He shook his head. “Not now. If I had no responsibilities, possibly. It might enable me to repair my spirit, purge Harthenham from my psyche. But I intend to see this rebellion through. So long as you, Jason, and Galloran stand, I’ll stand with you.” He took a deep breath, looking around and rubbing the back of his neck. “My people despise me. My lives have run out. I don’t belong here anymore. I have no future here. But it still hurts to leave. I miss these vales. I would have liked to see my cottage one last time.”
“You still might,” Rachel said.
“It’s nowhere near our path.”
“I mean afterward.”
He squinted at her. “A whole lot needs to happen between now and then. Including an improbable amount of me not dying. I thought I’d bid these valleys farewell once before. I’d rather say good-bye again, then let it be a welcome surprise if I get to return.”
Rachel thought about her home. Was she crazy to believe she would make it back there? She had to see her parents again. She couldn’t lose faith, whether or not Drake thought their future looked bleak. “Hope isn’t bad.”
“Depends on the person,” Drake replied. “If it works for you, use it. Ready?”
With a brief Edomic phrase, Rachel told her horse to head back to camp. Drake used heels and reins to similarly encourage his mount. She urged the mare to run, and enjoyed the cool wind in her face.
Back at camp, everyone was prepping to hike into the mountains. They all wore the robes of the Amar Kabal and carried heavy winter traveling cloaks. They expected to forage most of their food, but several people still carried packs loaded with nonperishable rations.
Besides Farfalee, five other seed people had joined the delegation. One was a young woman, Delissa, who stood half a head shorter than Farfalee and seldom spoke. The four other men included Nollin, the nephew of Naman, who bore an unmistakable resemblance to his uncle and had served for several lifetimes as his chief advisor. Farfalee had quietly informed Rachel that Nollin was along to help assure that even the most cynical seedfolk would believe the report sent from Mianamon. The other seedmen were named Kerick, Halco, and Andrus, all three reputedly proven warriors and huntsmen.
Galloran no longer accompanied them. He, Dorsio, and their accompanying seedmen had bid the delegation farewell at Roundvale, on their way to East Gate and eventually to Felrook.
“How was the joy ride?” Jason asked as Rachel dismounted.
“There’s a beautiful view of Roundvale from here. The valley looked full of whipped cream.”
“It’s probably better that I didn’t look. Chilled berries in cream was my favorite dish here. I already miss it.”
“Looks like we’re almost ready to go?”
Jason nodded. “Are you going to tell your horse to meet us at the tundra?”
“That might not be very kind,” Rachel said, even though she knew he was kidding. “I bet she’d try. She’s earned a break in a safe place.”
“Too bad we can’t say the same,” Jason sighed.
Not far from Rachel, Drake was transferring gear from his horse into a backpack. Nollin sauntered over to him, a tall walking stick in hand. “Well-timed arrival,” Nollin congratulated. “You managed to skip all of the work.”
“I figured you could use the practice,” Drake said without looking at him. “It takes more skills than speechwriting to survive in the backcountry.”
Nollin’s nostrils flared. “I suppose I have much to learn. Perhaps you can instruct me how to secure food and drink by bowing to Maldor?”
Drake straightened, his expression relaxed. “Based on your politics, I assumed he was already paying you handsomely.”
Nollin glanced sideways and noticed Rachel and Jason watching. “There is a significant difference between recommending defensive strategies to protect your people and betraying them by kneeling to the emperor.”
Drake nodded. “You have a point. I was only killing myself.”
“Seedmen have long been recognized as incorruptible,” Nollin said. “We are unerringly true to ourselves and our people. No seedman in history ever openly accepted a bribe from the enemy. You tarnished the unblemished reputation of—”
“I wearied of fighting the emperor without the support of my countrymen,” Drake shot back, finally losing his temper. The heated discussion was beginning to draw the attention of others in the camp. “How many manglers have you slain? How many conscriptors? How many displacers? I was invited to Harthenham for a reason. Believe me, our reputation was destroyed long before I dined there. You haven’t been abroad in decades. We’re known across the continent as the cravens cowering in the mountains.”
“The rest of Lyrian suffers while we prosper,” Nollin said defensively. “Let them mock. Soon there won’t be any scoffers left.”
Drake shook his head. “The servants of the emperor scoff the loudest, and with the least fear of reprisal. Make no mistake. Under the policies you’ve supported, they’ll have the last laugh.”
“Prudence is not cowardice. If we had declared war against Felrook, we would no longer exist!”
“It’s only a benefit to have a long life if it’s worth living! If we insist on survival, we could always try winning.”
“This from the one seedman who ever surrendered!” Nollin laughed. “The only one who sold his honor to live at Harthenham.”
“Who has less virtue—the man who fought until the lack of support killed his spirit or the man who never fought?”
“You’re very noble,” Nollin mocked. “I’ll admit, while you fought, I gave you no support. You had one thing right when you went to Harthenham—nobody is going to stop the emperor! The rest of Lyrian lost the war long ago. The war has been over for years.”
“Then why are you here?” Drake growled.
“I’m here to assure an honest report reaches the Conclave. I’m here to watch the oracle confirm what those of us who haven’t spent the last thirty years in a stupor already know. There is no hope for a rebellion. Brave words can’t change that. Neither can bold actions. Neither can Beyonders or orantium or throneless kings with inflated reputations. This journey will only be worth the trouble in order to finally have the matter settled.”
“Don’t disrespect better men than you,” Drake warned.
“Why not?” Nollin replied. “You do it all the time.”