Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (26 page)

"Father, this
man has paid good money for lodgings and a meal." She held out the
two silver coins.

The man took
the money and measured Kieran with his eyes. "Well, one of the
non-existent middle class, I take it? You look like a mercenary,
lad. You should be able to afford an inn."

"I'm not a
mercenary. I'm on a quest, and have little money," Kieran
replied.

The man's wife
dished up from both pots, and he shot her a look of regret as he
moved away. "I'm sure we can put you up for the night and give you
a good meal. Not involved in anything unpleasant, are you?"

The Prince
smiled. "If I was, I'd be able to afford an inn."

"True, true."
The man wiped his hand on his apron and held it out. "I'm Boras,
this is my wife, Visha, and my sons, Chavas, Peran and Jaevu.
You've met my daughter, Shara."

Kieran shook
Boras' hand and bowed to the rest of the family. "I'm Kieran."

"Well, our
work here is nearly done, then we can entertain you."

The queue of
beggars had dwindled to a few, and Boras went back to his ladling
until the last had passed by and gone to a mat to eat and sleep.
Boras ordered the door closed, and the youngest boy, Jaevu, locked
it. The family led the way through a door at the back, which opened
into a small, but well-furnished house. Boras locked the door
behind them, and Visha went over to some more pots that bubbled on
a wood stove.

Boras
explained, "The beggars will wash the pots in the morning before
they leave. We have to lock them in so they're not tempted to
steal, you see."

Kieran nodded,
and Boras guided him to the well-scrubbed kitchen table in the
middle of the room, where he sat and soaked up the warmth of a fire
that roared in the grate. Six sturdy chairs surrounded the table,
and a sink in the far corner held a pile of dirty dishes and pots.
A fresh coat of yellow paint brightened the walls, and pale wooden
cupboards lined two of them. All the members of this family had
their chores, and set to them with a will. The two older boys went
out to bring in more firewood, Shara washed plates and Jaevu tended
the fire. Boras poured two mugs of mead and settled opposite
Kieran.

"Well, you
must have a story to tell, I would guess."

"I do, but
that would take all night. I'm searching for a stone relic that
fell somewhere in this city. Have you heard of such a thing?"

Boras
pondered, eyeing the Prince. "What if I have?"

"I must find
it, it's important." Kieran hesitated. "To the whole world."

"The world,
eh?" Boras looked around at his wife, who shrugged and went on
stirring her pots. "How's that?"

Kieran sipped
his mead. "Before I tell you, I'd like to ask you how you feel
about the new order that has come about in recent times."

Boras' eyes
narrowed. "To speak against it is treason."

"I'm from a
faraway land."

"Well then,
I'll tell you I don't approve. What's happening in this city is
wrong, but others who spoke out against it were forced to leave. I
stayed silent, and I do what I can for the needy."

Kieran nodded.
"A worthy cause. It seems that fate has led me to the right door.
From what you've told me, if I was to tell this to anyone else, I
would probably end up on the gallows."

Boras snorted.
"Far worse than that. If you speak treason in this city, you're
taken to feed Queen Larina's black army."

"They eat
people?" Kieran recoiled in shock.

"Not exactly.
Go one with your tale, young man."

The Prince
paused to gather his thoughts and decide how best to begin. Finally
he asked, "Do you remember a day, over a year ago now, when golden
lights appeared in the sky?"

Boras
chuckled. "Who could forget it? The city was in an uproar about it.
Most people thought it was the end of the world. The news singers
sang about nothing else for weeks. Every crackpot and his
apprentice had a theory about those lights. Prophets of doom."

"It was the
end of the world." Kieran lifted his mug of mead and sipped from
it, aware that he now had the attention of everyone in the
room.

Boras leant
forward. "What do you mean? The world hasn't ended."

"Not yet. That
was the beginning of the end. That was the day the Staff of Law was
broken."

"The Staff of
Law?" Shara turned from the sink. "What's that?"

"That was what
kept the world in order and prevented the abominations that are
happening now."

"The
crossbreeding?" Boras asked.

Kieran nodded.
"And the wizards, the strange beasts, the land's dying, and many
other things that haven't happened yet."

