David Farland - Brotherhood of the Wolf

Borenson had been cold and distant to her and Gaborn since that night. He did not handle the guilt well.

And as Iome walked through the bailey that served as the courtyard to the Dedicate’s Keep, she did not handle her own memories of this place well, either. The high narrow walls around the keep made it feel suffocating. The Dedicate’s Keep carried too many dark memories.

Only a couple of small trees, stunted by lack of light, grew within the bailey. A week past, Iome’s mother had lain here, her body hidden from sight after Raj Ahten murdered her. And after her father had given his endowment of wit to the Wolf Lord, Iome had stayed here a day serving him, though he did not know his own daughter to look at her. For not only was he witless, but she had given her own endowment of glamour to Raj Ahten’s vector, and so had become ugly.

Iome crossed the bailey but dared not enter the keep itself, for fear that it would arouse too many memories of lost friends, for fear that she would find herself looking for bloodstains on the mats and on the floors. Although the steward assured her the beds had all been burned and the floors, walls, and—by the Powers—ceilings had been scrubbed spotless, she could not willfully try to imagine what it had looked like.

At last she sent Sir Donnor into the keep proper to find Myrrima, while she waited in the courtyard with her Days.

Several wains were parked in the courtyard and Iome watched a few guards leading the blind to one wain, carrying those who had given grace or brawn to another. They were a sad-looking lot, these people who had offered to become cripples in service to their king.

A moment later Sir Donnor exited the keep and assured Iome that Myrrima had attended to her mother and sisters, and even now was packing in her own room.

Iome bade Sir Donnor go to the stables and prepare their mounts, then went to inform Myrrima that they would leave together, heading south with her husband. Iome wasn’t surprised to find Myrrima with her pups yapping at her feet, and a longbow with a quiver full of deadly looking arrows and a wrist guard on her bed. But she was surprised to find Myrrima trying on a rather shabby, heavily quilted old vest that looked fit to be worn only while scrubbing floors.

“Do you think it smashes my breasts down enough” Myrrima asked.

Iome stared at Myrrima in frank surprise and said, “If you want smashed breasts, rocks might work better.”

Myrrima made a sour face. “I’m serious.”

“All right, smashed enough for what?”

“So that they don’t get in the way when I shoot!”

Iome had never fired a bow, though she knew ladies who had, and she recognized Myrrima’s predicament.

“I’ve got a leather riding vest in my wardrobe that might work better. I’ll get it for you,” Iome offered.

Then she told Myrrima that they would both be riding south. Myrrima seemed both astonished and genuinely gladdened by the prospect of following the men to war.

An hour later, Myrrima and Iome had a good breakfast with Iome’s Days and Sir. Donnor, but by ten in the morning Binnesman had still not come back to his room, So they sent to the stables for their horses and prepared to ride out, leaving little undone. Iome’s puppies were left in the King’s kitchen, until she felt sure that she would depart.

In all the confusion, Iome still had not talked to Jureem. When she reached the city gate, she found him shouting at people who loafed outside the castle.

Iome had imagined that by now everyone would have fled the grounds outside Castle Sylvarresta, but it was not so. As she looked through the city gates, she realized that the roads to the south and to the west, the roads heading into the Dunnwood, were jammed with carts and oxen and peasants, many of whom had given up on the notion of travel and were just milling about. Of the pavilions near the castle, a full quarter of them still stood, and many of their occupants seemed not to be interested in going anywhere at all.

Jureem had his hands full. Though he was a fine servant—perhaps the most capable servant she’d ever met, he could not do the impossible.

And the situation before him was clearly impossible. A full five thousand petty lords and knights and even some peasants with nothing more than longbows to use as weapons had besieged the gates of the castle and demanded entrance. The city guard—about forty men—barred their way.

“What’s going on?” Iome demanded.

“Your Highness,” Jureem explained, “these men have decided that they want to guard the castle walls.”

“But...” Iome could think of nothing to say for a moment. “But Gaborn told everyone to flee.”

“I know!” Jureem said. “But they choose not to listen.”

It astonished her that a vassal would disobey the command of his king. She looked to Sir Donnor, as if for an answer. But the blond lad merely glared at the troublemakers. She gazed out over the throng. “Is this true?” she asked. “Are none of you Chosen? Did you not hear the commands?”

At that, hundreds of men looked away in shame. Though they might stand up to Jureem, a mere servant, they would not do so to Iome.

Baffled, she said. “Do you even know what a Darkling Glory is? Can, you guess its powers?”

One man, a petty lord she recognized as Sir Barrows, stepped up. “We’ve heard of Glories and Bright Ones—we all have,” he said. “And if the old tales be true, they can die in battle, same as a man. So we was thinking we could stand fast on the battlements with the siege engines—the ballistas and catapults and steel bows, and kill it before it even lands.”

“Are you daft?” Iome shouted, astonished by the man. “I know you are all courageous, but are you also daft? Did you not hear your lord’s command? He told you to flee!”

“Of course we heard, Your Highness,” Sir Barrows replied, “but surely that command was meant mainly for women and the little ones. We’re all strong men here!”

At that, the men all shook their spears and axes and raised their shields and shouted in a great cry that echoed from the hills.

Iome stared in utter amazement. They had heard the word of the Earth King and had decided to keep their own counsel. She turned to the captain of the King’s Guard and commanded, “Place two hundred archers on the wall. Shoot any of these men who comes within bow range.”

“Milady!” Sir Barrows said in a hurt tone.

“I’m not your lady,” Iome turned on him and shouted viciously. “If you will not follow my lord’s word, then you are not his servant, and you are doomed to die, all of you! I may applaud your valor, but I will curse your foolishness; and I will punish it, if I must!”

“Your Highness!” Sir Barrows said, dropping to his knees, as if awaiting her order. After a moment, the others fell in line and followed his example, though some were slower to bend the knee than others.

She turned on Jureem. “Why are people milling about on the roads” she asked. “Can’t they get away from the city?”

“The slower travelers get in their way,” Jureem said “Many of the carts are heavily laden, and some have broken axles or lost wheels, so everyone must move around them.”

Iome turned to the troops that knelt before the castle gate. “Sir Barrows, send a thousand men up each road and have them clear the carts of those who are stranded. Put them to work fixing wheels and axles. As for those folk who have chosen to remain afield, go find out why they are here. If they have valid reasons to stay, I want to know. If they don’t have good reasons to stay, tell them that you have orders to kill anyone found within five miles of the castle within the hour.”

“Your Highness,” Sir Barrows cried in astonishment. “Do you really want us to kill them?”