I received a curious report today; it details a request from Ardalt to submit one of their ensouled for tutelage here in ndian. Curious for two reasons - the first, that they would ask such a thing; the second, that we should entertain it for even an instant. Yet the third curiosity makes the rest fall into place.
Ardalt has found the Gardener. They seem to have grasped the edges of it, from the tone of their request, but they do not na him as such, nor as Stanza. I am not too surprised - their history reveres Ghar, and the notable example of the early Gharic poet-general Leo Artabasdos as its wielder has done much to cent the image of the Gardener as a soul of grand conflict in the Ardan mind. Saf cannot provide contrast; they are further-constrained by their parables of the Caller, to the extent that most Safid bearers rit little more than a historical footnote.
The bearer of this soul has not been known with any certainty since Ibn the Caller died in 562. Whether it has been with one or many bearers since his death is unknown and largely unimportant. That the soul is here, now, ans that ndian has the chance to shape it in its infancy.
Perhaps it is arrogance on my part to think that I might alter the future of the continent and its ongoing war. I am still so new to this soul, this gift and curse that has upended my life. I do not know how much impact I might have against the tides of history and culture this man has been steeped in, nor what that impact might translate to in terms of the broader conflict.
But I do know that if I do nothing, Saf will control the continent. This is one of very few opportunities we have to intervene without casting away the increasingly-rusty shield of our neutrality. I will accept their request to teach Jeorg Dreschner what the Gardener could be, given the proper will. I hope he is the man we need him to be.
- Leire Gabarain, Annals of the Sixteenth Star, 649.
He did not have to wait long; Saleh ca alone to their quarters just after dawn. For Michael it was as if the sun had risen twice. He had managed only scant sleep. Swiping a hand over his eyes, he walked out into the central room a second behind Vernon - and Luc, to his mild surprise.
Good morning, Saleh said cheerfully, gesturing to a fresh basket of bread, another of fruit and a small carafe of sothing wafting fragrant steam. He smoothed his heavy white robes and sat, taking a small portion from each and laying a hand upon the carafe; light blurred for a mont and brought with it a renewed waft of steam from the beverage.
Michael sat and helped himself. Good morning, he replied. I hope dealing with our transport didnt keep you up too late?
Saleh stifled a cough, sipping at the steaming drink; so sort of tea, by the taste. There is no late or early where matters of purpose are concerned, he said. But to answer your question like a sane man - no, it was not difficult. We do not lack for carts or horses here, and I have my most trusted friend arranging for your rail transport. She will guide you across the Esroun border, and see that you arrive safely.
Do you anticipate our safety being an issue? Michael asked.
We are in the War, young Caller, Saleh chuckled. Considering the situation I would be concerned even if I did not have my sources within the Institute. Since I do, I will tell you that they have not abandoned hope of stopping you; they have in fact redoubled their efforts in the wake of their failure yesterday.
Predictably unfortunate, Vernon murmured.
Saleh smiled. Any misfortune one may predict is no longer fortune at all, he said. Only the turns in our path. As it stands, I have arranged for so pleasant distractions to keep our Ardan friends occupied. By the ti you reach the border with Esrou it is my hope that they will be well and thoroughly confounded.
Michael nodded, looking over as another door opened; Sobriquet erged from her room to stare inscrutably at Saleh. The robed man smiled back, waving a fruit at her.
After a mont she shook her head and sat, reaching imdiately for the tea. I find myself wondering, she said, if the Great Fla is often accustod to breaking his fast with a mixed lot of Ardans and Daressans.
As a matter of fact, I am not, Saleh replied. Which makes it all the more essential that I do so while I have the opportunity. He took a bite of his fruit and grinned. It may surprise you to learn that many of the faithful are sowhat less than glib when talking to a revered personage such as you or I.
Sobriquet raised her eyebrow. Whyever should that be? she asked. You havent done anything to earn yourself a fearso reputation, have you?
You have . Saleh raised his hands in surrender. But reputations are easily skewed one way or the other. Your own reputation is rather grim, by all accounts. If I were to believe a word of it, then I should be praising you for refraining from patriotic homicide during your visit.
I would likewise praise your restraint in pausing your own patriotic genocide, Sobriquet replied, taking a bite of fruit. Had you done so.
Michael felt a flicker from Saleh at her barb, though the mans smile did not waver.
Ah, Saleh said. The quarrels of yesterday and tomorrow always try to press themselves upon today. I regret your choice of words, of course. We do not force our faith upon others, nor do we deny the people under our rule the freedom to practice their culture as they see fit. He spread his hands, scarred palms upwards. My people know that pain all too well. We are, after all, both speaking Gharic.
