5
'They were so frightened,' he said. 'I see that now. I didn't recognize it at the time.'
'The folk in River's Bend?' asked the commander.
'No, those three men outside the village that turned me away. They were so frightened.'
'Just like in Herelia,' said the commander, pouring more cordial into Joss's cup. 'That's why we reeves had to leave Herelia, in the end.'
'Their fear? Or the burned villages and murdered villagers?'
'The one made the other. We reeves are not an army to impose our authority by force. There was nothing we could do, and the villagers in Herelia soon learned it. Thus are we cast out. Now, I see, the contagion is spreading out of Herelia. And we are left with the same dilemma. If we do nothing, we blind ourselves and undercut our own authority. If we interfere, the local folk die. This is what comes of the death of the Guardians. Indeed, I expect it is their loss that has seeded the plague.'
Joss toyed with his cup, turning it round and round as the red liquor lapped the rim, never quite spilling over. His left hand was bandaged; he'd cut it badly searching for survivors among the ruins of River's Bend. He'd found none, although it was true he'd not found nearly as many corpses as he ought to have done. People were missing, and as of yet, neither whisper nor shout had been heard of their whereabouts or their remains.
'I thought sure some of the foresters might have witnessed, and survived,' he went on, 'but when one pair of them did venture out of the Wild to get a look, near dusk, they told me it happened at night and not a one of their clan saw anything or heard anything.'
'Think you they were lying?'
He shrugged. 'I couldn't tell. They none of them sleep the night at the river's shore. They all hike into the Wild to their clan houses. That's where they feel safe.'
'Now we see why.'
The entry bell out on the porch rang to announce visitors. The door was slid open, and the legates filed in. Joss began to rise, seeing his meeting was over, but the commander gestured for him to remain seated.
He lifted his hands as a question.
'While you were gone, I received word from Marshal Masar that he is shorthanded and has no one to replace you as legate. It seems I acted in haste when I dismissed you. Allow me to say that I was, on that one occasion, mistaken.'
He almost laughed, but he swallowed his moment of amusement because of the serious expressions worn by the other five legates. They made no comment. All seemed too preoccupied with their own grievances and worries even to have heard her rare joke. Indeed, they had a difficult time paying attention when, as the first order of business, the commander had Joss recount the scene at River's Bend.
'That's all very well,' said Legate Garrard, 'and a terrible thing, as I need not go on about, but I must return to Argent Hall. I've received an urgent message from Marshal Alyon demanding my return. Urgent.'
'On what matter?'
Garrard shook his head. 'We've had trouble, as I've spoken to you about on many occasions these last seasons. Too many troublesome reeves are being allowed to transfer into Argent Hall from the other halls.'
'We're well rid of those who left us,' said the legate of Iron Hall, a stocky man boasting two stark-white scars on his broad, dark face.
'That may be,' said Garrard with heat. 'I don't blame your masters for letting them go. I blame Clan Hall for not blocking all this moving about.'
The commander merely shook her head. 'Clan Hall has no mandate to block transfers that are agreed to by the marshals of the six halls. Marshal Alyon must stop the transfers. Why hasn't he?'
'It's true we're shorthanded, and we need every reeve and every eagle. But Marshal Alyon is old, ill, and easily pressured by certain factions within the hall. It's too much for him, all the territorial squabbles to be resolved, the gossip, the tempers, the fights-'
'Fights?' asked the commander coolly. She beckoned to the old reeve who acted as her chamberlain, and he brought in a tray of cups and poured cordial all around.
Legate Garrard was normally an even-tempered man, with the black coarse hair and creamy brown complexion common in the south. But he was so agitated now that the other legates stared at him. 'He thinks he's being poisoned.'
'Poisoned!' cried the legate from Iron Hall. 'Poisoned? Who in the hells would want to poison that old man? He's as harmless as a mouse. Now, if it were my old marshal, what passed the Gate ten years back, any one of us would've done it, and gladly, for she were the worst-tempered person I ever did meet in my life.'
This comment brought silence. No one laughed. From the parade ground, an eagle screamed a challenge, but there came no answering call.
Taudit, the legate from Horn Hall, stood. 'I'm leaving,' she said. 'My marshal has recalled me, together with all the reeves posted here from Horn Hall. A reeve flew in this morning with the message. We've all been recalled. I'm sorry.'
The commander sipped at her drink. Then she nodded. Joss was stunned. He hadn't seen this coming, but it was obvious from the commander's response that she had not been taken by surprise.
'I'll expect a report, Legate Taudit,' the commander said.
Legate Taudit nodded crisply. She was a dry, reserved, uncommunicative individual, impossible to get to know. 'You'll get one. Trouble in our region. Marshal wants all of us back, to be one group to face it. We're leaving now, while there's still an afternoon's flying to be had. The heavens are clear. No telling when the rains will start getting hard. We'll send a report when we can.' She made brusque courtesies, opened and closed the door, and was gone.
'I must leave, too,' said Garrard. He gazed at the blank door, the unadorned walls, the quiet room, the commander, and the other four legates. His fingers tapped his knees, making him seem quite nervous. 'I am sick in my heart,' he added, more softly. 'There are shadows everywhere, and I am blind. I can't see through this to a time of peace and order.'
'What of your halls?' the commander asked, looking at the other three legates: Iron Hall, Gold Hall, and Bronze Hall.
The proper strength of a reeve hall was six hundred eagles and six hundred reeves, but no hall was ever at full strength. By tradition, each sent a small contingent together with a legate to Clan Hall, switched out at intervals. Eagles departed for months or, in rare cases, years to breed in the unclimbable and vast wilderness of the Heaven's Ridge mountain range, where their nesting territories lay. Reeves too old to fly regular patrol must be accommodated. Old eagles died, and fledglings needed training and the long process of accommodation to the presence of other eagles in overlapping patrol territories. New reeves must train as well, a laborious process in its own right. Eagles must recover from injury, molting, disease. When its reeve died, an eagle would fly off, and none could predict when it would return to choose a new reeve-or if it would return at all.
No hall ever stood at full strength, not even now when full strength was so badly needed. Yet even at full strength, they would not have been able to do everything that was now needed.
'We're holding,' said Bronze Hall's legate. 'We've had little trouble in Mar, I must tell you. But we hear rumors. We're patrolling the coast and our borders, and keeping our eyes fixed. For now, we need not recall our contingent that's here in Clan Hall.' She smiled at Joss. She was a twelve-year younger than he was, another Ox. Two years ago, when she'd first come, they'd spent a lot of time together in bed and out before parting amicably at her request.
Gold Hall's legate shook his head. His hair was cropped almost to the skull, in the style of the delvings, although he himself was human, a short, thin man who was much stronger than he looked. 'Beyond the borderlands of the Arro Mountains we have trouble. Within the mountains, none dare threaten us. Zosteria lies at peace, for the moment, but there have been incidents along the coast and in the hills. Half of Herelia was under our watch and we don't fly there now, so we know how the worst can spread. We remain vigilant. Nothing has changed since my last report.'
Iron Hall's legate was a man who, like Joss, had been made legate to get him out of the hall, in his case-so rumor had it-away from the friction of personal relationships gone sour. 'I've had my orders. Iron Hall will keep a half contingent here, but the rest have to go back.'
