The Water Road (40 page)

Gillem returned the smile. “We can.
We rarely do, but we can. In my years on the council I have heard that
far-reaching power is more likely to be welcomed, or at least not resisted,
when it is used very selectively. There will be other writers who will be
briefly upset, but that shall pass. So, to answer your question, once the text
is finished it should be about another month before we can begin distribution.”

Strefer was impressed. Everything
had clearly been thought through with care. “What else?” was the only thing she
could ask.

Gillem looked into the crackling
fire for a moment. “There is the issue of precisely what kind of publication
this should be. The council is split between two options. The first is a
softbound, cheaply printed volume like a pamphlet, something to keep the
distribution costs down. Perhaps even allow it to be distributed freely.”

Strefer remembered her deal with Forlahn.
“Or?”

“Or,” he said, landing on the word
as if the first option was a mere formality, “the other option is to make it a
quality hardbound book, sold at a reasonable price. There are arguments on both
sides, of course.”

“Such as?”

“A free book would presumably reach
a much wider audience. Social status would not be a barrier to learning about
this information.”

“However,” she said, leading him
on.

“However, free pamphlets are often
dismissed as the works of cranks or unreliable rabble-rousers. Whatever
audience it might find in the streets would be offset by the disdain with which
the upper classes, those who might wield some authority, would view it. Plus,
there is the sad fact that most Altrerians simply cannot read, at least well
enough to make wading through a work like this worth their time. A regular
book, with the assumed value of a product offered for sale, would, the argument
goes, make a greater impact, even if it reaches fewer hands.”

She mulled over the options in her
head, but was unable to come to a satisfactory conclusion. “What do you think?”
she asked him. It was a five-member council, after all. It could not be divided
equally.

“I would rather not say,” he
answered. “The decision is yours. I will support it regardless.”

She tried to read his face, to
figure out what he really thought. She would hate to disappoint the man after
all he had done for her. But the more she thought about it, there was only one
answer. “A regular book, I think. Sell it,” she said, then added, “but any
profits that come of it are to go to Forlahn, not me.”

Gillem smiled at her. “I knew you
would choose correctly.” After he let the comment settle, he said, “That leaves
only one other matter to resolve. It need not be settled right this moment, but
you should be thinking about what you will call this book.”

The question took her by surprise.
She had never given thought to anything actually being published to worry about
a title. But if it had the impact she hoped, the title would be linked with her
for the rest of history. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

He rose from the chair opposite
her. “You do that. As I said, there is no real hurry on that score. Some title
by the time the manuscript is finished would be sufficient. Now, since I have
given you a deadline, I will leave you to your work.” He opened the door and
began to walk out.

“First Councilor,” she said,
stopping his progress. “Will this make a difference? Will it change things?
Will anybody even care?”

