“Listen to me, old man,” Heldo-Bah says, holding a long, smoldering shard of the fallen South Gate before him as a barrier. “This is no time to be running off. You’ve heard what Linnet Niksar said: there is to be a new order in this kingdom, one that will sweep away the past and be of enormous importance to the safety of the Bane tribe—especially now that the Broken army’s commander knows, if only roughly, where Okot is! So long as this is the case, and great as my respect for your companion—or rather, now, your companions—may be, you are not going anywhere, just yet.”
“It is not a moment for wisdom and justice to desert this city and this kingdom, Lord Caliphestros,” Veloc says, attempting greater conciliation than his fellow forager, but achieving even less effect. Caliphestros remains upon Stasi’s back, his face a stone mask that betrays no emotion save determination: an immovable determination to get out of the city that once was so welcoming to him, but which ultimately came close to costing him his life and, says the expression in his eyes, has not in fact changed so much that it may not try to do so again, should he stay.
Keera urges silence on her brother and their friend, then humbly implores, “My lord—” But very quickly, she catches her mistake. “I am sorry—you do not wish that title. Caliphestros—can you not see how much your influence will be needed in the actual building of this new style of kingdom that the proclamation Linnet Niksar has read will bring? Can you not undertake to contribute to it, for our sakes, if not for the people of Broken’s?”
But Caliphestros refuses to speak, even to Visimar, who stands nearby; and Arnem can see that some sort of intervention is required. As he moves his wife and son closer to each other, stepping out from between them as all soldiers present come to rigid attention and salute, he catches sight of Niksar, sitting astride his pure white mount, holding an unrolled piece of parchment as if its announcement was meant to resolve this and all problems, and betraying in his face complete surprise that it has not done so. Rather than approaching the participants in the confrontation at the gate directly, Arnem moves to his aide, his voice deliberately calm and inquisitive.
“Niksar,” he says.
“Yantek!” comes the reply; and the rank suddenly sounds stranger than it ever has, to Arnem’s ears.
“What have you been about, Linnet?” Arnem asks. “It was my understanding that you were attending to errands in the Fourth and then the First Districts.”
“As I did, Yantek,” Niksar explains quickly. “Well, that is, in the First. Your charge that I visit the Fourth District was delayed by the appearance of these—” Niksar indicates the bodies of Baster-kin’s men that litter the ground about them.
“And my children are safe?” Arnem says, wishing to be certain.
“Entirely safe, Yantek,” Niksar replies quickly. “They await outside the walls with a fauste of our men and Radelfer, as you directed. But I have carried out the second of my charges, and upon doing so thought it perhaps best to wait, and bring the children in only when we had resolved this matter of—Lord Caliphestros and his panthers.”
For the first time, Caliphestros turns his head, but only slightly, in Niksar’s direction, as if the remark was no more than what he had expected. “And so now they are dangerous animals to you, Niksar?” he asks, his voice bitter. “When for many days you have traveled with Stasi, and seen that she means no harm to anyone that does not threaten her?”
“But my lord—” Niksar begins to reply.
“I am not anyone’s ‘lord,’ ” Caliphestros says, not loudly, but with a rage that is unmistakable. “If I have not made that much clear during this campaign, then I have lost far more of the art of communication with my fellow men than I had thought the case.”
“Well—” But the moment is beyond Niksar’s negotiating skills, and he turns again to Arnem. “You see, Yantek, I went, as we had discussed—”
“As you two had discussed,” Caliphestros interrupts, his tone the same. “Apparently. I knew nothing of any such plan, nor did any member of the Bane tribe.”
“It is a minor point, Lord—” Arnem catches himself. “Your pardon—Caliphestros. Our purpose was only to discover the true intentions of the Layzin and the God-King, and to make our future plans accordingly. Was I in the wrong?”
“Since your ‘purpose’ evidently included revealing my presence in the city,” Caliphestros answers, “then I would say yes, you were in the wrong, by not consulting your allies.”
