The Path of Anger by Antoine Rouaud

Author:Antoine Rouaud
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Gollancz London
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

2

HUNTED

He shall have no rest, no refuge.

Whether by day or by night,

Wherever he goes he shall be

No more than game

Fleeing from the hunt.

They fled. Constantly. Endlessly. They roamed the Saltmarsh region in silence, penetrating the marshes, making their way through the tall grasses and the mud. From village to village, from makeshift camps in isolated spots to the thick of the swamps, their only goal was to protect Laerte and to keep him as far as possible from the growing shadow of Etienne Azdeki. The boy felt it at his back, menacing and vicious. Sometimes he looked back, fearing he would see the Imperial captain’s proud figure challenging him with his gaze. But there was never anything but whichever bumpy road they were following.

Their party numbered twenty in all, for the most part soldiers of the county guard who had left their armour behind them, playing the role of simple peasants. Often they placed the boy in the back of a cart, Esyld at his side, and all of them wearing rags; they travelled like poor wretches leaving the war-torn region. Azdeki’s troops continued to comb the area, searching the columns of refugees. The few times they were stopped they came close to being unmasked. Each time Esyld drew close to Laerte, taking his hand in hers and whispering soothing words in the hollow of his ear.

And always the soldiers ordered them to be on the way, looking frustrated. Who could claim to recognise Laerte of Uster? Who even knew what he looked like? And what inhabitant of the Saltmarsh, who crossed his path, would been vile enough to hand over an innocent child to be put to death? Oratio of Uster had been loved by his people. His death was a cause for grief and surrendering his last living child to the Emperor’s wrath would have been an insult to his memory. The registers were burned. Mentions of Laerte, erased . . . The few people who knew the boy’s age and appearance kept quiet.

This silent form of support protected them during their flight, a silence accepted by all as the only possible defence against the folly of a captain of the Empire. No tongues wagged and Azdeki was forced to acknowledge that he’d made his first mistake. In his haste, he had let a single child, a mere boy, slip away from him. The rumour of his survival was enough to foment rebellion. Little by little, people took up arms, farms rebelled and hamlets were transformed into fortified camps. Revolt was stirring. And Captain Meurnau was prepared to do everything in his power to make it become a loud roar.

‘Drink,’ he said to Laerte, one day when they were halted by the side of a road.

Sitting in the rear of the cart, a wide, thick cloth covering him from head to toe, the boy extended a pale hand and took the flask proffered by the captain. They had been travelling for months now with no real destination, if there had ever been one.

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