The Legend of Broken

But, because no other suggestions as to how to mark the duration of Sentek Arnem’s absence are offered, the two lines of representatives continue to face each other stone-facedly for a few moments more, listening to Heldo-Bah rattle the set of bones he keeps in a sack looped to his belt, until finally, Akillus and several other Broken linnets take the forager at his word, and a game of knucklebones breaks out over the objections of both the Groba and Niksar. Yet these more senior representatives are in turn quieted, in the first instance by Caliphestros, and then by Visimar, each of whom has seen the chance for informal good relations to be opened by the game. So strange does the sight become that Fleckmester’s men, a little out of envy and a little out of greed, begin to look back toward their sentek’s tent, in an effort to see if they might not be granted permission to join in the gambling. This causes the ever more bewildered Fleckmester himself (who in truth would join in the game himself, if he could) to glance back to Arnem’s tent, as well, where, he sees, an ordinary laborer’s wagon has appeared at the back entrance.

“Eyes forward, boys, eyes forward,” Fleckmester tells the troops who man the camp’s southern fortifications, be they archers or no. “We must continue to ensure that, however things may look upon the Plain, the safety of our comrades is guaranteed. As for what is taking place in the sentek’s tent, however …” He glances at the quilted walls once more. “That is not our concern, nor is it possible for us to imagine …”

What is taking place within the sentek’s tent is, on the one hand, a wholly ordinary and domestic scene — a man being reunited with all, save one, of his children — and on the other, an extraordinary one: for the fact that Radelfer has been the children’s guide out of the city would seem to indicate that something not only unusual but, perhaps, treacherous has taken place within Broken’s walls. The seneschal of the most powerful clan in the kingdom should not have to flee like a criminal from those confines, any more than should the offspring of the kingdom’s supreme military commander: yet this appears to be precisely what has happened. Arnem’s children have already related to their father (for the greater part through Anje’s words) the tale of how their mother attempted to alert the Merchant Lord to the source of the rose fever in the Fifth District, and was met in return with ultimatums, siege, and talk of criminality. Throughout this account, Radelfer has stood at attention near the closed rear entryway of the tent without comment: Arnem knows that the seneschal, despite his current employment by Baster-kin, was once a member of the Talons; and that he must have formed, given the two posts, opinions as to what is happening. The sentek rightly suspects that Radelfer’s momentary reason for keeping sentinel is primarily to ensure the safety of the sentek and his children, as well as to prevent any besides Arnem himself from hearing the strange story told by the children.

“But Mother was right,” Anje declares. “The strange water under the southwestern wall of the city was the cause of the rose fever, and once the people in that part of the city stopped using it, the fever ceased to spread.”

“It’s true, Father,” says Golo. “But, instead of being rewarded for helping the people, Lord Baster-kin said the God-King and the Grand Layzin had decreed that Mother, and anyone who had or continued to assist her, should be outlaws — even Dagobert! — and that our district should be cut off from the rest of the city and destroyed.”

“Wait, now, Golo!” objects the pious young Dalin; and then he turns to Arnem. “We do not know that these orders came from the God-King and the Grand Layzin themselves, Father.”

“Your son speaks truly, Sentek,” Radelfer says, quietly but firmly, from the shadowy rear of the tent. “We know no such thing …”

Emboldened, Dalin continues: “Only Lord Baster-kin himself visited the place where the unhealthy water flowed, only he argued with Mother, and only his men played any part in cutting the district off from the rest of the city. The sentek of the regular army who usually watches over that section of the walls — Sentek Gerfrehd, he told us is his name — is a good and obedient man, with whom Mother speaks, from time to time. And he knows that he is not allowed to attack his fellow citizens of Broken, even in the Fifth District, simply because the Merchant Lord wishes it. That is a command that must first come from the God-King, and have your own approval — and it has not been given either of these things.”

