Another sneak peek from the still untitled sequel to The Spear of Heaven

You know you want it. Or maybe you don't But here it is anyway. Enjoy!

The turn of the season in Kavril could be marked by a change in the winds. The warm summer winds from the south shifted to the colder winds from the north, blowing down from the Sea of Aoian and bringing with it hints of worse to come. Soon enough the winter storms wound come, howling dorm from the north, boiling the seas and keeping all ships and sailors on the safety of land. It was wort a mans life to go out in those conditions.

But for now it was calm enough, the cool winds bringing some relief from summers heat. Leaves were turning, the days were growing shorter. The news on the street spoke of many things...the war in Verrelin continued, the criers proclaimed that the great servari Tevrek was winning battle after battle, and soon enough would have the cowardly hill rats cornered, bringing to a fight to decide the matter once and for all. Most were willing to take this on face value, those who knew better kept their mouths shut. Rumors from the east...the Red King was besieging the citadel of Embbi, that he had the self-proclaimed Ebarom of Peleseb locked up like a bird in a cage and was merely waiting for the chance to make the killing blow. Entire provinces were scorched, it was claimed, in some places the ground could not be seen because of the dead bodies lying on them. There was little the street criers said about foreign affairs for now, but the Most Noble Kavrenn had said more than once that once the Red King had put down the rebellions flarin across his empire like mushrooms after a strong rain, surely he would turn his eyes west yet again, and settle accounts with the Anvarai once and for all?

So much speculation. But it was mingled with the usual day to day worries...the price of grain, whether the coming winter would be long or short, mild or cruel. And the never-ending surprise at how the city had changed. The growth of the League had meant more than mere military alliances...tariffs and tolls were reduced, or eliminated entirely. Across the South of Anvara, people were on the move, the roads crowded as never before. Merenai – citizens – of any League member would be welcomed within the cities and territory of another, and would not pay any taxes beyond that paid by their own people. People left their homes, seeking adventure and opportunity. Many of them came to Kavril, where the League Council met and its treasury was maintained. The population of the city had grown by least a quarter in the last decade, and new housing was spreading beyond the walls of Anlirov. The streets were filled with new accents, new faces, new customs, new ideas, new wealth.

The Kavrilai for heir part were divided on this. Some were uneasy about this...they remembered Kavril as it was, when it was just one city among many, albeit still bigger and richer than most, and wondered if something hadn’t been lost, if Kavrenn’s dreams were coming at too high a price. But others looked to the future, to the city that Kavril was becoming, and nothing but promise. More than just another pelvota, it was becoming something more...a capital fit for the South. Or all Anvara…why not? Those with open eyes and sharp ears could see where this was going, and how they might profit from it.

On this day, as cold widens came in from the harbor, a group of men on horseback entered the city. Their cloaks were mud spattered from the road – it had rained recently, and several of them were armed and had the look of bodyguards. They came in through the western gate of the city and proceeded to the Quarter of Sparrows, headed to a small secluded street where an ancient mansion stood, once faded and declining, now showing signs of fresh paint and workmen replacing worn old bricks with new ones fresh from the kiln. One of the riders dismounted and was greeted with much enthusiasm by a women and several small children.

“Come back this evening,” he told his escorts. “On foot. And send word to the House of the Arvelkiai than I am back.”

“As you will, Most Noble Sanvorin,” said one of the escorts, a man long in his service.

And with that, Sanvorin avret Hunerin, scion of an ancient house of Kavril, went inside to enjoy what little time had with his wife and children before duty called again.

“Sanvorin!”

Kavrenn stood and welcomed him with a smile. “Welcome back to civilization!”

Sanvorin forced a smile on his face as he entered Kavrenn’s study. The sound of hammering came down the hall behind behind him as workmen busies themselves adding a new wing to the place. “Has this place gotten bigger,” he asked. “Tomon’s Teeth, I swear every time I come here, you’ve doubled the size of your house.”

Kavrenn shrugged. “The more time passes, the more help I need. Every time I cme in, there are new faces scurrying about. Even I don’t know what they all do.”

“At this rate you’ll hve to buy out your neighbors...either that or gvi up what's heft of your garden.”

Kavrenn had the grace to look embarrassed. “Truth be told, I’m buying the houses on either side of this. The family to the left are more than willing – its an honor to sell the Most Noble Kavrenn! - but the old woman on the right s haggling like a fishwife over a fresh-caught mackerel. Wealthy beyond measure...but she hovers over every obod like its a newborn baby….right, enough of that, Take a seat.”