He turned to face her. The kind,
reassuring face he had worn to that point was gone, replaced by one of grim
certainty. “It almost certainly will change things a great deal, young lady.
What that change might be and whether it will be for good or ill, I do not
know. We are servants of the truth, not of consequences. Good morning,” he
said, turning and closing the door behind him.

~~~~~

The earth under Strefer’s feet felt
more solid than before, somehow. She had spent so long up in the trees that she
had actually forgotten what it felt like to stand on solid ground. By its
nature, Oberton had a bit of sway and give to it that would unsettle the
earthbound. Strefer thought of it as somewhat like being at sea, from the
delicate give of the boardwalks underfoot to the subtle pitching of the room
back and forth when a steady breeze rustled the leaves. She had not really
thought about it until now and yet she found herself missing it already.

It turned out that the lift in
which they rode up to Oberton was only one of several that dropped through the
canopy to the forest floor. Two of them, located several hundred yards away,
were designed specifically for cargo, not passengers. Wylph led the way through
the dense underbrush, with Strefer and Forlahn following behind. They walked in
silence, focused on the path that Wylph explained linked the various lift areas
together. Strefer, as usual, could not see it. She focused on Wylph’s feet,
paying particular attention when he placed one in front of the other in a tight
single file.

Within minutes, they exploded into
a clearing much like the one in which the lift had deposited them on. In fact,
Strefer could not have argued convincingly that it was a different clearing at
all. Then she saw the basket of another lift, orders of magnitude larger than
the one in which they had been transported, settled on the ground.

It was filled with books. Hundreds
of books. Her book, first editions of
True History of the Neldathi
Oppression
, by Strefer Quants. Gillem had insisted that she retain full
authorial credit, in spite of the considerable assistance provided by the
Oberton historians. She had managed, over the weeks, to trim her own part of
the story down and tighten up the narrative. The result was just over two
hundred pages, more than half of which was a faithful reproduction, down to the
odd spellings and word choice, of the red notebook she had taken from Alban’s
library so long ago.

The clearing was soon a hub of
activity. Gillem had prepared a distribution scheme, which he jokingly called a
“plan of attack,” to get the book to the most people in the shortest amount of
time. He had sent emissaries to a pair of neighboring towns to recruit
horsemen. Oberton, he had explained, had no means to house or feed horses. That
should have been obvious, but Strefer was forced to admit she had not given the
matter much thought. Reflecting on her time there, she realized that she had
not seen any large draft of herd animals in the city. Now she knew why.

The horsemen arrived, each with an
additional horse aside from the one they rode. They were paired up with
Obertonian escorts. Pairs of riders were sent off in every direction, each
carrying a load of books. The plan called for focusing on the areas furthest
from Oberton initially, including Tolenor, Innisport, Ventris, and Sermont.
Those cities were either seats of power or way stations for travelers and
traders. Word would spread from there. Gillem admitted that he partly hoped
that printers in those cities would print their own editions to help spread the
word. Meanwhile, slower and more deliberate parties would set out on foot and
horse for the other cities in the Arbor.

Strefer simply stood by and
watched. Her role in the process was complete, at least for now. Once she had
handed her draft over to the printers she found herself awash in free time. At
first, she tried to play some part in the formatting and other technical
exercises, but was forced to admit she knew nothing about such things. It was
best that she stayed out of the way. The Guild was full of obsessive,
overbearing writers who were intent on maintaining complete control over their
work at all times, sometimes even after they landed in readers’ hands.
Strefer’s newspaper experience, on the other hand, had taught her to live with
the need to submit a story and simply let it go, moving on to the next
assignment.

As the last pair of riders prepared
to set off, Wylph walked over to her, haggard but with a pleased look on his
face. “Have you been here the whole time? I assumed you would have gone back to
the city.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t
have found my way back to the lift if I tried. Besides, it was fascinating to
watch.”

He folded a notebook, in which he kept
track of his charges, under his arm. “The horsemen really don’t know what
they’re doing. The Obertonians know a little bit, but not much. They might read
a copy of the book along the way. But I’m certain the horsemen have no idea
what they are in for.”

Strefer tensed, thinking of those
riders being the first people to bear the brunt of any backlash because of what
she wrote. “I suppose if the price is right, they’ll put it out of their
minds,” she said, rationalizing her guilt away.

“True,” Wylph agreed, without
confidence.

“Do you really think there will be
trouble?” Strefer asked, unable to shake her apprehension.

He shrugged. “Too hard to tell at
this point. Certainly, the first few riders who reach the cities won’t have any
