Iain had already begun saying, "'And being as it is more grave that a man talented in tongues should reveal secrets which are given to him under the shield of interpretation—'" He stopped and looked expectantly at Fowler.
There was a pause, and the guard named Jephthah suggested, "Turn the chain, Fowler."
"No, I remember this one," Fowler replied, stretching out his legs toward the fire. "'—the sentence for such a crime shall be mercy or branding or death.'"
"Death! Is that right?" said the guard named Hoel. Iain nodded, and Hoel asked, "Why death?"
"Listen to the Justification," said the sublieutenant. "Jephthah, if you flick one more piece of wood in my face, I swear that the next time you call for help, I'll leave you to your doom."
Jephthah, smiling, tossed another wood chip in the sublieutenant's direction as Fowler said, "For those who have been entrusted with the work of interpretation, and who have therefore been allowed to hear secrets which they could not otherwise lawfully hear, have a greater duty than most men to remain silent, even when threatened with pain or death. For the interpreter is an intermediary between men of different lands, enabling the Chara and his people to spread knowledge of the Law to others in the Three Lands and beyond. And should the interpreter fail to keep to his duty, the Law will— It will—' Oh, may you die a Slave's Death, Iain. Complete the link."
It took a while for Iain to be heard over the laughter. Finally he said, "'And should the interpreter fail to keep to his duty, the Law will die in the end, for the Lawmaker ordained that the Law should be given to all people. This is Emor's gift to the other lands, and so the interpreter, because he stands between two lands, is granted a role almost as great as that of the Chara, since he alone has the ability to show Emor to other lands, and other lands to Emor.'"
"Did he get that right?" Fowler turned for confirmation to the sublieutenant, and then sighed heavily and dramatically as the sublieutenant nodded. Fowler dragged his body back until it was outside the tight circle of guards surrounding the fire.
The sublieutenant said, "One link missing, but you relinked the chain nicely, Iain. It is Jephthah's turn again."
"Not again!" protested Jephthah, who was sitting beside Iain. "I swear, sublieutenant, you arrange it this way every time: the chain always turns when it reaches you, and you win the game purely because it is never your turn."
"It makes no difference if the sublieutenant does play," said Hoel. "He never breaks a link."
The sublieutenant gave a faint smile. His smile still intrigued me: one half of his face turned upward while the other remained serious. "I have broken more than enough links in my time," he said. "Just ask the lieutenant. But I will be glad to take the next turn if you insist. Iain?"
"Hold your attack," said Iain. "I still cannot think of a linking law."
"The Law of Ambassadors," suggested Hoel, turning his flask upside down to confirm that it was empty. "That is another law about intermediaries."
"The Law of Peace Settlements," offered Fowler from outside the circle. "Ambassadors are mentioned in that one."
"Only in the Definition, not in the Justification," said the sublieutenant. "What about the Law of the Border Mountain Patrol, Iain? I am sure that I cannot remember that one."
His suggestion was hooted down amidst the laughter. Iain said, "No, I know which one to use; there is a mention of interpreters toward the end. I have been saving this one for you, sublieutenant – you will never complete the link. 'And being as it is gravest of all that anyone should disobey the Great Chara—'"
"It is bound to fail, Iain," said Jephthah. "He knows all of the Great Three by heart."
"Not entirely," said the sublieutenant, "and I still have to memorize most of the Law of Grave Iniquity. But I know the subsection that you are going to cite."
"You only think that you know it," said Iain. "Subsection Thirty-Four, 'On Obedience of Witness.'"
The sublieutenant smiled and tossed a twig into the flames. Through the fire I could see his eyes, bright green like the grass around him. There was an odd intensity about his gaze as it rested upon Iain – odd because his voice was light as he said, "'—the sentence for such a crime shall be mercy or enslavement or the high doom of death by the sword. Subsection Thirty-Four. It is also important that at all times the Emorian people give true witness to the Chara, not only in his court, but even when he speaks with them outside of the court. And this remains true if a man should meet with the Chara in private—"
Iain's howl cut short the sublieutenant's recital. Hoel said, "I have no memory of that sentence."
