The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) (25 page)

This tarnished my inward triumph only slightly. Even if I'd been wrong, Carle had told me long ago that it was better for a patrol guard to be too zealous in his duty than to allow a genuine breacher past the border. I'd still saved the patrol from what might have been a perilous pursuit.
The sun had dipped behind the mountains; the birds were beginning to quiet in the scrubby vegetation that clings to the rocks, and the winds had gone still, as they sometimes do for several days on end. Carle, having apologized to the prisoner and released him, sent out the signal of the withdrawal of the day patrol from duty, though he usually waits for Quentin's signal that the night patrol is ready. Then, without looking my way, he began to walk back to the patrol hut.
I tried to talk more with him on the way about what had happened, but he didn't respond to my remarks. Behind me, the other patrol guards were speaking in low voices, the way they always do when the wind is so soft that their remarks might be heard by coming breachers. After several attempts to break past Carle's barrier of silence, I withdrew from his side, puzzled and hurt. Could it be, I wondered with horror, that Carle was actually jealous of me? Did he envy me so much for my daring capture – which surely no other patrol guard had achieved during his first hunt – that he would allow his feelings to poison our friendship?
I struggled with this unpleasant thought after reaching the patrol hut, and so I was not as aware as I might otherwise have been of the conversations taking place between the day and night patrols; nor did I pay much attention to Carle as he took Quentin aside and spoke privately with him.
My first warning of my change in fortune came when Quentin whistled the call for assembly.
It took me a moment to recognize the whistle; I had not yet heard it used, except in practice. Then I joined the other patrol guards lining up against the outside wall of the hut. The balefire flickered upon us, showering warmth and light. Just beyond the flames, several paces ahead of the other guards, Carle was standing so that he could see both the patrol and their lieutenant.
All of us stood at alert, our arms stiff, our eyes straight ahead, though I could not prevent myself from watching Quentin out of the corner of my eye as he slowly walked down the line, inspecting each man. When he reached me, he said in a colorless voice, "Soldier Adrian – step out of line, please."
I did so; my face was burning. This I had not anticipated. I tried to tell myself that this was no doubt part of the normal initiation into the patrol. Probably I would only be honored for my first successful participation in a hunt. I couldn't help wondering, though, whether my bold capture of the Emorian was substantive enough to earn me an honor brooch.
"Soldier Adrian," said Quentin softly. "I am told that you disobeyed Sublieutenant Carle's order and took part in a hunt. Is this true?"
I stared amazed at Quentin, then looked down the line at Carle, whose gaze was fixed straight ahead of himself. I said, "But I—"
"Soldier." At Quentin's voice, much softer than before, I turned my eyes back to him, then felt my stomach lurch from the look in his eyes. His face was only inches away from mine. "I asked you a question. Did you disobey Sublieutenant Carle's order?"
I swallowed in an attempt to moisten my dry mouth. "Yes, sir, I did."
The low wind brushed the balefire, sending sparks into the air. Next to me, I could not hear so much as a drawn breath from any of the other guards. Quentin took a step back, contemplated me for a moment as though I were a bound breacher, and finally said, "Very well. Report."
I did so, stumbling this time, and leaving out the words of exaltation and victory that I had spoken to Carle. When I was finished, Quentin stared at me coolly as my heart thumped louder than the growl of the fire eating the wood. Then the lieutenant said, "The fault is mine."
My heart thumped again, this time in astonishment. "Sir?"
"I should have taken you aside to give you special training in this matter. This is the first time that the patrol has ever had a Koretian-born guard, but I ought to have realized that this trouble would arise."
Not since my entrance into the patrol had Quentin made mention of my native origins in order to criticize me. I felt my face burn once more as I said, "Sir, if I lack skills because I'm Koretian—"
Quentin shook his head. "Not skills, understanding. Soldier, why did you disobey orders?"
I phrased my reply carefully. "Sir, I see that I was wrong in what I did, but at the time I thought I was saving the patrol from a difficult hunt."
"You say that you see you were wrong. In what way?"
I realized that I would not be spared the ordeal of a questioning. Something touched me then – my Koretian stubbornness, perhaps – and I said, "I don't know, lieutenant. I tried to save the other guards from possible danger. Why was it wrong for me to do that?"
