Water Logic (9 page)

Heras had not seen fit to obey her new general’s command. She had convinced four other commanders to join her in what must be an insurrection.

“So that was the G’deon,” said Taram, as they walked back from the death field. “She does look like Cadmar.”  Ellid and Gilly had managed to herd him so he ended up beside Clement, where he could no longer avoid speaking to her.

The smoke from the pyres lifted up in columns that must have been visible for miles around.

Clement said, “She also has his temper.”

“Is it because she’s like him that you were so willing to accept her rule?”

After two steps Taram added grudgingly, “—General.”

Clement still did not speak. She was weary of trying to convince these rock-headed people both that there had been no choice but to accept peace, and that peace was a good choice. She was weary of such contradictions, sick of having to do what she did not want, tired of the whole bloody mess:
Loss. Betrayal. Hopelessness.

“Why doesn’t she fight us if she’s so strong?” Taram asked.

“Bloody hell, have you entirely lost your imagination? Can’t you see that a person who needs no weapons is invincible? Can’t you see how fortunate we are that she doesn’t want to fight?”

“
Fortunate!”

Well, she had goaded him into overt anger, at least. “You think I’m a coward?” she asked.

“Anyone who’s fought beside you knows how you hate to fight! But it was your lack of vainglory that made you a great commander. You took care of your people, and you didn’t let their lives be wasted. But now you have commanded every soldier in my garrison—in the entire country—to lie helpless and exposed to our enemy!”

“I commanded you to disarm because the Shaftali proved their honor to me right here in Watfield, where not one soldier has been harmed. Now your garrison is just as vulnerable, and your soldiers, too, are unharmed. Tell me, Taram, what will it take to convince you of their determination to win our trust? Perhaps I’ve become stupid, but you have become even more stupid.”

“I’ve become a commander,” Taram said, sounding very stupid indeed.

She looked at him, but she could no longer remember their friendship. He was the most likely of all of them to turn, according to Norina, but Clement couldn’t think of what it would take to change one man’s mind, even a man who had been her friend, as Heras had once been.

“You know better than anyone how little I wanted my last promotion,” she said. “So instead of standing in the road preventing all of us from going forward, why don’t you offer to be general? I’d vote for you.”

“Bloody hell, Clem—” Taram began. But she walked away from them all, not even bothering to signal Gilly or Ellid. She would never escape—eventually they would find her.

Chapter 5

The dawn bells rang. Clement had scarcely slept, and as she walked with the grim garrison commanders through the sleepy city to Travesty, only Gabian, chortling inside her coat, seemed happy. Earlier, when he suckled his bottle beside the fire, she had gazed into his eyes, but her baby’s peacefulness and joy did not infect her. Surely child rearing made taking the long view more natural to Shaftali, but for her it required effort—an effort that seemed only more taxing with every passing day. Today, all across Shaftal, people would celebrate the first council meeting of this land’s resurrected government. But for Clement it could only be another dreadful day.

Gilly walked at her elbow, sometimes missing a step, for he was still learning how to walk straight-backed. Ellid marched at her other side, also silent, having dutifully tried and failed to engage Clement in a practical conversation. Taram kept five commanders between himself and Clement, yet his silence pressed between her shoulder blades like a sword’s point.

At Travesty, arriving councilors and departing night-watch volunteers so crowded the entry that Clement despaired of getting in the door. But the Paladin commander spotted them, and in a moment ten Paladins had politely but firmly cleared the crowd and then stood on either side of the path, greeting the arriving garrison commanders in Sainnese as they passed. “Good morning, General Clement,” said Saleen, at the top of the stairs.

She took his hand. “Commander Saleen, I was just thinking that you people can’t sensibly organize yourselves.”

“Then you will be many times surprised today,” he said. In Sainnese. Like Zanja, Saleen seemed to have the fire talent for languages. He had made it his mission to learn Sainnese and seemed to be constantly teaching whatever he learned to the Paladins in his command.

As Clement’s party entered the door, children hurried forward with towels to dry their boots, then a line of young people divested them of their coats. Saleen led the way to the big parlor, where Emil stood casually, sipping tea by the hearth. Immediately, a crowd of people paraded in to serve breakfast, and Clement’s companions, lured by the promise of sweet pastries and hot tea, abandoned her.

