The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) (49 page)

"No, sir," said Carle firmly. "Basil son of Orson."
"Indeed? You are creative in your pursuits. —Innis. Cedron." The lieutenant turned his attention to the guards. "Give these men an honor escort to the council chamber. Stay until they are received by the council. You will forgive me," he added, "if I do not escort you there myself. I have work to do this morning." He fingered his dagger.
Carle cleared his throat. I did not think he did so this time out of acting. "My thanks," he said briefly.
The lieutenant gave him a brief smile. "Perhaps we shall meet again."
"Perhaps not." Carle's voice was expressionless.
The torturer laughed then and waved us past, escorted by the guards. As we left, I looked back and saw that the torturer was watching us, as though memorizing our appearances.
That is how we managed to break into the Chara's palace, the most heavily guarded building in all the world.
The main guard at the door of the council chamber was a subcaptain, but he barely glanced at the letter Carle held up before saying, "I fear that the High Lord's clerk is not available this morning, sublieutenant. He has been called into an early-morning meeting of the council."
"Oh?" replied Carle in so bland a voice that it took all my training not to look sharply at him. "We will wait for him in his office, then."
I held my breath, but the subcaptain, who was standing in front of two copper doors that reached halfway to the sky, merely barked an order at a guard in front of a much smaller door to the left of the council chamber's entrance; this door was so dull-looking in appearance that I had missed seeing it. Our escort guards from the dungeon, relieved of their burden, turned away, and I felt something that had been tight around my throat loosen somewhat.
I took a final glance down the corridor we had been walking. It was filled with people and sunlight, being lit from above by windows high in the wall, next to the arched ceiling. Nobody seemed to be taking notice of us. Why should they, when this corridor was filled with high-ranked army officials? It was a mercy that we hadn't stepped into the path of Captain Radley.
The corridor made the palace look like an extension of the army camp. I wondered where the civilian palace officials dwelled.
I discovered the answer in the next moment, as Carle and I entered the narrow passage running alongside the council chamber. We had to squeeze our way past a man carrying a large stack of books, another man carrying a map so large that it threatened to drown us, a third man juggling various papers in his hands as though deciding which ones to drop, and a large group of boys, all with ink-stained hands, standing in a group and discussing loudly the probable reasons for today's council chamber meeting.
I wonder how the Great Council managed to think amidst all this chaos. Then I realized that the passage did not run immediately next to the chamber; a set of rooms separated the corridor from the chamber. I caught a glimpse of one such room as someone slipped through its doorway: it was filled with men sitting at desks, making calculations with abacuses and occasionally jotting down the results on slates or paper. None of the men spoke a word as they worked.
"Carle," I whispered, "how are we going to find the clerk's office?"
Carle looked at me the same way he had the first time he tried to teach me to memorize the complex clauses of the Law of Grave Iniquity. "The clerk's office? Don't be silly. That will soon be filled with those chattering boys we just passed. Undergoing an inquisition by a trained torturer is easy in comparison to being quizzed by a room full of boys. They'd have our names, ranks, and lineages within half a minute. —Ah, here we are."
Without pausing, he swept open a door that was ajar. I stepped in and found myself in a cubbyhole of a chamber, barely large enough to accommodate a desk and chair that were set against the far wall. Light poured in from the skylight above, onto a stack of books on the desk. An inkwell, papers, and pen stood ready at hand. I went over to inspect them.
"These have recently been used," I reported as Carle closed the door to the corridor. "The ink is barely dry."
"If its owner returns, we can easily explain our presence," Carle said serenely. "This is one of several study chambers, used by any palace official or guest who visits the council for research purposes. We, of course, are here to research the origins of the border mountain patrol, and we were accidentally assigned the wrong room." He was busy moving back the chair to the middle of the chamber. I saw him inspect the corridor door as he did so, obviously wondering whether he could block the entrance, but the door was so old-fashioned that it had a hinged panel toward the top. The panel had no latch we could tie closed, and it was too high up to block with the chair, so there was no point in trying to block the rest of the door.
As I came forward to help Carle move the desk, I said, "You do the best pre-mission scouting of anyone I know."
