Alrik didn’t seem exactly pleased at being lectured by his previously worthless younger brother, but he was listening. He raised an eyebrow as he said, “And the second factor I’m leaving out?”
“Thewomen,” Finnvid said firmly. “It’s not like we thought it was, before I left. The women aren’t drudges, exhausted from being treated as broodmares and doing all the menial labor. The women run the valley. The economy, the crafts, the agriculture—they’re absolutely in charge of everything but the military. Even reproduction.Theycall the men to the city when they want them. The children do a lot of the menial tasks—laundry or whatnot—and there really isn’t as much of that sort of work there as there is here. No great dinners with white linens and fancy foods. They live more simply, but more equally, too. The women are a force to be reckoned with. And I’ve been told—and it makes sense, based on what I saw—that the men would never attack the city. Their mothers and sisters and children live in there, and they wouldn’t endanger them.”
Alrik pursed his lips and glanced over toward the rolled parchment on his desk. “You haven’t read the warlord’s letter,” he said thoughtfully. “But you’ve guessed at a lot of it. Which makes me think you understand the situation over there fairly well.”
“But there’s something I’m missing?”
“Possibly.” Alrik made a face, one Finnvid remembered from their childhood. Alrik was trying to decide how much information to share. Unfortunately, in their childhood capers Finnvid had usually let his brother down; he’d reported the theft of the sweet plums, or wandered off when he was supposed to be standing guard. But maybe Alrik had forgotten, because he finally waved an arm toward the desk. “Read it,” he said. Apparently making it sound like an order was easier than admitting he’d like Finnvid’s opinion.
And Finnvid didn’t need to be ordered twice. He grabbed the letter and scanned it quickly. It was addressed to Alrik, written in Torian, and signed by the warlord. He returned to the top and went through it more carefully. He looked over at his brother, who was watching with more patience than usual, and then nodded slowly. “It’s mostly lies,” Finnvid said. “I can see why you thought you were protecting me. Or getting revenge, I suppose. But I’ve told you the truth. The Sacrati didn’t abuse me. I was a terrible slave, really, disrespectful and sullen, and no one ever raised a hand to me. It was thewarlordwho knew who I was, and he left me enslaved because—” Finnvid stopped, frowned, then said, “because he wasn’t powerful enough to get me free.” It was true, and it was important. “He tried to sneak me out in the slave train; I assume I’d have been rescued somewhere in the forest and sent home. Then he tried to bully Theos into giving me to him. But Theos didn’t give in, and the warlord couldn’t do a thing about it. If he had the sort of power over Windthorn that he claims, he’d just have ordered them to free me and it wouldn’t have been an issue.”
“It may have been a question of timing,” Alrik said, but he didn’t sound sure. “He may still have been consolidating his power. And we don’t know what’s happened over there since you left.”
Finnvid couldn’t argue with that. He looked down at the letter again. It was mostly what he’d expected. The first part was a cleverly worded manipulation: there was no actualorderto attack the Sacrati, but there was a clear expression of understanding if such an attack were to occur, given the horrible treatment the Elkati prince had suffered at Sacrati hands. And then there were promises of alliances and mutual benefit, nothing that was new to Finnvid after the initial meeting with the warlord. But the third part was a puzzle. Until . . . “He wantsusto attack the city,” he gasped. “That’s why he wants the exchange of troops. He’ll send his most independent troops away from the city, to us or elsewhere, and we’ll send himourmen, for ‘training,’ and he’ll use them to attack the city. The women aren’t heavily armed, and they wouldn’t be expecting it. It wouldn’t take too many soldiers to take the place over.”
Alrik nodded. “I think that may be it.”
“It wouldn’t work. Not long-term. Our men might be able totakethe city, but they’d never hold it. Not once the women organized resistance, and certainly not once the Torian troops returned.”
“I wonder how many Torian troops would beleft,” Alrik said. “If he can get the Sacrati fighting the regulars, there’d be huge casualties, surely. Is he that . . . merciless? Cruel? Could he be sinister enough to sacrifice his own men like that?”
“I don’t know.” Finnvid hoped not. “Maybe he’s just planning to send for help from the central valleys. Even asmallconflict between Sacrati and regular troops would be unheard of in the Torian Empire. I don’t know how they’d handle it, but maybe they’d split the men up, and send new troops to serve under the warlord? Men who wouldn’t be as loyal to the women in the city, and maybe men from the central valleys, who want Torian society to change in the same ways the warlord does.”
Alrik shook his head in disgust. “We don’t know. We just don’t know enough to make good decisions.”
