Keeping the Fire: Making Their Stand

Don't know what this is? Check out the Pages section to the right to learn more about the Keeping the Fire project. 

╩      51     ╩

The men of the Watch stood on Stand at the Barracks of the First Tower. It was the oldest and most secure of the stations given over to the Edgaran military, men who served as the town watch, or kept the roads and fields of the Dehali Valley safe from aggressor, bandit, or beast. Every man must serve, for at least two seasons in the Men-at-Arms, a millita that supplemented Watch in war and served as it's basic training. Much of that time would be spent on training, learning the law of the Fortress, performing those unskilled labors that the Fortress had in plenty. But for those that stayed on long, for those that wished to join the City Watch, they had first to take their Stand. The old blockhouse had been the first building built upon the spire and it still stood, if albeit now cracked and weather worn. It offered the grandest view of the valley spilling out to the south for miles in any direction. No enemy would be coming from the south without warning for days or weeks. Yet the first duty was to Stand here, to watch to the south. They would not be relieved until they had stayed on their Stand for three days and nights of total silence without water, food, or encouragement. Delhay always came here when he was troubled. He was a cynic and cared not for such traditions and false expressions of strength. Yet he cared for the man who did. He came to the Barracks of the First Tower when he was worried because he could be sure to find Sir Rovan here and that man alone he trusted in the Fortress.

Sir Rovan was the Djaught of Guards and Wards. His duties call upon him to keep the walls maintained, their entrances guarded, and the City Watch in good working order. He would attend to his business here, on a round topped battlement, facing the backs of the men on their Stand regardless of the weather or the season. He was balding, but well kept, aged but still full of strength; tall and keen eyed he spoke his words slowly but they were always worth speaking. When Delhay found him, it was still quite early and a chill clung to the walls, the hoarfrost still to be seen in their shadows.

“I smell blood Rovan,” Delhay said as he came up. Rovan was looking over a ledger that had been handed to him, a cup of steaming tea in his other hand.

“You always smell blood Whale. But it is good to see you here.”

“I smell blood on the wind Rovan, you knew I would be here. Certainly his grace brought my words to you. He gives me no reason to ignore them.”

“None that you wish to hear from him,” Rovan replied, looking up from the ledger, “You know that His Grace will not give you sweeping powers. There is a fear in the Fortress right now and too brisk of a response will send the wrong signal. In war domestic or foreign, we must be a hawk that takes a single rat from a field, not a boar that crushes the wheat under-hoof.”

“It is different this time,” Delhay said, looking around himself. He always felt exposed on this bastion, the surrounding towers were higher, the men on their Stand close enough to catch fragments of their speech, almost anyone could be lurking in bow's reach or earshot. Sir Rovan clearly preferred it. The Djaught of Guards and Wards stared a long time at Delhay before he spoke.

“Why?” was all he asked.

“Because the others are treating it differently. You say we need to be a hawk that takes a rat, fine enough if you let me be an owl, the hours please me better. But let me tell you that I see more rats than I have ever seen before. War is coming, maybe a coup, and the Watch will not see it from the south wall.”

“What do you see Delhay?”

“Don't play games with me Rovan.”

“Don't make me then, Night Keeper.” Delhay winced at hearing his title spoken. It was an archaic one and not discussed publicly. Delhay used it and tolerated its use the least of any. He found that anonymous authority was always more frightening than any grand name. To hear it, he felt as if a dog suddenly finding the end of the chain on his collar.

“I see men taking their Stand,” he did not wait for Sir Rovan to prompt him further, “I see that they are young, dedicated, and that there are less of them than I have ever counted here. Didn't it used to be double ranks around the time of the Hollow Sun War?”

“ Triple,” replied Sir Rovan, “and in the times before that it used to be a real test. Only the last one hundred each year would be taken. The others were refused and there were always many of them.” Delhay could hear a sadness in Sir Rovan's voice and knew it was a feeling that he would never understand.

“You were going to tell me something else I bet,” the Whale said.

“Yes. I was going to tell you that my duties are the walls, their gates, and the men who watch them. I can do the whole of my task from this bastion because I can watch the men. It is the Watch that keeps all other things. Know the wit and will of my men and I know the strength of the walls.” Sir Rovan set down his ledger and tea and adjusted his cloak back over his shoulders.

“You need my help Delhay, but I cannot give you the things you ask the king for. He refuses them at my request.”

“Then give me something else. I have my own in the Watch but I fear they are becoming known to spies from abroad. Give me some of your men, some who know the valley. My hand out there is weak.”

“No deaths.”

“None that are unnecessary.”

“No deaths. Any one they take comes here and faces the Adjudicators.” Delhay hesitated like a gambler before a round a bidding.

“Alright. Your best ten that know the villages and by ways all across the valley. I want them to follow up on a few things.”

“Looking for that Djaught who has gone missing?”

“No,” replied the Whale, “if I need his body I can collect it whenever I wish. I will expect someone to meet me tonight so I can send a message with orders.”

Sir Rovan, assented with a nod and the Whale left him. Delhay found himself walking quickly, happy to be getting out of the sunlight. He sent a look back over his shoulder. Sir Rovan had left his post at the bastion. He stood now just a step behind the men taking their Stand. He was as perfect among them as a stone set amid a long wall. Delhay would never be like him, but he was grateful that the Goddess provided for men such as that.

╩          ╩