"You were lucky to escape that stain," Malk replied, jabbing the butt of his spear into the ground as a sign of agitation.
"Still," the other replied, "the commander could have tried to keep some honor for his warriors if not himself."
"You know the saying about midwives," Malk chided. "In all but battle they speak loudest. Better to plead and bargain tomorrow when her words do not echo. Perhaps some of the warriors will be able to serve worthy commanders. Anyway, some words are better spoken in privacy." Malk tried to surreptitiously wave at Haddad's face and the purple and red mark imprinted there. Malk's nervousness taught Haddad that he might have some power, even as a slave.
The dwelling of Latulla showed Haddad that he was to serve an important power. It was another walled compound with a large house and outbuildings. The main structure was multilevel, and in the entire town only a few buildings were equivalently high. The foundation and first story were rough-cut stone. There were two more levels of windows and balconies facing the gate and the sides of the compound. The roof was massive, a huge, steep tent about to settle over the entire house. A steep roof was necessary where large amounts of snow fell, but Haddad was astounded at the waste of materials and labor in building such a roof in these warm lowlands. In fact, the entire complex was too substantial for the few years that the Keldons had been here. Most of the materials did not look local except for the stone. How much shipping had been dedicated to this construction, Haddad wondered.
Keldons and slaves stopped at the gatehouse. A richly dressed human servant stood between two guards. Over the gate hung a round black shield with a single complex character of red and purple, an emblem Haddad realized must be replicated in the complex bruise on his face.
"We have brought a slave at the artificer's orders," said the Keldon escort, and Gravel and Army threw him down before the servant. Barge slaves and warriors left, and Haddad was at his new home.
"I am Briach, chief among Latulla's slaves," he intoned. "And while your genuflection is flattering, I require only simple courtesy." Haddad drew himself to his feet and stood before the gate.
Briach was tall and pale, dressed in a simple short robe of medium quality. His hair was red and freckles covered his face, a coloring common to many slaves from Keld as Haddad would find out. On his right arm was a bronze armband, richly worked with a scattering of stones. Threaded through his belt was a short, heavy club. While Haddad had seen knives and other possible weapons in the hands of slaves, they had all been tools. The club was a weapon, and it showed this slave had unusual trust and authority in the town.
"Come with me," Briach commanded, and Haddad moved at a half-run to catch up.
"You have been very fortunate…" Briach paused, and Haddad almost ran into him. "What is your name and profession?"
"I am Haddad, and I am a League soldier," Haddad replied, trying to sound proud. "I maintained the war machines and fought with honor."
"Your old life is dead, Haddad," Briach said as he continued walking. "Your life is now service to Keld and to Artificer Latulla." Briach stopped before the steps of the house and gestured widely. "This is your home, and here is your loyalty." Briach grasped Haddad's shoulder and lightly touched the massive bruise already starting to fade. "You are marked, and service is written on your soul. You have no family, no nation, no purpose apart from Latulla." Briach started walking around the building, out of sight of the gates and the guards standing watch at the small gatehouse.
Benches were placed outside the rear of the house, and the cackling of chickens sounded from a coop against the rear enclosure wall. Haddad and Briach sat down, and Haddad said nothing, instead looking at the grounds as a prospective battlefield for his freedom.
"Is it true that in the League, city has fought city?" Briach asked.
"Yes, the cities have battled, though they fought in the field rather than on city streets," Haddad replied. In the presence of an invasion it was an embarrassing historical note.
"And is it true your fighters may move from army to army?" Briach continued. Haddad decided to play along rather than educate Briach in the complexities and shifting loyalties that in the recent past governed military employment.
"Yes, allegiances change all the time." Of course, intercity fighting disappeared with the current Keldon incursion.
"Then you are lucky you have this chance to serve Keld." Briach stood and stared north. "The strength of Keld will sweep down upon your cities and crush your armies. You have been given a precious opportunity to see the completion of a great destiny. You are honored to serve one of a special class. Artificers create new weapons, new engines of destruction. Fired by the 'Heroes' Blood' and the will of our warriors, Keld will sweep over the world!" Briach's eyes were shining, and Haddad felt his gorge rise at the sight of a slave in love with his masters. In the League, a military defeat only meant a small loss of status or position. Briach was talking about the total destruction of Haddad's city, nation, and culture. Haddad hoped he died before he wished for such a foulness to grow.
"What do you mean, 'Heroes' Blood'? " Haddad wanted Briach to keep talking but couldn't bring himself to agree with the chief slave's mad vision.
"Long ago when the land was newly born, gods and heroes stalked the land. Each stood taller and mightier than any who walk today." Briach swung and gestured westward. "But an evil came into the land and corrupted the gods, turning them weak and twisted in hate for all living things. They swept over the land, and death flew with them in slaughter and disease. The people writhed under the feet of their murderers. The gods' betrayal festered and poisoned mortal men until they joined the forces of darkness."
Haddad was impressed with Briach's storytelling skills but had no idea what the loon was talking about.
"The Heroes fought against false and treacherous gods. The swords of right spilled waves of blood, but each victory or stalemate only delayed evil's triumph. The Heroes saw all turned against them and sent their people fleeing north, telling them millennia must pass before they could return home. Those remaining battled without any thought of restraint. Every battlefield drank Heroes' Blood and the tears of fallen gods. Now evil was besieged at every point as men threw themselves against their betrayers, smothering and caging fallen gods under piles of bodies and then bloody bones. The final battle vanquished evil but at the cost of every warrior's life. Only the corpses were left in a poisoned land." Briach sat down and spoke more quietly.
"The land was empty for centuries. Time covered every victory and defeat, changing the remains of slaughter and sacrifice into power waiting to be picked up by the children of heroes." Briach's tone turned sour. "But escaped slaves came to the empty land and found the blood of heroes. They used it to fertilize fields, to power wagons and ships to carry cabbages. The scum fed off the land left behind by the fathers of Keld. And so the Keldons have returned to reclaim their heritage.
"Each victory, each barrel of tufa, each war manikin fed by Heroes' Blood brings all of Keld closer to a holy war. Each slave who completes his task brings that day closer," Briach exclaimed.
"The Keldons want to sweep over the world," Haddad repeated. "But if what you say is true, then they are centuries late in arriving here. Why are they here now?"
"Because you are stealing the Heroes' Blood!" Briach snarled. "The tufa your League pulls from the mines is composed of the blood and gore shed by the Heroes and their enemies. Each concentration marks the remains of battle and power run amok. What you call tufa is the matrix holding Heroes' Blood." Briach stood and turned to the west.