The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) (23 page)

The tip of my blade was touching Carle's throat. I hastily withdrew it and sheathed my sword, saying, "I'm sorry – did I use a forbidden move?"
Carle was breathing heavily from the fight; his eyes were unfocussed. Several seconds passed before he smiled and said, "Don't ask that question to a Koretian breacher. He'd geld you in order to teach you the meaning of 'forbidden moves' in Koretia."
Several of the men laughed, and everyone turned their attention away from us as Carle scooped his sword off the dirt floor. "I won't have to worry about whether you can guard my back," he said. "I should have guessed you'd be skilled. I suppose you received your first blade when you were seven or eight years old?"
"Six," I replied. "My cousin Emlyn gave me my first dagger as a gift when he moved south."
"I received my first blade when I was fifteen," said Carle; then he laughed as I struggled to control my expression. "It's the custom in Emor – and the main reason why so many patrol guards die in their first year. We're ill-trained in comparison to Koretian bladesmen, though fear of imminent death is an effective incentive to improve our skills." He reached under the edge of his tunic, and when his hand came into sight again, he was holding a sliver of metal. "This is one area where you'll need training," he said.
And so he explained to me how to hold a thigh-dagger and how to wield it in combat, and I listened impatiently until he handed me the dagger, and then we had to wait for the armorer to hunt up a bowl of water and strips of cloth, and after Carle had washed and bandaged my hand he told me again how to hold a thigh-dagger, and I managed to do it properly the second time.
The other soldiers were very amused.
The twenty-sixth day of October in the 940th year a.g.l.
This is our last day in Emor. We spent most of today doing tasks for Quentin that were easier accomplished by messenger than by message. Carle went over to the city physicians' house briefly, in order to check on Fowler and to confirm that he will recover within a month's time. At the end of the day – a day when it miraculously did not rain – we sat with our backs against the exterior of the inner palace wall.
From where we sat, we could see the sweep of the army headquarters just below us, nestled at the northern foot of Palace Hill: tents and banners and horses and milling men, squeezed tight together yet spreading, it seemed, halfway to the horizon. It's hard to believe that the headquarters houses only the Home Division and the vanguard, and that the greater part of the Chara's armies is scattered throughout the empire.
I looked over at Carle, but his head was tilted back, and I saw that his gaze was directed further toward the horizon. From where we sat, the line of the horizon was blocked by a series of low mountains – foothills, really – that interrupted the rolling fields of lower Southern Emor. One low mountain stood out from the rest, being slightly forward of the others, and I could see that immediately behind it was another mountain, slightly higher, and still another mountain behind them, though this was almost hidden by the haze at the horizon. The flattened peaks looked like the knobby spine of an animal.
"Those are signal-fire mountains," Carle said, seeing where my gaze was now fixed. "When a fire is lit on one of them, it can be seen on the next mountain in the chain. The signal-fire mountains reach all of the way up to the Central Provinces."
"Why are the fires lit?" I asked. "To warn of war?"
"On rare occasions," said Carle. "Tell me, what do you think it will be like patrolling the mountains when the snows come?"
I was unsettled by the rapid change of subject. A moment later, I was even more unsettled as I began to think my answer through. I've actually seen snow before; in the borderland, it snows occasionally, so I've witnessed the feather-fall of moist flakes from the sky. It always seemed quite peaceful on our side of the mountain.
On the other side, it was different. The mountain winds, howling almost ceaselessly through the mountain passes, whirled a wall of blinding whiteness against any passersby. Father had forbidden Hamar and me from visiting the northern side of our mountain when it snowed, and after one numbing, panic-raising visit, Hamar and I had complied with this order.
Carle had been watching my face carefully. Now he gave a short laugh. "Don't worry, our sacrifices to the Chara aren't that high. So few breachers try to cross the border during the winter that keeping us in the mountains isn't worth the number of patrol guards who would die if we were forced to remain there. The patrol is withdrawn during the snow season. The trouble is in predicting when that season begins."
As he spoke, the light wind continued to buffet our face. Above us, dark clouds rolled in endless waves across the skies. The shadow of one such cloud thundered silently past us, faster than a galloping horse.
I understood then. "So the signal fires are to warn that the snow is coming?"
