He stood in one of the tiny open gardens of Manhome, a struggling patch of green that nestled in the plateau of the city like a spot of lichen. The ocean spread below him, reflecting the many lights of the city in imitation of the nighttime sky above.
The chills he felt were deeper and stronger than the sea wind that blew against him. Ravig had always been a practical man. A guardsman had to be. Myths and angels were the province of those poor souls who entered the College. Ravig would happily live his entire life without once considering anything except the law and the world beneath his feet.
But what was a practical man supposed to do when the College’s angels walked the same earth he did?
“Armsman Ravig?”
Ravig turned to face the Armsmaster of Manhome.
“Master Ehrid.”
Ehrid Kharyn walked to the stone railing that separated the garden from a sheer drop to a cobbled street below. “You’ve served well Manhome and the Monarch today, my friend.”
“Your praise is welcome, but unearned. A farmer found the wretched beast, not I. And the College is not pleased with me.”
“I know.” Master Ehrid shook his head and stared out at the water. “Their scholars believe that any contact with your ‘wretched beast’ is too dangerous. They want trials and hearings and executions.”
“We only did what they asked of us.”
“A point repeatedly made.” Ehrid sighed. “Fortunately, I think they may realize that we are as essential to them as their ghadi. They only want one example.”
Ravig’s cloak suddenly did nothing to relieve the cold. “One example?”
“You understand who.”
“No. It was a single slip, a moment of curiosity. I’ve already reprimanded him.”
“It was a breach of the law, and it was insubordinate.” Ehrid turned to look at Ravig. “I find it a cruel fate, as you do. But the College is within its rights.”
Ravig shook his head. In his mind he was replaying the incident over and over. How his youngest guardsman, Alogas, looked through the items—stared at them—when they took the possessions from the babbling creature they had captured. Such things were taboo, not to be studied except by the eyes inside the College of Man. Ravig had hoped the breach was too minor to notice. “What has Alogas done that my other men have not?”
“Be thankful that the College makes a distinction.” Ehrid’s voice was cold and distant. “They have already taken him.”
“What?” Ravig’s head swam. “They’ve taken—Not even a plea on his behalf?” He grabbed Ehrid and pulled him around. Touching the Armsmaster of Manhome in such a manner was worthy of his own execution, but Ravig was angry past caring. “Did you call me here only to prevent me from intervening? From defending Alogas?”
Ehrid looked down at Ravig. “To prevent you from being lost to the College. I need you. The Monarch needs you.”
Ravig let go. “A Monarch who cannot even defend the men who serve Him.”
“Mind yourself.” Ehrid smoothed his cloak where Ravig had gripped it. “I know your pain right now, but you’ve exhausted the license it gives you.”
Ravig backed up a step, straightened, and gave a stiff salute. “I await the Armsmaster’s pleasure, and that of the Monarch.”
“Good. Then please relate exactly the events you were a party to.” Ehrid turned back toward the ocean. “Especially what the scholars of the College might have said in your presence once you delivered to them the creature they sought.”
Dawn broke over Manhome, burning off the mists that hugged the base of the plateau and bringing the call of sea birds feeding off the waste of the city. Ehrid stood on his balcony, looking into the ocean. Something about the water both terrified and fascinated him. Like fate or history, it was something whose depth and breadth was unimpressed by any one man. Something vast and implacable to which all men, from Monarch to beggar, were little more than grains of sand.
He had yet
The chills he felt were deeper and stronger than the sea wind that blew against him. Ravig had always been a practical man. A guardsman had to be. Myths and angels were the province of those poor souls who entered the College. Ravig would happily live his entire life without once considering anything except the law and the world beneath his feet.
But what was a practical man supposed to do when the College’s angels walked the same earth he did?
“Armsman Ravig?”
Ravig turned to face the Armsmaster of Manhome.
“Master Ehrid.”
Ehrid Kharyn walked to the stone railing that separated the garden from a sheer drop to a cobbled street below. “You’ve served well Manhome and the Monarch today, my friend.”
“Your praise is welcome, but unearned. A farmer found the wretched beast, not I. And the College is not pleased with me.”
“I know.” Master Ehrid shook his head and stared out at the water. “Their scholars believe that any contact with your ‘wretched beast’ is too dangerous. They want trials and hearings and executions.”
“We only did what they asked of us.”
“A point repeatedly made.” Ehrid sighed. “Fortunately, I think they may realize that we are as essential to them as their ghadi. They only want one example.”
Ravig’s cloak suddenly did nothing to relieve the cold. “One example?”
“You understand who.”
“No. It was a single slip, a moment of curiosity. I’ve already reprimanded him.”
“It was a breach of the law, and it was insubordinate.” Ehrid turned to look at Ravig. “I find it a cruel fate, as you do. But the College is within its rights.”
Ravig shook his head. In his mind he was replaying the incident over and over. How his youngest guardsman, Alogas, looked through the items—stared at them—when they took the possessions from the babbling creature they had captured. Such things were taboo, not to be studied except by the eyes inside the College of Man. Ravig had hoped the breach was too minor to notice. “What has Alogas done that my other men have not?”
“Be thankful that the College makes a distinction.” Ehrid’s voice was cold and distant. “They have already taken him.”
“What?” Ravig’s head swam. “They’ve taken—Not even a plea on his behalf?” He grabbed Ehrid and pulled him around. Touching the Armsmaster of Manhome in such a manner was worthy of his own execution, but Ravig was angry past caring. “Did you call me here only to prevent me from intervening? From defending Alogas?”
Ehrid looked down at Ravig. “To prevent you from being lost to the College. I need you. The Monarch needs you.”
Ravig let go. “A Monarch who cannot even defend the men who serve Him.”
“Mind yourself.” Ehrid smoothed his cloak where Ravig had gripped it. “I know your pain right now, but you’ve exhausted the license it gives you.”
Ravig backed up a step, straightened, and gave a stiff salute. “I await the Armsmaster’s pleasure, and that of the Monarch.”
“Good. Then please relate exactly the events you were a party to.” Ehrid turned back toward the ocean. “Especially what the scholars of the College might have said in your presence once you delivered to them the creature they sought.”
Dawn broke over Manhome, burning off the mists that hugged the base of the plateau and bringing the call of sea birds feeding off the waste of the city. Ehrid stood on his balcony, looking into the ocean. Something about the water both terrified and fascinated him. Like fate or history, it was something whose depth and breadth was unimpressed by any one man. Something vast and implacable to which all men, from Monarch to beggar, were little more than grains of sand.
He had yet
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