The Seer King
By Chris Bunch
ONE
Exile
The Seer King, Emperor Laish Tenedos, is dead. A courier
brought the word this morning, and the prison warden declared a
holiday.
I suppose I should not have called him that, but rather the
Prisoner Tenedos, just as I am no longer Damastes a Cimabue,
no longer Damastes the Fair as some called me in the silken
pavilions of Nicias, no longer First Tribune a Cimabue, Baron
Damastes of Ghazi, but merely the Prisoner Damastes.
I knew what tidings the ship bore, even before it docked from its
gay buntings and the cheers of my guards as they read the signal
flags.
They say the emperor died of natural causes, that his heart
failed. Perhaps. But it would have taken only one enemy among
his guards to cast a sorcerous spell, slip a bit of poison into his
mat, or arrange a simple fall when he took his long walks along
the coast, as I do, staring off toward the gray horizon, hoping for,
but never being granted, the slightest glimpse of the great
country of Numantia he brought to greatness and then sent down
into ruin.
Sergeant Perak, who heads my guard detail, a man I have grown
fond of in the year since my captivity began, said he believes the
official tale, but it wasn't disease, but the malaise
of exile that sent him to his grave. A broken heart, a romantic
might have put it.
But he said this very quietly, after making sure no one might
overhear him. It would not do for a jailer to show the slightest
warmth toward his prisoner, nor toward the cause the prisoner
vowed to serve until death.
At even-meal I noted the garrison's officers looking at me. I knew
what they were wondering: How much longer would I be
permitted to live?
I am, I suppose, the only tribune left of the Emperor Tene-dos's
great army, save Herne, who betrayed us, and Linerges, who I
understand was able to flee abroad. The only other ranking
survivor might be Yonge, who vanished long ago into the crags of
the Border States.
Perhaps I too will have a convenient accident, or sickness.
It matters not.
I have seen, and done, as much as one man should be
permitted. I've cut my way through battlefields where the blood
lapped around my horse's fetlocks.
I've loved well twice and been betrayed once. Both those I loved
are dead now, as is the part of me that loved them.
I've sat at the head of an army, a thousand thousand men who
cheered and charged into certain death and their return to the
Wheel on my command.
I've seen the greatest cities of Maisir and Numantia, from Kallio
to the jungle borderlands, roar up in flames, flames I ordered to
be set.
I've seen battlegrounds torn by demons called by the most evil
and powerful wizards, demons who broke a column of charging
cavalry when they appeared, ripped a company of spearmen
apart with their talons, or sent them screaming away in madness.
I have eaten from golden plates, surrounded by silk and gentle
music.
That is the one side.
There is the other:
*
I've stumbled, bleeding, from the field of war, gut-sick as I saw
our banners trampled and torn by the enemy triumphant.
I've snatched a half-burned potato from a low fire and gnawed at
it, the best and only meal I'd had for close on a week.
I've screamed on a witch's pallet, while she muttered words and
taped dressings around my wounds, and then spent weeks
wishing for the softness of death in a recovery tent.
Yet I am not old. I am not yet forty. All that has happened came in
less than fifteen years.
Fifteen years, given a few months each way, since I first met the
seer named Tenedos, facing death in a deadly mountain pass of
the Border States.
Fifteen years, when I rode behind the emperor, his aide, cavalry
commander, and then tribune, holding close my family's
faithóWe Hold Trueóalthough I now realize that loyalty was felt
by only one of us.
He and I were the only two who were there at the beginningóand
the end.
Our enemies would have said there were three:
Laish Tenedos.
Myself.
And Death, the dark manifestation of the great goddess Saionji,
creator, destroyer, skull-grin tight through the folds of her cloak,
swords held high, pale horse nickering, eager to strike again.
Now there are but two of us.
Myself and Death.
My last friend.
TWO
The Seer Tenedos
My doom, and that of all Numantia, was sealed on the day I scored
five goals at rol. This may sound like a jokeóhow could a
horsemen's game make Saionji rip our lands apart, casting millions
back on the Wheel to await rebirth?
But there is no joke, nor was there on the day of my disgrace.
The Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers took their sport most seriously.
If it hadn't been for those five goals, the adjutant's pride, his lying,
and my subsequent disgrace, another officer might have been
sent to Sulem Pass, one with less to lose, and Laish Tenedos
might have died with a hillman's spear through his throat, and the
years of bloody war and dark magic might never have happened.
I was the newest officer of the regiment, having been given my
sash of rank not many months earlier. I'd sought frontier duty,
wanting to fight instead of drill endlessly on parade grounds, and
had been lucky enough to be chosen to be a column commander
with the elite Lancers, as my first posting.
My downfall was ironic, because I had been most careful, as I'll
tell later, to avoid the usual blunderings and stupidities of a junior
legate. In fact, I'd been successful enough in a *
patrol against a wizard-bandit to be complimented by Domina
Herstal, the regimental commander, only days before the rol
match brought me down.
Rol is a simple game played on horseback across a wide, flat
field. At either end is a netted enclosure, a foot wide by a foot
high. There are five men to a side, and they attempt, using a
mallet with a handle as tall as a man, called a hammer, to drive a
wooden ball about the size of a large man's fist into the goal. The
game is played to ten points. It was a game I was particularly
fond of, since it called for the best in both man and horse, and I
was quite good at itóat the lycee I'd ridden forward on the
Senior Team.
The regiment was, as I said, very keen on sport, particularly the
adjutant, Captain of the Lower Half, Banim Lanett. Perhaps I
should explain just what an adjutant is and does, because
someone of his comparatively low rank should not be able to ruin
anyone, even a junior legate.
An adjutant is the grease a regiment's wheels turn on. The unit
commander, Domina Herstal, might walk out on the parade
ground one morning and wonder if the stones bordering the field
would look better stained yellow instead of white. Captain Lanett
would nod, say "What an interesting idea, Domina," and as soon
as the regimental commander was out of hearing would bellow
for the troop guide and within minutes barracks would be rousted
and details of men told off for painting, so when the domina
came out for noon assembly, the area would be marked with
tawny rocks as if a wizard had wiggled his wand. The domina
would never inquire as to the circumstances, and the subject
would never be brought up again unless the work had been done
unsatisfactorily or the domina changed his mind once more.
Captain Lanett was a competent soldier with but one failing,
although at the time I thought him a deceitful, lying bastard I'd call
out if the army did not sensibly forbid dueling a higher-ranking
officer.
His failing isn't that uncommon, either, and can be found almost
anywhere in civilian life as well as the military: a sin-
gle weakness that hews a deep canyon through a man's honor.
For some it is women, for some it is pride, for some it is gaming.
Captain Lanett's failing was his love of sport, more precisely rol.
Off the field, he was a model of rectitude, but once mounted,
hammer in hand, he would do anything to win a match, including
spearing an opponent if a weapon had been given him and the
referees' backs were turned.
The game was a match between the regiment's troops, and I was
determined my Cheetah Troop would carry the day. I had been
picked to ride forward, the position most likely to score, and
things were going very well. I'd driven two goals in during the first
quarter and heard cheering from the twenty-five men of my
column. The match had swayed back and forth down the field, a
grand melee, until, in the final quarter, I'd picked up another two
goals and the score was tied, -both. We were on the defense,
and I was trying to hold back the other side's halfback and back,
my pony skittering from side to side of the grassy ground.
Captain Lanett came pelting down on our goal, tapping the wood
ahead of him, about to let fly, and I was at full gallop trying to
catch him. My mount was slightly faster, and I cut in from his blind
side, and slashed, backhanding the ball away from him toward his
goal. I heard the captain shout, but paid no mind, wheeling my
pony and driving back toward the ball. Behind me came the
thunder of the captain's horse, but I paid no mind, with an eternity
to strike, that one-foot-wide goal yawning as wide as an elephant
trap, and I snapped my mallet back and smashed the ball directly
into the center of the net, and I bellowed victory, and there came
another shout from behind.
I pulled my horse up, and turned. The adjutant had reined in, and
had one hand clasped to his leg.
"You son of a bitch," he shouted. "You fouled me back there, and
now again! I'll have your ass for this!"
He turned in his saddle and shouted to the referees, "Judges!
This man struck me twice, and I wish penalty!"
The stands were shouting, some for victory, some wonder-
*
ing what madness the officers had come up with this time, but the
two lance-majors chosen to referee the match said nothing.
Slowly they rode forward, and the other players rode up with
them.
"Sir," one of them began, "I saw nothing."
"Nor did I, Captain," said the other.
"Then you're damned blind! I say this man fouled me! Are you
accusing me of lying?"
"Legate?" one of the lance-majors said.
Perhaps I could have phrased my reply more politely, but I knew
I hadn't touched himóin both cases my stroke would have been
put off, and I certainly would have felt the blow up the shaft of my
hammer.
"The hells I did," I said, my face no doubt reddening in anger.
"The captain is mistaken! He must have struck himself by
accident, turning to come after me!"
"I did not, Legate," and Captain Lanett's voice was as cold as a
mountain stream. "Are you saying I am the liar?"
I started to say what I believed, but caught myself just in time. "I
do no such thing, sir," and I put emphasis on the word. "I know
what I did, and I expect every man on this field knows as well."
The adjutant stared at me, and when he did I swear the shouts of
the regiment went mute. He said nothing, but wheeled his horse
and rode off toward the stables.
Cheetah Troop had, indeed, taken the day. But the last few
seconds had soured that victory. The men of my column
congratulated me, but even their praise was muted. It took only
seconds for everyone in the Seventeenth Lancers to know what
had happened: The regimental adjutant, a man of probity and
respect, had accused the newest officer, an unknown legate
from a forgotten district, of illegal play and the gods-damned boy
had the gall to deny it.
I hoped the incident would be forgotten or at least ignored, and
avoided the mess that night. But it was clear by the next morning
that my "fouling" of Captain Lanett was the sensation of the hour,
and it would be some time before it was forgotten.
Lanett made it worse by refusing to look at or speak to me save
when duty directly called, and so the incident grew.
I felt I was in disgrace such as no officer had ever known and,
worse, was being treated as unjustly as any man the gods wished
to test for moral righteousness. A thousand plans and plots ran
across my mind, from the hope that my family's hearth-god Tanis
might reach out and twist Lanett's soul to make him tell the truth,
or that the adjutant might be savaged by the next boar he
attempted to spear, and even far less honorable thoughts in the
deep of night involving cleverly arranged "accidents."
It might seem these events are absurd, taken far beyond
proportion, which is true. But such affairs of honor are quite
common when soldiers are at peace, their minds not fully
occupied with their trade. But on the other hand it's not that
foolisliówould a merchant hire a young clerk whom another
respected colleague has falsely accused of theft?
A soldier, really, has only one possession besides his life, and
that is his honor.
I knew not what I could do.
The solution was time, I now realize. Sooner or later another
scandal would appear, and mine would move into the
background. If I did nothing foolish like desert or strike my
superior, there would inevitably come a backswell of support,
especially if I carried myself well and gave no cause whatsoever
for reproach.
But that is not what happened.
Less than two weeks later, just at the end of the Tune of Heat, I
was in the riding ring with my column, putting them through yet
another round of mounted drill, when I was summoned to the
domina's office.
I was worriedóthus far the regiment's commander had appeared
to take no notice of what had happened at the rol match, and I
was trying to convince myself he hadn't learned of the event But
now ... junior legates are never called before the domina, except
in the event of complete disaster.
I hurriedly changed into my best uniform, and went to the *
regimental headquarters. The regimental guide, Evatt, ushered
me directly into Domina Herstal's office, and I saw real trouble
coming.
There was only one man in the office: Captain Lanett. He sat at
the domina's table, a great slab of cunningly worked teak, and
appeared intent on some papers in front of him.
I smashed my fist against my chest in salute and stood at rigid
attention. After a long moment, he deigned to look up.
"Legate Damastes a Cimabue," he began, without preamble,
"you are being detached."
I hope I managed to keep an impassive face, but I doubt it
Shitóno doubt I was being sent to some assignment in limbo,
caring for the widows and orphans of lances who'd fallen in the
line of duty, or elephant handlers' school or something else
guaranteed to end my career. The bastard adjutant would not let
go.
"Sir!" was all I said, however, in spite of my anger and churning
guts.
"Do you wish to know where?"
"If the captain wishes to tell me."
"It's a plum assignment," Lanett said, and a smile, not friendly,
came and went on his thin lips. "Something most officers would
die for."
I'll interject a rule here that holds true in all walks of life: The more
a task is praised by the one giving it, the more likely it is to be
dangerous, thankless, pointless, or all three.
I waited in silence. Captain Lanett began reading from the paper
in front of him.
"At the pleasure of the Rule of Ten, you are being detached,
together with all lances and warrants of Cheetah Troop, to
provide security for the new resident-general of the Border
States, also known as the Province of Kait, until ordered
otherwise. You are also to function as military adviser and aide to
the resident-general, and in any other capacity he deems fit, until
you are properly relieved or replaced by either the resident-
general or the domina commanding Seventeenth Ureyan
Lancers. In addition..."
He went on, but I heard nothing much. He stopped after a few
more sentences, and I'm afraid I blurted, "Sir, if I understand you
correctly, I'm being put in command of Cheetah Troop? All of
Cheetah Troop?" I was completely incredulous. One turning of
the glass ago I was waiting to be sent into some sort of exile,
now I was being given what I would only be able to dream of for
at least five, and more like ten, years: command of an entire
troop, over lances, a promotion of two full positions! Something
was wrong.
'That is correct."
"May I ask why I was chosen?"
I knew I'd left myself open, and expected a glare and a
reprimand from the captain. Instead, he looked down at the desk,
as if unwilling to meet my gaze. His tone, though, was harsh:
"That was the decision reached by Domina Herstal and me," he
said. "You need not question it."
"No, sir. Butó"
"If you have questions, you can ask them of Troop Guide Evatt.
Your troop is to be ready to ride out, bag and baggage, to Renan,
where the resident-general awaits, within two hours. All married
men are to be transferred to other troops and replaced by single
lances. Dismissed!"
I started to gape like a fish, but caught myself, clapped my hand
to my chest, wheeled, and marched out.
Something was dreadfully wrong.
Regimental Guide Evatt wasónormallyóa bluff, paternal man
whom a number of new recruits and legates had made the
mistake of treating like a kindly and declining grandsire, for which
compliment he'd repaid them by verbally removing their hides in
small strips and nailing them to the wall of his office. I hadn't
made that mistake, but had treated him as what he was: the
conscience, judge, and heart of the regiment. If he had not been
a warrant, everyone in the regiment except Domina Herstal would
have called him "sir." In return, I'd been given the compliment of
being addressed as he did all officers under the age of fifty, as
"young sir," or "young legate."
* But not this day. He acted a bit diffident, as if he was doing
something he knew wrong, and, just like Captain Lanett, had a bit
of trouble meeting my eye, and his answers were only a bit less
evasive than those of the adjutant.
He told me the orders had been received two hours ago by
heliograph. I wondered why I hadn't been detailed by Domina
Herstal himselfódetaching one of his prized regiment's six
troops was a big change, and it seemed to me he would want to
make sure I was fully instructed.
"He didn't have the time, Legate. Another matter came up." I
wondered what other matter, more important, could have
occurred, here in our sleepy garrison, at the exact same moment,
but didn't pursue that line.
"Guide Evatt, why me?" I suspect my tone was imploring.
"Because," the older man said slowly, but mechanically, as if
giving a rehearsed answer to an expected question, "the domina
feels all new officers should be given command training as early
as possible."
"But into the Border States?"
"There should be no major problems, Legate a" Cimabue," he
said. 'This is a diplomatic mission, not an expeditionary force."
"I've heard," I said, "the Men of the Hills don't bother to find a
difference when they have any Numantian soldier within
bowshot." I could have also asked if this was expected to be a
peaceful task, why the married lances and warrants were to be
left behind.
"Legate," the regimental guide said, "we don't have time for
jawing. The domina wanted you on your way so you can reach
Renan within three days. The resident-general and a company of
infantry are waiting there."
That was all I would get from him. I thanked him, trying to sound
as insincere as possible, and went for Cheetah Troop's barracks.
They were a swirl of confusion and obscenity as men uprooted
themselves from months and even, in some cases, years of
comfort. My own column, which would have been
given their orders last, after I'd been summoned, and hence had
less time to pack, was swearing more loudly and piteous-ly than
the others.
There was a line of carts, bullocks already hitched, drawn up in
front of the barracks, and bedding and baggage were cascading
in.
Fortunately I would keep Troop Guide Bikaner, both of whose
wives had left him to return to their native district for ritual
purification some months ago, not to return for at least a year.
He was surrounded by chaos, bellowing orders and looking a bit
frantic as a steady stream of thankful- or angry-looking married
men left for their new troops, and new and unknown lances
wandered or rode in, arms and horses cluttered with their gear.
I grabbed one lance, ordered him to my quarters with instructions
to pile everything in the room into the bags under the bed and to
have my horses, Lucan and Rabbit, saddled and ready to ride
and two pack horses loaded with my gear.
Then I set to helping Troop Guide Bikaner, trying to appear as if I
were in command, but actually trying to impede him as little as
possible. He'd done such moves many times over the years, and
I but once, and that a drill at the lycee.
Surprisingly, in one and one half hours we were drawn up on the
parade ground, our wagonsóloaded with our possessions and
the rations for the journey, plus the attached handful of cooks,
smiths, harness makers, sutlers, and quartermasters from Sun
Bear Troop, the regiment's support elementóto the rear.
Domina Herstal appeared and, after I called the men to attention,
addressed them briefly, saying they were headed for a new, and
possibly difficult, duty, and they were to obey Legate a Cimabue
as they would him, following all proper and sensible orders, a
phrase I found a bit unusual. He also advised the men to be
careful on the other side of the mountains and bade them all a
safe return when their duty was complete.
It was as uninspiring a speech as I'd ever heard.
f, At its finish, Captain Lanett gave me an oilskin packet with my
orders, Domina Herstal took the salute, and we rode out of Mehul
Garrison toward Renan.
It had taken me only a day and a half, riding leisurely, to travel
from Renan to Mehul. It took the troop three days, pushing hard.
Admittedly, the more the men the longer travel takes, but we
were further slowed by our baggage and wagons. I was grateful
we were not traveling with families and the motley followers that
trail an army on the move, but our pace was tedious for cavalry.
I knew something strange had happened, but could not figure
what it could be. It was hard worrying at the matter yet still
maintaining a cheerful and firm exterior to the men, who certainly
weren't unaware the situation was abnormal. I came up with an
acceptable lie, that Domina Herstal no doubt knew of the
possibility of this assignment some time ago, but sprang it as a
surprise because he wished to find out how prepared the
regiment was for a sudden move, such as if war erupted
between us and Maisir. That eased the worry, and made the
grumbling of "But why is Cheetah Troop so specialócouldn't we
stay happy, ordinary swine in the rear ranks and ignored like we
were?" louder. Ironically, in view of what came later, I'd come up
with my explanation as being the most preposterous, since
Numantia and the enormous kingdom of Maisir had been long at
peace, and our rivalry was only in trade.
Troop Guide Bikaner looked at me wryly, and so I asked him to
ride ahead of the column with me, out of the men's earshot. I
asked him if he had any better theory. He thrice denied doubting
what I'd said, as a polite warrant should, but eventually grinned
and agreed that yes, things were most out of whack.
"I'll have t'believe, Domina Herstal was as s'prised by th' orders
as anyone. Whatever's goin' on, he's not parcel to. I've known
him since he was a captain, an' there's not a sly bone to him."
"I'll ask you," I said, deciding utter frankness was the best, "the
same question I wanted to ask Captain Lanett and did ask
*
Regimental Guide Evatt, without getting a good answer: Why was
I chosen to take command of this troop?"
There was a long silence, with only the whisper of the hot breeze
through the roadside trees and the clop of our horses' hooves.
"I don't want t'answer that, sir, not knowin' anything, and havin'
naught but a supposition t'offer, an' that speaks not well of th'
regiment, an' worse of our task."
"I won't order you, Warrant. But your assóand the behinds of all
the other lancesóare in the same bucket mine is. I think I'll need
all the help I can get, even if it's the most dreadful sort of false
augury."
"Very well, sir. You asked, sir. I don't have any idea of what th'
crooked die'll be, nor when it'll be rolled, but there's an old army
sayin' that when th' floor of th' crapper's about to give way, y'
send in the man y' least care if he stinks of shit t'jump up an'
down an' test it."
Troop Guide Bikaner's proverb didn't surprise meóI'd already
figured something was nearly guaranteed to turn sour, and the
regiment wished to have the most sacrificeable lamb to offer the
tiger. I thanked him for giving me something to think about, but
made no other comment. His morale was easily twice as
important as any of the men's, and needed no further lessening.
It was my burden. As my father had said, over and over again, "If
you want to wear the cloak of command, know it's of the heaviest
cloth, with weights hidden in the fabric, and can be worn by only
one man."
We reached Renan and went directly to the holding barracks,
where my orders said the infantry company would be waiting. It
wasó men, of the Khurram Light Infantry. Troop Guide Bikaner
said he'd heard they were considered not the best, but far from
the worst soldiery. They'd be a bit of a problem at first, he added,
since they had no experience fighting the Men of the Hills. "But
they'll learn quick," he added. "Or else there'll be more bones on
th' peaks."
They were properly officered, led by a Captain Mellet, who
impressed me as a stolid, dependable sort, not fast in the attack,
but equally slow to give way. He envinced no surprise that the
orders put me, his junior, in charge of the expedition, but
expressed hope that I wouldn't give orders to any of the foot
soldiers except through him. I reassured him that I may have
been young, but I knew my military courtesy, and wished to know
where our new superior, the new governor general of the Border
States, was staying, so I could report.
"He's already traveling," the captain said.
"What?"
"He received special orders night before last. Heliograph orders,
in code, all the way from Nicias, saying he must get to Sayana
immediately. The orders came directly from the Rule of Ten, and
went on to say they'd had reliable reports from the court seers
that trouble was building in the capital, and Numantia had to have
an envoy on the spot at once. He set out yesterday before first
light, and said for us to join him on the road, after the cavalry
joined up."
I was completely astonished.
"Captain, you're saying the governor general set out for the
Border States with no escort? He's going by way of Sulem Pass,
isn't he?"
"Yessir. It didn't seem right to either of us, but he said his orders
were most exact. He also told me the Rule of Ten said there'd
been a safe passage established through the pass with the
tribesmen. He's also a seer, you know, so he thought he might
be able to sense any threats before they could be mounted."
"Isa naked with a damned sword," I swore. "The Rule of Ten
imagines the hillmen will keep their word?" Even a novice like
myself knew better than that. Especially transiting Sulem Pass.
Most especially for a dignitary who'd no doubt be laden with
presents for whoever was the current achim in the Border States'
capital of Sayana. "How many in his party? And is he traveling
fast?"
"About twenty. He's got four elephants and their keepers, six
outriders, and four wagons heavy-loaded with gear. Eight
outriders, two men to each wagon. The beasts'll ensure he's not
moving much faster than a man marches."
r This was preposterous. Worse, it was insane. I had a ¶
momentary flash of what Troop Guide Bikaner had said, but put
that thought aside.
"Captain, how fast can your men be ready to move?"
"Two ... three hours."
"Make it two. I want your command at the gates by then. We've
got to get to this damned resident-general before the fool gets
himself massacred, which'll happen ten feet inside Sulem Pass
unless the Men of the Hills are utter fools."
A look of alarm slowly crossed Captain Mellet's face, and he
rose, knocking over his chair, and cried for his legates. I started
for the door, then turned back.
"Captain, what's our esteemed and suicidal superior's name?"
"Tenedos. Laish Tenedos."
It was closer to three hours before we set off. My father, and my
better instructors at the lycee, had said that patience can be an
officer's biggest virtue, and so it was this day. I wanted to shout
at the soldiers as they trudged down the winding road that
climbed toward the hills to speed up. I wanted to order our
bullocks prodded into a stumbling trot. By the armor of Isa, I
wanted all of us to be mounted and at the gallop.
But I kept silent, gnawing on my tongue as if it were prime beef,
and we plodded on.
If I thought our carts moved slowly, they were racing chariots
compared to the infantry's wagons. The KLI seemed to travel
with every possession they'd been born with, including several
women on the carts who would have fit into Mehul's whorehouse
district called Rotten Row without rousing the slightest comment.
We made camp that night without sighting Resident-General
Tenedos's party.
At first light, I told a detail of five men to ride up the road, and if
they encountered the diplomat, to ask him to please hold until his
escort arrived. I also bade them turn back no later than
midafternoonówe were close to the mountains, and the Men i *
of the Hills defined that border most loosely and were likely to
have ambush parties out.
At dusk we set up for the second night, and as we lit our fires the
detail returned. The party must have been moving faster than
Captain Mellet had thought, because they'd seen no one. But the
resident-general was on the road, or anyway it was someone with
elephants, since they found droppings. "Either that," someone in
the rear ranks muttered, "or th' damned arm-waver's taken wi' th'
worst case a th' shits since Ma told me about corks." I
ostentatiously didn't hear the comment, but noted the man, and
when time came for a detail to help our cooks clean up after
dinner, that lance found himself working.
The mountains were very close now, and we'd reach them on the
morrow. Something the patrol had said had worried me even
more: They'd encountered no travelers at all coming north. If no
one was on the road from the Border States, no merchant,
wanderer, or beggar, trouble did indeed threaten.
At daybreak I sent another patrol forward, but this time with ten
men, since we were close to hostile territory.
The foothills were bare, and stony, and we kept sharp eyes out to
our flanks. Several times scouts reported movement, but we
never saw horse nor rider.
"They're out there," Lance-Major Wace said grimly. "But th' only
time you see one of them is when they want you to."
The patrol rode back well before dark, and said they'd reached
the mouth of Sulem Pass without encountering the resident-
general.
We were too late.
We made camp and I set a rotating guard of one-quarter of the
men. Now we must be ready for battle at any moment. We only
unpacked vital necessities, and fed and watered the unhappy
bullocks in their harness.
Two hours before first light we broke camp and when the sky
grayed we moved out. I asked Captain Mellet to put out his
soldiers on either side of the road, and kept response ele-
ments of my cavalry ready in case they were hit. We moved in
open order as well, to present a less juicy target.
Just at dawn, we entered Sulem Pass.
The pass, as most know, is the most direct route between the
kingdoms of Numantia and Maisir, with the Border State of Kait
between. In times of peace it is a prime trading route.
But the Men of the Hills seldom allow that. To them, a trader is
nothing more than a personal sutler, who provides all manner of
goods and gold as soon as the hillman waves a sword in his
face.
Sulem Pass twists for about twenty leagues, until it opens onto
the plains that lead to the city of Sayana . Bare ridges climb to ,
feet above the floor of the pass. The pass begins in a narrow
ravine, then, about halfway through, opens onto a plateau where
the Sulem River turns and rushes down a canyon, to the south.
From there until the comparative flat-lands of Kait, it's more
hospitable, the river coursing beside the track.
Twenty leaguesóonly two days' ride, but no one, not even the
hillmen, have ever ridden it in that time. Each twist, each zigzag,
each rock may, and most likely does, harbor an ambush.
The pass mouth on the Ureyan side is the narrowest, with the
mountains close to a few hundred feet of each other, and the
face on either side is unclimbable rock.
We moved slowly through this gut. I had horsemen out in front,
and, just back of them, the men Captain Mellet said were his
fleetest of foot. If they saw any sign of trouble, they were to
double back to the column, giving the alarm.
I sent them out in pairs, with orders that no man was to abandon
his mate under any circumstances. The Men of the Hills prize
bravery above all, and the bravest can endure any pain without
crying out. A captive, wounded or no, will be tortured to death,
and if he dies without screaming he will be well spoken of around
the hillmen's fires. But that seldom happens, for the tribesmen
are most skilled at their recreation.
My cavalrymen, being experienced, had their own rules:
* Never leave a comrade unless he is dead, and if you must, kill
him yourself. Some of the men carried small daggers in sheaths
around their necks, intended for themselves if no one else could
grant the last mercy.
A quarter-mile inside the pass, the way broadened, and our
progress was even slower. This sounds illogical, but the more
open ground was perfect for a trap.
There was an immutable policy regulating how soldiers were to
travel through Sulem Pass: First send foot soldiers to take and
hold the closest hilltops. Then the road-bound unit moves even
with these pickets. A second group takes the next hilltops, while
waiting for the first to descend safely. This was the most likely
time of ambushówhen a soldier thought he wouldn't be attacked,
and all that was necessary was to slip back down the hill and
march on.
It was then that the sandy rock would become a ululating group of
warriors, ten, perhaps twenty, who'd rush the pickets, daggers
flashing, and before anyone could move there'd be naked bodies
strewn on the rock, the Men of the Hills retreating with their loot
and, if Isa was not good, a captive or two for later amusement.
I'd been taught there were seldom big victories when Numantians
fought the Men of the Hillsóperhaps one or two bodies would be
found, more likely only bloodstains and silence, and once again
the column would move on.
We went into Sulem Pass at no more than a half-mile an hour, if
that. I was angry, angry at these strange orders that had sent a
foolish diplomat to certain death, and at the snails I commanded,
but mostly at my own inability to think of a plan, any plan.
Again the pass narrowed, and I saw, perched high above, the
ruins of a stone fort Numantia had carved out two centuries
earlier, when our country had a king, instead of being governed
by the Rule of Ten, and before we'd allowed the Kaiti, with the
implicit support of the Maisir, to negotiate us all the way back to
the flatlands.
