They stopped at what seemed a respectful—or cautious—distance. They searched the area for some reassuring sign, Telai half expecting a mysterious figure to appear between the massive trunks or hail them from far above.
She shrieked, then stifled it at once. Tenlar spun around.
The tree was gone. In its place, calm as a mountain in sunshine, stood a man. He was completely bald, smiling warmly from a round face full of wrinkles. Though he was dressed in a dark, long-sleeved shirt and heavy trousers, he wore no coat or warm covering of any kind. Telai assumed he was the embodiment of the strange wraith they had seen in Gebi, but his true form shocked her; she had, unknowingly, expected someone more serene and grave. This man’s appearance bordered on comical.
“Welcome,” he said, and bowed. After a brief hesitation Telai and Tenlar copied the gesture, speechless. “I wish I could have given you clearer instructions,” he continued, “but the risks were too great.”
“Are you Ksoreda?” asked Tenlar.
“I am—and in the flesh this time. Though I don’t think I asked for your names before.”
Tenlar made the introductions, then quickly scanned the clearing again. “I thought we’d find a fortress of some kind—at least according to legend.”
“Your legends aren’t too far off, actually. You’ll see.”
“I also seem to remember you saying that you’re not permitted on our world in bodily form,” Telai asked.
The old man frowned a little. “I’m not sure you’ll understand this, or even if I should tell you, but—this place—indeed, this entire forest—is not part of your world.”
His statement so befuddled her that she hardly realized he had taken a few steps toward the north side of the clearing. “If you please,” he said, one arm raised for them to follow. “My servant will tend to your animals.”
They hesitated at first, then followed their host through the snow. As they drew near to one particular tree the faint outline of a door appeared, a wide half circle set in the thick bark between two giant roots, invisible from any kind of distance. Ksoreda gave it a gentle shove, and it opened, but not in a way they expected; it faded away like fog, revealing a dimly-lit interior beyond.
They stepped cautiously into a small chamber pungent with a resinous odor. The door reappeared, shutting off the pale glimmer of snow. A soft, pearly light took its place. A lush carpet of velvety moss grew over the floor, continuing up a staircase that wound like a corkscrew into the tree; Telai longed to kick off her boots and wiggle her toes in it.
“It’s warm in here,” she whispered to Tenlar as they followed their host up the stairs. She wondered how the place was heated; it seemed reckless to light a fire inside a tree. She glanced left and right at the coarsely-grained walls. “Does this tree possess life in the same manner as the others?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since we passed Gur’alyreiv I’ve felt something strange inhabiting this forest. And that tree on Graxmoar—that was Heradnora’s spirit, wasn’t it?”
He stopped and faced her. “How can you possibly know that?”
“A vision I had last night.”
“But your gift of clairvoyance—you were the first to hear my thoughts. Surely you’ve experienced this sort of thing before.”
She trembled as the vision of blood-flattened grass flashed in her mind again. “Not like this.”
He paused, considering his reply. “Forgive me, Mistress Telai. I’m forgetting my manners. You should strengthen yourselves with food and rest before we begin.”
Telai puzzled over his words as they resumed the climb. He led the way upward, and ever more upward, until her knees ached, and she wondered if they would ever see the end of it. But they never reached the top. To her relief he entered a narrow, twisting hallway ending at a door, which opened of its own accord as he approached.
They stepped through into a large room. Strange wooden shapes flowed along the ceiling, as if the chamber had been grown instead of excavated. Two massive beds, several chairs, a few tables and tall shelves, all formed a living part of the tree. The legs and bedposts merged with the floor like roots, and the thick headboards stuck out from the wall like old branch stumps healed over by years of growth.
“Here you can rest and refresh yourselves,” Ksoreda said as they gazed about. “There’s a small pitcher of wine on the table,” he added, pointing to the left. “I have nothing more substantial at present, I’m afraid. Later on I’ll be serving a full meal, and my servant Fedrallo will arrive to escort you when it’s ready. He’s seeing to your dogs and sleds as we speak.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, Master Tenlar—I’ll answer all your questions in due time. But if there’s anything else you’d like, strike the gong, and Fedrallo will come.” He gestured to the right, where a large, engraved stone plate lay embedded in the wall, with a wooden, leather-bound mallet hanging nearby on a cord.
