Chapter Two
Neither of Rae’s parents said anything about the justicar’s visit the previous night, but at breakfast the next morning they broached the subject of moving once again. South this time, into the Crescent, the sliver of the Ordered World left by the Heretriarch’s incursion, generations ago. If Hammerwall was a remote backwater, the Crescent was a lawless wasteland, harboring the worst criminals and runaways living this side of the orderwall. Rae and Lalette exchanged nervous glances, but said nothing.
After breakfast, Rae made sure the clapboard door to his room was closed, then knelt beside his mattress and pried up the floorboard at the head of his bed. He fished out the tiny purse secreted there. Twelve coins, from dented copper to dully shining gold, the latter stolen from an inattentive merchant passing through Hammerwall last summer. It was all the money he had in the world. It wasn’t enough to get them out of Hammerwall, but maybe it could change things for the better. He hoped so, at least.
Lalette waited by the door. She was wearing one of her few dresses, though it was supplemented by a harness loaded down with every manner of knife and tool and chemical pouch. Rae gestured to it.
“Planning on finding work while we’re in town?”
“Whatever Harlen sells us, I plan on testing before we leave the Bastion walls. The bastard’s not going to get by with scamming us again.”
“Language!” Mother said sharply, sweeping into the room from upstairs. “You may not be dancing at the ball or attending classes at the manor house, but I will not have my daughter talking like a commoner.”
“Yeah, La. Sheesh!” Rae said with a playful tap on her arm. She glowered at him.
“Why are you coming on this trip?” she asked.
“Lalette, dear, we’re only letting him go to watch over you,” Mother said. She placed a leather satchel on the table. “The roads aren’t safe for a young lady. Even one of your temperament.”
“That’s hardly fair,” La said. “I’m just as strong as him, and twice as smart.”
“And three times as stubborn, which is why we worry you’ll fight when you should run,” Lady Kelthannis said. “Rae, see to it that that doesn’t happen, will you?”
“Of course, Mother. Run at every opportunity.” He gave the thumbs-up. “Got it.”
“Good,” she said, ignoring La’s grumbling non-response. “Now here’s some lunch, and a little something extra. A bit of coin. Get yourself something sweet. Just don’t tell your father.” She pushed the satchel into Rae’s hands, then kissed him on the cheek. “Please be back before sundown. There’s something hunting the cattle along the western ridge. Neighbor Colmes swore he saw a fae stalking through the shadows at dusk, three nights ago.”
“Neighbor Colmes sees fae in the stains from his own flop sweat,” La said.
“And what do we fear from the fae anyway?” Rae said. “This close to the orderwall it’s demons we should—”
“Anyway,” La broke in, surreptitiously twisting Rae’s arm behind his back, shutting him up and, for good measure, nearly forcing him to his knees. “We should probably get going. Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll get this one home in one piece, and without a guard escort this time.”
“I’m sure you will. And try to not give your sister any more trouble than is necessary, Raelle.”
“Only the most necessary trouble, Mom,” Rae said. Then they were outside and walking down the drive. At the end of the driveway, they turned and waved at their mother. Father was a distant dot in the field, surrounded by a cloud of dust.
The long road to Hammerwall Bastion ran through sparse trees and dusty, worn-down grasslands. The constant storm of the orderwall churned in the distance, flickering along the northern horizon, an endless reminder of the steading’s place in the eight-fold world. As far from Fulcrum as I can get, Father had said.
“I take it you weren’t able to fix the thresher last night?” Rae asked.
“There’s no fixing that machine. It’ll hold together for another week or so, but no promises after that,” La answered. “You didn’t forget the ax, did you?”
Rae patted his coat, mistakenly rattling the coins in his pocket. La’s eyebrows went up. “What are those for? Planning on taking the first ’ship out of Hammerwall?”
“And leave you guys behind? Not a chance.” Distractedly, Rae pulled the coins out and hefted them in his hand, drawing a low whistle from La. “I think I know how to bind the spirits in that sword. If I do that, it means better jobs, better money.”
“What good does that do us, if we’re on our way to the Crescent? You heard them talking about it, like it was a damned holiday.”