These days Kait was as the Men of the Hills preferred itó
f> anarchic, where every man had an enemy and every tribe a
desperate feud. The achim on the throne in Sayana was barely
more than a figurehead and, being himself a brigand, someone
who used the royal advantage for his clan's private wars.
The pass widened, and there was a small village, and the legend
on my map said They pretend to be allies of any traveler, but turn
not your back. Let one of them drink water, taste fruit, before you
buy.
I saw only half a dozen old men, a few babes, and no women at
all. The last was unsurprisingóthe Men of the Hills prize their
women as possessions to be kept hidden, for fear a bolder or
stronger man will steal them. But that there were no men, leaning
insolently on spear or sheathed saber, was alarming.
Troop Guide Bikaner told me this most likely meant the men
were araiding. "That'll be th' happiest explanation, though," he
said.
As we went deeper into the pass, crawling along, I saw, on the
highest crag above me, a bit of movement that might have been
someone watching. Then came a mirror-flash, as some- [ one
signaled our presence to others, deeper in the pass.
i A mile or so farther on, we came on another human presence.
Bodies, half-rotten, were scattered in a draw that led up from the
trail. They were black, dead more than a few days, and decaying.
'
One of my men dismounted, and ran to the corpses. As he did,
kites fluttered up, skrawking at their meal being disturbed. He
reported they were hillmen, and all were naked, stripped I bare.
He'd seen an arrow shaft protruding from one's ribs, andknew by
the markings it came from a hillman's bow.
ï
"I reckoned," Troop Guide Bikaner said, "back there if th' village
men were out just raidin', that was the best that could be.
This"óand his hands swept across the tiny battlegroundó \
"means worse. Feudin' at least. Just as likely buildin' themselves
up for war."
"Against whom?" I asked.
"Anybody," Bikaner said. "Mebbe th' folks in Sayana that .
they despise for bein' weaklings who give up on th' hills. Mayhap
south, into Maisir.
"But most likely north. Into Urey. Been a few years since they
struck at us, an' th' thought of how rich it's got since they raided's
got to be makin' 'em lick their lips, thinkin' of th' sweets t' be had."
He was most likely rightóI'd heard in the Lancers' mess it had
been almost five years since there'd been a good plague or a
better war, which was when promotions fell like leaves in a
windstorm. It would make a grand preamble for such a war if the
Men of the Hills could parade a high-ranking Numantian head on
a lance.
Captain Mellet's sergeants were shouting, and I saw pickets
running down from the latest hill they'd outposted, and other
warrants were calling for their squad to be ready to mount the
next ridge and we were ready for our next round of leap-the-frog.
It was completely intolerable. The day was growing late; the sun
was already in the center of the heavens.
Very well, I thought. I was put in command of this force.
Therefore I shall command it. It was increasingly obvious that I
was, if not intended, then surely expected, to fail. I would always
rather fail doing something than waiting or doing nothing.
I rode to the wagon Captain Mellet was in.
"Captain, I wish you to take charge of this train, including the
cavalry's wagons and spare mounts."
The man took a minute to think, then nodded acceptance.
"Very well, Legate a Cimabue. But you?"
"The cavalry will ride on, without stopping, until we find the
resident-general."
"But Legate..." and he looked about, saw he could be overheard,
and jumped from his seat and hurried to my horse. "Legate,
that's against standing orders. No unit moves without its support,
except in battle or on patrol."
"Afy orders, sir," and I put finality into my tones, "were to escort
the resident-general through Sulem Pass to his new post
in Sayana. Those are the ordersóthe only orders I propose to
follow."
I didn't wait for his response, but shouted for Bikaner. Fill
canteens from the water barrels on the wagons, each trooper
draw one pound of dry rationsóbeef jerked with mountain
berriesóand we would ride. Ten minutes later we clattered off, at
the trot, down the trail.
I sent two riders ahead, with orders to stay within eyesight of the
troop, to wait short of any possible ambuscade until we drew
almost to it, and then to ride through at the gallop. I changed
these scouts every half hour.
This was a deadly risk, but I thought it had a chance of
succeeding. First, because we were moving faster than the
hillmen could, even though they had the fleetness of mountain
antelope afoot, and also because no one traveled through the
Border States in this manner.
I wished we had infantry in support, since sending cavalry
through broken terrain without keen eyes afoot to spot a
spearman lying in wait is waiting to be destroyed. I had even
dreamed of a way to move them faster either to have them ride
behind us, and dismount when we made contact; or even
hanging onto our stirrups, which I'd done as a lad when there
were five of us and only one horse. Hard on horses, hard on
menó but I thought it could work. This later became one of the
emperor's most prized tactics to surprise the enemy. But I had
not time to explain it to Captain Mellet nor to train his troops in the
method.
We moved until it was too dark to see, then made a cold camp,
lighting no fires, and keeping half the men on watch.
I slept not at all, and when I could distinguish my hand in front of
my face ordered the men up and on.
Two hours after sunrise, we heard the screams of dying horses,
the shouts of men fighting for their lives.
I found later that Laish Tenedos had kept his party moving from
first to last light, hurrying to get through Sulem Pass to offer the
least temptation to the Men of the Hills, not believing * in the
storied safe-conduct pass. This day, they'd set out at dawn, and
had reached the plateau where the Sulem River that came from
Sayana curved and left the pass.
They'd seen no enemies, been harassed by no hidden bowmen.
They thought that a good sign, none of the party having any
experience in these mountains, whereas a Lancer would have
taken the greatest alarm, knowing some terrible and vast trap was
being laid ahead.
I heard the noise, just as the two men on point galloped back and
reported fightingóthey thought it was the party we sought,
because there were elephants downóat the ford.
I was about to shout for the attack, just as the books say foolish
cavalrymen do whenever they hear the clang of swords, but
caught myself, remembering there might well be flankers ready,
and we could hurtle straight into another trapó this one prepared
for rescuers.
I told Lance Major Wace to ready the troop for battle and, with
Troop Guide Bikaner, rode forward a ways, then dismounted and
went on foot until we could see the valley in front. We flattened
and considered the scene.
From this moment until the end of the battle, I shall describe the
action as clearly as I can, since this, the Meeting Between
Damastes a Cimabue and the Young Seer Tenedos, at the Battle
of Sulem Pass, is one of the best-known scenes in Numantia's
recent history, familiar in paintings, songs, tales, and murals and
presented in a manner either foolishly romantic, absurd, or so
filled with Great Portent it should be a religious ceremony. Only
our final stand, years later on the blood-soaked field of
Cambiaso, is more widely portrayed.
Let us start with the facts of the battle. There were perhaps Men
of the Hills on one side, and less than Numan-tians on the other.
This was fairly large for a fight in the Border States, but hardly the
horizon-to-horizon clash I've seen it painted as.
I saw no anxious gods overhanging the battlefield, nor demons
fighting on either side. Nor had there been any magical
emissaries imploring me to hurry and save the emperor-to-be.
* Finally I saw no grand sorcerous figure standing in the ruins
hurling thunderbolts as if he had become a manifestation of
Saionji herself.
What I saw was a desolate, desertlike valley, the ground dotted
with scrub brush and, every now and then, a scraggling j plot of
worked ground that might have been called a farm. The f Sulem
River curled through this valley, and the road crossed it at a ford.
Here was where the ambush had been sprung. Two ele- ; phants
lay dead just on the other side of the ford, and there ; were
Numantians crouched behind their corpses, using them for
shelter. There were four carts, one on the far shore, one
overturned in midstream, and two others on the bank closer to
me. Two other elephants were kneeling beside those carts, their
handlers trying to keep them calm.
There were bodies of horses, oxen, and men scattered j around
the wreck of the caravan. But there were still Numantians alive,
still fighting.
I I looked for the enemy, and finally saw some hillmen, well
camouflaged in their sandy robes behind rocks on the far shore.
Downstream, I saw another party of tribesmen wading the river,
about to encircle Tenedos's men.
"Not bad, sir," Troop Guide Bikaner said. "Th' hillmen waited til th'
seer's party was fordin', at th' time of most confusion, when
ever'body's worried about the horses breakin' free, and waterin'
th' oxen, an' then they hit 'em hard. 'Course, if I were handlin' the
ambush I would've hit 'em short of th' river, an' let those that
survived th' first clash go mad smellin' but never tastin' water." He
looked on, and tsked. "I'm afeared those aren't th' finest hillmen
I've seen. I see no sign they've got anything in th' way of a
reserve, either."
"Very good, Troop Guide, and I'm sure you have a grand future
as a dacoit," I said briskly. "One column detached, put Lance
Major Wace in charge of that, to deal with those people crossing
the river. The rest of us will take the main body at the charge.
Straight down the road at the trot, at the walk across the river,
which doesn't look more than hock-high, then charge in arrow
formation at the horn. Go through them... there," I went on,
pointing, "sweep back and mop them up. Pay no mind to the
resident-general's partyóI don't want them to slow us."
Troop Guide Bikaner made no response. I turned.
"You're sure those're are all th' orders you wish t' give, sir?" he
asked, face blank.
I'll wager I reddened, but I didn't snap at him, so the madness of
battle had not yet taken me. "What am I missing?"
"Look close, sir. There's magic on th' field."
I gazed more closely, and now saw the haze floating around the
ford, something that might have been taken for heat waves or
even light dust. I'd seen it only once before, at a demonstration at
the lycee. This "haze," and I'm not describing it well, but that is
the only word I know that fits, seemed centered around the
corpse of the elephant closest to the enemy positions. Not far
from it was a white horse, three or four spears stuck in its body.
I heard shouts from below, saw the Numantians rise and volley
arrows, at their attackers. In their center was an unarmed man,
who was waving his hands, making an incantation. I remembered
Captain Mellet had said the resident-general was a seer, and
rejoiced that Tenedos evidently still lived.
Bikaner pointed to a hillock a bit removed from the fighting, to
the east. I saw a man standing atop it, a man wearing long robes
that marked him a wizard, and there was the same shimmer
about his body I saw around the battleground.
"There's one of their wizards," Bikaner said. He craned. "Another
there, back of their lines along th' river. An' there'll be a third___"
He twisted and looked upward and to our right.
"There's th' bastard. I was wrong about th' battle plan, sir. It's a
good un. They've got three magicians, an' th' center of th' triangle
that's made, givin' focus to the magic, is where they hit 'em. Th'
spells'll be th' same as they gen'rly useóconfusion, fear, feelin'
helplessóbut most of all bein' wi'out skill, not able t'aim a bow
right, or strike true wi' y'r sword."
I saw the third man, atop a crag just beyond us, above the
road. I swear I could hear, from three directions, the low rumble
of chanting.
"Yon diplomat, sir, may have some magickin' powers," Bikaner
went on, "but not when there's three t'his one."
"Then let's even the odds before we take them."
"We c'n do that, sir," Bikaner agreed, ran for his horse, and
clattered back to the troop. Twelve of my best archers were
dismounted and, with saber-ready escort, split into two parties.
The first started up the narrow draw that led to the rock closest to
us, where the hillmen's seer continued roaring out his spells,
paying no heed to anything around him. The others went for the
second Kaiti magician to the east.
Within minutes one party was within bowshot of the nearest
wizard, and, aiming carefully, fired. Three arrows buried
themselves in the wizard's chest, and it seemed as if the world
shook. I heard a screech of pain, as if the man were next to me,
and the sorcerer crumpled and fell. Soldiers scurried to the
summit, to make sure he was, and stayed, dead.
As arranged, we did not wait to see if the second party of archers
was successful in taking out another Kaiti magician, but went into
our attack.
"At the walk... forward..."
Cheetah Troop, Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers, crested the hill
into the valley of the Sulem River.
I heard shouts, cries of welcome, and then howls of surprise
from across the river as the hillmen saw us, but I paid them no
mind.
We reached the ford and splashed into it.
"Sound the charge!" I cried and my trumpeter raised the long
bullhorn and sent the challenge echoing across the valley.
As it rang forth, I saw something I shall never forget, one of the
most noble sights I've witnessed in battle.
One of the elephants I thought dead, who must have been a war
beast before he grew too old and was shamefully made into a
cargo animal, heard the blare in the dying recesses of his mind,
and rolled up, staggering to his feet, trunk lifting, curling, and his
own war cry bugled back at us, and he stumbled a * few steps,
trying to obey the long-forgotten command, and fell dead.
Our lances were couched and we thundered into the charge, and
I was at the formation's arrow-tip. Robed men were before me,
one drawing his bow, and my lance struck him fair, the first man
I'd ever slain, and sent him spinning away. I wheeled my horse,
yanking my lance free, and came back on the line of tribesmen,
and took down another hillman, then cast aside my lance and
came in with the saber, my troop following like we were a single
horseman.
The hillmen may have been bastards, but they were brave
bastards. I saw no sign that they were breaking and running,
which is usually the case when soldiers afoot are surprised by
cavalry.
Instead, the Men of the Hills held their line and then
counterattacked, trying to take down our horses with spears, and
slashing at us as we rode past.
It was a brutal, bloody melee, men shouting, hacking at each
other, gut-ripped horses going down screaming, and rage
exploding, sabers too clean for this work, daggers and clawed
hands savaging at their enemies.
A line of hillmen came at us, almost like regulars in their order,
and I cried warning to my men.
Then the world hummed about me, and I saw something
unimaginable. Not far from me a spear was embedded in the
sand. I saw it pull free from the ground, with no one close to it,
and then arc through the air, hard-thrown, and bury itself in a
hillman's chest. Fear coursed through me, and I saw other
abandoned weaponsóarrows, swords, daggers, javelinsójoin
the battle as if wielded by invisible warriors.
I saw the man who must be Seer Tenedos standing in the open,
and I heard his voice, crashing like the thunder as he sent his
spell out against the tribesmen.
The hillmen will stand against almost any enemyóbut not
sorcery.
Now there were screams of terror, and the Men of the Hills broke,
throwing their weapons aside in panic and running, but
the remorseless spell continued, and men were cut down as
they tried to escape.
Then the battlefield was empty of all except corpses, wounded,
and victors.
Lance Major Wace's column galloped across the river toward us,
shouting victory, and I knew they'd eliminated the attempted
attack from the rear.
I prodded Lucan into a trot, toward the ford, to Tenedos and the
remains of his party.
Magicians are supposed to tower over all, their fierce beards and
clawed hands striking fear into all.
The man who came toward me was anything but that, I saw as I
slid from my horse.
He was a little older than I, but still under thirty, and fairly short,
more than a foot smaller than I am. He was black-haired, his hair
worn short in the current Nician fashion, and his face was round,
not unhandsome, almost boyish. He wore dark breeches and a
coat, well-tailored, but they failed to conceal his slight paunch.
But it was his eyes that reached out, black, blazing like demon-
fire, and took me in their grasp.
His voice came, and it was the commanding thunder of Irisu
himself, but the words were completely unexpected: "I am Seer
Laish Tenedos. You must be my executioner."
THREE A Magician's Dreams L_j or a moment I thought the seer
had gone mad. But I "* before I could respond, a smile grew on
his face, and JL I basked in the warmth of a spring sun.
"Ah, but I see I am wrong," Tenedos said. "I sense you mean me
no harm, and I humble myself with apologies. Consider me the
least of men who insulted the one who saved his life." He bowed
low.
I saluted, and introduced myself, my mission, and my
assignment. I explained the problems we'd had, from a seeming
error in orders to the slow pace we'd been able to make through
the pass. Tenedos nodded.
"We shall discuss this further, and perhaps I can add to your
knowledge. I note from your speech that you are from Cimabue,
eh?" I braced myself for some probably generous but
demeaning comment, but instead Tenedos said, "Then we shall
be the closest of associates and in time, I hope, friends, for I,
too, am from a land far from the cabals and conspiracies of
Nicias and consequently am frequently chaffed about my origins.
I am from the islands of Palmeras."
I knew the lands he spoke of, but only from my map-reading
classes at the lycee. They are a cluster of islands off Numantia's
western shore, the largest giving its name to the
archipelago. The inhabitants are nearly as maligned as
Cimabuans, infamous for their long memories for a wrong, their
willingness to take injury, and their hotheadedness. On the other
hand, they're also noted for loyalty to a friend and truthfulness, in
so long as it does not interfere with righting a wrong. Also like
Cimabuans, they're looked at in Nicias as distinctly lesser beings
instead of as fellow Numantians.
"As for that great insult I laid at your feet, allow me to explain why
I erred after we have dealt with this mess."
We treated our wounded and put our wounded animals out of
their agony. There were no Men of the Hills to succoró their
wounded had either been dragged away by their fellows, crawled
off, or been killed. War is ruthless on the Frontiers; our wounded
would have been treated similarly, although their deaths would
not have been the quick ones my soldiers granted.
After that the wagon in the river was righted, and such goods as
could be salvaged brought ashore. There were enough bullocks
surviving to pull all the wagons, although our pace would be
slowed since two of them must be linked in tandem.
The corpses of the two elephants were dragged together by
teams of bullocks. I spared a moment to pray that the brave soul
of that animal who'd attempted to join my charge would be
advanced on the Wheel, and perhaps return as a babe who
would grow to be a warrior.
Then the bodies of the bullocks, horses, and men were stacked
around the elephants. Already the hot sun was making the blood-
stink rise.
Tenedos ordered a chest taken from a wagon, and took out
certain items. He sprinkled oil on some of the bodies, then found
a small twig, and touched it to the drying blood of men, horses,
oxen, and elephants in turn, then finally to a bit of the oil.
He said he was ready, but first he asked if I could assemble my
men, as he had a few words to say. It was unusual, but I obeyed,
leaving only the sentries to watch for another attack and for our
infantry coming up the pass road.
*
"Men of the Ureyan Lancers," he began, and once more his voice
was magically enhanced, so it rang across the valley. "You have
served Laish Tenedos well, and your deeds shall never be
forgotten. You are warriors, real Numantians, and I am proud to
know you, and count you my comrades, even though we met but
a few hours ago on this battleground.
"I am a seer, and I will make you a promise, now, here, and seal
it in the blood of our fallen comrades. There are great times
ahead, great deeds to be done and great prizes to be reaped.
You, who have shown your courage and loyalty this day, I hope
shall be among those who are richened by what is to come.
"I sorrow with you for your brothers who fell today, although their
return to the Wheel is blessed, for they died doing good, and this
will be remembered by the gods. Perhaps they shall return, and
be among us once more, and live in the glorious times that shall
come."
He bowed his head, and we did the same. I marveled at his
wordsóit was as if Tenedos were commander of this troop or a
general instead of some diplomat we had been ordered to escort
just as we'd done for others from the court of the Rule of Ten. I
had heard other soft-handed shifting-eyed government
emissaries blather about how they were soldiers at heart, and
seen the rudeness or quiet contempt their words were held in.
But not now, not by any of the Lancers, nor by me. Laish
Tenedos might dress as a government officer, but he spoke as a
true leader, and I began to believe I would follow and obey him
gladly.
Tenedos had set up a brazier, and he kindled it with a spark-
thrower. A small flame rose, and he chanted:
"Listen, unguent. Feel the warmth Feel the flame You serve the
gods. You carry our lost
* You serve Saionji. Fire, burn Fire, serve."
As he spoke, he touched the twig to the tiny flame on the brazier,
and as he did a great fire roared into life on the nearby pyre,
soaring high into the sky, far higher than any oil-fed flame could.
Tenedos watched, and a grim smile touched his lips.
"Now, let that be seen in Nicias as a portent of what is to come,"
he said quietly, and I doubt if anyone besides myself heard him.
We moved a short distance upriver, away from the flames, but
close enough so we could see the ford, and set up defensive
positions. I made sure my sentries were properly posted, then
found a rock to sit on while Tenedos's cook, assisted by a few of
my men who claimed ability over a camp fire, prepared dinner
from the luxurious viands the resident-general had been carrying.
Tenedos had told me to take whatever was needed for dinner,
saying, "What might have been a boon to the Achim Baber
Fergana is better suited as provender for your honest man."
Once more, what might have been empty hyperbole I felt to be
honest praise.
Tenedos approached. "Now," he said, "since we have a few
moments of peace, and there is no one within listening range, I
shall explain why I said what I said when we met"
He asked permission to sit, and I waved him to another rock,
hoping I'd get a full explanation. I did, but it was as odd as his
behavior.
"Have you ever known a man who suddenly decided all the world
and all the gods had turned against him and were conspiring to
destroy him?"
I had, at the lycee. One of the more promising cadets had gotten
the idea the staff was trying to poison him, and he was warned by
secret messages from the gods who wrote in private letters of
flame across the sky. Seers and herbalists | tried to treat him, but
with no success, and he was returned to his sorrowing family. A
few months later we were told that he'd killed himself, in a frenzy
of terror because he now believed even his own blood was
involved with the plot. I nodded.
"Good. So then be aware some of what I'm going to say may well
sound mad. I will only ask that you keep your judgment of my
madness to yourself, and do nothing about it until I'm completely
irrationalóor else proven to be right."
I was looking at the Seer Tenedos with a bit of alarm by now.
That sun-smile flashed again, and I felt warmed, and somehow
knew Tenedos was sane, perhaps more so than I was.
"I'll start my argument at the beginning.
"Don't you consider it odd a seer like myself has been appointed
to the position of resident-general?"
I did, but assumed Tenedos had some friends in the
government, and this was a political payment, even if most
Numantians would consider it as valuable a gift as a quadruple
amputee would think scabies.
"That's hardly the experience one would wish a man to have for
such a posting, unless it were to a land ruled by sorcerers, which
Kait is not," Tenedos went on. "The reason I was chosen for this
post, most dangerous and as far away from Nicias as it is
possible to get, is I am an unpopular man with radical ideas."
That, just from his behavior, I might well have assumed. I guess
my opinion was obvious, because again Tenedos smiled.
"I was sent out here so honest Nicians would no longer be
exposed to my heresies. I also now believe I was intended to
die, considering those 'special' orders I received telling me to
leave at once without waiting for my military escort, and of the
obviously nonexistent safe passage.
"I could now suggest more evidence. I mean no offense, Legate
Damastes a Cimabue, but I find it very unusual to see a full troop
of cavalry commanded by a very junior officer, let alone if his
column includes infantry, with a captain at its head, almost as if
that legate were being set up to be the skittle the balls will be
rolled at."
I kept my face stony.
"Very good, Legate," Tenedos approved. "I would have been
surprised and disappointed if you'd made any response. Let me
ask a few questions. You only need respond if the answer is yes
to any of them: Are you a particular favorite in your regiment? Has
your unit suffered a lot of casualties recently among the officer
corps? Are you known as having any great skills in dealing with
obnoxious and arrogant emissaries such as myself?"
Perhaps a smile came and went at that last, but I remained silent.
"Also as I expected," Tenedos said. "Let us make some
assumptions. The first is the Rule of Ten was accurate when they
said Kait, the Border States, is preparing to rise once again. Let
us further suppose," Tenedos continued, "the Rule of Ten might
wish to crush this unrest with an iron boot heel, such as has not
been done for a generation or more. If that were the case, would
not the death of their envoy be a perfect reason for sending the
heavy battalions, not merely a punitive expedition, into Kait?
"With that as Numanria's reason, the Kaiti could appeal to Maisir
all they wished, but it would be unlikely King Bairan would
respond. Ah, I see you are unaware the Kaiti have always played
Numantia and Maisir against each other, so neither country can
bring the Border States into its dominion without the risk of
offending its great neighbor.
"The murder of a resident-general might also be enough of a
reason for the state of Dara to finally extend its borders to
include Urey, and end the three-sided argument between us,
Kallio, and Maisir about its proper ownership."
"I know nothing about such things," I said. "I am but a soldier, and
not political."
This time Tenedos's smile was pitying.
"Damastes, my friend," he said, and his voice was soft, "the time
is coming near when all Numantians will have to be political."
He was about to go on, but a sentry cried out that Captain
Mellet's column was coming up the road, and in minutes the dust-
boil was close enough for us all to make it out.
I had not expected the infantry until the next day, but Mel-let said
he had been shamed by my dash, and had forced double-speed
on the marching soldiers, even allowing them, five at a time, to
ride on the carts for a break, and chancing ambush by marching
an hour after dark and an hour before sunrise. "I thought," he
said, "that'd be unexpected of us, and so the hillmen might not
have time to set their traps, and so it's proven."
Camp routine and determining the new order of march occupied
the rest of the day. All the while, I kept working at Seer
Tenedos's words. I am not a swift thinker; all know that. But I am
most thorough, and worry at something until it comes clear in my
mind. But what Tenedos had said was still puzzling me when the
sun rose and we set off toward Sayana.
Now that we did not have to race on, we could move as common
practice and logic dictated, putting flankers out when the country
was open, and sending pickets to take each hilltop before we
passed under it. The country was less sharp, less broken, so the
peaks took less time to clamber up and down, and we made
acceptable speed.
The first two villages we passed were as the first: deserted
except for babes, women, and ancients. The tribes were
planning something, and I hoped it was longer-ranged than the
obliteration of my command.
The third village was as the other twoóalmost. Laish Tenedos
was riding in front, beside me, on Rabbit. I cannot say I heard
anything, but turned for some reason, and saw a boy appear from
behind a wall, drawing an old bow nearly as big as he was, aimed
full at my chest! I had no time to duck aside, and knew my doom,
hearing warning shouts from the column when the rotten wood
snapped in two, just below the grip. The boy shouted with rage,
and was about to dart away when Lance Karjan swept up at the
gallop and caught the lad by an arm, pulling him, kicking and
squirming like an eel, up across his saddle.
I dismounted, and walked to Karjan's horse. I grabbed the boy's
hair and lifted his head, so I could see his face.
"So you wanted to kill me?"
"Chishti!" the boy swore. Chishti is a very rude word in one of the
hill dialects used to describe a man who has slept with his
mother. "Chishti Numantian!" What more reason could he need?
Tenedos laughed. "A lion cub always thinks he's full grown,
doesn't he?"
"Shall I kill 'im, sir?" Lance Karjan growled, hand on his dagger.
"No," I said. "Set him down. I don't murder babes."
The soldier hesitated, then obeyed, tossing the boy down with
one hand. He should have sprawled, but twisted in midair, and
landed on his feet. He stood half-crouched, exactly like a trapped
beast of prey.
"Go on," I said. "When you try again, remember to use a bow
that's been oiled, not your grandfather's that's dried on the wall
for a generation."
For this advice the boy spat in my face, and was gone,
disappearing into a twisting alley between huts before I could
wipe my eyes clear.
"Thus," Tenedos said, mock-mournfully, "is how mercy is
returned in these hills. Perhaps you should have killed him,
Legate. Cabs grow to be lions, and then are hellish to hunt
down."
"Maybe I should have," I said, taking a canteen from Lucan's
saddle and sluicing the spittle off my face. I saw from the
expression on Lance Karjan's face that he agreed completely
with that. "But I'll chance the boy remembers what I did, and
maybe, when he grows up, if he grows up, which seems unlikely
in these lands, will return my boon to someone." I glanced at
Karjan. "Don't bother showing me what you think of that idea,
soldier. And thank you for being so quick. Next time, I must be a
little swifter."
I got a smile from the bearded cavalryman, and we rode on.
Indeed, the People of the Hills were all the same. No doubt the r
* women and the old ones were uniformly wishing they could
have a dagger and one minute's chance at one of us with our
back turned, and then two minutes to rifle the corpse.
Sulem Pass opened out, until it was almost a mile wide, the hills
around it low and rolling; so as long as we carefully approached
the roadside gullies that cut the land like knife scars, we would
have adequate warning of an attack.
Laish Tenedos rode in silence for a while, then said, "Now that
boy poses a good riddle for a judge who has yet to take his
appointed bench. Should I be merciful, and pray this changes the
endless back-and-forth of murder begetting more murder
causing still more bloodshed? Or should I choose the other way
of ending these problems? Dead men carry no feuds."
I did not wish to comment, but that did give me an opening.
"Yesterday, sir," I said, choosing my words carefully, "you said
you hold radical ideas. There are many people who believe many
things in Nicias, some far beyond radical, but the Rule of Ten
does not generally silence them, or... send them out to be slain,
until they have a following, or at any rate a chamber where
audiences may gather."
"A good point, Damastes." This was the second use of my first
name, and from then on it was continual, except in formal
circumstances, most unusual for the vast difference in rank
between us. But for some reason it seemed proper. "I'll tell you a
bit of myself.
"I am from Palmeras, as I said. Of my family, I'll say nothing now,
save that they gave me enough money so I could devote myself
to the study of magic, since I'd shown evidence of the Great
Talent as a child and, not understanding me well, left me alone. I
returned the favor, although, if circumstances come to pass, I
may find use for two of my brothers in the fullness of time.
"When I was sixteen I was fortunate enough to win a competition
that enabled me to leave Palmeras for Nicias, and complete my
studies.
"Sometimes," he said, "I dream of my island, and the sharp, dry
smell of the rosemary under a summer sun, or the tang of
our resiny wine, and wish I'd never left. But even then, I sensed
my destiny."
I'd begun to let go of the idea that Tenedos was a madman, but
this word, destiny, made me wonder once more.
"I apprenticed myself to a master wizard," Tenedos went on,
"and studied under him for five years. When I was twenty-two, I
knew I must set my own curriculum, be my own master.
"I traveled for four more years, visiting every state in Numantia,
studying the Art under any savant who would have me. But I knew
what I sought would lie beyond sorcery, and so I read greatly
about our history and especially about our wars.
