My troop would reach its destination in time, but only just. The cupula-topped tithe tower rose above one of Bessradi’s wealthiest neighborhoods along a boulevard lined with plazas and private gardens. The riverside collection of estates boasted its own walls, private militia, and a tall iron brazier that could be lit to alert the garrison of trouble. Few who did not live or work there had ever seen its streets, but everyone in Bessradi knew of the wine merchants’ wharf that was its heart and soul. Most every barrel that the city drank arrived there first. The neighborhood was by far our hardest target.
The sun was down and with it the temperature. I picked up my head to observe the icicles that hung from every sill and post. I also got a look across the river at the Treasury Keep and the solid square of the Chancellery. Bright braziers around its roof illuminated the pennants of the arilas who had arrived for the spring meeting of the Council of Lords, and upon the dome in the center Lord Vall’s name flew above them all. Only Heneur’s and Enhedu’s pennants were missing.
I grinned, despite the cold. The capital’s garrison was well distracted.
The rest of the capital was equally distracted. Every person not clapped in chains was sitting around a dinner table or gathered into a great pavilion upon the Grand Mhedhil, wine glasses in hand, waiting for the recitation of evening prayers to be joined and concluded. It was at that moment that a million glasses would go up in celebration of the new year and would be gulped down to mark the start of a thousand great feasts and marvels of entertainment. Khrim Zovi had written extensively on the importance of the day and was the favorite prophet of most for that reason. I’d memorized much of his writings when I was young and my career needed a leg up. I could only remember the one then.
And so Khrim Zovi wrote,
Upon the eve of the new year, the sacrament of the Creed observed, a toast made to our Lord in Heaven and a meal taken in His name, the conception of a child is the most holy communication possible of our love for our Lord above.
I’d failed to perform this divine communication until very late in life. Most of the Kaaryon reveled in communicating with Bayen every year. The only people left in the streets were a last few who stood in line before the doors of the tithe tower.
A sermod stepped out to be bombarded by their pleas. She hurried them in. I stepped up the short set of stairs after them. She waved me away, eager to get out of the cold and only too happy to deny a slave the same petition.
“You’re late,” she said. “Your lord will have to come tomorrow and pay his tithe plus penalty, and we are not accepting wood this year.”
I could not argue with her, but this was a contingency we had prepared for. “Not tithe, Madam,” I said without picking up my head. “A gift for the tower, to fend off the new cold, my master said. Bread and sausages too, fresh both.”
She thought about this for a moment but could not object to such a gift. “This way then, quickly, bring it all around to the side entrance.”
She led us around, unlocked the heavy door, and ordered us inside while the criers far above began their first recitation of Bayen’s Creed. A priest somewhere inside objected to the wash of cold air. The sermod explained from the doorway and yelled for us to hurry. We were happy to oblige and filed into the back of the wide room behind the counters where the last few people frantically counted out the coins they owed. A dozen priests and as many sermod were there, all counting coins upon the tables used most days by the city’s healers to tend to those who could afford their magic. The place was not as clean as I expected, nor as guarded. A pair of disinterested Hessier stood by the far corner next to a narrow stairway that led up into the tower. A pair of pikemen stood at weak attention by the front door.
We charged into the room, and I did not need to give the order. All together we shed our heavy bundles of kindling and lamp oil and were on top of them the next instant with hammers out and up. The spike of mine pierced the top of one Hessier’s helmet, and he went down. My sergeant and two others struck the second Hessier with a frantic flurry of blows. It crashed backward against the wall, and gray blood pumped wildly through its destroyed helmet and up the dark wood.
I yanked the spike of my hammer free. Behind me, my greencoats had all but finished the rest. The priests and sermod were dead. The guards at the front door seemed ready to face us, but struck upon their shoulders and hips, they wilted back and were cut down. The three unfortunate witnesses were not afforded a pardon.
The rest went as planned. Half the men collected the sacks and boxes of coins toward a single table where my sergeant dumped the contents into ready satchels. The rest of the men stacked the lamp oil and kindling into the stairway and stripped off the Hessier’s armor. Once done, we shed our bloodied layers of threadbare overcoats and breeches to reveal proper Hemari bluecoats beneath. A water bucket and cloth was found for the few men who had blood upon their hands, faces, or boots. The shed clothes and our war hammers went onto the ready bonfire, and I lit the pile. By the time the flames had taken hold, the criers far above were only just finishing their second recitation of Bayen’s Creed.
