The Vastness Read online

  He said to us, “I was a churl a year ago and was given a new life by the same men who are freeing you now. I have a wife, and we have a child on the way. I own land and horses in the north and the only man who may command me is the officer who earned the right to do so. This opportunity is now available to you. Do not think Lord Rahan the same as those before him. He has already killed many of those who do not want you to be free, and you can be assured that as long as those like me live, you will remain so.”

  The men bowed and thanked him before he walked on across the plaza.

  Pia missed all of this as she tended to her mother. They were brushing each other’s hair with their fingers and chatted about where her father could be.

  “Wait. Start from the beginning,” Pia said.

  “When they took you away from us at the pier …” she started to say and hid her face in her daughter’s hair. “… we tried to fight them. Your father was clubbed. I was knocked down and kicked in the mouth.”

  “Which way did they take father?”

  “He was tossed in with a group that worked the pier.”

  “Which pier? Would you know it if you saw it? What street was it on?”

  “A big one. Throne Street?”

  “Thorn?”

  “Yes, that was it, I think.”

  “Well, that’s a place to start,” Pia said and gave her mother a hug. “We’ll make our way there.”

  “Yes, dear,” she replied but with none of her daughter’s energy. Pia helped her up.

  “You’re coming with?” she said to me, and tugged me up by the arm before I’d thought my way to an answer. She started us northeast that same instant.

  As we were leaving the plaza, fresh smoke began to rise from somewhere far across the city. It drew everyone’s attention. Some yelled. Others ran. But who knew what it meant?

  The soldiers made no move at all, so the crowd settled.

  We made our way along Sewer Road to Thorn Street, and it was a different sight. People were back on the rows, but this time there were no chancellery insignia anywhere to be seen. Men stood in front of some of the lodges. I wondered what price they were charging for a night’s stay and who could afford it.

  A group of soldiers started up behind us, and we ducked out of the way into one of the empty alleys. The column marched by with a thick line of churls following along.

  “They’re carrying spears,” someone said, and I was startled to see it. Each man marching behind the soldiers had hold of one. They looked very proud, and the greencoat who marched alongside them encouraged their feet to move in unison.

  We moved out after them and followed them north. The passage of the soldiers had cleared the road ahead of us, and we moved quickly. A parade of sorts formed behind the churlish spearmen. Everyone chatted in wonder and wanted to know where they were going. More and more heard about the Exaltier’s offer as we walked. Many boys and men trotted back toward the plaza in hopes of getting a loaf of bread and a spear of his own.

  The road began to slope down, and we got a glimpse of the wharfs and the river between the many buildings. We reached a set of gates along a tall fence of iron bars. On the far side was street after street of tightly packed warehouses instead of row after row of tightly packed lodges. Somewhere on the other side of that fence was a warehouse that belonged to the weaver’s family. The soldiers and their churls marched down, and the large group of guards at the gate made way. The guards carried swords and big shields and wore insignia I did not know—perhaps for the family that owned that section of warehouses.

  The parade slowed. It did not look like the guards had any intention of letting us through.

  Pia kept her mother and I marching toward them, though, even as the rest began to edge away.

  “We are looking for my father,” she said to their captain. “He works at one of the Thorn Street piers. Can we pass?”

  “Everything on the wharfs has been seized by the Exaltier,” he said with a look of boredom. “Many of the dockhands scattered. I have no idea where they would be now. The recruits are using this road and the warehouses now. You best be out of the way.”

  “Please,” Pia said. “I need to find my father.”

  “And I need to find a bottle and woman who wants to share it. I think we’ll both end up unhappy. Now, piss off.”

  Pia led us away, but did not start back up Thorn Street. She instead started us west along the road that followed the iron fence. The bars were old and thick, and each ended in a great spike with a trio of hooks that curved down at us. I counted the bars as we walked, and wondered how old they were. Older than the wooden buildings the iron fence divided, that must was certain.

  I lost my count, though, to the sight of the many churls moving around the warehouses with their spears. They seemed so happy, and I smiled for them.

  The sun burned its way through the morning clouds, and I squinted against the extra light. I hoped Pia wasn’t looking for another gate. We had not found one yet, and the long walk was going to be a warm one.

  We caught glimpses of the river between the warehouses. The long ships continued to stir the river as they rowed this way and that, and the piers along that section were crammed with barges filled with wheat. Men by the hundred worked to unload them into a collection of nearby warehouses.

  Another gate came into view. This one was guarded by 220 Hemari. Half of them were on horseback, and every one of them had the stains of the Warrens upon their bluecoats and boots. These were the men who had hunted the bailiffs. Pia was not going to have any better luck talking her way past them.

  “Here,” she said, and I was surprised when she pointed at a space between two bars. One had been bent, perhaps when crates had been stacked against it. Her mother and I gave her a long look.

  “Come on,” she said. “We are all small. We can fit through. Father must be in that group working the barges. He must.”

  She pushed her mother through, and then pulled me after her as she went. The old iron scratched me as I climbed between the bars.

