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The dog ran off ahead for a dozen or so paces. Grizzin sighed. ‘I can make an enemy of mice, it seems. To speak is to wield a weapon, with which I bludgeon friend and foe, friend unto foe, I mean, and lacking victim, why, I but wave it fiercely in the air, bold enough to shy a god. Tell me dog, have you any wine?’

It seemed the beast would trot in advance of him down this road, in the manner of an animal that well knew a master. The smell of smoke was in the evening air, and Grizzin had seen the grey pillars above the forest for much of this day’s travel. He disliked the meaning of such details, since they reminded him of all the places he had protected in the past. Strangers stepped carelessly in every garden he had ever tended, and that was a sad admission on all sides. ‘For they value only what is theirs, and covet all that is mine, and should we meet we might invent economy, or theft, or both. Dog!’Advertisement

The beast paused and looked back at him, ears cocked, eyes askew.

‘By the confusion of your vision, friend, I name you Providence. Is that too long a name for a scrawny thing like you? No matter. Perversity pleases me, unless it is too perverse, upon which I am known to bark a laugh. You can join me in this, if you care to. But I call you not to call you names, friend, but to tell you that I am tired and hungry and in my sack is a fish, or two, and I see certain herbs that entice my eyes. In short, since I see you fret impatient, we shall make camp in some suitable glade or clearing in the forest upon the left. Thus: keep an eye out for a likely roost.’

When the animal resumed its trot, Grizzin smiled and continued walking.

A short time later the dog loped into the line of trees and vanished from sight.

The Azathanai shrugged, not expecting to see its return. He was thankful for the brief companionship, however, and thought the animal well named for that brevity.

The creature suddenly reappeared, tail wagging. It halted just outside the forest’s ragged edge.

Grizzin stood on the road and squinted at the dog. ‘Can it be you gleaned my desire? Your stance is most expectant, yet you draw no nearer. Very well, show me a place to sleep and show me, indeed, that Providence can do no less.’

He moved down from the road and approached. The animal spun round and bounded back into the forest.

A short distance in waited a glade, the grasses thick and soft, barring in the centre where the blackened stones encircled an old campfire.

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Grizzin ventured into the clearing, up to the old hearth, where he set down his sack. ‘You alter the course of this night’s conversation, friend,’ he said to the dog, now lying near the stones. ‘I did anticipate the pleasure of not being understood, thus freeing me to heights of appalling honesty and blue confession. Instead, I now fear fleas will carry the tale, and so must be circumspect. And I fear more the matching of wits with you, and losing the game, O Providence. Now, rest here while I collect wood, herbs and the like. We shall feast tonight, and then pick clean our teeth with fish spines, and make fresh our breaths with the twigs of bitter juniper. What say you?’

But the dog was already asleep, legs twitching as it swam through dreams.

Hish Tulla watched Gripp Galas gingerly lift himself on to the saddle of his horse. She met his eyes and he nodded. They rode out from the small courtyard, ducking as, Hish in the lead, they passed beneath the gate’s heavy lintel stone. The street they trotted onto revealed similar gates lining its winding length, and stationed before a number of them were guards, their eyes shadowed by the visors of their helms.

The river might have receded, but currents of fear lingered. She wondered how many of these guards they rode past had once been soldiers in Urusander’s Legion. Questions of loyalty haunted every street, even here where dwelt the highborn behind high walls. This matter of grievances irritated Hish, since they seemed so ephemeral. If by way of recognition of their service to the realm, these soldiers would now demand coin and land, then the matter of compensation could readily be addressed. Negotiations and honourable brokering could take the place of belligerence. But it was not that simple. From what she could determine, the soldiers yearned for something more, of which coin and land were but material manifestations.

Perhaps it was no more than a meeting of the eye, every station made level, as if birthright were irrelevant. A laudable notion, but one she knew to be unworkable. A realm of nothing but highborn would quickly crumble. Without servants, without workers of crafts — potters and weavers and carpenters and cooks — civilization could not function. But even here, this was not part of the new world as envisioned by the decommissioned soldiers. What they sought was only for them and what they sought was an elevation of their profession, to a level of social importance matching that of the highborn. pqdm.com