Chapter 76: Company Kept

Chapter 76: Company Kept

The mockingbird was riding atop the boars haunches one day, talking of unimportant things, when it spied the raven sitting solitary on a branch. It flew up to greet the raven, wishing it a good morning.

The raven returned the greeting, but said nothing more.

This irritated the mockingbird, who had hoped for conversation. He scolded the raven for being unfriendly, and said such a practice would see him alone and friendless.

At this, the raven turned to set his eye on the mockingbird. He said that the mark of a friend was not what was said in greeting or passing, nor in any words said to ones face. Those with limited sight may count themselves rich in friends, and only discover their poverty when need arose.

Those with true sight saw the words whispered in shadows, and acts done in secret. Why else do wise men discard all but their robe and bowl? True friendship did not change with distance or company.

The mockingbird wished the raven a good morning all the same, and flew back to the boar that it might speak further of unimportant things.

- Pre-Gharic Ardan manuscript, vellum, c. 500 PE

The central square of Imes had been strewn with debris and the wreckage of Mendiko tanks when Michael last saw it, any clear space given over to command and medical tents set up for one of the forward staging areas. The tents were gone, now, the shell craters graded over with dry sandy soil and the burnt hulks towed aside. At the north end of the plaza sat the old town hall, a stately building that had weathered the citys siege with only a few visible scars; it was missing a front column from the facade, and the left side of its steps had was a rubble-strewn slope.

That much had not changed since Michael had made his weary way back and forth through the square during rescue operations. Now, though, the broken facade was obscured by a riot of banners in green and white, the front steps repaired with rough wood planks - and the entirety of the plaza filled with people, stretching all the way to the still-empty storefronts and apartments ringing the perimeter. They pressed in close, the noise of their conversation making a cheery roar that gave voice to the joy Michael felt in waves, the beating of a massive heart that pulsed through the crowd more strongly with every passing moment.

It was not a unanimous joy, of course. Too many were missing, whether dead or departed for Saf. There were those who harbored some disquiet about the transition away from stable Safid rule to whatever this new Daressa might bring. Those sorrows formed a basso counterpoint to the joy, but in harmony rather than dissonance. It was the celebration of an ending as well as a beginning. It was where Michael felt a disconnect from the crowd; he had only seen the ascent, and not the tortuous journey in the intervening decades under oppression and conflict.

It was one of the reasons that he was not on the stage. Sobriquet had argued for it, more strongly than Michael expected - but at the end of the day he was an Ardan, and his future lay with Mendian. There was only one person fit to stand before the crowd, to mark the end of the revolution that had become synonymous with her name. She stood back from the empty podium with a sheaf of notes in her hand. The stage was far from empty besides Sobriquet; Emil was there, as were a selection of regional partisan leaders. They had found the old mayor of Imes, now an elderly man who seemed barely awake, as well as a few other dregs of the old government that had survived in boltholes or quiet farms in the country.

Amid them all, Sobriquet looked utterly alone. Michael brought his sight close to her, watched her mutter the words from her notes over and over. The pages shook.

Michael breathed in, inhaling the fevered excitement of the crowd, their inchoate happiness - their love, to which he added a not-inconsiderable amount of his own. Gently, he let Spark touch Sobriquet; the barest whisper of the feeling, surrounding her in gentle warmth. Her head came up sharply to look at him; Michael smiled.

You could say anything at all, he murmured, and we will love you.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

He saw the corners of her lips turn up, even as she dropped her eyes back down to her notes. Her lips formed muttered words: stop distracting me, you meddling aristocrat. Michael laughed and let the emotion drop away, leaning back in his seat to let the crowd wash over him. It was intoxicating. The memories of grim and quiet Imes were forced to step aside, to make room for this vibrant and tumultuous city, bristling with cheer and song.

The great clock in the square began to toll the hour. There was general applause, though Michael knew that the clock was still in a shambles from the fighting; for the ceremony, Charles had climbed the tower to pummel its great bell with a bit of metal. As the last peal faded away, Sobriquet stepped forward.

