Seeds of Rebellion
Page 90
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Drake reached for his sword.
“Stop!” Farfalee commanded. “This discussion has limped forward long enough.”
Drake left his sword sheathed. Nollin smirked at him. By now the entire delegation had become engrossed by the argument.
“Yes, we have different viewpoints represented among us,” she continued. “Yes, we have a displacer in our number, and a half giant, and a seedman who publically disgraced us.”
“She’s talking about you,” Drake muttered to Nollin, loud enough to draw a laugh.
“No, Drake, I’m talking about you,” Farfalee corrected. “Nollin’s views are shared by many of our people. Nollin never accepted a bribe from Maldor to hide from his problems in a debasing frenzy of self-indulgence.”
“It didn’t work,” Drake said. “The hiding, I mean.”
“If you speak again, we will leave you behind,” Farfalee threatened.
Drake raised both palms in surrender.
Farfalee smoothed her hands down across her robes. “As I was saying, our delegation represents diverse viewpoints. Some of us have reason to dislike or mistrust one another. But we are all united by a common goal: we want to know what the Prophetess of Mianamon can predict about the outcome of a rebellion. It does no good to speculate about what she will foresee. I think Nollin and Drake have already debated the possibilities enough for the entire trip. I move we don’t discuss the matter again.”
“Seconded,” Kerick said.
“Any opposed?” Farfalee asked, her intense eyes daring anyone to speak up. Nobody did. “Fair enough. Does any member of this group have a problem with the presence of any other member? Be honest. Speak now, or keep silent hereafter.”
“Aram snores,” Ferrin said.
Several people, including Rachel, strained to resist laughter.
Farfalee looked exasperated. “Does this seem like a useful time for humor?”
“I’m not joking,” Ferrin deadpanned. “It sounds like a bear drowning in a tar pit.”
Bursts of laughter escaped several people, including Rachel. Aram really did snore.
“I take no pleasure in traveling with a displacer,” Delissa said. The mood suddenly became much more sober. A couple of the other seedmen murmured agreement.
“Galloran entrusted Nedwin with the piece of my neck,” Ferrin assured her. “He can slay me at will.”
“I just hope it won’t be too late,” Nollin muttered.
Ferrin folded his arms. “Just as Drake can do little about the cowardly reputation of his people, I can’t do much about the untrustworthy reputation of mine.”
The statement elicited an outburst from the seedmen. Drake stared at the ground, lips trembling as he resisted laughter.
“Stop!” Farfalee demanded.
“The displacer isn’t wrong,” Tark said. “The reputation of the Amar Kabal has fallen.”
“Very well,” Andrus said, drawing his sword. “He’s welcome to test himself against me.”
“You’re missing the point,” Ferrin said calmly. “Nobody questions that you’re fine warriors. In fact, your prowess only makes you appear more cowardly. No one blames a weakling for hiding from a fight.”
“You claim to be tarnished by the reputation of your people,” Andrus said, sheathing his blade. “We have scouts, Ferrin. We know about you personally. You’re as slippery as any displacer serving the emperor.”
“Then your scouts should also know I have irrevocably fallen out of favor with the emperor,” Ferrin replied. “I may have been slippery, but until he turned on me, I was always loyal to him. I am now loyal to Jason and Galloran. I have proven that loyalty in every way possible, and will continue to do so. You will likely need my help as we approach the eastern battlefront. There will be considerable imperial traffic to navigate.”
“I do not ask any of us to fully trust the displacer,” Farfalee said. “But I do ask whether any among us cannot abide his company. If so, speak now, so we may replace you.”
“Replace us?” Delissa complained. “For a displacer?”
“For a member of the delegation approved by the Conclave,” Farfalee rephrased. “If he were not willing to work with us, he would be left behind. But he appears willing.”
“We’re willing too,” Andrus said.
“Delissa?” Farfalee asked.
“I won’t make trouble,” she pledged.
“This is no casual exercise,” Farfalee said. “We’re about to pass the point of no return. This delegation must be united. A difficult road awaits us. We can’t afford internal strife.”
“May I speak now?” Drake asked, raising a finger.
“I suppose you’ll have to resume at some point,” Farfalee said.
“Who made you the leader?”
Her jaw tightened. “Take your pick: experience, competence, intelligence, charisma—”
“Also the Conclave agreed to it with Galloran,” Kerick interceded.
“Very well,” Drake said, clearing his throat theatrically. “Now that we have all of this settled, I move, less talking, more walking.”
“Seconded,” Nedwin said tiredly.
The motion passed unanimously.
CHAPTER 21
HOWLING NOTCH
The days began to blur as Jason marched northward into the soaring mountains. At first he had frequently paused to admire the jaw-dropping vistas of rugged cliffs, glittering cascades, chiseled ridgelines, hidden lakes, and craggy peaks. Although he lived in the Rockies and had visited several national parks, he had never witnessed such consistently grand, dramatic terrain.
But eventually the postcard panoramas became so commonplace that he began to lose the ability to view them with fresh eyes. Instead of basking in the beauty, he started to focus on how steep the trail was to the next rise, or how closely the narrow path ran along the brink of the cliff up ahead, or how far the way had to twist and wind to cross a relatively short distance.
There seemed to be no end to the mountains. No matter how high they climbed, when peering ahead or back or off to either side, only more rocky slopes and stony crests remained in view, rank upon rank, a granitic ocean sculpted over eons.
The way became more challenging the deeper they progressed into the maze of canyons and summits. More often the trail became a ledge with a sheer drop on one hand and a steep rise on the other. More often, dizzying crevices were spanned by wobbly rope bridges. More often, carved tunnels or natural caves granted access through otherwise impassible terrain.
