The Three Lands Omnibus Part 12

I considered this, stretching my legs out onto the damp gra.s.s 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 G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses 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 a 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 pa.s.sage 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 a 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 embarra.s.sed 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?"

His gaze flicked over toward me as he spoke, and I could see the other guards eyeing me as well. There were five of us sitting around Quentin: me, Payne, Chatwin, Teague, and Devin. The other guards were gathered on the opposite side of the fire, quizzing Carle about the details of a new court case that Neville had told us about.

Quentin didn't look my way, but as he reached over to his side to pick up his water flask, he said, "Soldier Adrian, I know that it will be difficult for you to discard momentarily your Emorian way of thinking, but I would appreciate it if you would cast your mind back to the days when you were a Koretian and explain to Payne what you would have done if I had tried to disarm you before you had drawn your blade against me."

"I would have killed you." The answer was so obvious that I didn't pause to think, but a moment later, I felt my spirit jerk as though it had been torn in two, for it suddenly occurred to me that there was something odd about what I had said.

I did not have time to a.n.a.lyze the matter, for Quentin had turned his attention back to Payne. "In Koretia, Payne, the symbol of manhood is a blade. No Koretian man will disarm himself except for the gravest of reasons, and any man who tries to disarm a Koretian who has not threatened him will find his life in danger."

Payne's expression had been tightening during Quentin's speech. Now he burst out, "But that is barbaric! How can they be so childish?"

Quentin lifted one eyebrow, then glanced over at me, sitting with fists clenched, trying to keep control of myself. "Adrian, please tell Payne a pa.s.sing your mind back to your Koretian past, of course a what you thought the first time you saw an unarmed Emorian man."

I was uneasily aware that I did not have to return as far as all that to find the answer to Quentin's question, but I obediently replied, "I thought he looked like a child."

Too late, I realized that Payne had put aside his sword. Fortunately, Payne's expression was so comical that the other young guards burst into laughter, and after a moment, Payne gave a weak smile.

"If Adrian could find room in his spirit to appreciate your manly qualities, despite your obvious deficiencies," Quentin said, rising to his feet, "I imagine that you can learn to appreciate the barbaric Koretians... . Sublieutenant, two men are approaching from the north." He said this quietly to Carle, who immediately abandoned his food and rose to his feet. I was at his side within a few seconds, and when the day patrol left moments later, I heard Payne say, "Good hunting, Adrian," although I had not had time to flame my blade.

The fifth day of November in the 940th year a.g.l.

Since arriving back in the mountains, I've continued to accompany Carle on patrols, though he has not yet allowed me to partic.i.p.ate in a hunt; I'm supposed to watch from a distance and learn how hunts are conducted. Much of our work, I've discovered, consists of stopping legitimate border-crossers and asking for their credentials. We usually hunt at least one border-breacher a day, and sometimes several. If the hunted doesn't resist capture, we interrogate our prisoner on the spot and either send him back the way that he came, or a in the rare cases where the breacher has a legitimate reason for crossing the border a we allow him past us.

I was surprised, though, to learn that border-breachers who draw their blades are all treated in exactly the same manner as I was: they are hand-bound and eye-bound, roughly led to the patrol hut, and questioned in a harsh manner before being placed on trial for their crimes. I asked Carle about this, and he said that fear was the patrol's secret weapon.

"It's our only weapon in most cases," he said, speaking to me in a low voice because we were standing on a mountain overlooking the pa.s.s. "If the breacher doesn't attack us, and if he isn't a lawbreaker such as an escaped slave, then we can't punish the prisoner in any way. We simply scare him in hopes that he won't try to breach the border again. If the breacher is violent, we try to give him the impression that his life is forfeit in our hands, though in most cases the lieutenant only condemns the prisoner to a beating."

"So my trial was a sham," I said unhappily.

"No Emorian trial that I've ever attended has been a sham. You were in real danger of being executed at the start, and we were really angry at you for what you had done a but even if we hadn't been, we would have acted as though we were." Carle's head turned slowly as he surveyed the landscape below us. "The only way in which your trial was different from the others is that it was more formal, because part of your defense was that you had escaped to Emor to learn about the law. So the lieutenant was judging you partly on the basis of how you acted during your trial."

