Into the West, page 37
I’m going to wake up at any moment and find myself back on the freezing river, while Kordas and his Council argue about whether we should push on or stay where we are. But while I’m dreaming—I’m going to enjoy this.
Never in a hundred thousand years would I have thought that I would be best friends with a lizard, Delia thought with bemusement, as she looked down at the top of Jelavan’s head. It was amazing and kind of funny how they had fallen into friendship, as if they had known each other all their lives. She’d never had a friend like this; Sai was a surrogate father, Briada was a mentor, Jonaton was an eccentric big brother, but none of them were just friends. Her sister? Well, Isla was old enough they hadn’t really had anything in common before she married Kordas, and afterward, that just put more distance between them. Jelavan was a friend who always seemed to know what was going on, and how to explain it to her. She’d been accustomed to servants of all sorts back in the Duchy, but Jelavan was too fun to think of as a servant; he didn’t come across as a dreary, duty-first type, he was a cheery, everything-gets-done type. Like her scouting team, come to think of it.
It was only two days until the Midwinter Festival. The Valdemarans had been overjoyed to discover the Hawkbrothers of k’Vesla celebrated Midwinter too, and both peoples were determined to celebrate it together. Kordas was in complete agreement. After all they had been through, they needed a celebration!
Delia and Jelavan had been assigned to work on decorations. So now they were busy putting up strings of inedible red berries, pine cones that had been bleached and somehow gilded, and beautiful stars, tervardi (beautiful creatures that were humanoid birds) and dyheli woven out of gilded grass. As mages moved along the paths and the tunnels underground, they left tiny mage-lights no bigger than a fireflies behind them. All of this was in their spare time, of course, but now that they were no longer on the move, there was more of that than there had been before.
Nearly every day, Delia saw or learned of something new, wonderful, or just odd. The first had been the dyheli, graceful creatures that looked like a more refined and much larger version of goats, with a pair of branchless, twisting horns. They had taken over the management of the equine, cow, and sheep herds, without even being asked. Somehow they managed to get all of these creatures to drop their dung in corner “latrine” areas so it was easier to collect and drop into compost pits. To Delia’s wonderment, some of the dyheli could speak mind to mind with people who didn’t even have the power of Mindspeech. She was particularly enamored of the King Stag, Akayla. He was endlessly patient and never seemed to lose his temper. When she’d asked him why the dyheli had taken on the management of everything but the pigs, he had snorted. :No one sane wants someone’s dung on their dinner, no?: he’d replied. Which, of course, made perfect sense. As for the herds of swine, for the most part they were all living in spacious sties, which was where they liked to be. At least, according to the swineherds she’d talked to. The dyheli had simply “told” them that from now on, they were to relieve themselves only in special “latrine trenches” along the wall at the lowest part of the sty. They were, evidently, perfectly happy to comply. The trenches led to more compost pits. In all cases, a touch of magic sped up the usual process of decay, turning the dung into usable compost over the course of a single day, and keeping the smell to a minimum.
Kordas had been over the moon about this. I suppose, she thought, as she hung up a lovely straw star, that this is not only part of his responsibility to his people, to keep them healthy, it’s also in his own self-interest, because he is Landwise, and anything that hurts the land hurts him.
Meanwhile, the thing that had her excited was taking place uphill, at the northern end of the Tayledras compound, near the Heartstone.
They were growing a manor house.
At least, that was what Delia was calling it in her mind, because a manor house was, more or less, what it was going to be in function. Kordas wanted to be able to crowd all fifteen thousand people into it if they were attacked by something they couldn’t immediately drive off, and he’d sketched out his basic idea to the Hawkbrothers, who had nodded and said it could be done. “They won’t be comfortable,” Kordas had said. “But they’ll be alive.”
She’d assumed it would be “built,” because obviously—but no. The Hawkbrothers had some sort of thing already in the ground, a thing that grew buildings, and right now, the roof and most of the top floor were sticking up out of the dirt. She still could not wrap her mind around that concept. A “thing” that grew buildings! If the evidence hadn’t been up there right in front of her, she never would have believed it. That was why it was near the Heartstone, so the “thing” could take energy from the Heartstone to help it build.
Still . . . as they got to the vicinity of where this building was growing, she paused in her decorating to admire it. It was enchanting. It looked for all the world as if it was a normal building, but one somehow being built upward, rather than from the skeleton of the framework outward and inward. It was going to be quite impressive, with granite walls and a slate roof. Then she frowned as the true size of this building became apparent to her.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jelavan.
“This would have to be twenty stories tall to fit fifteen thousand people in it,” she pointed out. “Kordas is going to be upset.” Huh. Either I am getting very good at estimating how many people you can pack inside a building, or—maybe I overheard someone saying the same thing and don’t remember it?
“Oh, that’s not a problem.” Jelavan waved away her concerns with a claw that still held a straw tervardi. “All your people don’t have to fit in the building.”
She sighed. Jelavan had a habit of wanting to tease things out into conversations that could have taken place in a third of the time. Still . . . it amused the little hertasi, and he deserved some amusement for all his hard work. She had thought the Dolls worked hard, but the hertasi worked harder.
