He waves a dismissive hand. “My job is to get these supplies and warn the villagers that they need to clear out before the enemy comes pillaging. Now either help me by translating or get out of my way.”
I don’t waste time arguing with him. I call, “Kal! It’s safe to come out.”
Kal strides into view. Where a prince walks, every gaze must follow.
“Sergeant.” He acknowledges the man with a nod but walks past the troops and places himself before the guesthouse porch, where he invites Mis to join him.
She throws a glance at me, rolls her eyes with a smile. For all that Mis has her own goals, she likes Kal and I think she even respects him.
After she introduces him, Kal offers a proper greeting to the dames of the village with the painstaking diction I’ve taught him. The women are happy to get paid directly rather than make a journey to Port Selene with their oil and naphtha, a trip that is now impossible anyway.
In the square, Ro has worked his way into a crowd, meeting their gazes, touching the arms of those young men and women with grievance writ large in their discontented expressions. He speaks with so much intensity, and anyway I’m curious about the discussions they hide from me, so I move toward him to hear better.
“We are quiet dogs biding in the shadows while the lions fight. When they have wounded each other and lie bleeding, then we become wolves. Those who can, follow me. Our war has begun at last.”
His words wrap around my heart but I stay just outside the group, not moving too close.
As people start loading casks and vessels onto the wagons the soldiers have brought, Kal takes a formal leave of the dames and returns to the soldiers.
“Sergeant?”
“Leukos, Your Highness.”
“Sergeant Leukos, I must reach General Esladas at once. There’s an enemy force west of here as well as the invaders on your tail. The Royal Army is at risk of being caught between two hammers.”
“Yes, indeed, my lord. That’s urgent news! Agas! Klidas! You’ll personally escort Lord Captain Kalliarkos to the general.”
Two soldiers not much older than I hustle over. They check out Mis and me, dwelling too long on our figures.
Ro pushes his way out of the crowd, headed for me. He halts as Agas and Klidas step into his path to prevent him from getting too close to an exalted lord captain. Mis notices their interference with an angry shrug that reminds me what an ordinary part of life it is for her and Ro to have to get out of the way and not protest. But of course Kal can walk right past them. Maybe he thinks Ro is anxious to say good-bye to him.
“You and Khamu have done your part and brought me to the Royal Army,” he says to Ro. In Efean he adds, “My thanks to you, brother.”
They tap fists.
“Wherever it is you mean to go,” Kal continues, “please warn the villagers to hide. The East Saro and Saro-Urok troops will burn and pillage, as we’ve seen.”
“It’s habitual with the Saroese,” agrees Ro.
Kal has about a hundred smiles, each conveying a different emotion. This time he glances at the ground as if to give himself an instant’s privacy as he decides how to respond, then back up to meet Ro’s sardonic stare. A wry smile softens his lips but his eyes give a harder message. “Change can happen. I believe that.”
“You always do believe that you mean what you say. I like you for it, but I know better than to trust in Saroese promises.”
“I’ll keep my promise to you. You’ll see.”
“That I will.”
Kal nods and walks away to make his farewell to Khamu.
In Efean, Ro says, “Jessamy. You don’t have to go with him. Their fight isn’t your fight.”
“Of course it’s my fight. It’s Efea’s fight.”
“If he dies, you’ll be taken down with him. If he wins, you’ll lose him anyway.” His deep voice snaps with emotions too complex to untangle. “You don’t belong to them, Jessamy. You belong with us.”
He touches my shoulder as if he wants to embrace me, then winces and pulls his clenched hand to his chest. Whether by accident or design, he has just copied the fist-to-heart theatrical gesture of a person heart-stricken by a hopeless love.
My tongue has turned to brick.
Kal waits beside Agas and Klidas. He sees us talking but does not interfere.
I meet the poet’s gaze with all the clarity I can muster. “We can’t risk being conquered by the East Saroese with Nikonos as their puppet king. You don’t have an army or weapons, Ro-emnu.”
“I have the truth, Spider. I just hope it’s not too late for you when you finally realize it.”
I don’t bid him farewell; I’m too angry.
Yet as I walk away he says, “If you are ever in trouble, I pledge on my five souls that I will aid you.”
I don’t look back.
7
We set out at a brisk walk along a wide path rutted with wagon tracks.
“What promise did you make to Ro?” I ask Kal.
“That it’s time to allow Efeans back into the army, as my grandfather did. For one thing, men like Inarsis don’t take well to proving their worth and then having it stripped from them. For another, we are warring against kingdoms who have bigger armies than we do. There are far more Commoners than Patrons in Efea. We could easily double or triple our army in size if we allowed Efeans to become soldiers.”
This is exactly what I’ve hoped for, the bridge between one part of my life and the other.
He adds, “Working together, can you and I convince your father that it’s a feasible idea?”
“Oh! So that’s why you wanted me to accompany you on this journey.”
He’s such a flirt with his eyes. “Yes, that’s the only reason.”
“I knew it.”
Mis coughs, and I look around to see Agas and Klidas watching us with frowns that skate close to hostility.
I say to them, “Any chance we can move faster, or do we need to stay walking for you soldiers to keep up with us?”
My crisp, fluent Saroese and blunt manner confuse them.
“We can run!” they protest, forgetting to be angry that I’ve challenged them.
I settle into an easy jog, the best we can manage in our exhausted state. A crow passes over us, winging its way south. I’m sure it’s the same one. We pass several more hollows of stinking, tarry ground, then climb a slope to a low rise. Ahead lies the sea. The high embankment of the Royal Road runs parallel to the shore. King Kliatemnos the Second had the road built to ease the way for Efea’s army when he began fighting border skirmishes on the Eastern Reach against his cousin kings of East Saro, Saro-Urok, and West Saro. The wars among the four kingdoms have never ended, only paused and started up again in a cycle that goes around and around.
Now a huge line of soldiers and wagons rumbles west along the road and out of my sight. Every unit flies the sea-phoenix banner: this is the Royal Army in retreat, marching toward what they believe is the safety of Saryenia’s walls. The silhouettes of spider scouts flash as the light of the setting sun glints off their brass carapaces.