The crowd quieted. She stood before the podium, placing her notes on it - then shook her head, another smile touching her lips as she stepped past the podium with her eyes closed. The crowd gasped as an image of Sobriquet materialized in the air over the steps, mirroring her pose. She opened her eyes and smiled; a roar of approval came back.

Daressa! she shouted, her voice a booming resonance that would have likely collapsed buildings were it anything more than an illusion; the crowds responding roar was enough to shake dust from the crumbled stone around them. The cheering slowly tapered away, as she raised her arm for quiet.

It wasnt long ago that reclaiming Imes was only a distant dream, she said. And now here we stand, in the capital of free Daressa once more! More cheers, though she kept speaking even as the noise redoubled. Free from occupiers and oppressors! Free from theft, murder and terror! Free from the War!

The crowd reached a crescendo, though a shadow crossed Sobriquets face; many in the crowd noticed it too. The quiet that came next was total. When she spoke again, it was softer, closer to her normal voice.

And we find ourselves in charge of our own destiny at last, she said. After the struggle and sacrifice each one of us has endured, now we face a far harder task - to set aside the past, and walk forward into the future. She paused, letting the last words linger in the air between them.

The Daressa of Safid and Ardan occupation has been our world. It has been my entire life. And we have - all of us - done and seen things that are best left in that world. We must etch a line into the flow of history. Who we were as partisans, as warriors and saboteurs so fierce that the largest armies in the world had no hope of keeping us down - these people must remain in the past, so that this new Daressa might be a country where law holds sway instead of force and terror.

She pressed her lips together. So I will discharge my duty to you all, she said. And draw that line. I have assembled a committee of those who have worked the hardest to make this country anew, those with the talent and skill to walk in both worlds. This Transitional Committee will be charged with one task: to assemble a government of citizens, selected by citizens.

Murmurs erupted from the crowd. Confusion predominated; Sobriquet raised her hand again for quiet. Daressa was not preserved by those who fought against its occupiers, although our work was needed. It was the Daressan people who kept the flame lit, who struggled onward to live their lives as best they could, to secure food, shelter and safety for their children - to carry on.

She paused, looking down, then raised her head again. We worked to give this back to you, she said. And with order, with deliberation, and the support and guidance of all who helped us to stand here today - we shall. She stepped backward, her image fading away. In that spirit, I am proud to introduce to you the chairman of the Transitional Committee - Emil Souris.

Emil stepped forward to applause, although it was scattered and quiet compared to what had come before. He stepped before the podium, placed his notes upon it, and looked up at the assembled crowd.

You dont know me, he said, his voice ringing out with Sobriquets assistance. You dont need to. My job is to replace myself and my comrades with skilled, competent experts in administration, economics, law and culture. If you think Ive just described you or someone you know, please submit your names and a short summary of your relevant expertise at the Committee headquarters here in Imes. He pointed to the building behind him. This is the headquarters.

Some scattered laughter broke out, causing Emil to furrow his brow; the audience was mostly bemused by the difference in tone between the two speakers, though some were tickled or troubled by the absurdity of the shift. He waved irritably for quiet and continued to speak, but a voice from behind him drew Michaels attention away.

An efficient public speaker, Antolin chuckled, walking up to stand at his side. Perhaps Mendian could take some lessons.

Michael turned to reply, but his answering quip died unsaid; Antolin was not alone. Rather than his normal accompaniment of aides and officers, the grand marshal had brought a small group of Mendiko that were dressed in well-made civilian clothes.

In lieu of his comment, Michael gave Antolin a questioning look; he answered his own question a moment later when he looked again at the man standing nearest to them. It had taken a moment for Michael to place the thin, bald man with his closely-trimmed goatee.

He had never seen Xabier Lekubarri outside of the Batzar, after all.

Michaels eyes flitted back to Antolin, though his sight lingered on Lekubarri; the man gave away no strong sign of emotion that Michaels eyes or soul could sense, watching Emil speak with a faint smile on his lips.

