His eyes ached, and he pressed his fingertips against his lids.
I’m getting old.
Tohlim never used to get tired when he traveled. Now, however, he found journeying back and forth from the capital to various parts of the kingdom exhausting. He missed the days when he’d managed the salt mines. Everything had been so much simpler then. He knew that job had built the foundation for his current work, though. Salt was a precious asset comparable to gold. Tohlim carried the authority to distribute it throughout Aquafa, and he’d nurtured strong bonds with clans in every region, and those connections were still useful.
He raised his head and gazed out the window. Outside, the world was cloaked in blue dusk.
I should get changed.
He was to have dinner with Hohsalle and Milalle tonight for the first time in a while. They’d been visiting the village of the Yusula Oma every day. Perhaps they’d made some progress.
When Tohlim had put out feelers at the Academy of Deeper Learning, he learned that Hohsalle and Milalle led the development of a new medicine for treating mittsual. Everyone he’d asked spoke highly of those two, and many harbored hopes that they would discover a cure. Unfortunately, Tohlim had also learned that no matter how skilled the physician, it was impossible to produce a new medicine quickly, especially one to combat such a fearsome sickness.
But we’ve run out of time. Even if they can develop a remedy with incredible speed, it won’t be soon enough to save us from the fix we’re in.
About two weeks ago, the Mukonians attacked a fort in the Toga Mountains. According to the information Tohlim had received, the fort was badly damaged before a pack of dogs routed the Mukonians.
The report, which had arrived by courier pigeon, lacked detail, but despite its brevity, it was obvious that this development heralded a new phase. The king had also realized that he could no longer wait and see what happened. Governor Ohan and his son Yotalu had guessed some time ago who was behind the attacks. They knew, yet they feigned ignorance so as not to make things worse. The king had to get rid of Kenoi before everything collapsed. If he failed to prove his loyalty in this discrete way, the Zolians would take action and crush any opposition.
The band of warriors entrusted with the king’s mission should have reached the Toga Mountains by now. If they had managed to stop Kenoi, the news was bound to reach Tohlim eventually. When it did, he would have to convince the Ahfal Oma who lived near here not to do anything rash.
Tohlim covered his eyes with a hand and sighed. The faces of the Ahfal Oma when they learned they were to be exiled from their land remained seared into his memory. Old women had stared blankly at homes they’d never see again; young women had crumpled to their knees, weeping.
They should never have been given hope…
When Kenoi had come to negotiate, claiming that he could reclaim Aquafa with the Kinma dogs, the king should have told him point blank that Aquafa could no longer survive without Zol. If only he’d explained that the Zolians were not the parasites the Ahfal Oma made them out to be, that they were like gardeners who fertilized the tree of Aquafa. They trimmed its branches and watched over its growth. The tree those gardeners had pruned was no longer its old shape, and they took much of its fruit. Still, if a storm came, they would protect it and keep it watered so that it grew strong and healthy.
Many years had passed since Aquafa’s annexation. During that time, the tiny kingdom had been transformed. Zol now shouldered its economy and its defense. Should the empire decide to abandon Aquafa, it would lose its gardener, its water source, and its sheltering walls. Exposed to wind and storm, it would wither and die.
Admittedly, there were numerous problems. Aquafa groaned under the costs of military defense, unjust taxes, and the influx of settlers. But these issues could be resolved through political negotiation. Insurrection and conspiracy would solve nothing. Tohlim had told Hohsalle that the settlers were a burden, but if they left now, the marketplace would be thrown into chaos.
The king knew this all too well.
Yet he still lost himself to that dream briefly. The wholly unrealistic notion of an Aquafa ruled once again by the Aquafaese, of taking the reins of authority back into his hands. He’d probably thought that Kenoi’s goal was impossible, that he couldn’t achieve much. However, the king should never have given Kenoi such an ambiguous response. It left Kenoi with a sliver of hope. The king’s vague sense of pity had sentenced the Ahfal Oma to a hideously cruel future.