“We know enough to makesomegood decisions,” Finnvid objected. “We know the warlord’s letter is full of lies, and he wanted us to do his dirty work for him.” He left out any recriminating comments about just how easily Alrik had fallen into that trap, and tried not to think about the tragic results of his brother’s mistake. “So surely we can decide not to work with him anymore, can’t we? We can decide that his enemies are our friends?”
“We know not to trust him,” Alrik agreed. “But, Finn . . . remember our ultimate goal here. We’re not trying to solve the problems of the Torian Empire. We just want to look after Elkat.”
The idea brought Finnvid up short. Alrik was right, of course. Alrik was thinking like a king, agoodking, putting the interests of his people first. “But what does thatmean? How do we do that?”
“We back the winner.” Alrik sounded a little sad, but only a little, and his voice was more energetic as he added, “We aren’t looking to make friends with the Torians. We aren’t even looking at them as allies. We just want to be left alone.”
“Will the winner do that? Or will he finish up in Windthorn and then look around for his next challenge? If we’re not friends or allies, how do we ensure that we’ll be left alone long-term?”
“We make our allies on the other side. The other valleys, the ones not yet under Torian control. We’ve started the process. We have treaties in place, but no one has built their armies enough, not to face a threat like this. If the Torians attacked, even just one valley of Torians, we’d have trouble defending ourselves. But every day we hold them off matters. We only started working on this a couple years ago, and we’ve already got several valleys willing to stand with us. If we can last another few years, especially if the Torians are weakening themselves with infighting, we’ll have more allies, more troops, and a much better chance.”
It made sense, but it also made Finnvid’s skin crawl. The Torians weren’t an abstraction to him, not any longer. They were living, breathing, kissing, fuckingpeople. They weren’t the horde. Were they?
“What if we could do something more?” he asked. “What if we could find some sort of common ground with the Torians? Their science is weak—they only learn from within the empire, without really talking to anyone outside. When they conquer new territory, the learning stays in that valley instead of spreading as it should. Their music, their art—it’s very limited. But I think they’d enjoy those things if they had the chance. And maybe we could learn from them, too.” Probably not a great time to discuss economic equality, but surely there were other contributions the Torians could make. “On the trip here, they built simple structures of snow to sleep in. Nothing too impressive, in terms of engineering, but none of us knew how to do it. We would have frozen to death if they hadn’t shared their knowledge.”
“Youdidget close to them.” It didn’t feel like an accusation, not like it did when their mother said it.
“I lived with them for months. And they treated uswell. It was all based on their assumption that every living human would want to become a part of the Torian Empire, but once you get past that, they were kind. And honestly . . .” This part was probably a mistake. Probably not something Finnvid should be saying right then, or maybe ever. But this was his brother, and he wanted to be as honest as he could. “Have you ever heard of a valley revolting after it’s been taken over by the Torians? I never have. And do you know why? It’s because they get rid of the few people who will never agree to their ways—the royals, the nobles. They kill us or send us back east, I think. But for everyone else? The peasants, struggling to find food to eat and somewhere warm for the winter? They feed them, and give them clothes and beds. They expect work in exchange, of course, but we expect that too, and give less in return. For most people—” No, Finnvid wasn’t stupid enough to complete that sentence, not even with Alrik. This wasn’t the time to point out that for most people, things werebetterunder Torian rule than under independence.
So he shrugged to show it wasn’t a matter he would pursue. “They gave us chances, and they were patient.” He remembered Theos’s frequent bouts of frustration and smiled despite himself. “Well, notalwayspatient. But always kind.” Was that true? “Never cruel.” He could stand behind that statement, at least.
“So you aren’t their enemy.” Alrik soundedtoocasual. “You’d like to be their friend.” He smiled gently, as if inviting a confidence. “All of them, or one of them in particular?”
The hair on the back of Finnvid’s neck stood on end. This was a trap. He had no idea what would happen to him if he fell into it, but he had a pretty good idea what would happen to Theos. “I spent more time with some than with others,” he admitted. “One of them—” He stopped, wondering what Andros was up to and whether it would be wise to mention his presence to Alrik. “There was one who didn’t come all the way with us. But his name is Andros, and he’s . . . We think of Torians as being ill-humored, but he’s not, at all. Andros was a good friend.”
“Andros.” Alrik looked surprised. “What about the one we’ve captured? The one who thought he owned you?”
“Theos?” Finnvid forced a shrug. “I think he has good intentions. Not quite as smart as Andros, maybe; less aware of the larger world. He was almost completely unable to admit that Torians aren’t the best at every single thing. But he wasn’t a problem.”
“Mother said—” Alrik frowned before continuing. “She was worried. She thought you’d . . . She said you might have ‘formed an unnatural attachment’ to him.”
Finnvid couldn’t help himself. He schooled his face to innocence and said, “‘Unnatural’? What do you mean?”
