Seeds of Rebellion (42 page)

“Those five leaders will decide whether the Amar Kabal will help us?” Aram checked.

“They get the final word,” Drake confirmed. “But they’re surrounded by counselors, and any member of the Amar Kabal is free to speak out on any topic. Our leaders listen to the people.”

“We need the Amar Kabal,” Galloran said. “Their women are the truest archers in Lyrian. Their men are the most proven warriors. Their commanders possess centuries of experience. And perhaps most important, if they join us, it will become much easier to recruit other nations.”

“But first they must stop clinging to their neutral status,” Corinne said.

“This is our problem,” Galloran agreed. “The inert tend to remain inert. Passivity has been the standard for so long, it will be hard to rile the seedmen to action. When last I counseled with Pallas, eldest of the Amar Kabal, he helped me arrive at my decision to try to destroy Maldor by discovering the Key Word. The hope of a simple solution was too tempting to resist. Now the situation has changed. Our only realistic option is a coordinated rebellion against the emperor. I must awaken the Amar Kabal to the reality that their neutral status will only survive as long as it works to Maldor’s advantage.”

“It will be an uphill battle,” Drake said. “Plenty among us have tried to raise the alarm.”

“I’m still formulating my strategies,” Galloran said. “But I’m in a unique position to promise outside help and to bring a fresh perspective to the discussion. And I can proclaim the Word a fraud, thereby erasing an excuse for waiting.”

Drake swallowed a hunk of bread. “You realize that if you fail, there are many among our leadership who would gladly curry favor with Felrook by handing you over.”

“I’m aware,” Galloran said.

“In which case, we’ll let Nedwin shower them with orantium,” Ferrin said glibly.

“Nedwin really saved the day,” Jason said.

The redhead looked uncomfortable with the praise. He rubbed his knuckles against his chest. “I got fortunate. I gambled by using the gatecrasher to start the rockslide. It blasted away more of the cliff than I could have expected. I threw the globe far, and it fell a fair distance before detonating, but I still barely hung on as the mountain quaked. I may have wasted some of the subsequent
globes I threw. A dust cloud hid the bottom of the gorge.”

“You gave the guards here a new chore,” Drake said. “It will take some time to clear that much rubble. But I’m sure they’ll find a use for the stone. We tend to be resourceful that way.”

Jason sampled a dark-green fruit topped by a tuft of silky white strands. The tiny fruit tasted sweeter than pure sugar, making him cough in surprise. “What is this?”

Several around the table chuckled. Ferrin grinned. “Qualines are only meant for use as a sweetener.”

Jason licked at a bit of the fruit lodged between his teeth. The pulpy fragment continued to secrete sweetness until it came loose, and he swallowed it.

“You used to come here often?” Aram asked Galloran.

“I have visited this realm three times before,” Galloran said. “Once I remained for a couple of months. My other stays were shorter.”

“Are the Seven Vales big?” Rachel wondered.

“Bigger than an outsider would suppose,” Drake said. “The seven main valleys include Broadvale, Crookvale, Longvale, Midvale, Roundvale, Deepvale, and Farvale. There are a score of smaller offshoots from the main valleys, along with several other disconnected vales, higher in the mountains.”

Galloran dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “Tomorrow we will travel to Longvale, where the Conclave convenes. The journey will consume most of the day.”

“And no meat in sight,” Aram grumbled. “What’s wrong with these people? Those seeds have corrupted their good sense.”

“Didn’t you hear what Ferrin said about the delicious cucumbers?” Jason teased.

“I kept my legs moving today with the thought of a hearty roast at the end of the road,” Aram sulked.

“I cannot believe you’re going on like this in front of the cucumbers,” Corinne chided, taking a deliberate bite of the vegetable and sharing a glance with Jason.

“Corinne, was that a joke?” Ferrin said in mock astonishment. “Welcome to the conversation!”

She flushed shyly.

“If we can expect another journey tomorrow, we should secure horses,” Ferrin went on. “And if the sun will be shining, perhaps a goat for Aram.”

