Ch. 257 The First Muster

Chapter 257: The First Muster

Eliza scheduled the first citywide muster for sunrise.

This was unpopular.

She considered that encouraging.

“An enemy will not wait until everyone has eaten,” she said.

“An enemy who attacks before breakfast has already abandoned morality,” I replied.

Thor nodded.

“On this, Greykeep and Concordia agree.”

Eliza looked at both of us.

“You will report to the lower yard before the first bell.”

Thor smiled.

“Will there be breakfast afterward?”

“If you perform adequately.”

Melody leaned toward me.

“We should hide food.”

Evelyn was already awake when I opened my eyes.

She sat beside the window with a book in her lap.

Not one of the children’s books.

Older.

Narrow.

Bound in cracked green leather.

She closed it when I moved.

“What are you reading?”

“An infirmary record.”

“Was anyone injured?”

“Many people. It covers nearly two hundred years.”

“That seems excessive for one morning.”

She smiled.

Then placed the book facedown.

I noticed a symbol pressed into the cover.

A hand cupping a small flame.

It looked familiar.

Before I could remember where I had seen it, Garrick shouted from the nursery.

The question escaped.

The muster involved more bells than I expected.

One from the castle.

Two from Havenreach.

A smaller bell at the road barracks.

Tovan stood in the outer yard and listened to all four.

“They disagree,” he said.

“They’re bells,” I replied.

“The western city bell is late.”

“By how much?”

“Three heartbeats.”

Eliza turned toward the officer responsible for signals.

“Fix it.”

The officer looked at the tower.

“The bell?”

“The timing.”

Tovan appeared relieved.

I suspected the bell had been in danger.

The castle guard assembled first.

Eighty-seven people.

Some had served since before Greykeep’s wards awakened.

Others had joined within the last year.

The city watch arrived in groups from each district.

One hundred and forty-three.

The road patrols brought horses, carts, and an argument about whose responsibility it was to inspect bridges.

The reserve force was largest.

Farmers.

Craftspeople.

Miners.

Former soldiers.

Several people who had volunteered because they believed reserve duty meant standing behind everyone else.

Eliza corrected that belief.

Their expressions changed.

Mary stood on a raised platform beside the yard.

She carried three books.

One for attendance.

One for decisions.

One for errors.

Melody looked up at her.

“Which is the largest?”

“The third.”

“We haven’t started.”

Mary opened it.

“We began planning six days ago.”

Melody looked at me.

“That is unfair.”

“It does seem prepared.”

Mary wrote something.

Melody straightened.

“I withdraw my objection.”

The new structure had looked sensible on paper.

Castle guard protected Greykeep.

City watch protected Havenreach.

Road patrols kept travel and supply routes open.

The reserve reinforced whichever group required support.

Divine responders operated separately and could not assume mortal command without a declared emergency.

In practice, the castle guard knew the city better than some members of the watch.

Half the road patrols lived inside Havenreach.

The reserves included officers with more experience than the people assigned to direct them.

Nobody agreed about what counted as a declared emergency.

Eliza seemed pleased.

“Now we know what is wrong.”

“We knew some of it yesterday,” I said.

“Now everyone else knows.”

Garrick Valewood took command of the first exercise.

This produced confusion.

Three people looked toward my son.

He sat near the wall with Helena and Carol, holding a wooden horse.

“My father-in-law,” I clarified.

One of the new gods frowned.

“They have the same name?”

“They do.”

“Why?”

I looked at Evelyn.

She was checking the medical station.

“Tradition.”

Garrick Valewood overheard.

“Respect.”

From beside the wall, our son shouted, “Horse.”

The god nodded slowly.

“Tradition appears safer.”

The exercise was simple.

A wagon carrying grain would overturn near the western gate.

The city watch would secure the area.

The road patrol would redirect traffic.

The reserve would move the grain before imaginary rain ruined it.

The castle guard would remain at its posts because not every incident required everyone to run toward it.