problems. But once word begins to spread of what is in this book? The pair
bound for Tolenor will be among the last to arrive. By the time they reach the
city, who knows how much will have leaked out? Once a Sentinel gets a hold of
your book I’m sure the contents will be beamed out all over Altreria.”

She considered the possibility and
remembered how fast someone spread the word about her and Rurek. “I hope
nothing happens to them. It’s not their fault, after all.”

“Not true,” Wylph said, turning to
her. “Like it or not, our entire city has been thrown behind you, Strefer. You
seem to think that all that might happen is your revelations are ignored. I
don’t think it will work that way. People do not take kindly to having their
world turned upside down. It doesn’t matter if it’s true. Some people just
don’t want to know the truth. Those people will be as upset with us as they are
with you.”

Stefer said nothing, letting the
weight of the situation sink into her. Finally, she said, “How long do you
think it will take before we know what kind of…reception…this will get?”

“Who knows?” Wylph said, very calm
for his uncertainty. “All we can do is wait.” They watched until the last pair
of riders was out of view. “That is all for now,” he said, turning to her. “Are
you ready to go home?”

He meant Oberton, but that wasn’t
home. Tolenor was her home, where her apartment, or what was left of it, was.
Or the Guild house in Quantstown where she grew up. But not anymore. Her home,
for now, was in the trees. Depending on how her book we received, it might be
the last home she ever knew. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “Let’s go home.”

If the Neldathi lands had a heart,
it was the Hogarth Pass. Situated at the point where the Rothery Mountains meet
the Mosley Range, multiple clans could make a claim to it. It was more valley
than pass, but it was so narrow that it could be easily blocked.

That was why so much bloody history
had occurred there. The pass had been the site of many bloody clashes among the
Akan, Uzkaleyn, and Elein. Antrey found a Speaker of Time who even told a story
of a time when the Kohar, who roam so much farther north, once tried to claim
it. They failed, of course, and miserably, to hear the Speaker tell it.

The Hogarth Pass was also where the
dream of a unified Neldathi people died more than a century ago. It was where
Sirilo had come with his army after being smashed on the Plains of Terrell. Had
Halbart been more familiar with the terrain, he surely would not have pursued
the Neldathi into the pass. But he and his army had set upon them without
mercy. That the Rising had been crushed in this place, one so well suited to a
rugged defense, made it all the more bitter.

Putting aside all that history,
Antrey found that the pass was very beautiful in the Neldathi spring. At the
base of the mountains it was already warm enough that the winter snows had
melted. The pass itself awoke as a rolling meadow that was just coming into
bloom. Streams fed by the snowcaps on the mountains fed a staggering array of
plant and animal life. Antrey knew it was the best place for what she had in
mind.

Her party had been reduced to its
most essential members. After the Battle on the Ice, and the associated
mourning, she had sent all the warriors home, though not for long. They had a
long struggle ahead of them and needed to see out the winter with their
families and clans. Hirrek returned to the coast to fetch Ushan. Antrey looked
forward to seeing the old matriarch, since so much had transpired after their
last meeting.

Antrey had tried to send Naath home
as well, or at least back to the
Gentle Giant
, but without success. She
did not really understand what he saw in her, or this undertaking in which he
had no real stake, but she welcomed his company. For all her talk of
brotherhood and unity amongst the Neldathi, she would always be an outsider in
their midst. Having Naath around gave her someone in a similar position she
could commiserate with.

Antrey arrived at the pass about a
month ahead of schedule with a few dozen others. The extra time allowed them
more time to complete the project Antrey had set for them before the theks
arrived. Using wood from the upslope forests around them, they began to
construct something many Neldathi had never seen. A fixed, permanent structure,
large and round. The walls were made of immense logs that left no doubt that
this place was never meant to be broken down and relocated. Inside, long,
elegantly curved wooden benches were arranged.

Antrey modeled the building after
the Grand Council chamber in Tolenor. Whatever evil the Triumvirate had done to
the Neldathi, it had been done with great unity and efficiency. From the
reading she did in Alban’s library, Antrey knew that the Grand Council chamber
had been designed to enhance the feeling of solidarity among the disparate
Triumvirate members. It assured that no one nation could preside over the
others. It forced the speaker into the crucible at the center of the room to
face questions from all directions. It broke down hierarchies and helped the
strongest ideas flourish.

When the building was finished,
Antrey stood on the smooth wooden floor at the center of the room. Around her
was a circle of eleven benches of dark, polished wood. Each was the same size
and same height. Each had two more rows of smaller benches behind it. In this
room, Antrey hoped, all the clans would have an equal voice. And a unified one.

