Pyrebound - 14.5
Author: theredsheep

Chapter 14.5 – Pyrebound

Eight days later, Ram was headed back, flying to Dul Karagi for the third time in his life.

On his first trip, more than a month ago now, he’d just learned he was en, was coming back from Pilupura in Piridur’s custody, and was little better than terrified, however much he tried to pretend. He’d hidden it behind a pitiful veneer of brash belligerence, and done a poor job of convincing even himself. Too much had changed, too quickly, and he’d barely understood what he was.

The second trip, a bare three tetrads later, he’d just survived the treacherous attack on “Dul Shimrun,” and anger had overwhelmed sense and even fear. Again, he’d tried to hide behind pretense, that it was only good strategy to burn out his enemies like he’d always wanted to. And his spirit had assured him that all was right as he blasted down houses that had stood for a hundred blooms, and sent women and children screaming for the riverbank in the dead of night.

Now he was headed back once again. He didn’t want to live behind facades anymore, but it was a tough habit to break. And he honestly didn’t know how to feel.

He took the vellum out of his pocket yet again, carefully unfolding it to spare the increasingly strained creases. It was the same fine stuff used for every official communication from the Lugal, written in the same lovely fluid script. But the message was very simple: “Rammash. Please return to Dul Karagi as soon as possible. We will have a barque waiting for you at Jazaral, all has been arranged. Lord Etana will make any remotely reasonable assurances you need for your safety and that of your entourage. I am willing to discuss your other conditions. Piridur.”

Now Ram was on that barque. The three handmaidens who’d flown it up to Jazaral were sitting in the back, looking askance at Mana and Rinti as they sent the very valuable craft careening over the desert sands. Both of them were in explosively high spirits, overjoyed to return to the pyre. Ram knew how they felt; his own haranu was purring, deep inside his chest, to be back in its proper place. He, however, did not have the privilege of being an underage girl, who had nothing worse to look forward to than the supervision of a few disagreeable older handmaidens.

Imbri and Bal sat in the lee of the prow railing, both looking content. Imbri’s official capacity, if she had one, was as Ram’s advisor. He had promised to pay her out of Karagi’s funds, which was about as much as she ever asked from anyone. Bal, beside her, was her bodyguard, and to some extent Ram’s when Imbri and Rinti weren’t available. It wasn’t clear to Ram that Bal even cared about money; he seemed to go along with the people he knew best, and take it on faith that the means of sustenance would provide themselves. Probably he didn’t even put that much articulate thought into it. Life went on, flowing past and around him like water around an island in the Teshalun, leaving his awareness untouched.

He decided to join them. “Hey. Do you really think we can trust Etana? Or Piridur?” he asked Imbri, as soon as he was far enough forward that he didn’t think the three strange handmaidens could hear him over the wind.

“For practical purposes, it doesn’t matter,” Imbri said. “I don’t really trust you, if it comes to that. But there’s nothing you could do to make me believe in you any more than I do now. All I can do is go with you and be ready for disaster. The same situation you’re in where the Karagenes are concerned.” She smiled. “Which helps me trust you a little more.”

He sat down next to her. “I can accept that. But don’t you think they changed their minds too quickly? I wasn’t expecting them to give in after only a couple of tetrads.”

“How long were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Longer.”

“Are you sure it’s that you were expecting it to be longer? It’s not just that you wanted it to be longer?”

“Say what? Why would I want it to take longer? I want my life back.”

“It seemed to me like you were getting pretty comfortable where you were. You had your wife and your family there, and no responsibilities. There’s nothing waiting for you at the pyre but work and danger. Why would you look forward to that kind of mess?”

The wind flung his hair into his eyes; irritably, he shoved it back. “Hell. Okay, point.”

“I don’t suppose I can blame you. It has been a pretty crazy couple of months.”

“I have a hard time believing it’s only been that long.” But it had; the whole mess had started out at the bloom, the longest day of summer, and they weren’t halfway through autumn yet. They’d have long since finished up the main harvest by now—“Oh. Damn.”

“’Oh, damn’ what?”

