I knelt on the damp carpet. “My lord, why should they listen to him?”
San continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “Whether Gio means to build his own stronghold or-more likely-take the Senate I cannot tell; but we must not let him impose any rule on Tris. Mist has sold swords to the Trisians, now Gio can train them. He is a teacher, is he not? He can perform several deeds to ingratiate himself with the Senate: he can hunt down the Insect that you so carelessly set free! Assuming a Trisian has not caught it already. And if a man has, he is more worthy of immortality than all of you!”
“My lord.” I closed my hot and bloodshot eyes for a second, ran my hands over the bangles on my left arm-my pointed nails in a variety of chipped colors. I squeezed water out of a handful of hair and managed to ask, “What will you do?”
San began again in a brisk tone of voice: “Before Gio became the Swordsman, that place in the Circle was for broadsword fighting, not fencing. But my current Swordsman has clearly demonstrated what everybody knows. Rapiers are ineffective against Insects, so immortals should not use them. From now on, Challenges for Serein’s position must be with broadswords or Wrought swords or, taking future improvements into consideration, the most effective blade to kill Insects. Tell Serein that.”
“Yes, my lord.” With a single edict, the Emperor had put an end to the Ghallain School and all its flamboyant sparring. Few people would practice rapier combat if it was not a key to enter the Circle and if there were no successful Eszai to inspire mortals to take up the art. The Morenzian and Plainslands fashion for dueling and wearing rapiers would decline.
San stated, “Now to deal with Gio himself. When he leaves harbor, the Sailor must pursue him. But if Gio arrives at Capharnaum, he will wreak havoc as he prepares for her.”
“I’ll go and tell her.” I stood up, tucking strands of wet hair behind my ears. San must want Mist to catch Gio at sea and deal with him out of sight of land, where there would be no witnesses, he would have no reinforcements, and the sea would cover the remains.
“You will travel
“My lord…” The last thing I wanted was to be involved in a sea battle.
“The Castle protects the Fourlands against aggressors, Comet. Thankfully Tris is free from most of them, but Gio is certainly an aggressor, and one of our own making; our duty is to stop him. If he succeeds in reaching Tris you will deliver Capharnaum from both him and the Insect. I hope that if that eventuality occurs, the Senate will be inclined to communicate with us. You could tell them: ‘Our Emperor has sent us to protect you from Gio Ami and his criminals.’ And, only if the situation is right, tactfully restate my offer to join the Empire.”
San perceived the doubt in my eyes, and added, “With the help of Mist and Lightning you will be able to do it, I am sure.”
“My lord, have you heard news or can you feel…Would you tell me how Lightning is doing?”
“He lives, Comet. Walk with me.” San rose from the throne that had been worn over time to the exact shape of his body. He paced down the dais steps; his stiff white satin cloak trailed over them.
Amazed, I followed slightly behind him. We walked between the piers of a tall ogive arch into the west vault, up some worn steps and through a side door that led to a long outside terrace five meters above the lawns. Next to us, the arched windows of the Throne Room triforium ran the length of the building. Last night’s downpour had stopped, and a quite hot sun was sending all this travel-sick water skyward again.
I had never accompanied San outside the Throne Room before and had never seen him out on the terrace. I felt very awkward. I had some conception that I should kneel, but when I abased myself San just sighed and motioned for me to rise. So I stood next to him, looking toward the Dace Gate, and I felt like the most honored immortal until I followed the Emperor’s gaze and saw, for the first time in daylight, the destruction that Gio had wrought.
The Dace Gate was completely destroyed. Its tower was smashed open to the sky. Holes half a meter across shattered the top of the east curtain wall for fifty meters to our left, and chipped stone blocks lay all over the rutted lawns.
Northward, in the gap between the palace and the Castle’s outer walls, the trebuchet stones had obliterated the Aigret Tower’s top arches; their uprights remained like broken stalagmites. Cylindrical marble blocks lay among the statues in the monument square beneath and, peering through the skeletal tower, I saw that several of the Finials had fallen. Two whole trefoil arches on supporting pillars lay full length on the ground. I could see the signatures that covered them, like tiny cracks in eggshell. Gio had no right to attack the cenotaph, bring down the statues of mortals or wipe out the names of Eszai more ancient than him.
Tornado emerged from the Dace Gate barbican and ran heavily across the grass. He looked outsized even without any other men for comparison. He threw himself on his knees and looked up to our balcony, showing a round chin covered in stubble and enormous pectorals. His thick leather trousers and steel- toed boots were smeared with mud and I was satisfied to notice a bandage wound around his huge left shoulder, under a chain mail waistcoat that was mended with pieces of twisted wire. Hooked in his belt was a soup ladle, because whenever Tornado was not fighting, eating or drinking, he was cooking sumptuous meals. He smiled so hard his eyes disappeared. He boomed, “My lord, the cleanup’s going well; we’re just dismantling the last trebuchet.”
San nodded. “Good. Tornado, Gio will certainly not return. He is in the safe hands of the Sailor.”
The Strongman said, “I can march the fyrd toward Eske to trawl for any stragglers but-like-I need outriders or we might get ambushed in the forest.”
Tornado was ten times smarter than people gave him credit for. He glanced at me; I glared back daggers and he looked a bit puzzled. He was easygoing and probably thought that Tern wasn’t worth fighting over. It’s a shame to break such a long friendship but he’s doing the breaking, not me. I will fight him. I dropped my gaze only when I realized how closely the Emperor was studying us both.
“There is no need,” San said. “Take your Select Fyrd to the Front where the governor of Lowespass is calling for help. Please take the dismantled trebuchets with you; you may well need them.”
Tawny ran a big hand over his shaved head and the thick corrugations of fat and muscle at the back of his neck. He stood, bowed in a gainly manner, and walked back into the ruins.
The Emperor said quietly, “No one has attacked the Castle before. Whatever precedent it sets for the future, the governors are now abashed. They are already competing to demonstrate their loyalty by repairing this damage. They are sending their best architects, money and materials. A particularly generous quota is expected from Ghallain and Eske.”
“My lord, I can fly a circuit around the Plainslands and-”
San’s voice was unexpectedly sympathetic and warm. “I know you do not want to go back to Tris. You feel forsaken; you do not trust Tern and you want to be with her. But listen, your wife will not stay with Tornado.”
Then San stepped back into the Throne Room and was gone, leaving me on the balcony. The Emperor had mystified me again, this time with kindness. The warmth of his reassurance sank into my very core; I was overcome with gratitude. He touched me with a word and inflamed me with his energy. I felt like a great Eszai once more.
Long ago, Lightning told me how Tornado joined the Circle. In the year 885, Tornado strode into the Throne Room while court was in full session. The guards at the gate tried to stop him but Tornado just carried them along. Everybody fell silent as the giant stranger deposited two guardsmen in front of the throne. He leaned on his axe and said loudly, “I’m a Lowespass mercenary. I have no idea who to Challenge but I’ll fight any one of you!”
The silence continued; everyone stared at the nameless fighter. The Circle members looked perturbed while the Emperor regarded them expectantly. “I didn’t answer him.” Lightning shrugged. “I’m a bowman, not a brawler.”
The Emperor listened to the shuffling of feet before he broke the silence: “Very well. Warrior, tell me about yourself.”
Tornado came from the area where Frass town is now, a ravaged landscape since strengthened by the chain of peel towers built by Pasquin, the previous Frost. He led a company of mercenaries who were paid by the farms in proximity to the Wall to protect them from Insects. Back then, the bounty was a pound per Insect head, and his troop made enough money to survive. Tornado loved his itinerant life until his wife died from food poisoning-a
