Neb had never seen anyone lie so quickly, so competently before. He studied the old man’s face, looking for some tick that would betray him. Not cetrie hing.
He realized Sethbert was speaking to him, and looked up.
“Is this man your grandfather?”
Looking at the old man, he realized he’d seen him before. In the Great Library… but where? It hadn’t been so long ago, either. Or perhaps he looked like someone else-someone well known to him. But why would he lie to Sethbert, creating an elaborate story about a grandson and a dead mother?
Their eyes met and the old man raised his eyebrows. “Well, Del? Are you going to answer the Overseer?”
Slowly, Neb nodded once, then twice.
“And you did not actually see the city of Windwir fall?”
Looking at the old man again, Neb felt a stab of memory. The fire, the lightning, ash falling like snow on the ruined landscape. The screaming, hot wind that blasted out from Windwir, the ships burning and sinking in the river even as they cast off their lines to drift south.
Neb shook his head.
Sethbert scowled. He leaned in to the boy, his voice cold and hollow. “I should teach you to be more truthful.”
“I intend to do just that, Lord,” the old man said with a firm voice. “Though I’m sure he was just confused. These are dark days for all of us.”
Neb wasn’t sure what to expect next, but a scout signaled Sethbert, and the Overseer motioned him closer. Sethbert looked once more at Neb and then at the old man.
“You were bound for Kendrick when my men took you?”
The old man nodded. Neb knew Kendrick. It was a small town not too far south of Windwir. He’d been to it a few times on various errands. “I thought there might be survivors there.”
Sethbert nodded. “I find it odd that you did not tell my men about your missing lad.”
The old man went pale and stammered for a moment. “I beg your forgiveness, Lord. I heard fighting the night before and I was uncertain of how much to say.”
The Overseer smiled. “These are, as you say, dark days.”
The old man nodded.
“What is your name then?”
“I am called Petros.” It was a common name, the name of P’Andro Whym’s indentured man, the one who had served the scientist-scholar beyond the terms of his agreement and had been named in one of the gospels as the greatest of the least.
Again, Sethbert squinted. Neb did, too. Even the name seemed familiar.
There was a fluttering, and a gray bird dropped heavily onto the arm of Sethbert’s chair.
A winded bird-keeper raced beneath the tent. “Apologies, Lord Sethbert, but this one refused our net.”
Neb saw the markings on the bird, but they were unfamiliar. Sethbert waved the bird-keeper off. Instead, the Overseer hefted the bird, pulled its message pouch himself and unrolled the small script. As he read it, his face grew red and his eyes grew narrow.
He looked up at them again. “I’m afraid I’ve pressing matters to attend to.” He paused. “You’re free to go… but no farther than Kendrick. I may have other questions of you.”
But Neb was fairly certain he would not. Sethbert’s interest in him had been the story of Windwir’s fall. No doubt so that he could bask in his handiwork.
For a moment, he considered opening his mouth, somehow protesting this turn of events. Certainly, this old man Petros had some reason for the lies. Neb might have thought him mad, but he’d seen the hardness in the bright blue eyes and could see that the old man was playing Sethbert like a Marsh whistle. That and the familiar face and the familiar name were enough for Neb to know that he would have to figure out how to kill Sethbert another time.
As they walked out from under the canopy, he felt the pressure on his shoulder shift, and realized the old man had been speaking the entire time. His fingers, moving ever so slightly, had been tapping a message out into his shoulder. Of course, Neb didn’t know what it meant. He’d just started nonverbal language training this last year. If the school had not been destroyed, he’d have been at least competent by the end of his last year.
Once they were out of earshot, Petros leaned over. “I’ve just saved you from a foolish path.”
And suddenly Neb knew where he’d seen this man’s face before. Certainly, he was older and larger now… and dressed quite differently. But this old man bore a striking resemblance to a portrait Neb had walked under a thousand times in the Hall of the Holy Sees in the Western Wing of the Great Library, where the faces of the Popes gazed down from the walls with sober faces, careworn faces. The second newest painting-hung ne c_thext to Introspect’s-was the only face that smiled, though it was slight.
Of course, it couldn’t be. That man had been dead for over thirty years.
Chapter 9
Rudolfo
Rudolfo spent the day with his captains directing intelligence skirmishes on the Entrolusian advance camps. The first battle had cost the Overseer six young officers and one seasoned master sergeant along with a host of infantry. They’d also accounted for a half-squad of Sethbert’s elite Delta scouts, though there could’ve been more. It was hard to tell until the magicks wore down.
A good first battle. And he had a bird this morning from House Li Tam. Vlad Li Tam’s iron armada steamed for the Delta now and would blockade the mouths of the Three Rivers. It was a small armada, but even small it could easily handle the City States’ navy. The Androfrancines had seen to that, not wanting the bank that stored such a significant percentage of their wealth to be unprotected. And the Li Tam shipbuilders had been the only shipbuilders that could build the iron ships, even with the specifications the Androfrancines had reconstructed from the ruins of the First World.
House Li Tam’s engagement was a start, nothing more. Rudolfo knew that the Emerald Coasts had no foot soldiers or cavalry to spare. They would keep what they had near home, knowing that the City States had more to contend with than the three brigades that had ridden north to Windwir.
But the armada would help. And as word spread, others would join. Rudolfo couldn’t imagine any of the Named Lands entering the war on the side of the Entrolusians. He’d already sent a dozen birds to a dozen lords, careful to use words like The Desolation of Windwir and This War of Entrolusian Aggression. Even those who hated the Androfrancines-and there were few who did-would not be able to find common ground with someone who had burned away that city’s knowledge. Those few who sneered at the ancient Order did so out of jealousy. Rudolfo had no doubt that they’d have killed the Androfrancines, too, without a moment’s hesitation. But they would never have touched the library.
For two thousand years, the Androfrancines had built that library, storing knowledge dug from the ashes of the Old World. The wonders they’d dared share with the world-the scraps they’d doled out carefully over time-were amazing to behold. But who knew what wonders they’d kept hidden away, knowing that the world was not yet ready? Who knew what wonders they had yet to sell as humanity grew out of another adolescence, when its adulthood was cut short by the Third Cataclysm known as the Age of Laughing Madness.
For a moment he t fp›‹ least='least' isaak,='Isaak,' inside='inside' innocence='innocence' in='in' immediate='immediate' hoped='hoped' himself.='himself.' him='him' held.='held.' held='held' head='head' having='having' had='had' fondness='fondness' felt='felt' extraordinary='extraordinary' despite='despite' counterparts='counterparts' bring='bring' between='between' been='been' back='back' at='at' androfrancine='Androfrancine' an='an' acolyte.='acolyte.'›
It had been an easy decision.
Now Gregoric nudged him. “Here they come, General.”
Rudolfo looked, and down the ridge from them he saw the grass bending back as something-or several
