'Where are they now?' Nekkar had learned to keep his tone even so no feeling spilled.
'The one that fought had to be put down, like a frothing dog. The other two are in the pen out back. Maybe you can talk some sense into them before they're cleansed.'
'Perhaps they might be whipped and given a sentence of labor in the brickyards. Lads will lose their temper.'
'One of my men got a big cut on the head and a concussion from getting grazed by a brick. If I let that go, more will come out. They brought it on themselves.'
The cup trembled in Nekkar's hands. The pretty girl in the expensive silk was clutching one of the porch pillars so hard her hand had whitened at the knuckles, but she had such a bland smile on her face that she looked stupid. He'd not seen her before, nor had she the familiar features of any of the local Stone Quarter families. 'I'll speak to them, Sergeant. What of the rations chits for today?'
'We've got nothing for you today.'
'Folk who don't eat, can't work.'
'Folk who don't work, can't eat. No wagons came in yesterday, so there's nothing to distribute.'
This blatant lie Nekkar let pass, even as he thought of the sacks of rice and nai in the market being offered at prices no one could afford. 'Perhaps men might be allowed to work in groups in the fields, to prepare the ground for the rains. Each clan can grow rice for its own needs.'
'Neh, I doubt Captain Parron will agree. He's got laborers on the fields already.'
'Yet we are always short of food, Sergeant.'
'There have been enough incidents outside the walls — fights, runaways, all manner of trouble — that the captain will not allow it, and you know he's in charge, not me.'
'If folk are not allowed to plant fields, then what will there be to eat a year from now?'
The sergeant shrugged. 'I'll be transferred on by then.' He beckoned to the lass and, when she hurried over, pinched her behind and afterward handed her the cup. 'Take this inside.'
She hurried inside, not looking back.
'I haven't seen her before,' said Nekkar cautiously.
'Good breasts and ass, but a bit of a stammering lackwit. Look how she forgot to take your cup. She's a village girl from up-country Captain Parron was keeping, but he got in new girls last night and passed this one on to me. Tasty enough, eh?'
Nekkar thought of Seyra, of all the young female novices and envoys under his protection. He might have raged or wept but instead sipped at the dregs of his tea, the leavings like ashes in his mouth.
'I can't keep four women. I've had that girl Fala the longest. She's from around here, isn't she? I'll send her on to the barracks.'
If the sergeant heard Fala's gasp from the shadows, he did not show it by expression or comment.
Nekkar felt his face burn with anger and fear, but he kept his voice calm. 'Fala is from the masons' court. I'd wager you could make those mason clans whose lads are giving you trouble a bargain. Let the girl go back home, and they'll rope in those stone throwers. Keep things quiet there.'
The sergeant scratched the stubble on his head. Like most of the army, he kept his hair trimmed short against lice. 'I'll think on it, but there's been some complaints at the barracks for want of recreation, so I need to shift new hierodules in there.'
For all that Nekkar bound his tongue every gods-rotted day, that he paced out the pattern of his days with deliberate speed so as not to attract unwanted attention, this was too cursed much. 'Hierodules! Hierodules serve the Merciless One of their own will! They are not forced onto men's pallets!'
Anger creased the sergeant's mouth, and he drew the whip he carried from the belt and smacked it so hard against the nearest
pillar that Nekkar flinched. Then the man laughed, and he whistled three short notes, and the girl Fala came hurrying out like a dog called to heel. She crouched, head lowered, shoulders trembling.
'Yes, Master,' she said, the words so soft Nekkar barely heard them. That the sergeant made her address him as slave to master only made it worse.
'You've a hankering to be a hierodule, don't you, lass?' said the sergeant with a grin, gaze flashing to Nekkar.
Hers flashed to the ostiary as well, her eyes black with desperation.
'Look at me!' He pressed the whip against her cheek.
She raised her chin, tears winding down her dark cheeks. 'Yes, ver. I apprenticed to the Witherer, but I always wanted to be a hierodule.'
'Well, then, take your things and get over there, report to the barracks.'
She tried to rise, but her legs would not lift her.
Nekkar rose, cup clenched in his right hand. 'Truly, Sergeant, let the girl go home. She's done enough, surely, served you for three months by my reckoning.'
The sergeant drew his whip along Fala's neck. She was a pretty girl, alas for her in these times; her clan always made the proper offerings; she'd been betrothed to a young man from Flag Quarter, but Nekkar did not know if he still lived.
'Surely I can do that,' said the sergeant with a smile lingering on his arrogant face, 'but I need another girl in the barracks lest my soldiers grow restless. So if you'll send along one of those young novices you keep gated up in the temple, that lass — or lad — can take the place of this one. As soon as you send her, Fala can go home.'
For the space of a breath, for the space of a bell, a day, a year, Nekkar lost sight and hearing, every sensation except the stink of failure and the rotting sweetness of a pain he could not describe or touch but could only taste like vomit on his tongue.
The sergeant laughed heartily, and Nekkar had to squeeze his walking staff with both hands to stop himself from slamming its haft into the man's face. His weak ankle shifted, and he tottered sideways. The poor girl had to steady him.
'Forgive me, Holy One,' she whispered as he swayed.
For what she thought she was apologizing he could not
fathom. As if his distress was her fault! What manner of holy one was he? She had endured for months while he had kept his novices and envoys protected behind the temple walls. And yet how could he throw any one of them to the beasts to be ripped and rended?
'The gods are cursed useless now, aren't they, Holy One?' sneered the sergeant.
Was it true? Had the gods abandoned them? Was this a test?
Neh. It was not true. The people of Toskala were not trapped by the gods' indifference but by human action.
'You speak lightly, Sergeant, because it is not a woman of your clan who will be abused every night by multiple men, none of whom will come to her with the respect and awe due to an acolyte of the Devourer. When Ushara's temples closed their gates to your soldiers, you knew then that the gods did not approve of what you did.'
'And what happened to Ushara's temples, eh? We broke down the gates and took what we wanted. They should not have refused us.'
'What you do is wrong. You know it, and I know it. You present me now with a terrible choice not because you want me to make a choice but because you want me to suffer for having to make the choice. Therefore, it is no choice you offer me. It is not my responsibility, but yours.'
The sergeant's expression had grown tight in a way Nekkar knew presaged danger, but he could not stop speaking. 'Please allow Fala to return to her clan. If the provision wagons have come in, let rations chits be distributed. I ask you, by the agreement made when the army first occupied the city, to remember that the people of Toskala must eat in order to work. Please allow me to take chits representing a fair portion of rice and nai, and I will distribute them to the clans and compounds in Stone Quarter as I've been doing for almost six months now.'