Home shattered, p.8
Home Shattered, page 8
Hunter shook his head. “I can’t leave my mom undefended. She needs the crossbow bolts to equip her soldiers.”
Brouglas spat in the dirt. “Sounds like she’s afraid of her own rodents. That’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think, lad? She must be quite unpopular here. You set these Mulchers free and you can make sure that legacy stays with her instead of your family.”
“Pay them for all the work they’ve already done.” Jab cast an eye skyward. He’d definitely missed the prayer time, and he hoped what he was trying to do would satisfy the All-Planter’s commandment.
Hunter reached for his belt and grabbed an acorn pouch. “We need my money to pay for a boat.”
Jab shook his head. “We’ll find another way. Apologize, pay up, tell Gizlee, and we’ll head back toward the city with the boat.”
By now, some of the red squirrels had stopped working and were peeking around houses. It was here, Jab realized, how depressed they all seemed. The part of his brain that had tried to embody Sanu was screaming that these rodents should have revolted. But seeing how pathetic Hunter was, Jab was glad they hadn’t. The poor boy was a puppet for his master.
Hoofbeats clopped in the distance, and Hunter’s eyes widened. “We have to go.”
Brouglas pushed Hunter’s shoulder, much harder than he had with Jab a few minutes ago. “No. Do as Sanu says.”
Sanu?
Jab winced at the wrong name, but reminded himself that he would get confused for his twin often in life. The hoofbeats grew louder. Jab hadn’t heard that many horses since the siege.
A band of five riders bounded up the road.
“No,” Hunter whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Jab said, turning around.
The band rode past Jab and his companions, moving up the side of the lane between the shacks and the timber.
“I’ve dealt with bandits once already today,” Brouglas hissed. “I don’t fancy tangling with any more.”
“Those aren’t bandits,” Hunter said.
Jab’s paw fell toward his scimitar. “Who are they?”
“My mom’s riders. They’re collecting the wood early.”
One rider strode up the lane. “Prince Hunter?” The rider grabbed his spear and pointed it at Brouglas. “And who are you, abducting the prince?” The language came in Frenglese, not the mishmash they’d heard in town.
The question came with spears, drawn and pointed at Jab and Brouglas’s necks.
16
Sanu
When I enlisted, I thought my sergeant was the cruelest squirrel in all the Great Sea. He drove us to the brink, insisting war would do worse, so we had better be prepared. Yet my squad became the most reliable group I’d ever known. It was the shared burden that bound us together. You may recognize my sergeant, for he was also the one who trained you. When the ruling council gave me control of this army, I dug him out of retirement. Learn from him like he’s your grandparent.
- General Ironseed’s reprimand to a failed sergeant.
Their meals came from the kitchen with the owner and his son, who placed food on the table in front of Ridgerd first, then Nett, and Yagub and Sanu last. The promised Coppergrass dish’s nutty and pine aroma filled the air, and Sanu’s stomach roared more than it had since he’d craved Mom’s sheltercake. Realizing that he got his food while Lady Marjitay went hungry, made everything smell better too.
“Sapling Galdwin!” Ridgerd called. “Since you have elected to fast, it would honor us all if you led the blessing on our food.”
The beaver narrowed his eyes. “It was made by Mulchers, so I don’t have to.”
The banner carriers and trumpeters at the other table stared wide-eyed.
“In fact, my liege,” Galdwin hissed, “I’m shocked you’d eat anything here. It’s quite profane.”
The hamster’s eyes narrowed, and under his breath, he retorted, “You say that about everything I do.” Straightening, he stood and placed a paw on Sanu’s shoulder. “Correct me if I’m wrong, dear Sapling, but was it not Ganan, Blest be Him, who miraculously purified rancid food? You can correct me on the story, but if memory serves, it was a plate of dark beans, much like what this fine gentlerodent has prepared for me, and this doesn’t look bad at all, but fresh and scrumptious. Remind me of the dish’s name?” He extended his paw toward the owner, and nodded with a grand smile.
The Mulcher bowed. “Thank you, good king. It’s called loov.”