“And why is that, exactly?” she asked patiently.
“Oh, you would learn eventually, so I might as well show you now. It’s not as if we’ve kept it a secret from under you.”
Evidently she was getting better at taking hints, because the answer practically leapt out of her mind. “The tunnels! You’re going to show me the hertasi tunnels!”
“I am, in fact.” Now Jelavan’s mouth was halfway open and he was making the little panting sounds that meant laughter. “You are more clever than you look!”
“You’re lucky there’s no snow here,” she retorted. “I’d put a snowball down your back!” And that was when she had an idea.
She pictured a big snowdrift that she knew was just outside the Veil, firmed that picture in her mind, and “reached” for a handful—and stuffed it down the back of Jelavan’s tunic.
The sight of Jelavan trying to get the cold stuff out of his back, yipping and dancing, completely made up for the way he “innocently” jostled her so that a leaf full of water spilled over her head.
Kordas examined his growing “manor.” The building itself was unexpectedly handsome. But—
“This building is only supposed to have four stories and a basement,” he pointed out, beginning to feel anxious. “There—”
“Is no way that fifteen thousand people will fit in it, even if we stacked them like cordwood,” Silvermoon said, smoothly interrupting him. “Our tools and magic are good, but they are not going to grow you a building that large. Leaving aside the fact that even if we could, the people on the uppermost floors would curse you every day they had to go up and down all those stairs. As we have learned with our ekele, four stories are quite tall enough unless you have safe platforms to haul things up by, pulleys, and counterweights as they do in mines, and as we do in other Vales.”
That would mostly be the servants going up and down all those stairs, poor things. No, he’s right—
“So what’s the solution?” he asked bluntly. “Because I know you are hiding a solution up one of your sleeves.”
“Ah, you have come to know me so well.” Silvermoon smirked. “The hertasi tunnels, of course. This entire area is riddled with them. We decided that instead of collapsing them as we usually do when we leave a place, we’ll leave them open for your use. The tunnels are a lot easier to defend than a building.”
Kordas looked at him with alarm. “Isn’t that—the foundations would be undermined—sinkholes—”
“Please, give us more credit than that. Never mind, I’ll show you. Come along.” He beckoned, and Kordas followed him into what he had thought was an ornamental planting, but in the center of the planting was a round door in the ground. Lifting the doorhandles revealed a set of well-lit circular stairs. He couldn’t identify what they were made of. Too warm to the touch for metal, but the color of wrought iron, and apparently just as tough and quite thoroughly anchored to the wall, because they didn’t even tremble as the two of them made their way down. Kordas marveled as they wound their way to the bottom. This descent into the underground could have been alarming, but there was nothing that was in the least disturbing about this staircase. There was plenty of light on the stairs, thanks to mage-lights, and plenty of light at the bottom. It was only about one story down, and they found themselves at a crossroads of four tunnels.
The lighting was considerably dimmer down here than the sunlight of the surface, but that was probably because the eyes of the hertasi were more sensitive than those of humans. It was definitely humid, though not uncomfortably so. Much like a wine cellar, actually.
And now Kordas saw why Silvermoon had assured him that these tunnels weren’t undermining the surface above. The walls of the tunnel looked like glazed brick, and they were properly reinforced at intervals by heavy arches of more glazed brick.
“You see?” said Silvermoon. “Nothing is going to collapse. Not even if there was a fire down here. It would only make the tunnels stronger. The only thing that can collapse them is explosive magic, and you’d have to know exactly what to do and where the tunnels were to make that collapse happen. At any rate, come along, I’ll show you a little. The hertasi have already prepared the area next to where the basement to your building will be, and once the basement is completed, they will be putting in concealed entrances to these tunnels.”
“Because we might need to escape fast, and we don’t want whoever or whatever has invaded our building—”
“Palace,” interrupted Silvermoon. “You’re going to be a King, you should have a palace.”
Kordas felt himself blushing. “Oh, it’s very high class to be a king,” he replied, with mockery in his voice, though he was mocking only himself. “But it’s very crass to call yourself a ‘king’ and even crasser when you are ‘king’ of a place no bigger than a small duchy.”
Silvermoon snorted. “Just wait,” was all he said. “But yes. We’ll be completing the building with hidden entrances to these tunnels where you can hide, or escape, as you choose. And if you are attacked in force, you can put every single person you brought down here, as well as some of your animal stock. They won’t be comfortable, but they won’t be miserable either, and they will be safe.”
Silvermoon stopped talking and held up a hand. Kordas listened, and heard a voice he recognized, echoing from the tunnel to their left. Delia!
“. . . and it’s no fair that you haven’t offered Sai some of those mushrooms yet,” she was saying. “Oh, what he can do with mushrooms is—”
Delia and a hertasi stepped through the doorway and stopped. Kordas recognized the little lizard as Jelavan by his blue tunic with bronze feathers picked out along one shoulder.
They both stopped stock still. Jelavan recovered first, and nodded his head respectfully. “Oh! Welcome, Baron! I take it that Silvermoon is showing you our own little kingdom.”
