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fallen, and that it continued to fall. The front gate now lay flat on its
face.
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Watfielders were walking across it to deliver basket after basket of hot
bread,
fresh butter, and sweet jam.
Unable to bring herself to be concerned about the wall or the gate, Clement
said
weakly, ôHot bread?ö
Ellid grabbed a soldier. ôGet some of that bread in here for the general.ö
ôWhatÆs delaying our guests?ö Clement asked.
Ellid gave a wry grin. ôBetter guests than conquerors, eh? The GÆdeonÆs
people
wanted her to show herself to the Watfielders. You can hear them cheering out
there. The local Paladin commander just strolled brazenly in, and the two
Paladin generals are briefing him before he goes off with my people to
discuss
details of the truce here. IÆve told them to produce a proposal by noon and
itÆs
coming direct to me and you. I assume youÆll want to use it as a model for
the
other garrisons. Do you want me in here, General, or out there?ö
ôOut there. Visible. Very visible.ö
ôYes, General. What else?ö
ôHas someone gone to fetch Gilly?ö
ôYes, but you know it takes time to get that man out of bed. And IÆve told
the
company clerk to get some sleep because heÆll be up writing orders all night.
And you had better talk to the Paladin generals about security for our
messengers to the other garrisons.ö
ôRight,ö Clement said, in a daze of exhaustion.
Ellid looked gravely down at her. ôYou sure managed to look like you knew
what
you were doing out there.ö
ôYou know bloody well it was a blind charge.ö
ôThatÆs a secret between you and me, General. The soldiers think youÆre some
kind of magician who pulled a truce out of the teeth of disaster. And thatÆs
exactly what they need to be thinking.ö
ôOh, hell,ö Clement said. ôYou mean I have to continue this pretense?ö
EllidÆs grin was more than half a grimace. The door opened, and this time the
cold air smelled like a bakery. A crowd of people, some soldiers and some
not,
carried in the storyteller, with the little girl riding behind on her
fatherÆs
shoulders, crying imperiously at them to be careful and vehemently waving a
painted lizard in the air.
A soldier deposited a glorious basket of marvelous bread in ClementÆs lap.
Ellid
said, ôMy lost cook gave me a distracted greeting, and promises that soup,
meat,
pies, and other fine foods are soon to follow the bread. If you want to make
an
old woman happy, youÆll think of a way to make him a soldier again!ö
She left to look after the garrison.
Clement breathed in the scent of the bread. She picked up a round loaf and
the
warmth was almost painful on her numbed fingers. She tore off a piece, and
the
crust shattered, and the interior let out a cloud of exquisite steam. At
last,
she took a bite and let out a small moan. The cold fled from her flesh, but
the
pain revived: face, shoulder, hip, muscle. She had been smashed, bruised,
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broken, depleted, and worn out by these momentous days and nights, and it
seemed
only right that this should be the case.
She forced herself to stand up and walk over to the one person in the room
whose
condition was worse than hers. The storyteller had been deposited on the
hearth
with a much-worn coat over her shoulders and the red-cheeked little girl
tucked
under her arm. The child noticed ClementÆs approach and said with hostility,
ôItÆs another one of those soldiers.ö
The storyteller slowly looked up at Clement. Her dark skin had turned gray
with
cold, her lips blue. Her muscles were still spasming with shivers.
Apparently,
the cold of the unheated gaol had nearly killed her before the execution
squad
even arrived. Clement squatted down beside her, knees cracking, muscles
quivering. She proffered the basket. ôWarm bread?ö
The storyteller said, ôDo you truly think I will break bread with you?ö
Clement instinctively jerked back, lost her tenuous balance, and nearly
dropped
the basket in the effort to catch herself. Even the man who was unstrapping
the
womanÆs boots looked shocked. ôZanjaù!ö
ôWhy are you so mad?ö the little girl asked nervously.
Clement set the bread basket securely on the floor. ôZanja naÆTarwein?ö
As the woman glared, the man said politely, ôYes, General, she has been
restored.ö
So this was the one Clement had feared: who had survived a skull fracture, a
broken back, torture, and imprisonment; who had emerged from a valley
populated
by corpses determined to exterminate the killers of her people; who had
suborned
both the Sainnite Medric and the Paladin Emil; who had not merely found the
Lost
GÆdeon but had won her love; and who had finally sundered her very soul...
all
for the sake ofùrevenge?
ôIÆll just leave the basket here,ö Clement said. Feeling truly battered, she
gathered herself to rise, but simply could not do it.
ôGeneral, youÆre hurt! Let me help you,ö said the man.
Zanja said, ôNo, JÆhan.ö
ôIt is not rightùö
ôBrother healer, heed me!ö
Apparently perceiving something that Clement could not, the man sat back on
his
heels, restraining his reflexive kindness with an obvious effort. Less than a
year ago, a person of his generosity and knowledge had taught the Sainnites
how
to save themselves from the plague. Perhaps it had in fact been this very
man.
Unfortunately, not all Shaftali were like him.
When Clement looked at the silent warrior, she looked into the other face of
Shaftal: unbowed, unforgiving. Every attempt to overcome the people had not
merely increased their resentment, but also their ability to resist.
ClementÆs
acts, and the actions of all the soldiers like her, had created this
unrelenting
enemy and all the enemies like her. With a great deal of effort they could be
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killed, but they could not be eliminated.
ôWhat do you want from me?ö Clement asked in Sainnese.
The warrior replied in the same language. ôYou took no risk when you put
yourself at the GÆdeonÆs mercy. Karis is so fearful of doing harm that she
has
repeatedly refused to act at all. You had good reason to expect only
generosity.ö
Clement protested, ôMy desire for peace is sincere! Ask that Truthkenùö
ôIf you misrepresented your intentions in her presence you would not be alive
now. But sincerity is not enough.ö Zanja naÆTarwein was speaking with an
effort,
yet her words were like the storytellerÆs: precise and devastating.
Clement urgently wished that she could get away from her. But she could not.
ôWhat would be enough?ö she asked. ôIf I offered you as many soldiers to kill
as
we killed in your villageùö
ôIt would not be enough.ö
ôIf I had the power to undo the pastùö
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