A long table lay in the center of the room. Sanvorin looked up at the ceiling, and saw an exquisite depiction of Tainara, the holy mountain that was the world in the beginning of time. The Two Gods of the beginning sat on their thrones at the peak, while the feranmiai gamboled about the slopes, all in a state of bliss. Very well done..he sat down, then had a look at the table. “This is new,” he said.

Painted on the table was a detailed map of Anvara, from the tip of Anlira down to Kavril, and the Long Coast across the straits. Every major city and down, every clan of important and their stronghold, the mountains, the forests, the rivers, the sea. A layer of lacquer covered the top, sealing the paint in and protecting it. Kavrenn sat down near the top and took a drink from a cuip. As he set it down, a few drops splashed on the table.

“Took the better part of a year to make,” Kavrenn said. “You wouldn't believe the cost. But worth it. Better than a regular map. Besides, one of my ambitions before I die is to take a piss on Kier! Until that day comes, I’ll settle for spilling my drink.” The drops of cider splashed on the top lay atop the image of Kier.”

Skivran entered, and placed a cup next to Sanvorin, Cider as well, though watered down a bit due to the early hour. “So, Kavrenn asked, “what news from Avan?”

Sanvorin placed the cup on the table, next to the stylized city marking the location of Ketova. “There is interesting in joining the League of Agelvan,” he said. “Three months of feasting and talking...they were almost ready to send a formal petition. Then the news came.”

“What news?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Obviously not, since I'm asking.”

Sanvorin turned the cup around in his fingers. “The Kierai have announced they are forming their own League,” he said. “The messengers came just before the Pevalia. The other cities in Conretea have joined…hardly a surprise there. And the ones in Anlira have declared for it as well.”

“At the point of Kier’s spears, no doubt!”

“It hardly matters in the end. The Anlirai dance to the tune of the Kierai. And the Ketovai are nervous. Kier’s envoy demanded they join this new League and expel all Kavrilai from Avan. The Ketovai said they would think about it. But that also means any thought of joining us is put aside as well.”

“We can protect them from Kier,” Kavrenn scoffed.

“Perhaps.” Sanvorin tapped a finger on the table, at the blue line marking the Givrali River, which was the border between Avan and Conretea. “But as one of their leaders pointed out, Kier is much closer to them than Kavril. And Tevrek is tied up in Verrelin with the army. It would take weeks to pull out from the current war and march our men north. The Kierai could be at their walls in a matter of days.”

“So they are joining this new League? The Avanai hate Kier.”

“I think they are trying to be neutral,” Sanvorin pointed out. “Neither one side of the other, perhaps playing us both. It’s the reasonable choice. At least until Kier sends its spears south.”

Kavrenn mulled this over. He might be the unquestioned leader of Kavril and the League, but he didn't do it all alone...all wolves ran in a pack, and Kavrenn had his own pack mates running alongside him. Tevrek and the army, of course. Lesovan the fleet, as well as the League treasury, and a growing interest in solutions that were best done out of the light of day. And when it came to diplomacy...Sanvorin.

It was Sanvorin who traveled to the cities of Kolevet and Heronti, who soothed the pride and concerns of their leaders with his perfect manners and honeyed words, Sanvorin who made the long journey to the Arvanis, making sure Kavrenn’s connection to the Aiotarin remained strong. Sanvorin who had visited every part of Anvara at least once, even ventured to Kier on an ultimately fruitless effort to maintain the old wartime alliance. Sanvorin was there when the League was founded, working behind the scenes, in the shadows of Kavrenn’s speeches, bringing minds into agreement, overseeing oaths mad in blood, the red drops falling onto sizzling coals as men swore to be loyal to the League and its leaders ‘for as long as the threat to the common good shall remain.’

And it was Sanvorin who made sure the League members were reminded of that threat, who kept alive the threat from the east, the possible return of the Red King. And for those who remained skeptical, it was Sanvorin who provided the ‘gifts’ that kept them sweet, those bags of silver coin that did what fear of the Orzarai could not. And it Sanvrin who made the promises of support...and there threats of what would happen should League members go astray, who learned the names of every man and woman who mattered in the important cities, and the names of their rivals, and who would arrive in the night to replace one with the other if needed.