“‘Loov,’” Ridgerd repeated. “So, my gracious Sapling, if I keep the name of Ganan, Blest be Him, upon my lips, it can purify anything. Much like how you are fasting the entire day to purify your own heart from judgmental thoughts.”
Sanu wondered if saying the name of a holy person was the best idea for making sure food was safe to eat. He didn’t think shouting “All-Planter” would remove bird poop from food. He glanced around the table and found Nett and Yagub didn’t appreciate the back-and-forth as much as Sanu had.
The hamster king motioned toward the food. “I thank the All-Planter for sending Ganan, Blest be Him, who sent the truth. I thank the chef who sent the food, and the plants and animals who provided. To a blessed meal!”
Sanu observed the other rodents in attendance raising their forks in the air, with the exception of the few Mulchers in the room, who bowed their heads. He wondered if their forks were somehow miniature representations of Ganan’s Rake in their eyes, but he didn’t want to ask. Yagub’s eyes were on Nett, and Sanu wondered what had happened to his friend. Nett was nice, but he couldn’t understand Yagub’s infatuation. He hoped for a brief second he hadn’t been looking at Cladh like that while in ZelZaytun. But of course, he hadn’t. That would be silly.
As the toast ended, Nett shoved her fork into her food. “You are crossing the wrong people, my king.”
“I’m only worried about crossing the All-Planter.” The hamster dug a spoon into his loov and took a bite.
Yagub’s mouth dropped. “You aren’t testing it for poison?”
King Ridgerd waved his fork in a tight circle while pointing it at him. “My test is my nose. I’m not sure if you had an overbearing mother, but imagine one with a queen’s resources at her disposal.” He sniffed the morsel, and the nutty aroma wafted over to Sanu. “Most poisons have a smell. The ones that don’t discolor food. Any others are destroyed by cooking the food.” He took a bite and winked at Yagub.
Sanu accepted this as his signal to start eating. The loov carried a sharp bite and it excited his stomach like he was breaking a fast. As he chewed, he realized that Jab would love this; they’d eat it together one day soon.
The doors to the tavern opened, but Sanu couldn’t see around the king to get a good look at whoever entered.
As everyone else began eating, the owner hobbled over. “Does the king find it pleasing?”
Ridgerd grabbed a kerchief and dabbed the corners of his mouth. “No.”
Sanu raised an eyebrow and Nett rolled her eyes.
As the Mulcher owner backed away with drooped whiskers, Ridgerd slammed his paw on the table. “Pleasing is too weak a word, my friend. I’ll bring my chef to meet you. He’ll learn this from you. Fetch me another.”
A new voice broke in. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” The interloper was the mole rat trumpeter who greeted them before. “Lady Gavrer is ready for you in the mayor’s mansion.”
Ridgerd took another hearty bite, pushing the food to the side of his cheek and puffing it out like a balloon. He motioned for Sanu to scoot down. “Sit with us, friend. Eat.”
The trumpeter frowned. “King Ridgerd, I came to fetch you.”
Behind him, Sapling Galdwin and Lady Marjitay approached.
Ridgerd sighed. “Nett and Yagub, I’m sure you two would love an expedition together. Return to the ship and bring the chefs here. Have the other crews disembark so the whole army might enjoy the delights of this city.”
Galdwin tutted. “My liege, unloading an army in such a manner would be seen as an act of war. You do not wish for war on Coppergrass Isle.”
“Of course I don’t,” Ridgerd said while chewing. “But perhaps unloading an army will hasten a response to my question about who is ruling and where my cousin is?” He gulped down his drink and cut his next bite. “I suppose asking a mayor to wait for a king would be an act of war also?”
“It’s certainly insulting,” Lady Marjitay said.
Sanu repressed the urge to shout “so is your face,” but he kept it in check.
“Fine then. I wouldn’t be so rude.” Ridgerd motioned for the owner to come back over. “The Sapling here will pay for our meal as an apology for his unkind remarks about Mulchers. Sometimes he gets so twisted in philosophy he forgets pragmatics.”
Sanu finished his meal faster than he would’ve liked. The beans and onions tasted so good he wished he could’ve stretched out the experience of eating it. He couldn’t believe a king had to listen to rodents like this.
