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self-destruction,
of course, for she would be the first to die.
She told Emil she agreed to his plan and left for the garrison. But before
she
reached the front door two Paladins had been summoned to join her, and as
soon
as she stepped outside a raven swooped down, then disappeared in night. She
did
not think to even send a message to Seth, for she did not think of her at all.
Chapter 3
That night, Seth had not stirred from sleep until a chill crept into the
vacancy
where Clement had been sleeping. She opened her eyes to see Clement at the
bedroom door, yanking on her trousers while asking sharp questions of the
Paladin who stood there with a lamp. The flame was trembling violently. Thus
their sweet night together had ended, and any more such nights soon began to
seem beyond possibility.
People die all the time, and Seth had laid a daughter, a son, a wife, and
several parents upon the pyre. But she had never before scrubbed puddles of
congealed blood from a floor, nor had she helped to lay out the bodies of
people
she did not even knowùseven of them! Paladins, clerks, librariansùpeople who
had
traveled far from their homes to offer their services, people like Seth. Now
they had died among strangers, and among strangers they would be burned.
Seth could not endure this prospect. In Travesty and in the city, confusion
became fear, and fear became anger. Though Seth certainly was as distressed
and
angry as anyone, she set about making friends, something she had never before
done so deliberately. Three days after the assassinations, she knew the names
and life histories of at least thirty people, which was the typical size of a
farm family. Then she felt as if she could die without feeling too alone; and
her desire to return home to Basdown, to her family, while it did not
disappear,
at least became less desperate.
Her friends included councilors, Paladins, tradespeople, cooks, all the
children
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she could find, various animals in the immediate neighborhood, and even the
agreeable soldier Damon, whom she visited when he was on guard duty. Seth
brought him and his partner treats from Garland's kitchen. The Sainnites were
not starving but were being fed swill, according to Garland, and they lusted
after hot bread, fresh meat, and anything with sugar in it. Damon told her
that
the garrison commanders had arrived from all across Shaftal, and they were in
foul tempers. "They are like old horses who only know how to go down one
road,"
he said.
Seth asked her councilor friends if they knew what their duties were to be.
No
one had told anyone what they were supposed to be doing, but soon they
determined that their first duty must be to invent themselves. The night
before
the funerals, they all went together to a tavern, ostensibly to figure out
how
making themselves into councilors was to be accomplished. Unfortunately, the
tavern keeper was extremely generous with the beer, and more and more people
kept arriving, all discussing the same topic in an outraged roar that
overwhelmed all else: the attack on Travesty, the attack on Karis.
Purposeful,
sensible conversation became hopeless.
Seth began to have a headache. When the tavern keeper tapped Seth's shoulder
and
told her some people wanted to speak to her in private, she stood up, saying,
"I
was about to leave, anyway."
"I know these," the tavern keeper assured her. "The cobblers shop is right
across the street there, and the butcher has supplied my meat for twenty
years."
He forged a path through the tavern, and she stuck close enough to nip his
heels, for the people kept trying to close the way before she had made use of
it.
The tavern keeper took her to a room down the hall, and she heaved a sigh of
relief as the door was closed and the racket was shut out. "I'm Mariseth of
Basdown," she said to the four gathered there, and also to the tavern keeper,
who seemed to have decided to remain. "I don't know what you want of meùbut
you
should speak to the Watfield councilor, shouldn't you?"
"Oh, we did talk to him," said a woman whose big arms and red face made Seth
think she might be the butcher.
A man, the cobbler maybe, because he squinted at her as though she were a
shoe,
said, "You live at Travesty, the councilor told us."
Another, who for no good reason seemed a greengrocer, said, "Is it true that
Karis has not slept since the attack?"
It seemed like the kind of question people ask, not because they are curious,
but because they want to help. Seth sat down and allowed the tavern keeper to
pour her a cup of tea. "No one is sleeping well in that house," she said.
"But we've heard that she won't allow the doors to be locked."
"Is it true there's less than ten Paladins guarding her?
"And that she sits awake in a hard chair all night?"
"And no one can persuade her to lie down?"
"Is she frightened? Is she heartbroken?"
The people peered concernedly at Seth.
She said, "The doors are not locked, and there aren't very many Paladins. As
for
the rest of your questions, I don't know the answers. I did see her at
breakfast
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this morning. She doesn't talkùand she looks very tired. Butù"
She had intended to explain that she didn't know whether or not Karis was
always
tired or quiet in the morning. But she could not finish, for the butcher
cried,
"It is not right!"
"We must do something!" said another. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]