Free Across the Face of the World by Russell Kirkpatrick Page B

half-baked story,' Mahnum said, lowering his voice. 'The rumours are true. Bhrudwo is preparing for war. That knowledge alone is enough to mark me for death in the minds of those who pursue me. But I know more, much more; more than my pursuers know themselves. And this knowledge must be delivered to the King. Though what he'll do with it.. .' The Trader shook his head.
    'The old King is dead, Mahnum. He died a month ago. The Prince is not yet old enough to claim the throne, and Wisula has acceded as Regent. The news arrived at the village not three weeks since.'

    Mahnum stared at his wife, aghast. 'Wisula? How could they?' He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh. 'Wisula! Oh Lord Most High! This changes everything.'
    Hal stood up and approached his foster father. 'What did you find out in Bhrudwo? Whatever it is, you've suffered for it. Tell us. Let us share the burden.'
    For a long time the tall Trader struggled for words; and when they finally came, they were brought forth in a low, measured monotone that Leith struggled to hear even in the quiet of Midwinter's Night.
    'The fireside stories are true. Bhrudwo is the ancient enemy. I still have to remind myself of that. I was there for a year, I lived among people just like us. Fathers and mothers who love their sons and daughters. Neighbours who do kind things for each other. Villages, cities and even whole countries who try to resist the worst of what the Destroyer seeks to impose on them. Good people, decent people, in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are our enemy not because they are evil, but because a fire is being lit under these good people that will send them surging across Faltha's green fields. The brown-cloaked hordes are set to return, along with the Maghdi killers and, eventually, the Destroyer himself.
    'I was taught - you were taught - that the fabled Invasion from the east a thousand years ago could never happen again. I remember my father teaching me that a thousand years of peace bore witness that never again would Bhrudwo rise above its own internal prob¬lems to unite in an invasion of Faltha. That all we had to worry about were the greed and pride of the petty kings and lords of Faltha, and next winter's weather, with the latter far more import¬ant than the former. But my father was wrong.
    'We've grown complacent, we provincials living at the west end of the world. While we squabble over problems as weighty as who will hold next year's Midsummer celebrations, Bhrudwo is amassing a mighty army that will be pointed at the heart of Faltha. And I am the only loyal Falthan who knows their plans.
    'I journeyed to Bhrudwo in anger, believing it to be a futile and empty mission. Spy out the land, ascertain whether Bhrudwo threatens the peace of Faltha, and report back to the King.
    There seemed little hope of completing such a task. I might wander the land for years without seeing such evidence, yet not disprove its existence. Bhrudwo is such a vast land, stretching from ice through desert to jungle, and the paths a Falthan Trader may legally take are few.
    Nevertheless, I thought myself relatively safe on my journey, because no matter how ancient the hatred, people must live and Traders are needed. As I made my way into the huge land of Birinjh, I knew I was being watched closely. I expected that, but as long as I was careful, I anticipated no danger.
    'I was careful, but not careful enough. A few innocent ques¬tions in a few obscure villages, with no one able to connect them to me - or so I thought. Had anyone been approached about joining the army? Were people making more tradeable weapons? Did the Bhrudwan army need Falthan provisions? Questions of that sort. I made sure I spoke to nobody who might be part of the Bhrudwan spy network.
    'Then late one night came a knock at the door and 1 was led away to a damp wooden hut, Trader's Rights or no Trader's Rights. Three men, servants to the Lords of Fear, took turns putting me to the question. What was my