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rest of us, we live our lives out in filth and misery to support you.
Am I being lumped into this?
I honestly don t know at times, Master.
And the fighters of the Grand Master, Hammen continued, they re even worse.
They get recruited into his service and stay in his direct employ for the rest
of their lives. They re there for one reason only, to offset the mob, the
rival princes, and the other Houses. They re even worse than the leeches of
the
Houses. They re parasites that eat us alive from the inside out. At least
the House fighters have only recently been corrupted; there was a time when
they did do service to the people. But those serving the
Grand Master, they re lower than snake crap in a wagon rut.
Garth, chuckling softly over Hammen s rage, stopped for a moment at a fruit
merchant s stall and came back with two pomegranates, tossing one to Hammen,
and he continued on. As he ate the delicacy with relish he made sure that his
cowl still concealed his face so that he looked almost like a holy dervish of
the Muronian order. The Muronians made their livelihood by passing out tracts
promising that the entire universe was doomed and generally annoying the rest
of the world so that some people wished it would end just to get rid of them.
Several city warriors slowed as they approached Garth, as if they recognized
him. He reached into his pocket as if to pull out a tract and they quickly
hurried on.
I like this disguise, Garth said.
I still think you re crazy to be out and about like this. Better to stay in
the House. I m willing to bet everything we ve won so far that Varena would
be happy to join you in bed tonight.
I want to see some things, Garth said absently as he tossed aside the ends
of the pomegranate.
Up the street a trumpet sounded and the crowd gave way as a line of horsemen
came down the thoroughfare, swinging to either side with their riding crops to
clear a path. Behind them came some petty princeling, who looked out from his
carriage window with haughty disdain. As he drew past
Hammen let fly with the remains of his pomegranate, catching the prince on the
nose.
There was a howl of protest and the horsemen circled back. Hammen, laughing,
pushed his way back to the side of the street. The princeling stuck his head
out of the carriage, roaring obscenities in a high, cracking voice. Within
seconds the carriage was pelted with offal and whatever else was handy and the
guards lashed the horses of the carriage forward so that it continued up the
street.
The incident left the crowd in a good mood as they soundly cursed all
nobility.
* * *
Talk about trying not to draw attention, Garth hissed.
See, it s right there, Hammen laughed. They hate the bastards but they
don t even realize that by worshiping the fighters they in fact prop them up.
I understand there was a time when the Houses weren t that bad, Garth said
quietly.
Ah, the legendary golden age, silver age, or whatever it is people want to
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call it. Memories of history are usually bunk it was never better before, and
it won t be better tomorrow.
An optimist.
All right. Yes, it might have been better. Before the last Grand Master.
When there was still the fifth
House, Oor-tael, which used more of the mana of the islands and the forest.
Fighters of that House were obligated to give part of their time in service to
those not of the merchant and noble classes. They had to go on pilgrimage, to
wander as part of their journeyman and master s training, and help the poor
with their skills. Even after obtaining the highest rank, every third year
they were expected to do this.
And the other Houses finally came to hate them for it.
Is that the only reason?
I don t know, I was only a . . . Hammen paused. You know the old
injunction still stands.
And that is?
A death sentence on any who wore Turquoise, be they fighter, warrior,
mistress, and he paused even the lowest of servants. It also applies to any
who even talk of it or suspect another of being of the order and do not report
it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