"The Chara revised the subsection last year," said the sublieutenant, patting Iain on the back with a show of commiseration as the guard buried his face in his hands. "He changed it so that it would conform with the proclamation he issued in connection with the charge brought against the court summoners' clerk who lied to him. It was the first time that the Chara had been obliged to interpret whether this subsection should be applied to private conversations."
"Is that the clerk whom Neville replaced?" asked Jephthah.
"Neville told me about the revision," Iain said, tossing his head up. "He said that the revision hadn't been published yet, and he swore that he hadn't told you about it. May the high doom fall upon you, sublieutenant – how did you know about the change?"
The sublieutenant replied calmly, "Because unlike the rest of you, I spend my winters studying the law rather than dissipating my time in wine, women, and song. I do not waste my evenings in taverns filled with crooning bards singing sickly sentimental songs about murder and suicide – unlike a certain guard I could mention." His gaze turned toward Jephthah, who silently toasted him amidst the laughter. "Nor do I spend my time hand-in-hand and lip-to-lip with loose women, as does our junior-most guard, judging from the volume of letters he receives—"
"We are betrothed!" the youngest guard said indignantly.
"The more fool you for getting yourself betrothed when you could be spending your leisure time practicing swordplay and the law."
"We all practice swordplay during the winters, sublieutenant," volunteered Fowler from the half-light where he sat.
"I assume so, or you would all be dead," replied the sublieutenant. "But if Chatwin does not spend more time learning the law and less time sighing over his betrothed's picture, he is likely to take another misstep into lawbreaking one of these days. I swear, Chatwin, you know as little law as a god-loving Koretian."
Chatwin's partner, Hoel, looked angry, but Fowler interjected his voice first. "Be gentle on him, sublieutenant. He has only been with us for three months. Anyway, you still need to finish your link."
"Do not bother," said Iain, pulling himself out of the circle. "He knows the rest of the subsection; I have heard him recite it. What is your next link, sublieutenant? The Law of False Witness is an obvious choice."
"I am not sure I know that one," said Chatwin in a subdued voice.
He was staring at the ground, and the sublieutenant looked his way, then smiled again suddenly. "This one you know," he said. "'And being as it is more grave that a soldier should be disobedient to his official—'"
"'—the sentence for such a crime shall be mercy or reprimand or beating,'" Chatwin replied promptly. "'For however small an order it may be that the soldier refuses to obey, his obedience is necessary in all things . . .'"
I was beginning to feel very cramped, crouched as I was behind the bush. Part of me knew that I should leave while the guards were still absorbed in their conversation; it was clear by now that they would not be discussing their patrolling plans. But nothing could have driven me from where I was. Here at last I had found what I was seeking: information about the law. And though I didn't understand most of what was being said, I knew two things: that the mountain patrol was learned in the law, and that the patrol's sublieutenant was more learned in such matters than anyone else here.
At that moment, the sublieutenant, still listening to Chatwin's recital, leaned forward to throw a few final drops of his flask-liquid onto the fire. As the flames sizzled and steamed, his eyes rose, and for a brief moment I thought that he could see me, but his gaze continued to rise until he was staring straight up at the stars above, leaning back on his hands.
There was a pause in the conversation. Chatwin had finished his recital; now he said, "Did I get that right?"
"Quite right," said the sublieutenant, still staring up at the stars wheeling above. "Except that you said 'obedience toward the Chara' rather than 'to the Chara.' That makes a great difference in the law, you know."
"How so?" asked Fowler.
The sublieutenant finally looked down again to stare at his empty flask. He made no reply to his partner's question, but said, "I am out of wine, and so is Hoel. Will you fill our flasks, Fowler?"
"Let Hoel go," responded Fowler. "I want to hear what the difference is."
Again, the sublieutenant did not reply, but he hummed a short phrase of music that sounded vaguely familiar. The other guards' heads swivelled in the sublieutenant's direction, and after a moment, Fowler grinned and said, "Oh, very well, I will take on the duty. Where did Devin put the new cask?"
"At the south end of the storeroom, in the direction of the door. If you are going to open a cask, though, you had better clean that blood-dirtied blade of yours."
