Although most households were limited to one representative, the hall was filled to overflowing. They had brought in all the chairs the space could hold, but there were still not enough. Quite a few attendees had to sit on the floor or lean against the walls. This was never going to be a normal gathering.
Jessa sat in the front row next to Elian, who had special permission to attend in case Jessa needed support. Jessa would have preferred Sarnd, but her grandmother was a trained healer and Betharad had insisted.
She breathed in and out. That was supposed to get rid of nerves, or so she was told. In a short while, Jessa would be the focus of all these people’s attention, and she needed to convince them the threat they faced was real. She was well aware of her reputation for being touchy and impatient. What if they decided she was exaggerating, or had misread the situation?
While her family and Kavilas believed her without question, they had all recommended she should omit the part about the burning branch—she agreed, still uncertain herself about what she’d seen. But even without that, she wondered if she would believe someone else if they stood up and said, “Guess what, you know how we celebrate Urzed being defeated and killed? Well, I have news...”
The air was filled with the tang of so many bodies crowded together. The only decorations were four large tapestries, and the building itself was plain and utilitarian. It occupied the site of the previous hall, a memorial to those who had suffered or died in the first conflict. It was also a place to hold important celebrations and strengthen the ties binding their community. Their strength of community might fray when people learnt what they were facing.
Apart from Betharad, all the members of the Council were seated at the long table across the front of the room, varying expressions on their faces as they waited for their steward. Of course they all knew. Caldos in particular looked stricken; some of his family had died in the Enjeb attack.
The first Enjeb attack, she corrected herself.
And if Sarnd was right, Urzed could be the least of their worries. She wanted to dismiss her brother’s alarming idea out of hand, but despite his outward appearance of being lazy and sarcastic, his mind could work in the most astounding ways. More than once, she’d known him to make a staggering intuitive leap to a conclusion that turned out to be correct.
Over the murmur of voices, a clicking sound began behind her. While most people turned to see who it was, Jessa had no need; the sound of Betharad’s walking stick on the flagstone floor was unmistakeable.
Jessa put aside her own nerves for the moment to admire the dignified way in which Betharad walked up the central aisle. As usual, she was dressed in plain, practical garments, and had tied her hair back in a no-nonsense style. Despite this, she had a presence that drew all eyes her way.
Betharad was starting to doubt whether she was equal to the challenge of being steward at a time like this—the signs were obvious to Jessa, though they might not be to people who didn’t know her well. Her sister’s feelings were only natural, given what had happened and what was still to happen. Jessa had helped Betharad with her election campaign, and was aware some people had voted for her only because of what their parents had done for Naerun.
But Betharad’s parentage was far less important than who she was. Her sister was a natural leader, and looked exactly how a steward should as she stood behind her chair at the centre of the table. Why could she not see that?
Betharad raised her arms wide to proclaim the traditional opening words, her voice clear and confident.
“Greetings, people of Naerun. This is your place. Know all that is said will be heard, and all that is promised will be honoured. Now, let us begin.”
Betharad took her seat. “In the summons to this gathering, we indicated Naerun faces a grave threat. You may have heard the Enjeb have been sighted near the town once again.” A rumble of agitation and fear passed through the room. “My sister was kidnapped by them and spoke with them. Luckily she escaped, and is prepared to share what she learned.”
This was it. Jessa stood and faced the room as she began to describe that night. She tried to ignore all the faces staring at her. Her own voice sounded faint to her ears—maybe Betharad was right to worry whether she was strong enough. Her sister would be watching her carefully, Elian too, ready to call a halt if they decided Jessa lacked the strength to continue.
But if Jessa failed, who else could tell them about the deadly ambition burning in Urzed’s eyes?
She was pleased to find her voice was becoming clearer and louder as she continued. Standing up in front of the whole town and talking about her experience was cathartic, helping her to cast off its lingering influence.
It was more than a little surprising when the whole assembly listened without interruption. When Jessa was done, the room was silent, without a murmur or squeak of a chair. She sat down, satisfied she had done her part to the best of her ability. Now it was up to them.
Kavilas stood. “Many of you will know about the fires that damaged several homes on the edges of Naerun yesterday. We have evidence they were caused by the Enjeb. To ensure our protection, we have begun repairing the town walls, and the Town Protectors have the Council’s authority to close the gates and check all those who seek admittance.”
A soft murmur filled the room, a distant wind gathering strength as it approached. Further along the same row as Jessa, one of the local traders tensed, but he remained silent. Hopefully that was an indication they would all accept the measures were for their own good.
After a few minutes, Betharad said, “I know this is news none of us wanted, but we should start thinking about how we can all contribute in this time of need. The walls will only help if we are ready to defend them.”
Chair legs scraped on the floor as someone near the back stood, and Jessa turned to look. It was good at least someone was prepared to volunteer, rather than letting the Council and protectors do all the work.
“We’ll do what we must,” the man said in a loud voice, “to protect our families and homes. But what I want to know is, what will you do to stop this?”
His abrupt tone and accusing finger were to be expected, after hearing such ill tidings. Betharad nodded and said with due solemnity, “You can be confident the Council will be—"
“No, I’m not talking about the Council, I’m asking you. It was your parents who were supposed to have dealt with this all those years ago.” He crossed his arms and stared directly at Betharad. Her eyes had widened, but that was the only outward sign she was unsettled. She was good at hiding her emotions—unlike Jessa, whose anger threatened to break free.