“Gerfrehd,” Arnem muses quietly. “Yes, your mother has written to tell me of their conversations, and I was pleased, for I know the man well — as honorable an officer as has ever held high rank in the regular army …” The sentek then quickly and silently glances up to Radelfer, who simply nods once in return, as if to say, Yes — it is as complex and bizarre as it seems …

“Which is why I do not understand why we were forced to leave home, like common criminals,” Dalin complains.

“Oh, most un-common, surely, Master Dalin,” Radelfer offers with a small smile, raising the sentek’s estimation of the man. “Allow yourselves that much, at least.”

But the attempt at friendly humor is lost on Dalin: “I don’t care!” he states emphatically. “I only know that I have been forced further away from my duties to the God-King.”

“Dalin …,” Sixt Arnem warns, trying not to be too stern, but having heard enough.

Young Gelie has stayed on her father’s knee since she and her siblings arrived in the tent, and now declares, as emphatically as is her custom, “Mother was doing much good for the district, Father, but the entire situation really did become frightening — Lord Baster-kin’s men built their wall so quickly, I was afraid that we would be captured forever! If it had not been for Radelfer—”

“And that is another thing,” Dalin says, not a little suspiciously. “Why should the Merchant Lord’s own seneschal have defied his orders and made himself an outlaw, simply to help Mother?”

“Oh, don’t be such a clever little brat,” Golo says. “Wasn’t it obvious that the situation was quickly becoming far more dangerous?”

“It’s true, Dalin,” Anje says, putting her hands to her hips — much as her mother might do, Arnem observes with a melancholy smile. “Even you should have been able to see that much. As to anything else, we ought to allow Radelfer, who does understand the matter fully, to explain it to Father.”

“Though one thing is plain enough already, Father,” says Gelie. “You would hardly believe how much Mother’s help and instruction, along with the work of the old soldiers, have made life better in the district.” Her young face screws up in puzzlement. “And yet, that only seemed to make Lord Baster-kin’s men angrier—you would think it would be the other way round, wouldn’t you?”

Arnem’s eyes turn up to meet Radelfer’s, and he nods. “Yes. I would, Gelie. And so …” Arnem lifts his youngest child up and sets her on the woolen floor of the tent. “There is a great table full of freshly roasted beef and vegetables in the next room, my young ones; why don’t you all go and have something to eat while Radelfer and I talk about what has happened?”

A general chorus of enthusiasm — one that includes even Dalin’s voice — rises up from the children, making it clear that, whatever other improvements Isadora may have effected in the Fifth District, supplies of food to that beleaguered section of Broken have not increased of late. Golo and Gelie lead the dash through the heavy curtain partition, with Anje urging all of her younger siblings to slow down and behave themselves. But Arnem’s eldest daughter pauses at the partition; and, making sure the other children are engrossed in the food, she returns to the sentek and Radelfer despite her own hunger.

“That is not all I was to tell you, Father,” Anje says, now appearing more plainly worried. “Although Mother did not wish the younger ones to hear it.”

“I suspected as much, Anje,” Sixt Arnem says, holding his oldest daughter tightly, as if it will give him some reminder that his wife still lives. “Tell me, then.”

Anje — ever her mother’s most sensible child — speaks in a remarkably controlled voice. “Lord Radelfer can tell you of it far better than can I. If he will be so kind.”

As Arnem continues to keep one arm around Anje, Radelfer says, “I am only too happy to oblige, Maid Anje — if you will promise in return that you will eat, for you are exhausted and have been without proper food for too long.”

To this, Anje only nods. “All right, Lord—”

“I am no ‘lord,’ Maid Anje,” Radelfer says. “Although I appreciate the honor you do me by calling me such. Now — get yourself some food.”

Anje nods again, and then follows her siblings. Radelfer turns to Arnem, his face displaying both unease and admiration. “Your daughter is brave and wise, Sentek,” he says, “just as her mother was at her age.”

“You knew my lady even then, Seneschal?” Arnem asks, amazed.