The Legend of Broken

But Isadora’s attention has drifted. “If my suspicions about this business are correct, it may offer the chance to bargain from a position of greater strength — or, at least some strength …” She shakes herself back to immediate concerns. “I will go and see what is taking place in Berthe’s home and neighborhood, and try to determine just what it is that ails her husband. It’s not so very far from here, although it will plainly be a perilous trip. Still, I must be certain of the nature of the sickness, before I attempt the more uncertain venture that will follow. And so — have Bohemer and Jerej† bring the litter here.” Isadora speaks of the family’s two male servants, who are guards as much as anything else. Massive, bearded bulger‡ warriors, originally from the tribes far to the southeast of Broken, the men do perform heavy tasks as required about the house and its grounds; but far more often, they accompany Sixt and Isadora Arnem, and often their children, into the city, the various straps that gird their bodies holding small armories of weapons. “They are to guard Berthe and wait while I pack my healing kit and change my clothing. Tell them that I am going abroad in the city and that they should prepare themselves.”

This command brings what is left of Dagobert’s patience to its end: “Mother!” he says, sharply enough to finally make Isadora meet his gaze. “Where is it that you propose to go? It’s already past sunset, and in a few minutes it will be dark — what madness can you be thinking of?”

“As I say, I will go to Berthe’s home, first,” Isadora answers, as though that notion did not entail entering the most dangerous neighborhood in the city. “And then, assuming all is as it should be — or, rather, as it should not be — I will continue on.”

Lady Arnem then explains to Berthe that she must wait in the doorway for her, and not be frightened by the admittedly unsettling men that will shortly appear with the family’s litter; but Dagobert is not yet satisfied with her explanation, and as he opens the garden door, he asks:

“And where will you ‘continue on’ to?”

“Why, Dagobert,” Isadora says blithely, as she walks swiftly into the garden, “I had thought you’d be clever enough to have determined that. I will continue on to the home of the Merchant Lord himself.”

Dagobert’s mouth falls open, and he slams the garden door from within, bolting it in astonishment. “To the Kastelgerd Baster-kin?” he says. “But—”

Isadora, however, has turned and put an urgent finger to her mouth, ordering silence. “Not in front of the others, Dagobert — I will explain it all later. For now — do as I have told you …”

Dagobert enters the house close behind his mother and searching for another member of his family: Anje, who stands at the foot of the central staircase, awaiting them. The maiden begins to move toward her mother and brother, explaining that she has attended to her various tasks, and that Nuen is now feeding the other children — yet she has scarcely got the words out before Isadora takes her arm, issuing new requests for assistance:

“Come and help me change my gown, Anje,” Lady Arnem says, climbing the stairs quickly. “And I’ll need rose water, as well as galena for my eyes and red poppy lip paint …”† Manly youth though he may be, Dagobert recognizes all such commands as parts of an effort by his mother to ready herself, not for the ugliness of the neighborhood she has said she will visit initially, but for the splendor of her ultimate goal, the First District, and in particular the Way of the Faithful, the finest street in the city, at the far end of which stands the most awe-inspiring residence in Broken: the Kastelgerd Baster-kin, that ancient home which, in its complexity of design, is often said to rival or even exceed the royal palace itself.

Dagobert attempts to somehow convey this understanding to his sister by calling after Anje and Isadora, as they continue up the stairs, “I must change my clothing, too, Mother, if we are to visit the Kastelgerd of the Merchant Lord!” Anje’s expression as she glances back shows that she has taken his meaning, and will attempt to learn more of what is at hand as she helps her mother dress. Isadora, meanwhile, sees none of this, and does no more than clarify to Dagobert that she will make the second part of her journey alone; she then reminds him to make sure that the family’s litter is readied, along with the men who will carry it, after which she disappears into her bedroom with Anje.