~~~~~

The theks of each clan arrived over
the course of a week. Unlike the original meeting at Port Jaray, Antrey had not
tried to limit the size of the parties coming to this meeting. She thought the
size of each group would give her some idea of her influence with the different
clans, particularly the ones who stood against her in the Battle on the Ice.
Some might come with dozens, others thousands. Hopefully no single clan would
dwarf the others and create problems.

Antrey’s only requirement was that
the theks themselves, rather than some delegate or underling, were present at a
certain location at a certain time. One by one, they came. Ushan was one of the
first to arrive, even though the Dost territory was among the farthest away
from the Hogarth Pass. The time allowed them to catch up on all that had
happened since Antrey and her advisors left Ushan for Port Levin. A few days later,
Antrey was cheered by the arrival of Yimir, who led the Dagan forces against
her only a few months ago, in the entourage of Thek Treman of the Akan.

Much to Antrey’s relief, the
parties of each of the clans were approximately the same size. They made camp
in a loose circle around the new meeting hall. She visited each one and
suggested, rather than ordered, that they should all move into the valley to
the west of the pass, so that the clans could mingle together. That everyone
did so, without any real cajoling or arm-twisting on her part, filled Antrey
with great hope. She sent word to all the theks for them, along with two
trusted advisors, to join her in the meeting hall on the third morning of their
gathering.

Antrey awoke early that morning.
She tried to eat a bit, but her stomach was having none of it, her nerves
causing it to lurch and dance at random. Somewhere in the dark of night, as she
lay in bed unable to sleep, it occurred to her that all that had come before
had been easy, by comparison. This meeting was the point to which her path had
led her. If she failed today, it would go no further. For the first time since
the theks began assembling here, she began to panic about what might happen if
the meeting ended in failure. Where would she go? What would she do? Could she
return to the Dost and live out her days with them, endlessly traveling the
circuit through their territory? Could she find a place in one of the Islander
cities? Only one thing was certain in her mind. The only way Antrey would return
to the land north of the Water Road was at the head of an army.

She shared a cup of weak tea with
Naath to try and calm her nerves before going to the meeting hall. She stood
outside, near the main entrance but not next to it, and watched the theks and
their parties file in. Ushan arrived, as expected, with Hirrek and Kajtan in
tow. To Antrey’s surprise, Goshen was also with them. He had no official part
to play in the day’s discussion, which Antrey realized might have been an
oversight. He parted company with the others and walked over to her.

“How does this auspicious morning
find you, jeyn?” he asked.

“Nervous. Worried. Apprehensive,”
she said, letting her words trail off.

“Have faith, jeyn,” he said with a
reassuring smile. “The Maker of Worlds has brought us all this far. Surely she
would not let this great commission fail now?” He paused, but when Antrey did
not answer, he asked, “Perhaps I could be of assistance in some way?”

Antrey shook her head. “Thank you,
Goshen, but I don’t think so. I appreciate all you have done, for me and for
our people. But the decision that is made today inside this hall must have its
basis on reason and logic, not faith or superstition.” The moment she said it,
Antrey knew it was too harsh.

Goshen gasped a bit, almost under
his breath, at the barb.

“I meant no offense. I know you’re
sincere in your beliefs, Goshen, and, I must admit, you can be very
convincing.” That produced a slight smile from him, at least. “But my view of
the world and what I know about it was shaped by what I learned in Tolenor. For
better or worse, the Altrerians no longer trouble themselves with the gods.
They face problems head-on, with just their logic and intellect. Obviously it
doesn’t always work out for the best.” Goshen nodded his agreement. “But it is
the only way for a divided people to try and come together. We have separate
goals, you and I, that are related in many ways. This is a time for me to go on
my own way, to win the theks over on my own merit.”

They stood in silence for a moment
before Goshen spoke. “I understand, jeyn. I do not agree, but agreement is not
required. I believe that our destinies are more closely linked than perhaps you
are willing or able to acknowledge. But we will have more time in the future to
discuss it. In the meantime, I will ask the Maker to give you strength and
wisdom in what lies ahead.”

She smiled slightly, touched by the
sincere if empty gesture. “Thank you, Goshen.”

Before she could say any more,
Hirrek stepped out of the meeting hall and called to her. “They are all
assembled, jeyn. They await you.”

