the Mancorvan plains.
“Indeed. And so I learned that the enemies of Lamberto must indeed be incompetent fools if they could not unseat my father.”
Marakas was surprised into laughter.
Fredero smiled.
“Of the many things I have heard said of the kai Lamberto, that is not one. He has never been called a fool.”
“Not never,” Fredero replied serenely. “But infrequently. He does not take well to personal insult.”
“And what kai does?”
“As you say.” The smile left his face. “Come. There is a small stone garden in the west courtyard; the shadows cast by sunlight at this time of day are most pleasant there.”
23rd of Misteral 427 AA
Sea of Sorrows
The shadows cast by sunlight in the flatlands of Raverra were not so pleasant. Only those plants that could exist without the easy grace of the Lady’s bounty grew upon the plains, and the ground was often harsh and dry beneath them. But it was not broken yet; it was not sand. Look carefully, and one could see where wagons had cracked the surface of the dry earth, and in numbers.
He built his shelter here, thinking about the past.
Three days passed.
When Jevri el’Sol came to his rooms, Marakas had been surprised to see him. “Your ma—the kai el’Sol has a message for me?”
The mistake, were Jevri of rank within the Radann, would have been fatal; Jevri was not. Born into slavery and released from it solely to follow the kai el’Sol into the ranks of the Radann, he was the consummate servant. He was also proof that Lambertan dignity extended from the highest to the lowest of its subjects, for once freed, Jevri was not compelled, and could not be forced, to such service. To others, perhaps, but that was not the point. He served.
“He wishes your presence,” Jevri said gravely.
“Where?”
“I will lead you.”
Marakas bowed. Among the Radann, weapons were not forbidden. The Lord did not expect his servants to strip themselves of the proof of their prowess. But Marakas carried a poor man’s sword, and knew it; he therefore often left it behind. It was unarmed that he walked behind the armed Jevri el’Sol.
Jevri’s backward glance said much. But so, too, did his frown. He was not, Marakas thought, seraf any longer. He had mistaken the older man. No seraf of worth would have said so much by glance alone. And certainly no seraf, worthy or no, would have then paused when he felt glance alone did not convey what was necessary to find words in its place.
“Marakas el’Sol,” he said evenly, “I wish you to understand what the kai el’Sol would never insult you by putting into words. The Lord’s men,” he added, “often forbear to speak where speaking would solve much.
“I have served Fredero for many years, and before him, I served his family. You were never born seraf; you will never be seraf. Were I given my freedom, I would have served willingly in the same capacity, and subject to the same laws, as I have lived.”
“You are free.”
Jevri shrugged. “In slavery, I have known freedom that men who are free have never known. Fredero is, as his father, a man who understands the value of honor, of duty, of loyalty. But that can be said of many.
“He understands more. Why do you think the Lambertans are honored?”
“For precisely those reasons.”
“No. They are honored because they hold power.”
“But—”
“And they consider that power a duty. For if they can cleave to those things they hold as
truth,
and still be honored, honorable men, they serve as an example that it is
possible
to do so. Fredero chose the Radann because he admires the Lord and he despairs at what is done in the Lord’s name. He became kai—at some personal expense—because he hoped to impose those beliefs upon the men who carry the Lord’s symbol and do the Lord’s work.”
“And what is the Lord’s work?” Marakas asked bitterly. “I have walked among the corpses that are left at the end of a day in service to the principles the
“Indeed. And so I learned that the enemies of Lamberto must indeed be incompetent fools if they could not unseat my father.”
Marakas was surprised into laughter.
Fredero smiled.
“Of the many things I have heard said of the kai Lamberto, that is not one. He has never been called a fool.”
“Not never,” Fredero replied serenely. “But infrequently. He does not take well to personal insult.”
“And what kai does?”
“As you say.” The smile left his face. “Come. There is a small stone garden in the west courtyard; the shadows cast by sunlight at this time of day are most pleasant there.”
23rd of Misteral 427 AA
Sea of Sorrows
The shadows cast by sunlight in the flatlands of Raverra were not so pleasant. Only those plants that could exist without the easy grace of the Lady’s bounty grew upon the plains, and the ground was often harsh and dry beneath them. But it was not broken yet; it was not sand. Look carefully, and one could see where wagons had cracked the surface of the dry earth, and in numbers.
He built his shelter here, thinking about the past.
Three days passed.
When Jevri el’Sol came to his rooms, Marakas had been surprised to see him. “Your ma—the kai el’Sol has a message for me?”
The mistake, were Jevri of rank within the Radann, would have been fatal; Jevri was not. Born into slavery and released from it solely to follow the kai el’Sol into the ranks of the Radann, he was the consummate servant. He was also proof that Lambertan dignity extended from the highest to the lowest of its subjects, for once freed, Jevri was not compelled, and could not be forced, to such service. To others, perhaps, but that was not the point. He served.
“He wishes your presence,” Jevri said gravely.
“Where?”
“I will lead you.”
Marakas bowed. Among the Radann, weapons were not forbidden. The Lord did not expect his servants to strip themselves of the proof of their prowess. But Marakas carried a poor man’s sword, and knew it; he therefore often left it behind. It was unarmed that he walked behind the armed Jevri el’Sol.
Jevri’s backward glance said much. But so, too, did his frown. He was not, Marakas thought, seraf any longer. He had mistaken the older man. No seraf of worth would have said so much by glance alone. And certainly no seraf, worthy or no, would have then paused when he felt glance alone did not convey what was necessary to find words in its place.
“Marakas el’Sol,” he said evenly, “I wish you to understand what the kai el’Sol would never insult you by putting into words. The Lord’s men,” he added, “often forbear to speak where speaking would solve much.
“I have served Fredero for many years, and before him, I served his family. You were never born seraf; you will never be seraf. Were I given my freedom, I would have served willingly in the same capacity, and subject to the same laws, as I have lived.”
“You are free.”
Jevri shrugged. “In slavery, I have known freedom that men who are free have never known. Fredero is, as his father, a man who understands the value of honor, of duty, of loyalty. But that can be said of many.
“He understands more. Why do you think the Lambertans are honored?”
“For precisely those reasons.”
“No. They are honored because they hold power.”
“But—”
“And they consider that power a duty. For if they can cleave to those things they hold as
truth,
and still be honored, honorable men, they serve as an example that it is
possible
to do so. Fredero chose the Radann because he admires the Lord and he despairs at what is done in the Lord’s name. He became kai—at some personal expense—because he hoped to impose those beliefs upon the men who carry the Lord’s symbol and do the Lord’s work.”
“And what is the Lord’s work?” Marakas asked bitterly. “I have walked among the corpses that are left at the end of a day in service to the principles the
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