“I hope we’re not trespassing,” Kordas replied.
“No, no, nothing of the sort! Most people just don’t like coming down here because it’s very disorienting until you learn the code!” He pointed to the keystones in each arch. “Blue is east, green is west, red is south and yellow is north. Then you pay attention to the patterns in the brickwork—” He began rattling off a long series of things Kordas was supposed to be looking for, then stopped, probably because Kordas couldn’t keep the dismay off his face. “Or, of course, you can just keep going in one direction until you come to a staircase or sky-blue ramp. They will always bring you to the surface.”
“That’s probably my best plan, should I have to come down here,” Kordas agreed.
“We have everything a creature could need here,” Jelavan said proudly. “We have storehouses, we grow mushrooms, there are workshops of all sorts, we make pottery and metalwork and cook and weave and sew and make jewelry and embroider, and work leather. We always make more room than we will actually need, just in case we have to take in another clan. We have a system for disposing of waste, as I believe you had in your manor back in the Duchy. We have lots of private quarters—oh! You need to avoid anything with a door with a hertasi sigil carved into it. That’s someone’s home. Or at least, you need to avoid those places until we’re all gone.”
“I’m not looking forward to that day,” Kordas told him candidly. “I find I am really enjoying the company of your people. And the Hawkbrothers too, of course!”
Silvermoon struck a subtle pose. “How could you not? We are vastly good company at even the worst of times, and at the best of times, we are a delight. But let’s continue our tours. Delia, Jelavan, would you like to join us?”
Kordas refrained from objecting. It wouldn’t do to hurt Delia’s feelings, though being down here in very close proximity to her was not something he was particularly comfortable with.
But to his surprise, after a moment of thought, Delia shook her head. “Silvermoon is going to show you boring, important things. I want to see the fun things.” And she giggled.
He smiled at that. Now that’s what I want to hear. He still felt a lot of guilt for dragging her out into the wilderness, when at her age, instead of being one of the linchpins of a scouting expedition into dangerous lands, learning how to fight, learning survival techniques, she should have been teaching her foal, being courted, maybe. Certainly she would be introduced to suitable potential partners at parties and celebrations. And of course, at this time of year, there would have been a fortnight of celebration and feasting, she might have been making herself a new gown—or sitting beside the fire and reading, maybe with Sydney-You-Asshole purring at her feet—
No, not that last. Unlikely to say the least. Another cat, or a dog, but never Sydney.
Still, this mad plan of his had stolen experiences from her that she would never have. Were the ones she’d had instead worth it?
Well, it looks like this one is.
“Come see the workshops, then!” Jelavan scampered off down the west tunnel, with Delia at his heels.
Delia is—running. To keep up with the hertasi, not telling them to slow down for her. Would you look at that.
“And what would you like to see?” Silvermoon asked.
Kordas sighed. “What I want to see is those workshops. What I need to see is the forge and anything else connected with tools, defensive weapons, and their making; I assume there is one down here?”
“More than one,” Silvermoon assured him, and led him eastward. “And we will be able to speak freely. The route I have in mind is proofed against spying, and will remain so for many years to come. Not forever, though. Sometimes it is wiser for us to leave a spell or enchantment going, to fade on its own. If no known magic-eater is in the territory, we might even attract some if we leave it loud.” He shrugged. “It’s a kind of dance, and we are obliged to negotiate with the land as well as cleanse it.”
Kordas understood about half of the terms Silvermoon used when speaking about magic. Kordas was not bad, not bad at all, when it came to his magic, and had very good control atop that. The concepts that Silvermoon spoke casually of—the ones in practice! and not theoretical—would have changed the Empire forever, if they were known. “Like the wyrsa? Why would anyone want to attract them?”
“A few good reasons. They may not have been nature-born, but they are a fact of the ecology now, and if they go, so does something else. Additionally, our task is to put order to magic in the Pelagirs, wherever we find what we can call by that term. Not all forest in this region is considered Pelagirs. “Clean” forest appears here and there and isn’t encroached upon, for reasons we don’t even know yet. Like little islands of cleanliness in a sea of corruption. Ideally, that is what we’ll turn this region into, and what it becomes then, well, my new friend, only fortune-tellers and story-tellers know. But until then, magic-eaters like the wyrsa are like mowers to grass, for us. They home in on aberrant magical creatures and effects, and trim them down. They maintain a level of stability that makes our work last, and prevents the Pelagirs from encroaching right on back.”
It was an intentionally convoluted answer, but Kordas understood why. When one makes the story convoluted, it portrays that the speaker thinks in a convoluted way. It expresses that they think everything mentioned is connected. Silvermoon explains like that to also give me an empathic personal expression of the subject, and its meaning to him. It creates sympathy for the strangeness. He’s masterful.
“It makes sense that out here, you would want to use every resource you could for your holy cause—whether you control them or not. But isn’t just leaving them alone a way of controlling their future, too?” Kordas was taking a risk in being so direct in what had the appearance, so far, of just pleasant conversation, but had been diplomatic dueling since “We are obliged to negotiate” was said.
