The Wall | Page 7

night like the lights of a city seen
from afar.
Tavarius squatted down by the fire, across from Sartas, the steaming
pot of cha between them. "Mind?" he asked, indicating the pot.
"We're all brothers here," Sartas replied evenly.
Tavarius took a metal cup from his belt and held it towards the pot. He
used his knife to tilt the pot, letting the hot brew slosh into his cup. "A
beautiful evening," he remarked casually as he brought the cha to his
lips and blew on it. The steam bent and fluttered under the impetus of
his breath, then rose straight again in the windless air. He could feel the

heat of it against his face; and he wondered what he was doing sitting
up here drinking hot cha in the sweltering heat of the desert when he
should have been down there enjoying wine and the companionship of
his fellow guards.
"They think me a fool," said Sartas abruptly. He didn't lift his gaze as
he spoke.
"Yes," Tavarius agreed. He glanced at the younger man, an apologetic
look in his eye. "They don't understand why you remain up here, when
it's so obvious there's no threat."
"Is it so obvious, Tavarius?" Now Sartas turned and stared at the old
guard. "Is what we do here really so empty of meaning?"
Tavarius considered this for a moment. "The Wall has stood for longer
than recorded time," he said at length. "In all those centuries there has
never been one reported case of attack."
"Then you believe the threat for which it was built no longer exists?"
"Perhaps there was never a threat to begin with, lad."
Sartas snorted dismissively. "You talk nonsense," he growled. "What
king would order the construction of such a thing if it were to serve no
purpose?"
"I never said it was built for no reason."
"Walls are meant to keep things out," Sartas pronounced with finality.
"Or keep things in."
"Cysteria is not a prison!"
"Perhaps not now--though there are many definitions of prison."
Sartas shook his head vigorously. "The Wall is here to protect, as are
we."

"I agree the Wall is here to protect," said Tavarius soberly. "But to
protect what? The people? The land? Or perhaps the King and his
minions."
"Some would brand your words as treason," Sartas said with a frown of
reproach.
"We've lived in fear for centuries," Tavarius observed. "Centuries of
rule by kings, who have preyed on that fear to maintain control of the
land and its people."
"I don't believe it," Sartas said, a dark scowl across his face. "The Wall
was built to protect us from a great evil."
"Which never came. Which never has, lad. And we've walked this
stone for centuries in anticipation. Perhaps the only evil was the evil of
anarchy. Perhaps the Wall brought order where none had been before.
Perhaps the Wall, merely in its existence, brought purpose. It made
people believe in the need for kings and armies at a time when they
needed to. And now they can't stop believing."
"What if you're wrong, Tavarius? What if there's an army awaiting
beyond, even as we speak?"
"Then will a wall and a handful of guards really stop them, Sartas?"
Tavarius chuckled softly and shook his head. "We're here to maintain
the illusion. The King is strong so long as there is a perceived threat
and he is seen to be doing something about it."
"And what of the voices?" Sartas grinned triumphantly, believing that
he'd won a point.
"We've all heard them at one time or another," Tavarius admitted. "But
they could as like be the wind as not. The conversations of other
guardians carried from other outposts."
"They weren't the wind!" Sartas declared. "And they weren't the Sun,"
he added.

Tavarius stared at him pityingly.
"You're too cynical and distrusting," Sartas insisted, simmering with
rage.
"Age will do that to a man," said Tavarius. "Age and the Wall. But I
don't actively seek to be these things. I know only that I've walked
these walls for years, as did my father, and his father, and his father's
father, down through the centuries, to ancestors whose names I don't
even know. I would wish my son a better fate than this." He threw the
last of his cha into the fire with an angry motion of disdain.
"We must be vigilant," Sartas insisted.
"Yes, we must. But not here, lad. Not on this wall. We must be vigilant
against those who would use us, who would play us like puppets on
strings, manipulating us for their own ends."
"If you believe these things you say, then why do you come?"
"Because I have family, lad. A wife and children who must be cared
for."
"For coin, then."
"For coin."
"You