… We believe in the final judgment of the dead,
the blue flame of heaven, the black ice of hell,
and look for the rewards of the life ever after.
We shouldered the heavy packs and marched out the way we came in. I led them back east at the double-quick and was at once put at ease by the measured stomp of our boots. It was not going to happen again in my lifetime that I stumbled along with my head held low.
“Make way!” I yelled to the militiamen that milled about the neighborhood’s gatehouse. They balked, stepped aside, and did not manage as much as a hello.
I had us around a corner and halfway to another intersection before the last line of the creed reverberated through the city. The celebratory orgasm of shouts and screams tore loudly across the darkness as the capital flung open its windows and screamed at the night in glee.
Around the city one after another of the towers burst into bright flame. And as the red tongues rose, the quality of the city’s screaming changed. People poured into the streets. Fear and panic took hold. I tried to count how many towers were lit, but got busy ordering terrified onlookers out of our way.
“Sir, I count fourteen,” one of the lads exclaimed.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, General. All of them,” he replied, and the lads growled happily.
“Steady now. We’ve a long cold march left before we’ll see a good night’s rest. Save it.”
They calmed but kept a quick pace while the city convulsed around us. My hollering and the pound of our boots won our way clear, and we marched through the Tanayon’s gardens, across a wide river bridge, and into the Servants’ Quarter.
We met Geart’s contingent there. He was in Hemari blue and looked every bit the grizzled guardsman he once was—an unmovable blue mountain with hands the size of mason’s mallets.
A number of his men bore full packs, and in their midst was a man I did not know. Each of these was a gross deviation from the plan, but his explanation for them would have to wait. We saluted each other and continued south to a wide uncluttered plaza. Several other troops had already arrived and others were on their way in along the converging avenues. Our men formed up with the rest, and I met Geart beneath the tall statue of a cavalryman while my master sergeant went to collect reports from the rest.
“You fared well?” I asked Geart.
“I did,” he replied. “We were ambushed as expected at the meeting. Only four Hessier came, but the dormitories were crowded. There are not many healers left in Bessradi.”
He stopped speaking, and I was close to accusing him of dereliction when his old Hemari gears finally engaged. He corrected his omission.
“I took as prisoner the librarian who alerted the Hessier. He has knowledge of the magic of the Earth and Shadow that I require. We also secured materials from the library—texts on the profession of healing.”
“Also required?”
“I would trade the entire tithe for the books or the man.”
I disapproved but didn’t have time to argue.
The last troop was arriving late and slow. I saw at once why they were delayed. One man was injured high upon the left thigh. Avin and Geart went to tend to the wounded man while my sergeant collected their commander’s report. I met my sergeant as he stepped away.
“All is well, General,” the old Chaukai sergeant said. “One of those fool pikemen managed a lucky thrust. All else went as planned. All fourteen towers were successfully looted and struck—nine Hessier killed, thirteen counting Geart’s four.”
“Rot. I was hoping for double that number.”
“Shall we make a try for the cathedral?” he asked, and I did not doubt for a moment that he was serious.
I considered it for one long glorious moment and imagined the long dark spire erupting into the brightest flame Zoviya had ever seen. But the city’s panic was growing ever louder around us. Hemari and militias were mustering all over the city.
“No. Time to be away.”
He spun and ordered the march, and I took my place forward of the textbook six-by-fifty column of men. We pressed west to the banks of the river and south along the wide boulevard that followed its meandering course. We were stopped only once by a fast-moving fire brigade that had the right of way. They too were a tool of the prelature, but they did not have the typical greed-driven grins of men with the authority to loot things touched by Bayen’s flame. The pikemen that preceded them had their weapons leveled, and the red hat in command was screaming for the brigade to move faster. The line of water-barrel-laden wagons trundled by, and we continued on.
We reached the tall gatehouse at the end of the boulevard more or less on schedule, but I did not see what I’d hoped to. The gates were closed, and the Hemari captain on station was struggling to push back a large crowd.
The mass of citizenry retreated as my company arrived with a thunder of boots and my master sergeant’s calls of, “Stand clear!” and “Make way!”
