The Book of Heroes (34 page)

Ash lifted a long finger. “For one, there is the deeply ingrained concept of ‘southern progression’—more of a desire than a concept, actually. The people of this land have long wanted to spread to the warmer territories in the south. In order to do that, we must invade another country, and for that, we must have a strong army. As I said, we have fought many wars to expand our borders—though few were successful. Next”—he lifted a second finger—“the Haetlands are a northern country. We spend more than a third of each year encased in ice. We are thin, with little land worth tilling. It is difficult for us to live off the bounty of the land alone. Hunting and livestock help, for certain, but it’s not enough.”

However, the Haetlands were rich under the soil. Iron, copper, gold, silver, and coal could all be found in large amounts. The mines had produced precious gems as well—diamonds and emeralds by the bucket.

“Trace the family lines back, and you’ll find most of our nobility were once in the mining business. As the landed nobles struggled with one another for access to the richest veins, the lords and their followers joined in alliances, eventually forming the kingdom as we know it today.”

Merchants, endowed with the right to trade under the watchful eyes of the nobles, soon gained power, creating another class of the wealthy and privileged. They were joined by the larger land owners, who controlled a large portion of the sparse farmland in the Haetlands.

“Though the land is poor, we are rich. At least, in certain places. There is a great disparity in wealth, which means that those with the gold require military strength to protect their privileged positions. Luckily for them, their coffers are overflowing, and they can well afford to maintain a sizable active army.”

In the Haetlands, the military also took on the task of preserving order—effectively becoming a kind of well-armed police force.

“Were I the second son of a poor farmer, my choice would be clear: I would join the army. It is more than just secure employment. To a certain extent, soldiers and keepers of the peace are given authority.”

U-ri thought about what he meant for moment. “So they go from being poor, overworked, and in danger of arrest to being well-fed and the ones doing the arresting.”

It wasn’t about loyalty to the royal house. It was about choosing sides. Did they want to be counted among the ones with wealth and power, or the ones without?

“A farmer with a single plot of land will never escape poverty, not in a lifetime. Working the mines earns better pay than farming, but the danger is commensurate. There is no guarantee you’ll keep your job, either.”

“What about merchants? Are they free to do business as they like?”

Ash explained that in order to become a merchant, royal decree stipulated that one had to join a merchant guild, for which one needed a considerable amount of collateral and the backing of a merchant already in the guild.

“Must be a whole lot of bribery going on,” Aju squeaked from U-ri’s collar, where he had been pretending to sleep since she came upstairs. “I bet it’s all over the place.”

“Enough for even a young dictionary who knows little of the world to sniff out, yes,” Ash said with a grin. “It is as you say, Aju. One cannot simply become a merchant. Some try to become officials of the state, but that requires this.” He tapped his head. “And the proper lineage. So that’s not easy, either.”

U-ri sighed. “So it’s all about where you’re born.”

“Not if you join the army. There, it’s possible to get ahead in the world through your deeds. It’s not entirely unreasonable to imagine a boy from a nobody family in a nobody village becoming a great soldier, even a general. Thus are new nobles born.”

Once systems like these became established, it was hard to overturn them, Ash explained. “The young ones who joined the army know the poor life of the farmer and the unbearable working conditions that the miner must endure. But once your own lot is steady and secure, it’s hard to get all that enthusiastic about changing the way things are.”

Which was why all of the uprisings before Kirrick had begun among the disenfranchised, the small-time farmers and mine workers. They rebelled against overtaxation or stood up in rage when mine cave-ins or pestilence claimed the lives of their friends. The people who rose up were the ones who could sink no lower.

And the ones who put them back in their places were the soldiers of the royal army.

“And none of the soldiers take the side of the people?”

“What reason would they have? Without ideals or righteous indignation, it’s hard to imagine them wanting to lift a finger to help. And even if they did have these things, they wouldn’t last three days.” Ash spoke plainly. “Even in the midst of injustice, if one’s own position is not endangered, it is only human to defend the status quo.”

