Shadow's End (Light & Shadow) by Moira Katson Read Free Book Online

it. This ragtag group was fully inadequate to the task of standing against the Royal Army, not only by size but also by training. I could teach these men basic troop formations and drill them every day for the next half year, but even I, who had never seen a battle, knew that it was far different to lower spears into formation in a courtyard than withstand the charge of a thousand horsemen.
    I spoke openly of these troubles only to Jeram, confiding in him that we could not expect to mount an invasion on the city of Penekket itself. The best we could hope for would be to repel an invading army, and even then, we had best resort to less direct tactics: cutting supply lines, spoiling food stores, picking off the men a few at a time. But however logical the man might be, however practical, he had set his sights on winning a battle with the army, and nothing would do for him but that his men be trained. In the face of his cold-eyed stare, knowing this to be the last refuge for Miriel and myself, I bit my tongue on further arguments and kept at work, hoping that Miriel might have more luck with the treaty than I was having with the men, and that my own discouragement would not discourage her.
    I did not need to worry—Miriel , determinedly ignoring news of the war, grew more confident in her treaty by the day. Her early uncertainty, spurred by the divisions within the movement, had been restored by her own research, by the simple act of moving forward. When she questioned Jeram as to what guidance he received from Jacces, he had only stared at her blankly. The High Priest, it seemed, had continued to be only an inspirational leader; he had sparked the rebellion with his letters, but he hung back, offering no guidance as to how the movement might come to fruition, and Miriel took this as a very good sign, indeed—with no lines of communication between the leaders in the towns, and the High Priest himself, we might well accomplish something before he learned of it, and took exception.
    I marveled at all of it: the men, drilling each day in the courtyard, lending their thoughts for the treaty, leaving their families and devoting their lives to this . The rebellion had been begun by the wealthy, the educated—those with much wealth and much time to waste, as I had once cynically thought—but it was now carried on the backs of the poor, men who worked hard from sunup to sundown and then gathered in taverns to speak of rights and injustices.
    “What do they know of philosophy?” I asked Miriel skeptically, and she shook her head.
    “Philosophy is nothing but a mask,” she said, surprising me. “It’s only pretty words for grand concepts. But at its core, it’s no more than yearning for justice. You don’t have to be educated to understand that—these men feel injustice as much as any priest or scholar.”
    Odd as it was to hear her, of all people, dismiss philosophy, I believed her. She had spent the first weeks of our stay listening to the Merchant and to Jeram for hours, and calling the men in from the tavern so that she could hear to their opinions as well; she would sit silently, hardly moving, marking everything they said, learning their hopes and their anger alike. While Jeram thought that she was merely learning what they would accept for a treaty, and I had first thought that she was only drawing out their thoughts to gain their trust, I now knew that her reasons ran deeper: Miriel was busy learning the undercurrents of the rebellion, searching out the points that could fracture it all. Before we arrived, there had been no plans for a treaty—the men had been bound together only by their dislike of nobles and kings. Now, Miriel must forge a treaty pleasing to a group that had, as it happened, wildly disparate beliefs as to how the kingdom should be run.
    She had told the Merchant that there was a great difference between being useful, and being a figurehead, but Miriel was determined to be both. I raised my eyebrows