There is a tendency among the politically-inclined to be rcenary in matters of friendship and alliance, coldly-calculating where other n would feel the bond of fellowship. I maintain that not only is this practice abhorrent, it works against the aims of its adherents in the end.
In practice a friendship differs very little from its political equivalent; in both instances one is expected to support their friends, to engage in reciprocity and altruism, to value their needs and wants when making decisions. The sole apparent difference is that in a political friendship, there is the expectation that a twist of circumstance may dissolve the bond as though it never existed.
I have never seen the utility of such a practice. n of principle should not dissemble where friendship is concerned. Love your fellow man unreservedly, with no thought of betrayal or deception in your heart. Support your friends even to your own detrint, that your strength might be tested to its utmost. And if circumstance demands that you act against those you hold dear - weep, kiss their brow, and drive the knife in from the front.
- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687
The next day found Michael sitting on a log overlooking a adow; the far side of the clearing bore a simple dirt road that hugged the treeline until it vanished once more into the forest. It was empty of travelers - for now.
Michael sighed and tilted his head upward. I thought you said they were nearly here? he muttered.
They were, Sobriquets voice replied, sounding nettled. Im not responsible for the pace of their travel. If you want to go down and see if one of them broke a bootlace, go right ahead.
Ill let them figure it out on their own, Michael sighed. What of the other groups?
Also waiting. Charles and Unai might make contact before you do if your target delays much longer; Zabalas group will probably engage last. She paused. By a fair margin, Id say. If your engagent goes quickly, you can perhaps link up with their group before the fighting starts.
Id say Id hope it does, but that would an that this is yet another decoy, Michael sighed. All right. Ill let you know if there are any surprises.
He massaged the bridge of his nose, leaning forward on the log. It was icebound, and should have been manifestly uncomfortable as a bench; it was another hidden benefit of his potens soul that he could rest comfortably in any circumstance. The crunch of snow drew his eyes upwards; he saw Lars approaching.
Any news? Lars asked.
Michael shook his head. Nobodys engaged yet. Not that it matters. I dont expect that well find Luc in the vanguard, but every decoy we strike makes him easier to find, in the end. Moot point if Sibyl can help, of course, but Im not going to rely on her aid even after she offers it.
Fair enough, Lars said, leaning against a tree. Better for the lads to be engaged with productive work than idling around my fathers house; as entertaining as it would be to see them break all of his hunting trophies out of boredom, we should probably refrain.
Ghars bones, I had determined not to say anything, Michael groaned. But theres really no end to them, is there? I had to sleep with a damned rabbit staring at from the bedside table. Who takes a rabbit for a trophy?
Lars chucked, taking off his cap to run fingers through his hair. Its sothing of a mania with the old man, he said. Sport is a proud Ardan tradition, everyone will agree - but most of the old guard in the Assembly arent actually all that fond of traipsing around in the woods. They like the idea of hunting more than the practice, and its a dirty secret that none of them will admit to for fear of seeming soft and unmanly.
Its true, Michael chuckled, thinking of his own fathers profound distaste for the outdoors. I expect half the assembly can barely sit a horse. Of course, Im among that number; I shouldnt judge too harshly. He shook his head. I begin to see the sense of it. He invites important partners up to the lodge, then?
And makes them feel like theyre the softest dandy that ever wore silk, Lars confird. I expect that its one of his most cherished pasttis. Quite counterproductive, though, as it makes people disinclined to associate with him further. I stand as a case in point. He tapped his chest, his smile turning wry.
I can sympathize. Michael stood up, brushing chips of ice from his trousers. Is he in Korbel now, do you think?
Lars shrugged. Havent the slightest idea. He wrote twice in my ti on the continent, once to tell my sister had married, and again to congratulate on my captaincy. I dont expect hell be eager to be seen with now that Im a deserter. He blinked, considering. And likely a traitor, though he doesnt know that part yet. Hell be very disappointed when he learns I surrendered rather than dying in a heroic defense of Is.
If you see him again, be sure to let him know that hes the very model of an Assemblyman, Michael said. Truly, hes outdone himself.
I can almost see the look on his face, yes. Lars put one foot up on a stump, gesturing grandly. Father, Ive returned. Your son the faithless rcenary, traitor to Ardalt - but heres Michael Baumgart! He let his arm drop. Poor fool wouldnt know what to make of it. He idolizes your old man, you know.
Michael looked up. Youre pulling my leg.
Stand in front of a verifex, its true. He always was enamored of the Klingefraktion in the Assembly, nevermind that theyre the ones least likely to admit an upstart rchant from Korbel into their ranks. Old Carolus in the Rabesfraktion probably would have seated him if he hadnt been so intent on impressing the old guard. Lars waggled his fingers. He was beside himself with joy when I got a scalptor soul. Said it was the key to greatness.
And he thought that would get him in with my fathers faction? Michael said. Scalptors are everywhere. If anything, my father always voted against seating more of them because he didnt want a more powerful scalptor than himself in the chamber. The Klingefraktion only cares for Sever.
Lars spread his hands helplessly. I believe my sister tried to tell him that at least twice; I never tried, because I knew he wouldnt listen.