I discovered today that Carle was right when he said that most patrol trials are less formal. Our prisoner was a Koretian who held to my theory that it's better to find the patrol guards before they find you a only in his case, his motive for finding us was to cut our throats. This type of episode happens every few weeks, Carle a.s.sured me with a grin, and is the reason why patrol guards are trained to be the hunted as well as the hunters. It's also the reason why we patrol in pairs, and in fact it was Payne's patrolling partner, Gamaliel, who saved him from death and sent out the Immediate Danger whistle.

I had thought that I knew about moving fast before then, but I found that the implications of the danger whistles had been so firmly planted in my mind that I was beyond the doorway of the patrol hut before I even realized that I had awoken from sleep. We captured the hunted alive, brought him back to the hut, and then, with only a short preliminary of questioning, placed him on trial for attempted murder. This time there was no court summoner or herald or clerk, and the prisoner rejected the use of a guide. Only the lieutenant acted the same, wearing his gold chain and sitting in judgment with cold formality.

The prisoner's defense a such as it was a was that he wished he'd murdered the lot of us. Quentin's patient questioning failed to elicit any stronger defense. So, in the end, Quentin p.r.o.nounced the sentence of death that could have been mine.

I don't know what I expected to happen after that a some sort of small ceremony, I suppose, before the prisoner was discreetly taken outside and executed. So I barely took in what actually did happen: Quentin asked the prisoner whether he wished to appeal the judgment and sentence, waited only the mote of time necessary to receive a negative answer, then pulled out his thigh-dagger, stepped over to where the prisoner was being held by Carle and me, and plunged his blade into the man's heart.

The Koretian wasn't expecting this either; he died with a look of surprise on his face. After I had managed to still my queasy stomach, I asked Carle about what had happened. He told me that Quentin was following Emorian law, which states that a prisoner must be brought to trial as soon as possible, and that his punishment must take place immediately after the trial.

"We Emorians think that the cruelest punishment of all is fear," said Carle. "We try to spare condemned prisoners that much at least."

Thinking about the fear that held Mountside in its frosty grip in the days before I left, I decided that Carle was right.

The sixth day of November in the 940th year a.g.l.

I'm beginning to realize how hard it is to think like an Emorian.

This morning, as we were waiting for the night patrol to arrive back from duty, I was taking my turn at tending the stew. The food in the patrol surprises me; from the stories I'd heard of army life, I'd expected a steady diet of blackroot nuts. The patrol, though, gets its food and other supplies from the merchants that pa.s.s over the border every few days, so we're much better fed than other soldiers a we dine as well as n.o.bles, even eating meat. I've almost reached the point where I expect to be introduced to such delicacies as Daxion nuts.

I was saying as much to Carle and joking with him in our usual manner, when I realized that the other members of the day patrol were giving me dark looks. This puzzled me, as I couldn't think of anything I'd done to earn the other guards' wrath.

"Soldier," said Carle sharply, all of a moment, "I wish to speak privately with you."

I looked around to see whom Carle was addressing, and then realized with chagrin that I was the one he was glaring at.

He took me as far as the fall, where we could not be heard. I realize I must take a detour in my narrative here, because I haven't explained fully about the waterfall. It tumbles down the mountainside from one of the high peaks, where the snow lies year-round. From the fall we gain our drinking water and bathing water, and our latrine is located in the area where the water rushes underground.

Using the latrine at night is a chilling experience. Even more chilling is bathing under the fall; I always take care to do so when the sun is up. All of the guards do except Carle, who sneaks out to bathe when the rest of us are asleep. He receives a great deal of teasing for his bodily modesty.

Speaking low under the soft roar of the fall, Carle said, "Adrian, didn't anything Neville said to you penetrate your spirit? You mustn't call me by my name alone in front of the others."

I stared at him uncomprehending for a moment; then I felt the chill of the waterfall's flicking bite against my skin fade away as heat rushed across my face. I said stiffly, "I am sorry, sir. I thought ... If I had realized ... Sublieutenant, when may I address you by your name? You will always be above my rank, so will I ever be able again to ... I mean, I thought the wine ..." I fumbled for words, struggling to keep control of my voice.