“Good morning, Emil,” said Clement, and Gabian uttered a joyful yelp.

Emil picked up a tray of pastries from a nearby table and offered it to her. “Will you eat something, Clement? You’ll be wanting to be fortified.”

“I fight better on an empty stomach.”

Emil set down the tray. “Do you think this day will be so—” He fell silent, riveted by something that appeared to have just come in the door.

Clement turned. The woman at the door was dressed in a surcoat of heavy embroidered silk, in a blue that exactly matched here eyes. The draping fabric parted when she moved, revealing trousers and under-tunic of shimmering purple. She lifted an arm, corralling Garland, the cook, in the doorway. The fabric, drawn back, revealed her muscular forearm. “What’s become of our humble G’deon?” murmured Emil.

“It’s only pastries!” Clement heard Garland protest, and then he escaped. Karis turned, noticed their stares, and joined them, saying grumpily, “What?”

“You combed your hair,” said Emil blandly.

“Give me that baby, will you, Clement? Maybe he’ll spit up on me.”

Emil hastily flung a napkin across Karis’s shoulder. Karis glared at him, but then smiled sweetly at the baby as Clement put him in her arms. “Greetings, little brother. What nonsense all this is!”

“I understand your commanders are being difficult,” said Emil to Clement.

“Five are missing entirely and haven’t provided an explanation.”

“I know. I should hear from Wilton soon—I have people watching the garrison, and they can get me a message by the ice road in a matter of days.”

Clement felt an uprush of anger. “You’re spying on my garrisons?”

“Now, General, don’t bristle at me. I trust you—it’s Heras I’m worried about.”

Of course. The first year Heras commanded Wilton garrison, Emil had still been commander of South Hill company. Medric had served directly under Heras, and Zanja under Emil. The razing of South Hill had scarred and educated all three of them.

Gabian, apparently fascinated by the crisp, shimmering fabric of Karis’s clothing, grasped a fold and endeavored to drool upon it. Emil intervened, then said to Clement, “Does Heras think she should be general? Is this an insurrection?”

“Of course she thinks she should be general. She’s astute, decisive, uncompromising, and doesn’t suffer from divided loyalties. She’d be a better general than I would be.”

“She’s manipulative, ruthless, and closed minded!”

“She has all sorts of admirable qualities.”

“Oh, you’re being sarcastic,” said Emil with relief.

Fortunately, Norina and her law students were busy elsewhere, for surely it would have been obvious to an air witch that Clement’s statements had been more truthful than Emil seemed to think.

“This baby of yours is not cooperating,” said Karis, whose astonishing outfit remained unstained. “Clem, this Heras had better remember that it’s not you she is opposing, but me. And I’m not much impressed by bullies now that I am one myself.”

Emil choked on a swallow of tea.

“And am I just your puppet?” Clement said. “No, never mind—I know what I am.”

Karis began to reply. “Tomorrow’s problem,” Emil said.

“Tomorrow’s problems are accumulating,” said Karis. “What is wrong with that seer?”

“Maybe Zanja can do something with him.”

They exchanged serious glances, and Clement felt a moment’s pity for them. Then Emil said, “If you won’t eat, Clement, then perhaps you will introduce me to the commanders, as I missed my opportunity to meet them yesterday.”

Emil exercised his geniality on the commanders, with great brilliance but little effect. Clement delivered Gabian to a parlor that now was a playroom, where Leeba officiously instructed several children in the rules they all must follow. Then she and her commanders followed Emil and Karis into what she remembered as a vast, echoing, very cold room at the back of the monstrous building. But now its floors had been muffled with carpets of many sizes and colors; it was filled with chairs of many styles and heights, and the fire that had probably been blazing in the fireplace since before dawn had made it somewhat less chilly. People milled nervously through the space, talking to each other and staring about as though they feared they’d miss something. Clement caught herself wondering when these soldiers’ captains would get them to quiet down and line up.