  Pia hurried us around the back of that warehouse and started down the thin alley between it and the next. We found a street that made its way back toward the wharfs. The air there was thick with gnats, and partway down, a crowd of churlish men sat along the road between the long warehouses. They looked like a new shift waiting to get started. I did not see any bosses or overseers, but those men did not look free to me.

  Pia thought herself to the same and said, “Second shift is starting? Perfect. Let’s get down there. We can get a look at both shifts at the same time.”

  Her mother was as hesitant as I was, but Pia pulled us along.

  We were walking through the men soon enough. They were dirty and bowed their heads. I did not like the look of them. Any one of them could …

  “Arlan Invern,” Pia said as clear as day. “I’m looking for Arlan Invern from Havish.”

  A few of the men looked up for a moment. Most of them were napping on their knees. The rest looked like they would be, too, if the gnats and heat would let them.

  “Oh, dear. Hush now,” her mother said.

  “No. We must find him. Yell his name. You too, Emi. You keep going. We’ll stay here. Yell his name. Over and over. Arlan Invern.”

  She pushed me down the street. I kept going, but the words she wanted caught in my throat. I was terrified and shivered despite the warmth.

  “Say his name,” Pia yelled at me.

  “Arlan Invern!” I screamed back at her. The sound scared me, and my throat hurt from it.

  “Go,” she urged, “before the shift changes.”

  I continued along and did as she said. “Arlan,” I called as I walked. “Arlan Invern.”

  The work crew was bigger than I expected, and the distance to the front end was farther than I had courage to cross. Through the warehouses at the far end, I could see the grain barges and the shift that was finishing. A set of men who must be their overseers stood between the two groups.


  “Arlan Invern?” I said, but my voice has gotten small. “From Havish?”

  “Get ready to move,” Came the sudden cry, and it was repeated by another who came out of a nearby warehouse. “Ready now. Bread for everyone after. Get ready to move.”

  The men began to shamble up. I would be caught up in the hundreds of moving bodies.

  I shouted as loud as I could. “I am looking for Arlan, Arlan Invern.”

  “There he is,” a shrill voice squawked, and I turned to see a toothless man point at a small man who looked ready to run. “What’s the reward?”

  The toothless man snatched the smaller by the hair and dragged him toward me. “Here he is. Here he is. This one is Arlan. Who wants him? What’s my fee for turning him in?”

  “I … I …”

  He got a closer look at me. “Who by the black ice of hell are you? Where’s my fee?”

  I thought to give him my hunk of bread, but I didn’t want this terrible little man to have it. I shrugged.

  “You little shit,” he yelled, shoved Arlan to the ground, and rushed me with a balled fist. My head snapped back before I knew what was happening, and I fell into another man.

  “Up and move,” a monstrous voice boomed while my head swam with stars.

  I tumbled to the street. Legs and feet began to move all around me. Someone kicked my thigh, and another man fell across me. His tunica smashed down across my face and the salty wool stung my lips. He stank of soot, shit, and the unwashed Warrens. I couldn’t breathe.

  Blood filled my mouth. I coughed and managed to roll over. The press subsided, and I found a man kneeling over me. I blinked and breathed until the world made sense. The crowd of men had marched on and the only one left was the small man. Arlan.

  “Who are you?” he asked. His calm gathered my attention. “Who sent you?”

  “Pia,” I mumbled and swallowed a mouthful of blood.

  “My daughter? You know her?”

  He helped me up and grimaced when he got a look at my lip. “Sorry. I have no cloth. Spit the blood out and don’t suck on it or poke at it.”

  Farther down the street, the dockworkers reached the wharfs and the previous shift was marching right at us. The men in charge would have eyes on us any moment.

  Arlan pulled me into the shade behind one of the warehouse posts. “Hurry now, girl. How do you know Pia? Is she okay?”

  I pointed back the way I’d come.

  “What? She’s there? Where?”

  His calm vanished, but I could do little but breathe and bleed. My eyes watered, and my hands shook. I wanted to sink down into the darkness and disappear.

  He hefted me up while I bled upon my tunica. I struggled to keep up and struggled to keep hold of my bread. I’d lost my cup.

  He questioned me as he dragged me along. All I could do was point.

  We got back to the spot where I had last seen Pia and her mother, but they were not there. The line of men flowed toward us. Arlan looked ready to drop me and run until a great crash from the river brought the men to a halt.

  A cheer started somewhere far away and it moved along the wharf and through the workers.

  “Way to go, Rahan,” he cheered. “There’s some good news. Finally caught that last war galley. Rahan owns the river now.”

  Pia peeked around the corner of the next warehouse. Her voice rang out. “Father!”

  He turned away from the river and let go of me. I fell as he rushed away.

  When I managed to stand, I found the three of them huddled into a tight hug while the mass of men moved ever closer.

  I stumbled across as Pia grabbed her parents’ hands. “We have to hurry. We must get to the western plaza. The Exaltier set us free and made an offer, Papa. Work for all of us.”

  “The overseers here say it’s not true.”

  “It is. I heard it for myself. It’s why I came to find you. We must get to the plaza.”

  Arlan scooped her up, took hold of his wife’s hand, and headed off in the directing Pia pointed. I struggled to keep up and spit more blood out of my mouth. I felt sick from the mouthful I’d swallowed. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  We got back down the street and through the alley to the bent bar.