Antrey stepped towards the meeting
hall.

~~~~~

Standing in the center of the hall,
as the eyes of everyone else focused on her, Antrey thought back to the chamber
of the Grand Council in Tolenor. She had never been on the floor while the
Grand Council was in session, only during a recess or after a session had
ended. As a clerk, she would never have any place on the floor during debate.
She had always been awed by the room, by the sensation of the rising rows of
seating completely surrounding her. Even when they were half empty, or filled
only with low-level advisors making small talk, the chamber had an awesome
majesty to it.

This meeting hall, which stood
alone in the middle of the Hogarth Pass, was less imposing, at least
physically. Its rough-hewn timbers, fresh from the nearby mountains, stood in
stark contrast to the ornate, smooth, polished hardwood of the Grand Council
chamber. Nonetheless, Antrey could feel the weight of history bearing down upon
her. Here, in the hall that she had built, the glare of every pair of eyes fell
on her.

“Welcome, brothers and sisters,”
she said, quieting the low murmur of other voices in the room. “I thank you for
the long journeys that brought you to this place.” She was now fluent in a sort
of amalgamated Neldathi language, one that lost some of the nuances of each
clannish dialect, but one that was almost universally understood.

She turned and began a roll call of
those in attendance. “Welcome Clan Elein and the brave Thek Birkthir,” she
said, starting with the Elein both to acknowledge their support of her thus far
and their long history.

“Welcome to Clan Akan and the
gallant Thek Treman.” She nodded at the wizened man, who did so in return.

“Welcome to Clan Dost and the wise
Thek Ushan.” The old woman returned the courtesy with a smile.

“Welcome to Clan Chellein and the
stalwart Thek Olban.” Antrey lingered on Olban just a moment, as she was one of
the few female leaders in attendance.

“Welcome to Clan Kohar and the
perceptive Thek Niwar,” she said to her clan of birth and its leader, the
youngest one here by some years.

“Welcome to Clan Mughein and the
prudent Thek Adnon.” Of all those who had initially sided with her against the
Degans, Adnon had been the most reluctant.

“Welcome to Clan Volakeyn and the
rugged Thek Ilan.” She nodded to him as well as Dagan, who sat behind him.

“Welcome to Clan Uzkaleyn and the
stout Thek Korlen.” Although she had a reputation as a nimble thinker, Korlen’s
most obvious asset was her size. Antrey thought she could easily best Hirrek,
if need be.

“Welcome to Clan Haglein and the
spirited Thek Myslen.” His clan’s loyalty to the cause was one of the first
reports Antrey received.

“Welcome to Clan Sheylan and the
astute Thek Ceylan.” She nodded at the man who had been the main strategic
force behind the Dagan army. Antrey knew he still bore a bruise from being
bested by a woman.

“And, finally, welcome to Clan
Paleyn and the elegant Thek Augan.” Augan, whose clan was protected by Kaneyn,
the god of waters, looked as if she had been poured from a glass herself.

With those pleasantries out of the
way, it was time to get to business.

“It was more than a century ago, in
this place, when the Rising died,” Antrey began. “When an army made up of the
combined forces of the United Guilds of Altreria, the Confederated States of
the Arbor, and the Kingdom of Telebria hunted down Sirilo and the remains of
his army, which they crushed. They broke it and destroyed it without mercy. The
Rising died that day, but the Triumvirate was born. From those ashes, a new
unity can arise amongst us as well.” She went on to tell the story of Alban,
how she came to work for him, and how she discovered what they had been doing
to the Neldathi. When she finished, she paused to allow someone to jump in with
a question.

Adnon stood up. “Jeyn Antrey, if I
may,” he said, leaving the end of the question hanging.

Antrey nodded.

“I believe that we have all heard
the tale of how you uncovered the Triumvirate’s plot to keep our people at each
other’s throats,” he said. “It is fine to hear those details directly from you,
of course, for the first time. However, we must have been brought here to
answer the question of what comes next. Armed with this information, this
spark, what is to be done? We are all now aware of you and you have proven your
ability to us all. What is it that you now ask from us?” He sat back down.