Fowler obediently came up to the fire and held his blade over the fire to cleanse it, then sheathed it once more as Iain said between yawns, "Good hunting in finding that cask, Fowler. The way Devin hides our goods, you will be at it all night."
"Five minutes at most," said Fowler, looking toward the hut. "I place a day's wages on it."
"Wager accepted," said Iain as Fowler walked away. "All right, sublieutenant, I surrender. What
is
the difference between 'to' and 'toward'?"
The sublieutenant tossed his empty flask to one side. "As a term of the law, 'to' indicates a difference of rank: we are obedient
to
the Chara because we are all subject to him. But if you were obedient
toward
the Chara, that would imply that you were of the same rank as he was, and that your obedience to him was voluntary. That is why, in the Law of Vengeance—"
All of the guards present groaned, and Jephthah said, "Not the Law of Vengeance
again
. I thought we would be able to spend one evening without hearing you mention that law."
"It is relevant." The sublieutenant glared at Jephthah. "In the law's Justification, in the passage on the burdens of the Chara, it is stated that the Chara has no equals, but it also says that the Chara is obedient
to
the law of which he is the embodiment. That shows that not even the Chara is as high as the law, and that even he must be obedient to its consequences. Thus the Chara's only master is the law, just as our greatest masters are the Chara and his law . . ."
We were reaching here closer and closer to the center of all my questions: what the law was, who decided what it said, why it existed. Yet something continued to tap at the back of my mind, and in a single instant I recognized the two thoughts that were trying to break through to my consciousness. One was the realization that Fowler had not taken any flasks with him when he walked away from the fire. The other was the realization that I knew what tune the sublieutenant had been humming: it was a whistle-code, and it meant, 'The hunted is sighted.'"
I stood and whirled, but it was too late; Fowler was standing beside me, blocking my path to the tunnel. His sword was out, and in the dim shadows where we stood, I could see that he was smiling.
"So you are back from the dead," he said in strongly accented Common Koretian. "Well, you will have no further opportunity to trick us, Koretian."
I had only a moment to think. Behind us, the sublieutenant had stopped talking; I knew that he and the other guards were poised to leap forward. I couldn't climb the sheer wall next to me; if I went toward the fire, the guards would capture me; if I ran toward the back of the hollow, there would be no place for me to hide. My only hope was to reach the tunnel, and Fowler was between me and the tunnel.
I had only a moment to think. Then I was past him, and in my hand was my dagger, now wet with blood.
I did not pause until I reached the point where I would break out of the bushes and reach the tunnel. I could hear that the guards were just starting to run forward in response to Fowler's grunt; now I looked back to see how far ahead of them I was.
I barely noticed the guards near the fire, for what I saw was closer than them: the sublieutenant, leaning over Fowler, his hand drenched with blood as he tried to staunch the wound in the side of his motionless partner. He looked up. For a moment I thought that he would pursue me and that he would succeed in catching me, since he was so far ahead of the others. Instead, from his shadow-dark lips there emitted a sound unlike any I had ever heard a human make. It was a whistle, but it was as high and blazing as a shooting star in the sky. It pierced the still night air with such force that I thought the mountains would crack, yet it was higher in tone than any bird's call.
Fenton hadn't taught me this whistle, but I could guess its meaning. I turned, and began my escape from death.
By the time I reached the other end of the tunnel, a deluge of whistles was pouring through the mountain air, all overlapping each other so that I could barely tell where they were coming from. Above them all, I could hear the whistle of the lieutenant, close to where I stood. I turned, and ran in the opposite direction, toward Koretia.
It didn't take me long to realize my folly. I might save my life in this way, by returning to Koretia, but of what use was my life if I spent it in a land where I would never learn about the law? Stubbornly, I turned and began racing east into the mountains. The whistles around me were closer; my only chance was to do as Fenton had done and leave the safe territory of the mountain passes.
The guards around me were racing toward me much faster than they had throughout the day. No attempt was being made to safely encircle me; no caution was being shown toward me any more. Every guard, I could guess, now had his blade drawn, and every one of them was prepared to use it on me the moment I was captured. I had drawn deep blood; I was as much in danger now as I had been when I hunted in Cold Run.