Page 12 of Something Human

“Yes, well … I admit it sounds like a lot of effort to go to just to find a place to starve. But I’d be more use inside Tios than not.”

“I can’t agree. I’m finding you very useful here. Can I have some more water?”

Adares laughed and fetched the jug to refill his cup.

“In truth,” Rus said, after he had sipped his water, “I understand why you want to return to Tios, even though I am not in the same hurry to return to my camp. Your cause—the Phemian cause—is more just. You were defending your home, and I cannot find fault with that. We were attacking you.”

“Sure, but we’re interlopers in Kargania—Karhan, I mean. We annexed the good goldmine and the quarries, we’ve coopted the Getti, who used to be your allies, and allied with the Daine, who’ve always been your enemies. You’re right to see us as a threat—maybe even right to try to drive us out, based on what you know of us.

“There’s more that you don’t know—the reason you defeated us so easily yesterday is that we’ve only got one legion, and not even a very good one, the Fourth Colonial. Pheme refuses to send more troops until … well, there’s a lot of politics involved, but the thing is, so long as we’ve only got the Fourth Colonial, we’re not going to mount a campaign against you up in the North. Pheme’s not interested in expanding in Kargania these days. The colonies are falling out of fashion. We could settle down and just be a presence in the territory, a link with the Pseuchaian states, trading with the tribes—you could get more books from Kos—but if this siege turns into some kind of massacre, if Phemian civilians die … ”

“Pheme will send the legions,” Rus finished for him. “Marching into the North for revenge. Years of bloodshed. And your people would become merchants of war after all, which is what you do not want to see.”

“So desperately. I can’t tell you.”

“You do not have to. I could tell that is how you felt. It is why I thought you might have left, before.”

“But you understand all that. I guess that’s why I didn’t.”

They were silent for a few moments, not looking at one another, the mood solemn and serious.

“No,” said Rus finally, “I think you just enjoy laughing at me about fish wine and medicinal honey and things.”

“Actually, you’re right.”

“Tell me,” Rus said, “what was propitious about this place? Why did your holy men choose it for their temples?”

Adares gave that a moment’s thought. “Honestly, I’ve no idea. It was built long before I came to Tios. I’m sure there must have been some reason to pick the site, but … well, it’s just traditional to have temples outside the city—we do it in Pheme—that you process to on festivals. We have temples inside the city as well. Sorry, I’m not a religious specialist like you, so I don’t know the details.”

Rus sighed. “And this temple we are in now—who is it dedicated to? I suppose you know that much.”

“Soukos. Our horse god.”

Rus gave him a look. “He’s not your horse god, Phemian. He’s the horse god. We call him Gurhat, and we worship him differently—but that is only a difference in language and custom. The god is the same.”

“I know that. We know that—Phemians know that.”

“But you thought the barbarians didn’t. You are quite wrong. It is not just I, because I am kahar and a ‘religious specialist’—it is not just the Luth, even, it is all the people of the Karhan who know that you worship the same gods on your islands as we do here. It is commonly known. Do you think anyone would have let you stay in this land as long as they have if they thought you worshipped false gods? We would have been down here besieging your city long before now if we thought you spread lies with your religion.”

“That was an interesting tirade, but you misunderstood me. I didn’t mean to suggest that your people don’t know—I just meant that my people do. I said ‘our horse god,’ but all I meant was ‘our name for the horse god.’ You’re a bit of a nitpicker, Rus.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. It is too bad you don’t speak Firhat Luth. For me, Firhat Kosoth is the language of, as you say, nitpicking. I am not like that when I speak my native language. Well … not so much.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. But I never had much incentive to learn your language. Not very many Luth have been willing to speak to Phemians—or come near us, really. I know the languages of the Getti and the Daine, well enough to get by, and I have a smattering of Tak—those are all the tribes that we’ve had friendly dealings with. Not that we’ve been able to do them much good.”

“You did help the Daine, last summer.”

“Yes. Against the Hurs. Gunthanaruth’s pet tribe, as I hear.”

“He married his daughter to the Hurs headman last year.”

Adares nodded. He ran his fingers absently over the cool clay handle of the water jug sitting beside him on the bed.

After a while Rus said, “I’m sorry I was rude about the horse god.”

Adares looked up at him, surprised. “You weren’t. Well—if you were, I didn’t mind. I was just … remembering. That skirmish with the Hurs last summer was a disaster. That was when our archon, Hesteios, was killed.”

“Your what?”