“You’ve shown us every kindness,” Telai said, “but I insist we give heed to the matter of our quest as soon as possible. Time is precious.”
His smile faded. “Time is not your greatest challenge, Mistress Telai.”
“I don’t understand,” said Tenlar. “It’s taken us more than two weeks to get here from Spierel. To reach Ekendoré from here might take even longer.”
“You misunderstand me. Time is important, but first you must be told what is required of you, and why.” He frowned. “Something I neglected to ask before: are your parents still living?”
“Why?” he asked.
“The reasons are complicated. But they are crucial to the success of your mission, and I must have your answer. The survival of your people in Ekendoré depends on it.”
“My mother is alive,” Tenlar answered, “but my father died when I was very young.”
Ksoreda paled a little. “And
you
?”
Telai blushed. “Yes,” she murmured, and the old man drew a long breath.
“What?” Tenlar said, blinking at her. “You told me your father died like mine, when you were little.”
She shook her head. “There are more important things to worry about right now.” To Ksoreda she said, “You do understand that Ekendoré is not the only part of Ada we wish to save.”
His eyes turned sorrowful. “Of course. But you cannot defeat Heradnora without confronting her directly, and it is clear now that she intends to conquer every major city before showing herself at Ekendoré, using the Hodyn as her minions. And it would be suicide to confront her in Grimoa with her army surrounding her, especially without the element of surprise.”
Telai’s heart skipped a beat. “Conquer? What does that mean?”
Pity erased the last traces of his cheerful demeanor. He named the cities off grimly, as though citing a list of casualties. “Udan, Besa, Telené shortly after … then Enilií … I’ve yet to confirm whether Sintel has fallen. To the best of my knowledge Léiff, Spierel, and Ekendoré remain unconquered.”
A dead silence fell. Telai stood rooted to the floor, the walls wavering and swelling like in a dream. When Tenlar at last opened his mouth to speak, Ksoreda held up his hand. “I will say no more until evening.”
He left, the door closing behind him.
9
Violation
Rape comes in many forms.
- Edai, Weaponmaster of Ekendoré
THE COUNCIL
of Nine, the Overseer, and all higher-ranking Raéni met in the bright chamber of Larientur to hear Soren’s tale and discuss Ada’s defense. Rewba was there, as well as Hené, Corinn, and Edai, the Weaponmaster. Soren reported no trace of Garda’s fury from the night before, yet Caleb was relieved to be excluded from the proceedings, for whatever reason.
Though recent tidings had deepened the anxiety hanging over the city, neither their scouts nor the bivouac north of the Quayen saw any sign of the enemy other than at Udan. Hendra’s valley was as peaceful as ever. Caleb wondered at this, knowing it was foolish to assume the Hodyn were satisfied only with the quick fall of Udan. And he had not forgotten Wirden’s report to Soren. Had Heradnora bestowed their enemy with powers of stealth and secrecy enough to pass undetected before their very eyes? Soren suspected this as well, and he feared that if their guess was right, the smaller, less fortified cities in Ada were doomed. Rewba, as might be expected, wished to send a host of Raéni to the north in an attempt to recapture Udan, but Soren ruled against it.
The brief thaw ended, and the sun’s rays came and went between drifting clouds. Determined to help and to keep his mind occupied, Caleb began the installation of the laser rifles on Krengliné, using the accompanying tripods. He also helped Soren continue his efforts to train the best Raéni in the use of the hand-held weapons. Other than the Weaponmaster, eager for any new weapon no matter how outlandish or strange, the Raéni of Ekendoré displayed the same reluctance as the others did at the ship. But neither the Supreme Raén or Edai would tolerate any compromise in the defense of their city. High in the valley they practiced day after day, and the air would tremble in the streets below when someone missed a target and sheared off a splintered crag from the mountainside.
Meanwhile the Overseer prepared her citizens for a sudden evacuation to Gortgal, a maze of deep caverns a mile above the city. Caleb realized they needed to prepare for the worst, but the sight of endless carts and wagons hauling provisions up the winding streets of Ekendoré only added to his burdens. Garda sent messengers out by night to people living in the fertile lands north and south of the Quayen, even as far as Yonené, the woods bordering the Outlands to the east. With nearly all available Raéni in the region converging on the city to bolster its defense, she had no choice but to escort these folk to safety, abandoning their ranches and farmsteads to the Hodyn.