But a hush fell as Karis made her way to the front and sat down. Norina, Medric, and J’han had already gathered there, and now Zanja arrived and said something to Emil while shaking her head slightly—bad news about Medric? Then Zanja approached the chairs, said something to Karis that made her glance down at her outfit with an expression of despair, and settled on her heels at Karis’s feet. People were finding seats, and Clement led her rigid, silent contingent to the row of chairs behind Karis. Gilly had joined the officious clerks crowded around a big table. On a second, smaller table lay a very big book, which Clement recognized as the Law of Shaftal, and a plain box of beautiful wood within which was preserved the original handwritten manuscript of Mackapee’s
Principles of Community
. Between them lay a handwritten, much-corrected, and overwritten stack of paper—Emil’s speech, apparently finished so late that there had been no time to recopy it.

Emil stood at the table, facing the murmuring room. “Norina Truthken will open this assembly,” he said.

Why would the least likable be the first one to speak? And Norina’s topic could not have been less interesting. Standing by the Law of Shaftal, she asserted her own status as a Truthken, and made various declarations about the lawfulness of the assembly, the legitimacy of the oaths already taken, and the verity of Karis’s claim to her position. She asserted that Emil was properly named and confirmed as head councilor, and that all decisions agreed to by this body would become law.
Norina is the law,
thought Clement in surprise,
and the law is what leads them. Not Emil—not even Karis
!

“Madam Truthken!” It was a voice from the midst of the councilors.
Everyone turned, startled.

Norina said, “Please stand and state your name when you speak.”

The man leapt to his feet and said he was Jerem, a Midlander. He planted himself with his feet apart, as if braced for a fight. “Madam Truthken, I disagree with your conclusion that this assembly is lawful. For the Law of Shaftal does not permit the presence and participation of alien interlopers in the governance of Shaftal!”

“There are no alien interlopers present.”

Norina spoke so flatly that it took a moment for people to realize what she had said. Then a dozen outraged people leapt to their feet. They started shouting at the tops of their voices: The Sainnites were murderers, thieves, destroyers, and parasites; they were stupid, oblivious, crass, and oppressive. They were mindlessly, pointlessly, persistently violent; they were beyond redemption; and they were aliens. Emil remained impassively silent, and Norina gazed coolly, not quite contemptuously, at the shouting people.

The room quieted. Still, Norina gazed at the councilors. A restlessness took over the room, and people began to glance about anxiously.

Norina turned her gaze to Clement.
Bloody hell!
Clement thought.

“General Clement, please explain by what right you and your people
are present.”

But Karis was already standing. “The Sainnites of Shaftal are Shaftali.” Her hoarse, smoke-shattered voice could not carry far in that vast space, but the garrison commanders certainly had heard her, for there was a rustle of surprised movement among them.

“The Sainnites of Shaftal are Shaftali,” Norina said. “Therefore, the Sainnites are entitled to the rights and protection of the law.”

The angry Midlander, still on his feet, cried, “By what principle?”

“The declarations of the G’deon will be accepted as fact, without debate, objection, or confirmation, as you well know, Jerem of the Midlands.”

“The law must be changed, then.” The man looked pugnaciously around himself at the openmouthed people who now stared at him. “We can do that,” he said to them.

Norina said, “Yes, the councilors of Shaftal may eliminate the G’deon’s right, if they are willing to forego her power and protection, as well.”

Karis looked directly at Jerem. So she had looked at Cadmar, when she gave him the choice he was too stupid and arrogant to perceive as an ultimatum.

Jerem, glowering, sat down. Clement felt the shifting among her commanders again, and for the first time in days she could believe, if just for a moment, that there was hope for her people.

There were no more objections. Norina gestured to Emil, who seemed not merely unruffled, but serene as he touched his fingertips to the tabletop and began to speak. “On Long Night, Karis G’deon pierced me with Responsibility, and then asked me to head a new Council of Shaftal. I could neither have accepted the responsibility nor taken the oath if not for my confidence that I was not expected to do this task alone. From that first day, my companions included Sainnites, and I am grateful to them for teaching me to avoid heedless statements about who these Sainnites are, and what they are capable of.”