“Well then,” U-ri said shrugging her shoulders, “why doesn’t everyone just join the army? Leave the mountains and their fields to rot. That would get the king and those nobles where it hurts.”

“U-ri, U-ri,” Aju squeaked, petting her cheek with the tip of his long tail. “The farmers and miners are tied to the land. It always works like that. They have laws to keep them where they are, under the watchful eye of their lord. They couldn’t leave if they wanted to. They don’t have freedom. If they tried to just run away, they’d be punished. I mean, isn’t that obvious? Haven’t you ever read a history book?”

U-ri looked at Ash. “It appears I left something out of my explanation,” he said. “You see, in order to join the army or become an official, one needs the permission of the local minister of the land. Aju is correct. The common people are not permitted to move freely.”

Many youths joined the army, but only when the land could spare them. The system took all excess labor force from localities across the kingdom, absorbing them into the government via the army, Ash explained.

“What about girls? Can they join the army too?” U-ri asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her. “Are there many female soldiers?”

Ash blinked slowly. “There are some. Mostly from the more prominent military houses whose ancestors were generals for many generations.”

“What about village girls?”

“They go to the mining towns or the farming towns to become wives and mothers, and give birth to the next generation of laborers. All while working themselves, of course,” Ash told her. “They have no freedom, either.”

“Don’t they ever rebel?”

Ash guffawed, as though he had never heard such a thing. “That…would be difficult. In places where there has been a disaster or famine, and they can no longer live there, the village girls go to the towns—” Ash’s smile vanished and U-ri thought a look of pity came into his eyes. “In order to survive, many sell themselves. Even girls your age. Without a family or proper papers, there’s little hope of finding decent work, even in the larger towns.”

“I get it, I get it,” Aju squeaked, switching his tail and climbing on top of U-ri’s shoulder. His tail stung a bit where it slapped the back of her neck. “I get what kind of place the Haetlands is. So tell me why you say Kirrick’s rebellion worked. There is still civil war, isn’t there?”

Ash crossed his legs and grunted at the mouse. “I was getting to that—perhaps I took a little too much time with the preamble.”

The tea in U-ri’s silver cup had gone completely cold.

“Kirrick’s rebellion succeeded—at first.” Ash’s eyes dropped to the floorboards beneath his feet. “Cadasque the Third was imprisoned, and his family and those stewards, retainers, and officers who didn’t bow to Kirrick were apprehended and sentenced. Kirrick was made king.

“He was of the royal bloodline, after all, so he had a claim to the throne. That was another thing that set Kirrick’s rebellion apart from all that had come before. But,” Ash added, lifting a finger, “there was another problem. The rebellions before had come about at the hands of common folk, who used nothing but their hoes and mining picks for weapons. Up against a trained, properly armed military, their weapons might as well have been made of wax. They were crushed with ease. Not so Kirrick’s army. He led neither starving farmers nor angry miners.”

“You mean he had his own army? I thought he was poor,” Aju said.

“No army at first,” Ash explained, shaking his head. “But he built one. An immortal army.”

U-ri’s eyes went wide. “Soldiers that can’t die? How’s that work?”

“They could not die because they were dead to begin with,” Ash told them. “Kirrick led an army of the walking dead—”

He was interrupted by Sky, who had been sitting a short distance away by the window. “Someone comes,” the devout said.

U-ri ran over to him. Getting her footing on the crossbeam, she grabbed the windowsill and lifted herself up so she could see the terrain. Below, a small child wrapped in rags was dashing through the gravestones, occasionally jumping over them, making for the entrance to the hut.

“Dmitri!” she heard him shout. “Dmitri, are you home?”

It’s a boy.
U-ri peered through the snow and noticed with a start that the ironbound gate at the bottom of the hill was still closed, the padlock securely attached.
How did he get inside
?

“Who’s Dmitri?” Aju asked.

“Me,” Ash replied and went down the stairs.

U-ri quickly followed him as quickly and as quietly as she could—though she knew the vestments of protection hid her from both sight and sound.

The heavy door to the hut opened with a loud slam.