Sanvorin looked down at the table, noting idly that the symbol for Kavril was at least three times the size of those for the other cities of the League. He glance up at the ceiling, and noted that one prominent feran had a face similar to that of Kavrenn’s. When he went about the hinterlands, it was Kavrenn men spoke of more than the League, and for growing numbers they were one and the same. Even more curious, very few seemed bothered by this.

Sanvorin for his part was nevous. In his heart her remained an old-fashioned Kavrilai aristocrat, born in a world where the avretiai governed the affairs of Evrenna as equals, where the First Speaker was just that, the first to speak, the first among equals. The authority Kavrenn wielded was different...he could persuade when needed, but increasingly he gave orders with the expecation they would be obeyed...and had yet to be proved wrong.

It bothered Sanvorin, on those rare occasions when he had the opportunity for reflections. And yet...his family prospered under the new arrangement. When Buredin began his tyranny, Sanvorin’s family were among the nobles who fled to Olavia for refuge, and there they remained, living in safety while their less fortunate countrymen suffered, who did nothing when Kavrenn and Tevrek led a desperate band of exiles to retake the city. Sanvorin, and great personal risk, and entered Evrenna before, and was there at the meeting beforehand, when rulership of the city after the fall of the Tyrant was decided. That alone saved his family’s honor, he later said. Since the he had prospered, his family’s influence had grown. His relations were married into other important families, not just in Kavril but across Anvara. He was known as a man who had Kavrenn’s ear, and was a man of influence in his own right.

It was a conundrum, and one Sanvorin felt he might never resolve. Best to focus on his duties, and leave the future to the will of Heaven and Earth.

“There’s more,” Sanvorin added. “Envoys from Idrelin have been seen in Kier The Kierai want them to join their League as well, and not all are hostile to the idea.”

Kavrenn waved the possibility away. “The Idrelinai a mob of bumpkins and rustics,” he said dismissively. “They have more sheep than people, and more trees than sheep. I don’t think it matters.”

“Not by itself, no.” Sanvorin reached across the table to tap the area marking Idrelin. A remote backwater in the northwest, most of it was either forest of moorland. The only city of note was Oremar, and its people were caricatured as ignorant yokels across Anvara. One popular story told of a Idrelinai peasant, coming to a city (which city tended to vary) to sell a fatted pig, only to be cheated out if it by a silver-tongued city man, who bought the pig with a precious ‘diamond’ (in reality a chunk of ice), with the peasant only realizing his mistake when he got home and found his treasure had melted away.

“If Idrelin goes with the Kierai,” he said, “Eorvin will follow. And that will put Kier right up against Tirani.”

That gave Kavrenn pause. He knew Tirani well...four long years of exile in Servanen still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Tirani joined the League after Aorvaer was pacified. Servanen was the hegemon of the region, and appreciated having open roads to the south through the once turbulent area. But their loyalties were still unsettled...the Tiranai long benefited from weak neighbors to the south (Aorvaer) disorganized neighbors to the west (the clans in the Kalyeva Mountains) and dull and unambitious neighbors to the north (Eorvin.) The Servanenai had long been accustomed to being secure and supreme within their borders – joining the League was merely a way to make their rich men even richer. But the prospect of a Kierai-led league to its north was something else.

“Nothing’s settled as of yet,” Sanvorin said. “I am told the Idrelinai have sent a delegation to the Oracle, seeking advice. What they will do will depend on the answer they get.”

“More than likely, the Kierai will make he choice for them,” Kavrenn growled. “Damned northerners!”

“This as bound to happen,” Sanvorin pointed out. “Nothing happens without consequence. A stone thrown in a pond causes ripples. The Kierai are a proud lot...they see Kavril as their only rival worth noticing. We have united the south, it is to be expected that they would do the same in the north.”

“The northerners would only follow the Kierai out of fear. They gain nothing from it but a respite before the swine put spears to their necks and force them to kneel.” Kavrenn said this confidently, but inwardly he grimaced at the enormity of the problem.

A wise man of the past, writing in the days after the War of the Temples, four hundred years ago, observed that Anvara was divided into four parts. The South, wealthy and cultured, the heart and soul of the Anvarai. The Long Coast, exotic and cosmopolitan, open to foreigners in ways that often seemed disturbing. Porovarn – the Highlands – that high plateau between the Kalyeva and Livrenna mountains, where no city stood, only quarrelsome clans fighting one another over rocky fields and stolen sheep.

