The Legend of Broken

Caliphestros, “We shall all do our best to cooperate in whatever endeavor I sense you are about to propose to us.”

“Your reputation for wisdom is deserved, indeed, Father,” Caliphestros said with a nod. “I do wish to propose a plan, to yourselves and to Yantek Ashkatar; a plan that may allow us, not only to turn the disease in the Cat’s Paw to our advantage, but to entrap those men of the Merchant Lord’s Guard who, I believe, will shortly cross into Davon Wood. And, by so doing, we will forestall any need to engage the Talons in combat, once they arrive, and can invite them to parley under a flag of truce, instead.”

The Groba Father was momentarily at a loss for words; and it was for another Elder to speak further: “Your—goals are without question desirable, Lord Caliphestros,” the Elder commented. “Yet they seem, at the same time, extreme, and to contradict themselves. If the rose fever has indeed struck across a broad region of Broken, for example, why should we think that they do not know its source, when we now know it, ourselves?”

“It was my understanding that age brought wisdom, in this chamber,” Heldo-Bah called out. “Use your eyes, Elder, if your mind is of no help — you’re looking at the reason the Tall do not know the source of the disease, and why our own healers do. Lord Caliphestros is a master of the sciences that have given our own healers the advantage — the same sciences that bred such great distrust of him among the Tall that they took his legs.”

“Science?” said the Priestess disdainfully. “If we are to be delivered from this crisis, it will be faith, and not science, that will be our salvation. Science is no more than the blasphemer’s term for sorcery.”

Yantek Ashkatar looked first to Keera and then to Caliphestros in some embarrassment “With all respect, Divinity,” the gruff, bearded soldier said, never daring to engage the Priestess’s gaze. “I fear that your statement may be … incomplete—”

“May be idiotic,” Heldo-Bah murmured quietly, causing the Priestess to slam her young fists down upon the Groba’s table and cry:

“That is more than I can tolerate—!” But another low growl from Stasi, who this time lifted up onto her forelegs, as well, was all that was needed to quiet the sacred maiden; and, while this silence was of a sullen variety, it was also continued. Heldo-Bah, in the meantime, coaxed Stasi back to the stones of the hearth by stroking the rich fur of her neck and whispering into the enormous, pointed ear that faced him:

“Save your anger, Great Cat — she is not worth the effort. The time for killing will be upon us soon enough. And so — save your anger …”

And again Keera was amazed that Stasi complied with Heldo-Bah’s suggestions, the two seeming to have, against all probability, developed not only some newfound affection, but a means of communication.

“Let us hear Lord Caliphestros out,” the Groba Father announced at length. “We owe him at least that much, and no one in this tribe, however high or low, can say they are exempt from that debt.” General agreement to this appraisal having been reached once more, Caliphestros pressed forward:

“I do not wish to discount the role that faith will play, in the coming days,” the old man conceded graciously, although his words did not mollify the High Priestess as greatly as they should have. “For in times of war, such faith is a great comfort to those soldiers and common folk who are made to suffer most. In our own case, Yantek Ashkatar has told me that, whichever forces of Broken arrive on Lord Baster-kin’s Plain in the hours to come, it is his desire to draw them into the Wood, where they will be unable to execute their maneuvers, and will instead become confused and terrified, and therefore may be defeated piecemeal — perhaps even annihilated. An admirable opening move.” The old scholar studied the Groba Fathers in turn once again. “But there are ways in which the fight can be further weighted in the Bane’s favor — if you will but avail yourselves of methods I have developed.”

“Methods of science,” the Priestess declared distastefully.

“That’s the limit,” Heldo-Bah suddenly pronounced, rising from his place at the fire. “Don’t even try to explain, Lord Caliphestros — one demonstration will do the work of hours of argument.”

