Act of Will by A. J. Hartley Read Free Book Online

occasionally “attendants” (the euphemistic term applied to bodyguards to keep them legal). These guards couldn’t carry much in the way of arms in the town, of course, but they could be weighed down with plate armor and battle-axes on the roads. That was legal so long as they didn’t travel in groups of more than four.
    People tended to be respectful of the black merchants for their wealth and education, but you sometimes got a sense of resentment simply because they were outsiders, a resentment aggravated by the fact that our town was occupied by foreigners. I was rather fascinated by the darkness of Orgos’s skin, the tight curl of his hair, and the broad features of his face. Fascinated, but not reassured. I don’t suppose I’d ever been this close to a black man before, and that actually made me feel worse. I wouldn’t miss this lousy town, if I got out of it, but Orgos, with his fake accent and unfamiliar appearance, reminded me of how little I knew of the outside world I was being thrown into, and I resented him for it. Whether I resented him enough to turn him over to the guards on the gate remained to be seen.
    “What was that flash of light?” I said, suddenly remembering something that had been nagging at me.
    “What flash of light?”
    “Back at the inn,” I said. “When the soldiers came in. There was a flash of light, bright like a firework. I wasn’t looking right at it, but I saw the way it lit the room and then . . . I don’t know. I got confused or sick or something.”
    “It must have been a spark from swords clashing,” he said. He stared ahead of him.
    “A spark that lit the whole room?” I said. “No way.”
    “I can’t think of what else it would be,” he said. “I didn’t notice it.”
    I knew he was lying, but I had no idea why or what else it could have been, and since he was twice my size, a notorious criminal, and armed to the teeth, I said nothing.
    We got stuck behind a cart containing a peasant family in bright but soiled clothes, though they were less relevant than the two underfed bullocks pulling them. We had to (I could barely believe it possible) reduce speed.
    All cursing aside, we came to the gatehouse too soon for my liking. Once again, I felt the steely grasp of terror’s mailed gauntlet tightening about my genitals. Around us the houses, hawkers, and wandering livestock had melted away and we found ourselves in a corner of the great sand-colored stone wall that circled the city. Fifty feet up, pairs of infantrymen walked the parapeted wall. Sentries, their white diamond-motif cloaks drawn about them against the rain, looked down upon us through the eyeholes of bright steel helms, their bows over their shoulders. I stared wide-eyed at Orgos, who made the smallest calming gesture with one hand and reined the horses.
    At the angle of the two vast walls was the gatehouse, surmounted by a watchtower. The bullock cart in front of us stopped and the driver climbed down. A burly foot patrolman was asking him questions and pointing dismissively at the people in the wagon.
    The dozen guards who stood alert in the gateway itself were the business end of the Empire. They too wore the white diamonded cloaks, but they bore large round shields protecting them from knee to shoulder. Iron cuirasses encased their thoraxes, and their helms were crested with white horsehair and left only their eyes uncovered. Over their thighs and abdomens they wore skirts of white linen with metal rings sewn on. Shortswords hung at their waists, a pair of light javelins stood by their sides, and in their right hands they clasped long wooden spears tipped with fine steel. They scared the living daylights out of me.
    If I was to give myself up and turn Orgos over to the Empire, these were the men I would be assisting. Of course I had seen them before, but never had I seen them as an enemy might. They looked almost invulnerable, which, I’m sure, was the idea. They also looked like an army,