you will tell the tale of their discovery as we begin our work.”

  Caliphestros nodded in grateful relief. “I shall be pleased to—as we work. But work we must, and quickly. As it is, we shall not have time to so arm all of your warriors—Yantek Ashkatar must choose his very best troops, and even at that, it will be a close-run affair.”

  The foragers and Caliphestros began to rise, Keera helping the old man to remove his walking equipment, so that he was able to pull himself onto the white panther’s powerful shoulders as she dipped her neck to receive him.

  “It seems to me,” the Priestess of the Moon declared, “that we are being asked to put faith that would better suit a god than a man in ‘Lord’ Caliphestros.”

  Veloc bravely stepped forward, a trace of uncertainty nonetheless present in his words. “We ask you only to believe the words of a man who has made as much of a study of these matters as you have all made of the power and workings of the Moon.” There was no member of the Groba who was able to protest to this, and Veloc was encouraged to press on: “And now, I would ask your most honored and revered persons to allow us to withdraw and to host Lord Caliphestros at our family’s home. Keera has had but a few minutes’ reunion with her children, and my lord Caliphestros has had a most arduous journey to Okot—”

  “A fact to which I can attest,” Yantek Ashkatar said, nodding certainly. “The journey of Keera’s party has been an arduous one, indeed—why, even Heldo-Bah—”

  But Ashkatar was interrupted, and further explanation was made unnecessary, when the loud sound of Heldo-Bah’s snoring came from the direction of the hearth of the enormous cavity that was the Den of Stone’s fireplace. The moment might have been cause for still more argument and insult, and the Priestess of the Moon looked ready for both; but the Groba Father quickly stepped in to offer Veloc a moment to go and kick his friend awake, and to let the troublesome forager gather himself for departure, as the man who occupied the chair surmounted by Moon horns inquired:

  “Are you certain there are no more splendid quarters we can offer you, Lord Caliphestros? Keera and Veloc come from good, honest stock, who were generous enough even to have taken so troubling a boy as Heldo-Bah into their home, for many years; yet they are humble people, as is their home, and we can certainly arrange—”

  “It shall not seem humble, to me, Father,” Caliphestros replied. “
For it has been ten years since I knew such surroundings, and longer still since I knew such company. Besides, Stasi and I will sleep out of doors, as is our custom during these months, and therefore we shall not frighten the children too much, nor keep the others awake with the strange hours we keep.” He glanced at Keera quickly. “Better Stasi feel safe among such a family than that she feel excessively honored. And I might say the same for myself—”

  At which Heldo-Bah’s tired voice growled, “I am awake, damn you, Veloc, and ready to leave this place, I assure you—so stop kicking me!”

  “Perhaps a quick departure for a night’s rest, Father,” Keera suggested, “would be best after all.”

  “As you say, as you say,” the Father replied, with a wave of his hand.

  As the party turned to go, Caliphestros paused to mention only one thing more to the Priestess of the Moon: “And, Priestess, such remove from the great activity of the center of Okot will give me further chance to consider a problem with which, I believe, yourself, the Fathers, and all of the Lunar Sisterhood have been struggling.”

  “Oh?” the Priestess said doubtfully. “And what might that be?”

  Caliphestros paused, studying this remarkably prideful young woman, and determining that had he, like Veloc, been summoned to her bed, he, too, would certainly have refused. “You have, unless I am mistaken, been casting the runes in connection with this crisis.”

  The Priestess scoffed. “There is no great revelation in that—it is our way to cast the runes, to assist in any troubles that face our people.”

  “Indeed,” Caliphestros replied carelessly, turning Stasi toward the exit to the Den. “Then perhaps I am wrong—perhaps you have determined just what ‘the Riddle of Water, Fire, and Stone’ is, and are aware of how its solution may very soon aid in the struggle against Broken.”