“Perhaps,” Arnem says. “But do you seriously suppose that Baster-kin, having observed our actions outside the walls, had not already made your presence, and that of the Bane, known within the High Temple, and thus to the royal family? And do you doubt that I only wished to explain that your presence was not to be feared?” These questions seem to mitigate Caliphestros’s fury, for an instant, and Arnem pursues the opening: “And, since Niksar evidently brings good news—well, what is the news you bring, Niksar?”
“Read for yourself, Yantek,” Niksar replies, handing the document down to his commander and himself saluting.
“I really do wish you could stop calling me that,” Arnem murmurs. “However, I suppose it is inevitable …”
“According to the God-King,” Niksar says, “it is more than inevitable: it is a heightened necessity, for you are a man of new standing—and power.”
As Arnem quickly reads the proclamation, he can see just how and why its actual wording—founded so basically in the Kafran faith and system of rule—would have inflamed the passions of the participants in the current disagreement when Niksar first read the thing. Such being the case, and not wishing to make matters worse, he simply and quickly summarizes its points: “It declares that Rendulic Baster-kin—the late Rendulic Baster-kin, I might add, Caliphestros—”
“That was his doing, and not ours,” Caliphestros angrily declares, his fears reignited rather than calmed. “My companions and I sought only to escape this damn city, that has done each of us such injustice.” He glances at the panthers: Stasi’s daughter paces in growing and dangerous confusion, and is clearly prepared to commit more violence of the variety that was inflicted on Baster-kin and his Guardsmen but moments ago, if such becomes necessary. She is only prevented from doing so by her mother: Stasi seems able to communicate to her offspring that these men—particularly the Bane before them, but the soldiers, as well—are not to be feared or attacked: not yet, at any rate.
“It is true, Sentek Arnem,” Keera declares, using the title that the commander of the Broken army seems, for the moment, to prefer, as a method of appealing to him. Veloc and Heldo-Bah nod in agreement. “We arrived just as the two parties met,” the tracker continues. “Caliphestros, Stasi, and her child were attempting only to leave the city, when Baster-kin goaded the Guardsmen with him—who, we now discover, had murdered the priests dispatched by your own God-King to arrest the Merchant Lord—into another, similarly treacherous attack: a decision that they would have been wise not to have taken, if escape was their goal.”
“Although,” Heldo-Bah says, “had they continued to try to run, and made for the East Gate, they would have encountered us, and met with the same fate—if delivered through slightly different means …”
“You would have done murder within the city walls, Heldo-Bah?” Arnem asks.
And for the first time, the three Bane look at Arnem with expressions in their faces that somewhat resemble Caliphestros’s own. “Murder—Yantek?” Heldo-Bah replies, deliberately provoking Arnem. “Were those not your orders—to hunt down and bring to justice every member of Baster-kin’s Guard that could be found?”
“I make no complaint about the Guardsmen,” Arnem answers. “But I gave no orders as to what was to be done with Baster-kin himself.”
“The chief of the Guard was not to be considered a member of it?” Veloc replies, somewhat astonished. “One who had already ordered the killing of an escort of priests who acted under the direct instruction of your God-King?”
“There is trou
bling inconsistency in that, Yantek, you must confess,” Keera adds gravely. “And, as I have told you, it was they who, in accordance with the Merchant Lord’s orders, attempted to bring about the completion of the sentence—the unjust sentence, as I have heard you yourself say—that was passed upon Caliphestros, so many years ago. The panthers acted in self-defense, and defense of their benefactor—and by urging them all to stay here, we sought only to make that great man’s wisdom available to you, as you assume your new powers.” Keera’s expression changes from surprise to suspicion. “But perhaps we have misunderstood the matter …”
“Yes,” Caliphestros says to the three Bane, nodding. “Now you begin to see it …”
“What ‘new powers’ do they speak of, Sixt?” Isadora says, moving with Dagobert to her husband’s side.