Carle flashed me a smile. "Pre-mission scouting of the Chara's palace? Don't be ridiculous. The army officials and palace officials are as closed-mouthed as a Koretian god about the layout of the palace. They wouldn't have told me anything about this place."
"But then . . ."
"I had Myles write to Neville and ask. Myles told Neville that he was planning a visit to the Great Council – he was vague about when. There are advantages to having a baron's heir as one's childhood friend. Myles says that he hopes you have a very exciting birthday, and that if you're caught and flogged, he'll never forgive me."
Evidently, Carle had not revealed to Myles that his own punishment if we were caught was likely to be far worse. I opened my mouth to voice my misgivings, and then closed it again as Carle stepped toward to what had been half-hidden behind the desk we had just moved: a door.
He opened it a crack. Light laughter entered the room like a scented breeze. The laughter subsided quickly, and I heard a man speak, authority cloaking his tone. I could not quite catch the words that he spoke.
Carle was peering through the crack in the doorway with as much concentration as though he had just sighted the Jackal. I silently made my way up to him and tapped his arm to remind him that I still existed.
He took his gaze away from the scene long enough to whisper in my ear: "They're all there. All thirty council members. The High Lord is closest to us, at the head of the table. He's the one speaking." He peered at the scene again, widening the door's gap so that he could look further down the chamber. I saw the moment when the blood drained from his face.
"The Chara?" It took all my effort to speak the words.
Carle nodded but did not move. I remembered my wine oath and did not draw my dagger to force him out of the way.
Perhaps he remembered his own oath, for after a moment, he shook his head, like a man who has been stunned and is returning to his senses. "You watch now," he whispered to me. "The Chara is at the far end of the table, next to the lowest-ranking lords. He looks quite ordinary in appearance; I wouldn't have recognized him if I hadn't given my oath to him when I became a patrol guard." He stepped back, and I began to step forward, my heart beating a rhythm through my entire body.
Then Carle abruptly shut the door. Before I could scream in anguish, I heard Carle say, in a voice of forced cheerfulness, "Well, fancy meeting you here."
I turned to look. Neville stood in the doorway to the passage.
I could have cursed myself then – cursed myself and Carle too, for not thinking of this possibility. "This is one of several study chambers, used by any palace official or guest who visits the council for research purposes," Carle had said. Any palace official – such as Neville, of course. Neville had told Myles about the chamber he himself worked in when he visited the council.
For a moment, Neville merely stared at us. He was holding a book, the book he had no doubt gone to fetch for his work. He looked very much like the summoners' clerk that he was. Then his face cleared. He stepped inside, closed the doors, and said sharply, "What are you doing here?"
"Spying," Carle replied blandly.
Neville responded by groaning. "You fools. Don't you two know that it's a death offense for men such as yourselves to enter the palace? Even if you were still an army official, Carle, it would death for you to persuade Adrian to enter here, since he was under your care."
Carle said nothing. I could not say what he was thinking. Myself, I was wondering whether the dark torturer we had met in the dungeon below the palace would be brought into such matters.
Neville groaned again and laid his book down. "Fools," he repeated. "How did you sneak in here, anyway?"
"Through the dungeon," Carle replied. "It is a weak point in the palace's defense. You should alert the captain of the palace guard to that fact."
"I should— For love of the Chara, will you listen to yourself? Your trial will be all the alert that the palace guard needs. And once you made your way through the dungeon, how did you find this place?"
This time Carle kept quiet. After a minute, Neville's mouth twisted. "I see. So I'm as much a fool as you are. I should have remembered your Peaktop connections. Did Myles know that you—? No, never mind." He waved away the question. "You have to get out of here quickly – and it won't be through the dungeon. It's not as easy to leave there as it is to enter." He sighed heavily. "I'll have to try to smuggle you out through the east entrance, I suppose. If you walk behind me, the guards may assume that you're my guests."
"That is kind of you." Carle's voice was grave. "And it is generous of you to be speaking to us."
