She watched his eyes, looking for an awareness she knew she couldn’t see. But she knew from the tears that leaked out from them that he understood at least part of the equation {f t co. If this mechanical wonder had indeed brought down the City of Windwir with his very words, what risk could he be to the last of the Androfrancines?
But the other side of the equation would not bother him at all, she knew. He’d welcome it, even ask for it, in the hopes that it would help him shed the weight of guilt she saw him bear with every step. She doubted even the hope of rebuilding the library could be strong enough to lift something so heavy from him.
Stay with Isaak, Rudolfo had written.
But it wasn’t Rudolfo’s words that moved her. No. It was the other side of that equation that sent Jin Li Tam down the stairs to pack what little she had in preparation for her journey with the metal man who had been Sethbert’s sword at the throat of a city.
She didn’t worry that Isaak could ever be used in such a way again. She was certain he would not permit it. But then there was the other side.
What risk would the last of the Androfrancines be to him?
Petronus
Petronus led the small group of men over the last rise, and those who hadn’t already seen it fell back, gasping, at what they saw there.
They pushed wheelbarrows full of tools, and those with mules or horses pulled small carts along behind them. Petronus looked them over and shook his head.
Damn Pope Resolute and his Exercise of Holiness. It had cost him two thirds of the crowd. No one wanted to tangle on the wrong side of Sethbert’s army. They were all smart enough to know that the Exercise was to keep people from digging, and gravediggers were diggers nonetheless.
He looked down at the boy. He hadn’t spoken again for two days now, but Petronus was fairly certain that he could if he wanted to. “But you don’t have to,” he’d told Neb when he realized that he hadn’t spoken since, “if you don’t want to.”
As they crested the rise, Petronus saw birds fly out of the forest, moving north of them, their wings beating furiously. He read their colors and smiled. A horse pulled out from a copse of trees not far from the edge of the blasted area. It rode toward them, and Petronus saw ripples of wind in the grass to the left and right of the rider.
He waited until the young lieutenant pulled up and hailed him. “Windwir is closed,” he said.
The wind rippled out as the magicked scouts took up positions around them.
Petronus pointed. “Windwir is a {;Wiv› field of bones. We aim to bury them.”
The faintest hint of surprise registered on the young man’s face. “I’m afraid I can’t let you pass.”
Petronus stepped closer. “What is your name, Lieutenant?”
“Brint,” the young man said. He studied Petronus and the motley band of travelers.
“Have you not faced a loved one’s passing?”
Petronus watched the young man’s face. He saw the stab of loss rise to the surface and then quickly vanish as the officer forced his emotions aside. It was just slight enough that the untrained eye might miss it, and Petronus suddenly realized he wasn’t dealing with the spoiled son of an Entrolusian noble.
Petronus’s hands moved close to his body so that others could not see. Whose are you? he signed, first in the intelligence subverbal of the Forest Houses and then in the hand dialect of House Li Tam.
The lieutenant blinked but kept his own hands still. “I have seen several loved ones pass,” he said in a quiet voice.
Petronus leaned forward, his voice also low. “Did you bury them or let them lie where they fell?”
The first look was anger, but it was followed by a look of deep weariness. The lieutenant said nothing for a full minute, then stared down at Petronus. He whistled, and the wind blew back from around them as the Delta Scouts retreated. When they were out of earshot, he leaned down from his saddle and spoke in a quiet voice.
“Be watchful. I can let you pass but I cannot keep you safe.”
“The light will keep us safe,” Petronus said, quoting the Whymer Bible’s opening admonition.
The young lieutenant shook his head. “There is no light now.” He looked around again, scanning for any sign that his men were nearby. “And the one now asked to guard it is the same who snuffed it out. You will not be safe here.”
Then, he turned his horse and rode off in the direction of the wind.
By nightfall, Petronus and his ragged band of gravediggers had set up their camp by the river, just outside what had once been the river dock gate and clearly in compliance with the Exercise of Holiness. That area had been granted special Dispensation to keep the supply chain moving through the duration of the Exercise in years past.
The one good thing about having been Pope was understanding the rules one had to play by.
Rudolfo
Rudolfo and his escort rode northwest to the Papal Summer Palace high up and secluded in the Dragon’s Spine. Riding high in his saddle, he could see the purple line of those jagged peaks on the horizon. Once they reached the foothills, they’d turn west and follow them until they found the Waybringer’s Path and followed it up to the palace and the village that had sprung up around it to care for the Androfrancine foothold when it was not in use.
He’d left two mornings ago, slipping out of the camp before the sun rose, dressed in subdued colors and trading his turban for a black hood. His half-squad of scouts rode, too. He would not have it otherwise, and he would not approach this so-called Pope with magicked scouts regardless of the war.
“What will you do?” Gregoric had asked him as he climbed into the saddle.
Rudolfo had settled himself in, whipping his dark cloak over his shoulder. “I will tell the truth,” he said, smiling despite the weariness that pulled at him. “Though I’m not sure they will hear it.”
He’d seen the note declaring the Exercise of Holiness and had crumpled it into a ball when he saw that Sethbert had been deputized by the new King of Windwir.
That pompous cesspool carp had sent him a note three days before the Papal decree. Rudolfo should have expected this sudden setback.
You will pay for what you have done, the note read, and Rudolfo knew that though on the surface it could be read in many ways, it was about the Lady Jin Li Tam. It had taken some time for the spies to take word back to the Overseer-largely because the one Physician of Penitent Torture Rudolfo had brought along had not yet finished redeeming them, turning them to Rudolfo’s cause. Rudolfo was pleased to send those spies back to Sethbert with news of his betrothal to Jin Li Tam.
Perhaps, he thought, that had been an error in judgment.
The forests and grasslands stretched out before them now and they raced north, stopping only when they had to. The narrow road-more a track really-passed through a few scattered settlements, but the riders stayed low on their horses, their eyes fixed on the line of mountains.
They rounded a corner and a white bird dropped from the sky into Rudolfo’s net. He held up his hand and they halted. They waited, and Lieutenant Alyn, the lead scout, made his way back to them ten or fifteen minutes later.
“There’s an Androfrancine caravan yonder,” he said, pointing to a point where the road disap {thes Npeared around a slight rise. “Mostly on foot. A few with carts or wagons.”
Rudolfo stroked his beard. “Are they armed?”
The scout nodded. “A few guards-none in gray. They look to be up from Pylos or Turam.”
Making their way to the Palace, he realized, compelled to obey their Pope. “Very well,” Rudolfo said. “I will ride forward. You will accompany me.” The others looked uncomfortable but unsurprised. “The rest of you-follow at a distance.”