On arrival at the barn, Seemo’s helpers set up a makeshift stage from some barrels and boards. The barn had been patched up after years of decay, cleared, and cleaned, ready for new hay and straw. Today, it would shelter the cropped heads of a few hundred army veterans from the sun. This was his first chance to address a large crowd. Seemo—maimed newsman of the Nasrin docks, a nobody—was lifted onto the stage. He looked out at the sea of heads, bobbing like apples in a bowl, feeling energized by them. With rags, hazel sticks, and wool-markers, some men had made rough banners:
I am Maz the deaf gunner. Maimed for the cause.
I am Skotti—fought in six battles.
I am Yasu, homeless musketeer. Save the cause.
I am lame Ibbi—I need work.
And there was a banner with neat letters, sewn in desperation. I am Ronya. My husband came back with a broken mind.
Seemo managed to wave a wooden placard while balancing on one crutch. It said, Seemo Shepherd. Maimed for the cause. He wore his green army coat, but not his cap. He wanted to show his cropped head. “Comrades, welcome!” he shouted.
The crowd cheered him. Men continued to file in, and started pushing when it became clear that Seemo was about to speak.
“Comrades!” Seemo shouted again. Looking out at dozens and dozens of faces waiting for him to tell them something interesting, he couldn’t help but feel blood pounding in his head. “It warms my heart t’be with you this afternoon. We are a fine bunch of men! We are the beating heart of Kimalloa. Didn’t our commanders tell us so?”
The crowd cheered, heads bobbed, and placards were waved.
Seemo waited for the noise to subside and then continued. “A few moons ago, the Army of Truth—our army—won a great victory at Tamsit.”
The crowd cheered again. “We beat the fat tyrant!” one man cried out. Some yelled that they were there and it was great to have been there.
After some exchanges in the crowd, Seemo raised his hand for quiet. “We were fighting for four years. Up and down the country, going where our commanders told us to, training to do what they needed us to do, and losing what we had to lose, like our limbs, our eyes, our minds, and many, many friends—our brothers in arms.”
The crowd became somber, murmuring in sadness, remembering those lost friends.
Seemo continued. “Why did we do it? Why did we slog through mud ’n’ blood ’n’ guts ’n’ disease ’n’ hunger ’n’ hardship? They promised us freedom. Better lives for our children. Opportunities! Well, have we got them?”