"Do not sneer, but I sometimes wish my life had taken a slightly
different turn, and I came from a military family, because I feel an
affinity for the battlefield, for the army. I wondered then, and
wonder now, why magic has played so little a part in the great
battles, and know, deep in my guts, this shall not always be the
case.
"But that is for the future, and I was talking about my past. One
day, sitting at the feet of a hermit in faraway Jafarite, I knew
suddenly and completely what actions must be taken, and taken
quickly, to save my beloved Numantia. I returned to Nicias last
year, and that was when my troubles began.
"I set up practice as a seer, but discouraged the common visitor
who wanted no more than a love potion or his future cast, and
slowly, slowly, began to amass the clients I needed. At first it was
a rich man wanting to know if the gods favored a course of
action, or a merchant who wanted spells to keep his caravan safe
when it went out. I helped, sometimes with sorcery, more
frequently with common sense. Then came others, still more
highly placed, men in the government. First they wanted potions
or spells, then they stayed for my advice on other matters.
'Two of the Rule of Ten I now count as buyers of my wares who
also, and more importantly, seem to be listening to my ideas.
* "That was why I was sent out from Nicias, Damastes. The
others in the Rule of Ten, and those in their hierarchy, are afraid
of my words, afraid that the truth they hold will ring true for all of
Numantia."
I looked about nervously, making sure no one else was within
hearing. Tenedos saw my concern.
"Don't worry, Damastes. I'm no streetside crazy, collaring anyone
who comes close and spouting his babble. What I am saying is
for your ears only.
"In its proper time, though, it shall be heard throughout our entire
kingdom!" His eyes flamed as they had when first we met.
"My beliefs are simple," he said. "Our country has held too long
in the comfortable furrows of the past, like a farmer's ox pulling
the plow every season through the same field. Umar the Creator
is not paying attention to this world now. We must turn away from
Irisu the Preserver, who we've followed too long, and instead
follow the Supreme Spirit's third manifestation, Saionji. It is time
to destroy, and then we shall be able to see clearly how to
rebuild!
"Numantia has been too long without a king!"
This was more than just radicalism, but very close to high
treason. I should have told him, as an officer of the army, granted
my sash by the Rule of Ten, that he must say no more, or I would
be forced to take appropriate action, and then spurred my horse
away.
Instead, I listened on because, in truth, his words were no
stronger than I'd heard my father and others say.
Numantia had been built by royalty, and ruled by several
dynasties over the centuries, sometimes changing rulers by
violence, sometimes by intermarriage, occasionally when a line
died out. Although this is not how history was taught, about years
before I was born the king had died in battle, his only son far too
young to take the throne. As is common, a regency was
appointed. But uncommonly, it was not one man, but a group of
ten of the king's most trusted counselors.
Three years later, the heir also died, and the kingdom faced
disaster, since there was no one left in direct descent. Whether
there were other septs of the family, and whether they had
acceptable candidates for the throne, our writings are silent,
although years later I had scholars search the archives to satisfy
my curiosity, and they said the records had been thoroughly
cleansed of any reference to other kinfolk.
In any event, these counselors, who called themselves the Rule
of Ten, took charge, and ruled in the beginning with at least as
much wisdom and consideration as many kings. The problem
aroseóand you must remember I knew none of this at the
timeówhen they did not formalize their position, but insisted on
the fiction that they were merely caretakers for Numantia until a
proper ruler was found. As time passed the counselors grew old,
and appointed successors, and so it had gone until the present,
never legitimized by law, but limping onward, improvising, through
the years. Since the Rule of Ten were always going on about the
need for a king, custom did not make their rule familiar, and
Numantians were always reminded of their supposedly
temporary authority.
Numantia still existed as a country, but barely. Dara, the biggest
state, and also the seat of the Rule of Ten in Nicias, was the
flagship, although of late our neighboring state of Kallio had
stirred awake, led by a firebrand of a prime minister named
Chardin Sher.
"Numantia cannot continue as it has," Tenedos said. "Without a
firm hand controlling the kingdom, it is inevitable that states will
fall away, and eventually come to regard themselves as
independent kingdoms. Then we'll see what properly would be
called civil war, but that term will be false, since Numantia will be
no more than a legal fiction by then.
"Some say," he added grimly, "it's not much more than that now.
If the situation is not turned around soon, it shall decline into war,
and then anarchy. All Nature agrees: There is either order, or the
chaos of the maelstrom!"
I was a bit skeptical. "You paint a dark picture, Seer. But I've
heard doom-criers before, and Numantia has managed to
stumble on for quite a few years without catastrophe."
\ "The past, my good fellow, has almost nothing to do with the
present or future," Tenedos said. "I can feel the unrest of
Nicias, in Dara, in all my travels throughout Numantia. The
people are without leaders, without direction, and they know it!
"It takes no use whatever of my powers to see a small incident in
the city suddenly striking sparks, and the mob ravening through
the streets. Would the Rule of Ten be able to handle a
catastrophe such as that? Would Nicias's own council? I have
grave doubts. Even if they called for order, what of the troops I
saw stationed around the city? I mean no offense to the army you
serve in, the real army, but I thought most of the soldiers I saw in
Nicias little but perfumed puppets who think their armor serves to
hang decorations on."
That had been pretty much my opinion as well, but I said nothing.
Families do not take their quarrels or opinions out of the home.
"Poor Numantia," Tenedos went on. "Enemies within, enemies
without, and yet we do nothing.
"Consider Kallio. Chardin Sher may be only prime minister, but
he rules the country like it was his own. What would happen if he
decided to overthrow the weaklings of the Rule of Ten? Would
Dara rise in their support? Would the other states? And then
would Numantia be swallowed up in civil war?
"What of Maisir? What moots it if we've been at peace for
centuries? King Bairan is young, having no more than three or
four years on either of us. Youth is the time of hunger, of looking
for more. What would happen if he decided to annex the Border
States tomorrow?
"That is why I hope my theory that the Rule of Ten plans to
exercise more control in Kait is correct, although my neck little
loves the manner they possibly planned to institute it.
"But suppose I'm wrong. Suppose the situation continues with
nothing being done to settle the Border States? Suppose Maisir
does move into Kait? The Border States have always been a
buffer between our kingdoms. But what if this ends? Maisir also
lays claim to Urey.
"If they sent armies through Sulem Pass, with the intent of
occupying Urey, would we be able to stop them? More
importantly, since none of us seem to think of ourselves as
Numan-tians these days, but as Kallians, Darans, Palmarans,
Cimabuans, would we have the will to stand against Bairan?
"What do you think, Damastes a Cimabue?"
I considered what I would say carefully. Tenedos had said much,
but one thing he had not told me is who he thought might reign in
Numantia. But then, as I thought on, he did not need to.
I finally thought I had the right words.
"I think I've heard too many 'if's,' " I said nervously. "And I'm
afraid of running into trouble if I start thinking that far ahead, and
will be like a man who lets his midday meal be poached by his
cat while he's worried about whether his dog might steal the
steak he has planned for dinner."
Tenedos looked at me silently for a very long time, then suddenly
and unexpectedly burst into laughter.
"Legate," he said, "if anyone ever says to me that Cimabuans are
not subtle, but blockheads who can speak only the truth, I shall
laugh them out of my presence.
"That was the best nonanswer to a question I have ever heard
outside the court of the Rule of Ten.
"You will do very well, Damastes. Very well indeed. So let's start
thinking about our midday meal, which is a violent little province
called Kait, and how we can keep most of its inhabitants from
killing each other and also Numantians, as well as keeping our
own heads fairly well connected to our shoulders."
The next day, we rode into Sayana, capital of the Border States.
FOUR The Tiger at Night It hardly seems fifteen years ago, as I
look back on that young legate, riding beside a master magician
whose life I'd saved, my still-bloodied saber in its sheath, looking
down from the roadway at those ominous spires of Sayana in the
distance, and tasting adventure in the soft breeze.
Who was I? From where had I come?
In spite of the turns of fortune, I consider myself the least
remarkable of men. I never thought of myself as having been
gifted by the gods, as some others have claimed about
themselves.
I am taller than most, it is true, nearly a head taller than six feet.
Some have said my features are well made, but I have never
been able to prate about how handsome I am. In truth, in the pier
glass I think myself rather plain.
My hair is blond, and I wear it long, even now when it is sadly
thinning on top. I have always preferred to be cleanshaven,
finding a beard not only a collector of strange debris, but also
something an enemy can use as a deadly handhold in battle. I
shall add, since I intend to be as honest as I know in this memoir,
that there's a bit of vanity in this, since my face hair grows like a
bramblebush, in knots and tangles. When bearded, I look less an
imposing leader than a wandering men-
dicant, a roadside holy man who's chosen the wrong byways to
carry his begging bowl down.
I am, as is obvious from my name, from the jungled province of
Cimabue. There may be those who do not know the reputation
my people have, or the many jokes that are told about our
laziness, our unreliability, our dullness and general shiftlessness.
Let but one jape suffice: The Cimabuan who sat up until dawn on
his wedding night, because the seer who performed the marriage
ceremony told him this would be the most wonderful night of his
life.
Those tales are not, by the way, told in the presence of
Cimabuans more than once, since we also have the not
undeserved reputation for being frequently short-tempered and
implacable in our wrath. I myself spent many hours stable-
cleaning as punishment detail at the lycee for having repaid such
"jokes" with my fist My family has always been soldiers, serving
either our own state or, more often, Numantia, always
remembering the days when the country was a country, with a
king, no matter how evil, instead of a collection of states, each
ruling itself badly and seeking any opportunity to do harm to its
neighbor.
We were land rich, our estate covering many leagues of hilly
forest. The land was worked by freeholders, long beholden to my
family, since Cimabue has few slaves. It is not that we are
opposed to slavery, since all men who are not fools know that
when the Wheel turns a slave may be reborn as a master, so one
lifetime spent under the lash matters little, and may serve to
teach the soul what errors he committed to be so punished.
Our villa was less a house than a run-down fortress, having been
built generations earlier by the first of our family to use his sword
and army pension to carve holdings from the jungle, defending it
against the savage tribes that have now retreated far into the
mountains where no man dares disturb them further, since they
are armed not only with savage cunning, but also with dark magic
pulled from the earth and blessed by Jacini herself.
Even with little money in the coffers my family lived comfortably,
since we grew all that could be desired for the table r.
* and had enough herd animals, mostly zebra, cattle, and half-
tame gaur used for hauling and plowing that only children and the
beasts' drovers could safely approach. A caravan would come
through our lands twice a year, and we could trade for the other
itemsócloth, steel, spices, ironówe could not pull from our own
land.
I was the youngest child, following three sisters. I was, they say,
a very pretty babe, and so, in a normal household, would have
most likely grown up cosseted, frail, and gentle.
My father, Cadalso, would have none of that, however. In the
army, he'd seen many battles on the Frontiers, in the Border
States, and, in spite of not having any friends in high places, what
soldiers call a "priest," was able to reach the rank of captain
before losing his leg, and hence being forced to retire, at the
famous battle of Tiepolo, ironically a battle fought not against a
foreign enemy, but between Darans and our fellow Numantians,
the Kallions.
He insisted I be raised as a soldier. That meant mostly outdoors,
in all weathers, from the brain-baking Time of Heat to nearly
drowning in the typhoons of the Time of Rains. When I was but
five, I was taken to one of the estate's outbuildings, a small
structure with only two rooms: bedroom and ablution chamber.
This was my sanctuary, and no one would be allowed to enter
without my permission. I would have no servants, and was
expected to turn the vine- and filth-covered building that I
suspected had once been a cowshed into living quarters proper
for a soldier, and an officer to boot.
I started to protest, looked once into my father's eyes, fierce
behind the great prematurely white beard that covered his face,
and knew there was no use. Cursing, perhaps crying, I set to
work, sweeping and scrubbing. Then I had to take the few
coppers he gave me and bargain for my furnitureóa cot, a small
chest, and an open wardrobe. Father gave me a table of great
age that took two men to carry into my rooms.
I was never permitted to slack off. Father inspected my rooms
daily, and on the results depended what I would be allowed to do
that day.
* This, I realize, makes him sound like several species of tyrant,
but he was not. I can never remember him raising a hand to me,
to my sisters, or to my mother, Serao.
He explained his actions: "You are my son, my only son, and you
must learn strength. I sense there are trials ahead for you, and
while these will build your thews, you must also have power
within. Even the smallest wolf cub must learn to snap before his
pack will welcome him and teach him to hunt."
I did not realize until later, when I found real love myself, how
close he and my mother were. She had been the daughter of a
district seer, a man with a small reputation for honest spells and
refusing to work magic that would harm any person, no matter
how evil. I know my father could have done betteró in our
province a soldier is well thought of, and many landowners are
proud to give their daughter to a man of arms, particularly if he
hails from the area and also owns property. But my father said
that when he first saw Serao, assisting her father as he blessed
the seeds in the Time of Dews, he knew there could be no other.
She was a quiet, gentle woman, and when they married she
struck a pact with Cadalso: All that happened outside the
household was his responsibility, all within was hers. This bargain
was held to, although I can remember times when a particularly
incompetent cook or drunken groom would bring a flush to
either's cheeks, and they would be forced to bite hard on the
words that wished to come out.
I loved them both very much, and hope the turning of the Wheel
has taken them to the heights they deserve.
As for my sisters, not much need be said. We fought each other
and loved each other. In time, they made good marriagesóone
to a village subchief, one to a fairly wealthy landowner, and the
third to a soldier in our state militia, who the last I heard had risen
to the rank of color-sergeant, and now manages the family
estates. All have been blessed with children. I shall say no more
about them, for their lives have been fortunate by not being
touched by history. The gods let me send gold when I was rich
and powerful, and granted them safe and comfortable obscurity
when Emperor Tenedos and I met our downfall.
I am told most boys go through a time when they want to be this,
be that, be the other thing, from wizard to elephant leader to
goldsmith to who knows what. My mind never spun such skeins
for me. All that I ever wanted to be was as my father had
dreamed: a soldier.
On my name day, I was taken to a sorcerer my father particularly
respected, who was asked to cast the bones for my future. The
sorcerer cast once, cast thrice, and then told my parents my fate
was cloudy. He could see I would be a fighter, a mighty fighter,
and I would see lands and do deeds unimag-ined in our sleeping
district That was enough for my father, and enough for me when I
was told later.
Just before her death a few years ago my mother said the wizard
had finished his predictions with a quiet warning. She
remembered clearly what he said: "The boy will ride the tiger for
a time, and then the tiger will turn on him and savage him. I see
great pain, great sorrow, but I also see the thread of his life goes
on. But for how much farther, I cannot tell, since mists drop
around my mind when it reaches beyond that moment."
That worried my mother, but not my father. "Soldiers serve,
soldiers die," he said with a shrug. "If that is my son's lot, so be it.
It is unchangeable, and one might as well sacrifice to Umar the
Creator and convince him to return to this world, take Irisu and
Saionji to hand, and concern himself with our sorrows." That was
great wisdom, she knew, and so put the matter aside.
Somehow I knew as a boy what skills I must learn, and what
talents would be meaningless. I learned to fight, to challenge
boys from the village older and stronger than I, because that was
how a reputation was made. I was always the first to climb to the
highest branch or leap from the tallest ledge into a pool or run the
closest past a gaur as he snorted in his pen.
I listened hard when the hunters taught me archery, when my
father gave me lessons of the sword, when stablemen taught me
how to ride and care for a horse.
One of the most important things I learned from my father,
although he never advised me of this directly, was that the best
weapon for a soldier was the simplest and die most universal. He
taught me to avoid such spectacular devices as the morn-ingstar
or battle-ax for a plain sword, its hilt of the hardest wood without
device, faced with soft, dull-colored metal that might serve to
hold an enemy's edge for a vital instant, its grip of roughened
leather, preferably sharkskin, and its pommel equally simple. Its
blade should be straight, edged on both sides. It should be
made of the finest steel I could afford, even if it meant borrowing
a sum from the regimental lender. The blade should not be
forged with sillinesses like blood runnels, since those do not
work and only weaken a weapon's strength, nor should it be
elaborately engraved or set with gold. My father said he knew of
men who'd been slain just for the beauty of their swordóan
entirely ridiculous reason to die.
It should be neither too long nor short; since I became taller than
most men when fully grown, I prefer a blade length of three
inches short of a yard, and the weapon to weigh a bit over two
pounds.
He added that if I were to become a cavalryman, I'd likely be
given a saber. Most nicely I'd have to carry it until I achieved
some rank or battle experience, but then to consider well before I
kept the weapon. It was his experience that a saber was very well
and good for wild swinging in a melee, or for cutting down fleeing
soldiery, but afoot or in a man-to-man contest, he'd rather have a
bow and fifty feet between him and his opponent than the most
romantic saber. This was but one of the quiet lessons I absorbed
from him, one of those that kept me alive when all too many lay
dead around me.
I pushed my body to the limits, running, swimming, climbing,
paying no attention to the tear of muscles and silent scream of
exhaustion, but forcing myself to go one more hill, one more lap
across the pool, one more hour of sitting, shiver-
* ing, in the blind with my sling beside me while rain seeped down
and the geese did not appear.
One thing came naturally: I loved and understood horses.
Perhaps at one time I have been one, since when I was first
taken to the stables as a babe, and my father held me up in his
arms to see the great beast, I called out, as if recognizing an old
friend, and, I was told, the animal nickered a response, trotted
across the yard, and nuzzled me.
I don't glorify the animals particularly. I know they aren't terribly
intelligent, but what of that? I don't consider myself a sage,
either, and some of the finest men I've had serve under me,
serve to the death, would be hard pressed to remember today
what their lance-major told them last week.
Riding was another part of my schooling, being able to ride a
horse bareback, with a saddle, or with the bare blanket and rope
bridge someone said the nomads of the distant south preferred.
I learned how to make a horse obey without having to use the
cruel curb bit, and my spurs had balls on their tips instead of
spikes. Some horses became almost my friends; others, while
not quite enemies, were not ones I'd readily choose to saddle up
for an afternoon's outing.
It was graven into my soul that your horse always conies first: It's
watered, fed, groomed before its rider dares provide for his own
comfort, or that man is less than a beast himself. I was cursed
later by my men for driving them to their currycombs and
feedbags, but my regiments would still be mounted long after
other units were afoot, their horses foundered, cut into the
stewpot, and they themselves stumbling along as common
infantrymen.
I spent hours in my father's stables, learning everything I could
from old grooms, knowing my fate as a soldier might depend on
these beasts. I learned to treat their minor ailments and even,
when one of our horses fell desperately ill and a seer would be
called, I found a place to lie atop the rafters so I could watch
what medicines he compounded, and what spells he cast. Of
course, since I have not a single trace of the Talent, when I tried
them nothing happened, but at least I was learn-
ing how to pick a true magician from the crowd of charlatans that
crowd around an army on campaign.
Isa, god of war, who some say is an aspect of Saionji herself,
also gave me talents. I grew tall and strong, with a voice other
boys listened to and enough brains so they would follow me.
I loved to hunt, not for the kill, although that is the satisfaction the
gods give for a task performed well. I would take bow, arrows, a
small knife, tinder, and steel, and set out into the jungle. I would
be gone a day, or a week. My sisters and mother would worry, my
father pretend unconcern. If I were to be eaten by a tiger, men
the sorcerer had been wrong and it was the tiger's lifeline that
stretched long.
Far away from our estate and the surrounding villages, I learned
the real skills of soldiering: to be content while alone; to be
unafraid, or at any rate to stay calm when night closes down and
the forest noises are very dangerous, even though most of them
come from creatures that would fit in the palm of your hand; not
to be choosy about your food and to be able to live on raw fish,
partially cooked meat, or the fruits and plants around you; to be
able to sleep when drenched to the bone and the monsoon
pours. Most important of these is always to think of the next
stepóto be aware that if the rock you jump to is slippery and
sends you sprawling, you could be crippled, far from any help. Or
that the cave that looks so inviting a shelter from the
thundershower may hold a sun bear, and what then, my lad? All
of these things I learned well, and they saved my life many times
in the years that followed.
There were two other "skills" that are commonly thought of as
soldierly that my father spoke little of, but I also familiarized
myself with. One came naturally, but I failed at the other.
The latter was drinking. All men know soldiers are sponges, sops
around anything fermented or distilled, and I fear it's more than
true for most. But not for me. The smell of wine or brandy turned
my stomach as a lad, which is hardly uncommon. But the smell or
taste never became more attractive as I aged. When young,
hoping to learn the skill, I forced myself to drink with my fellows,
once as a boy when we found a wineskin that had fallen off a
merchant's cart beside the track, and the second time at the
lycee, when we cadets finished our first year of studies. I never
made a boisterous ass of myself as others did, but became very
sick early on and crawled off to be rackingly ill, and then had a
sour gut and a huge drum in my head for two days as reward. Of
course I never say I do not drink, since the world pretends to
respect but actually feels uncomfortable around an ascetic, but I
will carry a single beaker of wine for an entire evening without
anyone noticing that I but touch it to my lips. I drink small beer by
choice, and even water when I'm assured of its purity. There
have been a few times as an adult I've gotten drunk, but they
were the exception and even more foolish than when I was a boy.
The other soldierly virtue or vice is, of course, whoring. Sex
came early to me, and was the hidden blessing of my tiny house
in the jungle, since I was alone with no nurse, mother, or
busybody of a servant to keep me chaste. Perhaps my father
knew this when he gave me those two rooms whose memory I
still treasure.
Village maids, more likely infatuated with the idea of bedding the
son of the lord than having a real lust for me, would creep into my
quarters at night and teach me what they knew. After some time
and several girls befriending me, I was able to return the favor of
instruction.
There would also be the girls and young women of the caravans.
Once trading was finished, there would be a feast, and as often
as not the end of the evening would find one of them slipping into
the shadows with me.
I remember one such night when a young woman came out with
me. Her husband, a great oaf of a silk merchant, had inhaled
three wineskins and subsided into a snoring, blubbering pile not
long after the sun went down.
She told me, and it might well have been a lie, she'd been sold to
him against her will. I said nothing, for such was and unfortunately
still is the custom in too many parts of our land.
She asked if I knew what could be done with silk, and I
laughed and said I might be from the country, but was hardly that
much of a fool. She smiled privately and suggested perhaps
there were uses I was still unaware of, such as for wall-hangings
and, she ran her tongue over her lips, other places in the
bedchamber.
I expressed interest, feeling my cock stir against my loincloth.
She disappeared into her wagon, and came out in a few
moments with a pack.
No one noticed as we left the village square and went to my
cabin, being deep in their own vices. She was, of course, telling
the truthóthere were many, many uses for the silkworm's death I
wasn't aware of. I did know how coarsely woven veil, showing
more than it conceals of brown flesh, with only a candle to
illuminate, can dizzy the mind.
But I knew nothing until that night of the touch of a silk whip, nor
how silken restraints can send a woman's passion into flame.
We were resting, curled around each other's bodies, sticky with
love, when the tiger coughed.
Her body tensed against me.
"Can he get in?" she whispered.
To be truthful, I didn't know. There were iron bars across the
windows, and I knew those to be impregnable. The door was
heavy cross-braced lumber, and barred, but I'd seen a tiger kill a
bullock with one smash of its paws, then effortlessly pick the
beast up in its jaws and leap a nine-foot fence.
But I knew enough to he.
The woman's breath came faster as we heard the tiger pace
around the walls. My cock came hard, and I rolled atop her, her
legs lifting as I rammed into her, thrusting as she pumped her
hips against me, back arched and hands pulling at my buttocks,
the beast outside, and its scream against the night, silencing the
monkeys, burying her cry as our sweating bodies became one
and I poured into her.
We waited until dawn before I took her back to her wagon, and
carried a cudgel with me. We saw the tiger's pugmarks in the
mud, but he was long gone. She stopped me when we came * in
sight of the caravan, and giggled. "We don't need to tell them just
how you fought the tiger," and pointed at my body. I saw the
nailmarks and bites on my chest, and knew there were others
hidden under my loincloth.
She laughed once more, kissed me, and was gone.
I spent the day away from my family in the jungle. I sometimes
think of that woman, and wish her well, hoping Jaen made her
happy and has given her a long life, and her husband many
wineskins for blinders.
So love has been a fine friend, but the soldierly pastime of going
into rut anytime there's a female of any age within a league, no.
I've not only avoided embarrassments, but disease as well. My
father once said, in one of his few references to sex, after
making sure neither my mother or sisters were in earshot, "Some
people will put their cock where I would not place the ferrule of
my staff," and he is certainly correct.
I've also heard it said when a man makes love all the blood
rushes to the lower half of his body, thus explaining why men
cannot fuck and think at the same time, which sounds quite
logical. Jaen knows I'm hardly innocent of that charge. But
enough of that.
If it sounds as if I have been bragging, I do not mean to do so,
for I have many weaknesses, which should be obvious,
considering my present position here on this lonely island as an
exile who can expect only death to improve his lot and give him a
chance to return to the Wheel and expiate his deeds in another
life.
I am but a poor reader, and have little patience with the pleasures
that come from listening to the sagas, scholarly debate, or
seeing dancers portray the deeds of men. Painting, stone-
carving, all these things I can praise, but there is none of the
heart's truth in my words. Music alone of all the arts touches me,
from a boy tootling on a wooden whistle to a single singer
accompanying himself on a stringed instrument to the intricacies
of a court symphony.
Philosophies, religions, ethics, all these things are for wiser
heads than mine.
At one time I would have said my greatest talent, though, was
one Laish Tenedos said was the most important of all. I was
gifted with good luck, something all soldiers must cany with them.
Now?
That proud claim has surely been proven a joke, one that would
make the monkey god Vachan, god of fools, god of wisdom,
shrill laughter and do backflips in wicked glee.
One further thing I learned from my father was alwaysó
alwaysóto obey the family credo: We Hold True. When I swore
an oath of fealty to Laish Tenedos within my heart, long before I
placed the crown on his head, it was to the death. It is ironic that
my vows to him were never equally honored. But that is as may
be, and Tenedos is answering for that sin.
I knew, when I approached seventeen, I would enter the army. I
assumed I would travel to the nearest recruiter, and take the coin
as a common soldier. If I worked hard and mightily, I might be
fortunate enough to find a commission and perhaps end my days
at the same rank my father reached. This was the highest I
dreamed, at least that I'd admit to. Of course there was always
the grandness of somehow leading a forlorn hope, coming to the
notice of a general and being promoted on the battlefield. But
truthfully I knew my most likely fate would be to end my days as a
hard-bitten sergeant, such as I met from time to time in the
villages. Still more likely was that I'd be taken by Isa on the
battlefield in blood, or in barracks from one of the diseases all
armies carry along with sutlers and whores.
In theory, I should have been able to apply for one or another of
the lycees that produce officers, since our family is more than
noble enough to qualify. But the old proverb applies, and my
family, and in fact the entire district of Cimabue, was far out of
sight and mind of the powerful ones who ruled the army from
Nicias.
I didn't care. I suppose this must be counted another of my
failings, that I've never been one to think highly of someone *
merely because the Wheel's turnings makes him the son, or her
the daughter, of a grand family. In fact, in spite of my former
titles, and my marriage, being around such people makes me a
bit nervous, although I've learned to disguise it.
I'm far more comfortable in a barracks, tenting, on the hunting
field, or in a common tavern and with the people of those places
than in a palace with the grand.
So the thought of being one more spearman or archer didn't
disturb or shame me, although I thought I could prove myself a
good enough horseman to be allowed into the cavalry. But once
again luck intervened.
My father may not have had a priest, but someone did owe him a
favor, a retired domina named Roshanara, who'd been my
father's regimental commander at Tiepolo. I do not know what
deeds my father did that dayóhe would never tell tales of his
exploitsóbut evidently they were memorable.
One day, not many months before I was to take the colors, a
messenger arrived at the estate. He carried an elaborate scroll
that, once its wax seals had been broken and we scanned it,
offered me an appointment at the Lycee of the Horse Soldier,
just outside Nicias.
This is considered the most elite of the various service schools,
attended only by the sons of the noble rich and descendants of
particularly well-connected and high-ranking officers.
None of us had any idea how this could've come to pass. My
father said at one time there were five cadet postings made
available by lot to all applicants, but since I'd sent no letters to the
lycee that was an impossibility.
The explanation, of course, was Domina Roshanara, and his
letter came in the next post. He said he'd not only named me for
consideration to the lycee since he had no children of his own
nor friends' children he took seriously enough to propose, but
he'd also set aside a sum sufficient to see me until graduation. I
could see my father's mustaches begin to bristle, but he read on,
through Domina Roshanara's rather weak explanation that he'd
heard the harvests had been exceedingly
bad in Cimabue, and this was to be looked at not as charity, but
as one way to make the army they both so loved stronger.
My father looked very unconvinced, and was, I thought, about to
explode and growl something about that would be the last
damned time he saved any damned superior's sweetbreads,
when my mother took him into another room. I know not what she
said, but when they came back my attendance at the Lycee of
the Horse Soldier was settled.
The school would commence after the Time of Dews, when
soldiers would return from the field, campaigning during the
ensuing Time of Births and Time of Heat not being common
practice. That was not long distant, and I would need
considerable time for travel, since Nicias is far from Cimabue. I
spent the short time left with my father, learning all the details of
lycees he could remember. Even though he'd not been able to
attend such a lycee, but had gone through a training college in
our own state, he'd heard many many tales from officers who
had, and, he added wryly, still seemed to think their happiest
days had been spent there.