This final point had been included for me.

I stood beside Eliza on the wall.

“What do I do?”

“Observe.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

“Continue observing until someone asks for divine aid.”

“That seems inefficient.”

“That is the lesson.”

The wagon overturned.

Perrin had designed a release allowing one wheel to collapse safely.

It worked.

The other three wheels came off too.

Eleanor closed her eyes.

Perrin stared at the wagon.

“That was not meant to happen.”

The grain sacks fell.

One split.

The reserve ran toward it.

So did twelve members of the castle guard.

Eliza rang a hand bell.

They stopped.

“Return to your posts.”

One of them pointed toward the grain.

“It’s spilling.”

“The city will survive.”

The guard looked unconvinced.

Then returned.

The city watch established a boundary around the road.

Too large.

They blocked access to the infirmary lane.

Evelyn walked up to the rope.

“Move it.”

The watch officer looked toward Garrick Valewood.

Evelyn did not.

“If this were real, injured people would need that road.”

The officer moved the rope.

Mary wrote in the third book.

The road patrol redirected two carts.

Then accidentally sent both toward the same narrow street.

There was shouting.

One horse became offended.

Thor watched from the wall beside me.

“This is going well.”

“Is it?”

“Nothing is on fire.”

A spark ran through her braid.

Eliza looked at her.

Thor smoothed it down.

The reserve saved most of the grain.

Melody stole one sack.

That was part of the exercise.

Nobody had told the reserve.

She carried it toward the southern stair while wearing a grey cloak over her armor.

Three people saw her.

One called for help.

One assumed she had permission.

The third followed her quietly and took the sack when she stopped to see whether anyone was following.

Melody stared at him.

The man ran back toward the wagon.

“Who is that?” she asked.

Mary checked the attendance list.

“Barris. Cooper. No military experience.”

Melody smiled.

“Put him in scouting.”

Eliza nodded.

Barris had changed professions before breakfast.

The twins watched everything.

This concerned me.

Carol pointed when the watch moved the rope.

Garrick lifted his wooden horse and made it cross the space between his hands without touching the air.

Helena lowered his arms.

“No folding soldiers.”

“Horse.”

“No folding horses.”

He considered the narrower interpretation.

Then folded one of the grain sacks into his lap.

The reserve shouted.

The sack vanished from beside the wagon and appeared against Helena’s knees.

She looked at it.

Then at her grandson.

“No.”

Garrick returned the sack.

It appeared above the wagon.

The seam split when it landed.

More grain spilled.

Mary began a new line in the third book.

“You should move them inside,” I said.

Helena looked toward the children.

“They need to learn what the bells mean.”

“They also need to stop changing the exercise.”

Carol stood.

The spilled grain rose from the road.

Hundreds of kernels hovered in the air.

Sel’s domain moved through them.

Each grain sprouted a tiny green shoot.

The reserve stopped working.

Everyone watched.

Carol smiled.

I climbed down from the wall.

The lesson had changed.

Evelyn reached our daughter first.

“Let them go.”

Carol looked at the floating grain.

“Grow.”

“Not now.”

“Why?”

Her speech still arrived unevenly.

Single words most of the time.

Questions when she wanted something enough.

Evelyn knelt.

“Because it is not yours.”

Carol frowned.

She knew the grain belonged to someone else.

The power had made that seem unimportant.

“They dropped it.”

“That does not make it yours.”

The shoots continued growing.

Roots curled through the air.

Garrick reached toward them.

Space bent.

“No,” Evelyn said.

Both children froze.

So did half the yard.

My wife held out her hand.

“You can help put it back.”

Carol placed one small hand in hers.

The growth slowed.

It did not reverse.

Sel approached.

“May I help?”

Evelyn looked at Carol.

Our daughter nodded.

Sel touched one floating stalk.

The new shoots folded back into the grain.

Not destroyed.

Returned to possibility.

Carol watched carefully.