Sobriquet leaned back. I would suggest that you visit your people across Daressa, then, she said. From my experiences, many of them would find your tolerant attitude to be novel. She took another bite of the fruit, then finished it, chewing slowly. Perhaps soon. As you say, such opportunities may be unexpectedly fleeting.
There was an extended silence; Michael realized that he had been sitting with a piece of bread halfway to his mouth for so ti. He forced his hand back into motion and took a bite.
Saleh finished the last of his tea and stood, smiling down at the table. I must say, Seeker - the reports do not do you justice. I can only hope our next eting will yield the sa quality of discourse. He smiled and touched his fingers to his lips. And that I am equal to the test.
He turned toward the door, then paused. Oh, I nearly forgot, he said. Great Caller, I had sothing I wanted to give you for your journey. Saleh reached within the folds of his robe and withdrew a small leather-bound book, worn on the edges and soft with years of gentle use. One or two blackened scorchmarks marred the leather, shaped as fingerprints. The Book of Eight Verses. Ive carried this copy for a few years now, and have put down so thoughts of my own in its pages - hopefully they do not prove to be a distraction from its text.
Michael reached out and took the book from Salehs hands. It was warm, as if it had been sitting in the sumr sun. Thank you, he said. I havent had much ti for reading lately. My travels have been - less than relaxing.
Then I shall work all the harder to ensure that this trip affords you ample opportunity to read, Saleh replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Truly, it has been a delight to et you all. Your transport should be here before the tea cools; I wish you swift success on your journey. Caller, Seeker - until we all next et as better n.
He flashed his teeth at them once more and walked out of the room. Again, there was the cool sensation of having turned away from a fire. Michael looked back at Sobriquet and raised his eyebrow. She t his eyes; he felt a complex twist of feeling knife through her. More than ever before, he had the sense that there were things he could say that would leave lasting marks.
I thought we were ant to tread lightly around him? Michael said instead, reaching to refill his cup. You did everything but toss your tea in his face.
She shrugged. I hadnt t him, she said. Every account I heard said that he was ruthless, so I approached him with an overabundance of caution.
You dont think hes ruthless? Michael asked.
Sobriquet snorted a laugh, shaking her head. Oh, hes worse than I thought, she said. But hes also bored out of his shiny bald skull. Hes out here, stuck between mountains and relegated to dimming the lamps every so often so his n can go die gloriously. He could have asked literally anyone in camp to bring us breakfast, but instead he ca himself. He was looking to spar a bit.
If you say so, Michael murmured. He doesnt seem like the sort to forget a slight.
Oh, Im counting on it. Sobriquet said, smiling around a mouthful of bread. Makes him less likely to kill outright in the future, since hell be looking to engage in a little high-stakes banter first. Always easier to take people by surprise when theyre looking for a witty rejoinder.
Michael frowned; he opened his mouth to reply as the remainder of Sobriquets bread hit him in the forehead.
See? she said. I do take him at his word, though, the cart will be here soon. Ill go wake Charles - Vernon, can you rouse Emil?
The auditor nodded and stood; they both walked away from the table. Michael was left alone with Luc, who continued to nurse his tea.
How are you holding up? Michael asked.
Luc looked up from his drink. Cant you tell? he asked.
Michael refrained from wincing at the pointed question. Its less obvious than you might think, he said. Especially when Im not making an effort to listen in. Which Im not. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. Im not him, Luc. I used the soul out of need, and not to harm.
I know, Luc said. I know wed all be dead otherwise, or worse. He stared morosely down into his cup. Its the or worse that worries . To have a soul twist you bit by bit, grafting on little pieces that werent there before. Ive felt it, and I dont- He paused, then looked up at Michael. Even if you dont do it to others, can you really say that its not doing the sa to you? That the soul isnt changing you every mont that you use it?
A silence followed his question, followed by Michael shifting uncomfortably. Its possible, he admitted. But not all changes are bad. Jeorg used to tell that change was inevitable, and that it was only bad if I let it happen thoughtlessly. That the soul has no will of its own, and that by being mindful of our actions we can control the person we beco day by day.
Luc humd softly and looked down at his tea, considering. Was that guidance or a warning? he asked.
How do you an? Michael lifted an eyebrow.
You said before that Jeorg was the one who taught the doctor, Luc replied. And that he hid in the woods after a ti. Stayed there for years. Was the advice he gave you what he did, or what he wished he would have done?
Michael took a sip of his tea - then paused, and took another. Im not sure, he admitted. Jeorg was happy with many things about his life, and unhappy about others. He had a while to consider it, though.