“Keep it up,” Aram dared him through clenched teeth.

“Is a goat too large and unruly?” Ferrin asked. “Maybe we could saddle a raccoon.”

“Odd how these taunts tend to fade after sundown,” Aram growled, taking a large bite of bread.

“But a new day always dawns,” Ferrin replied. “And we can all use some entertainment.”

Aram glowered. “Then perhaps tonight I should pull you apart and let the others puzzle you back together.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ferrin applauded. “Taunt back! I get the sense you’ve seldom had to deal with ridicule.”

Aram appeared to be resisting a pleased little smile.

“Halak offered us accommodations for the night,” Galloran said. “I suggest we claim some well-earned rest.”

“Should I check on Tark?” Jason asked.

“He’s in good hands,” Galloran said. “And almost certainly unconscious. We’ll pay him a visit in the morning.”

Everyone stood. Jason stretched. Nedwin staggered, steadied himself, lowered his brow, rubbed his chest, then tipped forward onto the table. He landed without making any effort to stop his fall, his body crushing woven baskets, his face upsetting a wooden bowl of diced fruit slathered with cream.

“What happened?” Galloran asked.

“Nedwin fainted,” Rachel said.

Ferrin and Drake were already rolling him off the table and onto the floor.

“Blast!” Galloran exclaimed. “Check his mouth.”

Drake was already wiping cream from Nedwin’s slack face and pulling his jaws apart. “Advanced lungrot,” Drake reported, eyes squinting in disgust. “Worse than Tark.”

“I should have known,” Galloran muttered. “Somebody fetch Halak. We’ll need to get Nedwin immediate treatment. Is he breathing?”

“Barely,” Drake said.

“Watch him,” Galloran said as Corinne and Aram hurried from the room. “He can’t feel pain or many types of discomfort. He probably knew something was wrong, but failed to appreciate the severity. Or maybe he was just being stubborn.”

“How could he not feel it?” Drake said. “The disease has almost taken him.”

“He was a prisoner at Felrook for years,” Jason said. “They experimented on him with pain enhancers. It left him permanently numbed.”

A pair of seedmen rushed into the room. One quickly checked Nedwin’s mouth and grimaced in revulsion. They picked him up, one supporting him under the shoulders, one by the legs.

“We’ll rush him to the sicktent prepared for your comrade,” one of the seedmen assured them.

As they exited the room with Nedwin, Corinne entered. “Aram is still looking for Halak. The guards we found seemed helpful.”

“You did well,” Galloran said. “Let’s hope the treatment isn’t too late.”

After breakfasting on hot cereal the following morning, Jason accompanied Galloran to visit Tark and Nedwin. An unsociable man in leather armor directed them toward the gate. Unrushed, Jason got a better look at the people. They were mostly tall and serious, wearing light armor, if any. There was a tendency toward dark hair and light eyes. Some wore the unrolled portion of their hair in braids, while others let it hang free.

A few people nodded at Jason. Most went about their business: unloading provisions from a wagon, adjusting the mechanisms of a huge catapult, standing watch on the wall or on the crenellated balconies projecting from the mountainside. No one approached Jason or Galloran to make conversation.

“Why didn’t we ever hear Nedwin coughing?” Jason wondered.

“I doubt he ever felt the urge,” Galloran said. “Felrook left his senses damaged. He must have noticed a shortness of breath, but Nedwin is the sort to silently push through such inconveniences.”

Not far from the gate, they found a small, domed tent of stitched animal hides. A flap on the tent lifted as a skinny middle-aged woman emerged, along with a billow of fumes.

“Is Tark inside?” Jason asked.

She blinked repeatedly, wringing tears from her red-rimmed eyes. “Nedwin as well. Both should recover.” She spoke with a heavy accent, slurring her words. “Nedwin’s fate remained questionable until after the moon set. Tark should be able to quit the treatment by tonight, Nedwin by the next day. The wounds to Tark’s head were superficial. For both men, the lungrot is in full reversal.”

“May we go inside?” Galloran asked.