Is that why the Batzar is in attendance? Michael asked. It seems a long way to travel for such a small thing.

At the mention of the Batzar, Lekubarris eyes turned to Michael. His smile grew wider, and he took a few paces forward. Jaun Baumgart, he said, inclining his head slightly and switching to precise, unaccented Gharic. Ive heard so much about you in the dispatches. Its a pleasure to speak with you in person.

Jaun Lekubarri, Michael replied, borrowing the Mendiko honorific. Something about the mans speech resurfaced old memories of his father at social events, an empty mask with a smile drawn crudely on its face. Michael donned his own. Your name reaches my ears rather often as well. Are you in Imes to attend the ceremony, or did you have other business?

Lekubarri waggled his hand. I felt it was important to attend the ceremony marking the end of the War, of course, he said. It was purchased with no small number of Mendiko dead. Leire would not want me to count her as chief among them, but I struggle to diminish the significance of her loss; her death in particular is another reason for my presence here.

I had heard something to that effect, Michael replied. Coordinating the search for the Star of Mendian?

Youre well-informed, Lekubarri said, smiling. A positive trait in any leader. I see that my friends confidence in you was justified. With any luck, we should be able to find your wayward comrade and send her soul to you before the year is out.

Michael nodded. An aggressive timeline, he said. But then again, youre practiced at this sort of thing.

Lekubarri laughed, waving off the comment. Weve had our operatives training hard over the years, certainly, he said. But there hasnt been a need to retrieve the Star of Mendian from outside of our borders in nearly a century. I expect there will be some stumbles along the way, just as I expect those stumbles to resolve in our favor. The timetable takes that into account.

People sang. His sight found Sobriquet, her eyes bright with tears. Charles, alone and bawling atop the bell tower. Vernon, a look of absolute serenity on his face as he drew the bow of his cello in smooth, gliding rhythm. Emil was the only partisan of their group to join in the song, rough and tone-deaf.

Then it was done. Some tried to sing a refrain, others devolved into wordless cheers; most of the people simply dispersed from the square to drink, to eat, to be with family - to live, in Daressa.

Michaels own celebration had not strayed far from the ordinary; he woke early the following morning, disengaging from his covers and kissing Sobriquet on the forehead before setting off towards the airships mess. The long metal halls felt deserted, over-quiet. Only a few airmen were eating when he arrived.

Vernon was not among them. He had elected to stay with Emil as part of the Transitional Committee, and had made his goodbyes before Michael and Sobriquet left the celebration. The food was bland and unsatisfying; Michael abandoned it and returned to his quarters.

A short time later he set out with Sobriquet, departing the airship with nothing but a light pack. He had managed to accrue a surprising amount of notional possessions during his brief stay aboard. They remained aboard save for a change of clothing and his favorite canteen.

They walked through the streets of Imes until they reached a certain cafe, of little note save that it was operating despite the sorry state of the towns infrastructure. The chairs and tables were mismatched or cast roughly by an artifex, the windows were shattered and the kitchen stood open to the sky courtesy of a half-collapsed upper storey; nevertheless, Michael smelled coffee and some variety of cooking meat.

It felt better than the sterile confines of the mess. There was texture and color in the broken street, a feel that fit the moment. A small breakfast came and went. Michael sipped at his coffee and waited; they were early, after all. Midway through his third cup, Sobriquet sat upright.

Michael turned and saw Unai walking briskly down the street, which was expected. Zabala walked on his heels, which was not. The two men approached the table and sat.

Good morning, Michael said, lifting his eyebrow at Zabala. I didnt think Id see you here. Werent you shipping back to Estu?

Ive been summarily discharged, Zabala said. Something about rank insubordination, youd have to ask Antolin for the details. Hes confident that time will reveal it to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding. For the moment, though, Im looking for employment.

Convenient timing, that, Sobriquet noted. I suppose we do need a liason for the peacekeeping force as well as Lekubarris thugs.

