Rudolfo nodded but said nothing. Sometimes telling an entire truth could put one at a disadvantage.
We will all know the truth soon enough, he thought.
He rode back to his men, signing his instructions to them from the saddle. He saw their downcast, angry eyes but knew his orders would hold. Had Gregoric been here, perhaps it would’ve been different. Perhaps his old friend would’ve read Rudolfo’s intentions underneath the hand signs and nonverbal cues and refused to obey.
But Gregoric was four hundred leagues distant, watching that curious old man and his entourage of diggers.
As his Gypsy Scouts vanished back down the road, away from the Papal Summer Palace, Rudolfo brushed the dust from his cloak, straightened his turban and rode to the gate.
“I am Lord Rudolfo of the Ninefold Forest Houses,” he said to an Old Gray Guard captain waiting there. “I am General Rudolfo of the Wandering Army. I would parley with your Pope Resolute the First, Displaced King of Windwir and Holy See of the Androfrancine Order.”
When they b‹an' Androught forth irons for his wrists and feet, Rudolfo smiled and offered himself up to them.
Sethbert
Lord Sethbert, Overseer of the Entrolusian City States, took his breakfast in the late morning sun. He speared the pickled asparagus with a small golden fork and lifted it to his mouth.
General Lysias stood before him, and Sethbert made a point of not inviting him to sit. “Well, Lysias,” he said, talking with his mouth full. “What word today?”
Sethbert swallowed the asparagus and washed it with chilled coffee, cooled in the river three leagues west and brought in to him by runner on demand.
The old general looked well rested finally. But there hadn’t been much for the old bugger to do of late. The Wandering Army had vanished four days ago. Their tents had come down in the dark, and by sunrise the field they’d occupied was barren. Of course Lysias had sent in the scouts, but none had returned. They found their bodies hidden in the wood the following morning.
“A patrol found scout-sign last night,” Lysias said. “They’re good-but not so good to have covered their tracks entirely. Regardless, there aren’t many of them.”
Sethbert smiled, selecting a slightly larger fork to stab a large slab of beef and raise it to his mouth. He tore a bit off with his teeth and chewed it down to meat pulp before speaking. “Rudolfo’s a clever fox,” he said. “He means to keep an eye on me.”
“I suspect so, though they’re staying near the city. Which brings me to another matter.”
Sethbert felt his eyebrows arch. “Yes?”
“We still have the matter of the trespassers to resolve.”
Sethbert laughed, bits of meat spraying the table. “Still digging their graves?”
Lysias nodded. “They’ve not violated the Exercise of Holiness… yet.”
Sethbert nodded. “Another clever fox. What do you know of this Petros?”
Lysias shrugged. “Not much. After he left with the boy, he went to Kendrick and held some kind of council there with the townsfolk. Most that came back with him were refugees and traders with no real destination beyond Windwir.”
Sethbert shook his head. “And he means to bury them all?”‹‹_hei/p›
“All that he can, Lord,” Lysias said. “Scouts to the west and south say word is spreading and more are on their way.”
The sun had moved in a way to obscure the general’s face, but for a moment Sethbert thought he saw admiration painted upon it. “I should speak to him,” Sethbert said.
“I’m not sure that would be prudent, Lord.”
“Perhaps not prudent,” Sethbert said, “but at least proper. I do have guardianship of Windwir for the time.” He loved the irony of those words. He wondered what his cousin, Oriv, would think if he knew the entire truth? Or if he realized the intricate puppetry that had spared this new Pope the fate of Windwir? Sethbert had paid a small fortune to ensure his mother’s sister’s firstborn son was safely away before he shook the cage of Heaven and taunted down the anger of the Gods.
“If my Lord wishes,” Lysias said, “we could ride out this afternoon.”
Sethbert nodded. “That would be fine, General.” He sipped from the chilled coffee. “Is there more?”
Lysias looked uncomfortable. “Word of your-” he struggled to find the right word to say “-
Sethbert laughed. “Why should I be? Call the camp together and I’ll tell them all gladly.
Lysias was a conservative, Sethbert knew, relying on the control of information as a part of his wartime strategy. Academy trained, this old veteran was brilliant at his work but shackled to a way of doing things that no longer mattered.
Because of me, Sethbert thought, smiling.
The general gritted his teeth. “I thought you understood, Lord Sethbert, the importance of discretion in this matter.”
Sethbert waved his words away. “The rumors are inconsequential. Let me show you.” He clapped and a servant entered. “Which one are you?” Sethbert asked.
The servant bowed. “I am Geryt, Lord.”
“Geryt, do you believe I destroyed the city of Windwir with one of the Androfra‹of 0emncines’s metal playthings?”
The servant looked from Sethbert to Lysias, obviously unsure of how to answer.
“Well?” Sethbert said.
Pale-faced, the servant finally spoke. “I’ve heard such, Lord Sethbert, even from your own lips.”
“Yes,” Sethbert said slowly, leaning forward, “but do you believe it?”
The eyes came up and locked with Sethbert’s. “I do not know what to believe, Lord Sethbert.”
Sethbert smiled and sat back, waving the servant away. “My point exactly, General Lysias. No one knows what to believe. One will believe Sethbert speaks the truth, another will say that it is madness to believe one man could bring down a city.” His smile widened. “And some will even believe it was that damnable Gypsy King.”
Lysias nodded, but the dark look in his eyes told Sethbert that the general didn’t agree. It didn’t matter. The old general certainly was right, but Sethbert couldn’t tell him so. Sethbert had been a bit too vocal when he’d first seen the fruit of his labor. The pillar of smoke, the blasted city, even the look of utter desolation on that Androfrancine boy’s face had been the most potent of liquors, driving him giddy with accomplishment.
After all, he thought, who wouldn’t feel a bit drunk after saving the world?
Jin Li Tam
Jin Li Tam sat outside her small tent with Isaak, picking at the bowl of steamed rice and dried vegetables while she listened to the scouts talk in low voices.
So far, they’d encountered nothing but scattered groups of Androfrancines making their way north. They’d moved off the roads to avoid them, and she was grateful that Isaak had permitted this. A part of her had feared he’d wish to join them.
But he hadn’t.
And part of her had thought perhaps he’d not tolerate their need to make camp, to take food, to take sleep along the way.
But he’d quietly acquiesced.
“You don’t want to go back,” she told him between bites.
He looked over to her. He’d pulled back his hood, and the last of the sunlight glinted off his round head. “I am a danger to them,R‹er ew 21; he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I am a danger to the entire world.”
She’d put as many of the pieces together as she could, and out of respect-if a machine could be shown respect-she’d not pressed for more. But now, just two days away from the Papal Summer Palace and Gods knew