“I think I know why they’re calling me back now. It’s about time for the campaign again, isn’t it? And they can’t risk it without me on their side.”

Imbri considered it. “Maybe. Is that so bad?”

“It is if they have no reason to keep me around once the battles are over.”

“You’re not going to be that easy to get rid of, and you know it,” she chided. “You’re just nervous. We’ve planned for this.”

“Yeah.” He stood up to look over the prow; the towering fire of Dul Karagi was a little twinkle on the horizon now, but shining brighter every second. Thousands of spirits swirled around it, bees around a hive, humming with life. He couldn’t even see the separate haranuu clearly, from this distance. Now the fire was a spike of light on the horizon, just above a patch of green. The green patch grew, and the spike rose higher, and the outer pastures rushed beneath them. This trip, at least, he was not flying in by the dead of night; he would reclaim his own at high noon, under the God’s own shining eyes. That seemed a good omen.

Fields, gardens, orchards, hundreds of acres of cultivated land, all skittered past in an instant. Then the barque rose, very slightly, to clear the great trees, and the pyre itself was spread out before them: mansions, apartments, tenements, houses and slums all together, factories and smithies, shops, shrines, inns and theaters, everything needed for uncountable thousands of men and women to live and work together, all crammed into a few square miles. He was home.

No. Not yet. Home was the Temple, but Mana put the barque into a gentle glide as they passed the forest, and they dipped down to land on the roof of the Lugal’s palace. Etana’s palace, now. There was a man waiting at the edge of the roof by the time they finally settled in for a landing—it wasn’t Etana. No matter. Ram leaped down from the deck to the roof before the craft even touched down.

By chance or design, that lone man was standing very close to the spot where Ram had knelt at the bloom. Probably chance, Ram decided. If it was a message, it was awfully subtle for the occasion. “Good to see you again, Piridur,” Ram said, and almost meant it.

Piridur nodded, his hands clasped together behind his back. He had his indwelt sword back at his hip, but was dressed down in a thigh-length red tunic, like a common rank-and-file flamekeeper. Which might well be all he was now. “Rammash. I’m glad you came.” He didn’t sound like he meant it either. “Are you still resolved not to return without a pledged successor from this pyre?”

Well, that’s abrupt. Ram had honestly forgotten he’d made that demand. “Are you offering?” he asked, to avoid answering.

“I am open to the possibility,” Piridur answered, glancing over Ram’s shoulder as the rest of the passengers disembarked. “But I can’t make any promises yet. Who all came? I need to speak with you in confidence.”

“My sister, her friend, Imbri, and Bal. That’s it. Hold on.” He turned around and held up a hand to ward them away; Bal nodded, and led Imbri towards the stairs. Mana and Rinti were already headed that way—they hadn’t seen their friends for months. “Done. So, you can’t promise yet. What are you waiting for?”

“Another chance. A fresh start.” His eyes flicked over the roof, making sure nobody was close, before he said, “We should set this straight, before discussing anything else: you have a volunteer already. He wanted to meet you here in my place, and offer himself as en as soon as you landed. I only barely found out in time to prevent him.”

Piridur’s jaw clenched, and he seemed to have some trouble getting out the words: “My father.”

“Jushur? I wouldn’t have accepted him anyway.”

Piridur only relaxed slightly. “That’s not what you said at Jazaral.”

“That was just … sarcasm. I guess. I’m sure you love him, but I don’t plan to give your father even more power than he had before.”

“I can understand that.” He didn’t smile, but his jaw unclenched just a little more. “Including the sarcasm. We’ve had plenty of sarcasm. I hope we can change that, if we’re going to work together again.”

“In any capacity. Obviously, things have not gone in the way I hoped when I first met you at Pilupura, or even when we last stood on this roof. I can see where and why they went wrong—do we need to speak about that?”

“No. We don’t.” He would die in a few blooms. An apology would only take up that many more seconds of his remaining life.

“Very well. Then you see the difficulty. I’m not used to working with my enemies, Rammash. How can we trust each other again?”

“It doesn’t seem to me like we ever trusted each other at all. Just speaking for myself, I was always out to screw you over, and assumed you meant the same to me. The idea was to get my knife in first, then get away with whatever I could grab.”

