The Walled City: First Chapter

The Walled City, Book 5 of the Triempery Revelations series, is a chonky, battle-filled book. It starts out on a hopeful note, however, and things race, run, stumble and take a few stands from there. It is, after all, the penultimate book of the series so it has a lot of heavy lifting to do!

If you haven't read The God Spear, Book 4, this chapter—yes, even the first lines—will SPOIL what happened in that book. If you already know what happened or don't care, read on.

[This excerpt is an unedited version, so may change (slightly) in the published book.]

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1

It occurred to me the other day that we ourselves are expressions of Leur. We’re born, we grow, we learn, we try to nail things down, make them forever—but we never succeed at permanence. We are the stuff of Leur’s Creation and we change constantly.

Handurin Stauberg-Randolph, Reflections

The day following the Rill Coming brought solemn crowds to the High Place of Bellan Toregh. As dawn gilded the sky and hills to the east with bands of rose, a thousand men and women hiked to the hilltop to watch their own people, their leaders and loved ones, go to an enemy country. The prevailing mood was that if the Rill didn’t kill them first, maybe Sordan would later.

As the delegates chosen by the Witan stood arrayed upon the Rill platform, dwarfed by the charys that had rested all night in the slip at their backs, they were wrapped in the best of winter furs and dressed in summer finery. As cold as it was in Amallar, they would soon be in Sordan’s sun and warm weather, where true winter never settled.

Hans had spent another nearly sleepless night, tutoring Arne and Aubrey for the trip to Sordan in the morning. Arne at least knew some of the people they would be meeting. And Aubrey would be by far the better ambassador, Hans knew, though he refrained from telling Arne this. Her Stauba contained the refined inflections of Essera and she detected nuances of position and power. Aubrey, he suspected, could hold her own at any Staubaun court.

“A few years in Neuberland can teach a woman a lot about Staubauns,” she said as they waited for Nalf and the rest of the Cruihcila leadership to arrive. “Staubauns create their own manner of blindness. If you play into their expectations, they leave the gates unguarded and are easily fooled.”

“There will be people in Sordan you won’t be able to fool.” Hans turned to Arne, with whom he’d also mulled over the letters to be sent on the mission. “You already know some of the dignitaries we will have to deal with. I would have enlisted Robdan, because of his experience, but I sent him away with, well—you know.” Naming Dorilian would be a mistake with so many Kheld ears nearby. “At least I still have you.”

“I reckon you do have me, for what it’s worth. But Hans, I don’t know anybody.”

“You know Levyathan. You know Tiflan, don’t you?”

Aubrey gave them both a sharp look. “Well, I don’t. Who are they?”

Hans wanted to roll his eyes but managed not to. “Remember that book in which you found Dorilian’s name? They’re in there too, probably right beside him. Levyathan is Dorilian’s son, his Heir. And Tiflan is his cousin, the Bas of Teremar. A very important man. In fact, Arne has probably met most of the important men in the land. He just didn’t bother to take notice.”

Hans turned back to Arne. “This time you’ll have to make sure to take notice, and remember people’s names, if you want to be my lieutenant.”

“Lieutenant? Me?” Though he had always held that position in an unofficial capacity, Arne couldn’t help but be pleased to have his role made official. He’d had few occasions in his life where he felt important. “Well,”he conceded, “I will be the only one of this lot who’s ever been there before. And if there’s to be an alliance, I suppose I’ll be seeing more of them. Heck, I’ve seen more of their cursed Hierarch than they have, the last couple months.”

“And that’s something else you can do—you can tell them he’s safe. Only you and Aubrey know that.”

Nalf Rhys, dressed in his best furs and accompanied by Old Mothers and Cruihcil high elders, arrived on the platform and joined the line of delegates as dawn pushed the sun above the feathery eastern horizon. As if with the dawn, the boarding bars inlaid alongside the slip lighted, glowing blue, and the charys opened, its interior gently lit, a ramp extending from the platform to seal the minimal space between the vessel and the landing. The charys was ready, but there was yet time.

“Friends will meet you in Sordan.” As he spoke to the delegation, which in addition to Aubrey and Arne included Bellan Toregh’s headman along with two chieftains and one adventurous blacksmith, Hans repeated what Dorilian had told him. “The Highborn Sordaneons and others who are trusted. Your coming has not been made public and may not be. That is at the discretion of your hosts. But you will return in the morning, bringing with you a delegation from Sordan who will be empowered to negotiate a treaty between our two nations and maintain Rill operation until then. This I have on the word of the Sordaneons.”

Nalf Rhys then stepped forward and made a brief speech, praising the emissaries for their courage and honor, exhorting them to remember that they were Khelds and, by damn, they’d better carry themselves with pride! Hans didn’t doubt that they would. The Thegnard had chosen his six emissaries for no other reason than that they were too proud of being Kheld to succumb to the lures and luxuries of the rich Staubaun Hierarchate. Hans rested his own hopes elsewhere. Now, more than ever, he wished that Dorilian was going with them. And he wished just as much that his uncle Robdan was going too. This was precisely the right situation for Robdan’s diplomatic skills and knowledge. Robdan would have loved to see Sordan, would have embraced that opportunity, not be shaking with fear as were some of these other men. But maybe, just maybe, it was better this way. In his own city, Dorilian might well have proven difficult and changeable even for Robdan, whereas now only the Hierarch’s last and favorable instructions would be followed by his subjects.

A series of high-pitched tones emitted from the charys, alerting passengers to an imminent departure.

“See you in the morning.” Hans gave Aubrey his most encouraging smile. She looked apprehensive but determined as she stepped into the charys. The chains binding her to this trip were ones she herself had forged, but she would think to the end that she went to Sordan of her own free will. Arne, when it came his turn, swallowed bravely then entered the charys.

The dawn was bright, the sun fully risen, when a second series of high-pitched tones sounded and the boarding bar on the landing flashed vibrant red, the portals closing and boarding ramp retracting. Hans felt a subtle surge of energy. Slowly, barely perceptible at first, the charys rose from its holding berth and slid into the first acceleration arm. Cupped suddenly in the flaring energy fields of the propulsion mechanism, the charys leaped forward, a low drone sounding as each successive field shifted, departing with wildly increasing speed until it too vanished.

The last whine drifted across Bellan Toregh.

“It’s gone.” Nalf Rhys stared after the flash of light that had carried his countrymen south to lands none of them had ever thought to see.

“It sure is,” said Hans. He felt more alone than he had in ages. For the first time since meeting Arne on the docks at Ben Aranath on a hot spring night so many months ago, he was completely on his own. “But it will return. And when it does, we’re going to make Amallar a Rill nation.”