I met the gate captain in the midst of this tenuous pause in the action and worked hard to remember the nuances of the story that went with our uniforms. Behind me, I knew, the men were preparing themselves to storm the gatehouse if I failed to talk our way through.
The captain had the angled jaw and thin nose of a northerner, from Thanin or Aneth if I had to guess, and was clearly not a pale-skinned Bellion or Feseq fresh-spawned from the Urmand Academy. I was further encouraged when the captain saluted me properly.
“I never thought I’d be happier to see an academy officer,” he said with a touch of humor. “I’d ask what has you all the way upriver, but can’t say that we have the time to chat. You were sent to take command, I pray?”
“Apologies, Captain. These lads haven’t even finished their fifty days. They would be of little help to you. I am just trying to get them clear of the city. We are due in Escandi tomorrow by sundown.”
“My apologies, gates closed until further notice,” he said and looked at me skeptically. I tensed and got ready to break his jaw. “Hold one,” he said. “You mean to tell me you intend to march from Bessradi to Escandi in one day, carrying, what is that, thirty weight packs? While it’s still snowing out? You’d have to quick march straight through the night …” his voice trailed off for a moment, but then his face lit with a knowing smile. “… which you seem now to be starting. And look at that … hired on a healer, too. Trying for a promotion to 1st division, are you?”
“I am as you see me, Captain,” I said to him with a shrug. “I will not pull rank on a gate captain—not in this lifetime. If you need us to stay, just point me in the direction of your barracks.”
“My barracks? What?” he asked, forgetting himself for a moment.
“Detain us and you owe us lodging,” I replied and nearly quoted the rule to him but was able to bite back the insult in time. It also went unsaid that he and his men would be out of pocket for alternative lodging if they did not have extra bunks—which the Bessradi garrison never did.
The captain’s men grumbled and looked very eager suddenly to be rid of us. The man did not miss this, and he leaned in close. “What’s the trouble do you figure? Did you see anything on your way through?”
“Looks like it did in ‘88 when the Sten handed down the Edict of the Renewal and the Ministry began the first purge—just faster and better coordinated—church business all the way, whatever the case.”
“My thoughts as well,” he nodded, and after a few curses under his breath, he waved over one of his lieutenants and asked if the moat was still frozen. The man nodded.
“Good enough, then. Escort these men through the sally door.” To me he said, “You were well down the road when the trouble started. Is that clear?”
“Very, Captain. Stay warm.”
We followed his lieutenant down the dark wall to a thin iron door. I sent my men through and watched the unfortunate captain struggle against the renewed press of the crowd. Bessradi hated to be locked away. I was very glad to be free of her myself.
The door closed behind us, and the darkness of night on the far side was startling. We eased our way down and up the embankments of the frozen moat and made for the road. The crunch of the snow masked the noise of the stricken city, but nothing could mask the smell of the fires. The smoke rolled over us as we started south along the tithe road.
I felt like a conquering general after a day of pillage—Bessradi left in ruins by my mighty armies. And the more distance we put between ourselves and the capital, the more it seemed true. We’d savaged the city’s church and ministry, killed its healers and Hessier, and stole the millions of coins that were its lifeblood. I could not have done more damage if I’d marched on Bessradi with an army of 100,000 greencoats.
I called a brief rest when we’d covered a fair bit of ground. The men looked back at it with me, their breath rising up from them in a great cloud just as the smoke of our fires wafted about the lantern-lit city.
My sergeant did not share the same look of triumph. He answered my questioning look. “No tracks on the road, sir. Captain Sahin should have already passed here on the way back to the estate. He is late.”
All my calculations of our success turned. Our timetable for escaping could not wait. His failure—his capture—would mean death and destruction for us all.
I set the thought aside and got us moving south once again. Only the most extraordinary events could have undone Sahin.
Short pines began to crowd both sides of the road, and we found the carriageway that wound its way west. The estate, a meal, and our ponies waited there for us. But there was no sign of Sahin’s passing there, either.
I stepped out of line with Avin, Geart, and my master sergeant while the rest continued on.
It grew quiet enough to hear the icy snowflakes falling.
“What do we do if he does not come?” Geart asked.
“He’ll come,” I said and willed the dark road to give me my captain.
And we waited. The falling snow began to obscure the passage of my company.
My sergeant stated the obvious. “The men will have eaten, buried their bluecoats, and made themselves ready to take the last barge across the river.”