Then the time came due and I rode off on the mare I'd chosen,
Lucan. She wasn't my favorite, but was quite young, just five, and
I hoped to be able to keep her for a great part of my career. I
took another mare, Rabbit, named for her over-long ears and
thankfully not her behavior when I was astride, and two mules with
my gear.
I rode to the curve in the road, and turned to wave my farewell
and take one last look at my home. It was hot, but the blur in my
eyes was not from the sun. My father... mother... sisters ... all the
family's servants, and my friends from the village, all were there. I
fixed them in my memory, as if I were an artist taking a final look
at his models before he hurries to his easel, as if I'd never see
any of them again.
And in truth, that is almost how it has been.
I have only returned to Cimabue twice, for the funeral rites for my
parents. Sometimes I was half a continent away, other times
impossibly busy, and later it became unwise to do so for my
sisters' safety. That is not the complete truthóthere were more
than enough long leaves when I could have gone home instead
of elsewhere.
But I did not and do not know why.
Perhaps it would be like returning to a dream only to see what a
threadbare fancy it actually was.
FIVE
The Lycee of the Horse Soldier My two years at the lycee
began in a roar, as hardened ex-cavalrymen, all former lance
majors, troop guides, or regimental guides, chosen for iron
bowels and lungs and eyes that could see a speck of dust on a
uniform or a dot of manure on a horse's hoof from across a
parade ground chorused loudly, obscenely, and thoroughly
about my shortcomings.
Eventually we were shattered enough to be given grudging
acceptance, and the army began to rebuild us in the desired
image.
I worked hard in the classroom, but never ranked higher than the
middle of my class. Some of the required courses made my
eyes cross, such as Military Etiquette and Parade Ceremonials.
These would be crucial to a successful career dancing
attendance as an aide to a general, but that was hardly how I
wished to spend my life. I did acceptably well at mathematics, as
long as the instructor could show me its use in the field. I can still
figure, within an inch, the height of a moun-taintop I must assault
given its distance and the angle to the top, but as for reveling in
the joys of pure numbers that supposedly express our
relationship with the universe, well, I think that's no better than
what the priests prattle, and I leave such importances for
temples.
One course I remember well now was Battlefield Sorcery. It was
taught not by a magician, which I found odd, but by a staff officer,
which suggested we should not nap through his lecturing, nor
harass him with uncomfortable questions unless we wished our
first posting to be the Isle of the Forgotten, which all knew to be
somewhere between Lost and Nowhere. He explained on the
first day that he had a touch of the Talent, and had been selected
for that reason. He further explained that the army deemed it
important that a "realisf' teach the course, rather than some fuzzy-
brained scholar who'd fill us up with useless theory and pointless
wand-waving.
In his lectures, we learned the army's concept of thau-maturgy's
place. It was important, but hardly vital as long as it is present on
both sides, the officer, a captain of the Upper Half, explained. An
army would march into battle, and the sorcerers accompanying it
would cast spells of confusion and fear, attempt to influence the
weather, cause landslides, make rivers rise or ebb depending on
the needs of the commander. But since the enemy would be
making their own magic, it would be almost certain the
enchantments would cancel each other out. Of course, if one
side fought "naked," that is, without magic, it would be quickly
destroyed.
One of the more scholarly of my fellows wondered why a battle
could not be fought solely with magic, or a real army opposed
and vanquished completely by sorcery, given a powerful enough
magician.
"In theory," the captain said, and his lip curled to show what he
really thought of the idea, "in theory this could be done. Just as,
with a lever long and strong enough and a fulcrum solid enough,
you could lift the city of Nicias to the other side of the Latane
River." There was a bit of laughter.
"But we are soldiers here, learning to deal with the facts of the
rude day. Perhaps, if your interests lie in such ethereal matters,
you might consider applying to a wizards' academy, and leaving
your place here for a more pragmatic young man." Some of the
less brainy sorts laughed harder at this, since at the time military
sorcerers were known as mystical dolts who
would die trying to figure why the demon they'd evoked was
green instead of the desired blue, and never notice their legs
were being devoured.
The young man flushed and sat down.
"I mean no insult," the officer said, for he was not an unkindly
man. "We all know of great battles fought magician to magician,
especially before war is declared or in the early stages of a
struggle. And magic is of inestimable value when unopposed,
and again I must emphasize that word, for example when the
commander wishes to see if the enemy has concealed reserves.
Possibly, if a magician has power enough, and his opponent is
weak enough, he might be able to affect the opposing general's
willpower to continue a hard-fought battle.
"And finally, magic comes into its own when an army is broken,
its willpower gone, just as cavalry should always be used to finish
a fleeing enemy.
"But all these purposes, important though they are, are
secondary to our real purpose, what we soldiers have dedicated
our lives to: battle. When steel becomes the argument, and the
battlefield has been chosen, then sorcery must step aside.
Magic, just like the quartermaster, the paymaster, or the farrier,
exists only to ease the path of the warrior on the battlefield. In no
way can it replace him."
I thought of asking a question at this pointóI didn't think the
questioner had meant that, any more than someone asking if
archers should be brought closer to the actual battle zone or kept
back to fire volleys at the reserves meant the swordsman should
stay home, or someone questioning whether the halberd wasn't
vastly inferior to the lance meant it should be scrapped.
But I said nothing.
I also thought something else: The witch in our village could heal
colds, ease the shaking bones of the old, make childbirth
easieróin short, perform many important tasks. She could not,
however, make bones knit overnight or keep a failing heart
beating for a while. For that we had to send for a more skilled
practitioner. But that didn't mean she denied it was possible to
heal a broken leg.
Her attempts to predict and control the weather were complete
failures, and so were those of all the district sages I'd seen
attempt the labor. But did that mean no one had done such a
marvel? Of course not; it merely required a master wizard.
So battle magic was difficult. Perhaps a sorcerer powerful
enough had not attempted it as yet, or perhaps no one had
devised spells potent enough to rule the battlefield. But that
didn't mean it was impossible. All the captain was really saying is
that no one to our knowledge had mastered such feats, and not
even I, coming from a backwater area like Cimabue, imagined
Numantia to be the entire world.
I thought that the army, in this, as in many other ways, was all too
ready to say This Is the Way It Is and Must Be, and close its
mind. But that was a passing notion, and I, too, accepted Things
as They Were. Until Seer Tenedos.
Where I did well was out of doors, whether on the parade
grounds, where I was very familiar with the evolutions, courtesy
of my father; in any sport, particularly if it involved riding; or in our
war games.
Perhaps I would have ranked higher, but as I've said my temper
boiled when any other "young gentleman" insulted me, my
accent, my district, or, worst of all, my family, and so there were a
number of disciplinary infractions on my record. I cared little,
because it's far more important for a man to stand up for what he
believes than to bow down meekly. A crawler cannot be a warrior.
This showed another peculiarity of the army: If I was insulted, and
touched the hilt of the dress dagger we all wore, the challenge
would have been made and my foe and I would have met at
dawn with bare blades. A wounding or a death would be
shrugged aside as part of the price of becoming an officer. But
to seize one of these swaggerers by the waist, as I once did,
upend him, and toss him into a slops barrelówhy, this was most
unseemly, and required three days in the stables for me to
expiate my sin.
I made few friends, as I'd expected. Most tales of young
men away from home for the first time tell how they erred and
overstepped their bounds, became cocky, or lost all discipline.
None of that happened to me, so my time at the lycee is quite a
dull tale. Since I was very poor, Domina Roshanara's allowance
just covering my expenses with three or four coppers left at the
end of each month, the rich cadets did not take me to their
bosoms. Since I wasn't a libertine, again more due to lack of
funds than desire, the rakehellies thought me dull. Those few
who were studious and aspired to be wise needed nothing from
someone as thickheaded as I.
Perhaps I sensed the army's cruelty with relationships even then.
Soldiers swear the friends they make as recruits last forever, but
this is seldom the case, particularly with officers. In the beginning
there are the normal differences of class, wealth, and
performance that divide young men from their fellows. But it
becomes worse once the sash of office is given. Friends fall
away like rain. Some die of disease, some in battle, but even
more must be turned awayóa man who is promoted to captain
can no longer roister with his now-lower-ranking legates.
Dominas don't relax with captains, nor generals with dominas. My
father had warned me of this, too, saying in spite of all the
bravado and cheers, a soldier's life is a lonely one. I think he
prepared me well for such a truth, for such a fate.
The few men I felt close to were of the lower ranks, although I
was careful to remember my father's advice that an officer must
never become so friendly with a ranker that he cannot send him
off to die. But I did enjoy listening to the tales of the old warrants,
of campaigns long forgotten except by soldiers, or being with the
stablemen and learning still more about horses and their
peculiarities.
I confess my happiest times were alone, when I had no duties,
and I'd saddle Lucan, put some bread, cheese, and fruit in a
pouch, and ride off into the country with no particular destination
in mind. Sometimes I'd take a bow and some blunts, and try for
squirrels or birds, or a hook and line for fish. Sometimes, on
those back lanes far from the lycee, I'd encounter * farmers or
fellow hunters-poachers, I suppose they were, which mattered
not at all to me, since all men must eat.
More than once, especially during harvest season, I would
encounter young women. I guess there was a certain amount of
glamour to being a budding cavalry officer, and since I spoke as
these young farm women did, I was a friendly presence. Such an
encounter might well end on a bed of moss in a secluded glen,
lying naked with a maid, and once or twice with a pair of them
giggling and taking turnabout. It is only city people who think the
countryside is innocent. To this day the smell of new-mown hay
or freshly picked berries can bring a smile to my lips and a bit of
remembered heat to my loins.
I wonder if my life would have been happier if I'd been born one
of these country people, and known no further horizons than they
did? Perhaps Irisu intended me as such, and Saionji, in the guise
of my father, intervened. I know not.
As the final term came to an end, I began looking for my
regiment. Graduates were permitted to apply to any unit they
chose, and, if the army grudgingly found a vacancy, it might
actually assign you to that formation. As a graduate of an elite
school, at least I would be with the cavalry, and not the infantry or,
worse yet, the pioneers or some service formation.
I assumed my fellow students, with their "priests" and wealth and
families and ties, would get the marrow of the choices, and leave
me with the driest of bones.
I'd looked with longing at the cavalry regiments "out there," as the
Nicians put it, scattered in cantonments on the Frontiers or within
the wary garrisons on the border between Dara and Kallio, in a
state of truce that wasn't war, yet never became peace.
Most of all, I wished to serve in one of the three regiments in
Urey that kept Data's vassal state from being ravaged by the Men
of the Hills, those fearless killers from the Border States who
come down from their hard mountains to loot, rape, and kill.
They also were the front line against Kallio, who also claimed
Urey, and, on the other side of the Border States our
most dangerous potential foe, the Kingdom of Maisir. These
three regiments were the Tenth Hussars, the Twentieth Heavy
Cavalry, and the most romantic, the Seventeenth Ureyan
Lancers, which guarded the most important passageway into the
Border States, Sulem Pass.
As far as I could tell, I stood as much chance of being assigned
to any of these three units as I did of being chosen Queen of the
Festival of Births to dance around the lingam pole with an orchid
between my breasts.
Once more luck intervened, both close and far. I knew one, but
not the other. The distant and unknown was that the Frontiers
were waking, and on the sheer cliffs and in the sere villages of
the Border States, the harsh desert highlands the Men of the Hills
called Kait in their own tongue, the tribesmen were stirring,
looking lustfully south at the green lands, fat sheep, fatter purses,
and smooth-skinned maidens of Urey.
There were others looking at the same lands, but we didn't learn
about them for a while, and their lusts went far beyond the
immediate joys of rape and raid.
The closer piece of luck became evident, when I heard what
posts my fellow graduates were seeking. Either they wished staff
postings, preferably serving under the command of one or
another of the high-rankers who'd sponsored their career or with
one of the "parade-crash" regiments close around Nicias. These
units were also considered ehte, but hardly by me, since we'd
been encouraged to visit these great regiments, to be quietly
wooed by them. I'd seen how much time was spent polishing
everything from armor to the horses' hooves, and how little they
practiced real fighting maneuvers instead of the glamorous but
meaningless reviews, charges-in-line, and intricate wheelings. I
had not joined the army to worry about whether the horsehair
plume on my helmet dangled precisely to the second knot from
the bottom of my spine.
I'd sent applications by military post to all three of the regiments
in Urey, and then could do nothing but wait.
They say graduation from the lycee is the grandest moment of a
young officer's life. Perhaps it is for some, but not for me.
* Far greater was the night with the woman and the tiger in my tiny
hut, or the day I received welcomes from two of the three
regiments I'd applied to. One of them was the Lancers, and I did
not think my heart could be fuller.
The days blurred by until graduation, when I galloped Lucan out
of ranks, to the platform the school domina stood at, dismounted,
marched up the steps, and the sash of rank was wound about my
waist I went to several of the graduating parties, and swore, with
the others, eternal friendship and fealty, but my mind was far
south, wishing for those stark, barren hills of the Border States.
S I X The Wolf of Ghazi It seemed as if every citizen of Nicias
was abroad as I rode through the city toward the docks. I kept
glancing at the sun, afraid I'd miss my sailing time, but unable to
move faster than a walk, for fear Lucan or Rabbit would crush
someone.
There were sweating priests staggering along, trying to look
dignified, carrying statues of their god or goddess bigger man
they were, followed by chanting acolytes; merchants intent on the
day's business and paying little heed to the bustle around them;
whining beggars; rich wives out to shop in sedan chairs or
carriages; a few early drunkards; porters transporting everything
from loaves of bread to ceremonial robes to one manóand
everyone gave him a wide berthówith an open basket full of
snakes.
In the middle of a street a naked religious man sat meditating.
The crowd ebbed around him as if he were a rock in a river.
Sooner or later either he'd decide to move, a rich man would toss
a gold coin into his bowl and he'd mysteriously awake, or he'd be
crushed by a freight wagon or elephant. No doubt it didn't matter
to him which happened.
There was a slight shimmer about him, and as I rode past, his
power was such that I was drawn into bis vision.
Jfi The two of us were alone in a cool vale, near a laughing brook.
A soft breeze caressed us, and the sun was kindly. Birds sang,
and a roebuck grazed nearby. The holy man smiled his welcome
and peace washed over me.
I was back in Nicias. I wiped sweat, dropped two coppers in the
man's bowl, and went on.
Evidently the Seventeenth Lancers were in a hurry for my
presence, for they'd authorized me to take passage on a fast
packet, the Tauler, whose broadside promised to deliver me to
Renan in less than two weeks.
The Tauler was still moored at its dock and I took a moment to
marvel at the craft. It was less than a year old, and a fine example
of what the mechanics of Dara could produce, nearly feet long
and wide. There were three decks with cabins raised above the
main deck, which had storage space for cargo and, amidships,
pens for animals. The ship was navigated from a small cupola in
the bows. Its upperworks were built of teak that had been crafted
into a thousand thousand fantastic images of gods, men, and
demons, then painted in as many hues.
But what made it so astonishing was its method of propulsion. At
the stern were, side by side, two broad treadmills, such as the
ones used in the countryside to power a miller's wheel, but far
wider and heavier, as if elephants would provide the energy
instead of oxen. But they stood empty. Here was where mighty
sorcery would work. A group of Nicias's master magicians had
spent years developing a spell that enabled the treadmills, which
I had been told were made of elephant hide, not only to hold the
great strength of the beast, which would be loosed to power the
ship, but also to maintain this power for a week or more before
the belts needed replacement. I marveled, and again was
reminded how foolish it was that the army thought magic no more
than a minor tool.
The rest of the machine was more prosaic, but to me just as
wonderful. The treadmills turned wheels, and belts ran from
those wheels to a larger one, jutting off the boat's stern, just at
the waterline and equipped with paddles. That drove the boat fi
forward, and it was steered with long sweeps that extended from
the deck back of the paddle wheel into the water. Commands
would be shouted back to the steersmen from the ship's
commander in the bows, or, in the event of rain or wind, relayed
by signals on pull-cords.
At dockside was the ship's purser, and I arranged for my horses
to be loaded, passing a silver coin I could not afford to make
sure Lucan, Rabbit, and the two pack horses were properly
attended to. I was given a brass token with my cabin number,
gave a copper to the lycee attendant who'd accompanied me to
the dock, and went aboard.
The cabin was neat but small, and on the lowest deck. Even so, it
cost dearly, far more than I would be paid in a Time. Since my
possessions fit in one saddle-roll and four leather bags, I had
more than enough room.
I went back on deck, and waited for departure. Next to the docks
was one of the landings used for bathing. Long steps led into the
brown river, and people swarmed down them. Some were most
modestóI saw an entire family clad from head to foot in white
robes trying to cleanse itself and yet remain modest Others wore
a cloth around their loins, but most were as they came into the
world.
In the throng were rich and poor, merchant and thief, and I was
reminded that no man can show wealth when he's naked, and,
also, unfortunately, that most of us, unclothed, prove the first
man or woman who sewed leaves to form a belt had a
smattering of good sense.
There were exceptions, I noted a young girl, nude except for a
thin silver chain about her waist and a bright smile she turned on
me. I winked, she beckoned, I sighed and indicated I was
trapped just as horns blasted, the gangways were pulled aboard,
and we churned away.
The Tauler was worthy of her boasts, and we raced south as if
demons were after us. The first few days took the longest,
requiring careful navigation as we passed through the huge delta
that fed the sea through hundreds of mouths. There were islands
no bigger than the single bush that grew on them, and * ones I
thought as big as Cimabue. The islands were heavily settled, and
I wondered, with a shudder, what all these people could do,
where they could flee, in the event of a flood. I suspected I knew
the answer, and thought on more cheerful subjects.
Once out of the delta, we could move faster. The Latane River
was huge, stretching from horizon to brown horizon as it rolled
down to the sea. There were many other boats about, from small
skiffs to fishing craft to ramshackle barges that were home to
huge families. There were trading ships and other transports like
our own that the ship's homs hooted at familiarly.
The only time I was in my cabin was to sleepóotherwise I was
on deck, marveling at this great and lovely country of Numantia I
had sworn to serve.
My fellow passengers were mostly of the monied class, and so I
kept to myself. A few times men offered to buy me a drink, and I
accepted gladly, since I'd made a private arrangement with the
barmen that no matter what I ordered I'd be served a glass of
recently boiled water, with that wonderful rarity ice, and a twist of
lime, which looked for all the world like some lethal concoction of
distilled prune pits or some such.
I made no attempt to make friends, since I was more interested
in what I was seeing than in conversation, and I generally dined
alone and early. I also had a great deal of reading to do, having
purchased books before I left on the history of Urey, the Border
States, and even one thin volume on the Seventeenth Lancers
themselves. It was a task I did not like, but I knew it was less
onerous than appearing a complete fool when I arrived in Mehul.
I remember walking along the promenade deck and seeing a
magician entertain a family. The sage was one of the entertainers
the ship's owners provided, which included minstrels, players,
and mimics. The family was young, and wore their best clothes at
all times, clothes mat were just a trifle out of the current style. I
guessed they'd either saved their money for a holiday, or else
this passage had been a present from a richer
relative. There were four of them: two boys peihaps three and
four, their father, who was about my age, and their visibly
pregnant mother.
The magician was quite giftedóa fat, jolly man who prattled on
while his hands worked wonders. He took a small toy, a tiger,
from one of the children, and turned it sequentially into a cat that
meowed, a dog that barked, a zebra that whinnied, and then into
a full-size tiger, its mouth wide for a roar. Before either of the
children had time to be frightened, the roar became a kitten's
meow, the boys laughed, and the magician handed the toy back.
The father turned, saw me, and ducked his head in
acknowledgment of my superior class.
Embarrassed, I returned the salute and moved on. As I walked
back toward the stern I mused about the sense of remove I'd felt
watching these people who were living a life I'd never know, one
as strange as if they were from one of the other worlds the
Wheel surely must touch.
As we went south, the land grew sparser and drier, the cities
fewer, and the farms farther apart and scraggly. The people on
the banks or in boats were poorer; their clothes were no longer
the rainbow hues of the north.
We stopped for supplies at a port that was little more than a long
dock and a scatter of buildings. I went ashore for a walk. At the
end of the pier squatted a man, the poorest of the poor by his
rags. Beside him sat a girl, perhaps nine or ten. Both of their
faces held the patient wisdom that poverty gives: There is
nothing more the gods can do to me, and the only blessing l shall
find is when the Wheel turns. I dug for a coin in my sabertache,
although the man had not yet made a beggar's plea.
"Kind sir," he said, as his eyes focused, recognizing that another
stood before him. "Would you buy my daughter?"
I don't know why I was surprised, since I'd seen men and women
surreptitiously offering their children in Nicias's tawdry
backstreets. But I was.
"No," I said. "I'm but a soldier. I'd have no place for her."
"She would be no trouble," he said, as if I had not spoken.
* "She is a good girl. She's never sick. She has most of her
teeth. She doesn't eat much, either. She knows how to sew, and
I'm sure you could find someone to show her how to cook.
"She even can be..." and the man let the pause hang, "... good to
you. Better as she gets older."
He elbowed the girl, and she attempted to put on a smile, such
as she'd seen one or another of the whores of this byway paint
on. But I saw the fear behind it clearly.
Perhaps I should have struck the man, or something. I did not,
but dropped a silver coin in the dust near him and hurried back to
the Tauler, reminded that Numantia may be a great country, but it
was, and is, carrying a horrid burden of despair and poverty.
I wished men, and wish now, that all of us were rich, or at least
lacked for nothing. But I suppose such contentment would bore
the gods and make them rouse Umar and start over, to make a
more fascinating world for their amusement. As the second week
drew to a close, I was weary of traveling, and my bones needed
hard exercise. I thought of running up and down the decks, or
climbing the teakwork, but thought I probably already behaved
enough like Vachan not to need to act more like a caged
monkey.
The Latane was now clear, blue, and the land around it green and
rich again. We had entered that most blessed of lands, the state
of Urey. The river divided again and again, but each branch
remained navigable. From atop the third deck I could see, dim in
the distance, the mountains that marked the end of the small
state, and the beginnings of the Border States. Here is where I
would be blooded, and make my name.
We docked, and I saddled my horses and set out through the
city on the road that would take me to the Seventeenth Lancers'
home in the garrison city of Mehul.
I'd expected to find a beautiful city, but instead I found a magical
place. It was very old, and it had been a summering place for the
kings of Numantia once.
Elsewhere in Numantia was heat; here it was cool, a pleasant
breeze blowing down from the mountains and stirring the
trees of the many parks in the city. The trees themselves were of
a type I'd never seen, sixty feet in circumference, with
multicolored leaves big enough to use for umbrellas in the gentle
rains that fell occasionally.
In the center of the city, rather than a palace or a grim fortress,
was a garden, where fountains rose and sang among pillars of
black marble, worked with gold, and the water ran laughing down
cascades into small pools.
Canals stretched through the city, connecting the district's many
lakes. Huge multistoried buildings, old beyond age, stretched up,
their balconies and lattices arabesques of beauty, and flowers
growing on their roofs.
There were sidewalk cafes, and I smelled roast duck, spiced
fish, chile-drenched corn, and other delights.
The people seemed uniformly cheerful and friendly. While of
course there were beggars, they looked as if they'd bathed and
been fed within the week, and even pled their cases as if they
were respectable men and women working a trade, asking no
more than their due.
On the lakes I saw drifting islands of flowers, black-faced swans,
and moored houseboats, each with wonderfully carved
decorations in many kinds of wood stained in rainbow hues.
Behind each of these houseboats, which were almost feet long,
was a smaller, canopied craft fitted with cushions, perfect for a
lazy idyll on a warm day like this. This, I thought a bit wistfully,
would be a perfect place for a lover and a long holiday.
I rode on into the countryside. The land was very green, rolling
farmland, broken by forests and lakes, each inviting the
fisherman, boatman, or swimmer.
It was said that all men have two homesótheir own and
Ureyóand I knew it was true. What that province is now is yet
another example of the doom the Emperor Tenedosóand, I
must admit, myselfóbrought to our country. Mourn, Numan-tians,
the glory that was Urey and is no more.
But that day I swear even the dust Lucan's heels kicked up
smelled sweeter than any other.
K I understood why Urey, although under the protectorate of
Numantia, was also claimed by the neighboring province of Kallio
and even, along with the Border States farther south, by Maisir,
although at the time no one thought they meant their assertion to
be taken seriously.
I rode on, toward Mehul. If Renan is one point of an equal-sided
triangle and SuJem Pass is another, then the third point, to the
west, is Mehul. It guards not only Sulem Pass, but another
fearsome area, the Urshi Highlands, as well. They're also part of
the Border States, but the legend says the men who live there
are those who are too fierce for their brothers in the rest of Kait,
who keep the same customs and speak much the same
language, to tolerate. Certainly they've caused the army and the
people of Urey as much grief over the years as any raiders who
boil out of Sulem Pass. This I would learn well within a few
weeks.
I camped that night beside a stream, and stretched out my
bedroll under the stars, listening to, far in the distance, the belling
of a maned deer as I drifted away.
The next day, I rode into Mehul. The town is a fairly typical border
settlement, with perhaps three or four thousand people, most of
them working directly or indirectly to support the Lancers.
Their camp is five minutes' walk beyond the town. It's been there
for generations, time enough for the saplings planted in the dim
hope the regiment might be there long enough to cut them for
kindling to grow into great plane trees that give welcome shade
during the Time of Heat The barracks are of stone, with wooden
interiors and tile roofs that shed heat and let the water run off
freely during the Time of Rains.
The grounds are perfectly kept, from green lawns to seasonal
flowers, which might be expected when you realize there are
several hundred men who are only a lance-major's frown away
from being ordered to trim the grass with nail-clippers. There are,
or were anyway, around lances in the regiment, assigned to six
troops and headquarters. The troops were Sambar, which is for
scouting; Lion; Leopard; Cheetah; Tiger;
and Sun Bear, which rides in support of the four combat troops.
Each troop contains four columns of twenty-five, which are
numbered and always referred to by the ordinal or it's time to buy
the mess a round.
I rode in, reported to the regimental adjutant, and was assigned
to Three Column, Cheetah Troop.
The next few days blurred past in a haze of happiness, as I was
given necessary weapons, uniforms, the Spell of Understanding
for the local languages, equipment, and met my fellow officers,
and most important of all, the men of my column. I can still name
them all, even the ones who did not choose to follow me later as
members of my household guard when I rode with the emperor.
They also brought the only fear I had: fear that I'd somehow fail
them and myself, and bring needless deaths. Fortunately, my
father had told me every one of the stages I'd go through in my
first command, and had warned me to leave well enough alone,
admonishing, "Do not start fiddling with your column like a
spinster who constantly arranges her sitting room and is never
satisfied," and instructing me, "At the beginning, be no more than
a presence to your men, and a pupil to your warrants." I tried to
obey him.
I also knew full well that I was the youngest, newest member of
the mess, and so kept well into the shadows, staying silent
unless spoken to, and then making my answers as brief as
possible.
Some of the other junior legates chaffed me, trying to find a
weakness. I responded in kind, but stayed a bit remote,
practicing another of my father's preachings, the one that said the
cheery man who first befriends you in a new post will borrow
money, steal your gear, and finally abandon you in battle.
Friendship isn't a spring flower, he went on, but grows like an
oak. He warned me there were of course exceptions, just as
there are, he added, in love.
Two months passed, and I swear I grew happier with each day.
Then came the pinnacle: I was ordered to take my column out to
a village not far distant that had been hit by raiders from K the
Highlands and, in Domina Herstal's words, "put whatev-er's right
back in its slot, and deal with whatever's wrong as you see fit."
Some might gasp at a man in his fifties being stupid enough to
assign the task of warden, judge, and possible executioner to a
boy just short of his twentieth birthday, but Herstal was a long
spear-cast from being a fool. He'd told off Cheetah Troop's troop
guide, a bearded man named Bikaner who'd been with the
regiment for twenty years, and, I found later, a warrant who'd
broken in more than a dozen fresh legates, to accompany me.
My lance-majors had nearly as much experience, and the column
was liberally salted with long-service lances. There were, in fact,
only two recruits holding the rank of horseman. With twenty-five
men such as these, I would have had to be a complete moron to
fail.
I was also given, since the raiders came from across the border,
a renegade tribesman named Ysaye we used for a scout. I
thought him a complete scoundrel, and Troop Guide Bikaner
cheerfully assured me I was correct, but he was inexorably loyal
to the regiment, if for no other reason than that he'd been named
outlaw in his native Highlands and had also committed murder
here in Urey. We were his last and only safety, the troop guide
said," 'less he c'n rigger somethin' else, an' then he'll turn on us
like he did ever'one else."
We rode to the village, and set up a tribunal in the square. The
situation was simpleóor so it appeared at first.
The raider was an Urshi chieftain and reputed sorcerer who
called himself the Wolf of Ghazi. He'd hit the village near dawn,
killed two herdsmen, gravely wounded another, and stolen seven
bullocks. But this was not the main plaint of the villagers. He had
also broken down the doors of a local merchant, beaten and
robbed him, and stolen his only daughter.
Through the weepings and wailings of his family, I asked for what
purpose. The babble became worseóthe Wolf would either take
her to wife, make her a common whore for his men, or, and this
was the consensus by volume, sacrifice her in some terrible
ceremony, for, as the merchant said, "she was a virgin,
f,
blessed by the gods, the favorite of us all." I asked how this
bandit had known which house to break into, and was informed
no doubt he'd seen this beautiful flower of Urey, this peerless
wonder of young womanhood, this pearl of beauty, when he'd
traded in the village.