Visha left her
pots and sank into a chair, staring at Kieran. "The golden light
fell like dust. Many people tried to catch it, thinking it was real
gold, but it vanished."

"Those were
the laws."

"So how long
will it take, for everything to fall apart?" Boras asked.

"Unless we can
restore the staff, about a hundred years. But the world will cease
to be worth living in long before then."

Boras sat
back, shook his head and glanced around at his family. "What has
this to do with the stone relic you seek?"

"When the
staff was broken, it shattered into five pieces. One of those
pieces fell here, in this city. That's the piece of stone I
seek."

"And if you
find this piece of stone, you can restore the laws?"

"Perhaps.
There are still another two pieces missing, and we have to find
them all."

Boras pulled
out a pipe and filled it, his expression solemn and pensive. Visha
rose and went to tend to her cooking, the others remained intent.
Boras fumbled with his tobacco. "The stone you seek fell through
the roof of a peasant's house in the lower quarter. He took it to
the priests, and they took it to the Queen. It's in her castle
now."

Kieran smiled.
"Good, I'll go there tomorrow and get it."

Boras gave a
bark of laughter. "What, do you think you can just walk in there
and take it?"

Shara giggled,
the boys tittered, and even Visha smiled. Kieran glanced around,
embarrassed and slightly annoyed. "Is it guarded?"

"Guarded?"
Boras laughed again. "Forgive me, but you're quite obviously a
stranger to this city."

"I said I
was."

Boras lighted
his pipe, puffing it. "When it was taken to Queen Larina, she
declared that it was a magical symbol, a blessing from the gods.
The peasant who found it was beheaded for having the temerity to
have found it in his house when quite obviously it should have
fallen in her palace. The priest was sworn to secrecy, but that
didn't last long. He sold the story to the Guild of News Singers
for a vast price, then fled the city. Some say the Queen hunted him
down, others say he escaped."

Boras
shrugged. "Whatever happened to him, I don't much care, but the
Sacred Stone of Good Fortune is indeed guarded, day and night. It
resides in a tower within the black army's courtyard, the same ones
who demand Trueman sacrifices."

"The men of
this army, what do they look like?"

"Every part of
them is black, and their horses. Their eyes glow with a foul yellow
light."

"The Torrak
Jahar." Kieran leant back, frowning. "They did come here."

"I've never
heard them called that."

"You remember
the Hashon Jahar?"

"We heard
stories, but they never came here."

Kieran nodded.
"They didn't get this far, no. The Ghost Riders are the same, only
worse. How many of them are there?"

"No one's
sure. The streets are cleared when they ride through, but some have
said that there are over a thousand of them."

The Prince
sipped his mead while he considered this, and the family eyed him
with varying degrees of doubt, awe and scepticism. Boras made a
curt gesture to his children, sending them back to their
chores.

After several
minutes Kieran asked, "How large is this stone?"

"About five
hand spans or more. It takes two men to lift it."

The Prince
looked glum, staring at the bottom of his empty mug. Shara came
over and refilled it without him noticing.

Boras added,
"They say that one end is smooth, like glass, the other is
broken."

Kieran nodded.
"That's where it was cut in two."

"You said
five."

"Yes, when it
was cut in two it broke into five pieces."

"You seem to
know a lot about it," Boras commented.

Kieran did not
wish to relate that tale, and asked instead, "How often do the
Torrak Jahar leave the city, and who guards the stone when they're
gone?"

"Not often.
The Queen likes to have them here. When they do leave, four or five
remain to guard the stone."

"Four," Kieran
said without thinking. "What makes her order them out?"

Boras
shrugged, refilling his mug. "Sometimes she sends them to conquer
new lands, other times to fight the manants or quell rebels. But it
makes no difference whether there are four or a thousand, they are
invincible."

"Not quite.
They wouldn't be able to fight very well without heads."

"They're made
of stone."

"I know."

Boras frowned.
"Are you an earth wizard?"

"No. That's
forbidden." Kieran paused, thinking. "Would she part with it, do
you think?"

"Sell it?"
Boras shook his head. "She said it would bring prosperity, and it
did. She would never let it go."

