Lord Akhenabi was absent, but his chief lieutenant Jikkyo, whose blind, white eyes belied his knowledge of all that concerned the Singers’ order, had come in his master’s place with underlings of his own, explaining that the Lord of Song was busy tending the slumbers of Queen Utuk’ku.
The Order of Sacrifice was doubly represented, both by General Suno’ku and the order’s leader, Muyare, who had replaced dead Ekisuno as high marshal. Broad, stern-faced Muyare was Suno’ku’s distant cousin, her senior, and—despite her fame and growing popularity among the lesser castes of Nakkiga—her commander.
When High Celebrant Zuniyabe indicated that they could start, Viyeki’s master Yaarike extended his fingers in a gesture of polite inquiry. “What of the Harvesters, the Summoners, and the Echoes?” he asked. “I do not see any of them. Have they nothing to say to this council?”
“We thought it best to keep this small, so that we might talk as openly as possible.” Suno’ku spoke before Zuniyabe or her superior had even opened their mouths. Viyeki thought Marshal Muyare looked a little regretful when he finally spoke.
“General Suno’ku is correct,” he said. “We need only the orders who are already present to discuss the things that must occupy us today. And of course, that which concerns us most are the mortals who even now gather outside our door.”
“And thus we strike the most important vein,” said Zuniyabe. “Magister Yaarike, what news do you have on your order’s preparations?”
Yaarike took a moment to consider the string of tally-beads before him. “Forgive me. In my age, I do not remember every detail as I should. That is why I have brought Host Foreman Viyeki. You all know him, I think.”
The others nodded. The Singer Jikkyo turned a bland smile in Viyeki’s direction. “We have not met, but I have heard his name. You are welcome to our deliberations, Host Foreman.” Viyeki made a ritual gesture of gratitude, but he felt as though he had been greeted by a serpent who had not yet warmed enough to bite, but might soon feel up to it.
Formalities finished, Magister Yaarike went on to detail the various works in which the Order of Builders was occupied—shoring up defenses around and above the gate, clearing old tunnels which had fallen out of use but might be important in the days to come, and a dozen other such unsurprising tasks. Viyeki prompted him once or twice, but he doubted that his master had truly forgotten anything: it was Yaarike’s way to seem more distracted and forgetful than he truly was, at least in public meetings.
“And our brave Sacrifices?” Zuniyabe asked when Yaarike had finished. “How do your preparations go, Marshal?”
Muyare made a sign of acceptance, acknowledging the question. High Celebrant Zuniyabe held no more power than the leader of any other order, and certainly was not as feared as Akhenabi, but as keepers of tradition the Celebrants gave shape to gatherings like these.
“As well as can be expected.” Muyare glanced briefly at the scroll he had unrolled on the tabletop. “We suffered terrible losses in the south, as all know. Barely half a thousand trained Sacrifices remain here in Nakkiga, and even if others are still trying to return, they will not be able to pass the ring of mortals and their siege. We are desperately outnumbered.”
The moment of silence that followed this did not last long. “Our danger is great, but we cannot only dwell on this present struggle,” said General Suno’ku. “We need to think also of the future.” Even though she did not speak loudly, the strong, clear tones of her voice drew their attention away from the marshal as if he had suddenly disappeared.
“And what does that mean, General?” asked Jikkyo. The blind Singer’s hands were folded before him, his face toward the table as though in deep meditation, but it was impossible to ignore the sharpness in his voice. “If we do not succeed in the present, there is no future—or am I being unduly pessimistic?”
“I wish you were, Lord Jikkyo,” said Suno’ku. “But the problems of tomorrow must not be ignored even in the midst of today’s terrors.”
“Enlighten us, then, please,” said Yaarike, and anyone who did not know the man would have thought him brusque, but Viyeki recognized a hidden edge of mischief in his master’s words. Surrounded by such venerable and powerful nobles, there were currents too deep for Viyeki to understand; he could not help admiring the way Suno’ku waded without hesitation into the dangerous waters.
“Yes, I will speak,” she said, “but first my master Muyare would finish telling you of the preparations the Order of Sacrifice has made.” She turned to him. “High Marshal?”
Suno’ku, despite her youth and rank, was all but giving orders to her superior, her own clansman. But instead of the cold indignation Viyeki expected, the marshal only nodded and then calmly outlined the various efforts his order was making to spread their thin troops over as many potential danger spots as possible. He answered the questions from the other councillors with a sort of numb honesty, as if he could not be bothered at this late date to pretend that their position was anything but hopeless.
“And the gate itself, Lord Jikkyo, Lord Yaarike?” Muyare asked when he had finished his recitation. “How long can it hold?”
Jikkyo unfolded his fingers and made a complicated sign that Viyeki did not understand, part of the Singers’ own private language, never shared with other orders. “The gate, as well as many of our other most important measures of defense, has always been guarded by the queen’s will. As she grew stronger, she was determined to keep her people safe. Health and long life to the Mother of All!”
The rest dutifully repeated it.
“But that is our greatest problem,” Jikkyo continued in his soft voice. He seemed so much the gentle old man that it was hard to reconcile his appearance and manner with the dark tales Viyeki had heard about him, of disturbing exhibitions behind the closed doors of his ancient mansion and the terrifying fates of several of his rivals. But Viyeki did not doubt those rumors: only a creature of unbreakable will and great power could ever rise so high in the Order of Song.
“As you know,” said Jikkyo, “after the disaster at Asu’a, the queen sleeps so deeply that it may be a long time until she awakens. We at this table are not children or slaves to be fed reassuring tales, so let us not chop our words too fine—our defeat in the south was terrible, and the queen suffered greatly from it. My master Akhenabi says that she will return to us, but even he in his awesome wisdom cannot say when, and we all doubt it will be soon. So the gate is weak. Yes, it is still a thing of stout witchwood wound with the powerful songs of its making, but without the will of the waking queen behind it, it is but a thing. A mighty thing, but a thing nonetheless, and things can be broken.”
Finished, he folded his fingers again and turned his sightless eyes toward the ceiling, as if in contemplation of something above and beyond the mountain itself.
“I can only echo what Lord Jikkyo has told us,” Yaarike said. “My Builders will give their all to strengthen the mountain’s defenses, including the gates, but our resources and time are limited.”
A melancholy silence fell over the Council Hall.
“And the thing you wished to discuss, General Suno’ku?” asked Zuniyabe. “It seems it is now time to hear your idea. May the Garden grant it brings us some hope.”
“I cannot speak to hope, which is an elusive and often false friend,” she said. “What I suggest is simply this. If the gate is breached, then every dweller in our city must be armed, high caste or low, because there are not enough Sacrifices left to defend Nakkiga should the mortals enter.”
Several voices spoke at once, but the High Celebrant gestured for silence. “Arm our slaves?” Zuniyabe asked, his legendary calm clearly taxed to its limit. “Are you truly suggesting we arm the lower castes and the slaves, General? To what point? If the Sacrifices fall and the high houses and orders are undefended, then even if the mortals were driven out again what would be left? A disorderly, armed rabble finally able to give vent to their mindless rage?”