There was a rumble of agreement to that. The Greatcoats had never been popular in Rijou, for the people had always seen themselves as a separate city state and heartily disliked being subject to the rule of a man hundreds of miles away.
‘But if you’ll forgive me, I do know something of the laws of Rijou itself.’
The Duke laughed. ‘You would tell us our own laws, Trattari? A man will pay a high price for listening to your lies – a high price indeed for any man here today who acts upon your words.’ This last he directed straight at the silent crowd.
‘It is a high price to remember your laws,’ I said, speaking to the assembled audience. ‘His Lordship is quite correct. But that same price was paid by your own ancestors, by the men and women who built this city, who fought for it, died for it, bled into the very stone beneath your feet. Their blood seeped into the Teyar Rijou for hundreds of years as they fought off attackers from the north, from the south, the east and the west, so that today you might stand on it, that your children and grandchildren might stand on it, and feel something stronger than rock beneath their feet. People of Rijou, your blood – your courage – is the alloy that makes this place strong, that binds you to the Rock. For that is what you are: you are the true Rock of Rijou. You have turned back every enemy for a thousand years and more because, even when you were lawless, there was always one law that held. Your law.’
I drew a breath and then said the words: ‘No man breaks the Rock.’
A smattered cheer broke out somewhere, and I thought I heard a few old-timers muttering the phrase back at me: ‘No man breaks the Rock.’
‘No man breaks the Rock,’ I repeated. ‘But look into your neighbour’s eyes and tell me what you see. Do you see the Rock there?’
I didn’t wait for a response but shook my head sadly. ‘No, you see fear. Fear has taken hold of this city, and it has been wearing it away, not just in your time, but in your mother’s time, in your father’s time. Look into the eyes of your children and you will see the fear there, too, taking root. And what will become of their children, your grandchildren? Fear has struck the Rock, and year after year it strikes again, like rushing water, wearing it away. Look beneath your feet. Do you see how fear begins to erode the Rock? How many more years of Ganath Kalila before the Rock is worn away? How many more Blood Weeks before the Rock is no longer in your hearts?
‘No man breaks the Rock,’ I said.
‘No man breaks the Rock!’ I heard a woman yell. ‘No man breaks the Rock!’
I saw the Duke whisper into Shiballe’s ear and the little man stepped down from the dais and spoke to one of the guards, who took one of his fellows and began pushing through the crowd to where that call had come from.
‘And look,’ I shouted, ‘here comes fear once again, worming its way through the cracks in the Rock. Watch: they are pushing through you to take that woman – and for what? For treason? For murder? For theft? No, they come to take her for speaking the first law of Rijou. Will they take her from you? And if so, will others fear to speak the words upon which your city is built? And if that fear carries to your children, will they live their whole lives without speaking it? And if they never speak it, will your grandchildren grow to adulthood never knowing the words? Do you even remember the words? Do you even remember your own first law?’
‘No man breaks the Rock,’ an old man shouted from deep inside the crowd. ‘Take me! Come and take me away, damn your black hearts! You can break my old bones. You can break my neck. But no man breaks the Rock!’
‘No man breaks the Rock!’ came the cheer. ‘No man breaks the Rock!’
‘No man breaks the Rock,’ I agreed, holding up my hands for quiet. ‘The Duke is your lawful ruler,’ I said. ‘I am a Magister, and I have no say over who rules you, or whom you allow to rule you. The Khunds to the east claimed to rule you, didn’t they? What happened to them?’
‘They met the Rock!’ came a shout from somewhere to my right.
‘And the Lords of Orison: they came south with their armies and said Rijou was theirs too, didn’t they? What happened to those armies, I wonder?’
‘They met the Rock!’
‘And the barbarians from Avares, to the west? They have skirmished along your borders many times, have they not? And one day they will come again and throw their hordes against this city: rank upon rank of fighting men armed with swords and clubs and spears. Do not fool yourselves: the men of Avares fear neither death nor mutilation. Their bloodthirsty warriors are bred on battle and bathed in the blood of their enemies and they will come back one day soon, of that you can be sure. And what then, when they do?’
‘THEY WILL MEET THE ROCK!’
I could see Shiballe speaking to more of the guards, issuing orders to the captains. There looked to be some hesitation there.
‘They will meet the Rock,’ I agreed, once the noise had died down. ‘But only if the Rock is still here.’
The crowd didn’t look happy at that suggestion, but I continued, ‘Your Duke – your lawful ruler – has brought you Ganath Kalila. It is a tradition from the East, not from here.’
There was some angry murmuring; a great many people remembered when there was no Blood Week.
‘He says it makes you strong. I ask you, when you sit hiding in your homes as assassins openly wander the streets, do you feel strong?’
Silence.
‘When you hear your neighbours being pulled from their beds and slaughtered in the night, do you feel strong?’
More silence, but the anger was palpable now.
‘This girl,’ I said, taking Aline’s hand and raising it, ‘this girl’s family was taken from her, each and every one of them, and slain – not in battle, for that is not the way of Ganath Kalila. Instead, men came – men dressed in black, wearing no family crest. They boarded up the family’s home – before the Blood Week had even begun. The guards didn’t stop them. The Duke didn’t stop them. You didn’t stop them.’ I choked for a moment before saying, ‘I didn’t stop them.
‘And now they are dead, and this girl is alone in this world. And despite that – despite all that, she is standing here now, fulfilling the Duke’s law – fulfilling your law. She could have fled, but she would not. Instead, she stands here upon the Rock of Rijou.’
I pointed to the Duke. ‘Your Lord says he can make the laws as he sees fit, and so Ganath Kalila will see one more sunrise, one more sunset. And why should you complain? For he adds just one more day to the Blood Week – just one more day. I will tell you this: I have travelled the length and breadth of this land a dozen times over, and in every part of the country, in every town and village and hamlet, and even here in Rijou, a week is seven days. And yet already Ganath Kalila – the Blood Week – lasts nine days! And so now it will be ten – and next year? And the year after that? The Duke says Ganath Kalila makes you strong. Think how strong you’ll be when every day of the year is Ganath Kalila!’
A dozen of the Duke’s men were pushing and shoving their way through the mass of men and women between us. The crowd was densely packed, but while their progress was slow, it was steady. We were running out of time. I looked down at Aline for a moment before turning back to the crowd. ‘This young girl is a small thing, no bigger than your own children. She weighs barely as much as a mug of ale on a dry day. And so I must ask you, will the Rock take her weight? Or will it break under the pressure of your fears?’