I was about to ask why the villagers were so foolish as to let a
bandit window-shop for what he needs, especially when trade
with the Border States was illegal save on certain days clearly
specified by the government. But Troop Guide Bikan-er shook
his head slightly, and I said nothing. Later he told me all of the
border towns trade regularly with their enemies, and not
infrequently intermarry, which, he said, "makes enforcin' th' law
interestin' at times, not knowin' whether you're step-pin' into th'
middle of a feud or not."
We must ride out immediately to save this merchant's daughter,
whose name was Tigrinya, before she was sacrificed to some
dark demon, and bring the Wolf to bay, not forgetting, the village
chief reminded us, payment not only for the bullocks, which we
should also return if possible, but for the deaths and sore injury
of his man.
So I rode across a border on my first military campaignó twenty-
seven men after a ragamuffin bandit and the peasant girl he'd
kidnapped.
Ysaye knew where the Wolf's lair would be: no more than three
leagues from the border, just north of the village he came from
and claimed lordship over.
We followed a track into the hills, and twice saw cattle droppings
not two days oldówe were on the right path. I felt very confident,
very sure mat we would destroy this man and I'd win great honor.
The lance riding point shouted a warning, and I saw three men
ahead, just where the truck entered a narrow defile. They
screamed defiance, and lobbed arrows at us that fell well short.
Now we had them! I was about to call for the charge, and Troop
Guide Bikaner said, "Sir!" There was something imperative in his
tone, and so I held back, although anger touched meóbattle is
no time for a conference.
"Beggin' th' legate's pardon, but it's not strange for th' tribesmen
t' suck so'jers in, sendin' a few out t'challenge, with th' main
body lyin' in ambush."
As he spoke, my confidence, my bravado, vanished, and I
cursed, knowing Bikaner was right, and that in addition the Wolf
had sent a spell out, seeking a fool who'd allow it a home in his
mind and make him bloodthirsty and foolhardy.
"Column ... halt!" I snapped. "Dismount! Troop Guide Bikaner, I
want four men on foot to go forward as flankers atop those rocks.
Five archers halfway to that pass to support them. Make sure
they aren't waiting for us on the other side."
As my scouts went out, moving like cautious lizards from shelter
to shelter, I heard the clatter of horses' hooves from beyond.
"We've sprung it," Bikaner announced. "There'll be no one waitin'
now."
But I'd learned my lesson. There could be a double bluff being
played, and so had the men proceed. There was a small pocket
beyond the narrow canyon, perfect to tether horses in while their
riders waited for twenty-five or so idiots to stumble into the trap, a
pocket with fresh, steaming horseapples on the ground. But the
Wolf's riders had broken off.
"That's th' way a th' Men a th' Hills," Lance-Major Wace said.
"They'll on'y fight y' t'yer back, ne'er t'yer face."
I guessed he thought there was something dishonorable about a
handful of poorly trained men not willing to stand up to twenty-
seven regulars. I thought anyone who'd fight as he wanted was
not only foolish, but destined for a short life as well.
We went on, farther into the mountains, but encountered no other
trap.
We rounded a bend, where the track ran halfway up a low hill,
with tall, barren mountains on either side, and saw the stronghold
of the Wolf of Ghazi.
It was a round tower, perhaps fifty feet high and a bit more in
diameter, that'd been laboriously built with flat stones piled atop
each other, and crudely mortared with clay from the near-
by stream. There were firing slits in the walls, and I counted three
floors, and a deck with raised stonework for archers to fight from.
The upper floor's slits were wider, almost windows.
It wasn't much of a castleóbut then, it didn't need to be to stop
us.
There were men atop the tower, and suddenly arrows rained out.
They fell well short, but I prudently ordered my men to withdraw,
leave their horses with handlers, and come forward prepared for
battle.
Before they could, a tall, bearded man stood up on top of the
tower. He wore boots, bright red robes, had a belt around his
waist with several weapons stuck in it and a blue clolh wrapped
neatly around his head. This could only be the Wolf of Ghazi.
"You are dead men!" he screeched, and his voice was sor-
cerously magnified. "Flee, or face my wrath!"
I called for my two best archers, and rode forward. Perhaps I
should've dismounted, since a horse under fire can be skittish,
but I needed all of the presence I could manage. I stopped at
what I estimated was extreme arrow range.
"I am Legate Damastes & Cimabue, of the Seventeenth Lancers,
and I speak for the villagers of Urey!" I called in return. "You have
broken the laws of our land, and you must pay!"
The Wolf roared laughter. "I am the only law I obey! You are a
fool!" "Return the woman! And pay for your misdeeds," I called
back. "You must also bring gold for the families of the men you
slew, and the one you maimed." "Leave my land, or you die!"
Clearly, we were not communicating any too well. "You have four
hours to consider," I came back, I'm afraid rather weakly. All that
came back was another laugh. We started away, and very
suddenly one of my archers, a very alert man named Curd,
cursed and his bowstring twanged. There came a shriek from the
tower, and a tribesman flopped for-
* ward, from one of the windows, his bow dropping from dead
fingers before he'd had time to loose a shaft at me.
I was grateful I hadn't been stupid enough to use a white flag of
truce when I rode upóit might have given the man a better
aiming point. But now I had my second lesson in the way war was
waged in the Border States.
I went back to the men, and we held a council of war. Our options
appeared fairly limited, and none were enchanting. We had the
Wolf besieged, but how long could twenty-seven men seal off
his stronghold? I assumed no more than a day or so before
either his bandits would slip off through secret ways we knew
nothing about or, just as likely, we ourselves would be attacked
by other Men of the Hills. I doubted if the Wolf had many allies,
but figured most of the Highlanders would forget a feud for a
chance at the head of a Numantian soldier.
We could attack the tower frontalry, and be shot down as we
charged Or we could give up and retreat.
I would accept none of the three, and set my troops to building a
breastworkócarrying rocks to build a low stone wall around a tiny
hillock near the redoubt, enough to slow down a charge if we
were attacked. There were mutters at my orderó since no
cavalryman prizes physical laborówhich were quickly subdued
by the warrants. While they set to work, I went out a few yards
and sat studying the tower.
There were two doors, both of wood and certainly heavily barred
and blocked from the inside. Would it be possible, come
nightfall, to set fire to them? This was doubtful: What could I use
for firewood? If I had a seer with me, I could've had a spell cast
that would have made them roar up in fire, but even so, what
would that have given me? There would still be a dozen yards of
open land to charge across. I stared on. A slight idea came, and
I called for Ysaye.
I pointed to the windows on the third floor, and asked if he
thought a man could fit through them. He looked closely, and said
yesóif he was thin. Very thin. Troop Guide Bikaner would never
make it I looked at the stonework of the tower.
"Can that be climbed?'
Ysaye didn't need to look.
"I could climb it. To me, to any Man of die Hills, it would be like a
highway. But you... the soldiers? I do not think."
I did think, having a bit more respect for my men than he did. But
what was the possibility of getting enough men to take the tower
up the wall in silence? I started to discard that as another stupid
idea, then another possibility came.
"Ysaye, would the Wolf fear magic?"
"Of course. Doesn't the swordsman always worry that one day he
will face someone better with the blade than he? But we have
none. Unless the legate has talents so far unblossomed."
"I surely do," I said firmly. I asked him for the small jar of blue
kohl I knew he would have about him, that all the hillmen used to
make up their eyes, thinking it made them more handsome. He
puzzled, but handed it over.
I sent for Curd, and borrowed one of his arrows. Then, with two
other men, I went back to my vantage point and shouted for the
Wolf. He came after a bit, pulling his clothes on.
"What do you want, fool? I was just about to enjoy the woman."
I paid no attention to what he said, and held up my arrow that I'd
stained blue with Ysaye's kohl. I pointed it at the Wolf, then to the
four corners of the compass.
"Wolf, O Wolf," I cried, trying my best to sound like a magician,
"this is thy doom, this is thy end. Cease thy sins, make thy peace
with Saionji, with Isa, god of war, or hear the Wheel creak. Obey
me, O Wolf, and ye shall live. Send forth the woman, send forth
the gold, and I shall not loose this arrow."
The Wolf ducked reflexively behind one of the outcrop-pings, but
when nothing happened, he peered out "There is no use to hide,
O Wolf. Your doom is sealed," I cried. "Do not make me send
forth my arrow, which needs no bow, needs no string, but can
seek you out and kill you. Wolf, there is no shelter from my
arrow, there are no walls thick enough to keep you safe. O Wolf,
hear me, and obey! Do not make me send forth my arrow!"
He waited for a spell, then started laughing, bellowing, and I
half-hoped he'd strangle himself.
Without making an answer, he vanished. I walked back to the
men. Troop Guide Bikaner made sure none of the men could
hear him, and said, quietly, "Nice thinkin', Legate. But bluff ' not
crack that one. He's too hard f r words. We'll have t'try another
plan."
I shook my head "We may, Troop Guide. But not until tomorrow,
because my scheme's just begun."
I waited until dark, called Ysaye to me, and told him now was the
time for him to prove his boasting. I wanted him to climb that
tower and perform a certain task.
He paled, and his eyes shifted, and he licked suddenly dry lips
before agreeing.
"I will obey, Legate. It shall only take a few moments." "I have full
confidence in you, Ysaye," I said. "I'll go forward with you, and
Lancer Curti as well, who shoots most accurately in the dark. He
will be able to give you supporting fire if you're found out Or..." I
let my voice trail away, not needing to add what he would shoot at
if Ysaye tried to flee, "ff you do not return in one fingerspan of the
moon, we shall assume you became lost, and make a great
outcry to guide you back."
His face fell. I'd closed off his possible escape. I took the arrow
I'd cast my "spell" on, and told him what to do.
We crept forward. The tower was all aught, and I heard the
sounds of laughter and singing. The Wolf's men weren't taking
my presence heavily.
Ysaye looked at me, at Curti's ready bow, cast away his robes,
and said, "I think, Legate, in another life you were one of us," and
vanished into the darkness. I strained my eyes, and thought, after
a bit, I saw something move up the tower wall like a great
cautious spider.
Hah an hour later, Ysaye reappeared. He was breathing hard and
his skin was bruised and scratched.
"I was wrong," he said, slipping into his clothes. "The climb was
almost impossible. I think I am the only man in these hills who
could have done it"
"I'm sure you're right," I said, grateful that the darkness hid my
grin. "I'll ensure Domina Herstal hears of your bravery and
rewards youóif our plan works."
We went back to the others and waited. In two hours, the lights
began going out in the tower. Then I heard a man scream in
sudden terror.
Very good, I thought. Now we wait for the dawn.
At sunrise, the door to the tower came open, and the Wolf
himself came out. Behind him was a not unpretty young woman I
assumed to be Tigrinya, and three men, carrying chests.
I heard the lowing of cattle and saw half a dozen being driven
toward us from the village beyond.
As the Wolf came closer I saw he had not slept wellóthere were
great circles under his eyes, and he was deathly pale. In one
hand, he held the arrow I'd had Ysaye toss through the upper
window of the tower, which must have shocked him when he
came on it. I wondered if Ysaye had been lucky enough to throw
it into the Wolf's bedchamber.
I walked to meet him, but stopped well out of sword range, even
though neither the Wolf nor his men appeared armed. My archers
had arrows nocked.
Without speaking, the Wolf knelt, and held out the arrow.
"O Seer," he whined, "forgive me my sins. I knew not what mighty
wizard I'd offended, and swear on all the gods I shall never
offend thee again.
'Take the womanóI swear I treated her gently.
"And here is my gold." As he spoke, the men opened the chests.
'Take all, take what you deem fitting, but leave me my life."
"I grant you your life, O Wolf," I said, solemnly. "And I am
pleased that you took the warning I was gracious enough to grant
you.
"But I still hold this arrow. If I ever hear of your crossing our
border and harming the innocent, know I shall launch it, and it
shall seek you out and slay you wherever you are."
"I swear, I swear I shall behave as a man of the law." There * was
a pause as he considered, and then cocked an eye up at me.
"At least in Urey."
"What you do in your own lands matters little to me," I answered,
afraid to really press my luck. The Wolf would never become a
sheep.
I ordered the men forward, and they led Tigrinya back to the
horses. She seemed angry about something, and pulled away
from our assistance. Certainly it appeared as if the Wolf was
right: She didn't appear the victim of rape and savagery.
I looked into the chests, and learned the lot of a petty raider
against poor villagers is slim. There were only a dozen gold
coins, three times as much silver, and about the same in copper
coins. The rest of the chest was full of rubbishy brass jewelry,
beads, and gems I thought to be cut glass.
I took the gold and the silver and bade the Wolf sin no more.
Bowing and scraping, the Wolf retreated to his redoubt, and I
never saw him again, nor heard tales of his reiving against Urey.
We rode back for Tigrinya's village, slowed by the cattle. I felt
pleased with myself: Not only had I accomplished my task easily,
but we had done it without any bloodshed in my column. Blood is
the natural end of war, certainly, but the less spilled the greater
the commander. It is ironic that I always tried to follow that
precept, yet served under the bloodiest of history's leaders.
That night, camping just on the other side of the border, intending
to arrive at the village early the next morning, I heard a scuffle
from where we'd made a crude tent for the young woman. After a
time, Troop Guide Bikaner came to me, barely holding back
laughter. I asked him what had happened, and he explained.
It seemed that Tigrinya was most angry. Here she'd had the one
adventure of her life, getting out of what Bikaner said she'd called
"that gods-damned village I was rotting in," into the arms of such
a romantic rebel, and then we had to show up and ruin her
dreams.
"But she's a wily one, Legate, an' went an' offered one of th' men
a chance wi' her charms if he'd let her ride wi' him back t' Renan.
Cursed him, an' then me, most eloquent when we said it could
not happen.
"What'll y' wager, sir, that within th' month we'll see her on Rotten
Row wi' th' other whores?"
Such were the realities of life along the border.
We returned a sullen Tigrinya to her father, gave the coins from
the Wolf to the village chieftain, who seemed very pleased, and I
guessed the widows of the slain men would be lucky to see any
of the money, and rode back to our cantonment. Domina Herstal
nodded approval and allowed I showed signs of learning my job.
The regiment adjutant, Captain Lan-ett, bought me a glass of
wine in the mess that night, a glass I was most pleased to drain
to the dregs.
My life with the Seventeenth Lancers was beginning.
A month later I scored five goals at rol and it appeared ended.
SEVEN Sayana ayana is an old and evil city.
Legend has it the city was built in a single night by a horde of
demons, under the control of a master warlock, who was thus
able to extend his claws over the entire region and untie it in a
commonality of greed and blood lust. This might be true, but as
I'd already learned, demons could have taken lessons from
these Men of the Hills.
As we rode toward it, the Seer Tenedos told me briefly of its past
and at greater length what must concern me to represent the
interests of the kingdom of Numantia properly.
Sayana stands on a low rocky plateau that juts from the plains of
Kait, the Border States. It's a walled city, and eminently
defensible against foreign attack or the far more common
internecine warfare the Men of the Hills call polite society. It
controls all approaches to Sulem Pass from the south, so the
Kaiti have always been able to dictate who passes between
Maisir to the south, and Urey and Numantia to the north.
Kait is a snake's nest of intertwining clans and families, most of
whom seem to have blood feuds with most of the others.
Whoever holds the throne in Sayana is called achim, and
deemed overlord of the Border States, at least until the next
poisoned cup, arrow-dart, or dagger-strike from behind.
The current achim was Baber Fergana, whose history was
positively dynastic by Kaiti standards: His family had held the
throne for three generations. Baber Fergana, as was customary,
had signaled his intent to rule by having all his brothers murdered
and his sisters married to peasants. However, unlike his father
and grandfather, he'd erred slightly, and a younger brother,
Chamisso Fergana, had escaped the slaughter and now held the
loyalty of those tribesmen who were not on Baber Fergana's list
of friends. "Sooner or later," Tenedos said, "either he'll come
down from the hills, take the city, kill his brother, and become the
new achim, or else Baber Fergana will succeed in inserting an
assassin into Chamisso's tents, and there shall be peace
everlasting until one or another of their children become strong
enough to pull sword from sheath ... or else woo enough warriors
and sorcerers to once again topple what these people think
constitutes government."
This was the normal state of affairs for the Border States, and of
little concern for Numantia. However, there'd been a new force
come into the hills of late, one that worried the Rule of Ten.
This was the Tovieti, which Tenedos told me the Rule of Ten had
variously called "a dangerous revolutionary order," a "cult of
fanatics," and "crazed bandits." "By which," he said, a smile
touching his lips for a moment, "I took it to mean our rulers are
terrified of them."
Little was known of the organization, save that it was very loose,
with cells scattered everywhere, and that most of its members
came from the peasantry, the landless, and the lower classes. Its
prime tenet was that those who followed its banner would inherit
all from the ricliónot in some future paradise, but right now, and
might speed that inheritance by killing anyone whose goods they
desired, "except, of course," Tenedos went on, "those who also
espouse their creed." They also required absolute loyalty and
obedience to their leaders and complete secrecy about the
organization.
* I listened, but without a great deal of concern; it'd seemed my
betters were always going on about some nefarious organization
that was about to attack the state or at any rate absolutely corrupt
the morals of the citizenry. As a soldier, I paid polite attention, but
until I was actually faced with these folks as real enemies, and
not chimerical apparitions of a fevered politician, I didn't waste
time peering under my bed for these mischief-makers.
I suppose my unconcern showed itself to Tenedos, who I'd
already seen was an astute reader of men's countenances.
"There's been more than just scare-talk," he said. "The Tovieti
have killed across the borders of the Border States into Urey,
Dara, and even Kallio, or so the Rule of Ten's agents have
reported. Most of the victims have been merchants whose
caravans or houses were stripped bare, with nothing left but the
bodies.
"The Tovieti kill by strangling with a yellow silk cord, when they
can, and the cord is left knotted around the neck of their victims.
"The agents' reports also say the murderers have powerful
magic on their side, since not one of them has been caught
making his kill. Also, when their tracks are followed, they vanish
inexplicably.
"I myself wonder just how ambitious a pursuit some village
warden would mount after finding, say, half a dozen merchants
dead and their gold and trade goods vanished, but I was assured
that the reports of the Rule's agents was most accurate in this
regard."
"How has this group been traced to the Border States?"
"That was a question I had as well, and received no answer other
than that this was to be regarded as 'dependable information.' "
Tenedos shrugged. "I was also told Chamisso Fergana appears
to be either the leader or among the leaders of this organization,
which is adding members by the day. Soon he will lead mem
down from the hills, seize Sayana, and mount a great war into
Numantia. The Rule of Ten believe the Tovieti are responsible
for all the unrest along the borders of late.
"Now you see what a wonderful ferment of evil and dark magic
we are about to enter."
Sayana, not more than a mile ahead, was dazzling white under
the sun, as white as a bride's robes. But between us and the
walls was a truer symbol of Sayana. Iron stanchions, about thirty
feet high, stood on either side of the road. Hanging from them
were wrought-iron cages. Inside each was the rotting remains of
a man. Some were no more than bones, picked almost clean by
the kites and crows. Others were more recently dead, corpses
blackening under the sun, eyes pecked out, grasping hands
reaching for a mercy that was never granted until Saionji allowed
them to return to the Wheel.
I heard a croak, not from any enamel bird, but from one caged
man, or perhaps a woman, who yet lived. I could not distinguish
through the filth and rags. A single eye stared, and a hand
fluttered, asking for the last gift.
I knew I must not grant it, as much as I wanted to take a bow from
one of my men and send a merciful shaft into the heart of that
caged wretch. Such a boon would have been instantly punished,
most likely by my replacing the one I'd granted mercy to.
I turned my eyes away, and we rode on.
Just ahead were the city's gates, and waiting in front was a
formation of some fifty horses, with a single figure at their head.
"I see we're expected," Tenedos said. He eyed me to see if I
was about to issue a string of panicky orders for my men to buff
up their uniforms and blow the dust of the road off their trappings.
I said nothingóI had full faith that my troop guide and lance-
majors had done any necessary smartening-up before we set out
that morning. Besides, I doubted the Men of the Hills held
gleaming brass in as high esteem as razor-edged steel.
This honor guard was hardly the rigid line of soldiery a state
visitor to Nicias would have been met with: The horses blew and
chafed, eager to be on the gallop, and the formation was motley
at best. Their riders were fantastically caprisoned,
wearing many-hued headgear that billowed down like a boat's
collapsed sails, ballooning sleeves on their gaily colored tunics
under leather hauberks and breeches. From each cap draped a
brightly colored feather that floated back almost to their horse's
haunches.
But the sheaths of their swords were plain leather, and well worn,
as were the unadorned hilts of their blades. They carried long
spears, and these were also simple in design, and as I neared I
saw their heads gleamed not from polishing but from frequent
sharpening.
These gentlemen might be a palace guard, but they bore no
relation to the parade-ground bashers like the Golden Helms of
Nicias that clattered attendance around our Rule of Ten. These
were warriors, not popinjays.
For a moment I thought the man at the head of the formation
was their commander, but then I realized differently.
He wore robes of shimmering green that changed hues as the
sun's rays struck them. In one hand, he held a staff, and colors
ran up and down its shaft as if it were hollow glass, and fires
played within. The man was tall, only a bit shorter than I, far
leaner, and his coal-black hair had been waxed and was pulled
back in a queue that ran halfway down his back. His beard was
also waxed, and divided into two spears that reached to
midchest. He could only be a sorcerer.
"I greet you," rumbled his voice, and I knew it to be magically
augmented, "Seer Laish Tenedos and soldiers of Numan-tia. I
am Irshad, chief jask to the Most Noble Leader, Achim Baber
Fergana, and his Most Humble Chief Adviser in Worldly Matters,
as well." He spread his arms in greeting, and from nowhere came
a gentle mist that smelled of rosewater and musk.
I'd expected murmurs of surprise from my menóbut was
surprised and most pleased that there came nothing but silence.
"I thank you for your welcome, Jask Irshad," Tenedos replied.
"Since you have seen our coming, and divined the craft we both
share, perhaps I may return your compliment and
gift. But I fear mine cannot be cast through the air, for fear of
hurt.
"May I ask your brave soldiers to lower their spears until they
point at my heart?"
"I can and shall," the magician said, and motioned. Instantly fifty
lances came level with the ground, and I saw some of the men
grin tightly. "You have great faith in their willpower, since some of
them have declared death-feud with all Numantia."
"I need no faith," Tenedos said carelessly, "for I come as a
guest, and is it not a mark of honor that a man who comes to you
as an invited visitor has naught to fear? Or have I heard wrongly
about the Men of these Hills?"
Without waiting for a reply, he nudged his horse forward, touched
each of the outthrust spears, one at a time. I saw he had
something small in his hand, but he kept it palm down, half-
curled, so I could not make out what he held. His lips moved
slightly as he touched the spears in a spell.
He'd laid his hands on only three or four of the lances when
shouts of surprise came. The spearheads had gleamed of steely
deathónow they shone of golden wealth.
Disciplineówhat there was of itóof the honor guard broke, and
they pressed their mounts forward, to make sure each of them
received the touch of gold.
Irshad's face clouded, then he forced calm. "You give great gifts,
and you are obviously a seer who has few equals in this land," he
said. "My men thank you. I can only hope you have equal
munificence for a man as great as the Star of the Mountains, my
master."
Tenedos waited until the last lancer was gifted and he'd ridden
back to my side before he responded. Gold glittered as his hand
slid inside his robes, then came out empty.
"I have indeed brought great things to Achim Fergana," he said.
"But they are not of gold or silver, for I know a man of his wisdom
and taste puts a bauble at its exact worth, no more, no less.
"A man of such nobility might well consider himself slight-
K ed by gold, even if I were to change the very gates of this city
to that metal, knowing his price to be far beyond any material
thing."
Now Irshad smiled. "Numantia may have chosen well, Seer
Tenedos, in sending a man whose own tongue is more precious
than bullion. No doubt Achim Fergana will be equally impressed,
although he's been known to have men of lesser speech's
tongues removed when disappointed."
"I am sure our time together will be mutually valuable," Tenedos
said, an equally insincere smile on his face.
And so we entered the city of Sayana.
The cobbled streets were narrow, filled with carts and men on
foot or horseback. I saw few women, for these men consider
their women capable of the most astounding immoralities if not
watched closely, and so keep their wives and daughters mewed
up. The few I did see smiled boldly, and one or two allowed their
robes to slip open for a moment, to show a daring bit of ankle or
even calf, and I knew their trade for what it was.
The street opened periodically into a square, and each one was
filled with merchants hawking clothes, melons, fruit, vegetables,
brass jewelry, questionable-looking meat with flies buzzing about
it, and such. But a significant numberóI thought every other
oneóseemed to be selling some sort of charm, spell, or magical
potion.
Tenedos leaned over and said, "I see from the vendors I may
have erred when I said it was a strange thing for the Rule of Ten
to have posted a sorcerer as resident-general. Perhaps I am the
man best suited for the task. Either myself... or a village witch."
A smile quirked his lips, and I returned it. I was beginning to like
this small man, and his occasional self-deprecating humor, rare
in someone with such a rarefied position.
The stone houses on either side of the street showed nothing to
the world but a single, heavily barred door and, on the larger
ones, a larger gate as well, equally well secured. Tene-
dos commented that he could tell the achim's tax-gatherers were
most efficient: Men made no display of their wealth only when the
land was rife with taxmen or thieves. "Most would say," he went
on, "the occupations are one and the same."
Jask Irshad led us to the center of the city, where the streets
were broader and the houses larger, mansions filling nearly a
block. Outside one walled compound he halted, and announced
this was the Residency of Numantia.
"Your servants await you, and the house has been provisioned as
its previous occupant, also a Numantian, wished. If anything is
lacking, your staff will be eager to assist.
"You have the rest of this day and the morrow to rest, and then
my master, the Hand of Peace mat Stretches Everywhere, would
be pleasured by your company."
Bowing servants swung open gatesóspear-tipped at the top, the
spears looking like they'd been recently filed sharpó and
chorused welcome.
Thus began our stay in Sayana.
We had little time for relaxation, however.
The mansion was huge, and there were many tasks that had to
be accomplished instantly.
First, we sacrificed to Irisu and Panoan, god of Nicias, for our
safe arrival. My men made further worship to Isa, and I added
gifts of fresh fruit to Cimabue's monkey god, Vachan, and my
family's hearth god, Tanis. Tenedos also held a private
sacrificeóI was certain it was to Saionji the Destroyer, a god few
wished to acknowledge, let alone bring themselves to her
attention, except, perhaps, in the male aspect of the war god Isa.
After the ceremonies, Tenedos set his retainers to setting up a
dispensary where the wounded from the ford battle could
recuperate, then to preparing his own quarters.
The Kaiti servants, even though they certainly would report
anything and everything to either Achim Fergana or Jask Irshad,
were well skilled, surprising in a land where men so prized their
independence. The household was run by a shifty f, sort named
Eluard, whom I felt most comfortable around, for the rogue would
have so many petty fiddles going he would hardly want to upset
the cart by reporting us to anyone, unless the rewards were
greater than he was already reaping. Laish Tenedos also knew
him for what he was, and put him on our payroll.
Tenedos took various magical tools from his gear and screened
the mansion, searching for various items of sorcerous interest,
as he described them. I wondered what he meant.
"Oh, let us say there could be several things a wise seer might
leave in a house that will be occupied by those his master might
be interested in. In one place I might lay a spell that would carry
any words spoken within its range to another place, perhaps my
master's palace. In another, I might leave a different rune. For
instance, in the bedchamber to be occupied by my honorable
opponent, I might leave a conjuration of susceptibility, so a
properly seductive young woman or man might achieve
influence. A more concrete spell could be cast on a door, so all
who look at it see naught but a bare wall. But if I or my soldiery
needed emergency entry, I would not be left outside the gates
foolishly imploring, or forced to mount siege to settle the matter."
"Your world is a shadowed one," I said, probably foolishly.
Tenedos looked at me in considerable astonishment.
"What one is not?"
I had no answer, and he went on about his business. I asked him
later if he had, in fact, found any spells such as he described.
'To talk is to give away," he said. "I shall not be specific, but I will
tell you the mansion is now safe, but Jask Irshad has a
considerable talent."
I was busy with my own tasks.
The mansion could have served as barracks for the entire Ureyan
Lancers, with every sort of room imaginable, from great dance
floor to audience chamber to stables to troop quarters. The
house filled four sides of a square, with a garden and courtyard in
its center.
I assigned quarters for my men, and Captain Mellet's Khur-ram
Light Infantry. In addition to the Numantian troops, I also had call
on another native levies to keep the Residency secure,
commanded by a mercenary Maisirian named Gyula Wollo. How
he'd found his way to the Border States, and into the service of
Achim Fergana, he did not say. I liked him little, and trusted him
less.
Troop Guide Bikaner took one look at the scruffy, loutish Kaiti
soldiers and suggested I dismiss them out of hand, since the
least they could be was spies, and would certainly betray us at
the earliest possible chance, and quite likely murder us as we
slept.
I thought this not unlikely, but determined to try something first,
although I did order Bikaner to detail a handful of men and make
sure the doors to the Kaiti barracks could be bolted from our
side. The rest of my plan would have to wait until later. I had to
prepare for the meeting with Achim Baber Fergana.
