Ventus | Page 7

but their voices were drowned by a tumbling, roaring, and shrieking mass of life descending on the battle lines.
"It was the sulphur," he said quietly. "They smelled the sulphur and became angry at us. It was okay as long as we were cutting each other up. Beating each other to death. But the smoke..." Jordan relived a feeling of terrible helplessnness, as he watched both armies dissolve under a tumult of fur, feather and scale. Only a few stragglers and quick horsemen escaped. The steam cannon exploded with ringing bangs, and mist and sulphur clouds hung low for many minutes until, drifting away, they revealed an encampment of the dead. The animals slunk away into the hills, shaking the bloody fur of their backs as they passed the stunned witnesses.
"It's okay, you're safe," Allegri was saying. Jordan came to himself to find the priest at his side, arm around his shoulder. He realized he was shaking. "It wasn't your fault."
"But I was the one on the hill. The one who gave the order!"
Allegri shook him gently. "What are you saying? That you got up in the middle of the night, grew some centimeters and an army, and commanded the battle yourself? It's more likely that you've been using that fantastic imagination of yours," laughed the priest. "Maybe you heard something last night, from Castor or his men. After all, he might have the news from some other source. Did you maybe sit on near some conversation last night, that you maybe didn't realize you were listening in on? Some word or phrase you caught, that came back to you as you were going to sleep?"
Jordan shook his head. "I went straight home." He wiped at his eyes.
Allegri stood up and started to pace. "The semaphore said there was a battle yesterday, near a town called Andorson. Everyone died, it said. We looked at that and didn't understand it. Everyone died? But who won? What you've just said clears it up. It could be this was a true vision you had."
"A vision?"
The priest chewed on a fingernail, ignoring Jordan. "A vision, for the son of a mason. Won't this upset the applecart. Do we tell Turcaret and Castor. No... no, that wouldn't do at all."
Jordan stood up and grabbed Allegri's arm. "What's going on? What's this about visions?"
Allegri scowled. He was more animated than Jordan had ever seen him. "You know some people can talk to the Winds. Turcaret claims the power; it runs in his family." Jordan nodded. The whole foundation of sensible government was men like Turcaret, who had a proven connection to the Winds, hence the authority to guide the hands of economics and bureaucracy. "The Winds often speak in visions," said Allegri. "Or dreams. But they rarely speak to someone of your class."
"What does that mean? Am I like Castor?" The thought was absurd; Castor was hereditary Salt Inspector for this province. His pedigree was ancient.
"I admit it's unusual, but most of the great families got their start with somebody like yourself, you know." Allegri pointed towards the church. "Let's talk in there."
"Why?" asked Jordan as he followed the rapidly walking priest.
Allegri shook his head, mumbling something. "It's a shame," he said as Jordan caught up with him.
"What do you mean, a shame? This means our family could get a government post, doesn't it?" Was that really the voice of some spirit that had entered his dreams last night? The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. Jordan found himself laughing, a bit hysterically.
"Am I going to get my own manor house?" As he said it, he realized something: "But I don't want that!"
As they entered the church, Allegri frowned at Jordan. "Good," he said. "I had higher hopes for you--you've always been inquisitive. A lot of the ideas you've spoken to me about are like ones from the very books Turcaret bans. I'd hoped you would show an interest in the priesthood. After all, it's the one thing you could legally do besides being a mason."
They stood now in the pillared space of the church. Allegri gestured at the cross that hung between the tall windows at its far end.
"If Turcaret and his like had their way, this place would not exist," Allegri said, gesturing around.
"What do you mean?"
"Turcaret and his kind have power because they claim--claim, mind you, that's all--to know the will of the Winds who rule this world. All they know, really, is merely how far the Winds can be pushed before they push back. The Inspectors and Controllers use that knowledge to control the affairs of men. They claim to serve Man; really, they serve either the Winds, or themselves. And those who serve the Winds, do not serve God.
"Jordan, I hope you don't become such a one. Whatever the Winds tell you,