When mother and daughter have finished transforming Lady Arnem’s dress and appearance into a powerful echo of the considerable beauty with which Isadora was graced during her own maidenhood, and have returned to the stairway, they learn of Dagobert’s full intentions: a seemingly strange man stands at the base of the stairs in leather armor worn over a full shirt of bronze mail, a gently curved marauder sword within a wood and hide sheath hanging from a broad belt at his waist and one hand resting rather imperiously upon the pommel of the sword. A stunned silence ensues, interrupted only by the sounds of the three younger Arnem children’s laughing and arguing as they consume their evening meal farther away in the house. After what seems a very long moment, it is Isadora who declares:

“Dagobert! And just what do you suppose you’re doing?”

But Dagobert has been preparing for just such a reaction, and is not in the least unnerved by his mother’s angry astonishment. He steps forward deliberately, holding a scrap of parchment out to her.

“Nothing more than I was instructed to do, Mother,” he states.

The parchment that her son holds causes an uneasy quivering in Isadora’s gut: she knows that collecting such bits of the valuable writing material, to be used to issue brief written orders during his campaigns, is a habit of her husband’s. But only when both she and Anje, who remains beside her, look up from the small missive do they realize that Dagobert has donned not just any armor, such as he might have bought for a small sum in the Fourth District, or traded for in the stalls of the Third, but an old suit of his father’s, complete with a faded cotton surcoat† emblazoned with the rampant bear of Broken: mother and daughter both know that Dagobert would never have dared put on such a costume, much less have taken hold of the sword at his side (one of many in Sixt’s collection), without his father’s permission.

As Isadora descends the stairs and takes the parchment note from her son, she further realizes — of a sudden, just as she earlier noticed the fullness of Anje’s womanly maturity — how tall and strong Dagobert has become: for his arms and chest fill the shirt of mail that he wears below his leather armor, while his broadening shoulders support the panels of layered leather that cover them in a most handsome manner. Left with no other course, Isadora unfolds the scrap of parchment slowly and reads the message written upon it, in Sixt’s simple hand:

DAGOBERT: IF, WHILE I AM GONE, YOUR MOTHER VENTURES OUT INTO THE CITY AT NIGHT, EVEN WITH THE SERVANTS, ARM YOURSELF WITH MY BEST MARAUDER SWORD,‡ AND ACCOMPANY HER. I RELY ON YOU, MY SON.

— YOUR FATHER

For a moment, Isadora does not move her eyes from the message; but just then, the younger children, with Nuen pursuing them, run in from the room off of the kitchen in which they have been eating. Nuen, despite moving with haste, carries a small iron pot covered with a wooden lid and wrapped in thick white cloth; and it is a demonstration of the small, round woman’s remarkable agility that she keeps the hot stew within from spilling, even when she abruptly comes to a halt behind Golo, Gelie, and Dalin. They, like Isadora and Anje, are stunned by the sight of Dagobert dressed as a seasoned campaigner, enough so that they forget their games for the moment.

“Dagobert!” Golo cries out merrily. “Are you going to join Father, and fight the Bane?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gelie adds, with a short laugh that brings a sour look from Dagobert. Realizing that mocking her brother so openly was unwise, Gelie adds: “Although you look very impressive in Father’s old armor, Dagobert — where are you going, if not to the Wood?”

“Those are matters between Father and me,” Dagobert replies, moving his hand further down to grip the hilt of his marauder sword in what he hopes is a meaningful fashion. “Keep your nose in your own affairs, Gelie — little as it is, someone might still cut it off!”

Gelie’s hands race to cover her face as if her nose might, indeed, be sliced away at any moment, and Dalin laughs out loud.

“Might someone, indeed?” he taunts. “And is that your notion of how a pallin in the God-King’s legions proves himself, Dagobert — by threatening little girls? You will discover differently!”

“That is enough, Master Dalin.” Nuen’s tone is not impertinent, and she executes a small, deferential motion toward Isadora, one that might seem insignificant, by Broken standards, but which the lady of the house knows would be a sign of extreme respect in Nuen’s marauder tribe. The servant emphasizes her meaning by placing the stew pot on a table and moving more speedily than a woodland animal to take Dalin by the back of his shoulders