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corpse of a decadent Empire. For them Anderle remained real.
The roads were paved, and scrupulously clean, as were the people upon them.
But ghosts of worry occasionally slid across their scrubbed native faces. The
grain fields flanking the roads were garden-perfect. The peasants working them
were cheerful and friendly. The highborn did not scorn to answer their
greetings, nor to pause to chat amiably.
"Pride," said Rogala. "That's what you see. Pride not only in what Anderle
was, but in what she is and might be again. Every man has his contribution to
make.''
And a little later, Rogala observed, "The germ is here. If fate stays its
hand. If a genius appears among the merely competent Emperors who keep the
dream alive, they might achieve their goal. They might see their new Imperium,
their new Golden Age." He sounded wistful.
Gathrid was impressed by the obvious health of the people. In Torun, and even
more so in Senturia, ill-health had been common.
He was more impressed when they passed through the wide, tunnel-like portal of
the Maurath. The Maurath was the last and greatest of the outer fortresses. It
bestrode the head of the Causeway like a squatting colossus. It was not just a
fortification. It contained all the Imperium's war offices, and the
headquarters of Yedon Hildreth and his Guards Oldani, who formed the backbone
of the Imperial army.
That one structure was half the size of the city of Katich. Twenty thousand
men could quarter there comfortably in time of siege. The passage to the
Causeway was a quarter mile long.
The Causeway itself was fifty yards wide and two miles long, stone, and
divided into directional lanes which separated the various classes of traffic
for flow efficiency. As Gathrid and Rogala were obviously foreigners, a polite
soldier cut them out of traffic and explained a few of Sartain's ordinances.
For example, they would be responsible for cleaning up after their animals. He
pointed out orange containers, with tools racked beside them, which, he said,
could be found everywhere.
A wagon piled with containers, empty, passed inbound. Then another appeared,
bound outward, presumably to the farms.
"The cleaning crews are paid from fines levied on people who don't clean up
after themselves," the soldier said. "Most of our block magistrates enjoy
fining foreigners."
Rogala grumbled something uncomplimentary. After he and Gathrid asked a few
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questions, they moved on.
"There've been a lot of changes," the dwarf observed. "None of those
fortresses were there before. Guess they built them because the Hattori and
Oldani managed to force the Causeway back when. In the high days Sartain
didn't need defenses. All the fighting took place so far away it took half a
year to reach it. The Causeway wasn't half this wide, either.''
"Looks like they're building another one." Several miles to their west a fleet
of boats were busy around what looked like cofferdams. Huge dumps of stone and
timber lay on either shore. On the mainland side workmen were laying the
foundations of a second Maurath.
"They need it." The Causeway was crowded. Moreover, Sartain's expansion seemed
to have been in the direction of the new construction. Reaching the mainland
from those extremities would require a long journey through crowded streets.
The straits were dotted with ferries providing shortcuts, especially for
produce and goods.
Gathrid wished he could have come to Sartain as a tourist, not as Swordbearer.
Already he had questions and curiosities enough to busy him for weeks, even
without the worries and obligations of politics and war.
"Even the Immortal Twins would be impressed," Tureck Aarant observed. It was
the first he had come forward since Gathrid and Theis had crossed the Ondr at
Avenevoli. He had been locked away with his memories and his guilt.
"Blame Grellner, not yourself," Gathrid told him now.
Rogala looked at him queerly. "What did you say?"
"Uh? Oh. I was thinking about something." He had to be more careful. He had
not told Theis about Aarant, and did not intend to. Aarant might provide a
valuable edge later. "Doesn't seem to be much excitement about us," he said.
"I noticed. I guess we're early, what with us leaving Torun in such a rush. It
isn't politeness that's kept us from being trampled by people from the Hills.
And for sure Hildreth wouldn't let us wander around without keepers."
"Might be useful to stay anonymous while we can," Gathrid suggested.
"Absolutely. We both need a rest. But we tend to stand out.''
They stood out not only because Rogala was a shaggy dwarf who carried a
talking head, and because Gathrid wore bits of foreign armor and had two huge
black swords Xed across his back, but because they were going armed in a city
where the only weapons to be seen were those carried by soldiers. Unlike the
Alliance peoples of ruder kingdoms farther east, among whom even peasants felt
naked without their dirks, the citizens of Sartain shunned personal arms. It
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