The Wall | Page 4

meters of the ledge that jutted out from the sheer face of smooth stone.
It was Sartas, though, who was clearly the most committed. The others would occasionally falter, pausing every now and then to look down onto the desert where the company's tents lay pitched. Through his spyglass Tavarius could see their faces, and the longing in their eyes, and knew they weren't long for the Wall. Soon they'd give in to the seductive shade of the tents, enticed by prospects of a respite from the oven heat of the Wall. But in Sartas there was no such yearning. He remained stoic, marching endlessly back and forth over his small section of the Wall, stamping his feet loud and strong at each turn, and ignoring the sweat that rolled down from beneath his tight metal helm.
"It makes me hot and tired just looking at him," Karn complained. He drank deeply of his wine, then thumped his chest to elicit a noisy belch. "There should be a law against it."
"He does the King's bidding, my friend," Tavarius chortled.
"And are we not doing the King's bidding?" Karn demanded with mock indignation. "Do we not suffer this wretched watered wine, and the grit of sand in our food for the whim of a king? Do we not endure this unbearable heat simply to assuage the fears of the public?"
"There's the coin and the honor," Tavarius reminded him.
"Ah, yes! Such honor. And the coin!" Karn snorted and made a face. "One gold sovereign at the end of six months."
"Better pay than any ship hand or common sentry."
"But a ship hand has a regular port, and the sentry returns home each day to wife and hot food. No watered wines for him. No sand filled stew for his delicate palate."
"Think of the prestige," Tavarius said.
Karn's face brightened. "There's that," he agreed. "Many's the time I've lifted a free pint of the ale in the taverns. And it's certain that a walker of the Wall can have his choice of women to warm his bed, should he so fancy."
"Which is no doubt why I see your ugly face out here year after year," Tavarius grumped good-naturedly.
"Well, it ain't the scenery." Karn looked out towards the Wall. "The Gods only know that I tire of seeing that cursed blight of stone. I grow weary of wondering what's beyond, and why it is that we sit here waiting for something that may never come."
"Perhaps there are others on the other side wondering much the same," Tavarius suggested.
"You think so?" Karn looked doubtful. He scratched his beard and studied the Wall with a shrewd eye. "I wonder that no one has ever tried going over," he mused.
"Because you know as well as I that none would dare tempt the fates. Legend and myth forbid it. Those who would hazard to cross the wall shall bring down upon the lands of Cysteria the wrath of the Gods," Tavarius pronounced, without a great deal of conviction.
"Whatever that might be," Karn muttered irreverently.
"I fear the Wall has made you cynical and rebellious, my friend."
"The wall has made me something," Karn growled in a surly manner. "But it's the King who sends me here to spend six months without good food or drink or women."
"He's the King, and he can do as he sees fit."
"Perhaps were he to spend a tour of duty out here he'd change his view of things."
"It's not our place to judge the likes of the King," Tavarius said sarcastically.
"Of course," Karn agreed, rolling his eyes. "And heaven forbid that he should ever be wrong."
"His word is god, so long as he sits upon the throne."
"Perhaps, then, it's time for someone else to sit upon it."
Tavarius feigned shock. "Such blasphemy."
"None that you haven't heard before." Karn poured himself more wine. "And none you won't hear again, I venture." He lifted his goblet and pointed with it to the Wall. "They'll soon weary of this nonsense and join us."
"Perhaps," said Tavarius. He raised his spyglass to his eye again and peered towards the Wall. He knew it so well after all these years -- each inch of its perfection. And yet, he didn't really know it at all; for it remained as much a mystery to him now as it had when he'd been the age of Sartas. No doubt it would remain thus, until he no longer walked the Wall.
******
By the second week the first of the new recruits had abandoned principle for the comfort of the shade. He was greeted in the camp with much cheer from the veterans, who plied him with wine and food, and treated him as though he were a hero. Tavarius watched all this with amusement, as he had time and time before. But when he looked up to the Wall he saw