Quentin's eyes flicked away from me toward Carle. A look passed between them, long and grave; then Quentin stepped back from me and addressed the line of silent patrol guards. "Soldier Gamaliel, step forward."
I turned my head to look as Gamaliel stiffly took a pace forward. He is the oldest patrol guard, older even than Quentin; he is only a few years younger than Fenton was when he died. As the light chiselled deeper the lines of somberness in Gamaliel's face, Quentin said, "Soldier Gamaliel, please recount for the benefit of Soldier Adrian the events leading up to Sublieutenant Shepley's dismissal from the patrol."
I heard a faint rustling behind me, as though several of the guards had shifted in their places. Gamaliel's chin rose as he said rigidly, "Yes, sir. Two springs ago, Sublieutenant Shepley was on duty, close to the patrol hut, with his partner, Soldier Byrd. Both soldiers sighted a man wearing the clothes of a barbarian mainlander. The mainlander saw them at the same moment and drew his sword. Soldier Byrd promptly issued the Probable Danger signal.
"Before the full patrol had time to respond to the signal, sir, Sublieutenant Shepley, jealous of your title—"
"Reword yourself, soldier." Quentin's voice was sharp.
"My apologies, sir." Gamaliel was silent a moment, then started again. "Sublieutenant Shepley, desiring glory for himself, immediately drew his sword and ran forward to capture the barbarian. Soldier Byrd had no choice but to follow. Just as Sublieutenant Shepley was on the point of reaching the barbarian, though, his foot slipped on some loose pebbles, and he fell to the ground, striking himself unconscious in the process.
"Soldier Byrd, seeing his partner in danger, responded by attacking the barbarian. Because he had only recently joined the patrol, Soldier Byrd's sword skills were not sufficient to allow him to defeat the barbarian unaided. The barbarian wounded him severely."
Gamaliel paused. The sun had set completely by now; cloakless, I was shivering in the evening wind, warmed only by the patrol fire flickering its glow upon us. Carle stood nearly outside the circle of warmth; only his face was alit.
"At that point, sir, you and your patrolling partner, Soldier Carle, reached the scene," Gamaliel continued. "As Soldier Carle is—" He stopped, his gaze sliding sideways over to me, then said, "As Soldier Carle was the best swordsman in the patrol, you ordered him to keep the barbarian occupied while you carried Soldier Byrd and Sublieutenant Shepley to safety.
"Unfortunately, the barbarian was well skilled with his blade. Although Soldier Carle was able to defend himself for a short while, the barbarian soon broke past his defenses and disarmed him. At that point, Soldier Neville and I had just come within sight, but we and the other guards were too far away to assist. You, sir, had returned from carrying Soldier Byrd to a secure distance and was just picking up Sublieutenant Shepley. In order to give you and Sublieutenant Shepley time to reach safety, Soldier Carle, now naked of blade, flung himself upon the barbarian."
My gaze jerked over to Carle. He was continuing to stand motionless, staring at emptiness; the copper brooch at his neck twinkled in the light. I let out my breath slowly.
"Fortunately, the barbarian was so startled by this action that he stumbled and fell beneath the weight of Soldier Carle," Gamaliel said. "Soldier Carle was able to prevent him from using his sword for the time it took the other guards to reach the scene. The barbarian was then captured by the remainder of the patrol."
"And the aftermath of this hunt?" Quentin hadn't looked at me since the report began; his gaze was fixed upon Gamaliel.
"The barbarian was placed on trial and was discovered to be a legitimate border-crosser who had not realized that the men attacking him were the Chara's patrol guards. He was granted mercy for his crime and was released to continue on his way. Soldier Carle was awarded the subcommander's copper honor brooch for his courage, and he rose to the sublieutenancy of the patrol. Soldier Byrd died of his wound, but in his dying hours, he gave witness to Sublieutenant Shepley's actions. Sublieutenant Shepley—"
"That is enough." Quentin's soft voice cut off Gamaliel, who promptly stepped back into line; the lieutenant's gaze had already returned to me. "Do you understand now, soldier?" he asked quietly.
I found it harder to swallow this time; there was an obstruction in my throat. "Yes, sir. By disobeying orders, Sublieutenant Shepley brought danger upon his fellow patrol guards." I nearly continued, then thought better of it and fell silent.
Quentin, though, had been running his dark gaze over my face. He said, "You have more comments?"
