Chapter 14 – The Devil of Nandre #7
The word purring had been repeated by a number of Remin’s other men, unprompted.
It was a distinctive noise. The rest of the story was much the same as that of Meinhem.
After three homes had been smashed apart and the families slaughtered, the town had moved into a nearby cave, walling themselves into the tunnels every night with varying levels of success.
There had been hunger. Some nights the wall held; other nights, it had crumbled, leaving the decreasing numbers of villagers to fight in close tunnels until dawn, often using their own dead as a barrier to the devils.
“They never got a good look at it,” Auber added.
“Both children said it was a big devil, much bigger than His Grace. It went on four legs and had poisonous spikes. They saw the spikes themselves. Their gran was struck in the face, and they said she sickened and died. Once the quills are embedded in flesh, they can’t be removed. ”
“I’ll take them,” said Juste, carefully placing the quills in the pouch with the tongs. “There is much we can learn from them.”
“Amalie said a half dozen people died from the poisoned quills,” Auber said, nodding. “Twenty-seven were still alive when they left the town. I guess we can fill in the rest of the story.”
Remin already had. Two villages lost. He had already known it, but it struck him all over again to hear it now. It wasn’t at all the same as losing men in a war.
“It makes a tidy picture,” Juste said thoughtfully.
“A cave, recently and violently opened on a mountaintop some thirty miles from Nandre. Exactly where Her Grace guessed it would be,” he added, with a nod of his head to Ophele that won murmurs of approval.
“A new devil appears, strong enough to break into the stoutest houses in the valley. We should not assume that this is a complete picture, but in the absence of other evidence, we must proceed based on these assumptions.”
“We can be sure there is a new devil,” Remin agreed. “We’ll begin there.”
That by itself was sufficient for a lengthy discussion.
There was debate over what defenses might be effective against such a creature, and whether they might build and supply a new lookout post at Crassege, with signal relays to Tresingale.
The most immediate and urgent measure was the evacuation of the rest of the valley.
It would be difficult enough to keep the Vallethi border fortresses supplied and defended, and five hundred men were going to spend the winter building an overland supply route through the Talfel Plateau, with reinforced waystations a day’s journey apart.
The villages would have to be sacrificed.
From time to time, Ophele jotted down a question on her paper and nudged it toward Remin, to be asked on her behalf if he thought it relevant.
But through most of the meeting, her head was down, and she was scribbling away in her messy, childish handwriting, filling whole pages.
There was some small satisfaction in knowing that her work had already born fruit.
Even if that cave in the mountains was nothing, if she hadn’t sent Remin to the Spur, they would never have found Amalie and her brother.
They would have known nothing of the devil that destroyed Nandre until it appeared at the gates of Tresingale.
“We will adjourn here for the day,” he said, when the light had shifted far to the west and the conversation had begun to circle.
All known information had been presented and the most immediate decisions had been made; it was time to let everyone go think about it.
“Juste, Edemir, Bram, Tounot, and Auber, stay back. The rest of you may go.”
“Should I leave?” Ophele asked, as everyone else rose, murmuring among themselves.
“No, we are telling no secrets.” Remin resisted the urge to rub his head. He didn’t even want to think about the quantities of paper waiting for him. “Bram, you first.”
“No major problems,” said Bram promptly, knowing what his lord most wanted to hear.
“The Third finished leveling off the road all the way to the riverbend. We’ll have to come up with some other defenses there.
Seems a shame to spoil it, the men have been fishing there in the afternoons.
The north wall is finished, and the gatehouse is under construction, when we get decent weather.
No devils sighted at all for the last week.
I’ve had the guardsmen working on the barracks… ”
There were two dozen projects underway concerning the Tresingale guard and the Third Company all by themselves.
Several secretaries had stayed back as well, accustomed to this routine, and scratched away throughout this recitation to make note of the things that required Remin’s decision or personal attention.
“No major problems,” said Edemir when it was his turn.
“There’s a survey crew on the way to have a look at the Cliffs of Marren for our port.
