Chapter 13
Gavin smiled as he stepped off the skimmer onto Seers Island. Karris had her ataghan drawn, and was pointing her pistol at the nearest man.
The people stood in an unruly mob, but they were armed with swords and muskets, makeshift spears. There were few commonalities between them: they had come from all seven satrapies, light-skinned and dark, dirty and clean, dressed in silk and wool. Several had an extra eye drawn on their forehead with coal. Though even among those, some had exquisitely drawn, others rough, lopsided.
What these men and women had in common was only this: each one had the religious devotion to cross reefs in a small outrigger canoe to get here, and every one of them was a drafter.
A woman stepped through the crowd. She was little, barely taller than Gavin’s waist, arms and legs short, her trunk the size a woman of average height would have. She had a flaring eye tattooed exquisitely on her forehead.
“You will not draft here,” she said.
“I’ll decide that,” Gavin said.
Instead of looking irritated, she smiled. “It is as foretold.”
Seers. Excellent. “Someone foretold that I’d say that?” Gavin asked.
“No, that you’d be an asshole.”
Gavin laughed. “I think I’m going to like this place.”
“You’ll come with us,” she said.
“Sure,” Gavin said.
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Yes it was,” Gavin said. “When you don’t have power to compel obedience, by definition you’re making a request. What’s your name?”
“Caelia. When I tire, you’ll carry me,” she said, unimpressed.
“Happy to.”
The sound of a cocking hammer interrupted them. Karris pointed her pistol straight at Caelia’s third-eye tattoo. There was a rattle as the other men pointed their muskets at Karris, cocked them.
“Try anything,” Karris said, “and I’ll hollow out your skull.”
“The White Blackguard. We were told you’d be forceful.”
Karris uncocked her pistol and tucked it away, sheathed her sword.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Gavin said. “Who are you taking me to see, and how far away is she?” The “she” was a guess. He knew little about the Seers’ religious belief, indeed, he thought there was no unified belief here, but when faced with biological facts, cultures had to make their own interpretations. Female drafters tended to draft more successfully because more of them could see colors more accurately, and they tended to live longer than male drafters. Those cultures that had decided this meant Orholam favored women didn’t like it being assumed that they would be led by a man.
“The Third Eye resides at the base of Mount Inura.”
Gavin pointed to the tallest mountain. It was green, not so tall that it had a tree line, but still quite a walk. “What is that, a five-hour walk from here?”
“Six.”
“Don’t suppose you have horses?” Gavin asked.
“We have some few horses, but one walks when one goes to see the Third Eye. It is a pilgrimage. It gives one time to reflect and prepare the soul for the meeting.”
“Uh-huh. Well, when the Third Eye comes to see me, she can ride. I want her to be in the right frame of mind.”
Caelia appeared to be chewing on the insides of her cheeks. “So it was foretold.”
“She foretold I wouldn’t come?” Gavin asked.
“No, still the asshole part.” Her men chuckled.
“If it helps, I’m not being capricious. I’ve work to do. I’ll be here, doing it.”
Caelia looked around at the two hundred armed men who surrounded Gavin and Karris. “I could insist, you know. These men are not just armed, they are drafters, too.”
“I’m the Prism,” Gavin said, like she just wasn’t getting it. “Do you think two hundred men can keep me from doing what I Will?”
Caelia hesitated. “I think you seek out conflict needlessly.”
“Hear, hear,” Karris said under her breath.
Sometimes Gavin thought the world was full of morons. Power could be a knife, but often it had to be a bludgeon. A man like Commander Ironfist could speak gently, because simply by standing he overawed other men with his physical presence. Gavin had to draw lines and enforce them, because he didn’t trust others to do it for him. He had to do it because if others were allowed to start basing their decisions on the assumption that he was weak, it would take blunt force to get them to change their minds. Deterrence is cheaper than correction.
But what he’d said about Will wasn’t thrown in heedlessly. Drafters always imposed their will on the world. The most powerful drafters always included more than their share of madmen, bastards, divas, and assholes. And because everything depended on them, they were tolerated. Gavin most of all.
But the more power you have, the harder it is to recognize what’s beyond your power.
And there was a pleasure in seeing others do what you want. Gavin felt it now as Caelia gave orders, rounding up her men and leaving. He could tell himself that it was important to establish the power dynamic because of what he had to do, and to prepare the Seers for the bitter pill that they were going to have to swallow. That was true, but he had to watch himself, too.
Before they were even gone, Gavin headed back down the beach. He’d left the skimmer sealed.
“We have one week,” he told Karris. “This bay is too wide, so we’ll need to build seawalls off that point and from there to there. I’m going to have to clear out the reefs. I’m thinking of clearing them in a zigzag pattern so that if an invading navy comes here, they’ll be destroyed, but we’ll have marked the safe way so that the locals can direct traffic. Buoys that can be moved? I also haven’t decided how wide the safe path should be. If it’s too narrow, you keep supplies from getting into the city and it simply becomes too expensive for many people to live here, but too open and the reefs no longer serve as a deterrent. So your thoughts are more than welcome. Other than that, I’ll need your help prioritizing what things I need to build to give my people a running start. Do we clear the jungle—and if so, how? Do we need to build a wall against the native animals, against the native people? Should we try to build any houses, or would that be too much work?”
Karris was just looking at him. “You know, every time I think I know you… You’re really doing this, aren’t you? You’re founding a city. Not just a village. You’re planning for it to be a major center.”
“Not during my life.” Gavin smiled.
“You know, if you keep changing everything you touch, nothing’s going to be the same five years from now.”
Five years. It was supposed to be the remainder of his term as Prism. But he was already dying, and pretty soon Karris would notice. “No,” he said, “I hope it’s not.”
Five years, and five great purposes left. Except now he only had one year.