The Legend of Broken

“Indeed,” Caliphestros answered, attempting scholarly detachment as Keera passionately embraced Stasi out of both joy and gratitude, not daring to do the same to the panther’s companion. “Most residents of Broken,” the old man continued, “would think them quite beyond the abilities of your tribe’s artisans.”

“Yes,” Veloc agreed, his voice growing more hushed as the group approached the entrance to the Den of Stone. “Of course, the tales most of the reliefs tell are as much nonsense as the great tapestries in Broken. But they are no less attractive to look at.”

Caliphestros laughed, briefly and quietly. “Is there any part of the city on the mountain that you have not dared enter, Veloc? You haven’t, for example, penetrated the Inner City, I trust?”

“Oh, no, of course not, no,” Veloc quickly replied.

“Although, based on the form of that First Wife of Kafra,” Heldo-Bah added, “the woman you called Alandra, I rather regret that we did not …”

Keera quickly noticed, even through her joy, that Caliphestros not only failed to reply, but displayed the same pained expression that he did when the woman’s name was first mentioned at the outset of their woodland journey: pained, and something else as well. “Heldo-Bah, you imbecile!” she hissed. “Have you no sense of—”

Further discussion was cut short, however, when the three foragers, along with the rest of their party, heard the sharp voice of the Groba Father:

“Yantek Ashkatar! The Groba invites you and your esteemed guests to enter!” And then the Father added, in far less enthusiastic words that Veloc knew referred to himself and to Heldo-Bah: “Along, I suppose, with the rest of your party …”

Veloc had expected that the faces of the Groba, the Priestess of the Moon, the Lunar Sisters, and the Outragers would likely display suspicion when Caliphestros and Stasi, accompanied by Ashkatar, the foragers, and their guiding Elder, entered the Den of Stone: but the handsome forager had not expected that the ten faces before him, which had always been supremely confident when dealing with the likes of himself, Keera, and Heldo-Bah, would be so full of uneasiness bordering on fear when the party made their entrance, a reaction that delighted both himself and Heldo-Bah.

Veloc made the perfunctory introductions, and the Groba Fathers all bowed their heads in great respect to Caliphestros, while the Priestess of the Moon, her Lunar Sisters, and the two Outragers standing in the shadows beside them were far less deferential in their silent greetings. Seeing this, Heldo-Bah began glancing about the Den with a look of dissatisfaction that seemed directly aimed at the Priestess, although his words addressed the head of the Groba:

“Must it always be so dark in here, Father?” the sharp-toothed forager asked with no little impertinence. “You see, it makes Stasi — our friend, the panther, here — a little nervous. Am I not right, Lord Caliphestros?”

Caliphestros recognized what the gap-toothed Bane was attempting to ensure: that a correct order of relationships be established, from the start.

“Indeed, Heldo-Bah,” the famed scholar lied (for in truth, Stasi was a creature of the darkness); and then, to the man in the tall chair at the center of the Elders’ table, he continued, “Perhaps, Esteemed Father, one or two of these gentlemen”—and without looking at them, he indicated the Outragers—“might be persuaded to fetch another torch or two. Their presence is not required for our conference, and so they will not be missed.”

“I beg your pardon?” the Priestess of the Moon said incredulously. “Those men happen to be my personal servants, members of the Order of the Woodland—”

“Of the Woodland Knights, Eminence, yes,” Caliphestros interrupted, pleasantly enough. “Although they have other names, in other places — names perhaps more befitting their activities. Then, too, I have never actually seen one of them in the ‘Woodland.’”

The Priestess eyed Caliphestros with a resentful stare. “The correct terms to use when addressing me, sorcerer, are either ‘Divine One’ or ‘Divinity.’ Please note it.”

“Perhaps if one is of your faith,” Caliphestros replied evenly, “such are the correct terms. I, as it happens, am not.”

The Priestess looked more shocked than ever. “We have allowed a Kafran into the Den of Stone?”