“So you say. And yet you would invest me with your pyre, with all the power you now possess, with all your memories. With power over your family’s lives, even. Your sister’s, at a minimum. Why is that?”

“Somebody has to do it, and I’m short on candidates. Your father couldn’t do it. I’m sure he’d die for you, the same as mine would die for me. But you’re only one man. That’s not enough. I need someone who’s ready to look out for … “ Lost for a figure, he swept his arm all around, taking in the whole pyre. “How many people?”

“About ninety-seven thousand at the last census, if I recall correctly. Counting only permanent residents of Dul Karagi proper.”

“Imagine that.” He took a moment to look out at it, really look. The lugal statue in the plaza had been replaced, and all the debris swept away. It was peak day, so the market was in full swing, with dozens of tables set up all to sell the latest and freshest goods off the docks. From above, Ram could scarcely see the bricks of the plaza for all the awnings—striped, spotted, swirled, checked, crosshatched—but judging by the crowds between them it was about as lively as ever. “You don’t seem to be doing too badly, considering.”

“It looks that way,” Piridur agreed. “Were you planning to walk the streets of your pyre right away?”

“I didn’t have any firm plans, honestly. I didn’t know what to expect. Is there a reason I shouldn’t take a look around?”

Piridur looked once more around the rooftop; it was empty, and the barque was lifting off again. “If we were not alone, I would have told you no, go ahead. As it is, I’d suggest you stay put.”

“Oh? Who’s planning to kill me now?”

“Nobody. At least, nobody connected to Etana’s government. We all know better than to try.”

“Blackbands, then? Has Mannagiri been hiring assassins?” The haranu was hanging about in more or less the right spot for it. A lot of trash washed up at the docks.

“He might have a hand in this, for all we know, but I don’t think they’re blackbands. We’ve hired more than a few of our own, to gather intelligence. Unless they’re all lying to us—which is very possible—none of the established groups are involved.”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew to tell you. But the simplest and least inaccurate answer I can give you is that we seem to have a common enemy. Or will, very soon. The ground is still shifting under our feet here. It’s only been a month since you destroyed the north end.”

“I assumed you would blame me for that. Ram the bazu sorcerer.”

“We did. We had very little choice, after all. And for the first few tetrads, it appeared to work. The survivors found temporary homes with their extended families around the pyre, and set to work hiring labor to clear and begin rebuilding as soon as possible. A few had to take out loans, and there was some concern about the balance at the banks, but it was settled within a few days.” He scowled at the decorative trim of the terrace. “Father was deposed within a tetrad, for letting you leave the pyre alive. It was all he could do to talk his way out of bondage, or execution.”

“I wasn’t—“ Piridur gave him a cold look, and raised one eyebrow. “Okay, I was trying for something like that, but not in so many words. Honestly, I’d just come close to being killed. I was too angry to think it over.”

“Yes, I gathered. Just so you know, I tried to get the Jatui to send a smaller body to negotiate—and to do so politely. I had a better feel for who they were dealing with than they did.”

Which is why you brought bullspikes? “It’s too late to worry about all that now. You were saying?”

“You know what happened next. Word arrived that you were agitating in the hearths. Nobody was inclined to deal leniently with you, but the assassination attempt failed, and half of Rumshiza was leveled. And that, I think, was the final blow.”

“The final blow to what?”

“Urapu was your own hearth; it fit into the story we’d been telling easily enough. The north end was frightening, but once the shock of it was over, I imagine it made things easier. Seeing us brought low only made us more human. It’s easier to be merciful to your enemy once he’s humiliated. Isn’t it, Ensi?”

“It sure doesn’t hurt. But what was so bad about Rumshiza? It wasn’t any more important than Urapu, to these people.”

“It didn’t fit the story. It came out of nowhere. It was the third disaster of the summer. And, it seems, we couldn’t hide our part in it. Too many Rumshizans survived to tell all about the men we sent to destroy you. You didn’t look so much like the aggressor. Shimrun was still more difficult to explain.”