As he crossed toward the Priestess and the Outragers who stood behind her, Heldo-Bah drew the blade that he had been given by Caliphestros in Stasi’s den, causing the two Woodland Knights to suddenly move in front of the young woman. At this, the panther got to her feet, growling deep within her throat again, and letting her teeth show for a moment in a quick snarl.

“Heldo-Bah!” Keera said as he passed her by. “Be careful what you begin!”

“I begin nothing,” answered the angry forager. “Instead, I will finish all this useless talk.” Then, to the Outragers, he challenged, “Go ahead, either of you — or both. Hold your blades forth, try to thwart me.”

The Outragers moved farther in front of the woman whose life they were sworn to protect, their blades yet before them, as Caliphestros and Keera moved to restrain and calm the panther. The Priestess looked supremely confident, seeming to believe that she was at last on the verge of witnessing the impertinent Heldo-Bah’s death, when suddenly:

With two resounding clashes of metal upon metal, Heldo-Bah left the Outragers holding mere pieces of their blades; and the expressions on their faces were even more awed than Heldo-Bah’s had been in Stasi’s cave.

“There,” said Heldo-Bah, sheathing his blade, wiping at his forehead, and returning to Stasi. “I don’t know what you’d like to call that, Priestess, but your ‘knights’ carry blades taken from Broken soldiers — this much is known. So you go on explaining how we can ignore such advantages, if you must — or let us proceed, in the name of your precious Moon, to go about the business of exploiting them …”

Hobbling back to his place before the Groba, Caliphestros pronounced, “Heldo-Bah’s methods are perhaps crass, but his conclusion is wise. This is the sort of result that my scientific arts can offer you — this and more, if you will only allow me to assist you.”

“But—” The Groba Father was still staring at the Outragers, who were in turn staring at the pieces of blades in their hands. “But how?” the Father asked at length.

“I can explain it,” Caliphestros replied, “although I would recommend that we do so as we undertake the work of preparation.” Glancing at the cave walls about him, which were so much like those in his own longtime home, Caliphestros continued, “These chambers of yours contain internal passageways that will be ideal for the work that we must do — and, if my experience is any guide, the chambers atop the mountains higher above us will suit our purposes even better.”

“You believe you truly can produce this superior steel in our mountains?” the Father asked, with an urgency none of the foragers had ever heard him employ.

“Within their highest caves,” Caliphestros replied, “as I learned to do during my years of exile far to the west. For we will be harnessing the winds that blow and are channeled through the passages in these stone walls, just as they draw the smoke of your fire instantly from this chamber. Not even the great bellows that power your Voice of the Moon can direct such prodigious winds onto any one specific point.”

The Groba Father shook his head. “These matters are quite beyond me, as I dare say they are beyond all of us — though perhaps you will tell the tale of their discovery as we begin our work.”

Caliphestros nodded in grateful relief. “I shall be pleased to—as we work. But work we must, and quickly. As it is, we shall not have time to so arm all of your warriors — Yantek Ashkatar must choose his very best troops, and even at that, it will be a close-run affair.”

The foragers and Caliphestros began to rise, Keera helping the old man to remove his walking equipment, so that he was able pull himself onto the white panther’s powerful shoulders as she dipped her neck to receive him.

“It seems to me,” the Priestess of the Moon declared, “that we are being asked to put faith that would better suit a god than a man in ‘Lord’ Caliphestros.”

Veloc bravely stepped forward, a trace of uncertainty nonetheless present in his words. “We ask you only to believe the words of a man who has made as much of a study of these matters as you have all made of the power and workings of the Moon.” There was no member of the Groba who was able to protest to this, and Veloc was encouraged to press on: “And now, I would ask your most honored and revered persons to allow us to withdraw and to host Lord Caliphestros at our family’s home. Keera has had but a few minutes’ reunion with her children, and my lord Caliphestros has had a most arduous journey to Okot—”

“A fact to which I can attest,” Yantek Ashkatar said, nodding certainly. “The journey of Keera’s party has been an arduous one, indeed — why, even Heldo-Bah—”