As Sir Galdwin grumbled and reached for his gold pouch, Ridgerd stood and motioned for the others at his table to do the same. He placed a wide hand on the trumpeter’s shoulder. “Lead the way, my good man.”
Outside, a carriage awaited with two regal white horses at the front. The trumpeter motioned toward it. “We prepared this for you, King Ridgerd.”
“Ha!” Ridgerd walked over as his own trumpeter and banner carriers hurried beside him. He stood beside the carriage and pointed to its carved wood roof. “Do you think I could fit in such a small contraption? And if you can’t carry me and my whole entourage, I won’t ride while they walk.” He gestured to the buildings around them. “I want to experience Newhouse City. Allow me to smell this beautiful place and see the wonderful rodents in it as we walk. Surely, Mayor … Gavrer, was it? Surely, she wouldn’t expect me to speed away in a carriage by myself without my men at my side.”
Yagub’s eyes widened, and Sanu understood his emotion this time. Being one of Ridgerd’s “men” felt prestigious. For such a giant and charismatic hamster to find some lowly squirrel worthy of manhood, felt empowering.
“Allow Lady Marjitay to ride.” The king opened the door and motioned for her. “Since you decided to fast, you must be feeling weak. Please ride. Your king requests it.”
The mole rat grumbled before entering the carriage, and Ridgerd assisted her in a way that almost seemed kind.
Once inside, the mole rat stuck her head out the window. “Permit the Sapling to ride with me. He also must be tired after you declared he was fasting.”
As she finished speaking, Galdwin stepped out of the inn, carrying a noticeably smaller coin pouch. “I am quite tired from fasting.”
Ridgerd’s eye twitched.
Sanu nudged Yagub. “There’s enough room in there for you too,” he whispered. “Go inside.”
“What?” Yagub whispered back.
“Ridgerd wants to be able to watch what those two are doing. By putting them together in a closed carriage, they could plot something.”
Nett poked her head around from Yagub’s side. “He won’t be safe alone.” The porcupine grabbed Yagub by the wrist and stood before the king. “My liege, let us join them. I need to divide my time between you and the Sapling.”
Ridgerd glanced down at Sanu and winked, then hailed the mayor’s trumpeter. “Surely, you could fit two more in there? I have the Sapling’s assistant and one of my guardsrodents here who can join them.” Ridgerd pulled the door open for the Sapling and peered inside. “Yes, there’s enough room. Come on, you two, enjoy the ride. Listen to everything you can about this fine settlement. As for me, I shall walk together with my friends.”
Once Yagub and Nett entered, the carriage lurched forward as the driver urged on the horses.
The trek through Newhouse allowed Sanu to appreciate the city’s architecture. Growing up, he mostly ignored buildings’ appearances, but after his time in the Holy City, the majesty of buildings drew him in. These buildings sported domes like in ZelZaytun and in Rattin, but they had Ganan’s Rakes on top of them like in Freng.
He scanned the streets for signs of Grovekeepers, but aside from a bakery that sold sheltercakes, he couldn’t find any. One building looked like it might have been a prayer hall, but the spot where the Grovekeeper symbol would have been was bare. He wasn’t sure what the Mulchers called their holy buildings, but he felt like he would’ve known one if he’d seen it.
“Admiring the city?” Ridgerd asked, breaking Sanu from his architectural trance.
“Oh, yes. I was hoping to see some Grovekeepers here.”
Ridgerd scratched his chin. “That is odd. Coppergrass Isle is famous in Freng. It’s always been a place where the three great faiths lived peaceably.”
Sanu nodded, debating if he should add that Qawar was like that too … until the Frenglese invaders came during his grandparents’ time. He decided against it, since Ridgerd’s grandfather led the invasion. “So where are they then?”
“That’s a good question. I’d like to know, myself.”
Sanu breathed deep. “You don’t hate Grovekeepers, right?”
The hamster arched an eyebrow. “You’re the only Grovekeeper I’ve had much contact with, and you’re a delight. I’m sure you have both the virtuous and the villainous, like with Sprouters.”
Sanu fought the urge to clench his fist. “Then why invade Qawar? Lots of Grovekeepers will die if you do.”
