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
Morning saw the crowds return to the High Place of Bellan Toregh. This time the masses were silent, their elation blunted by apprehension: some of their own people, their leaders and loved ones, were going to an enemy country by way of a thing they did not understand or wholly trust yet. Many still believed that the Rill, though it had come to life atop their mount and brought a charys, forbade Khelds from riding and would kill those who attempted to do so.
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 had related very little about her life in Saemoregh. Hans knew she owned a large property given by Marc Frederick to her father, and that she conducted her own—and her town’s—business with lords in Leseos, Annech, and Gobba. “They create their own manner of blindness. If you play into their expectations, they leave the gates unguarded and are easily fooled.”
“There are a few there 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. 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? And you’ve met some of the other important men in the land. You just didn’t bother to take notice. This time you’ll have to make sure that you do, 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.”
By the time they reached the Rill platform, the delegates 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 sun and warm weather. The sweltering Sordani summer was over, but true winter never settled there. As dawn pushed the sun above the feathery eastern horizon, the boarding bars inlaid alongside the slip lighted, glowing blue, and the charysopened, 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.” 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 had been going back with them, with Robdan serving as Amallar’s ambassador. But maybe, just maybe, it was better this way. In his own city, Dorilian might well have proven difficult and changeable, whereas now only his 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. She was going to Sordan in chains she herself had forged, but she would think to the end that she went of her own free will. And Arne, when it came his turn, swallowed bravely. Then he, too, entered.
The day was bright dawn, 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 as 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 charysleaped, a low drone sounding as each successive field shifted, departing with wildly increasing speed until it too vanished even before 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.”
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