“Piridur, what happened?”

“It started the tetrad after Rumshiza. Three flamekeepers assigned to the common hall at dinner disappeared overnight. Their naked bodies were left in the plaza—right next to the pool, there—the next morning. A pair of acolytes got stabbed in a crowd the next day. We’ve had a couple of fires, a few poisonings, and one madman who broke into an acolytes’ school with a sword. Two dead, eight injured, mostly children, in that one incident alone.”

“But you’re still holding market days.”

“This pyre needs money, Ram. We’ve got a lot of rebuilding to do here, two of our hearths have been destroyed, and since Atellu shut down the river trade isn’t what it used to be. We have no choice but to cultivate the appearance of normalcy. Make no mistake: everyone down there will be feeling anxious. They can see the clouds gather, even if they don’t know what the storm will look like.”

Ram scanned the crowd. None of them were looking his direction; it was like any other market gathering, from this height. “Why were flamekeepers assigned to the common hall dinner, anyway? That’s militia work.”

“It used to be, when we had a militia. It’s been disbanded. They were openly seditious.”

“And you only disbanded them? That’s lenient.”

“I was simplifying for brevity. Really it was more of a mass desertion, after the first couple of arrests. We don’t have the manpower to account for the deserters. We assume they’re still at large in the pyre, and responsible for the bulk of the attacks.”

There’d been something like a thousand militiamen. It would only take a tiny percentage to cause an immense amount of trouble. “It doesn’t sound to me like we have a common enemy, Piridur. It sounds to me like you do. The militia loved me.”

“They used to. Possibly not since you destroyed two hearths. Supposedly destroyed,” he amended, when Ram opened his mouth. “Anyway, the Lugal thinks not, and I believe he’s correct. We have very little evidence for what kind of organization is behind this, or even if it is just one organization, but we have letters, and propaganda.”

Ram took the slip of paper Piridur offered him. The paper was cheap, but the writing was in a good hand. He was still out of practice, and read with effort: “’The time of usurpation is over. This is the … era of the chosen people of Haranduluz. We will have no more false priests, no rule by half-men and … wizards and women and their idiot tools. We proclaim the Dominion of the Council.’ What council? Is that like a hearth council?”

“That’s as good a guess as any. We’ve only had a chance to interrogate one assassin, and him briefly, before he died of his injuries. He claimed to be under the countenance of ‘the Council’ as well, and said much the same kind of thing as that paper. Or so I hear. I wasn’t present for the interrogation.”

Ram looked back at the paper. “They think they can make a pyre work without ensis or handmaidens?”

“So it would seem. We’ve intercepted, or been given, any number of messages like that one, some of them quite long. Starting on the last waning. Whoever these people are, they have a lot of people and things they disapprove of, and are willing to use violence to get rid of them. If they have any clear idea what to replace us with, they haven’t shared it yet.”

The paper had nothing more to tell him, but he couldn’t look away. “So, this is why you called me back?”

“Why you were called back, yes. It was hoped that your appearance would improve the situation.”

“What, by me getting killed? Would that let off some stress, or distract them?”

“More the latter. And they aren’t expecting your actual death. I think the general idea is that you’d be too much for them to handle.”

“Buying your group time.” Piridur nodded. “So why are you telling me this? You don’t agree?”

“It doesn’t much matter whether I do or not; you will have to deal with the situation either way. But I do think we’ll see better results if you’re warned in advance.”

“Because you want trust?”

“Among other reasons. Don’t misunderstand me, Rammash; I am not betraying my own. But I think I know you better than any of the others do, and I see our interests differently. The others are frightened and confused, and thinking too much of the immediate term, of enduring the current crisis so we can go back to normal.”

“Yes. I’ve seen enough of the wider world that I don’t believe going back is possible. Which leaves forward. To where? I don’t know. But it’ll be easier to get there with you beside us rather than standing in the way.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint you, then.” He crumpled up the slip of paper and shoved it in his pocket. “Thank you. Is there anything else I need to know about my pyre? Anything else going wrong?”

“A great deal. Troubles are like rats: get two together and you’ll soon have hundreds.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started.”