Free Cry of the Newborn by James Barclay Page A

town from the viewpoint of the forum. He would need to tour the two central streets, both of which led into the forum. A visit to a villa on the valley side and the House of Masks would also be necessary. The work of two hours, no more. Then a long night listening to the wailings of people with no idea how the Conquord operated.
    Jhered set off across the forum, gesturing people from his path and assuming Yuran and Gorsal would fall into step with him. Never a bad thing to have the local leaders trot to catch up. The good people of Gull's Ford might respect them but it was right they understood who was the real voice of authority. Atreska was a proud and powerful nation but it was foremost a servant of the Estorean Conquord.
    He walked down the centre of a once neat cobbled street. Pavements and gutter were choked with debris, drains were clogged and the stains where blood had dried were cloaked by flies. Left and right, dark holes where windows had been were framed by smoke-blackened walls. Roofing tiles had cracked and tumbled in the heat of the fires that had ravaged building upon building along the terrace of shops and businesses.
    The smells were as acrid and bitter as the mood of the citizenry. Pacing deliberately along the street, his metal-shod boots ringing on the cobbles, Jhered could call to mind the terror that had blown through Gull's Ford. These people were not soldiers. A most unfortunate event. By no means the first that had afflicted Atreska during the Tsardon campaign and certainly not the last.
    'We are almost a hundred miles from the Tsardon border,' said Gorsal, reading his thoughts. 'We are only a day from Haroq. Yet they attacked us in broad daylight. The Tsardon were our friends. Your war has made them unnecessary enemies. I had people killed by those with whom they used to trade and drink. You know why they do it, don't you? And you know why they have said they will return.'
    'Because they are desperate. It is a common enough tactic among those losing a war. Atreska employed it too. You are relatively new members of the Conquord. The scars of the wars that led to your annexation by Estorea are fresh in the minds of many. And they feel that they can undermine your faith in the Conquord by such actions.'
    'With some success,' said Gorsal shortly, glancing up at Jhered and meeting his firm gaze. 'You felt the mood. What are we supposed to think? What are we supposed to do? Your hawks will find that the tax levied on us left us with no proper funds to maintain our militia. We relied on volunteers and rusting weapons. The results are all around you.'
    Jhered was silent for a short time. ‘I expect you to agree that you have never been more prosperous. That the Conquord has given you economic stability and a better potential to improve yourselves should that be your desire. And I expect you to believe that the Conquord will bring you peace and security.'
    'When? I see no prosperity. And what good is it anyway to those burned to ashes?' Gorsal gestured at the ruins of the street. 'How many more times will we be chased from our homes, helpless to defend ourselves?'
    Jhered stopped walking and faced her.
    'I was brought up in a border state. I lived in a village that suffered raids. And like you, nobody asked me or my people whether we wanted to be a member of the Conquord. We were defeated in war, just as you and all the provinces of Atreska have been. Like me, you have to live with the reality and know that your futures are assured under the Conquord in a way they would never be with your haphazard trade and treaties with Tsard.
    'The Conquord will provide. Until then, I regret your losses and those you may still suffer. Staffing border forts is not the only way to ensure safety. Mind that your ruler is genuinely giving you all the protection he can. That is his responsibility.'
    Yuran choked, or sounded like it. Jhered gazed down at him, unwavering.
    'You have something to say, Marshal?'
    'Exchequer Jhered,