tool, an ornament or a weapon?” She frowned. “You’d be amazed how many people turn out to be weapons. But as often as not, a weapon can only save a life by taking one. I’ve had a good few students in my classes that were almost too dangerous to handle, but they all turned out good in the end, once we figured what they were for. There are no bad things and no bad people. Just bad uses.” She smiled again. “Are we getting there?”
“I think so,” Chanso said. “I’m not sure I agree, but—”
“You understand.” She nodded. “That’s the main thing. Agreeing can wait. Sooner or later, nearly everyone accepts that the sun is warm and water is wet. And once you’ve accepted that, all the rest will inevitably follow. Meanwhile—” over her shoulder he could see Myrtus coming back with a teapot and a plate “—I suggest you enjoy the free food and the safety. They’re both hard to come by anywhere else.”
Myrtus went to find out the news and came back looking thoughtful. Senza Belot, it was reliably confirmed, had survived the battle. He’d stayed to the bitter end, then rushed off alone with five hundred lancers chasing him, but he’d made it to the border and was now back in Choris, in prison, awaiting the emperor’s justice.
Forza Belot was also confirmed alive. He had been ordered to report to Iden Astea, to explain to his emperor why deliberately losing seventy thousand men in one battle could possibly be construed as a victory, or a good idea. He had not yet obeyed the order, and his whereabouts were not known. Meanwhile, press gangs were frantically recruiting all over the Western empire, and no man over twelve or under seventy was safe; the emperor was reported to be offering ridiculous money for mercenaries, with the result that the few soldiers he still had were deserting from the regular army and signing on with the free companies. Rasch Cuiber, which had been well fed throughout the siege, was now starving because all the farms for miles around were deserted; instead of coming back when the Easterners left, the country people were staying hidden in the wilderness, for fear of the recruiting sergeants. Attempts to send a relief caravan had foundered because there were no carts, no horses and no carters willing to risk impressment. The emperor was therefore seriously considering evacuating Rasch, sending its people to Iden and burning the city itself to the ground, to keep such a well-fortified stronghold from falling into enemy hands.
Ioto was forty-eight miles from the coast, sixty if you took the flat, straight road that skirted the mountains; sometimes it was quicker, sometimes not, depending on the state of the mountain passes. The iron wagons took the long road, and it was crowded with them – some days, they reckoned, you could walk to the sea across the beds and booms of carts, and get there quicker. There were six famous inns on the long road. “We’ll go that way,” Myrtus decided. “It’s not like we’re in a tearing hurry.”
Much as he’d like to, Myrtus explained, he wasn’t going to Beal Defoir. At the coast he’d hand Chanso over to another agent, get his next assignment and be off again, unless his luck was in and there were orders waiting for him to head for Division or Central. No, he had no idea who the agent would be— “though if you’re really lucky, you might just get my wife. You’ll like her, and she’ll get you there quickly with the minimum of aggravation. Her name’s Tenevris: tall, bony woman with bushy red hair. Light of my life. If you do see her, give her my love.”
The Crown of Absolution was as full as Myrtus had ever seen it, mostly with carters; no hope of a bed for the night, or even a designated area of straw. And then Myrtus asked various questions about the innkeeper’s uncle, and suddenly there was a room, in fact there were two, and dinner was on the house.
Chanso, who’d only slept under a roof twice before, lay awake most
“I think so,” Chanso said. “I’m not sure I agree, but—”
“You understand.” She nodded. “That’s the main thing. Agreeing can wait. Sooner or later, nearly everyone accepts that the sun is warm and water is wet. And once you’ve accepted that, all the rest will inevitably follow. Meanwhile—” over her shoulder he could see Myrtus coming back with a teapot and a plate “—I suggest you enjoy the free food and the safety. They’re both hard to come by anywhere else.”
Myrtus went to find out the news and came back looking thoughtful. Senza Belot, it was reliably confirmed, had survived the battle. He’d stayed to the bitter end, then rushed off alone with five hundred lancers chasing him, but he’d made it to the border and was now back in Choris, in prison, awaiting the emperor’s justice.
Forza Belot was also confirmed alive. He had been ordered to report to Iden Astea, to explain to his emperor why deliberately losing seventy thousand men in one battle could possibly be construed as a victory, or a good idea. He had not yet obeyed the order, and his whereabouts were not known. Meanwhile, press gangs were frantically recruiting all over the Western empire, and no man over twelve or under seventy was safe; the emperor was reported to be offering ridiculous money for mercenaries, with the result that the few soldiers he still had were deserting from the regular army and signing on with the free companies. Rasch Cuiber, which had been well fed throughout the siege, was now starving because all the farms for miles around were deserted; instead of coming back when the Easterners left, the country people were staying hidden in the wilderness, for fear of the recruiting sergeants. Attempts to send a relief caravan had foundered because there were no carts, no horses and no carters willing to risk impressment. The emperor was therefore seriously considering evacuating Rasch, sending its people to Iden and burning the city itself to the ground, to keep such a well-fortified stronghold from falling into enemy hands.
Ioto was forty-eight miles from the coast, sixty if you took the flat, straight road that skirted the mountains; sometimes it was quicker, sometimes not, depending on the state of the mountain passes. The iron wagons took the long road, and it was crowded with them – some days, they reckoned, you could walk to the sea across the beds and booms of carts, and get there quicker. There were six famous inns on the long road. “We’ll go that way,” Myrtus decided. “It’s not like we’re in a tearing hurry.”
Much as he’d like to, Myrtus explained, he wasn’t going to Beal Defoir. At the coast he’d hand Chanso over to another agent, get his next assignment and be off again, unless his luck was in and there were orders waiting for him to head for Division or Central. No, he had no idea who the agent would be— “though if you’re really lucky, you might just get my wife. You’ll like her, and she’ll get you there quickly with the minimum of aggravation. Her name’s Tenevris: tall, bony woman with bushy red hair. Light of my life. If you do see her, give her my love.”
The Crown of Absolution was as full as Myrtus had ever seen it, mostly with carters; no hope of a bed for the night, or even a designated area of straw. And then Myrtus asked various questions about the innkeeper’s uncle, and suddenly there was a room, in fact there were two, and dinner was on the house.
Chanso, who’d only slept under a roof twice before, lay awake most
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