The Wall | Page 8

have no doubts."
Tavarius grinned wanly. "There are always doubts," he said. "As I said:
I, too, have heard the voices."
Sartas blinked. "You hear the evidence," he said, "and yet still you
claim there's no threat."
"They're only voices, lad." Tavarius sighed and shook his head. "But as
like as not they're the imaginings of lonely men."
"Or armies massing to launch an assault."

"And waiting so long to do it?" Tavarius scoffed. He chuckled dryly,
mocking this notion. "I first heard them more than twenty years ago,
Sartas. And before that, my father had heard them. And his father. Men
have stood on this stone and heard them for as long as I've known. No
army would wait centuries to launch an assault."
"They're not the wind," Sartas insisted angrily. "And they're not the
imaginings of a lonely man."
It was dark now, and Tavarius stared into the fire, his face illumined by
the yellow-orange flames, eyes deep with shadows. "Your words may
well be true, young Sartas," he said gently. "Perhaps no wind speaks
thus; and I'll admit the imaginings of the lonely man tend to the
pleasures of the flesh more often than not."
"Then tell me what it is we've hear," said Sartas eagerly.
Tavarius turned about and looked towards the Wall. He stared at it,
then lifted his gaze to the summit that seemed to merge with the sky.
Only the stars distinguished stone from night.
"Perhaps," he said, "those voices belong to the mirror of ourselves.
Perhaps beyond that wall there are other men like us, doing the bidding
of their king. Old men, like myself, who come for coin; and young men,
like you, Sartas," --and he glanced at the younger guard-- "who come
out of some misguided sense of duty, honestly believing in the task
they've been assigned. Perhaps these reflections of ourselves also drink
watered wine and wallow half drunk in the cool shade of tents, whiling
away the six months of an onerous tour. Perhaps they, too, have wives
and children and homes they long for in their daily dreams. It's possible
they even sit about fires, as we do, pondering voices they've heard and
the senselessness of this wall that divides the here from the there."
"If what you say is true, wouldn't they have ventured over to see the
truth?"
Tavarius favored him with an amused look. "Have we?" he asked.

"Perhaps it's time we did."
"That is for our King and the people to decide," said Tavarius more
seriously.
"But all that you've said--"
"I come for coin, Sartas. I come because of a wife and children whom I
wish to see enjoy life as life should be enjoyed. It isn't my place to
answer the questions scholars have pondered for years and for which
kings have had neither the courage nor the inclination to resolve for
centuries."
"Aren't you even curious to know the truth?"
"The truth?" Tavarius laughed. "Does it matter what the truth is?
Would any believe us if they knew it?" He shook his head. "No, it
serves the purposes of all that things remain as they are. The King
maintains control of the realm. The citizens remain at peace, knowing
they're protected against the evil that is beyond. And we, who have
walked this stone for as long as recorded time, get our coin and our
glory, however undeserved."
"But what about them?" Sartas demanded, pointing down to the camp.
"I've heard them, grumbling and complaining and wanting nothing
more than to be done with this. And you yourself have said that few if
any believe and take pride in what they do."
"But we do it, Sartas. And for all our words, we'll continue to do it.
Because it's what we do. It's the purpose in our lives, however much we
may wish it otherwise. Without the Wall what would we be? We were
raised for this. From the time we were but boys barely able to carry a
spear we've constructed our lives to serve this one thing."
"Then without the Wall we're nothing," whispered Sartas.
Tavarius nodded, grim-faced. "And they all know it too, in their
hearts," he said, gesturing towards the camp. "Our world wouldn't be

the same without the Wall. It has made Cysteria what it is today.
Perhaps that's what it's builders intended."
"Then it's as simple as all that," said Sartas, lifting his arms wide in
frustration.
"Need it be more complicated?"
"But there'll never be an end to it!"
Tavarius smiled and pushed himself erect, until he was standing
looking down upon the young guard. "In the entire world I know of but
two certainties, lad. One is death. The other is the Wall."
"You've given me much to think about," said Sartas.
The old guard