My rooms were palatial, larger than those the domina
commanding the Lycee of the Horse Soldier occupied, being a
sitting room, a bathroom, a study and library, a dining room, and a
bedroom so plushly laid out I might have entertained several
harems without running out of space. It was dizzying for a legate
as young as myself.
To make sure I did not lose track of who I was, nor forget how
momentary these splendors would be, I chose a servant from the
ranks of the Lancers. I picked Lance Karjan, who was as little like
a kowtowing lackey as could be imagined. I asked him if he liked
the idea, and he grumbled, thought of spitting, decided there was
no place convenient, and said it was "a duty." That would be the
best I could expect.
Both of us set to, cleaning uniforms and weapons, just as all my
lances and the infantry were doing. We would decide how we'd
train to maintain our fighting edge later. Now it was time for
square-bashing and gleaming regalia.
Achim Baber Fergana's castle loomed down over the city around
it, rectangular, six stories, with the first story closed off * and
used as a storeroom. Achim Fergana's dungeons ran down into
the living rock below. There were crenellated square towers at
each corner. Entry was made via a ramp to a gatehouse, and
then on a raised causeway into the castle proper. Eminently
defensible, of course, but what a pain to the poor butcher who
must drag carcasses up the ramp before Achim Fergana could
feast.
Four Numantians rode to the audience with the achim: Resident-
General Tenedos, myself, Troop Guide Bikaner, and one other
soldier, Horseman Svalbard. He was chosen not only for the
neatness of his turnout, but also for his stolidity and skills at hand-
to-hand fighting. Captain Mellet and Lance-Major Wace had been
left in command of the troops.
Tenedos wore ceremonial robes, white with the colors of
Numantia worked into a frieze down the left side, and a sash in
matching colors. He carried a short stick, not quite a staff, longer
than a wand, made of ivory with elaborate carvings.
Bikaner and Svalbard wore full-dress uniform, with roached
helmet, breastplate, greaves, and sheathed sword. Svalbard also
carried a rolled leather case that contained the presents
Tenedos had brought from Nicias for the achim.
I wore boots, chain armor under a linen tunic with a chest-blazon
of the Numantian emblem, my sword, and a dagger sheathed
opposite. Rather than a helmet, which I would have preferred, I
wore a ceremonial pillbox hat, also in the blue of Numantia.
We were met inside the castle by two escorts and taken to
Achim Fergana's audience chambers.
It was a very strange room. It began at the third level of the
fortress, and stretched all the way to the roof of the castle. The
ceiling wasn't solid, but elaborate spiderwebs of wrought iron
supported multicolored glass, so the crowd below were
constantly bathed in changing colors as the sun moved.
Cunningly wrought iron filled the huge room, providing benches,
sculptures, dividers, and decoration. But where we Numantians
would leave the metal bare, craftsmen had painted their work to
closely resemble real life. I thought a bush
beside me was a torrent of brilliant color, quite alive, until I
brushed against it and bruised myself.
The floor was one single level, and mosaics were worked into its
stone. At the far end of the room was a low dais, just high enough
to make the step uncomfortable, which was evidently deliberate
on Achim Fergana's part. In the center of the dais was his throne,
a seat large enough to seat three. Its back rose ten feet in the air,
and swept out like a peacock's display. But a peacock would
have been shamed by the colors of mis throne, which was set
with every precious stone imaginable.
The walls of the chamber at ground level were irregular, with
many nooks and crannies perfect to take a fellow into for a quiet
conversation. I found out later that behind each of these
convenient cubbies was a tiny room where one of Irshad's
agents would be stationed, making careful note of any
treasonous words.
The room was about half full of people. They were dressed in
everything from the rags of the hillmen to colorful and ornate
robes. Some men, regular members of the court, I was told,
wore conical caps of leather intended to suggest war helmets.
There was a scattering of women, all finely dressed. A few were
wives or daughters of nobility, but more were unattached women
of the higher stations who, without a father or husband, were
seeking a protector on whatever terms were offered.
It seemed as if every level of Kaiti society was present, and I
found out that despotic though Achim Fergana was, one of the
ways he held his throne was to open his court to any supplicant
or even the curious, as all achims must. An armed culture like mis
certainly encouraged the murderous and made the meek
meeker, but it also kept people from putting on too many airs.
I noted one man standing near the throne, flanked by two
retainers, who looked very much out of place. He wore an outfit
I'd expect to see in the finest palaces of Nicias: a red silken
tunic, black breeches Moused in high horseman's boots, with a
black riding cloak held by a chain across his chest and a scarlet
skullcap to match his tunic. His beard was blond, and close-
* ly trimmed. Only his weapon fit in with the rude society he was
party of: He carried no sword, but he did wear a ten-inch-long
fighting knife, its sheath mounted horizontally just beside his belt
buckle.
Above the main floor ran a gallery, but it was impossible to see if
anyone occupied it, since movable wrought-iron screens blocked
my vision. This level was for Achim Fergana's women, to listen to
me words of their master and "learn greatness from his wisdom."
Above that was yet another gallery, this one with a very different
purpose. Three sides were filled with archers, who held arrows
ready-nocked, who changed places and relaxed their wariness
every few minutes. Until I discovered this secret, I'd wondered
why, in a land of treachery, the achim didn't seem to care if his
retainers were armed. I wondered no longer. Just to make sure
of the achim's safety, the fourth side, the one directly behind the
throne, held a full complement of jasks, ready to magically strike
anyone who dreamed of endangering their master.
When I learned of these precautions, I wondered why any man
would lust after a throne if he must surround himself with so many
safeguards. I puzzled for a while, then gave the matter up. Would
that I had pursued the thought to its inevitable conclusion. There
might be many millions still alive, and I might not be waiting to die
on a desolate island.
But all that lay in the future.
I save the two greatest marvels for last The first: Wandering
among these men and women were wild beasts, the creatures of
the Border States. I saw a tiger, a small honey bear, a pair of
antelope whose horns intertwined above them, two small jackals,
and other creatures. Overhead flew or sat birds of Kaitóowls,
chickadees, hawks, sparrows. Near the roof sat, in dark majesty,
a horned eagle. All behaved as if they were as rightfully
members of this court as any animal who walked on two legs.
Now I was truly impressed by the magic of the Border States.
Not only were these creatures peaceful, not savaging fi
each other or their mortal enemies they walked among, but they
were carefully controlled, since none of us stepped in ordure, nor
did we smell the reek of the wild.
Of all the displays I've seen in the courts of kings, that still is one
of the most impressive.
The second and final marvel was the man sitting on that great
throne, Achim Baber Fergana.
He was a big man. In his youth, he would have been a frightening
warrior, not only from his size and muscles, but also from his dark
hair that, like his beard, was waxed, brought to a series of points
with gems mounted on each tip.
He was perhaps in his middle fifties and had gone somewhat to
seedóhis belly threatened to overcome his lap, and his beringed
fingers were chubby, as were his cheeks.
But he was still a dangerous man. If I'd faced him in the wrestling
ring, my best tactic would have been to keep out of bis crushing
embrace, and try for a back-heel knockdown. In armed battle, I
imagined, he would prefer an ax or perhaps a double-handed
sword. His tactics would be that of the woodsman, the hewer,
rather than the delicacy of a fencer.
His voice rumbled out, a bearish tone quite fitting his
appearance:
"I seek speech with the nobleman of Numantia."
Tenedos bowed, and started toward the throne. As he did so,
Jask Irshad came from behind the throne and stood beside bis
master.
"Bring your fellows, Seer," Fergana went on. "I desire to meet all
new faces within my realm."
The three of us followed Tenedos. When he stopped, we
stopped. When he bowed, thrice, we followed his lead.
"You may approach my throne and name yourself."
"I am Laish Tenedos, appointed resident-general to the great
Kingdom of Kait, and ambassador plenipotentiary to his Most
Royal Highness, Achim Baber Fergana."
"Honorable sir, do you have papers so identifying yourself?'
"I do indeed___" and Tenedos produced a properly berib-
f> boned and sealed parchment scroll and handed it to Achim
Fergana, who untied its ribbon, opened it, pretended to study it,
summoned his Most Honorable Aide and Most Puissant
Sorcerer, Jask Irshad, and the ceremony went on. In the course
of it, Tenedos gave the achim his presents.
He'd shown them to me before we left the compound, and I'd
been most impressed. The case contained handmade knives,
each one unique to one or another of the states of Numantia. So
there was a thin-bladed fishing knife from Palmeras, a long,
broad-bladed cattleman's knife from the state of Darfur, a brush-
cutting blade of Cimabue that I can attest was also useful in
brawls, and so forth. Each of them was made of polished
ondanique steel, their hilts, grips, and guards of exotic woods
and metals, with gems set into them.
It was evident that Achim Fergana liked them well, for I heard
growls of pleasure, not of rage, from the bear. Then the
ceremonies went on.
I shut off my ears, and pretended to be most attentive. I was
somewhat surprised that a rough warrior like Achim Fergana
truckled in such time-wasting, but guessed he felt it added
legitimacy to his bandit's reign.
Eventually Irshad and Fergana decided Tenedos was no
impostor, and was welcome at this court, so long as he held to
the laws and customs of the fair country of Kait, and Achim
Fergana was most interested in hearing the latest news from
Numantia and its never-to-be-sufficiently-venerated leaders, and
friends, the Rule of Ten.
I heard a very quiet snort at this last, and looked out of the corner
of my eye to see who objected. It was the man with the red
skullcap and dagger.
Evidently Fergana also had good hearing, because when the
ceremony was over he motioned to the man.
"Landgrave Malebranche. Come forward, please."
The man obeyed.
"We are most honored," Fergana said, "to have two
representatives of ancient and honorable courts with us. It is truly
warming that Kait, which has been dubbed the Border States
by the outside world, and we Kaiti, sometimes called no more
than the Men of the Hills, as if we were wandering peasantry,
have attracted such notice.
"Resident Tenedos, allow me to present the Resident from the
country of Kallio, Landgrave Elias Malebranche."
I managed to hide my astonishmentósurely Achim Fergana
knew Kallio was but a state of Numantia, just as Nicias was.
Before anyone could make anything of it, Malebranche bowed.
"Perhaps, O Achim," he said, "because our two states differ in so
many ways it's easy to think of us as being of different
nationalities. But we are the same, which some are proud of, and
others regret."
Tenedos turned slowly to the landgrave, a rank about equivalent
to our count.
"I greet you in the name of your proper rulers," he said, putting
just the slightest emphasis on the last three words, "the Rule of
Ten, and am sure we shall be the best of friends. But Landgrave,
you said something that perplexes me. You say some regret
being citizens of Numantia. Why would anyone be so foolish?"
"I spoke carelessly," Malebranche went on. "I did not mean that
anyone regrets being Numantian, but there are thoseóof course
I am not oneówho feel Numantia is being, shall we say, led in a
rather haphazard fashion these days."
Achim Fergana bellowed laughter.
"Ah, there shall be good times, I can tell, if two representatives of
the same kingdom begin a catfight before they're even fully
introduced. I predict great entertainment for myself and my
court."
Tenedos allowed a smile to show, then vanish.
"I am pleased Your Majesty is amused, and I hope to gladden
him in other, more important ways as part of my mission.
However, do not think a small disagreement about semantics is a
catfight. In the end, Numantians are brothers."
Fergana laughed even more loudly.
"Is that correct, Langrave Malebranche? Do all your folks hew
together when times grow hard?"
* Malebranche's grimace might have been intended to show
private mirth, but he made no answer. Nor did Fergana press him
for one. Instead, he turned back to Tenedos.
"Interesting times, yes." He looked past the seer, at me. "You,
young man. You are the one I have been curious to meet."
I'm afraid I goggled.
"You are the clever soldier who convinced the Wolf of Ghazi you
were a magician, and made him yield his prey, are you not?"
This did not make me any the less mazed, but I managed to
recover control of my face. Did this man ... or rather the sorcery
of his jask... have all knowledge of the borders?
"I am that man, sir," I said.
"You have a quick wit," Fergana said. "I am curious to see how it
shines in the future, and hope that you will have more
opportunities to display it."
"Display it carefully," Irshad put in. "Some of us are not as easily
amused as the achim."
I bowed. "Thank you for the compliment... and for the warning."
Both men looked hard at me, as if graving my featuresó and
soulóinto their minds. I started to step back, but held firm. After
a moment, they both looked to Laish Tenedos.
"I am moved," Achim Fergana said, "to admit you to this court as
an honored representative. All you need do is fulfill one final
duty."
"You have but to ask."
Irshad gestured, and the entire dais, with the throne on it, slid
back, until it was flush against the wall. I could have sworn the
stone had been firmly cemented against the floor. I reminded
myself that merely because the Men of the Hills had barbaric
customs, they were not to be taken lightly, neither in their crafts
nor in their thinking.
Where the dais had sat was a round iron plate, wonderfully
painted as a wheel, with, it seemed, all the creatures and men of
this world on it
Irshad motioned once more, and the plate slid away, revealing a
low pit.
"Step closer," Achim Fergana ordered. "All four of you."
Below us was a miniature of the first level of the chamber room
we stood in. Not only were the details of the room exactly
worked, but it was filled with dolls, each about a single hand high.
I studied them, then looked about me, recognizing the courtiers
who'd modeled for the mannequins. Each member of the court
was represented in this shallow depression, his face most
exactly carved of ivory, and costumes equally realistic.
There were far more dolls than people present that day. The
other difference was that there were no dolls on the tiny dais to
represent either Achim Baber Fergana or the Jask Irshad.
Irshad stepped down into the pit and picked up one doll. It was
an amazing replica of the Kallian, Landgrave Male-branche.
"This is not a child's conceit, Resident Tenedos," Fergana said.
"I have already sensed that, O Achim," Tenedos said.
"Remember, my main craft is not that of diplomacy."
"Ah yes. I forgot. Each of these figurines contains at least a bit of
hair from the manóor womanóit represents. I require anyone
who chooses to attend my court to provide such matter."
"I must protest," Tenedos said. "That could give magical control
of the person into your... or your sorcerers'... hands."
"It could," Fergana said. "But I am a man of honor, and would
never take advantage of that, nor would I allow any of my jasks to
commit such an offense."
"Then why do you require it?"
"Honor begets honor... and the reverse is true as well," Fergana
said. "I am afraid there have been men come to my court who
intended evil. But once they were confronted with this choice,
with providing Jask Irshad with the necessary items, they either
fled, or else remained most honorable while they were in Sayana.
T * "When your service here is completed, the doll will be given
to you as a memento. I also require such items from any of your
representatives, such as the clever Legate Damastes &
Cimabue, who will attend my court."
"I cannot provide such items," replied Tenedos, "and again must
protest the lack of trust you show in a properly accredited
representative of the court of Numantia."
"Your protest is heard and rejected."
"Then I have no other choice than to withdraw my credentials."
"If that is what you must do, then do what you must," Fergana
said, amused.
"The Rule of Ten will be most displeased."
"No doubt," Fergana said. "But it is a very long way back through
Sulem Pass, through Urey, and down the Latane River to your
capital. By the time word reaches the Rule of Ten, iIit ever does,
and they decide to take whatever course of action necessary to
protect the rather imagined interests of one man... well, a great
deal of time will have passed, and in that time many things will
most likely have occurred."
Landgrave Malebranche smiled, and I could well imagine what he
was thinking: With the Numantian envoy, who of course in his
view spoke only for Dara and Nicias, discredited, there could well
be opportunity to make a pact with Kallio's new prime minister,
Chardin Sher. Which no doubt was exactly why the landgrave
was present in Sayana.
I glanced at my men: Bikaner's face was set in stubborn refusal,
as was Horseman Svalbard's.
Tenedos looked at me, and his lips were pressed together
angrily.
I saw one of the court's animalsóa strangely striped
antelopeówander past, and an idea came me.
Supposedly magicians can transfer their thoughts one to another,
without the necessity of speech. I've heard of, but never seen,
such a marvel, even though I doubt it not. Nor do I believe very
highly in omens or people somehow sensing a dear one in dire
straits many miles away.
But in that instant I stared hard at Laish Tenedos, willing my idea
to go out, to enter his brain, to sweep across the few feet
between us like an invisible wave. I allowed myself to nod... just a
bit. Tenedos blinked, and his expression became bland once
more. His eyebrow lifted, questioningly.
Again, I chanced a tiny nod.
Tenedos turned back to Achim Fergana.
"I... see," he said, slowly. "This is a very new, very shocking
idea."
"But one that must be obeyed."
"May I have a day to consider it?"
Irshad started to say something, but Fergana's glance silenced
him. "I do not mean to insult, but there is no way this edict can be
gotten around, by trickery or any other way. You must provide a
bit of hair, at the very least. Most are willing to give a drop of
blood and saliva as well, to assure me of their loyalty.
"But I shall not require all such items from outlanders.
"Very well. This time tomorrow, you are to present yourselves
here, to me. No. Make it two days distant. That will give my
artisans a chance to make the dolls, and you may have the
pleasure of seeing them.
"At that time, you must either clip a bit of hair from each of your
heads to be inserted into the figures, or else forever depart my
court, the city of Sayana, and the Kingdom of Kait, as a declared
enemy of this country.
'Is that completely understood?"
Tenedos looked at me, and he appeared slightly worried. I was
not. Either my idea could be accomplished in seconds, or not at
all.
His lips firmed.
"I agree."
"Very well," Achim Fergana said. "In forty-eight hours, we shall
meet once more. You have leave to go."
EIGHT The Deceivers As soon as we'd returned to the
compound, Tenedos took me to his quarters, said a few quick
words at each corner of the room to ensure there were no
magical listeners present, and said, "I assume you were not
wriggling your eyebrows from an itch, Damastes."
"I was not. Perhaps I've a solution to our, er, embarrassment."
'Tell me. I would far rather find a way around this quandary than
be forced to confront it directly." He smiled wryly. "What a
strange predicament I am in. If my theory is correct, and the Rule
of Ten wishes something to happen to me, I'm afraid the minor
disaster of being rejected at Achim Fergana's court would hardly
be enough to send in the heavy regiments. It would, however, be
enough to ruin my reputation in Nicias. I can hear the jests
nowóa highly trained seer, a great magician of Numantia, foxed
in his first state assignment by a barbarian with dolls. Well, I do
not propose to fail," and steel was in his voice. "So what is your
plan, my friend?"
"A question first, sir? When we first entered the city, and you
turned the guards' spearheads into gold, you held something
hidden in your handóheld like this, am I correct?"
Tenedos nodded. "Good eyes, my friend. I held a small
golden amulet that's been given certain powers to transmute
base metal, although of course the amount of magical energy
required for the task makes it prohibitively expensive, or else the
lowliest peasant's geegaws would be golden, and the metal
would lose all value.
"I assume, when you were a boy, the sleight-of-hand artists who
attempted to deceive at the local bazaars hated you on sight."
"Nosir. I never let on when I spotted how they did something. I
told a friend once how a conjurer did a trick, and he got angry,
and said he would rather not know where the scarves or doves
are hidden. So I never did again. But I thought you were quite
goodóthe only reason I could see what was in your hand was I
was behind and to the side. If I'd been in front, like the Kara'
were... I would have seen nothing."
"Still, I had best spent more time exercising my fingers,"
Tenedos said. "No one likes to be found out. So you think my
legerdemain might provide a solution?"
I explained what I had in mind. A smile slowly grew across
Tenedos's face.
"Indeed. That sounds a definite plan. I like it I think it could well
work, because I shall be performing in front of another magician,
and no one is easier to fool than the man who himself wears a
mask.
"Yes. However, I had best begin practicing. We will also need to
involve your troop guide in our little conspiracy."
Two days later, we returned to Achim Fergana's court This time,
there were but the three of us. We arrived a little earlier than the
hour set, and spent the time moving among the people of the
court. There was quite a crowd that dayóno doubt the thought of
seeing the humiliation, one way or another, of the loathed
Numantians guaranteed a crowd.
Tenedos was the perfect diplomat, speaking to a man here, a
woman there, introducing himself as he went, pausing for a
sweetmeat from one of the passing servitors, patting one of the
court animals as it passed, Troop Guide Bikaner behind him like
a proper retainer, and then there came a shouting of sol-
diers' voices, and Achim Baber Fergana stalked into the room.
Behind him was Jask Irshad.
Without preamble, he walked to the throne, and waited until all
finished bowing, in our case, or prostrating themselves, as the
Kaiti were required.
"Resident-General Tenedos," his voice boomed, "you heard my
orders two days gone. Are you now prepared to obey them, or
are you defying my edict and our customs?"
"I still resent the implication I, or any of my retinue, would
consider harming Your Majesty," Tenedos said. "However, in the
interests of national amity, I am prepared to agree." He walked
forward, and took from a pouch at his belt three tiny golden
boxes. He opened them.
"Troop Guide Bikaner of Numantia, are you prepared to sacrifice
for the good of the country you serve?"
"I am," Bikaner said, and the slight quaver of his voice seemed
real. He walked forward, and removed his helmet. Tenedos took
a tiny pair of silver scissors from his pouch and, with a bit of
difficulty considering Bikaner's close crop, snipped off a bit of
hair and let it fall into the box. He snapped the box shut, and
touched it to his forehead.
"Nothing is in here that came from outside this court," he
announced, and set it on the edge of the dais.
"Legate Damastes a Cimabue, are you ready for this sacrifice?"
Tenedos said.
"I am."
Hair from my head was cut and put in another box, and again
Irshad checked to make sure we had not somehow managed to
substitute someone else's hair that we'd brought into the castle
with us. Then it was Tenedos's turn.
When all three boxes were on the dais, Irshad stepped behind
the throne and brought out three dolls. They were mar-velously
made, each of them not only exactly clothed as we had been at
the previous ceremony, but the expressions on the ivory faces
were very recognizable, although, truth to tell, I did not think I
looked quite that young.
The clothing of each was opened, revealing that the dolls r
had been carved from wood. In the center of the wooden
skeleton was a small hole stuffed with clay. Jask Irshad, his lips
moving in an inaudible incantation, opened each of the boxes
he'd been given, took out the bits of hair, and pressed them into
the clay of the appropriate dolls.
He finished, and stepped onto the dais. Again he motioned,
again the dais slid back and then, with another gesture, the
miniature court was revealed.
Irshad put the three of us into the sceneójust beside the doll that
represented Landgrave Malebranche. Then the pit's cover slid
back, and the dais returned.
Irshad bowed.
"I thank you, in the name of the Most Bountiful of Mon-archs,
Achim Baber Fergana, and wish to congratulate you in being able
to bask here and learn from his wisdom and decisions."
"Very well," Fergana said. "Enough of magic. Now, let us to
business." He sounded relieved, and I suspected that he, like
many of us, was most uncomfortable around any sort of sorcery,
even though it was intended to benefit him.
And so the slow dance of diplomacy was finally allowed to begin.
Our deception had succeeded.
Our tasks in Sayana were three-fold. First was to represent
Numantia, and attempt to keep Achim Fergana from making any
decision that would be harmful to our national interests. Second
was to provide information on this new organization called the
Tovieti. Third was the long-range and probably impossible job of
trying to encourage the Kaiti to change their warlike ways, or at
any rate direct them away from Numantia, especially Urey.
It had been five years since there had been a Numantian
resident-general in Sayana. The previous holder of (he office had
died quite suddenly and mysteriously; we were variously told of
drink, of an overly heavy intake of the spice leaves the Kaiti were
partial to, or of some disease brought on by insani-
* ty. Tenedos said he believed none of them but had no
conjectures of his own.
The Rule of Ten had given Tenedos the list of agents the
previous resident-general had developed, and we were to
contact them and put them back to work.
This was almost impossible, since any Numantian who went out
of the estate was instantly spotted and followed, either by one of
Irshad's agents or by a mob that would grow in size and anger,
shouting threats and hurling an occasional stone at the hated
enemy.
But it took little investigation, no more than a cursory visit to the
neighborhoods these agents supposedly lived in, to realize there
was little need to worry about exposing anyone to the wrath of the
achim and his torturers. Either the former resident-general had
made up his spies entirely and pocketed their pay, or else they'd
fled when he diedóand I believed the former most likely. A
stable in which the blacksmith was one of ours had burned to the
ground. A tavern was now a fortuneteller's shop. A residence
where our man was described as a strapping youth held nothing
but doddering crones.
If we were to have spies of our own, we would have to grow them
from our own seedlings. Since I had little knowledge and less
inclination for this dark world, we were severely handicapped,
and I wondered why Tenedos's retainers had not included an
experienced warden who knew about informants and agents and
duplicity. Tenedos himself, a bit shamefacedly, said he'd always
been interested in spies, and had some theories, but this land
was a terrible place to test them, so he'd be no real help.
We found out a great deal about Jask Irshad, and very little of it
was favorable. He was the kingdom's most talented sorcerer,
and was also blindly ambitious. He'd come late to Achim Baber
Fergana's court, and some whispered that he'd waited to make
his declaration until he was sure the achim had a firm hold on the
throne. Since then, he'd ensured he was Fergana's most needed
servant, providing him not only with magical resources, but with a
network of agents that ran from the
top to the bottom of Sayana. I thought him a loathsome being,
and he seemed to return the opinion. One of his few honestly
held beliefs was a complete hatred of any non-Kaiti.
I mentioned my dislike once to Tenedos, and he shrugged, and
told me he felt no particular hatred for the man. "He is, in his way,
a patriot," Tenedos said. "He is ambitious, but what of that?
Aren't we all? Frankly, I am learning some things from him, and I
suggest, Damastes, you follow my exampleóI've found no man
so monstrous that something in his character is not worth the
study." I had better ways to spend my time than studying a
sewer, but kept that thought to myself.
My main concern was with our native soldiery, since they were
the most dangerous, being close to us at all times.
I called them into the courtyard, and bade them watch while I put
my own troop through a series of drills. They were unmoved,
since they fought singly, and believed soldiers fighting in
formation were no better than puppets. I then had the best of my
swordsmen and fighters show their abilities. This the Men of the
Hills understood, and were impressed by.
Next I invited their best bladesmen to try their skills, with
sheathed blades, against my men. The hillmen did their best, but
only beat my Numantians one out of four times.
Finally, I divided them up into small groups, did the same with my
men, and set them against each otheróone on one, one on two,
two on one, three on one, and all the desperately unfair
combinations that real war brings. Once more, they were bested
by Lancers and the KLI.
I then put them in formation, and said I proposed to turn them
into soldiers, and if any of them objected, they were welcome to
leave Numantian employ. There were mutters and dark looks.
Before mutiny could develop, I announced the first four changes:
Their old, reeking uniforms would be burned, and replaced with
much smarter regalia Tenedos had sketched and ordered local
seamstresses to make; their filthy quarters would be cleaned and
painted by outside workmen and thereafter kept spotless; their
cooks had been discharged as the incom-
petent slop-handlers they were and the men would now eat at
the same tables and from the same menu as we did; and finally
their wages would be increased percent, paid weekly in gold.
This got the darkest of looks from their leader, Gyula Wollo, but
the rest of the men were shouting enthusiasm.
While the romance still bloomed, I put my lance-majors and the
KLFs sergeants to work, drilling the tribesmen hard, but not that
hard, and with orders never, ever to swear or treat these hillmen
as if they were anything other than the noblest of Numantians.
When my warrants were satisfied, I would order the levies to be
integrated into the Numantian forces. Hopefully the tribesmen
would learn how to soldier by exampleó and, of course, I would
have the added security of having a trusted man at each hillman's
side at all times. A double advantage of this was that my men
were also being trained, yet in a way that was fresh to them, so
the various drills kept their interest I sent for Wollo, and informed
him I would be making an accounting of the monies paid to the
hill soldiers, to make sure there'd been no errors.
He glared at me. "S'posin' that things don't look straight," he said.
"Rememberin' I'm not one f'r numbers."
"You'll have a chance to explain any discrepancies."
"Y'know," he tried, "there's nobody honest in Sayana, so it wuz
necessary sometimes t'slip a coin or two under th' table."
"No doubt," I said. "If I have any questions, or if Resident-
General Tenedos has, of course any explanations will be listened
to."
"E'en if it's naught but my word?"
"You are an officer, and any officer under my command is
assumed to always tell the truth, or else he's cashiered. Besides,
Resident-General Tenedos is a seer, ajask, and his sorcery can
instantly scent the truth.
"An honest man has nothing to fear."
Wollo tried for a smile, failed, and made his departure. Of
course, he was gone by the time we shut the gates for the night,
leaving his few possessions behind. But my investigation of the
levies' funds showed that, unless he were a complete wastrel, he
would have been able to buy himself a new wardrobe
handilyóand a mansion to closet it in.
I'd expected nothing different.
Similarly, Tenedos's retainers put their efficient hands to work on
the household staff, and little by little we made the Residency
into a livable part of the world. They were given invaluable
assistance from our castelan, Eluard, once he was assured we
had no plans to audit his accounts. That thief was firmly on our
side.
Time would bring even greater changesóbut none of us was
under any illusions that we would have that commodity.
It did not take spies, or magic, to realize that Sayana was
seething. We dared not ride into the countryside, but assumed
that whatever was happening in the capital would be occurring
throughout the Border States. Worse, we heard feuds were
being reborn throughout the country, with the promise that "all
would be settled soon... when the Change came." All Kait was
abubble with the steam of war, as we'd seen coming through
Sulem Pass.
We Numantians were hated, as were all outlanders. A favorite
slogan chalked or painted on any open wall was: M'rt tePh'reng!