I took a deep breath; the chill of the mountain air bit at my lungs. "Only a question, sir. Sublieutenant Shepley disobeyed orders – but didn't Soldier Carle disobey orders as well? Aren't we under standing orders to retreat if we're disarmed?"
The wind, whooshing down the sides of the mountains enclosing us, stirred Carle's hair; otherwise, his body and eyes remained motionless. Quentin, who was now running his fingers over his sword hilt, kept his gaze fixed upon me until I felt my knees beginning to melt. Then he said, "Yes, Soldier Carle disobeyed orders, in the most blatant manner possible. When, Soldier Adrian, you understand the difference between what he did and what you did, you too may disobey orders. Until then, your judgment is not sufficiently mature to allow for that."
I said nothing. The wind whistled around the hollow. Somewhere in the distance, a bird of prey screamed.
The lieutenant stepped back. "The mistake was mine, as much as yours. I should have taken your background into account. We will let the matter rest there."
"Sir—" I stopped, biting my lip, until Quentin gave an impatient gesture. Then I said, "Sir, I'm an Emorian now, and I should be held to Emorian law and custom as much as any other Emorian. I would rather that you dealt with me the same as you would any other soldier in this unit."
I couldn't tell, from Quentin's expression, whether I had said the right thing. After a minute, though, he replied, "Very well. As it happens, we have a special discipline for this type of episode – a test that should teach you not to make this mistake again." And then, as I let my breath out in a sigh, he added, "If you survive."
The eleventh day of November in the 940th year a.g.l.
Carle took me into the mountains today for my test. He was very cheerful.
"Have you seen the seal yet?" he asked, after we'd walked for about an hour.
"What seal?" I asked as I stubbed my toe and stumbled.
"Watch out here; this path is rocky," Carle reported belatedly. "The Chara's seal. It's plastered everywhere in the palace, but since we didn't go inside the palace— No, wait, move a bit to the right. You're about to fall into a fissure."
I hurriedly crowded up against Carle's body. My eyes were bound; I had long since lost all sense of which direction we were going in. All I knew was that we must be far away from the pass, for I could no longer hear the whistles of the patrol.
Our journey was like an eerie replay of my first arrival at the patrol hut, but this time my hands were unbound, and I could even have dispensed with the aid of a cloth over my eyes, if I'd been sure I could keep my eyes closed. Not wanting to take any chances, I had requested to have my eyes bound.
Other than that, I was dressed as I ordinarily would have been for a day's patrol: I wore my army tunic, my thigh-pocket with its hidden dagger, my boots, my sword, and my back-sling, which held my water-flask, binding rope, and noonday meal. Also my journal and pencil, which I had received permission from Quentin to bring with me. "Recording your thoughts may be of use to you in seeing your way clear to the solution," he said, when speaking of my test.
Now Carle said, "Vengeance, mercy, judgment."
"What?" I swung my face toward him, as though I could see him.
"Those are the attributes of the Chara, and those are what are depicted on his seal. The Sword of Vengeance. The Heart of Mercy – that's shown as a wounded bird. And the Balance of Judgment."
I hesitated a moment before replying, then decided that I really did not want to tell Carle that vengeance, mercy, and judgment were the three attributes of the Jackal as well. "The Balance of Judgment holds the bird and the sword in its scales?"
"Precisely." Carle sounded pleased at my reply. "But judgment is a much greater matter than that. Take the Court of Judgment, where the Chara hears his cases. First of all, it's unlikely that the man the Chara is trying is being tried for the first time. More likely, the man has been judged by the lesser courts, the case working itself up the ladder of the courts as it becomes clear that the case offers some problem that the lesser courts haven't dealt with before. By the time the case reaches the Chara, he not only has the prisoner's witness to consider; he also has the judgments of the previous judges. And beyond that there will be witnesses – many witnesses in an important case. The Chara can't make a judgment on his own. He depends heavily on what is stated and judged by other men."
"I see." My mind was less on Carle's words than on the rocky ground that would have caused me to fall to the ground if Carle hadn't been gripping my arm. "So you couldn't just have a case where the Chara was alone with the prisoner—"
"Oh, that type of case happens occasionally. 'Private judgment,' it's called, and the Chara is the only judge in the land who is permitted to make private judgment, because of his high office. Even then, he'll invariably be drawing upon the written witness of men not present. . . . Here we are."