But the old man held up a hand. “Nay, Eminence. I assure you, my hatred for the Kafran faith could not be more obvious.” He indicated his legs. “But my own faith is, I suspect, not one which I could explain to you quickly. Suffice to say that my own correct title, whatever your faith, is scholar.”

The Groba Father weighed the matter for a moment. “My lord Caliphestros speaks truly, Divinity. His actions have proved the faith he keeps with our people, and take precedence over titles and words, as well. Thus, he may call you ‘Eminence,’ and to you he will be ‘scholar.’”

“But, Father—!” the Priestess objected.

“That is my decision, Priestess!” the Father declared.

“A wise decision, too,” Heldo-Bah said.

“Do not make me regret it, Heldo-Bah,” the Father declared. “Now—” The Father deliberately looked past the Priestess, and gave a sharp order to the Outragers: “One or two more torches, and get them in haste.” He pulled a collection of parchment maps close and, beginning to study them, said, “We have much to do, and with so many more participants, we can well use the additional light …”

Knowing that he was risking serious conflict, Heldo-Bah added quietly to the Outragers as they passed, “And perhaps a few more sticks of firewood, as long as you’re going. She does like to bask in the warmth of a good fire, does this panther …”

The Father nodded at the departing Outragers impatiently, and they, looking furious, proceeded upon their servants’ errands.

“Now, then, my lord,” the Father announced, indicating that Caliphestros should draw nearer, which the old man did, sliding from Stasi’s shoulders with the foragers’ help, and then into his harness and crutches. “I do not know just how much Yantek Ashkatar has told you of our intelligence concerning the Tall’s planned attack into the Wood, but—”

“He has told me much,” Caliphestros said, studying the rough but accurate Bane maps. “And almost all of it, I think the noble Yantek will concede when he hears what I have to say, is inaccurate. Although understandably so. My own and Keera’s investigations, together with communications I have exchanged with several … associates of mine, indicate that the Talons are embroiled in terrible matters between Broken and Daurawah, matters concerning their kingdom’s internal integrity — to say nothing of their own lives. They are only now turning toward they valley of the Cat’s Paw, whereas the troops that are presently bearing down upon you are, in fact, a khotor of Lord Baster-kin’s Guard.”

To a tableful of blank faces, Caliphestros reached over to pull a crude tracing of the course of the Cat’s Paw from the pile of parchment, then turned when the Outragers reentered the Den. “Ah, good. We need the light. Place the torches here, by the maps, Outrager—”

“He is not your servant, to be ordered to perform such menial tasks,” the Priestess of the Moon almost shouted. “Nor is the term ‘Outrager’ a recognized form of address!”

“Well, Eminence,” Caliphestros replied coolly. “Perhaps if they spent less time butchering Broken farming families, it would not be, but I can assure you that outside this chamber, it is only too common—”

It was for the Groba Father to step in again: “With all respect, my lord, further bickering will gain us nothing.” And then, to the Outragers: “Set the torches near the table, one of you, while the other feeds and stokes the fire. Then return to your mistress, that we may continue learning what is happening near the Cat’s Paw.”

“You need only look at what is happening in it, Learned Father,” Caliphestros replied. “Members of your own tribe choosing to end their lives, terribly, in the very waters that made them ill to begin with — yet more, besides. Surely your own foragers have reported large numbers of dead and dying animals, especially upstream — for Keera and I saw as much, ourselves.”

“Yes, our people have seen these things,” the Father replied, watching in wonder as Heldo-Bah led the great white panther to the hearth before the great fire, stroked her neck and whispered in her ear, and at last urged her to lie down on the warm stones. Then, with no trace of fear, he himself lay beside her, his head upon her ribs. “But,” the Father continued, astounded and only half-aware of what he was saying, “we thought it simply part of the same plague that the Tall had loosed upon us …” Regaining his dignity and composure, he turned back to