“If you like.” She smiled, showing small teeth. “You might consider holding your breath.”

“Are they contagious?” Jason asked.

Galloran shook his head. “The treatment is unpleasant.”

Jason raised the flap and followed Galloran into the tent, ducking through the entrance. The low ceiling forced them to remain crouched. Tark and Nedwin lay on mats spread across wooden pallets that took up most of the floor space. Jason and Galloran squatted between them. Pungent vapors swirled up from clay vessels. Tark leaned up on one elbow and smiled, both of his eyes horribly bloodshot. “Kind of you to remember me,” he said before launching into a fit of coughing. He hawked up phlegm and spat into a pail.

“Good to hear you coughing again,” Galloran said.

“I feel loads better,” Tark agreed. “My eyes sting, though. And my mouth feels packed with cotton.” He fingered his chapped lips.

Nedwin remained on his side, his breath quick and shallow, his eyes closed.

“You should be back on your feet by tomorrow night,” Galloran said.

“So they tell me.”

“We ride to Longvale today. I have preparations to make. A guide will bring you and Nedwin to us once you’re both whole. Obey whatever instructions your caregiver offers.”

“You wouldn’t believe some of the remedies I’ve had to drink,” Tark confided with a shudder.

Galloran scratched his beard. “I would. I was treated for lungrot here myself once. Do yourself the kindness of not inquiring about the ingredients.”

Tark grimaced. “The treatment almost seems more violent than the ailment.” He coughed again.

“Such is the price one must pay to evict airborne parasites. Has Nedwin awakened?”

“Several times,” Tark said. “He’s been in and out all morning.”

Galloran touched Nedwin’s shoulder. The freckled man sat up, red eyes blinking. “Sire, am I needed?”

“I just came to bid you adieu,” Galloran said. “I’m overjoyed to hear you will recover.”

“It will take more than fungi to vanquish me, sire.”

“I believe it. You appear to be in competent hands. Farewell until we meet again in Longvale.”

“Hope you feel better,” Jason gasped. Since his first inhalation inside the tent, he had struggled to limit his breathing. Every whiff of the potent vapors made his eyes burn and the lining of his mouth tingle uncomfortably.

While Tark croaked a reply, Jason stooped out of the tent. Gulping fresh air, he held the flap aside for Galloran. The brief exposure to the heady atmosphere already had his legs feeling unsteady. He wiped tears from his cheeks.

“Back to the others?”

Galloran nodded.

Half an hour later, Jason and his companions rode down the pass on borrowed mounts into Broadvale. The expansive valley was sectioned into a patchwork of farmland nourished by an extensive irrigation system. Crops even flourished on the terraced slopes enclosing the valley, the tiered plots buttressed by retaining walls.

Cornstalks overburdened with ears rose higher than Jason as he sat astride his horse. Workers labored amid countless acres of wheat, binding the harvest into golden sheaves. Fragrant trees were assembled in long rows, limbs laden with bounteous fruitage. One field contained white pumpkins the size of Volkswagen Beetles, and huge yellow squashes contorted like bizarre, bloated sculptures.

Most of the buildings Jason observed were squat dwellings roofed with floral gardens. He also identified several windowless
storage facilities. Beside a waterfall on the near side of the valley stood an enormous structure connected to a massive waterwheel.

Jason wondered if he had ever felt this refreshed. Yesterday, death had only been a few minutes behind them. Today they rode at a leisurely pace through the safest nation in Lyrian. The mat he had slept on had not been soft, but it had done the job. He had slumbered long and deep.

Beneath the warm sun, the group traversed the fertile valley at a relaxed pace. They passed a field smothered by tangled, leafy vines.

“What crop is that?” Jason asked.

“Describe it,” Galloran said.

“A bunch of vines that look like they belong in a jungle.”

“Those are kathoras, the most essential of all crops here. The fruit draws impurities from the soil. The vines hoard nutrients. Once the vines mature, the fruit is discarded, and the rest is plowed into the soil. Humankind has yet to discover a superior fertilizer.”