Carle sighed and turned me away so that my back was to the other guards, who were watching us out of the corners of their eyes. "Strictly speaking, not until one of us retires," he said. "Army rank isn't carried over to civilian life, so we'd be free to address each other as equals then. But in reality ... Curse you, Adrian; I suppose Emorian life isn't as orderly as I sometimes pretend it is. When I first joined the patrol, I tried to adhere to the rules of rank at all times; I was determined to be a good soldier. The lieutenant, though, soon cured me of my naivete. He pointed out the folly of the two of us always addressing each other formally when we had to patrol together for eleven hours a day, every day of the week, for eight months straight. So now the rule I follow is to address my fellow guards in accordance with their rank, but only when we're in active pursuit, or when orders are being given and received, or when we're in the presence of others. But for love of the Chara, Adrian, I expect you to follow that rule as though your life depended upon it! Do you know what it looks like for you to call me by my name when the others cannot?"

I hadn't, but I understood well enough when I arrived back at the balefire, where the others were waiting in watchful silence. Still burning from my unofficial reprimand, I poured out soup for Carle and handed it to him, taking care to address him by his t.i.tle a and immediately grins spread from one guard to the next, like a peace oath travelling swiftly from one town to the next. Not long afterwards, Iain put his arm around my shoulders and offered to tend the soup in my place.

Every time I stumble in my understanding of the law, I grow weak with fear of what I might do next. How far will go in breaking Emorian rules before I enter into serious trouble?

The tenth day of November in the 940th year a.g.l.

Now I know.

As I mentioned before, I haven't yet taken part in a hunt. This can be frustrating, for I must watch the pursuit from afar and gain what knowledge I can from the tiny figures I see. By last week, I was already growing eager to put my knowledge to the test, but Carle, after reciting the names of all the patrol guards over the centuries who had died during their first hunt, put my request aside.

Today, as the sun was setting in the sky, Carle went a few paces ahead to speak with Hoel and Chatwin. Rounding the side of a mountain, I discovered a border-breacher making water against the rock.

That he was a breacher I had no doubt; he was wearing an Emorian dagger and was well past the point where we would have sighted him if he'd been travelling from Emor in the normal manner. I concluded that he must have travelled through the nearby mountains, somehow retaining his orientation, and that he now believed himself to have journeyed beyond our patrolling ground.

He very nearly had; if he went any further, a pursuit by the patrol would be hard, as we were less familiar with the mountain areas to the south of our patrolling ground. With no thought, only instinct, I quietly drew my sword, crept up behind the breacher, and placed my sword-tip against his spine.

He yelped but did not move his hand toward his dagger. I had doubted he would; I had already learned that most Emorian border-breachers are defiant only up until the moment of capture, whereupon they surrender quietly. And so, feeling the same triumph that a bridegroom might feel after taking his bride's maidenhood, I sent out the End of Hunt whistle.

Carle reached me within seconds. Hoel and Chatwin were not far behind, and I relished the look of Iain and Jephthah as they arrived two minutes later and saw who the captor was in this hunt. Carle waited long enough to be sure that the prisoner would not resist; then he pulled me aside. "What happened?" he asked. "Did he attack you?"

With eager joy, I explained how I had saved the patrol from a difficult hunt. Carle said nothing. Though Iain was leading the interrogation of the prisoner, I could see that he and the others were eavesdropping on what I said. When I had finished, Carle said only, "Let's deal with the prisoner first."

I was disappointed, but I told myself not to be foolish. Carle's matter-of-fact acceptance of my ability to capture a breacher single-handedly was a greater compliment to me than if he had shown amazement at my accomplishment. So I followed him over to where the prisoner stood, babbling forth his story.

As it turned out, I was wrong; the Emorian had not been leaving Emor but returning to it, and he had been armed only because he had been travelling amongst the dagger-wielding barbarians of Koretia. In fact, he had travelled from Emor to Koretia while Carle and I were at the army camp, and he was known by the rest of the day patrol to be a legitimate border-crosser.

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 a which surely no other patrol guard had achieved during his first hunt a 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 a.s.sembly.

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 a step out of line, please."

I did so; my face was burning. This I had not antic.i.p.ated. 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 partic.i.p.ation 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 a my Koretian stubbornness, perhaps a 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?"