The Legend of Broken

Wood.”

“To Davon Wood?” Dagobert says. “Then it was Bane who killed him?”

“Actually, several Bane are attempting to stop those who killed him from leaving,” Akillus says, still, apparently, amazed by the tale he tells. “But I will allow you to judge the situation for yourselves. For, if true, it is — most remarkable. Most remarkable, indeed …”

10

The first sight that Sixt, Isadora, and Dagobert Arnem encounter as they make their way back onto the Path of Shame is that of still more Talons, who cheer their emergence with unaffected enthusiasm. The bodies of Kriksex and his treacherously slain veterans have been removed, and upon asking, Arnem learns that pyres appropriate to their loyalty as well as their struggle are being built just outside the city walls. This fact satisfies the yantek, but does little to ease the sorrow of Isadora and Dagobert, who had come to know and rely upon the men with the utmost confidence and affection during the siege of the Fifth District. Having seen this same look in reaction to fallen protectors many times during his military campaigns, Arnem does not even attempt to speak words of sorrowful comfort to his wife and son, but tightens the hold he has on each of them with his two arms, ignoring the pain of his wound in favor of giving the only consolation that experience has taught him will, for the moment, have any effect.

Fortunately, the moment for such undiluted sorrow is brief: as the three follow Akillus into area before the South Gate, which is strewn with Guardsmen’s bodies and smoldering sections of collapsed oak, a human confrontation comes into view that is just what the chief of scouts had said it would be: most remarkable. Remarkable, and fairly confounding, since the participants in the disagreement seemed to have become fast comrades during the march on Broken. Those who are attempting to leave the city are Caliphestros, riding the white panther Stasi, who travels, now, alongside another, more golden beast — the white panther’s lost daughter, Arnem concludes, knowing well the famous tale of Lord Baster-kin’s panther hunt in Davon Wood. But in front of these three, and blocking their every move to escape with the speed and fearlessness that the sentek has come to expect from them, are the Bane foragers Keera, Veloc, and Heldo-Bah, the last of whom issues indictments of the onetime Second Minister of Broken that almost seem intended to provoke an attack. Observing this strange scene are still more of Arnem’s Talons, who are not at all sure what role, if any, they are meant to play in it, and who are glad to observe the approach of their commander.

“Listen to me, old man,” Heldo-Bah says, holding a long, smoldering shard of the fallen South Gate before him as a barrier. “This is no time to be running off. You’ve heard what Linnet Niksar said: there is to be a new order in this kingdom, one that will sweep away the past and be of enormous importance to the safety of the Bane tribe — especially now that the Broken army’s commander knows, if only roughly, where Okot is! So long as this is the case, and great as my respect for your companion — or rather, now, your companions— may be, you are not going anywhere, just yet.”

“It is not a moment for wisdom and justice to desert this city and this kingdom, Lord Caliphestros,” Veloc says, attempting greater conciliation than his fellow forager, but achieving even less effect. Caliphestros remains upon Stasi’s back, his face a stone mask that betrays no emotion save determination: an immovable determination to get out of the city that once was so welcoming to him, but which ultimately came close to costing him his life and, says the expression in his eyes, has not in fact changed so much that it may not try to do so again, should he stay.

Keera urges silence on her brother and their friend, then humbly implores, “My lord—” But very quickly, she catches her mistake. “I am sorry — you do not wish that title. Caliphestros — can you not see how much your influence will be needed in the actual building of this new style of kingdom that the proclamation Linnet Niksar has read will bring? Can you not undertake to contribute to it, for our sakes, if not for the people of Broken’s?”

But Caliphestros refuses to speak, even to Visimar, who stands nearby; and Arnem can see that some sort of intervention is required. As he moves his wife and son closer to each other, stepping out from between them as all soldiers present come to rigid attention and salute, he catches sight of Niksar, sitting astride his pure white mount, holding an unrolled piece of parchment as if its announcement was meant to resolve this and all problems, and betraying in his face complete surprise that it has not done so. Rather than approaching the participants in the confrontation at the gate directly, Arnem moves to his aide, his voice deliberately calm and inquisitive.

“Niksar,” he says.

“Yantek!” comes the reply; and the rank suddenly sounds stranger than it ever has, to Arnem’s ears.

“What have you been about, Linnet?” Arnem asks. “It was my understanding that you were attending to errands in the Fourth and then the First Districts.”

“As I did, Yantek,” Niksar explains quickly. “Well, that is, in the First. Your charge that I visit the Fourth District was delayed by the appearance of these—” Niksar indicates the bodies of Baster-kin’s men that litter the ground about them.

“And my children are safe?” Arnem says, wishing to be certain.

“Entirely safe, Yantek,” Niksar replies quickly. “They await outside the walls with a fauste of our men and Radelfer, as you directed. But I have carried out the second of my charges, and upon doing so thought it perhaps best to wait, and bring the children in only when we had resolved this matter of — Lord Caliphestros and his panthers.”

For the first time, Caliphestros turns his head, but only slightly, in Niksar’s direction, as if the remark was no more than what he had expected. “And so now they are dangerous animals to you, Niksar?” he asks, his voice bitter. “When for many days you have traveled with Stasi, and seen that she means no harm to anyone that does not threaten her?”

“But my lord—” Niksar begins to reply.

“I am not anyone’s ‘lord,’” Caliphestros says, not loudly, but with a rage that is unmistakable. “If I have not made that much clear during this campaign, then I have lost far more of the art of communication with my fellow men than I had thought the case.”

“Well—” But the moment is beyond Niksar’s negotiating skills, and he turns again to Arnem. “You see, Yantek, I went, as we had discussed—”

“As you two had discussed,” Caliphestros interrupts, his tone the same. “Apparently. I knew nothing of any such plan, nor did any member of the Bane tribe.”

“It is a minor point, Lord—” Arnem catches himself. “Your pardon — Caliphestros. Our purpose was only to discover the true intentions of the Layzin and the God-King, and to make our future plans accordingly. Was I in the wrong?”

“Since your ‘purpose’ evidently included revealing my presence in the city,” Caliphestros answers, “then I would say yes, you were in the wrong, by not consulting your allies.”

“Perhaps,” Arnem says. “But do you seriously suppose that Baster-kin, having observed our actions outside the walls, had not already made your presence, and that of the Bane, known within the High Temple, and thus to the royal family? And do you doubt that I only wished to explain that your presence was not to be feared?” These questions seem to mitigate Caliphestros’s fury, for an instant, and Arnem pursues the opening: “And, since Niksar evidently brings good news — well, what is the news you bring, Niksar?”

“Read for yourself, Yantek,” Niksar replies, handing the document down to his commander and himself saluting.

“I really do wish you could stop calling me that,” Arnem murmurs. “However, I suppose it is inevitable …”

“According to the God-King,” Niksar says, “it is more than inevitable: it is a heightened necessity, for you are a man of new standing — and power.”

As Arnem quickly reads the proclamation, he can see just how and why its actual wording — founded so basically in the Kafran faith and system of rule — would have inflamed the passions of the participants in the current disagreement when Niksar first read the thing. Such being the case, and not wishing to make matters worse, he simply and quickly summarizes its points: “It declares that Rendulic Baster-kin — the late Rendulic Baster-kin, I might add, Caliphestros—”