But affairs at hand command Arnem’s attention: “Allow me to say that, on the contrary, it is you, Caliphestros, who do not begin to see,” the yantek calls to the sage. “If this proclamation is true—and it bears the royal seal—then you shall be a lord and an advisor again.”
“I?” Caliphestros laughs. “To whom? To a king whom I knew to be perverse from boyhood, and whom I watched become still more treacherous than ever Baster-kin was as he grew? Or perhaps to his sister, who will wish my throat cut at the earliest opportunity, to rid herself of certain—inconvenient memories? Or is it to the Grand Layzin that you will recommend me, when he himself pronounced me a sorcerer, a heretic, and a criminal deserving of torture and death?”
“No, Lord Caliphestros,” Arnem replies. “You shall become an advisor to me.” The commander glances about at the collected crowd of soldiers, Bane, and residents of the Fifth District. “You have all heard the words that Niksar has proclaimed?” To their general assent, he turns to his wife and son, and summarizes the principal points it contains: “The Merchants’ Council is to be abolished, and the Merchants’ Hall destroyed. Rendulic Baster-kin is declared an enemy of the kingdom, to be arrested and suffer whatever punishment the God-King desires. The Yantek of the Army of Broken—”
“You, Father,” Dagobert says.
“It would seem so,” Arnem replies, not without some reluctance. “The Yantek of the Broken Army will become the chief secular official and power in the kingdom.”
“Father!” Dagobert declares, his recent battle seeming somehow and wholly vindicated.
“The ‘secret children’ of Rendulic Baster-kin—” And to the confusion of most of his assembled audience at this statement, Arnem raises a hand. “I know of this reference, so be calm, all of you. It is enough to say that they are alive, and that their ‘curs nature’ is declared an innocent inheritance, passed down by the traitor Baster-kin. They are decreed mere unfortunates, to be placed under the healing care of Lady Arnem.” He glances for a moment at his wife. “The Kastelgerd Baster-kin shall, for the time their healing takes, be returned to the supervision of its seneschal, Radelfer. Other members of the Baster-kin family may serve the God-King in their offices in other parts of the kingdom, unless and until they reveal similarly treasonous intentions as the former chief of their clan. Finally, one khotor of the Broken army, rather than the now-finished Merchant Lord’s Guard, shall see to peace within the walls of the city, in cooperation with the household guard that Radelfer has informally assembled in the Kastelgerd Baster-kin.” Rolling the parchment and handing it back to Niksar, Arnem continues, “And you, wife, are absolved of all wrongdoing. As is Visimar. The Fifth District is to be rebuilt, not destroyed. That siege, along with the attempt upon the life of the God-King blamed upon the Bane, were parts of Baster-kin’s pernicious plan to gain near-absolute power, and did not originate with his superiors or with those in Davon Wood. There are more but lesser details, all in the same spirit. And I remind you, Caliphestros, it bears the God-King’s seal.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Caliphestros finally answers, “Sentek—Yantek, whatever rank you now accept: have you seen the proclamation that was posted throughout the city before our entry? It also bears the royal seal.”
Seeing that Arnem has not, Niksar takes a sheet of parchment—this one coated with some kind of glue or lacquer—from a nearby soldier. “One of the scouts cut this from a wall in the Third District, Yantek—they have been posted throughout the city.”
Arnem quickly reads the thing, then passes it to his wife. “And what of it? It simply states the same information, in briefer form.”
“Sixt …,” Isadora says, her voice suddenly worried.