Death to Outlanders.
It took little conversation in a tavern to find most Kaiti felt that
meant all foreigners, without fear or favor. Whether you were
Ureyan, Nician, Kallian, or any other Numantian, or Maisirian or
any other breed, including natives of the other Border Regions,
you were enemy, and legitimate prey, either by shortchanging or
a spear through the chest There were other Numantians in
Sayana besides our own soldiery and Tenedos's retainers.
There were about civilians, in various occupations from
merchant to mendicant to swordmaker to a handful who'd married
Kaiti and come back to live with them or their children. Both
Tenedos and I wished they would flee Sayana before the storm
broke, but we could * say nothing. In the event of catastrophe, it
would be our duty to try to protect them.
One thing I could learn nothing about was the Tovieti. Mete
mention of the word was enough to end a conversation and
silence any tavern. There weren't even any rumors to be
heardóor at least none that would be repeated to a Numantian.
However, Tenedos pointed out that this hushed silence did
indicate the Tovieti were not a fever-dream creation of some
Nician bureaucrat. "All information, my good Damastes, is
valuable," he said. "Even in its absence." I definitely was not cut
out for a career in espionage.
I was able to find out a little about Fergana's brother, Chamisso.
He was mentioned in only two waysómostly as if he were the
biggest monster in the land. This came from anyone who held
any position of authority, or anyone who wasn't sure of the
allegiance of the person he was speaking to. Other people,
servants and workers, the poor, spoke of him as if he bore all the
virtues of the Fergana family, while his brother, the achim, had all
the evil. This was not a good sign: It was clear the Pretender in
the Hills was far more popular than the court believed, and that
popularity was growing.
I allowed my Lancers to go out only in fours or more, with at least
one warrant in each group. They didn't like that much, and
Captain Mellet thought I was being overly severe. But after a half
dozen of his infantrymen were nearly beaten to death in
"spontaneous" tavern fights, he gave similar orders.
Not that many of my men wanted to go outside the compound
anyway. I set up our own tavern, bought wine and spirits in bulk,
and sold them just above cost. Food, well cooked in the
Numantian manner, was always available from our kitchens.
As for sex, there were the whores the KLI had brought with them,
and the native staff was mostly women. Since they were in the
employ of Irshad or Fergana's spymasters, they'd been chosen
as much for their social abilities as cleaning talents. They were
almost all young, quite striking, and most friendly.
Whatever arrangements they made with my men was not
my business, and so I made no inquiries as to who slept where
when he was off duty. I'd been taught, in the academy, that spies
value pillow talk, and worried for a few days until I hit the obvious
solution: Pillow talk is completely harmless if the talker doesn't
know anything important.
We had few secrets, really, and most of those we did were held
by Laish Tenedos, myself, and Captain Mellet. There were other
things an enemy might wish to know that a foolish lance might
confide, such as when guards were changed, or where the posts
were, but those I changed frequently.
I, myself, slept alone, remembering my father's teachings,
although I still recollect one young woman, one responsible for
the floral arrangements in each room. She was dark, with a quick
and easy smile. She also had roseate nipples and curvaceous
legs that I saw once when she'd "thought I was out," and
changed her dress in my roomówhile I "just happened" to be
drowsing in the bath. I am sure we would have ended in the same
bed in time, but time was not there.
I was a bit surprised by Laish Tenedos; more than once I saw
women slip into or out of his quarter at an unseemly hour, and
once I heard a bit of a giggling conversation when I passed by a
larder "Ay, yes, th' wizard's ripe for love, an' with an eye for th'
unusual, but there's one strangeó" but my footfall was heard so I
never learned what was unusual. But the more I thought on it, the
less it mattered. Tenedos was not married, or if he was he never
spoke of his wife. What did it matter whether he slept alone or
with someone? Kaiti customs were hardly straitlaced, and the
higher in society the more open they were. I paid no more mind
to the matter. He was my superior, and besides I assumed he
had sense enough not to babble in his lustiness.
Suddenly I had other things to contend with.
It was well after midnight, and I was sitting with Tenedos in his
study when the screams came.
We were relaxing after a long day with one of Achim Fergana's
greedier assistants working on a proposed pact, where-
* in Numantia would agree to provide a sizable amount of gold to
the achim, in exchange for which he promised to do "all that lay
within his powers and authority" to dissuade the Men of the Hills
from raiding into Urey. Tenedos wanted a more concrete
assurance, such as the achim's willingness to permit cross-
border pursuits or even cooperation with our border-patrol units
such as the Lancers, and the achim just wanted more gold.
I was listening to Tenedos hold forth on just what was wrong with
the way Numantia was ruled, and how each of the states must be
required to provide more support for their kingdom, for which
they'd receive far greater benefits than at present, when the
peaceful night air was ripped apart by screams.
Before the echoes died, I was up and out, bare sword in hand.
The screams came from belowstairs, in the building we were in. I
heard shouts of the duty warrants turning out the guard, and
outcries from civilians.
The screamer was on the first floor, standing just outside the
entrance to Eluard's quarters. It was one of the scullery wenches,
and I wondered why she was abroad at this hour.
She was hysterical, and could only point inside.
I pushed her aside and went in.
The apartments were very luxuriousóas plush as those of
Tenedos. Eluard's little thieveries mounted into quite a sum, I
saw.
Slumped in a fat padded chair was Eluard.
Two glasses of liqueur were on the table in front of him. One, the
closest to him, had been drained. The other was full to the brim.
The ends of a long, yellow silk cord dangled on his chest, and
the cord was buried in the folds of his purpled neck. Eluard's
tongue protruded grotesquely, as did his eyes, and I smelled shit
from the voiding of his bowels.
He was still warm to the touch, but very, very dead.
There were people behind me in the doorway, and I heard that
word that didn't exist in Sayana:
"Tovieti!"
**
An hour later the body was gone, reluctantly lugged away by what
the Kaiti called their wardens. They were terrified of touching the
corpse, and refused to offer any explanation of what could have
happened, nor any theories as to why Eluard would have been a
target.
All of the estate's gates were still locked or barred from the
inside.
The wardens made no attempt to search the house or interrogate
any of the staff. The wench had been one of Eluard's bed
companions, and this was her night to sleep with him, no more.
I made brief inquiries of the warrants of the watch, and ordered a
close check of the building for previously unnoticed entryways,
but doubted I'd find anything with such a physical search.
What clues might be discovered were in that silk cord.
It lay across Laish Tenedos's desk. He had both of the trunks
mat held his magical implements open, and an assortment of
tools ready. He'd cleared the rugs back from the floor, and
scribed certain symbols within a small triple circle that held a
triangle inside its innermost round. For some reason, looking at
those unknown characters sent a slow chill along my spine, and I
tried to keep my eyes away from them.
He had a small brazier on his desk, and was adding herbs to it
from vials. I saw the labels on a few: Wormwood, Broom,
Mandrake, Elder, Maidenhair.
He finished and set the brazier at one point of the triangle. He
took the Tovieti's silk strangling cord and then stood in the circle
with his feet touching the other two tips.
"Now, my friend, if you'll be good enough to take that taper and
hold it to the brazier when I tell you, I would be appreciative. After
that, please have your dagger ready. If anything ... unforeseen
happens, or if it appears I am in any danger, you must cut
through all three rounds of the circle. Please do it quickly,
because events might occur rather rapidly and I feel I am going
in harm's way."
I nodded understanding. I was far more nervous than Tene-
* dosóI'd never even been present at a magical rite, let alone
assisted in one.
"Light the brazier." Tenedos's voice was calm.
I did, and jumped back as a blue flame roared up and touched
the ceiling, but it was a heatless flame.
Tenedos began chanting:
"Now we go To the heart Whence you came Where you were
gifted.
"With your brothers With your sisters Whence you came Now we
go."
The flame lowered, but still was the height of a man. More flames
appeared, around each circle that had been chalked onto the
floor, and darted around them as if they were being chased or
were chasing.
Dark-green fire flashed at each of the triangle's tips, and then it
was as if Tenedos vanished.
He still stood there, but his spirit was elsewhere. His head
moved, back and forth, and I was reminded of a hawk, looking
down from the sky for his prey. His gaze swept back and forth,
then looked up, as if the "hawk" were approaching a cliff. His lips
drew back, in a snarl, half fright, half rage, and he shuddered.
I started to make the cuts, but held back.
Again his eyes went back and forth, and then flared open, as if in
astonishment. He gaped, and terror gripped him. His mouth
came open to scream, and I slashed once, then again to make
sure.
The fires vanished and Laish Tenedos returned. He dropped the
silken cord and tried to take a step, but staggered. I helped him
to his seat, and started to pour brandy.
"No," he said, his voice a croak. "First, water."
I poured a glassful, and he drained it, then another.
"Now I know our enemy," he said, and his tones were grim. "But
now... brandy. Pour yourself one."
I obeyed, though I wanted it not. He sipped at his, gathering his
thoughts.
"The Tovieti certainly do exist," he said. "I followed the trail their
strangling cord gave me to their stronghold. Or, perhaps, only
one of their redoubts. It is in a great cavern, some distance from
here. Perhaps two, perhaps three days' travel, deep in the
mountains. I suppose, with someone to help me with the maps, I
could find it once more.
"I found the cave, and I entered it, but without using an entrance.
There was a huge center room, and I noted passageways
leading off to the side. I do not know where they lead.
"There were people inside. Men and women. A thousand at least,
more likely more. They were all dressed in white, although some
of them were quite dirty. I think all, or most of them anyway, were
Kaiti. To one side was a great pile of gold, gems, other treasure.
"It seemed as if these people were waiting for something.
"There was a throne, man-made, and in front of it was what might
be called an altar, but one such as I've never seen nor heard of.
It was cylindrical, like a field drum, and quite high, perhaps twenty
feet above the chamber's floor.
"Standing around it were men and women, also wearing white,
but each of them also wore a yellow sash. I think, although I may
have imagined it, that one of them looked a great deal like a
younger, and less rotund, Baber Fergana."
"His brother," I guessed.
"Perhaps. I tried to move my presence closer, and then
someone... something ... sensed me, for all at once the crowd
began howling in rage. The people with the sashesóthe leaders,
I guessóseemed to see me, because they, too, shouted in
rage, and began pointing at me.
* "I wasn't sure what to do, then a horrible feeling of dread
washed over me. Dread, and then fear, as if I were suddenly
confronted by a raging tiger.
"I was about to be seized and torn... and then you cut the circle
and saved me.
"For the second time, Damastes. Once more and you shall have
to adopt me, for only kinfolk should have such a debt" Tenedos
smiled weakly, trying to make a small joke.
I paid no mind to that.
"What was that something, sir? Another magician? Or
magicians? Did you sense Irshad?"
"I don't know. If another magician, a powerful one. Perhaps a
group of sorcerers, or jasks.
"All I know for sure is the Tovieti most certainly do exist, and, if
their reaction to my presence is any indicator, are hostile toward
Numantians or, at any rate, this Numantian. Perhaps if I wore a
sign reminding everyone I am from Palmeras and am not much
more fond of other Numantians than they are, I might be safe."
He shuddered and knocked back the brandy. "The Rule of Ten
are not the panicky fools I feared they might be. There is
something here, something dangerous. When we find a way to
send a confidential pouch back through the pass, I shall inform
the Rule of what occurred."
"And as for ourselves?"
"I do not know," Tenedos said. "The cord revealed no secrets as
to how entry was made to this mansion by the assassin, nor if
one of our retainers pulled the strangling cord tight. Their sorcery
is thorough. I imagine the only reason I was able to track the cord
to its home was there are few magicians here in Sayana with
powers to match mine.
"As for what we do next, I can increase the magical wards I've
placed around these buildings, but that's nothing more than a
temporary, defensive maneuver. All we can do is be most wary,
and hope we will be able to discover their plans... if they pertain
to us... before the Tovieti can put them into execution. My
apologies. That last was a terrible choice of words."
r
He drank another glass of brandy, not noticing that I'd barely
tasted mine, then I returned to my quarters.
But I did not sleep.
Nor, from the number of lighted windows in the mansion, did
almost anyone else.
Two days later, we received an invitation for a banquet at the
court of Achim Baber Fergana. The invitation was a command,
since the occasion was the joyous celebration of the anniversary
of Achim Fergana's ascent to the throne. Any member of the
nobility not actually on his deathbed was required to attend, with
appropriate presents, or his absence would be deemed a
declaration of blood feud against the achim.
I'd already weathered a few of the achim's feasts, and wished
there was some way I could avoid this one. His idea of merriment
was to listen to endless speeches, songs, and poems extolling
his brilliances in every field from bed to politics to war, while
nibbling at a continuous flow of delicacies. These were washed
down with spice leaves, which convinced the chewer, in his
dreamlike state, that he was gifted with all the virtues Msu had
given Mankind. To keep from falling asleep, one drank a'rag, an
oily, lethally effective distillation of the juice of oranges. By the
next morning death would be counted one of Umar's greatest
blessings.
Since there could be but one unutterably excellent person per
banquet, the goings-on tended to produce arguments and, the
Men of the Hills being as they were, duels. This Achim Fergana
thought capital, and encouraged his nobility to hack away at each
other with swords or daggers until at least one fighter was too
bloody to continue.
But there was no alternative.
Things went badly from the beginning.
The throne room was filled with tables, and the animals had been
banished to a mews outside, where they would be given their
own feast. The room was packed with Kaiti nobility. Men were the
only ones allowed present Tapers along the walls and small oil-
filled lights on each table provided illumination.
Achim Baber Fergana sat on his throne, a table in front of him.
At such a banquet particularly honored noblemen and foreign
dignitaries were seated at the first long table, directly in front of
him. This night, it was Seer Tenedos, myself, and, three seats
away, the Kallian, Landgrave Elias Malebranche. He caught my
eye, and raised his glass with a rueful smile. I returned the mock
toastóit was clear he was enjoying the evening no more than
we were.
Achim Fergana was in a foul mood, and its reason took little
investigation. The center chair at our table was emptyóthe chair
reserved for Jask Irshad. There were three of his high-ranking
sorcerers present, but no sign of the master magician. I
wondered how anyone, even of his high station, could dare defy
the achim. Something terribly unforeseen must have happened.
Naturally, the achim assuaged his anger by drinking and chewing
more than usual, and barely touched the delicacies offered to
him. The great pile of gifts to one side of the throne was ignored.
Matters peaked as a particularly untalented bard was holding
forth, in wretched doggerel:
"Fergana struck in that hour Feeling the strength within him
flower. Sword in hand he made them cower Blood would fill that
peaceful bower.
"With his sword, that fearsome blade, The Mighty Oneó"
The Mighty One had enough and, with a roar of incoherent rage,
hurled a golden plate at the poet. He realized his masterpiece
was unappreciated, and fled hastily.
"Where in the hells is my jask?' Fergana roared. "How dare he
shame me in this hour, as I celebrate my triumph? Guard
captains! I want this castle searched until he is found! Turn out
the watch... turn out a regiment and search every street in Say
ana if necessary!"
T X, CHRI$ BUNCH He roared on. I was staring in fascination,
never having been close to a monarch's wrath before, and then I
shivered. It had suddenly become very, very cold. My breath was
steam, and my fingers were growing numb.
Then I saw the fog.
It crept in from nowhere and everywhere, as if doors had been
flung open, and the mists of a winter night had come rolling in on
us. But it had been clear and temperate when we arrived. The
mist came more thickly, a dark, seething ocean with flecks of light
within it I thought it would fill the throne room solidly, but it formed
into near-solid, shimmering shapes.
A voice crashed into our ears:
"Baber Fergana... this is the hour of reckoning. Now is the
moment of my revenge, my brother."
Chamisso Fergana! Yet I saw no human form.
The fog swept toward the throne. One of Achim Fergana's
nobles leaped to his feet, sword in hand, and slashed vainly at
the mist. It took him, lifted him, and tore him in twain, blood
gouting and entrails spattering, steaming in the cold. He had not
even time to scream before he was dead, his torn corpse cast
aside.
Fergana was up, his own blade out The fog seized and pinioned
him, pulling his arms apart until he might have been stretched
helpless on an invisible rack.
Gratings above us clattered open, and the achim's archers in the
gallery took aim, and arrows volleyed. Some of them struck
homeóin Kaiti bodiesóbut most clattered against the flagstoned
floor.
The fog swept up, and there were screams as it fell on the
guards, held them helpless like pinioned kittens, and throttled
them.
Tenedos fumbled in the small pouch at his belt, and down the
table the Fergana's jasks were yammering magical phrases,
trying to devise up a counterspell.
Laughter rang through the room, laughter I thought I'd heard
before. Then came Jask Irshad's voice:
K "You fools can save your efforts. My magic is far greater than
yours could ever hope to be, just as I am the greatest jask in this
or any other land.
"Baber Fergana, O False Achim, this is the time you shall rue all
of the shame, all of the humiliation, you have dealt me over the
years, even though I was once your most faithful servant. I fled
your tyranny before dawn this morning, knowing I would return
after nightfall, and finally strike back at a time and a manner
Chamisso Fergana desires.
"A long time ago, when first I realized the depths of your evil, I
came up with a device I told you would provide perfect safety.
Dolls, each of which would contain the life-element of everyone
around you.
"You, fat roaring fool that you are, thought it an extraordinary idea.
And so you let whoever owns the dolls own the heart ofKait.
"Look not beneath the dais, O false Achim whose doom comes.
For I have the dolls, and I am fled into a safe place, where I have
sworn eternal fealty to your brother, the achim-to-be, Chamisso
Fergana.
"Know this, too, dog of an achim. Over the years, little by little, I
was able to make another doll. A doll of you, although it could
easily be mistaken for some peasant's pig, so foul and
misbegotten does it appear.
"It holds your hair, your spittle, a bit of your blood, even some of
your life fluid one of the whores you call wives permitted me to
scrape from the inside of her thigh.
"You are mine, Baber Fergana, and you shall die most slowly, in
a manner that will be told of in whispers until the city ofSayana
has fallen stone from stone.
"I shall now give you the pleasure of seeing what that death is,
and making your agony even more dire.
"I thought of wreaking it on someone you hold dear, but realized
there is no such being.
"The only one you love, Baber Fergana, is yourself.
"So I asked permission, and the achim-to-be was kind
enough to grant it, to rid Kait of two of its enemies, from a land
that we'll deal with most harshly when Chamisso Fergana sits the
throne.
"Yourfate is here, SeerLaish Tenedos and Legate Damastes d
Cimabue. I hold the mannequins you were foolish enough to give
your substance to, and I give them to my wraith!"
The fog lowered from the balcony, and I pulled my sword, as
stupidly as Fergana or that nobleman, but knowing nothing else
to do. It formed tentacles, and the tendrils hesitated, then began
flailing about, like vines in a windstorm, as if the fog were unsure
of its victims, suddenly blinded. Then, from outside the castle, I
heard the sudden screams of animals in agony, the poor beasts
the fog now was tearing at.
When Bikaner, Damastes, and myself had donated our hair for
the dolls, Damastes had switched the tiny golden boxes before
handing them to Jask Irshad. Since he suspected Irshad might
test them, to make sure we hadn't smuggled in matter from
outside, he and Troop Guide Bikaner had secretly clipped bits of
hair from three of the court animals. That animal hair had gone
into the boxes and thence into our dolls, and now, those beasts
died our deaths.
Time stopped, no one moved, and the fog itself was immobile.
But next to me Laish Tenedos's fingers blurred.
The Seer Tenedos cast far greater spells later, spells that held
or broke entire armies. But this might have been his most
impressive, since he had no time to prepare, nor materials to
choose from. He later told me he had rue and red eyebright in his
pouch, and used mustard and horseradish from the table
condiments. He muddled them together on his plate, then
dropped the mixture into the tiny flame of the oil lamp in front of
him. He said the real strength of the spell was in the words, and
not the materials used. I do not know the language he spoke in,
and Tenedos never offered to tell me what the words meant or
what they summoned. But I can recollect them precisely, and set
them down as they sounded in my ears:
"Plenator c'vish Milem Han'eh delak morn Morn sevel morn
Venet seul morn T'ghast l'ener orig Origmorn Orig mom
Plenator c'vish Milem."
I felt warmth, warmth growing into heat, and in seconds it was hot
in the hall, very hot, like the heat of a summer day in the desert
outside.
The fog coiled, then shriveled, like a slug in a saltcellar, and a
long, dying wail came, like a man falling into a bottomless abyss,
and the throne room was clear.
Baber Fergana stood next to his throne, sword forgotten on the
stones beside him, his face a gape of amazement.
Men stared at each other, realizing they yet lived. But in that
instant before the babble started, Jask Irshad's voice came:
"Very well. Fergana, the magic of the Ph'reng has given you life
once more.
"But I still hold the dolls, False Achim. And my sorcery has barely
been tested.
"Chamisso Fergana and I have another idea. You have three
days, Baber Fergana. If you give up your throne, I will give you an
easy death, far easier than that you 've granted your enemies.
This is only because of the Most Benevolent Chamisso
Fergana's concern for the people ofSayana.
"But if you do not abdicate, in three days I shall return. And I shall
bring another death to you, death in its most terrible, most
lingering form.
"It shall not come just to you, but to everyone in your court, every
man... and woman... whose spirit I possess in my mannequins.
"If you still cling to your throne, I promise I shall kill everyone who
now hears me very slowly, in an awful manner.
H
"Then Chamisso Fergana will loose his secret allies, the Tovieti,
to ravage the streets ofSayana.
"Consider my offer, False Achim.
"Consider my offer, princes who serve evil.
"In three days, I shall return for my answer."
There was silence, silence broken by a babble.
I saw Landgrave Malebranche hurry from the room, and
wondered why Irshad had ignored the other Ph'reng in the throne
room. But other things were more important.
Tenedos was on the dais, talking to Achim Fergana. He went to
the back of his throne and touched a level I'd never noticed, and
the dais swung away, revealing that the trick was mechanical, not
magical.
The cover of the pit was gone, and the depression was empty, of
course.
Now the babble redoubled, and despair, rage, and fear roared
through the chamber. But that went almost unheard.
I was staring across the chamber, into Laish Tenedos's eyes,
and their message was clear:
If Kait was not to be turned over to anarchy, and the always-
turbulent kingdom explode north into Urey and Numantia in its
chaos, somehow I was going to have three days to find and steal
back that collection of dolls.
NINE The Raiders ayana was atumble with noise, confusion, and
fear. Achim Fergana's troops were alerted, and were trying bring
some sort of order, but with little success. There were men
running in all directions, shouting the most nonsensical things
about doom being upon us all; women shrieked in panic; and the
taverns and templesóman's two favorite sheltersówere packed,
despite the late hour. Obviously word of the horror in the palace
had spread through the city like oil across water, growing in
awfulness as the story traveled.
Some merchants were taking advantage of the disorder, and
their stalls or shops were open, and they stood outside, loudly
shouting the efficacy of their magical wares. Buy an amulet and
turn away the wrath to come. Let a seer cast a spell, and you will
be unharmed when the dread Tovieti come to ravage Sayana.
They were doing a brisk business.
Since everyone was busy with his own destiny, we went
unnoticed as we made our way back to the compound. I noted
the Time of Heat was almost over and the Time of Rains was to
begin as I heard thunder growling on the horizon. I smiled. Bad
weather would be a definite advantage when we went out next.
I ordered my soldiery to full alert, summoned all officers and
warrants, and advised them of what had happened. I did not tell
them exactly what my plans were, only that I wanted twenty
volunteers for a dangerous task, ready to march out in three
hours. I could have made up a band right then, but of course
could hardly have stripped my tiny command of its leaders. I
added that I wanted five of my men to be Kaiti, chosen from the
best of our native troops.
My plan was very simple: to ride hard for that cavern Tene-dos
had "seen" in his vision. Jask Irshad and the mannequins must
be somewhere nearby. I would strike at dawn as soon as we
reached the cavern, find the mannequins, and steal them back. If
we could not make our escape with them, if there was any free-
running water, I could render the sorcelled objects harmless by
casting them into itósomething I remembered our village witch
had told me.
My idea might sound absurdly simple, but I felt confident. Irshad
and Chamisso Fergana would assume that everyone in Sayana,
whether Kaiti or Numantian, would be paralyzed with fear and
indecision. If we struck secretly and ruthlessly, the gods might
favor the bold. Also, if we did nothing, there seemed no way to
keep the government of Kait from tumbling and a bloody holy war
against Numantia from beginning. I knew that we in Sayana would
be the first to die. Viewed coldly, it was a case of a certain death
in three days, or a possible one before that. The choice was
easy.
There was no time to spareóif my idea had the slightest chance,
it must be undertaken before anyone, either from Achim
Fergana's forces or from the rebels in the hills, could begin to
think about what might happen next. I must be away before
sunrise.
I was a bit surprised when Captain Mellet was the first to
volunteeróhe was hardly the sort I'd thought for a dashing raid. I
refused him, and he, a bit sourly, said, "I suppose yet again I'll be
keeping the home fires toasty. Well, don't let me stop you from
having a good time," and stamped away peevishly. From his
command we chose Legate Baner, an excep-
* tionally eager and boyish officer whom everyone, including
myself, felt like an older brother to; Sergeant Vien, a deceptively
fat man who moved like a snake; and six infantrymen, all of whom
swore they knew which end of a horse ate, and which shat. I was
taking foot soldiers as well as Lancers because I planned to
approach our target on foot in the final stages.
From my own troop I took nine, making Troop Guide Bikaner
senior warrant, and my choices included the always-glowering
Karjan; Curti, my best archer; and the stolid Sval-bard.
The five Kaiti were headed by Yonge, the sharpest of the hillmen,
and the most likely to be worthy of command. With Tenedos's
permission, I promoted him on the spot to sergeant, and planned
to commission him if we returned with our lives. To the demons
with the whines I'd get from our masters in Numantia about so
honoring one of the not-quite-equal Men of the Border States.
I took my men into one of the mansion's libraries, where
Tenedos had laid a spell guaranteeing there'd be no magical
eavesdropping, and told them how I wished them armed and
dressed. I watched closely as I spoke: Too often a man will
volunteer in the heat of the moment, but once he realizes how
hazardous the task, has qualms. If I'd seen the slightest tremor, I
would have found some pretext to drop that soldier from the
rollóthere were many volunteers eager to replace the hesitant
But all of the volunteers remained steadfast.
I went to my own quarters, followed by Karjan, to ready my own
gear. Pinned to the door was a note to please go to the
resident's quarters at once.
I should have known what I would see when I entered his rooms.
Instead of a well-dressed prosperous diplomat and magician, I
was greeted with a scruffy-looking sort in sandy robes, hood, and
sandals, who might well have been one of the Kaiti wizards who
opposed us at the battle of the ford. "I promised you wards
against any enemy being able to eavesdrop on your orders
session in the library," Tenedos said, a bit
smugly. "I said nothing about myself. A very interesting plan you
have, Damastes. It will be worthwhile to see how it develops. I,
by the way, borrowed these rags from one of our gate-menóbut
he will have no memory of the loan."
"Sir," I said. "You cannot go with us. I will not permit it!"
"You," Tenedos said, his voice suddenly frosty, "Legate a
Cimabue, may offer all the suggestions you wish, but you cannot
give me orders."
"Oh but I can, sir. I was ordered by my superiors, whose orders I
must follow exactly, to keep you from harm. Andó"
"And pahfiddle to that," Tenedos said. "I am going with you for
two very good reasons. First is that I am the only one who's been
to this cavern where the mannequins are most likely held. How
were you proposing to find it?"
"I planned to ask you to pinpoint the location on a map. I assume
your sorcery can relate actual locations to a topographic picture.
Sir." I was veering slightly toward insubordination.
"Perhaps, although you'll not know this time. Second is that you
are no magician, Legate, nor is any other Numantian besides
myself. We will be opposed by sorcery, in case you've forgotten.
The Tovieti use magic, as we discovered, and Jask Irshad is
hardly a novice seer."
"Sir. What happens if you're killed?"
"Then you flee to Urey, give the Rule of Ten the gladdening news
that will give them the excuse to mobilize the army, and probably
get promoted."
"Hardly," I said. "I'd best die beside you."
"How noble," Tenedos said, a bit of a smile touching his lips.
"Just as I'd expect from a dashing young subaltern of the
cavalry."
"Not noble, sir. They'll flay me alive if I came back without you,
and that's a very slow death." I was only half jesting. Certainly my
career, such as it was, would be completely finished. Not that I
was concerned about thatóI had sworn to protect this gods-
damned little magician, and he seemed determined to make me
disobey my oath at every turn.
X, "Be that as it may," Tenedos said, "I see you have no grounds
to argue, since you've already changed the subject."
It was trueólogic and sense were in his camp. When I first
thought out my plan as we rode back from Achim Fergana's
palace, I'd wondered just how I'd deal with Irshad's magic, and
vaguely thought I'd ask Tenedos for a protective spell or
something.
Since I'd learned well from my father not to argue with a superior
when his mind is set, and also never to belabor a cause that's
lost, I came to attention, clapped my fist against my chest, and
said, "Very well, sir. Please be ready to move out within the hour.
I'll have a horse and provisions ready. One other thingóyou are
now under my command, in all matters save the application of
magic. Is that understood?"
Now Tenedos's smile was very broad. "Yes, Legate a" Cimabue,
sir. I'll obey precisely, Legate a" Cimabue. Sir." I swear the man
was as excited as any recruit horseman who's about to see his
first action.