“Mom’s right. You shouldn’t swear so much,” Rae said. “We’re not going to the Crescent. Dad’s not much of a farmer, but he’s definitely not a criminal mastermind, or a thug. We go down there and we’ll be dead in a week. If we’re lucky.” He ran the coins around his hand one more time, then tucked them more securely into an inner pocket. “A couple real jobs for Morgan and we’ll be able to move on our own terms. Get someplace like Dah-Arret, or Veldance. Even Cubbert. Get a nice house along the lake. Steady work. Dad can go back to reading.”
“There’s a reason Dad didn’t do that in the first place, Rae. The justicars are everywhere.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if we have enough money and the right connections, the justicars will leave us alone.”
“You talk big for a guy with holes in his socks,” La said.
“One of us has to. Running ain’t working out, is it?”
“Forget swears. Go say ain’t in front of Mom, see where it gets you.”
Rae laughed and shook his head. He was about to say more when their conversation was interrupted by a windship juddering overhead, its sails crawling with static electricity. No house colors, no badge of office . . . just another merchant, come to scrape what little wealth could be found in Hammerwall and drag it back to Fulcrum. The windships came sporadically, and none of them stayed for long, out of fear of the orderwall. At any moment the wall could collapse, loosening the bonds of the material plane and sucking Hammerwall into the chaotic lands beyond. There were stories about the wastelands and what lay inside them. Rae and his family had lived ten years under that threat. It hardly kept him awake anymore, not like it had at first. You can get used to anything, he thought. Anything at all.
“Trader,” La said, her eyes following the windship as it descended toward the Bastion, just out of sight behind the trees. “Maybe there will be something interesting in the markets for once.”
“Feel free to walk around,” Rae said. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“Morgan?” La asked.
“That’s part of it. The rest . . . best you not know.”
They walked the rest of the way in amicable silence. If being this close to the orderwall had any benefit, it was that nature in Hammerwall was given free rein. The forests that lined the road to the Bastion soared higher than any tree Rae had ever seen, outside of the dead world-tree of Fulcrum itself, and the skies were abuzz with screeching birds and the fluttering of insects as big as his hand. Rae pondered on the connection between the planes of Chaos and Life. The fae of Elysium were said to hold allegiances in both Heaven and Hell. If Hammerwall were any indication, nature needed at least a little chaos to thrive.
A while later, Hammerwall Bastion came into view around the corner. Like all bastions in the Ordered World, Hammerwall was surrounded by a high wall of smooth metal that curved in on itself like an egg, open at the top. The surface of the wall was etched with the runes that commanded the spirits of the outer planes, and eight wards rose from the walls, each on its own tower. They lay dormant now, but if the steading’s orderwall failed, the wards would spin up to provide a last measure of protection against encroaching Chaos. The ward for Order loomed directly above the main gate into the city. Beyond the wall, Rae could see a single spire rising from the center of the Bastion. That was the antenna that bolstered the orderwall, projecting an aura of Order and amplifying the signal from distant Fulcrum.
They joined the shuffling line of citizens waiting to get into the Bastion. A pair of guards stood just inside the gate, dressed in dark blue uniforms, steel tri-corner helms, with long muskets hanging over their shoulders. The pair questioned everyone before they went inside, though what the guards were looking for was anyone’s guess. As Rae watched, a pair of merchants, dressed in stiff kilts and hooded collars meant to mimic the justicar’s uniform, approached the gate. They were waved through without so much as a glance.
“Gold is still the universal key,” La said. “Even out here.”
“Especially out here,” Rae said.
They reached the gate and suffered the guards’ attention. One of the guards searched Rae’s satchel, fingering the stack of dull, rectangular coins Mother had given them, casting glances at Lalette that she ignored, and that made Rae uncomfortable. Finally they were let inside, with a stern warning to “mind your manners, scrub. We won’t hesitate to transport you beyond the wall, kids or not.”
“Dicks,” La muttered as they slipped inside the gate. Rae looked nervously over his shoulder, afraid that the guards might hear, but the pair were already disassembling the belongings of the next citizen.
“And you tell me to be careful,” he said. “Those guys could ruin our day.”