Caleb and Soren often met at evening meals to coordinate plans with Rewba and Hené, and sometimes Edai. Yet on one occasion they ate alone. The old Raén sat at a table in a small chamber of the palace, his fatigue-lined face shadowed by the wavering light of a chandelier.
“How soon will you be finished placing the larger weapons on the Old Wall?”
Caleb rubbed his eyes. “Four are in place already—one each at the North and South Gates, two near the conduit through which the Quayen passes. That was Edai’s suggestion. She considers the river the most vulnerable point. She also suggested I install them in such a way so they can be removed quickly—like during a retreat.”
Soren grimaced, then nodded. “Wise woman.”
“Yes. But as big as Krengliné is, it’s made of soft limestone. A repeated attack by a Hodyn with a laser just might breach even that old beast of a wall. We may not have enough time to save the larger weapons. We should install two others at Sonién, or near the palace, just in case.”
Soren turned the silver goblet of yrgona with his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. “I would dearly love to save Wsaytchen. But it has no strategic value. During a retreat we’d be forced to make bitter choices on what to defend. In any case, such an attack on Krengliné as you describe would be slow, leaving the enemy vulnerable to conventional weapons.”
“Wouldn’t a long delay at the Old Wall be more dangerous for us?”
“For both sides,” Soren replied, “and a delay works to our advantage. It appears that the Bringer will not show herself unless we force her to, and there can be no victory without her defeat.” He drained his cup and set it down with a plunk. “Still, it would be prudent to place your two remaining weapons on Sonién, one at each gate.”
Caleb noticed Soren’s bloodshot eyes. “Perhaps Rewba’s not the only one who needs some rest.” Strange how easy it was now to offer the Supreme Raén a little advice.
Soren regarded him for a moment, then glanced at Caleb’s bandaged arm.
“It’s not quite healed yet,” Caleb replied to the unspoken question. “But I spend half my time directing the work, so it’s no great inconvenience.” He shrugged. “What does a little scratch on my arm matter?”
The old man grasped the pitcher of yrgona nearby and refilled Caleb’s goblet. “Drink. And take your own advice and get some sleep. Hope is not lost while any of us live, Caleb Stenger of the Raéni.” He pushed the cup into his hands and slapped him on the shoulder. Caleb emptied it in one long draught.
♦
Even the Master Raén’s words of encouragement only went so far, however, as Caleb and many others discovered the next day. News reached the Overseer that Besa, most remote of all cities in southern Ada, had fallen to the Hodyn. No lasers were reported, but the founders of Besa had seen no need for any fortifications so far south and centuries after any war, and the capture of the city had been swift and final. Boroné had dispatched a few companies of Raéni from Léiff to regain it, but he feared to send any more and weaken his own defense.
Many in Ekendoré seethed with anger at this news, for the defeat of Besa offered no military value to the Hodyn, and according to reports hundreds of citizens had perished in the attack. The Master Raén’s puzzlement gave way to grim certainty. Clearly the Bringer had bestowed the Hodyn with the power to move quickly across the land without leaving a trace. He also suspected they were planning to leave Ekendoré to the last, to destroy or capture each city one by one, wearing down Ada’s resolve and eliminating all hope of rescue. The very name Ekendoré was an offense to their ears, and their plan to recapture their ancient city seemed flawless. Like Boroné, if Soren sent out help it would weaken the city’s defense, yet to ask for help would only weaken the defense somewhere else.
But he could wait in idleness no longer. His plan was not retribution, as Rewba desired, but theft. With Corinn in the lead, a dozen soldiers rode through the North Gate under cover of darkness, hoping to enter Udan by stealth and capture as many lasers as possible, if they could find them.
Two days later, Soren regretted his decision. A message from Homim arrived reporting that much of Telené had been destroyed by fire—fire started by lasers. It was obvious now that the Hodyn were quickly transporting their weapons along with their soldiers, and the Master Raén doubted that Corinn would recover any at Udan. He was tempted to send out a force to strengthen Corinn’s party and turn the theft into an attack, but recapturing Udan while it remained vulnerable to Hodyn lasers would be a foolish waste of soldiers. Instead he sent out a message by quick sled, hoping to recall his Chief Scout in time.