Of course, Neb knew his own mind was drawing that part of the picture in. But in his mind, he could see right to the melting whites of his father’s eyes, could see the blame and disappointment there.
Eventually, he gave up on the cot. Instead, he slipped out into the night and went to the cart that, true to their words, the Delta Scouts had brought back. Crawling into the back of it, nestled down among the sacks of mail and books and clothing, Neb fell into sleep.
But his dreams were full of fire.‹ st.
Chapter 4
Rudolfo
Battlefields, Rudolfo thought, should not require etiquette, nor be considered affairs of state.
He remained mounted at the head of his army while his captains parleyed with the Overseer’s captains in a moonlit field between the two camps. On the horizon, Windwir smoldered and stank. At last, they broke from parley and his captains returned.
“Well?” he asked.
“They also received the birds and came to offer assistance.”
He sneered. “Came to peck the corpses clean more likely.” Rudolfo had no love for the City States, hunkered like obese carrion birds at the delta of the Three Rivers, imposing their tariffs and taxes as if they owned those broad, flat waters and the sea they spilled into. He looked at Gregoric. “And did they share with you why they broke treaty and magicked their scouts at time of peace?”
Gregoric cleared his throat. “They thought that perhaps we had ridden against Windwir and were honoring their kin-clave. I took the liberty of reminding them of our own kin-clave with the Androfrancines.”
Rudolfo nodded. “So when do I meet with the tremendous sack of moist runt droppings?”
His other captains laughed quietly behind their hands. Gregoric scowled at them. “They will send a bird requesting that you dine with the Overseer and his lady.”
Rudolfo’s eyebrows rose. “His lady?”
Perhaps, he thought, it would not be so ponderous after all.
He dressed in rainbow colors, each hue declaring one of his houses. He did it himself, waving away assistance but motioning for wine. Isaak sat, unspeaking and unmoving, while Rudolfo wrapped himself in silk robes and scarves and sashes and turban.
“I have a few moments,” he told the metal man. “Tell more of your story.”
Light deep in those jeweled eyes sparked and caught. “Very well, Lord.” A click, a clack, a whir. “The parchment containing the missing text of Xhum Y’Zir’s Seven Cacophonic Deaths came to me for cataloging and translat of„ion, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Rudolfo said.
“I worked under the most careful of circumstances, Lord Rudolfo. We kept the new text isolated in a secure location with no danger of the missing words being added to complete the incantation. I was the only mechoservitor to work with the parchment and all knowledge of my previous work with prior fragments was carefully removed.”
Rudolfo nodded. “Removed how?”
The metal man tapped his head. “It’s… complex, Lord. I do not fully understand it myself. But the Androfrancines write metal scrolls and those metal scrolls determine our capacity, our actions, our inactions, our memories.” Isaak shrugged.
Rudolfo studied three different pairs of soft slipper. “Go on.”
The metal man sighed. “There is not much more to tell. I cataloged, translated and copied the missing text. I spent three days and three nights with it, calculating and recalculating my work. In the end, I returned to Brother Charles to have the memory of my work expunged.”
A sudden thought struck him, and Rudolfo raised a hand, unsure why he was so polite with the mechanical. “Is memory of your work always removed?”
“Seldom, actually. Only when the work is of a sensitive or dangerous nature, Lord.”
“Remind me to come back to this question later,” Rudolfo said. “Meanwhile, continue. I must leave soon.”
“I put the parchment in its safe, left the catalog room and watched the Androfrancine Gray Guard lock it behind me. I returned to Brother Charles, but his study was locked. I waited.” The metal man whirred and clicked.
Rudolfo selected a sword in an intricate scabbard, thrusting it through his sash. “And?”
The metal man began to shake. Steam poured out of his exhaust grate. His eyes rolled and a high pitched whine emanated from somewhere deep inside.
“And?” Rudolfo said, sharpness creeping into his voice.
“And all went blank for a moment, Lord. My next memory was standing in the city square, shouting the words of the Seven Cacophonic Deaths-all of the words-into the sky. I tried to stop the utterance.” He sobbed again, his metal body shuddering and groaning. “I could not stop. I tried but could not stop.”
Rudolfo felt the mechanical’s grief, sharp and twisting, in his stomach. He stood at the flap of his tent, needing to leave and not knowing what to say.
The metal man continued. “Finally, I reversed my language scroll. But it was too late. The Death Golems came. The Plague Spiders scuttled. Fire fell from sulfur clouds. All seven deaths.” He sobbed again.
Rudolfo stroked his beard. “And why do you think this happened?”
The metal man looked up, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Lord. Malfunction, perhaps.”
“Or malfeasance,” Rudolfo said. He clapped and Gregoric appeared, slipping out of the night to stand by his side. “I want Isaak here under guard at all times. No one talks to him but me. Do you understand?”
Gregoric nodded. “I understand, General.”
Rudolfo turned to the metal man. “Do you understand as well?”
“Yes, Lord.”
Rudolfo leaned over the metal man to speak quietly in his ear. “Take courage,” he said. “It is possible that you were but the tool of someone else’s ill will.”
Isaak’s words, quoted from the Whymer Bible, surprised him. “Even the plow holds love for splitting the ground; and the sword grief for spilling the blood.”
Rudolfo’s fingers lightly brushed a polished shoulder. “We’ll talk more when I return.”
Outside, the sky grayed in readiness for morning. Rudolfo felt weariness creeping behind his eyes and in the tips of his fingers. He had stolen naps here and there, but hadn’t slept a full night since the message bird’s arrival four days before, calling him and his Wandering Army south and west. After the meal, he told himself. He would sleep then.
His eyes lingered on the ruined city painted purple in the predawn light.
“Gods,” he whispered. “What an unexpected weapon.”
Jin Li Tam
Jin Li Tam hid the stolen magicks pouch in her tent. As she straightened, she heard a polite cough behind her. She spun.
The young lieutenant-the one that had brought her the horse while they were on the road-stood in the openin C inan" g.
She pulled herself to full height. “Yes?”
“Lord Sethbert informs you that Rudolfo and his entourage will be arriving within the hour. The Overseer is expecting you at the banquet table.”
Jin Li Tam nodded. “Thank you. I will be there.”
The lieutenant shuffled uncomfortably, and she could tell that he wanted to say something but was unsure. “Come in from the night, Lieutenant.” She studied him. He couldn’t have been much past twenty and had the solid look of some minor Delta noble’s son, eager to make his mark in the world. She took a step closer to him, but no more because she knew her height might intimidate him, and in this case, for this moment, she wanted his trust. “You wish to say something?”
His eyes moved around the room and he twisted his cap in his hands. “I wish to ask a question.” The words came out slowly, then sped up. “But I’m not sure I want to know.”