I doubt they shall bother us overmuch, Unai said, nodding pleasantly to the waitress as she brought coffee for the two new arrivals. Our presence in your group should help to resolve any issues before they become noteworthy.

One can hope, Michael sighed. Has there been any word from the northwest?

Zabala shook his head. Were monitoring for reports of fire or illness, but theres enough of that amid the evacuation to thoroughly confuse the issue. Well need to be there on the ground to investigate and verify. Fortunately, the motor pool has lost four trucks; we should be able to return them to a convenient forward base of our choosing.

Four? Michael frowned. Im not sure that will be enough. The Ardan soldiers were most of a battalion, last I checked.

Now theyre most of a company, Zabala said. Their unit cohesion was minimal at best, Im surprised your idiot captain convinced that many to sign on. He turned, looking down the street. Wasnt he supposed to be here as well?

Oh, hes coming, Sobriquet snorted. As is Charles. Theyre just slightly delayed from yesterdays events. Give it a few moments. She nodded towards an alleyway.

The three men turned to look; after a short pause Charles and Lars emerged into the street, staggering drunk. Each had his arm across the other for support, making for a shambling, raucous approach.

Zabala lifted an eyebrow. Ive changed my mind, he deadpanned. Id like to return to the military after all.

Unai chuckled and rose from his seat to drag over two additional chairs, then walked to intercept the approaching men; he drew his glove off and slapped both of them lightly across the face.

They recoiled, first in shock, then in sudden, horrified sobriety. Unai wiped his hand on his trousers and put his glove back on, taking his seat wordlessly.

Michael watched with interest as the two men promptly vomited into the street. I didnt know anatomentes could do that, he said.

An old soldiers trick, Unai said. Theyre not actually sober, but theyll feel that way for a spell. Best to conclude our business early, though, as theyll be useless afterwards.

Status quo, then, Zabala muttered, wrinkling his nose in distaste as Lars staggered to sit beside him.

Morning, Lars, Michael said pleasantly. Charles.

Morning, milord, Lars rasped, rubbing at his eyes. Deepest apologies, I was coordinating with your man Charles here and the time- He paused, gratefully accepting a coffee from the waitress. Thank you, love, youre a treasure. The time simply ran away from us.

Charles took his coffee with a grunt, saying nothing.

Are your men ready to move? Sobriquet asked. Or are they still coordinating as well?

Never you worry, my men are light on their feet, Lars said. Theyll all be right when we get where were going. He sipped his coffee with a wince, grabbing a lump of sugar with his free hand. Do we have a direction yet?

To the new Safid border, Michael said. Or at least the general region. If Luc means to press his attack against them, hell be moving that way - probably in hiding amid the emigrants. Traveling by truck we may be able to intercept him before he crosses into Pashaluk Qalo.

Capital, Lars said. My men will be delighted, weve been spoiling for some action.

No action, Sobriquet said. Were searching for Luc. Your men will be serving as lookouts, scouts and runners. She frowned at Lars, her eyes lingering on his black uniform shirt; he had lost or discarded his distinctive Swordsman jacket at some point. Civilian clothing, too. Ardan uniforms will cause problems, especially in that part of the country.

Lars grimaced. I expect that youre right, he said. Very well, Ill have my men scrounge-

Charles fell out of his chair, sprawling to the ground in a small puddle of coffee.

That usually works for longer, Unai said. He must have had quite a bit to drink.

Zabala sighed and plucked Larss coffee cup from his hand; the Ardan captain shot him an indignant look - then toppled sideways.

Seems like well be getting a late start, Michael said. Zabala, I dont suppose Mendian could conveniently lose some clothing along with the trucks? And rations, while were at it?

No promises, but probably, Zabala said, standing up. Ill drive over to the Ardan camp and see what I can make of them. He spared one last weary look at Lars and shook his head, turning to walk back the way he had arrived.

Michael glanced between Unai and Sobriquet. Perhaps not the most auspicious start, he said. But well work it out.

The other two exchanged a glance. Charles began to snore.

Well work it out, Michael insisted.