Carle nodded. "The signal fires are the only messages that can move faster than the storm clouds; even the Chara's messengers aren't that quick. Of course, sometimes the storms halt before reaching the mountains, but Captain Wystan can't take that chance. As soon as he receives word through the signal fires of the storm's approach, he sends a sealed message to Quentin. Sometimes the warning arrives a few days ahead of the storm, and sometimes it arrives only a few hours ahead."
"Why a sealed message?" I asked.
One side of Carle's mouth twisted upward into a wry smile. "Because our lieutenant has the unenviable task of deciding when to withdraw us from the mountains. Late autumn is the time of year when any Koretian who knows what he's doing tries to breach the border, so we stay in the mountains until the final moment possible, in order that we can catch any Koretian making a last-minute trip. When to leave is the lieutenant's decision, and while he has never miscalculated our withdrawal, I don't envy him his job."
I considered this, stretching my legs out onto the damp grass and feeling the shadows of the grey clouds scurry over my body. The stones behind me were grey with old age, but new mortar kept them firmly in place. Everything below us looked newborn: the bright weapons, the attentive guards at the camp's perimeter, the crisp orders being shouted by a subcaptain. Yet all that I saw and heard was a thousand years old.
"Carle, why did you become a mountain patrol guard?" I heard myself ask.
Carle took the wine flask from my hand and sipped from it before saying, "Because of the Law of Vengeance, I suppose."
"The Law of Vengeance?" I felt my heartbeat increase. I've resigned myself to the fact that the law seems to have the same effect on me as a rich meal does on a glutton, or as a beautiful woman does on a lecher. "You mentioned that law once. What is it about?"
After a moment, I turned my head and found that Carle was gazing upon me with the sort of expression I might wear if he had asked me the names of the seven gods and goddesses of Koretia. His voice was matter-of-fact, though, as he said, "The Law of Vengeance concerns the third of the Great Three crimes that can be committed against the Chara – the crimes that the Chara alone may judge. The other two crimes are described in the Law of Grave Iniquity and the Law of Bloodshed. Some day soon I'll recite to you the Justification of the Law of Vengeance; the Justification is the portion of a law that describes why the law exists. That Justification's passage on the burdens of the Chara is one that every schoolboy in Emor is required to learn. Less well known, though, is the sixth division . . ."
"Wait," I said. "You told me yesterday that Emorian laws are divided into five parts."
"All except the Great Three." Carle's gaze was fixed on the nearest of the signal-mountains. He had not raised the wine flask to his lips for several minutes. His voice was soft as he said, "The Great Three are the oldest laws in this land, so they retain a division that all of the older laws must have included at one time: the sacrifice division, allowing any man to offer up his body or life in exchange for that of a condemned prisoner. The chronicles say that this division was treated with great seriousness on the few occasions when it was invoked. Not only was the man punished in the appropriate manner, but he took on all of the guilt and dishonor that rightfully belonged to the prisoner. The prisoner was freed of his pain, his death, and his shame. The other man bore all of this for the prisoner's sake."
The wind continued to buffet us with its hand; the black clouds hovered over us, low and heavy with rain. From the city walls to the mountains lay fields filled with sheep and horses, lazy under the patchy sunlight.
"You said that the division 'was' invoked," I said finally. "It's not used any more? No one today offers up their life that way?"
Carle smiled, saying nothing. Beyond the army camp, beyond the outer palace wall, lay the buildings of the capital city of Emor: law houses, market stalls, community halls, and homes. And beyond our sight, hidden by the palace that threw its shadow over the whole eastern portion of the city, lay the city physicians' house, where a patrol guard lay drugged, suffering from the pain of a blade inflicted by a law-breaking Koretian.
"I see." My voice was low. I was struggling with the knowledge of a burden taken on – the knowledge of how far the Chara's mercy extended, and who took on the weight of seeing that his mercy was carried out. I should have known, I thought, from the moment that Quentin bloodied his hand in his effort to save my life.
We sat a while longer, until it grew too dark to see the clouds hiding the stars above, and then we walked back to Neville's house as the rain began to fall on the green and golden fields.
 
CHAPTER TWELVE
The twenty-seventh day of October in the 940th year a.g.l.