“Stop!” Farfalee commanded. “This discussion has limped forward long enough.”
Drake left his sword sheathed. Nollin smirked at him. By now the entire delegation had become engrossed by the argument.
“Yes, we have different viewpoints represented among us,” she continued. “Yes, we have a displacer in our number, and a half giant, and a seedman who publically disgraced us.”
“She’s talking about you,” Drake muttered to Nollin, loud enough to draw a laugh.
“No, Drake, I’m talking about you,” Farfalee corrected. “Nollin’s views are shared by many of our people. Nollin never accepted a bribe from Maldor to hide from his problems in a debasing frenzy of self-indulgence.”
“It didn’t work,” Drake said. “The hiding, I mean.”
“If you speak again, we will leave you behind,” Farfalee threatened.
Drake raised both palms in surrender.
Farfalee smoothed her hands down across her robes. “As I was saying, our delegation represents diverse viewpoints. Some of us have reason to dislike or mistrust one another. But we are all united by a common goal: we want to know what the Prophetess of Mianamon can predict about the outcome of a rebellion. It does no good to speculate about what she will foresee. I think Nollin and Drake have already debated the possibilities enough for the entire trip. I move we don’t discuss the matter again.”
“Seconded,” Kerick said.
“Any opposed?” Farfalee asked, her intense eyes daring anyone to speak up. Nobody did. “Fair enough. Does any member of this group have a problem with the presence of any other member? Be honest. Speak now, or keep silent hereafter.”
“Aram snores,” Ferrin said.
Several people, including Rachel, strained to resist laughter.
Farfalee looked exasperated. “Does this seem like a useful time for humor?”
“I’m not joking,” Ferrin deadpanned. “It sounds like a bear drowning in a tar pit.”
Bursts of laughter escaped several people, including Rachel. Aram really did snore.
“I take no pleasure in traveling with a displacer,” Delissa said. The mood suddenly became much more sober. A couple of the other seedmen murmured agreement.
“Galloran entrusted Nedwin with the piece of my neck,” Ferrin assured her. “He can slay me at will.”
“I just hope it won’t be too late,” Nollin muttered.
Ferrin folded his arms. “Just as Drake can do little about the cowardly reputation of his people, I can’t do much about the untrustworthy reputation of mine.”
The statement elicited an outburst from the seedmen. Drake stared at the ground, lips trembling as he resisted laughter.
“Stop!” Farfalee demanded.
“The displacer isn’t wrong,” Tark said. “The reputation of the Amar Kabal has fallen.”
“Very well,” Andrus said, drawing his sword. “He’s welcome to test himself against me.”
“You’re missing the point,” Ferrin said calmly. “Nobody questions that you’re fine warriors. In fact, your prowess only makes you appear more cowardly. No one blames a weakling for hiding from a fight.”
“You claim to be tarnished by the reputation of your people,” Andrus said, sheathing his blade. “We have scouts, Ferrin. We know about you personally. You’re as slippery as any displacer serving the emperor.”
“Then your scouts should also know I have irrevocably fallen out of favor with the emperor,” Ferrin replied. “I may have been slippery, but until he turned on me, I was always loyal to him. I am now loyal to Jason and Galloran. I have proven that loyalty in every way possible, and will continue to do so. You will likely need my help as we approach the eastern battlefront. There will be considerable imperial traffic to navigate.”
“I do not ask any of us to fully trust the displacer,” Farfalee said. “But I do ask whether any among us cannot abide his company. If so, speak now, so we may replace you.”
“Replace us?” Delissa complained. “For a displacer?”
“For a member of the delegation approved by the Conclave,” Farfalee rephrased. “If he were not willing to work with us, he would be left behind. But he appears willing.”
“We’re willing too,” Andrus said.
“Delissa?” Farfalee asked.
“I won’t make trouble,” she pledged.
“This is no casual exercise,” Farfalee said. “We’re about to pass the point of no return. This delegation must be united. A difficult road awaits us. We can’t afford internal strife.”
“May I speak now?” Drake asked, raising a finger.
“I suppose you’ll have to resume at some point,” Farfalee said.
“Who made you the leader?”
Her jaw tightened. “Take your pick: experience, competence, intelligence, charisma—”
“Also the Conclave agreed to it with Galloran,” Kerick interceded.
“Very well,” Drake said, clearing his throat theatrically. “Now that we have all of this settled, I move, less talking, more walking.”
“Seconded,” Nedwin said tiredly.
The motion passed unanimously.
CHAPTER 21
HOWLING NOTCH
The days began to blur as Jason marched northward into the soaring mountains. At first he had frequently paused to admire the jaw-dropping vistas of rugged cliffs, glittering cascades, chiseled ridgelines, hidden lakes, and craggy peaks. Although he lived in the Rockies and had visited several national parks, he had never witnessed such consistently grand, dramatic terrain.
But eventually the postcard panoramas became so commonplace that he began to lose the ability to view them with fresh eyes. Instead of basking in the beauty, he started to focus on how steep the trail was to the next rise, or how closely the narrow path ran along the brink of the cliff up ahead, or how far the way had to twist and wind to cross a relatively short distance.
There seemed to be no end to the mountains. No matter how high they climbed, when peering ahead or back or off to either side, only more rocky slopes and stony crests remained in view, rank upon rank, a granitic ocean sculpted over eons.
The way became more challenging the deeper they progressed into the maze of canyons and summits. More often the trail became a ledge with a sheer drop on one hand and a steep rise on the other. More often, dizzying crevices were spanned by wobbly rope bridges. More often, carved tunnels or natural caves granted access through otherwise impassible terrain.