“Give a couple idiots a fancy uniform and a pair of firelocks, and all of a sudden they’re Fulcrum’s own keepers,” she said. “Drives me nuts.”
The city was crowded and narrow. If the orderwall ever gave, the Bastion would be the only safe place in the steading, and the real estate reflected that. The main strip that led to the tower at the center of the city was wide enough for a wagon, but only just, and then only if you cleared out the foot traffic, overhanging walkways that ran between the buildings, and the hundred-count of vendor stalls, stoop-galleries, and impromptu drinking spots that lined the road.
Rae and Lalette pressed their way through the crowds. Their clothes got them ignored by the vendors and hassled by the passersby. Not a lot of the country folk came to the Bastion, if they could avoid it. Father rarely brought his cart to the city, preferring to hawk their meager harvest at the farm town to the east. Rae suspected that all the bound spirits bothered him, along with the slim possibility that Tren might be recognized by someone from his past life. Unlikely, given their distance from Fulcrum, and twice more unlikely because anyone involved with the Hadroy Heresy wouldn’t want to be recognized themselves. So few had escaped the destruction that followed the Heresy. But sometimes Rae would slip out and come to town on his own, whenever he could get away from chores and family, just to wander the streets. They were a pale echo of Fulcrum, or even the tiny village at the foot of Hadroy’s estate where Rae had spent his childhood, but they were all he had of those days. Better days. Days that could come again, if this works.
The streets were a riot of colors. Banners hung from half the balconies that overlooked the avenue, bearing the hammer-and-brick sigil of the Bastion, or the sacred tree of Fulcrum, or some other loyalty Rae didn’t recognize. Side streets and alleyways branched off the main line, crowded with dealers of less scrupulous goods. Many of the alleys had more than one level, with walkways built out of ramshackle scaffolding, throwing the street below into deep shadow. Some folks were already displaying their Hallowsphere icons. The wicker witches that promised good harvests and safe winters dangled from long poles overhead, turning the sky into a constellation of wooden bundles. The crowds dressed in bright cloaks and tight-fitting doublets, some with collars so high that the wearers’ faces were half-obscured. Half the crowd wore kilts, a slight nod to the justicar’s uniforms, while the other half preferred pants or long dresses that dragged along the ground. Everywhere he looked, Rae’s eyes found bright colors and fine dress. He realized he was gawping like the bumpkin everyone assumed he was, and shut his mouth with a clap.
He was so occupied with his thoughts that Rae didn’t notice his sister had stopped to look in a shop window. He bounced into her, pushing them both against the display glass, leaving face-shaped smudges behind.
“Watch it!” La said sharply.
“Well, you watch it,” Rae answered. “We’re not here for . . . for . . .” He peered into the window. “For whatever this is.”
The glass was smeared, even before the siblings got involved, but beyond the murk lay a display of beautiful fans, delicate silk painted in gold and silver. Each of the unfurled paintings showed stylized renditions of two of the eight realms, fire on one side, water on the other, or air and stone, life and death. Only Chaos was missing from the display. The Order fan depicted the golden halls of heaven on one side, and the glittering wings and burning swords of angels on the reverse.
“Mother had one of these. Do you remember?” La asked.
“Yeah. Dad gave it to her, when he passed his examinations. Just like that.” He tapped the glass, pointing to the fan painted in the blue and cream of the plane of Air. “She sold it when we left Fulcrum. To pay for our tickets. Nicer than these by a long shot.”
“Yeah. Do you think . . . ?” Lalette’s voice trailed off. “It’d make a nice gift.”
The prices were written in fading ink. Rae scanned them, then felt the stack of coins in his pocket. He had enough. More than enough. But then he wouldn’t have enough for his secret errand. Rae shook his head.
“Only if we don’t want to eat for six months,” he said. “Come on. The main market’s this way.”
Rae gave the fans a last look before following his sister. Mom deserves nice stuff like that. We all do. And if this works out, we’re going to have them, Rae thought. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get my family out of this forsaken town, even if I have to drag them out.
La pinched him again.
“You’re so serious, brother. Lighten up. Everything will be fine.”
“Yeah. It will,” he promised. Then he turned and followed her into the crowd.