"It doesn't
bring anything. It's just a piece of stone until it can be put back
together again. It has no power."

Boras rubbed
his chin and sucked his pipe, discovered that it had gone out and
rose to fetch more tobacco. Visha waved her ladle at him, and he
put the pipe away and returned to the table as Shara laid out bowls
and baskets of bread. Jaevu set out spoons next to the bowls, and
Visha put a bubbling pot on the table. As the family sat down amid
much scraping of chairs, Kieran became aware that the meal was
about to begin. Putting aside his thoughts, he ladled stew into his
bowl first, as a guest should. Kieran sampled the food and found it
excellent, complimenting Visha, who smiled.

"My daughter
makes a better pot than I, sir."

Aware of the
hidden meaning in this statement, Kieran concentrated on his
food.

Boras
chuckled. "Take no notice, Visha has been trying to marry Shara off
for years, but the girl won't have it."

"Father!"
Shara protested. "There are no decent men in this city. They're all
corrupt or married, or both."

"This is
true," Boras admitted. "Are you married, Kieran?"

"No, but I'm a
wanderer, not a marriage prospect."

"I'd like to
travel," Shara said, and Jaevu giggled. His sister poked him hard
enough to make him grunt.

Boras ignored
his children's scuffle and regarded Kieran with calculating eyes.
"Who sent you on this quest, may I ask?"

The Prince
contemplated the steaming stew in his spoon. "Let me ask you a
question before I answer that."

"Ask."

"How do you
feel about Mujar?"

Boras' brows
rose. "A strange question. We had one here, oh, about forty years
ago now. I was just a boy. He lived in the poor quarter. The people
there fed him and cared for him, and sometimes he healed them in
return. But when the Queen found out, she took him away and threw
him in a Pit, I suppose. I saw him many times, sitting in the sun,
clad in rags. A gentle, harmless creature. I have nothing against
them, personally, and my family have never seen one."

"But you don't
like what's going on now."

"No. None of
us do. It's evil."

Kieran nodded,
satisfied. During the course of the meal, he told them about Talsy
and Chanter, the chosen and the gathering, all of which had fallen
by the wayside with the staff's destruction. The family's food grew
cold as its members listened with rapt attention, remembering only
periodically to eat. When his tale was finished, Boras summed it
up.

"So you've
been sent here by this girl, the First Chosen, and a Mujar, to find
this piece of the staff."

"Yes."

Boras shook
his head. "Forgive my scepticism, but it sounds a pretty tall tale.
Do you have any proof?"

Kieran
considered this while Visha and the children gathered the empty
bowls to be washed, dried and stowed away in cupboards. Boras
filled his pipe again.

"Do you know
what a Mujar mark looks like?" Kieran asked.

"No."

Kieran
slumped. "Then I don't know how to convince you."

Boras leant
forward, his eyes bright. "Take me to this Mujar."

Kieran shook
his head. "Just as you mistrust me, I don't trust you. We've only
just met. You could be a cunning spy for your Queen, and this could
be a trap."

Visha giggled,
and Boras smiled. "You're right, although you've already told me
plenty. If I was the Queen's spy, I could hand you over to her
torturers. They'd get the rest out of you."

"No, they
wouldn't."

"All right."
Boras sighed. "Show me what you have. Obviously you have something
with this Mujar mark on it. Even though I don't know what a Mujar
mark looks like, perhaps you can convince me if it's unusual."

Kieran
regarded him with flat eyes. "Why should I convince you, anyway?
What would it gain me?"

"Maybe, just
maybe, I can help you get your stone."

"How?"

Boras shook
his head. "Convince me first."

"Very well."
Kieran swept aside his cloak to reveal the hilt of his sword, his
hand going to it.

Boras tensed.
"Doing me an injury won't convince me, lad."

The Prince
smiled and drew the Starsword with a soft slither of metal. The
ebon blade with its shimmer of stars emerged from the scabbard
before the family's astounded eyes. Kieran laid it flat on the
table. "This was made by a Mujar. That cross and circle is the
Mujar mark, there on the blade. Don't stare into it."