  “I’m glad mother didn’t marry a brute,” Pia said. Arlan didn’t like the look of the narrow gap but Pia was convinced he could fit. It took some shoving and some pulling, but they got him to the far side. I was last and nearly didn’t make it through on my own. I hurried to catch up.

  I didn’t know the way to the western plaza. I’d never seen it. Pia was not in the least hesitant, though, and started down the road toward the next gate in the fence. She pulled her parents past the startled guards and south onto the road.

  “You’re going to get yourself hurt if you keep barging around like that,” her father said, but she ignored this, too, and tugged them along by the hand.

  I lost them in the crowd for a moment and had to run to catch up. The sun had gone back behind another gray wall of clouds, and we’d lose our light if we didn’t find the plaza soon.

  I saw her trick for it then, when I spotted a wagon and soldiers moving down the road far ahead of us.

  We saw the tall tithe tower soon after and then heard the crowd. The western plaza was louder than the last, and the sight of it slowed me as we entered. This one was more of a basin than a hill, and we could see the throngs of people gathered across the entire circle. Soldiers occupied the center of this park as well, but there were fewer wagons and a lot more yelling and confusion.

  Lord Rahan’s men were there, though, and Pia pulled us right toward the closest. I noticed that most there was from the East, and that I was the only brown face.

  The Exaltier’s man pointed Pia to the west side of the plaza, and we headed across. Several men stood in the backs of wagons there. They were men of the East, rich men, with their own soldiers. Behind the line of wagons were several tables and men with books and brushes.

  “There’s a friendly face,” one of the rich easterners said to Arlan. “You didn’t survive the Warrens carrying sacks and barrels. Recent arrival? Craftsman?”

  “I held master's credentials,” Arlan replied and bowed to him as straight and proper as a lord. “What’s the offer?”

  “It is a pledge of service to Lord Rahan himself. He’ll make you a bondsman and pay you a wage if you’re willing to work for it.”

  Arlan bowed again. He could find no other words this time, and a tear rolled down his face.

  “Give your name to the man at the table, friend.”

  Arlan led us around and gave his name to the man the brush and book. Pia gave hers, followed by her mother. The man scribbled it all into his book, gave them each a small note, and pointed them farther west.

  “Go with that group there. They’ll get you set up,” he said to Arlan and then looked at me. “Are you with them?”

  “She’s my friend,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “You’re not eastern at all. What are you, Kuetish? Move along back the way you came.”

  I looked to Pia, but she was wrapped in her father’s arms and did not look back as they strode away.

  “Pia,” I said. My dry eyes filled with tears and stung me. “Come back.”

  She didn’t hear me. She didn’t look back.

  “Move it,” the man said and looked ready to come around the table after me.

  I walked back through the plaza and east into the streets. The flow of easterners heading the other way almost pushed me into an open sewer grate. I got clear of it and was shoved off the street onto a deserted row. It was quieter there, and cool. I sat down out of sight between two lodges.

  I searched my clothes for my bread, only to remember shifting it out of the way to get through the iron bars. I’d dropped it, and had nothing left but the crumbs that itched my skin.

  I pulled my arms inside my tunica and tears dripped from my chin. Sleep took me.

  8

  Emi
/>   Craft

  The approach of a man woke me before the dawn. A half dozen followed him. “Get out of here,” he said, and made to kick me. “This is our row now.”

  I rolled away in time and hurried out into the street.

  It was about that time of morning when first shift would roll off its shelves, but the streets were empty. Where had everyone gone? Not everyone was from the East or so happy to carry a spear.

  I wanted someone to tell me what to do—where to go. There was no one.

  “I said, get out of here,” the same man yelled and threw a stone at me. I ducked it and ran as the stone and another clattered across the old cobblestones.

  I kept walking and spotted the central plaza’s tithe tower ahead of me. The street was cool and quiet, so I kept on until it emptied onto the plaza’s hill.

  The wagons and the soldiers were there in the center, and many thousands slept out in the open around them, but the great crowds were gone. Everyone was happy to be sleeping, and as I stepped through them, I saw why. They were the people from the bowels of the Warrens. Hairless. Toothless. They slept, and looked capable of nothing more.

  I bumped into someone and jumped back. It was Master Pickesh. He sagged and squinted at me as though he’d not slept.

  “You have a skill?” he asked as I backed away. “Calm yourself, girl. It’s not a trick question. Do you know a craft?”

  I yearned for the pattern books then, and nodded.

  “Well, good enough then. The Exaltier is signing all those with a skill,” he said and raised his tired voice to the sleepers. “And the same goes for the rest of you. Those who can hold a spear, go see the sergeants across the plaza. Those from the eastern provinces head west. Those with a skill, head to the plaza southeast of here and tell the men there what you can do. They’ll sort you out. You can’t lie about here much longer.”

  A few started moving, but the rest did not look able. This distressed the man. The crowd had been fed and watered as he had promised. He had managed an offer for soldiers. He’d managed an offer for those from the East, and now had one for those who knew a trade. That left many, and he had nothing else for them.