Tearing his gaze from Sanu, Ridgerd exhaled a deep sigh. “Such is the reality of war. I wish there were another way. But all those rodents on my ship? They believe retaking the Holy City will allow them into the Walled Garden. It might do that for me too. Or at least keep me from the Droughtlands.”
“But why would you go to the Droughtlands? You’re a good king.”
“Thank you,” Ridgerd said after a mirthless laugh. “Sapling Galdwin and Lady Marjitay know what kind of a rodent I am. My father did too. If they are right, then all hope might be lost for me.” A sadness infused the king’s voice that Sanu didn’t understand.
“Is it because you play pranks on them? Like with the fasting?”
“No.” Ridgerd brought his weary gaze back to Sanu, then tore it away. “I am as the All-Planter made me. But in the eyes of many, being who I am means being destined for the Droughtlands.”
Sanu’s eyes drifted to Ridgerd’s giant sword. “A fighter, you mean? Because the All-Planter made you huge and good in a fight?”
“Let’s go with that. The All-Planter gave me my size, but it’s my father who molded me into a fighter. Supplying the garrison at Castle Kraksnout to keep Lady Marjitay on her throne while he warmed his own was my father’s crowning achievement. All the Frenglese nations are supposed to supply the Olihort soldiers, but none did more than my father.”
Sanu’s tail stiffened. “You’re waging a war because of him, aren’t you? You’re trying to live up to his expectations.”
Some of Ridgerd’s mirth returned. “With a mind as sharp as yours, I’m impressed with myself even more for beating you in double siege. And I promise, I’m not. I couldn’t satisfy him in life, so I doubt I can in death. My hope is to arrive in Qawar with an unstoppable army, and Nasalid will surrender without a fight, which would be my preference. So many of the seedlings I had to bring despise me because they listen to the Sapling. And that boat we lost had most of the soldiers who hate me too.”
Bitter bile rose in Sanu’s throat. “The last time a Frenglese army came over, all the people of ZelZaytun were slaughtered.”
“Not very knightly,” Ridgerd replied. “I would not allow my soldiers to act in such a way. We’re warriors of the All-Planter, not some shirtless Mausfjord raiders. And you should know my grandfather fought against that particular decision.”
Cloppa
The carriage sped away, startling the trumpeter and banner carriers.
“What?” Ridgerd demanded. “Why are they speeding ahead?”
The king’s trumpeter stopped in his tracks. “I don’t know. They have some reason to get to the mayor first.”
“That’s not good,” Ridgerd said. He turned to the banner carrier and Sanu. “We’re running to catch up. Treachery is afoot.”
As Sanu pursued the royal hamster, he noticed a single Grovekeeper prayer hall with the windows bashed in. His blood ran cold. This was not a safe place.
17
Jab
Is there a place I cannot find you? Is there a thought I cannot hear? Be honest with me, for I already know.
- Divine Poetics
In a thicket of stubby citrus trees, iron manacles clamped on Jab’s wrists, and a steel spear hovered near his face.
Jab mustered his best Frenglese. “We are Hunter’s friends. He—” Jab jerked his head in Brouglas’s direction, “—is knight.”
The beaver struggled against his own manacles. “The spiny mouse was escorting us to passage off the island.”
Hunter’s gaze fell to his hindpaws. “Um, they kidnapped me. Rado Town isn’t safe for me now. I can’t go back there.”
“What?” The lead rider, a gopher, dismounted and trudged up to Brouglas. The gopher backpawed Brouglas with his iron gauntlet, impacting the beaver’s cheek. Something cracked.
Grunting, the beaver knight spat out a molar. “He speaks false. The boy was escaping his own mother. For her to hire scum like you, I understand why.”
“Hmpf.” The gopher shook his wrist. “We’ll see what Baroness Bohbrat says about that.”
Jab shuddered, beholding the rider’s metal armor. He’d seen Sir Brouglas in full armor once, and he’d seen other Frenglese soldiers parade about in their suits, but what this one wore was something else entirely. A blackened covering of interlocked chains was worn as an undershirt, covered by a vest of metallic scales with a black cape attached at the shoulders, the fabric, a quilt of blackened bird feathers.