For the first time, Neville hesitated. His eyes slid away, and he cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Whatever you've done in the past, you don't deserve to receive a Slave's Death for a mere prank – and since the world hasn't ended, I'll assume that you have not sold your loyalty to one of Emor's enemies. Therefore, this must be a prank." His voice was firm, but his gaze flicked toward Carle as he spoke.
"It is Adrian's birthday," Carle explained. "I wanted him to have a chance to see the Great Council."
"Ah." Neville's voice lost its harshness. "That I can believe. Unfortunately, there's no provision in the Chara's law to allow for breaking into the palace for the sake of granting a birthday wish. We had better get both of you out now."
Carle cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he said, "it would be best if you helped us leave one at a time. We'd be less conspicuous that way."
Let it be recorded here: Carle is the most manipulative spy that the Chara has ever possessed the good fortune to have working under him. Five minutes later, I was alone in the chamber.
I waited until I was sure that Neville wouldn't nip back to retrieve his book, and then I cautiously opened the door.
The Council Chamber was a vast room, bigger than any I had ever seen in my life. Much of my village could have been housed in it. Like the side chambers and the corridor, it was lit by a skylight. Now that the sun was well above the horizon, the blue sky shone over the chamber, with a patch of sunlight falling upon the head of the table, where a book lay open.
The chamber was empty.
Slowly, as though drawn by an invisible chain, I walked over to the head of the table and looked down at the volume lying open there. My hand reached out to touch the neatly scribed words:
 

For though the Chara is the Embodiment of the Law, he is also a man, and unless there is a private man willing to undertake the burdens of becoming High Judge, there can be no High Judgment in this land. And if there is no High Judgment, this land ceases to exist, for its peace is the peace of the Lawmaker and the laws which he gave to the Emorian people. It is the Chara's duty to proclaim those laws, and it is his foremost duty to place thoughts of others before his own needs. Yet, lest his duties become so burdensome that he be broken in spirit and body—

"I hope, young man, that you are not a spy."
I flinched back, not only out of guilt at being noticed, but also out of an awareness that if I allowed myself to be caught this easily while in Koretia, I wouldn't live long.
The man beside me looked to be between fifty and sixty years of age; he was dressed in a gold-edged tunic and had a finely gilded sword clipped to his belt, but it wasn't clear whether he was a lord or a town baron. He was smiling, but there was a stern undertone to his words that told me he wasn't joking.
"A spy, sir?" I tried to sound as though such an ambition had never occurred to me.
The man pointed wordlessly to the table. Only then did I notice the pen, inkwell, and wax box sitting next to the paper scribbled with words.
Innocence and fear caused me to stammer, "I didn't see— That is, I didn't notice the paper, sir. It was the book – I've never read a law book before. I wanted to know what the laws look like when they are scribed on paper."
"I see." The man's voice relaxed. "Well, that is just as well. You are better occupied in reading the law than in reading my poor interpretation of what it means."
I stared at him with helpless awe for a moment; then I remembered to bow.
"A lover of the law, are you?" he said.
"I try to be, High Lord." I felt myself growing warm with embarrassment.
The High Lord reached over and closed the book to reveal the title stamped on the spine. "This is the volume dedicated to the Great Three. Have you heard of the Great Three?"
My mind was still so much on the volume that I promptly picked up where I had left off reading and said, "'Yet, lest his duties become so burdensome that he be broken in spirit and body, the people must be willing to respect the manhood of the Chara and take on whatever burdens they can for his sake. For the Law is like a golden chain which binds all people together, freeing each man through this binding to pursue his individual duties and joys. Each link of the chain is of equal worth, and the failure of a single man to follow his duty can cause the chain to break and the land to fall into war and chaos. Yet by the same token, any man who goes beyond the normal bounds of his duty and undertakes extra suffering for the sake of the Law can relink the broken chain and bring peace once more. Though no one but the Lawgiver may know of his sacrifice—'"
I stopped in confusion, realizing that I had been reciting for far too long and that the High Lord had no intention of interrupting me. His smile deepened as he said, "Not many men can recite by heart the Justification to the Law of Vengeance. What caused you to memorize that section?"