“Dmitri!” The boy’s eyes found Ash immediately, and a smile spread across his face. Then he shot across the room like a cannonball. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

The boy jumped and Ash—or Dmitri, rather—caught him in midair with a practiced ease.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” The boy hung on to Ash’s neck with one arm, and playfully hit Ash’s shoulder with a tightly clenched fist.

“I’ve only just returned,” Ash explained, a gentle curve to his sleepy eyes. “How did you know?”

“The smoke from your chimney,” the boy said with a triumphant chortle. He then sprang away from Ash as lightly as he had jumped to him. It was like watching a tiny acrobat at work. He didn’t just leap down, he did a backflip before landing on the floor.

U-ri stared at him.
Who is this boy? Is he from a circus?

“You bring me a present?” the boy asked as he jumped about the room like an organ grinder’s monkey, snooping for hidden treasures.

“I see you’re as energetic as ever, Udsu,” Ash said, taking a seat at a crude wooden table. “How’s your mother doing?”

For the first time since she had spotted him through the window, the acrobatic boy stopped. From this close, she could see that his clothes were little more than ragged strips of cloth wrapped tightly around him. Loose threads hung from the hem like spaghetti. At the wolf’s question, a cloud came over the boy’s small face. The boy’s eyes were sharp, but his cheeks were pale. His body was thin—almost emaciated. U-ri wondered how old he was.
Maybe seven or eight
?

“Not so good. She’s been getting a fever at night.”

“I see.”

“She’s taking the medicine you gave me, though, Dmitri.”

“Perhaps I should adjust the formula. I’ll give you a new batch soon. You have to wait for your present until then. I haven’t even begun to unpack.”

“I’ll help you!”

“Now, you know that won’t do. If they find you’re here, the village elders won’t be pleased.”

Udsu stuck out his lower lip in a pout. It seemed that even in a region as different from U-ri’s as this, kids were the same.

“I don’t care. The elder doesn’t scare me.”

“Rules are rules, child. If you want to break them, at least have the wit not to flout them openly.”

Udsu frowned, his arms dropping to his sides. The sleeves of his ragged robes swept the floor.

“Fine. I’ll be waiting at home, then.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“You’ll come soon, right? My mom’ll be waiting.”

Ash assured the boy he understood, guiding him back to the door. Ash opened the door and called after him, “Be careful, all right?”

“Me? I’ll be fine!” the boy shouted, dashing out at breakneck speed. U-ri watched him leave, jumping over gravestones and swerving between them like a slalom racer. Two mysteries were solved—one, why Ash had told the boy to be careful, and two, how Udsu had been able to get over the fence.

It was simple really. He had jumped it. On the way out, he did a forward flip over the high iron bars, waving back to Ash as he landed on the far side.

“That kid human?” Aju asked, standing up on his hind legs. He was clearly impressed.

“He’s human,” Ash replied, shutting the door firmly. “Though he has ‘springfoot.’ It’s a kind of, well—” he paused, searching for the right word. “It’s a kind of disease.”

“A disease that makes you stronger? I didn’t know there was such a thing.” To U-ri’s eyes, the boy had looked like a star athlete. How could that be an illness?

“You saw how he runs?”

“Yes. His legs are amazingly strong.”

“Indeed—but he cannot run in a straight line.”

Now that he said it, she realized it was true. There was a proper path from the gate up to the little shack, but the boy hadn’t used it at all, choosing (she’d thought) instead to weave through the gravestones.

“Springfeet have superhuman strength in their legs. But they can’t control it. That’s why he can’t sit still, not even for moment. His legs keep moving of their own accord.”

The boy couldn’t go to school nor work in the fields, Ash explained.

“Are all the people in this village like that?”

“No,” Ash replied, indicating the stairs with a jerk of his head. “Let us continue our previous discussion while I brew that medicine for Udsu’s mother. What I was telling you about is related to this, after a fashion.”

Unbelievably, it looked like he intended to make the medicine on that incredibly cluttered table with the high school chemistry set. Ash opened a small drawer next to the table and began to pull out what looked like the roots of plants, leaves, and a sandlike powder he kept in a small flask. Then he sat and began to work.