The Legend of Broken

did not wish us to enter the Wood: in that wilderness, our superior numbers apparently mean little or nothing, so well have the Bane mastered combat within the forest.”

“But—” A young linnet sitting next to Akillus is, like most of his comrades, puzzling with the dilemma determinedly. “But the Bane also attack outside the Wood. In terrible ways.”

“The Outragers do,” Visimar replies. “But the Bane army? We have no evidence that they do so, or that they ever have.”

“Then do they not deserve chastisement, for allowing the Outragers such vicious liberty?” comes another voice.

Arnem answers quickly: “Do all the subjects of Broken deserve similarly stern treatment, for the equally foul behavior of the Merchant Lord’s Guard, or for the behavior of a few nobles who excuse their murderous pursuit of the Bane under the title of ‘sport’?”

The sentek takes a few steps away from the council table, toward his own quarters; and for the first time, his officers notice that an additional, large, reversed piece of hide has been hung from the heavy curtain that separates the two areas. He tears away a light covering of fabric from this hide, to reveal a detailed map, not only of the northern side of the Cat’s Paw, but of much of Davon Wood — enough to show, after generations of searching, what appears to be the general position of Okot.

“Sentek …,” breathes one round-bodied, and equally round-faced, officer called Weltherr,† Arnem’s chief mapmaker. So fascinated is the man that he cannot help but rise up and move toward the image, lifting a hand to touch it, almost as if he believes it unreal. “But this map includes not only locations of communities, but features of topography, as well. With such a rendering, we could easily complete our original task: the invasion of Davon Wood, and the destruction of the Bane and Okot.”

“I do not believe so, Weltherr,” Arnem says, returning to the map. “Yantek Korsar, I have come to see, was not only speaking of physical features of the Wood, in his final warning — he also referred to the tactics of the Bane. Remember what happened to Lord Baster-kin’s men, after all — they were destroyed on ground with which we have long been fairly familiar, within sight of the Cat’s Paw. It was the manner, not the location, of their action that was their undoing. And I do not mean for the same to happen to the Talons.”

“Sentek,” Akillus says, quietly fascinated. “You still have not told us how you were able to compose such a map.”

Arnem breathes heavily once. “I did not compose it — but to hear who did, I must exact a special pledge from all of you: nothing that you are about to hear will ever be repeated outside our company. If any man feels he cannot abide by such an oath, let him leave now.” Allowing the men a moment to absorb this statement, Arnem eventually continues, in an even quieter tone, as he slowly strides around the table: “I shall not ask of you anything that could be construed as genuinely treasonous; but as we all know, strange things have taken place during this campaign, and it may be that their explanation will implicate persons in high places in Broken. Therefore, remember that our oath as soldiers is to our kingdom and our sovereign. And keeping faith with that oath will likely lead us, now, into territory more unmapped than the most distant corners of Davon Wood, if we follow the plan that I will suggest. We begin with questions, to be followed by facts: Did it not strike any of you as strange that the Merchant Lord should have dispatched a full khotor of his own Guard to reinforce the patrols on his Plain, much less attack the Bane within the Wood, just when, by my calculation, we had learned the truth of matters in Esleben and the other towns on the Daurawah Road, and were on our way to that latter port, where we would find even worse conditions prevailing? Almost as if he did not want the army to play the crucial role in Broken’s attack on the Bane?”

“Aye,” Taankret replies, a little ruefully. “Although I would not have been the first to speak of it. Could he have been ignorant of what we were discovering, Sentek?”

“You know my habits, Taankret,” Arnem answered. “I sent dispatches to the noble lord throughout our march. And Niksar’s brother, the unfortunate Donner, had been sending pleas for help for weeks. All unanswered. And then—” Arnem reaches into a pouch in his leather armor, and produces a small handful of kernels of some kind of grain. “—there were these …” He tosses the kernels into the middle of the table, and at once, each officer half-rises to get a closer look “Do not, any of you, touch them!” the sentek says, going to wash his own hands.

“What can they be, Sentek?” asks a young junior linnet, who is clearly disturbed by the turn the conversation is taking. Arnem, returning from his basin, turns to his left. “Visimar?”

The cripple is confident in his answer: “Winter rye. Such as is stored in almost every town and village in Broken, and was evident in abundance in Esleben.”

“But,” Bal-deric says, puzzling it out, “winter rye? We are well into spring. Why should the Eslebeners still be hoarding winter rye, when it was likely needed in the city, if not the provinces, during the last and most severe winter?”

“A question that perplexed me, as well,” Arnem answers, “until my conversation with the unfortunate Donner. But our own farmers and merchants are no longer, it seems, the sole source for winter grain, nor even the principal source — northern raiders are bringing it into the kingdom, having plundered it in far-off lands, and selling it to factors of the Merchant Lord: including, I regret to say, Lord Baster-kin himself, who believes that our provincial farmers and their representatives have begun to ask prices too great for the treasury of the kingdom to bear.” Soft murmuring again circulates around the table, until Arnem goes on: “Akillus — you saw the raiders’ ships, or what was left of those vessels, in the calmer portions of the Cat’s Paw, as well as in the Meloderna — correct?”

Akillus nods certainly. “Aye, Sentek. And it did not seem clear precisely what the Bane had to do with their destruction.”

“The Bane had nothing to do with such,” Arnem replies. “Our own people destroyed them when they became aware that the merchants in Broken had found illegal, even treacherous ways to frustrate their attempts to raise prices. This grain, when spoilt, produces a poison that brings about the same disease that we identify after battles as the fire wounds—”

The murmuring at the table turns suddenly more fearful, yet Arnem pushes on: “Yet these are not kernels of the grain recently brought into our kingdom by our enemies. These are taken from the storehouses of towns such as Esleben. Supplies which those unfortunate townspeople and citizens have themselves been consuming, because they refused to underbid thieves in the competition for the grain that goes on to feed and guarantee the security of the city of Broken.”

“And so,” Fleckmester says, slowly reasoning the matter out, “it was the fire wounds that drove the people of Esleben mad — the fire wounds, or whatever name the poison takes in its other forms—”

“Gangraenum,” Visimar says quietly.

Fleckmester nods to the cripple, comprehending the term not a bit, but knowing that, if Visimar says it is so, it must indeed be so.

“The fire wounds,” Arnem explains further, “are but one form of a disease that has many names. The Lumun-jani call it the Ignis Sacer, the ‘Holy Fire.’ To the Bane, it is ‘Moonfire,’ the cause behind the most terrible forms of death among humans and animals — as your men saw up and down the river, Akillus.”

“But this,” Fleckmester continues, drawing out the logic of the argument, “this means that some of the most important things that have made our kingdom strong are now — because of the stubbornness of the people of the provinces, in combination with the avarice of the Merchants’ Council — are now weakening it …?”

“That is the predominate fact, Linnet,” Visimar replies. “In so many parts of this tale …”

“And it is now clear,” Arnem says, “that this weakness is afflicting most if not all of the provinces. Not simply because of what we observed outside Daurawah, but because, Visimar assures me, supplies of the only known medicines that Nature offers for the disease are being harvested in great quantities throughout those same regions. Furthermore, I have received written reports from several sources that the disease is thus rife.”

“But,” Weltherr says, his voice trembling with newborn fear, “we have been told that the plague was a weapon, placed in Broken’s water by Bane spies and agents.”

“And yet, were this so,” Niksar answers slowly, “would we now know that not only are