Page 63 of The Summer Pass

“Ah.”

“A bit more than a month ago now. His wound healed, but he never really got his strength back, and then he got sick.”

Lill frowned. “I don’t know what one says. When someone has died. I mean, I know they have something they say in the lowlands, to be respectful, you know? Is there something like that up here?”

“May he be embraced by the ancestors,” Vanu signed, and he made the gesture that went with it if you said it out loud.

“May he be embraced by the ancestors,” Lill repeated. He couldn’t make the gesture with only one hand, but he gave it a try.

“He left Umtúshta to me—turned it over to me before he knew he’d die, matter of fact. He’d mellowed a lot—shame you didn’t see it. He had a real change of heart about you, too—wanted to beg your forgiveness and everything. Didn’t even come over all ‘I knew it the whole time’ when I told him you were an assassin.”

“That’s … hard to believe, actually.”

“True, though.”

“So Gurti’s a widow now.”

“Yeah, but she and Tirtu are on rough terrain somehow—I don’t really understand what’s going on there.”

Lill sighed. “It’s complicated for everyone, I guess. Being in love.”

Vanu looked at him in the dim light—dimmer than it ought to have been because of those two busybodies blowing out all the lamps—and wanted to argue with that but couldn’t. He wanted to say it was simple, actually. When you wanted to fuck somebody but also wanted them around all the time, permanently part of your life—what was complicated about that? The part where it turned out they could hurt you in ways you never expected to be hurt, even though they loved you, and hurt everyone around you who also cared about you, without meaning to … It was actually complicated.

“What we’ve got to do now,” he said after a moment, “is have a council of war. You want to interpret for me?”

“We’re not settling down for a long siege in the wine cellar,” Lill translated, first into Hawada and then into Zashian.

The occupants of the cellar were gathered around the couch where he was sitting. Vanu stood. At his instruction, they had relit a couple of the lamps—there was no pressing need to ration oil—so everyone could see each other.

“The fortress of Tagra Degra belongs to me,” Vanu went on. “Darma Valuru of Tsuruva is a usurper. I intend to take this place back from him and send the king of Zash’s army on their way.”

“Count me in,” Nakhana signed before Lill had finished translating.

Vanu nodded, smiling. “On my way in here, I saw that even the men Darma has patrolling the walls and guarding his prisoners aren’t united in support of him. He’d ordered me shot on sight—” Firuduna and Barda booed loudly. “—but I was still able to find allies in the dungeon. I need to know how far that goes. When I make it known that I’m taking my fortress back, how many of Darma’s men will stand by him, and how many will come over to me?”

“The men of Tsuruva will stand with you, my lord!” Firuduna proclaimed. Nakhana was signing something similar.

“I don’t doubt it,” Vanu signed, “and I’m grateful for it. Can the two of you go back out there and see who else is with us?”

“Yes, my lord!” Firuduna cried, while Nakhana tried to explain that it was in order to volunteer for such a task that he had come into the wine cellar with Firuduna in the first place.

“Can I go too?” Barda chimed in eagerly.

“If you’re careful,” said Vanu. “Firuduna takes the lead.”

Barda accepted that surprisingly well.

“I’ll have letters for you to leave outside the west gate,” Vanu went on. “One for my troops, one for Artayarasha’s men, and … one more. Before I left, I arranged for someone to climb up each night to check for messages.”

“Oh, very good,” Lill thought, and then realized he’d said it out loud too.

Vanu raised an eyebrow at him. “Glad you approve.”

“My lord,” said Otoni, “Gurti and I could go talk to some of the women in the fortress.”

“Yes,” said Gurti. “And we can seek out the people from my village. They know me and will listen to me.”

“Good,” said Vanu. “If you’re willing, do that.”