“Your wife sees the truth now as clearly as she did when she studied with the wisest woman in Broken,” Caliphestros declares, somewhat mollified. “My lady,” he goes on, putting a hand to his chest and bowing as much as he can from his place astride Stasi’s neck and shoulders. “Though I did not myself know you, then, I knew your mistress—a fact she doubtless withheld from you. She even suggested that you become one of my acolytes—an offer I refused, for your own safety. It required no great insight to see that you were destined for an important place, and should not risk your life in my service. The fate of Visimar—though he is, thankfully, with us today—and the even worse ends met by the others who followed me will attest to the wisdom of that decision.”
“My lord,” Isadora answers, with no little surprise and gratitude. “Praise from you is honor indeed—my mistress ever said so.” She turns to her husband. “And for this reason, Sixt, I must, as your wife, echo his concerns. This proclamation, issued before the conflict was decided, favors neither you nor Baster-kin. It is, indeed, so worded as to have made the citizenry believe that whichever side emerged triumphant, the God-King and the Grand Layzin had divined and approved the outcome.”
Reviewing the pronouncement, Arnem tilts his head in confusion. “That is one interpretation, surely. But it is the most cynical, to say nothing of the most sinister …”
“Cynical?” Heldo-Bah declares. “Sinister? Yantek Arnem, we, too have seen this decree, and know that your wife speaks only good sense, by the bloody, piss-stained face of—”
“Heldo-Bah!” Keera is forced to order. “Do not worsen matters with your foul blasphemies—of any kind.”
“Blasphemies or no, Yantek Arnem,” Caliphestros says, “you reveal with the smallest statement that you give credence to all this royal … maneuvering.”
“A hard word, Caliphestros,” Arnem declares. “I may have doubts. But if this latest proclamation gives me the power to do the things I must, then this city and kingdom can be reformed. With your help, and that of Visimar, we shall find the source of the first pestilence—”
“From what I understand, your wife already understands the essential problem, and needs no advice from me,” Caliphestros replies. “The same can be said of the second ailment and Visimar’s diagnosis. Between the two of them, and backed by the authority that you yourself have been given, they can devise a pair of solutions. If permanent solutions truly do exist …”
“But we have need of your wisdom, my lord,” Arnem pleads. “I do not offend Visimar, I believe, when I say that yours is a mind without equal.”
“You offend me not in the least,” Visimar rushes to say.
“And you make a flattering plea, Arnem,” Heldo-Bah declares, throwing aside the piece of charred oak he had used to block the panthers’ path. “Save for one thing: with your wife and Visimar both here, you do not need my legless lord, as he says. While the Bane will require their own wise man somewhere in the Wood. And, although I am sure that this is not the main reason that Caliphestros wishes to go back, any arguments against his return—especially arguments made by you, who, of all people, has suddenly become the precious creature of that God-King who starves the poor and shits gold—are self-serving demands against which the two panthers, in particular, will prove deaf. So I would suggest that if you continue to fight their departure, you do so at your peril. Yantek.”
From where they stand and sit atop rubble, Veloc and Keera join their suddenly eloquent friend, and the three
proceed to stand by the side of Stasi, her rider, and her daughter; and it is quite as clear from their expressions as it was from Heldo-Bah’s words that their opinions on where Caliphestros truly belongs have quickly changed.
“That we may fully understand one another—you continue to believe in the righteousness and honesty of the God-King and the Layzin, Yantek?” Veloc queries. “Because of two pieces of parchment that bear the ‘royal and holy seal’?”
“Do not presume to speak for me, Veloc,” Arnem warns. “My beliefs and reservations are well known. But I have the authority. It shall not be reversed—for I command the only power in Broken that could enforce such a reversal.”
“Ah,” Caliphestros noises. “So we come to it at last: power. Your power will put all things right. Tell me, Yantek: did it never occur to you that it was power that destroyed Rendulic Baster-kin—who was, I have told you, not doing evil, as he saw it, but obediently enforcing the will of the God-King?”
Arnem nods. “ ‘The last good man in Broken,’ you said.”
“As indeed he was—by your kingdom’s standards. Your wife knew him as a youth. Was he the same soul then, lady, that power would later make him?”