“You are aware of the intent behind my question, I think, Sentek,” Visimar says. “Certainly, I do not seek your opinion of the weather.”
Hoping that concession on his part will produce movement on to more pressing affairs, Arnem holds his hands out in resignation and says, “If you are asking whether I have this morning found such words as have eluded me for the last eight years, I can only tell you — as I have for two days, Anselm — that I have not.” Arnem refers to his companion by the latter’s assumed appellation, lest any passing soldier recognize the legendary, indeed the infamous name of Visimar, which, for close on twenty years, has ranked second only to that of Caliphestros in its power to frighten the children of Broken: children who have grown up to become, in many cases, the sentek’s youngest pallins, such as Arnem’s companion on the walls of several nights earlier, Ban-chindo. Such young men are scarcely more than boys, at heart, however powerful their bodies have grown during many months of relentless training. And the faces of those youngest soldiers have appeared ever more boyish still, it seems to Arnem, with every mile that the column has put between itself and home.
“I begin to wonder if my aide was not correct, old man,” Arnem says, half-seriously. “Perhaps bringing your blasphemous old bones along was a mistake.”
“I am not quite so ‘old’ as the suffering inflicted by the priests of Kafra makes me appear, Sentek,” Visimar replies. “And, if I may voice the obvious, you are no devout member of that faith, to speak of ‘blasphemy’ as though you mean it. Was it not your doubts about the absurd faith of the golden god that inspired you to invite me on this march? I believe so — and I believe that you know it, in your heart.”
Arnem’s aspect darkens. “I warn you, Visimar,” he says quietly, after he has made sure that no other has heard the old man’s words. “Try my patience all you like — but unsettle my men, put doubt into their heads, and I shall pack you off to the merchants and priests in Broken, and let them finish their work.” The sentek turns to watch the last unit of cavalry pass by, two abreast, and then studies the first of the infantry, who march four-wide: a tight formation designed to keep each of the two khotors ready to wheel quickly into the infantry and cavalry quadrates† that are their standard defensive battle formation, should the Bane be foolish enough to attack so far from Davon Wood. For all the wise caution of the formation, it also makes the words that pass between Arnem and his officers, and especially his conversations with “Anselm,” more audible to his men; and this is why the sentek warns his guest so quietly, yet so sternly.
For his part, Visimar watches the soldiers pass for a moment; and, having taken their measure, he nods judiciously. “You are right, Sentek,” he says, surprising Arnem. “I shall endeavor to be more careful.” He seems to genuinely regret that he was briefly provocative. “Too many years of playing the madman in back alleys and taverns have, I fear, made me foolhardy. It is the great danger of disguise — if we play our assumed roles too long, we risk losing our way back. Do you not think so, Sentek?”
Two days ago, the remark would have startled Arnem, who had not known, as he left Broken, exactly what “role” his impetuously chosen companion would play during this campaign, other than (as he told Niksar) the sort of idiot that soldiers are fond of having about camp. Men faced with the reality of death nearly every day (whether from wounds or from pestilence) are as superstitious as old women; and one of the most popular superstitions among Broken troops is that a madman’s touched mind allows him to make sense of what sane soldiers cannot — the chaos of conflict.‡ It is an ability that transforms such peculiar souls into agents of good fortune, who may increase a man’s, and even an army’s, chances of surviving the shapeless tumult of war.
Such had been Arnem’s outward justification for enlisting “Anselm”; and the older man has played his role well. He has also, more importantly, given not only Arnem, but the sentek’s troops, some explanation for the blackness of mood displayed by the farmers, fishermen, and seksents†† along the Daurawah Road: for their complaints have been voiced, not only to Arnem and his officers (particularly to those linnets-of-the-line† who are generally the first officers to enter each community), but to the sentek’s bemused legionaries. The whole of Arnem’s column are now aware that the affairs of the kingdom of Broken are badly out of joint: never a safe thing for soldiers to have gnawing at their minds. The schemes regarding trade might be counted as simply another ploy of the ruthless ruling class of Broken to increase their profits; but such weakening of the kingdom’s own industry by illegal imported goods is forbidden by Kafran law. In addition, the supposed “traders” bear the appearance of raiders, with whom the merchants of Broken are forbidden to treat. Most unsettling of all, reports are rife that the authorities who are entrusted with protecting Broken’s commerce from such foreign goods (from the Grand Layzin and the powerful Merchant Lord, all the long way down to local magistrates) are aware of the true origins of many of the shipments of goods with which unscrupulous men line their pockets at the expense of humbler subjects. There are even rumors that these lofty royal servants do worse than ignore these merchant dealings — they profit from them …
In reaction to the villagers’ complaints, Arnem has explained to his officers (at Visimar’s — or “Anselm’s”—urgings, which are supported by the madman’s “visions”) that the grumblings are fantastic concoctions, designed to explain away the ill fortune of those subjects lacking the nerve to survive in the heated competition of Broken’s marketplaces; and each officer has been careful to pass this on to his men. At the same time, the sentek has also explained earnestly to those town elders whom he has encountered that neither he nor his officers have been made aware of any such treasonous shifts in trade practices, and that the leaders of the army possess no authority to address purely commercial issues — the conduct of trade being, within the Kafran faith, ultimately a sacred, not a secular, activity. Nevertheless, Arnem has repeatedly pledged that, when he reaches Daurawah, he will seek out nefarious traders, and will extract from them, not only the names of their partners within Broken, but whether they possess written dispensation to carry on so sacrilegious a form of commerce. Throughout the first days of his march, this has sufficed to placate the townspeople, and he has departed each community with such meager stores of provisions and fodder as its elders can supply—