We’ve started receiving responses from those craftsmen you’ve been recruiting,” he said, producing a list that extended for several pages.
“A surprising number of them have accepted your invitation and will be arriving next year. I’ve warned Nore Ffloce that we’ll need housing prepared for them.
Tresingale will be an exotic place when you have finished with it, my lord. ”
The list pleased Remin. Woodworkers from Hara Vos, blacksmiths from Rendeva, masons from Daitia, glassblowers from Noreven, who could work glass like thread.
Remin was still trying to come to terms with the Court of Artisans, but he would not allow them to delay him.
If they wanted to keep playing their games, he was perfectly willing to recruit craftsmen from the rest of the known world.
“And the scholars?” Remin asked, remembering that they had been expected before he left.
“Master Torigne elected to depart,” Juste said smoothly even as Remin sensed Ophele go rigid beside him. “He chose to make an issue of Her Grace’s work. Master Forgess, of the Library of Beasts, has since seen its merit.”
“We expected worse,” Remin said, slipping a hand under the table to squeeze Ophele’s knee. “It’s just as well that Torigne is gone, if he came only to make trouble. How is the housing coming?”
“They’ve started on a new road, the one parallel to Goose Road,” Edemir said, looking relieved to change the subject. “We really need to start naming these streets, Rem.”
“We’re not calling it Goose Road,” Remin objected, displeased. The filthy creatures had been harassing his people for months and had chased Ophele. “Are they still there?”
“No, they flew away last week. At any rate, the first row of houses is almost complete, with another residential district planned near the craftsmen’s quarter. The paving is finished from the bridge gate to the north gate and they’re starting on the road that is not called Goose Road… ”
Edemir always had the most on his plate. It was nearly sunset by the time he finished his recitation, and Remin could feel his eyes glazing over.
“All the animals are alive, my lord,” said Juste, a little dryly.
“We have received the order of chickens, without too many lost in transit. We have also received a dozen head of cattle and notice that the horses will be here next week. They bypassed the ferries; the craft are really not up to larger livestock.”
“We’ll have bigger boats next year,” Remin said absently. The shipbuilders would also be arriving in spring.
Much of Juste’s real work could not be discussed openly.
Remin knew that there were many messages traveling back and forth to Segoile, where Darri had rented a townhouse in one of the city’s more inconspicuous quarters and begun making strategic contacts.
Darri was not especially accomplished socially, but he was very nearly invisible when he wanted to be.
“We are nearly settled for the winter,” Juste said serenely, and Remin knew he was not only speaking of Tresingale’s livestock.
“The scholars did not like my work,” Ophele confessed the moment they were outside, clutching her sheaf of papers to her breast. She had been so quiet during the remaining reports, Remin had nearly forgotten that she was there. “Master Forgess said so.”
“In front of you?” Remin asked sharply.
“He didn’t know I was there. He apologized,” she added, as Remin lifted her up before him on Lancer.
“Then he must feel a fool, now,” Remin said, leashing his temper. “To so publicly display his poor judgment and reveal the foolish games of the Tower. I expect you to continue your excellent work and will hear no more about it, unless you wish to make me angry.”
Ophele’s eyebrows winged upward in surprise, and she laughed.
“Just like that,” she said, and let her head thump back against his chest. “I didn’t realize how much other work was being done in the valley. How do you remember it all?”
“They remember a good deal of it for me,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. It was a great deal of information to absorb in an afternoon, but the condition of Tresingale was not his primary concern. Or Ophele’s, apparently .
“You were right,” she said, a little subdued. “I didn’t know how terrible it was, in Nandre and Meinhem.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear such things,” Remin replied, turning Lancer toward home. He was tired, and his left arm ached miserably, still deeply bruised from the wolf demon’s bite.
“I don’t know what else they could have done to save themselves,” she said, frowning down at her papers. “I was trying to think what I would do, if it had been me. Would they have done better to try to come here themselves?”
“No. It would have been suicide,” he said shortly.