The muffled clatter of hooves answered as if from a dream. But their pace was too sharp. I hooded my lantern and pulled us off the road as lantern light and blue shapes appeared out of the snowy darkness.
It was Sahin and his men, but they did not slow. They galloped by as though they’d missed the turn. I hollered at them to no effect. Several threw their saddlebags into the trees beside the road. Sahin proved to be last in line. He pulled up.
“Get out of sight,” he hissed and hurried us into the trees. Down the road the rest of his men hid themselves similarly.
“Get down,” was all he said to us as he worked to string his bow and ready an arrow. Along the road, their lantern lights vanished.
More hooves shocked me awake, and I was startled to see a line of bluecoat scouts galloping like mad toward us with poll-mounted lantern boxes that were bright enough to illuminate the falling snow and the emblems upon their shoulders. They were from the 1st brigade of the Hemari 5th—Crown Prince Evand’s brigade.
Geart grabbed Sahin’s arm as he took aim. “You can’t.”
The Hemari in me rebelled as violently. Sahin meant to ambush my brothers in blue, and I took hold of him.
“Leave off,” Sahin said. “2,000 more follow this lot.”
There was no time to debate it. The line of riders was upon us, and the rest of Sahin’s men were about to fire. There were more scouts than men taking aim. Some would get away and bring the rest of Prince Evand’s crack brigade down upon us. Sahin’s ambush would not earn him the separation he hoped. We were lost.
A sudden and wondrous sound carried over me, and a blazing purple glow lit the night. Geart was singing, and his magic bathed the horses and riders. The horses slowed, the scouts slid forward in their saddles, and man and beast alike slumped to the ground—asleep. The godly glow vanished, and Geart fell to his knees.
Sahin began to shriek in pain while the rest of his men rushed out of the trees.
Avin grabbed hold of Sahin. “You heard his song? The noun or the verb?”
“Both … marvelous,” he gasped as the pain folded him.
“Quiet, both of you,” I said, and rushed out onto the road where Sahin’s men were getting ready to cut the scouts’ throats.
“Stand down,” I ordered. “Leave these men where they lay.”
Sahin stumbled after me. He was bleeding badly from his nose.
“Report,” I demanded of my captain.
“Prince Evand arrived at Dagoda after we did. We didn’t know he was there until he was after us.”
“Rot,” I spat. “Nothing for us to do about it now. Assemble your men. We’ll escape across the river.”
“No, they are too close. They’ll find our trail.”
“Are you suggesting we separate?”
“I’ll decoy them south and east into Berm—make for Havish and buy a ship with the gems we stole. The rest of the saddlebags are the gold and silver—too heavy to bring. You take it. All I need is the gems and the scouts’ horses. We’ll be back in Enhedu by the end of spring.”
His plan was good, but sounded too foreign from a man born in Enhedu. “How did you come up with Havish?”
“Urnedi’s maps and books. I know enough about the men of the East. I’ll buy what we need. We’ll be fine.”
“You want this.”
He shrugged and wiped the blood off his face. There was no time left for questions. His men had already slapped the scouts’ horses awake and tied them on. The lantern boxes were up and lit. They were ready to move. Sahin was right that he could not come with us. Our only chance was if his trail moved south and took all pursuit with it.
“Go,” I said. He and his men saluted me, mounted up, and galloped away.
The sergeant and I collected the heavy saddlebags. The weight of them damn near broke my back. Geart was having trouble without the extra, but I could not worry about him just then. I got us moving through the trees and out of sight of the tithe road.
We were a third of the way toward the estate when a sudden commotion had us searching for Prince Evand’s brigade. The rush came from the other direction, and I was alarmed to see the librarian leading fifty men of my company down the carriageway. I drew my sword, expecting he had them under some spell.
“Which Hessier sang it?” he demanded suddenly. “I heard the song. Which Hessier is here? Minister Sikhek? Minhost?”
“It was me,” Geart answered but looked unable to say much more.
“Rubbish,” the man said. “Only Hessier can sing songs that powerful.”
Avin asked him, “You heard the song?”
“Heard it? What kind of priest are you? We must be away from here, now. If you have a plan for it, you best be quick about it.”
I nearly hit him with my sword, but I could not argue with his urgency.
I turned the men around, and we made for the river.