Then a woman on the other side of the room stood and added, “Yes, that’s right. You and your family are more than happy to parade yourselves around the town, thinking you’re above us all. There must be something you can do, or are you completely useless?”
Jessa gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to stand up and give these ungrateful people a piece of her mind. How dare the woman level that criticism at Betharad, of all people?
She was glad when Kavilas stood again, his tall frame commanding the room’s attention. He had probably saved her from blurting out words she would regret later.
“Enough!” the marshal said. “We need to use our time more wisely than making unfounded accusations.”
“You would say that,” the woman persisted, “but you agree with whatever she says. We’ve all seen how you follow her around like a love-struck puppy!”
The whole gathering erupted into a storm of shocked laughter and scandalised gasps. Jessa looked at her sister and then the marshal, as the pieces fitted together—she was amazed she’d never seen it before. She recalled how Betharad and Kavilas always listened to each other, and how their faces lit up when they saw one another. They definitely shared a connection that went beyond the relationship of people who worked closely together.
From the open mouths and flushed faces of both Betharad and Kavilas, it seemed they were not conscious of it.
Their grandmother was far from surprised, that was certain; Elian’s eyes were misty and she was beaming as if she had witnessed a long-expected marriage proposal. Jessa liked Kavilas, even though he could be unyielding at inconvenient times, and often gave sensible advice she’d rather not hear. Just like Betharad. They’d be a good match.
The problem was, even if they weren’t busy preparing the town for another Enjeb attack, neither Betharad nor Kavilas would act on their feelings in case it created difficulties for them in their work.
Caldos raised his voice to cut through the clamour. “Please be silent! We should not be arguing when we need to be united.”
Enough sensible people in the room agreed, and the rest followed suit when they realised the general commotion was fading away. It was a relief that the discussion became more civilised and turned to practical matters. No objections were raised to the closure of the gates. Like the walls, they had been constructed after the first Enjeb assault on the town, and this would be the first time they’d been used.
Having seen what Urzed could do, Jessa doubted the gates would be much of a barrier, open or shut. But she kept the thought to herself.
A man urged the Council to send the refugees away in case they were in league with the Enjeb. His passion and argument caught Jessa by surprise, but she wondered if he had a point. She thought about the many hours she spent working at Naerun’s Open House, where refugees made up a significant proportion of the clientele. At no time had she felt unsafe there. The only time in her life she’d felt threatened was when she’d been Urzed’s camp, and she knew first hand that despite appearances, the Enjeb were no more refugees than she was.
More than a few people murmured in agreement to the man’s suggestion. Even some of the Council members were nodding, which was a bad sign.
In the wake of this, a young man stood and cleared his throat. He had arrived in Naerun as a refugee several years earlier, without enough money for a piece of bread. He now owned a successful shop selling wine and other goods, with customers who included a number of those nodding at the previous proposal.
“I am Lehir. Most of us who come here do so to escape the troubles in our homeland. We only wish to make a peaceful life for ourselves and our families. None of us support those who seek to cause more conflict.”
Jessa closed her eyes, letting out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding in. She never wanted to stir up trouble for people who were desperate enough to leave their whole lives behind and flee to a new land, with no idea what they would find.
“How can we be sure you’re not here spying for them?” someone shouted from the back. “For all we know, all of you could be from the Enjeb tribe!”
Lehir shook his head, clearly frustrated. He gave Jessa a look of appeal, but she had no idea how to help him. “You do not understand. The Enjeb are not truly what you would call a ‘tribe’. They are only a small group, outcasts from their knot, and—”
“Knot? What are you talking about?” This was Mirul, making no attempt to disguise his hostility.
“I’m sorry, you do not have a word for it in your language. We call it a raimi, which can mean a knot, but also a group of people tied together by kinship and alliances. There are many raimi in the Alminarrh.”
“So, a raimi is a town?” asked Betharad, an encouraging smile on her face.
Lehir’s answering smile was brief. “A little. But not the same. Raimi do not always stay in the same place—they move sometimes. And they are independent from each other, there is no central ruler over them all.”
“That explains why they are always fighting each other,” remarked Caldos with a frown.
Lehir looked him directly in the eye and said, rather daringly, “Not at all. Most raimi are peaceful.” Jessa had heard that a major reason for the perpetual fighting was the interference of other nations, hoping to get hold of the minerals and jewels that were rumoured to abound in the Alminarrh. But it seemed Lehir was unwilling to raise that in the gathering, which was probably for the best.
“As I have been explaining,” Lehir continued, addressing the whole room, “the Enjeb are not a raimi. They rebelled against their leader many years ago and were cast out. They wander, creating problems and leaving behind heartache as they go.”
Kavilas had regained his composure and air of authority by this time. He stood and said, “Thank you, Lehir. That is very informative, and I dare say few of us have taken the time to understand those distinctions before.” The marshal looked around the room, and his steady gaze quelled any residual grumbling. “There is no evidence at all to suggest any refugees are allied to the Enjeb. If any information does come to light then please bring it to the protectors, and we will ensure it is investigated and appropriate action taken. But in the meantime, I’m ashamed to think anyone from Naerun would consider expelling innocent and defenceless people.”
The tense mood in the room dissipated for now, although Mirul and Arvica still looked unimpressed. They were not the only ones. How long would it be before such hostility reared up again?