Ventus | Page 7

"We had the breeze to our advantage. My men set fire to some sort of
long tubes filled with... sulphur, I think. They made a horrible
reddish-yellow smoke." Jordan didn't want to talk about it any more,
but once he had started it was hard to stop. And Allegri was staring at
him as if he could force the story out of him by willpower alone. "The
smoke went over the Seneschals. They started to fall down, they
choked on it. The lines broke. We had time to regroup, we got ready to
charge."
"And then?"
Jordan swallowed. "And then the Winds came."
From the hillsides all around the battle scene, a cloud rose as the birds,
the bugs, the burrowing animals and the snakes, all rose and marched
into the valley. The grass itself began to twist and come to life, and the
earth trembled as great silvery boulders wrenched themselves out and
sprouted legs. The men and horses around Jordan milled in panic. He
could see they were screaming, 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.