Then copied her.

The remaining sprouts disappeared.

The kernels dropped.

Most landed in the torn sack.

Some struck Garrick.

He laughed.

The exercise resumed.

Eliza came down from the wall.

“Should the children be included in the defense plan?”

“No,” Evelyn and I said together.

The captain looked toward the grain.

“They will affect it whether included or not.”

That was harder to dismiss.

Rysa joined us from the medical station.

“Their lessons should include alarm signals.”

“They already know the bells,” Helena said.

“Do they know what they are expected to do?”

Everyone looked at the twins.

Garrick had placed grain inside his wooden horse.

Carol was attempting to remove it.

“No,” I said.

We added a nursery response to the plan.

Not because the children would fight.

Because they needed to know where to go when the bells sounded.

The room would have three adults.

Two exits.

A boundary the twins understood.

No divine object stored nearby.

Thor moved Mjölnir farther from the wall even though she was outside.

The children would practice remaining in the protected room until collected by someone they recognized.

“How do we prevent Garrick from folding the door?” Helena asked.

Nathaniel considered.

“We teach him that remaining is a choice he makes to keep someone else safe.”

Caldris nodded.

“That may work better than forbidding departure.”

“And Carol?” I asked.

Rysa watched our daughter arrange kernels by size.

“Give her something she is responsible for protecting.”

Carol looked up.

Apparently she approved.

The second exercise began after breakfast.

Eliza had granted food without requiring adequate performance.

Thor called this weakness.

Eliza handed her a bowl.

Thor accepted it.

The new exercise involved a fire in the eastern market.

Nara created smoke without flame.

The city watch began evacuating the square.

The road patrol moved water carts.

The reserve formed lines between the wells and the market.

The castle guard remained at Greykeep.

Mostly.

Only four abandoned their posts this time.

Mary recorded the improvement.

I remained on the wall.

Observe.

Wait.

Do not solve every problem because I possessed enough power to reach it.

Aurelia stood beside me.

“You dislike this.”

“I could put out the fire.”

“There is no fire.”

“That makes it easier.”

“What happens when Havenreach has three fires?”

“I put out three.”

“And when a storm threatens the mine while the castle is attacked and someone calls for you from a shrine two kingdoms away?”

I looked at her.

“That was unnecessarily specific.”

“It was four problems.”

“I noticed.”

The bells changed.

Tovan turned toward the northern ridge.

The city signals continued the exercise.

A fifth bell rang beneath them.

Low.

Distant.

Not a bell built by mortal hands.

Damar stood near the reserve lines.

His head lifted.

“Mine.”

Eliza looked at him.

“What?”

“The northern gallery moved.”

The exercise ended.

No one needed to announce it.

The people in the yard felt the difference.

Practice scattered.

Purpose gathered.

The Castellan’s voice sounded from the wall.

“Collapse detected within the northern mine. Twenty-six people below ground. Primary exit remains open. Secondary passage obstructed.”

Eliza began issuing orders.

“Road patrol to the ridge. Reserve engineers with them. City watch clears the northern road. Castle guard holds position.”

This time, nobody argued.

Garrick Valewood assigned wagons.

Eleanor gathered tools.

Perrin ran toward the workshop.

Evelyn turned to the healers.

“Field station at the mine entrance. Liora, take the first wagon. Splints, blankets, water, burn dressings.”

“Burns?” Liora asked.

“Lamp oil.”

She did not have to explain further.

I waited.

Every part of me wanted to reach north.

I could feel the mountain.

Stone.

Cold.

Metal buried beneath it.

The frightened breaths of people under the earth were too distant to hear.

My domain listened to the weather above them.

Snow had begun gathering on the ridge.

A storm I had not called.

A storm that still knew me.

Eliza looked up.

“Uriah.”

Finally.

“What do you need?”

“Keep the northern road clear. No ice. No heavy snow. Do not touch the mine until Damar asks.”

I reached for the storm.