Well, any ti you need to throw your social weight around, let know, Michael chuckled. As my father apparently never got around to disowning , and nobody here seems to have heard what weve been up to on the continent. I had assud Id be a criminal in Ardalt. As it happens, only the Institute wanted to find . The rest of the governnt apparently couldnt care less.
There was a silence after that, rather more lancholy than Michael had intended it to be; he was surprised at how much that truth stung, even now. Certainly his father could have sent envoys, and he likely knew of Michaels exploits despite the publics ignorance - but there had been nothing.
Lars opened his mouth to speak, then paused. He turned toward the adow, squinting, then nodded. And with impeccable timing, thatd be our target.
Michael sent his sight over to peer at the small group of n who had erged from the treeline. There were a scant dozen of them: two obruors, eight ragged soldiers and two more n who Michael presud were the decoy teams lucigentes.
He dropped his head and sighed. Not him. Michael worked his shoulder around, preparing to run towards the distant group; Lars tapped him on the back.
Let us take this one, eh? he said. Itd do the lads so good to put in work for a change, else theyll get rusty.
Nonplussed, Michael nodded.
Lars turned and walked a few paces over to where the rest of his team sat. All right, gentlen, he said. Lord Baumgart has asked if wed mind routing that crew of misfits over there. Theyll draw within a hundred paces, Id say; well set up by those rocks. Ill target the obruors in back. Herschel, Richter, take the lucigentes ahead of them. Arn, Brant, the n in front. Fire at will after your primary targets are down. Clear?
There was a chorus of nods and muttered affirmations; Michael watched as the n took their positions next to a jutting spur of snow-covered rock. He took a closer look at the Institute team while they approached, shifting his sight down towards the soldiers faces.
They were a horrific sight, mottled with frostbite and blood. One mans nose was black and waxen on his face, anothers ear ended in a ragged fringe of rotting flesh. In the back, one of the n hobbled along with a clear injury to his foot, though he made no sign of pain.
Behind them, the four ensouled walked with their heads down against the slight breeze, hands stuffed into pockets. There was no warning; Michael heard the faintest rustle of cloth as Lars began the attack. Two thin coin-slot marks appeared on the obruors foreheads. They dropped instantly.
The n they had controlled trudged onward, uncaring. The lucigentes spun at the noise of falling bodies, only to join them a mont later as bullets struck them in the chest. More fire tore into the shuffling soldiers, dropping one and wounding another.
Most did not react, obeying their last command slavishly until bullets found them. One man near the rear of the column stopped, though, his rifle dropping from limp fingers. Drool hung from a slack mouth, and his head slowly pivoted to face the noise of the guns, uncomprehending-
Then he, too, fell. Michael jogged out to the fallen, reaching down to brush his fingers over any that still drew breath. The n stilled under his touch, sighing, relaxing into the embrace of the snow beneath them.
There was a sheaf of papers in an obruors coat, though it contained nothing they could not have already guessed - the scouting team was to assess the road to Korbel, and to let the lucigentes participate visibly in any combat.
Michael turned to see Lars walking unhurriedly across the snow behind him, the n in tow. He nudged one of the obruors with a boot. I thought you said you had a weak scalptor soul, Michael said. You caught two targets dead-center in the forehead at that distance, I think youre not giving yourself enough credit.
Im rather useless against anything armored, Lars demurred. But I didnt get into the Swordsn on my dashing looks and dubious family connections alone.
Richters head ca up. You paid a bribe, too?
Lars frowned. Well, naturally. But it was rather less than it should have been.
Michael chuckled and turned aside. Sera? How are we doing?
Charles and Unai took down a decoy group as well, she said. Zabala is waiting for his, still. You might be able to make it if you hurry - north-northeast, past that tall tree and over the next ridge.
Got it. Michael turned to Lars. Head back. Well likely catch up halfway.
He was off before Lars could do more than nod in response, snow kicking up from his feet as he broke into a full run. For a span of ti there was only the muffled sound of footfalls in snow, the gentle creaking of trees shifting from his path, and the slow cadence of his breath. Before he ca into sight of the others, though, he heard gunfire from beyond the trees.
Michael cursed and sent his sight up, looking for Zabalas group. A flash of light drew his attention; he saw Zabala and five of the n dashing across a field towards a larger Institute group. The obruors had fallen, as had a handful of their enthralled soldiers, but there were three more ensouled among their number.
One, a lucigens, scythed a thin ray of light across the charging n; Zabala glared back, his soul spread in abject denial. The beam played across the soldiers, leaving no more than mild scorchmarks on clothing, their charge unhindered. Two more of the Institutes ensouled t them with shattering punches - potentes, by the power behind them, but not particularly strong ones. Zabalas protection was proof against the blows.
The ndiko captain shot the lucigens in the face, then twice again in the chest; the rest of his n paired off against the potentes. There was another flare, this ti from Voss, his hand clamped over his opponents face for an agonizingly long count as the potens seized, twitching - then slumped; when his head struck the ground it shattered into icy chunks.
Zabala finished off the remaining unensouled n, who were milling around uncertainly in the wake of their obruors death, while his subordinates forced the last potens down, jamd a rifle barrel into his eye-
Michael let his sight drift back; he didnt need to see the end of the fight. The sound of the last shot echoed past him as he turned and began to run back towards the hunting lodge.
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