Only because he ran away from the doctor. Luc finished his tea and pushed the mug to the center of the table. If you follow his footsteps, let that soul express its evil as he did - you wont be able to run from it.
Michael watched as Luc turned and went back to his room. It was just as well that he had left, for Michael could not think of a response.
Even with the drivers breakneck speed they did not reach the railroad by the ti night fell. The horses were worked into a lather, and Emil nearly threw the driver by the roadside as he attended to the animals. Michael could feel the grief pulsing off of him as he did so, the echoing mory of his own lost cart.
Sleep evaded him once again. As before he barely slept before waking in the small hours of the morning. He took the book from his pocket once more and flipped it open, wrestling with his spectors sight for a few monts; the fla within him burned, and the dim glow of starlight that fell on the pages lit the words enough that he could read.
He did, until morning ca. Sobriquet rose early and looked at him askance, her eyes lingering on the small booklet.
Were not going to lose you as a convert, are we? she asked.
Michael snorted, then looked around to ensure their escort wasnt in earshot. Not likely. Its just - interesting, to see another perspective on what the Eight should be. There are aspects of each soul that I hadnt considered. That, and Saleh wasnt exaggerating when he said hed written his thoughts - at least a tithe of the words in the book are his.
May I see? Sobriquet asked.
Michael nodded and handed the book to her; as she took it her fingers brushed his. She stiffened. At first Michael was afraid he had hard her, but the accompanying pang of sorrow reminded him that he was still burning Clairs fire to augnt his eyesight. He winced and let it fade, watching the world dim around him.
Sorry, he said.
She shook her head. Dont be. Use it, learn about whatever happened. Keep her close. I think wed both prefer it that way. Her lips bent in a wan smile before she turned to examine the book, paging through it silently for a few monts.
Eventually, she looked up. You know, the Assembly would kill you to get their hands on this book, she said. Personal musings from the strategic mind behind the Safid war effort. Theres a lot of him in these pages, assuming the notes are genuine. They feel genuine, to .
To as well, Michael agreed. It makes wonder why hed give it to .
He said it himself, she replied. So that we are all better, when next we et. Whether thats as one of the faithful or as a test for the faithful - well. I think thats what makes it entertaining for him. To his mind, he wins either way.
Michael shivered; he found the logic to be oddly sinister. Inescapable. It weighed on him as they set off once more, and he nearly refrained from reading the book. In the end, however, he was finding it an insightful read, both for the text and the notes. He was not so petulant that hed deny himself that just to spite Saleh, wary as the man made him.
Unhappily for his plans to read further, however, their travels that morning were short. They arrived at Cora by mid-morning, finding it a sleepy little mountain town that appeared to revolve mostly around the preparation and transport of lumber. Huge stacks of trimd trees sat ready to be loaded onto railcars, while n strained at a hoist to stack yet more of them. The distant whine of saws sounded from beside a river that flowed beside the town. Wood smoke rose from a few places around the periter in thick, pleasant-slling clouds.
Did they bother to give us instructions for the et? Charles asked. How will we know our contact?
Sobriquet humd, her eyes flickering shut for a mont. Theres a single passenger car on a siding, among all the lumber trains. Im assuming thats ant for us. I doubt this town makes much of its coin on sightseeing.
They picked their way through the broad streets and rough buildings of the town, drawing wary glances from workers as they passed. None comnted, although a few made hasty genuflections and averted their eyes - out of caution more than anything, Michael thought, as their faces should not be well-known. As they approached the lone car Michael saw a single person near it, a diminutive woman with short, dark hair. She tilted her face up as they approached.
You look just like I thought youd look, she mused, rising slowly to her feet. There was an odd grace about her movents, a finality to each step she took that resonated in Michaels mind.
Sobriquet stopped and gave a slight nod of her head. I think you have the advantage of us, she said. I assu youre Salehs friend?
He has lots of friends, the woman replied. But Im one of them. She held out her hand lazily, offering it to Sobriquet. Amira.
Sobriquet paused right before touching the womans hand, then gingerly clasped it for a handshake. Amira Ghabbas, I presu, she muttered. This makes a lot more sense now.
Thats my na, the woman agreed, giving Sobriquet a slight smile. And the rest?
Ah, Sobriquet said, still looking a bit off-balance. Charles, Michael, Luc, Vernon and Emil. Im Sobriquet, but I think you knew that. She paused, then gestured to the woman. For those of you that dont recognize the na - Saleh has apparently been generous enough to lend us a prestigious guide. Everyone, this is Amira Ghabbas. Shes better known, however, as the Great Shield, she-who-endures - Sustain.
Amira waved to the group, smiling. Hello, she said. Just Amira is fine.
Reviews
All reviews (0)