I am now a patrol guard. Oh, I know that I've been a guard since the moment I gave my oath of loyalty, but I didn't really feel it until this morning, when Carle and I arrived back at the patrol hut, and everyone ignored me.
We arrived shortly before dawn, when the day patrol was finishing breaking its fast. One or two of the other guards broke off their conversations to greet Carle, but no one said anything to me. I felt cold all through, wondering whether, in the time I'd been gone, the others had changed their minds about wanting me as a fellow guard. Carle, though, seemed cheerfully unaware of what was happening. He went over to chat with Iain while I spooned bean porridge from the pot and tried to pretend that everything was fine.
The night patrol arrived soon afterwards, all of the guards weary in body and face except for the lieutenant, who always looks quietly alert. None of them greeted me, not even Quentin. Instead, Quentin went over to talk to the day patrol while the rest of the night patrol gathered round Carle and started teasing him about the ladies they suggested he must have spent his time courting during his visit to the city. I was just beginning to wonder whether the porridge had been poisoned, for I felt quite sick to my stomach, when Carle glanced at the violet-pink sky and announced, "Time for work, I would say." Casually, as though he'd done it a thousand times before, he unsheathed his sword and passed its blade over the flames before sheathing it and walking slowly toward the tunnel that leads out of the hollow. He had not looked my way since our arrival back.
The other members of the day patrol did the same, and a couple of the night patrol guards, now gathered around the porridge, glanced their way and said, "Good hunting." Then, as Chatwin finished fire-cleansing his sword of old blood and turned away, a silence fell upon the patrol, and I realized that everyone was looking my way.
Even so, it took me a moment to realize why they were waiting. Then I stumbled hastily to my feet, almost cut my hand in my eagerness to unsheathe my sword, and held my unblooded sword over the flames. When I looked up, the entire patrol was spread in a line, awaiting me.
My face was now burning as hot as the Jackal's fire. I hesitantly stepped forward, and as I passed the first guard in line, Chatwin, he said, "Good hunting, Adrian."
I looked back at him, but before I could think of anything to reply, I had come abreast of Teague of the night patrol, and he was saying, "Good hunting, Adrian." After that, I was too busy trying to walk as quickly as possible down the line to be able to think of what to reply to everyone, aside from embarrassed mumbles.
As I reached the end of the line, Carle clapped me on the back as he said, "Good hunting, Adrian," but I hardly noticed him, for my gaze was upon the lieutenant, who had stepped into my path. He looked down at me for a moment, his expression serious, and then he said quietly, "Good hunting, Soldier. Take care of your partner today."
My chest was squeezed tight. I think that in the next moment I would have burst into tears if Carle hadn't rescued me by beginning to talk loudly about the dilatoriness of young patrol guards. He grabbed me by the scruff of my collar and pushed me forward, while several of the guards behind him chuckled. Then we were through the tunnel, and my first day on active duty had begun.
The twenty-ninth day of October in the 940th year a.g.l.
Eleven hours of climbing mountains is a good cure for sleeplessness. The first evening, I was ready to collapse onto my pallet the moment I arrived back at the patrol hut, but Carle quickly made clear that the time that the patrol guards spend talking together is considered just as much a duty as our patrolling.
I don't mind, especially when we play Law Links, which we do every night. I'm the first guard eliminated each time, of course, but I've already learned a dozen laws that way, and Carle has been tutoring me during the day while we're on patrol.
Even better than Law Links is when the full patrol gathers together at dawn and at dusk. At first, I wondered how many border-breachers must make their way past the patrol during this time, as I had planned to do. I soon realized that Quentin's hearing is so acute that he can even hear border-breachers from the insulated hollow. Twice he has broken the gathering short to send the next patrol out in pursuit.
Most of the time, though, we have a chance to exchange information about what has happened during our patrols, and we younger guards take the opportunity to ply Quentin with questions about our work.
Quentin must have great patience, for some of the questions he answers seem quite foolish. Yesterday, for example, Payne said, "I fear I fail to understand the rule on disarming, lieutenant. Our standing orders are to disarm Emorian border-breachers upon capture, but we are only supposed to disarm Koretian border-breachers if they draw their blades against us. Does that not make it easy for the Koretians to attack us?"