The Legend of Broken

two diseases are at work in Broken, but that one of them afflicts the Bane, as well as ourselves?”

“But are we so certain that one of these same diseases is at work in the Wood?” Taankret says.

Visimar glances uneasily at Arnem, who, not wishing to show any sign of the uncertainty he indeed feels, at this moment, nods his head once. The cripple then reaches down to the right side of his chair, to a pouch he has long been carrying; and from it he withdraws all the objects that were entrusted by Caliphestros to the great eagle owl, Nerthus. Placing them on the table, he identifies each in turn (although many present need no introduction to the golden arrow of the priests of Kafra) and further explains the revealing manner of each plant’s harvesting, its function in first identifying the origin of the current troubles and its role in the treatments for the diseases that are loose.

“This is all very well, Visimar,” Bal-deric says, when the old man has finished his statement, “but how come you by such knowledge, when you have been marching with us these many days?”

“From the same source as came this map,” Visimar replies.

Bal-deric eyes them both. “And you, Sentek?” he continues, coming dangerously close to impertinence. “How can you know so much of what is taking place in the city, if no royal or merchant couriers have been observed bringing information?”

“No ‘royal or merchant’ couriers, Bal-deric,” Arnem answers. “But I have received private couriers — from Lady Arnem.”

“Lady Arnem?” Taankret bellows, throwing down a chop of beef and pulling his kerchief from his chin as he stands defiantly. “Has someone dared offend your wife, Sentek?”

“I fear so, Taankret,” the sentek replies measuredly, not wishing to allow the passion of the council to run too far before its purpose. “In fact, we have just learned that Lady Arnem has been accused of leading a rebellion that has flared up throughout the Fifth District — accused by none other than Lord Baster-kin himself. I was as reluctant to acknowledge such behavior on his lordship’s part as was anyone. But we have since discovered that the district has been sealed off, and is under effective siege, with veterans of our army leading the younger men and women in resistance.”

Arnem quickly learns that he has calculated correctly: like Taankret, nearly all of his officers dispense with their food and drink, stand in indignation, and begin to utter loud condemnations of any such actions. Isadora is, the sentek has correctly reasoned, the one figure whose fate could cause such a reaction; and it is their reaction, once Arnem has quieted his officers, that will dispose them to hear even more shocking intelligence.

“I assure you again, gentlemen,” the sentek says, “no one has been more disturbed by all these revelations than have I.” Arnem remains seated, attempting to display courage even in a situation that threatens his family and therefore himself. “But there is more. The dispatches from our city do come from my wife, but these pieces of evidence”—he holds a hand out toward the withering plants and the golden arrow—“these have been entrusted to us by another source entirely. A source whose continuing existence, I daresay, many of you will not credit as possible.”

“If the honor of Lady Arnem, as well as that of our own veterans, is being questioned,” declares Weltherr, “than I assure you, Sentek, we shall credit anything as being possible.”

Silence again dominates the interior of the tent, as Arnem glances at Visimar one last time; then the commander leans further toward the center of the table on his right elbow, and all his officers lean in toward him. Finally, in a hushed whisper, the sentek says:

“We have received this aid from none other than … Caliphestros …”

Arnem’s officers recoil as if each has been struck in the face by some invisible hand; yet before any of them can utter so much as a shocked echo, loud cries of alarm are heard from without the tent, and one of the pallins who served the officers their meal rushes through the quilted entrance.

“Damn it all, Pallin!” the sentek declares, now rising to his own feet in indignation. “You had better possess vital intelligence, indeed, for you to burst in on a closed council of war unannounced!”

“I — that is — yes, I think I do, Sentek!” the pallin says, standing straight as a he can and saluting. “Warriors have been observed by the men in our outposts, approaching camp!”

“Warriors?” Arnem says. “More of Lord Baster-kin’s Guard, perhaps, come down from the mountain to see what has befallen their comrades?”

“No, sir,” the pallin says. “Only one wagon approaches from the north!”

Arnem looks suddenly annoyed again. “Well, then, why all this shrieking about ‘warriors’—”

“The warriors approach from the south, sir!” the pallin says. “A large body of Bane infantry — and under a flag of truce!”

“Truce, Sentek?” Taankret says, his skepticism plain. “The Bane understand as little of honorable truce as they do of mercy.”

Visimar now gets to his one good and one wooden leg, gripping the table for support. “I really must disagree, Linnet Taankret. These are myths, told by the Merchants’ Council over many generations, until honorable men like yourself believe them. The Bane do understand truce, and mercy, as well.”

“How can you know this, cripple?” Bal-deric asks.

“By the same means I have come by these pieces of evidence, Bal-deric,” Visimar answers. “From my onetime master, who rides, now, with the Bane. It is he who has arranged this truce; he has sent me word of as much, and that the Bane have been willing to comply with it — some reluctantly, some less so. These are the facts of which I can assure you.”

“Oh?” Taankret says, still unconvinced. “And how have you been able to learn these supposed facts, Visimar?”

“Through methods and messengers that, again, you shall scarce credit, ere you see proof of them,” comes the cripple’s answer. “But be assured of this: no ‘sorcery’ or otherworldly power has been employed.”

Taankret’s demeanor softens. “True enough, old man — for if you truly possessed such powers, you would likely have used them in our, or at least your own, defense before now.”

“I am glad to hear you apply such logic to our predicament, Linnet,” Visimar answers, relieved. “There is much I could and would have done to aid your brave comrades, were I what the Kafran priests claim. But I, like my master, can nonetheless use the knowledge and abilities we do possess, to help our cause — and so I beg you, receive this flag of truce, and let us speak with the party that approaches.”

“That, we shall do,” Arnem announces; and yet, despite his decisive words, his manner appears genuinely perplexed. “What troubles me most immediately, however, is this single wagon that approaches from Broken. Pallin!” The young trooper who has brought the information straightens up, once more fearful of another berating. “You know nothing further of what this conveyance carries, and why?”

“No, Sentek,” the pallin answers. “Our information was only—”

At just that instant, another young scout enters the tent, as respectfully as some apparently momentous news will allow. He spots Akillus and, despite being covered in dust that has become mud by its mixture with horse and human sweat, moves to his commander at once. They exchange a few apparently astonishing pieces of information, and then Akillus dismisses the man quickly.

“Sentek,” Akillus says, “I have now learned the identities of those in the wagon, which evidently departed Broken with the greatest secrecy.” Akillus pauses, steeling his nerve. “It is your own children, Sentek.”

“My — own …,” Arnem whispers. And it takes him many moments more before he can continue: “All of them? Without their mother?”

“The scout counted but four,” Akillus says, his heart now heavy with the pain he has inflicted on the man he most admires in all the army; indeed, in all the world. “And your wife is not with them. In fact, their guardian, the driver of the wagon, is perhaps the most peculiar choice it would be possible to imagine. It is the seneschal of the Kastelgerd Baster-kin, Sentek — the man Radelfer. And, as I say, he displays no threat toward the children. Rather the opposite. He seems to be protecting them.”

Looking up suddenly, Arnem tries as best he is able to regain his composure. “Well — we face a crucial meeting, gentlemen; and my own difficulties must be left out of it.” His voice grows stronger, and he stands. “Each man to his command, and quickly, but be certain that each of your men understands that he is both ordered and obliged to observe the formal terms of truce, until he receives my personal order releasing him from those duties.”

Arnem’s officers all stand to attention, salute smartly, and depart the tent. The sounds of commands being