And the North. Cold, proud, insular. Jealous of their independence as any Anvarai, they care little for the world beyond their borders and had little more than contempt for other Anvarai, especially southerners, whom they viewed as soft and perverse. Southerners for their part returned the disdain, mocking Northerners as crude and ignorant. Kier especially was a cause of condemnation and a source of fascination, universally regarded as the strangest place in Anvara. A pelvota ruled not by one King but by three. Kings...to the rest of the Anvarai they were a thing from myth. No one suffered to be rule by them today...save the Kierai.

But the strangeness went beyond that. In Kier, there were no farmers, no craftsmen, no smiths, no poets. Only warriors. Men were taken at young age and raised in communal barracks, taught by stern guardians wielding whip and cane to march in step, to hold their position, to wield the spear in one hand and the shield in the other, and to never, ever disobey any orders, even until death. Women were formed into their own regiments as well, given training in arms and subjected to discipline. There were no families, the Kierai instead pairing off their best and strongest the way a farmer might breed a stud bull to his cows, the children taken away still wet from their mothers womb to be raised by wet nurses

Kier itself was an ugly, a place of rough houses made of unworked stone laid out in a grid, more a military camp than a city. The people dressed the same, all in black, men and women alike wearing the same clothes and shaving their heads to a stubble, the men scraping their faces clean of any hint of a beard, as a clean chin gave less chance for an enemy to grab hold of a face. Sameness was prized, difference discouraged. The most simple freedoms that even the poorest Anvarai, living under the thumb of the cruelest ruler might take for granted were eschewed by the Kierai as source of weakness. Such a place would little more than curiosity, destined to fade into myth, except for one this – the Kierai were phenomenal fighters, Raised from birth to march in step, to wiled the spear and to follow orders, they had long been the hegemon of Conretea, the other cities long since submitting to Kier and providing the things that the Kierai no longer bothers to provide for themselves. But Kier’s holdings went beyond its core region – in the violent years of the War of the Temples, Kier invaded Anlira and subjugated the eastern third of the region. The cities that once stood there were razed, to the point that few beyond a handful of scholars remembered their names. The inhabitents were reduced by Kier to a state of servitude not unlike that of slavery. This, ore than anything set the Kierai apart from other Anvarai – slavery was an abomination in the eyes of the gods. To own another soul as one might a horse of a sheep was to deny them any hope of renown. Renown was the salvation of me and women alike, through it one might live forever, so was decreed by the gods themselves to the hero Pavdann before his final climactic battle against the vile Geldekur. Renown was the birthright of all, especially all Anvarai. But to make a man or women property was to deny them the renown that was others by right, or even worse to steal it, and this the gods hated above all else. For it was renown that was the ultimate measure of a man in their eyes, renown that proved the worth of a woman, renown that was the potential of each child coming into the world. Wealth was nothing, mere fame a wisp of smoke on the wind. But renown, that lived forever, the gods and feranmiai alike would remember it even if mortals did not.

The Kierai denied that what they did was wrong in the eyes of Heaven and Earth, that the suporvet, as those held in bondage were called, were not the property of any one man, but were bonded to the land, like the orchard and fields they worked, that the Kierai only took what was rightfully theirs by right of conquest (two-thirds f heir harvest, sometimes more). The rest of the North might look on in disapproval, but said nothing in the face of Kierai strength. The Temples condemned it, but could do little more – eve now, four centuries after the Sacred Twins brought an end to the Wars of the Temples, the authority of the Aiotarin was still weak, and if it weren't for their control of the Ovalia, the northern temples might slip from there grasp entirely.

Kavrenn pondered this. “Let the Kierai bark,” he said at the last. “That's all it is, empty noise. This league they form, it won't count for much if they need one half of it to keep the other half loyal And this,...this might work to our advantage when it comes to Avan! Send word to Ketova that we understand their position and will do nothing to change it, but that if they change their minds, Kavrenn gives his word they will have membership in the League of Agelvan for the asking. Ad make sure the Kierai know if it as well.”

“The Kierai will scream at this. They'll threaten the Avanai and anyone else...ah, very clever!”

“I thought you'd appreciate it! Kier cant help but be itself. A few threats, their warriors parading along the border, and the Avanai will drop into our hands like an apple from the tree.”

Sanvorin stood. “I'll begin writing the letters,” he said. Then he paused a moment. “Supposing the Kierai do more then bluster. Kavrilai spears on their borders will make them very nervous.”

“I hope so,” Kavrenn said. “I hope it makes them very angry. Kier is part of Anvarai...and Anvarai must be united. Against enemies from without...” He paused a moment. “And enemies from within.”