Tohlim sighed again. There was a knock on the door, accompanied by a voice that requested permission to enter.
“Come in,” he bade. The door opened, and one of his men walked into the room.
“Pardon me for interrupting you, sir. One of the Yusula Oma is here with what he says is an urgent message. He wants to talk with you privately where the Ofal Oma, the People of the Mountains, cannot overhear.”
“A Yusula Oma? Who?”
The man looked uncomfortable. “I asked, but he would not give me his name. Shall I bring him to you?”
Tohlim was about to nod but then thought better of it. He shook his head. It wouldn’t do for a stranger to see the hall’s interior or to learn the location of this room.
“I will go to him.”
As the man led the way to the stairs, Tohlim heard a rumble of footsteps below. This hall had been set aside by the clan chief for Tohlim’s use during visits to Otai, and it was always manned by thirty Aquafaese soldiers. As Tohlim had brought along two more squads of ten each, fifty soldiers were now stationed here. It was getting close to dinnertime, and the men were surely on their way to the dining hall.
As Tohlim walked down the stairs, some soldiers caught sight of him and snapped to attention. He waved his hand, gesturing for them to carry on to the dining room, then headed for the back door.
The cold wind greeted Tohlim when he stepped outside, rustling the dark forest covering the hill beyond the wall. A guardsman raised his spear in salute. Tohlim nodded in acknowledgment and approached the small figure who stood beside the guard. Light seeping from the back door shone dimly on the man’s face. He was middle-aged with plain features and seemed familiar, but Tohlim couldn’t recall where they’d met. His face was like so many of those who lived in the marshes. Perhaps Tohlim had seen him in the village.
“Are you the one who wished to see me?”
The man bowed low. “That is correct, sir. I beg your pardon for disturbing you in this way.”
“You claimed it was urgent.”
The man lifted his head and replied in a low voice. “I bring a message from Sir Hohsalle. He asks that you come quickly and bring as few men with you as quickly as possible so that the Ofal Oma do not see you leave.”
Tohlim scowled. Why would Hohsalle wish to avoid being noticed by the People of the Mountains? The Ofal Oma maintained close ties with the Otawalle’s Servants of the Inner Circle. Hohsalle was an Otawalle himself. Why would he worry about being seen?
“Where is Sir Hohsalle?”
“He is with us.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, sir. I have told you all he conveyed.”
Tohlim turned to his subordinate to confirm these claims. “Sir Hohsalle hasn’t returned yet?”
The man shook his head. “No, not yet. He’s never been away this late, and we were just discussing whether or not we should send some men to find him.”
“I see. In that case, gather three men from the dining hall, but don’t tell them why.”
The man nodded and disappeared inside.
Tohlim followed the man from the Yusula Oma through the forest. To avoid running into any Ofal Oma, they had left by the back gate of the capital and taken a path that led to the marshes through the wooded hill behind the hall.
Dusk had left the forest pitch-dark. The lanterns carried by the Aquafaese soldiers only illumined their feet. None among them could see very far ahead. Thankfully, their guide seemed to know his way and led them unerringly.
As he watched the man bob in and out of the lantern light, Tohlim felt his flesh prickle. The sensation always spoke to approaching danger when he’d worked in the mines, as though his subconscious picked up on something his waking mind had not yet registered.
Why?
Why did something feel wrong? Was it just a general fear of the dark?
The man leading Tohlim’s group had a distinctive gait. Whenever he stepped forward, his left shoulder dipped. Tohlim gasped as he watched him.
I remember. He…
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, an owl hooted. Nakka stopped and pointed to Tohlim, then jumped into the shadow of a tree off the path. The soldier walking beside Tohlim cried out and dropped his lantern. He groaned, clapped a hand to his neck, fell to his knees, and crumpled forward.
“Ambush!” Tohlim shouted.
The bushes along the path swayed, and dark figures emerged, white blades flashing in the lantern light.