Less than an hour later, as villainous a crew as the mansion had
ever seen was gathered in the courtyard: twenty-two hill bandits,
raffish in their dirty robes, and dripping weapons. The robes,
hoods, and sandals were most authentic, perhaps a little too
much so, I thought, scratching at a Kaiti flea who'd decided
Numantian blood was palatable, and wrinkling my nose a bit at the
smell. Under the light-brown robes we wore loin-clothes and our
own chain mail shirts. On our heads were the hoods most Kaiti
travelers wore, and we had strapped boots on our feet. For
warmth, we wore heavy sheepskin jackets.
We'd rough-curried our horses to look a bit like the ragged
mounts of the Kaiti, although they were still too clean and well
groomed to stand a close examination. Each man had two
horses, not only for a reserve, but to carry the mannequins back,
if we gained our objective. Our provisions were in saddlebags
and we had sleeping robes rolled behind our saddles. All of my
Numantians had been given the Spell of Understanding earlier,
although they hardly had the accents of native Kaiti when they
spoke. Tenedos himself spoke like a native; he
must have either studied the language hard or, more likely, finely
honed the Understanding Spell to perfection. We also could use
Sergeant Yonge or one of the other Kaiti soldiers.
Our arms were Numantian, but we had no intention of passing
that close a scrutiny.
It was as well that Tenedos was accompanying us, since I'd
looked at the only map I could find of the region. Beyond the thin
track that led back into the hills, and some roughly sketched-in
villages, it told me nothing.
Tenedos had asked how I planned to slip out of the mansion,
since of course we were always watched. I said one at a time,
through one of the back gates, and he'd curled a lip and said,
coldly, that he could do "vastly" better than that. So he did.
I had ordered everyone indoors; my Numantians were keeping
close watch on the Kaiti soldiers and our household staff.
Captain Mellet had been ordered to keep the compound sealed
until our returnóor until circumstances proved that it was no
longer necessary, for good or evil. The pretext was the resident-
general's shock and horror over the events at the palace.
Rain spattered down and it was but three hours before dawn.
There was only one person in the street outside, and he was
huddled in a doorway a distance down from the gates. He kept
himself back in the shadows, as much to keep out of the chill
wind as to avoid discovery. The man was blowing in his hands,
trying to warm them, when Curti's arrow took him in the throat.
The spy's corpse sagged, and two soldiers dragged him back
into the compound. We'd dispose of the body later.
The more impressive part of the deception I could barely see
and hear. In the probable event that Achim Fergana's or Irshad's
jasks were keeping watch by sorcery, Tenedos had arranged a
more spectacular display for them. A wizard would have "seen" a
dozen men standing around flickering oil-fed fires, Kaiti who so
hated the Numantian presence that they watched us day and
night. I didn't see anything, although I thought I caught a dim
flicker of flames from the comer of my * eye, and heard a ghostly
shout of "M'rt te Ph 'reng!" That sor-cerous watcher would have
known no one could come out of the compound without attracting
attention and known we were all still within.
The spell cast, the twenty-two of us rode for the city gates.
There were still people abroad at this hour, but they were either
crazed with rumors, spice weed, drink, or intent on their own
goals, and had little interest in us. We held weapons ready under
our robes as we rode.
There was no problem leaving SayanaóAchim Fergana's guards
were more afraid of what lay outside trying to enter than the other
way around. The officer of the gate didn't bother coming out of
his gatehouse when he saw the party of hard-looking hillmen ride
up, but motioned to the two soldiers at the levers to open them.
We rode out, into the night, into the wilds of Kait, at a trot.
There was just enough light, despite the overcast and occasional
rain, to see the rough track we were following. I wasn't worried
about being ambushed; even thieves must sleep sometime, plus
very few bandits would risk hitting twenty-two armed opponents.
The dirt track was narrow, less a road than a pathóat no point
could more than three horses have ridden abreast.
Every hour we rested for a few minutes. I checked the horses the
infantry and Kaiti were riding carefully, but none of the mounts
were mishandled. At sunrise we stopped long enough to brew a
pot of the fragrant tea the Kaiti loved, and gnawed dried strips of
beef.
Four times that day we rode through tiny villages, each a handful
of mud huts around a small square. The Kaiti were ragged,
dirtyóand their eyes gleamed hatred for us rich men who actually
owned horses. But they saw our ready arms and grim faces and
behaved as if we did not exist.
Five times we encountered parties on the track. One was a
merchant's whose guards nearly panicked, sure we were about
to attack. They dove from their horses, frantically yanking out
weapons and buckling up armor. We paid them no mind
whatsoever. Three others were hard-faced men intent on their
own purpose, spears carried ready for the casting. They glared
at us, eyed our weapons calculatingly, and decided the prize was
not worth the game.
The last group we came on just before dusk.
We heard them before we came on themóthe wail of a baby
crying, and the murmur of hopelessness. There were perhaps
forty of them, no more than two or three young men, the rest
women, children, and four or five ancients. They were raggedly
dressed, and carried makeshift packs and bundles.
There was a wail of fear when they saw us, and then babbling
pleas for mercy and they scrabbled off the trail out of our way,
some prostrating themselves.
This was the other side of the golden banner of war: the poor
civilians caught in its midst, easy prey for all. I felt pity, and
wished we could help, but knew better.
"We mean no harm," I shouted, and the babble changed to
thanks and promises the gods would reward us. I noted, though,
that their faces showed disbelief as we rode slowly pastóthey
were waiting for us to show our true colors and the rapine to
begin.
The flock had two shepherdsóan old, dignified man, who must
have been a village elder, and a young girl, no more than
fourteen who, in spite of her dirty garments and face, was
astonishingly beautiful.
"We thank you, kind sirs," he said.
I found a few coins and tossed them to him. He bowed gratitude,
and we rode on.
About a mile farther, I found a safe shelter for the night. A tiny
village sat abandoned, about a hundred yards from the road, on a
small, rocky hill that made a perfect redoubt. The rain was about
to turn from showers into a full storm, and the huts, ramshackle
though they were, would at least let my men sleep dry. This
would be the last rest they would have before we made our raid,
and looked ideal.
We stabled our horses in one of the larger huts, and fed Jfi them
oats in nosebags. I made sure Lucan and Rabbit were taken care
of, then broke the party down into four teams, one for each of the
remaining huts, and we made ourselves as comfortable as
possible. The huts were very big, more byres, actually, and in
surprisingly good shape, and each of them had a fire pit dug in
the center. The former occupants had used these buildings as
barns and living quartersóthere were ricks and stalls at the end
of each of them. We used our horses' blankets to cover the
windows and doors. I ordered small fires built and, in the
gathering darkness, walked around the hilltop to make sure no
gleam of light could betray us.
I heard footsteps up the path from the road, and put my hand on
my sword. Out of the gloom came two figuresóthe old man and
the girl who headed the knot of fugitives we'd passed a short
time earlier.
Suddenly, beside me were Bikaner and Tenedos, their weapons
ready.
"Good evening," the ancient said. "Although I doubt it to be that.
We saw you turn aside, and thought we might, in the name of the
merciful Irisu and Jacini, ask a boon?" The girl stepped forward.
"We are the only survivors of the village of Obeh," she said. "All
our men were either killed or forced into the service of that dog
Chamisso Fergana, and our village was burnt, our few treasures
stolen, many of us outraged, and our livestock slaughtered for
sport.
"We were told only by Chamisso Fergana's mercy were we
allowed life, but this was a temporary gift, and we had best not
chance further indulgence but flee at once. "Now we have
nothing but the road, and fear. "We would ask one gift of you.
Could we travel with your party? I sense you are good men, men
of mercy, and we could be safe until we reached some
settlement."
"I am sorry," I said. "But we are sworn to a task, and must travel
fast and far."
The girl's face fell. "Could we at least take shelter here, with you,
for the night?" she said after a pause. "One night's
safety, one night's sound sleep, just for the babies, would be like
the breath of new life."
I started to say no once more, but stopped, thinking. I turned to
Seer Tenedos. He motioned me aside.
"I see you may be thinking what I am," he said. "These poor
people might well provide an excellent cover for us, for the night
If Irshad has magical guardians out, might they not think we are
no more than a group of villagers on the move, our men
appearing to be part of their band?"
That was exactly the thought in my mind. I nodded, and as I did, a
wave of warmth came. I'd felt badly enough having to ride past
these folk on the road with nothing more than a few coppers to
give them; one of a soldier's duties is to protect those who are
helpless.
Bikaner, too, was nodding. "Aye, sir," he said. "That's a rare idea.
I've not liked th' idea of those poor bastards wan-derin' the roads
with no man t'stand between them an' a reiver's pleasure."
And so it was decided. The young woman, who introduced
herself as Palikao, wept her thanks.
"You are most generous," the old man, whose name was Jajce,
said, "and you have given us two great gifts. Not only this night,
when all may sleep soundly, but also reminding us that not
everyone in this world is evil, and wishes nothing more but harm
to the helpless."
He shouted, and the refugees shambled out of the darkness. We
were not completely artless in our trustóI turned my men out,
and we patted each of the civilians for arms. Beyond a few small
knives for cutting up a meal, they were unarmed.
Just as no one can be more brutal than a soldier, the same man
can be the most generous of all mankind. So it was with my men.
They took charge of the poor wanderers, made sure each had a
bed of straw, patted the infants, and tried to get the children to
smile. But they'd seen too much horror, and the best jest or most
outrageously pulled face received no better audience than a
solemn look. Since we had more than enough food, we were
glad to share what we had.
* In my hut were Tenedos, Yonge, Karjan, and two others. We
had an equal number of the refugees, including Jajce and
Palikao.
The storm broke, and the rain roared, but in our huts it was
almost comfortable, if you ignored the fleas, the reek of ancient
manure, and the smell of bodies too long unwashedó none of
which concern themselves to an experienced campaigner.
We were not like turtles, tucked blindly into our shell; the men on
watch outside moved in pairs, never keeping the same route as
they patrolled around the tiny hill. I checked hourly, and was
pleased they remained very alert, although I was unsurprised.
We were too deep in enemy territory and there were too few of
us to relax.
Tenedos was on the other side of the low fire, listening to Jajce
talk about what had happened, trying to winnow through the old
man's memories for information that might aid us when we came
on Chamisso Fergana. I leaned back on my bedroll, listening idly.
Palikao sat not two feet away from me. I noted, to my
considerable surprise, that she smelled quite good, unlike the
rest of us unwashed heathens, and wondered what scent she
wore. She suddenly turned her attention away from Jajce.
"I cannot listen anymore," she said softly. "It hurts too much to
think of Obeh. All that is gone."
Her shoulders sagged, and I wished I could comfort her.
"I suppose for someone like you, it might not have appeared
much," she said. "But I was happy. I was betrothed, and my
husband-to-be and I had just begun our trial conjugality. Then,
one day, a week before Chamisso Fergana's savages came and
destroyed Obeh, he announced he had determined to become a
soldier, and, in spite of my tears, left me, promising he would
return in two months, with great wealth.
"I cared nothing for that. I just wanted him."
She looked directly at me, her gaze not shy.
"He should not have left," and her voice lowered, 'just when it was
so... wonderful."
My loins stirred.
"It is hard," she went on, "trying to sleep in the cold, in the wet."
Her hand stretched out, brushed mine, and her finger ran down
the wool facing of my bedroll. "Your sleeping robes look very
warm."
She smiled, and stretched, and somehow her robe became
slightly disarranged, and I saw smooth, bare leg, and a
momentary flash of darkness above her inner thigh.
Her flesh was clean, and on her ankle she wore a gold circlet.
Lust took me and shook me, and I almost could have taken her
then, but forced myself to be calm, to wait until the fires were
banked and we would settle down to sleep. Yonge and Karjan
were already snoring. Then would come pleasures such as I'd
never seen.
I looked at Tenedos, and saw his eyes start wide. I came back to
myself a little, and looked at what he was staring at.
Jajce's small pack sat between him and Tenedos. It had fallen on
its side, its flap open.
Coiled inside was a long silk cord, gleaming yellow in the dying
firelight.
Tovieti!
Shit! The spell broke, my cock shriveling as if it had never wanted
Palikao's false wet warmth, and the foolishness, brought on by
their magic, that had allowed us to permit strangers, no matter
how innocent looking, to come into our midst, was gone. I looked
at Palikao, to see if she'd sensed the change, but she was
staring dreamily at the fire. Her bare foot crept out and caressed
my booted ankle.
Hells! I wondered if they'd already struck in the other huts, and if
my men were now sprawled in death, my mission ruined before it
could even be launched. The spell we'd been ensnared in was
completeómy sword belt lay all the way across the hut, and
Tenedos's lay beside it.
The seer saw I'd noted the cord. I saw his brow furrow in thought,
then his hand slip to his side, and pick up one of the long leather
thongs used to bundle his sleeping robes. He then looked
pointedly at me: Do something!
* I suddenly sat bolt upright, coughing uncontrollably. Both Jajce
and Palikao pretended concern, and Damastes used my
diversion to reach across and, in a flash, touch the leather to the
silk strangling cord. His lips moved, and he ran the leather
through his fingers, coiling it to and fro.
My coughing spasm eased, and I reached for a canteen, to
continue the charade, when Palikao spoke, very calmly:
"They know who we are."
Her hand dove into her robe, and emerged with that deadly cord.
I threw myself on her, trying to pinion her hands, and it was as if I
was in the ring, wrestling the strongest opponent I'd known.
Palikao had greater strength than any man I'd ever fought,
including professional strong men at local fairs, and she easily
broke her wrists from my hold, down to my chest, and pushed,
and I went spinning away, through the firepit, embers flying, to
sprawl on the other side.
She was on her feet, cord in her hands, a look of savage glee on
her face, coming toward me, and now I heard shouts of surprise
and horror from the other huts. Jajce was standing, his own cord
ready, when Tenedos began to chant:
"Hear me Hear me You are one We are the same thread We
serve one master We have one master There is one master.
Hear me Turn, Turn Obey me Bind, bind Bind and hold You must
obey You must obey Bind, bind, Bind and hold."
The yellow cord in Palikao's hands writhed, came alive, as if it
were a snake, and twisted its way around her wrists, twisting,
turning, knotting, holding, and she struggled vainly, and then fell.
Jajce's own cord was tying him, and again I heard shouts from
outside, but these were from women and children as Tenedos's
magic turned their craft against them.
Palikao tried to get up, her strength now no more than it should
have been, but I was up and across the hut, reaching for my
blade, then it was out, and I had its point at her throat. "I've not
yet killed a woman," I said. "But there is a first for everything."
She stared up the long steel at me, saw truth in my eyes, and
ceased struggling. I wondered if she would have killed me
before or after we made the beast with two backs, but had no
time for rumination.
"Karjan!" and my Lancer was beside me, his own weapon out. I
looked about the hut. All of the Tovieti were safely bound by their
own cords. I darted out, into the night, and checked my men.
By the grace of Panoan and Isa, none of my men were injured.
They'd all fallen deeply asleep, and woke to chaos. Evidently the
deaths of Tenedos and myself were to mark the beginning of a
general slaughter. I told them what had happened, and who these
"innocents" actually were, and ordered them into full fighting
readiness. The team outside, on guard, had seen and heard
nothing until the shouting started. I put a second pair out to back
them up, and returned to Tenedos.
Karjan had pulled the Tovieti into a line along one wall. Their feet
were now tied with conventional rope. Their eyes blazed helpless
anger.
"Now what do we do?" I asked Tenedos.
"Kill the shit-heels, rip their gods-damned guts out slowly," Yonge
snapped, still shaking from the terror.
I waited. Tenedos thought carefully on the matter.
"No," he finally decided.
Palikao laughed mockingly.
* "Do not mistake me," the seer said. "I have no objection to your
death. Know that, woman." He stared at her, and she nodded
reluctantly. Tenedos took me aside.
"I think," he said, "no, I know for sure that my magic is sufficient
to bind them for at least two days. Also, I don't think any of them
are magicians themselves. What sorcery they used to fool us is
vested in those cords, or perhaps they have been given an
amulet to use. I didn't sense their spells because all my
awareness is reaching out toward that cavern, waiting for Irshad's
magics to search for us.
"I said we wouldn't kill them because we want our men ready for
battleónot shaking from having murdered babes and women, no
matter how bloody-handed they might be."
I agreed, and, quite frankly, was and am not sure I could have
given the orders for such a slaughter.
Tenedos turned his attention back to Jajce.
' propose to let you live, because the god I serve is stronger, as
is my magic.
"But I am new to this land. What is your god?"
"We serve no gods," Jajce said. "Gods, from the vanished Umar
to the lowliest piss-souled hearth godlet, are all part of the
Wheel, the Wheel we are going to shatter for a New Way."
"Break by killing all?"
"Break by killing all who do not join us," Jajce said flatly. "Kill
them, then when they return from the Wheel, kill them as babes in
arms, kill them in their wombs until the Wheel collapses from the
weight of all the souls it carries. My own group has killed over a
thousand, sometimes pretending to be woeful refugees,
sometimes occupying an abandoned village and telling travelers
we are its residents."
"All men, even gods, serve someone," Tenedos said. "Whom do
you obey?"
"Our leaders," Jajce said, looking uncomfortable.
"Thak," Palikao whispered.
"Silence, woman!" the old man snapped.
"Who is Thak?"
Palikao pressed her lips together, said nothing.
V,
"Thak, eh?" Tenedos said. "Is he human or otherwise?"
Once more, no reply, and I knew we would get none.
"One question you might answer," Tenedos said. "I understand
you are permitted to keep whatever you loot from your victims,
correct? And that if you kill enough, you Tovieti will live in the
palaces of the rich, and so on and so forth. Correct?"
Jajce nodded. "That is the truth."
"What laws will you live under in that golden time?"
"We shall need no laws," Jajce said firmly. "Just men behave
justly."
Tenedos lifted an eyebrow, bent, and picked up one of the
strangling cords.
"I see."
An hour later we rode off into the night.
"You s'pose," Bikaner said quietly, "they'll work their way out of th'
ropes 'fore they starve?"
"I would imagine," Tenedos said.
"More's th' sorrow," Karjan said. "They ne'er would've given us
mercy."
We rode on in silence.
Before dawn, we chanced leaving the road for a nest of rocks,
and chanced an hour's sleep, watch-on, watch-off.
At first light, we moved on once more.
It rained steadily all that day. The track was deserted.
The villages we passed were either ruined or shut tight against
the elements. We saw no man or woman all that drear day as the
road climbed into the hills.
Through the rain and the mist hanging like curtains, we dimly saw
a great mountain, black, wet, and evil.
"There," Seer Tenedos said, "there is the mountain I 'saw.' In it is
the Tovieti's cavern."
TEN The Cavern of Thak IT I he mountain, about three miles
away, looked like a I god-child had built it of sand, and then
haphazardly M. carved away with a spoon. The nearer side would
be the easiest to climb, although its slope was steep enough,
which meant it would be the most heavily guarded. I could see,
even through the rain, where a trail had been cut out. The trail led
about two-thirds of the way up, where the entire mountainside
had a nearly symmetrical scoop out of it.
"There," Tenedos pointed. "There is where we'll find the
entrance to the cavern."
The face farther from us was far more precipitous, almost a cliff.
I saw no sign of life, either on the mountain or the approaches.
Not far away from where we sat was a draw. We left the trail, and
rode up the narrow canyon about half a mile, until it widened into
a cleft. There was enough of an overhang to give some shelter.
I ordered the men to dismount, and assemble. From here, we'd
move on foot. For the first time, I explained exactly what our
mission was. I watched the men's faces closely. Even as tired,
dirty, cold, and wet as they were, I saw no signs of dis-
couragement or fear. My warrants and I had chosen our men
well. When I finished, I asked for questions.
"How'll we gie up t' th' mouth of th' cave?" one man asked.
"Creepin up th' trail?"
"No," I said. "We'll go up the cliff."
A couple of the men groaned.
"Remember," I said, realizing I sounded a bit like one of my
more pompous tactical instructors, "the easy way's always
ambushed."
Troop Guide Bikaner gave me a look of mild approval.
We assembled our gear into backpacks and, leaving four men to
watch the horses, started for the mountain. The land was
desolate, with never a tree to be seen, but only the stark brush. In
the dry season, it would have been desert, but now it was a
sandy, sticky mire.
It was dusk when we reached its baseóour timing was perfect I
looked for a dry place to rest, where we'd eat and wait until full
dark, but the entire world dripped dankly. We found some thick
bushes I imagined to be a bit less sodden than the rest and
crawled under.
I remember the meal I ate, wondering if it might be my last: dried
beef that had been shredded and mixed with berries and
rendered fat, which was extraordinarily nutritious, but as easy on
the stomach as digesting a rock; cold herbal tea we'd brewed
back in the village the night before; and soggy flat-bread dipped
into a fruit jam. I admit, though, I felt better afterward.
I decided it was dark enough, and we set out. I put the hill-men in
the fore of the column, since they'd have the best feel for the
terrain; then (he fat infantry sergeant Vien, myself, Tenedos, the
rest of the party, and the rear was brought up by Legate Baner
and Troop Guide Bikanerówith mis small a party, I must have
someone I had absolute confidence in for my rearguard.
We climbed for almost an hour, the grade growing steeper, but
still no worse than a hill-scramble. Then the way grew more
difficult, and I signaled a halt and ordered the men to
rope upówe'd brought twenty-five-foot-long ropes with us. They
were fineóno more than a quarter-inch in diameteró but had
been given a strengthening spell by Tenedos before we left
Sayana. We pulled off our sheepskin jackets and tied them to
our packs.
The way was wet and slippery, but fortunately the boulders were
small enough to move around, and those we had to climb over
were cracked and split, giving us sufficient handholds.
I tried to keep an idea of where we were in my heaa óthere was
nothing to be seen but darkness against darkness and the black
rock all around. The going grew worse, and we had to traverse
left again and again to find a passable route. We were being
forced closer and closer to the face with the trail, but there was
little I could do to change things. At least the rain had lessened,
which was a mixed favor. We could move more easily, but the
likelihood of us being seen or heard was greater.
Fingersnaps came down the line, and we froze. A whisper came:
"Officer up."
I untied and laboriously crept over five men, to the front of the
column. Sergeant Yonge was on point. When I reached him, I
didn't need any whisper to see what the problem was. I cursed
silently. Just above us was mortared stone. We had been moving
too far leftóthe road to the cave's entrance was just above us.
We'd have to go back and shift right to a new route. I decided to
slip up onto the trail, and see if I saw any sign of the Tovieti.
I was about to lever myself over the parapet when a noise came.
I don't know just how to describe it, but it was a low swishing, or
perhaps hissing. I ducked back, and became one of the stones
around me.
Something came up the path, something enormous. The sound
took about ten seconds to go past, then there was nothing but
the night and the rain. I forced myself to peer over the parapet,
saw nothing, and pulled myself up onto the parapet and over onto
the cobbled pathway. I slipped and almost fell, going to my
knees. The slickness was not from the rain, but from a horrible
slime that whatever had just passed left in its
trail. My stomach curled, and I decided there was no valor in
continuing this reconnaissance. Now I knew what that hissing had
suggestedóit was the sound my mind thought an enormous slug
might make as it moved past. I do not know in fact what it was,
though, nor do I wish to.
Laboriously we reversed our course, and went back to our right.
Eventually we found another way that seemed to go. The closer
we climbed to the cave's entrance, the harder it rained. At last
we'd climbed to the same level I thought the cavern to be on, and
once more we traversed left. Again we came on the mortared
stone, and I peered over it. The path came to an end here, on a
level, parapeted terrace, a balcony with the cave mouth behind it.
I saw no sign of guardians, human or otherwise. I ducked back,
out of sight.
We'd made good progressóit was still two hours before dawn, I
guessed. We would wait for at least an hour. Climbing had raised
a sweat, and we'd paid no attention to the wet and the chill. We
put our jackets back on, but clinging to the near-vertical rocks, the
cold seeped through into our bones within minutes, and I was
hard-pressed to keep my teeth from chattering.
Over the howling of the wind, I thought I could hear chanting, or
perhaps only shouts, from the cavern. I tried to forget about my
misery, and go through, again and again, just what Tenedos had
told me he'd "seen" in his brief seconds inside the cavern.
The sounds from the cavern stopped, and there was nothing but
the storm. I heard another sound: boot heels that I hoped were
human, clattering on the cobbles above us.
Sentries. There were two of them. Once again, we became
lumps of sandy stone. But there was little real danger. I doubted
the guards would bother peering over the edgeóthere was
nothing at all to see, and they must be near the end of their
watch. I'd never really entertained the hope that the entrance to
the cave would be wholly unguarded.
Very slowly, as slowly as anything I've known, the sky changed
from black to the darkest of grays. Now I heard more * footsteps
above, and the clatter of armor and weapons. Voices cameóa
challenge, a response, inaudible words, then some laughter and
the sound of the relieved watch marching away. It might have
been better to take care of the other sentries, knowing how cold
and tired they would be, and hence easy targets. But when their
relief showed, they would have cried the alarm. I listened for
another space, and was somewhat impressed. These sentries
did march their complete rounds, rather than huddle against the
weather. Nor were they talking and telling stories. I listened to
them pass, then return, counting the interval. I would rather have
done that half a dozen times, to ensure I had the exact time, but
the sky was growing lighter all the time.
I crept up to Sergeant Yonge, and motioned. Two fingers, two
fingersófingers stiffened whisked across my throat, fingers
pointing at the ground, then looping back in an arch. Yonge
nodded, and I saw the stumps of his teeth flash in the dimness.
He pointed to three other hillmen. They slid out of their packs and
gave them to other men. Knives came out of sheaths, and the
four moved up to just below the parapet.
The footsteps came back, passed, came back once more, and
four figures went over the wall. I heard the scuffle of booted feet,
the very beginnings of an outcry, then, over the hiss of the rain, a
falling gurgle.
I went over the parapet in a leap, Sergeant Vien behind me. The
two sentries were sprawled, their seeping blood being washed
away by the downpour. I saw in the growing light one of the
hillmen looking shamefaced, and knew he must haver been the
one who almost spoiled the killings. Sergeant Yonge would deal
with him harshly if we lived through the next hour. The rest of our
party came over the low rampart. "Yonge," I ordered. "That body
... throw him far out." Yonge frowned, not understanding why I
didn't wish to dump both corpses, but motioned to his men, and
one of the sentries was hurled into blackness. I listened, but
heard no sound of the body striking.
"The other, put facedown... there." I pointed to a rock
about fifty feet back down the rise, a rock it would take some
scrambling to reach.
Four men maneuvered the second corpse downhill, then
carefully positioned the corpse as I'd wanted.
It would be in plain sight to anyone who peered over the railing,
which was exactly what I wanted. Not even Troop Guide Bikaner
seemed to understand, so I briefly whispered why I'd arranged
matters as I had. If someone came out on the terrace, and saw it
unguarded, the first thing they would think was there'd been an
accident. They'd rush to the parapet, peer out, and see poor
dead Mathia, or whatever his name might have been, where he'd
fallen. They would shout for help, for men to climb down and see
if their comrade yet lived. That hue and cry would warn us that our
escape route had been blocked, and that it was time to find
another exit or plan. Or so I hoped.
Now I took the lead, Laish Tenedos just behind me. I put my best
men behind himóthey'd already been told their deaths were a
small matter compared to Laish Tenedos's and I knew they'd
obey.
Then we entered the cavern of the Tovieti.
The cave's mouth was V-shaped, and reached almost feet
above the floor. About fifty feet inside, it rounded, and became
an arch. Now we were out of the wind and rain, and a warm, soft
wind blew toward us. It was far warmer than the caves I'd
explored as a boy, and I wondered if this mountain had once
been a volcano, and if its heart still held fiery lava, or if the Tovieti
heated it sorcerously.
The light from the outside grew dimmer, our way now lit by
torches set in niches cut into the rock. The torches were burning
low, and I hoped mightily that all those inside were sleeping.
The tunnel's roof lowered sharply, until it was about ten feet
above us, and the passage narrowed, no more than thirty feet
wide in places. I saw some of the men look a bit worried, and
hoped the way grew no narrower; there is no way to keep from
giving in to certain terrors, and the fear of being closed in is one
of the strongest. But the passageway grew no small-
er, but twisted and turned between natural stone columns, like
mushroom stems, that stretched from floor to ceiling.
This cavern was not only excellent shelter, but eminently
defensibleóa tiny force could use those columns as cover to
fight behind, or mount sudden counterattacks from behind them.
The passageway increased in size and there were side
passages that led in different directions. But Tenedos's sense of
direction was sure, and he unhesitatingly waved us on, keeping
us in the main tunnel. There were also rooms opening off the
sides, and from some of them we heard the snores and shifts of
sleeping people.
The cave opened into a great room, its ceiling at least feet
above us. There were several levels in the walls of this chamber,
with openings like balconies of some enormous tenement, such
as I'd seen in Nicias.
Torches weren't needed here. Instead, mineral formations hung
from the roof and grew up from the floor. These growths were
translucent, and lights of many colors ran up and down inside
them, sending a constant color kaleidoscope shimmering across
the cave.
I thought for a moment this could be the great chamber Tenedos
had seen, but he shook his head and led us on, across the floor,
toward one of a myriad tunnels. He chose one, the widest and
tallest, and we followed.
This passage ran as straight as if it had been laid with a plumb for
about yards, and then the cavern opened once more.
This was a truly enormous room, its walls made of the most
wonderfully colored minerals. Again, there were landings and
balconies studded everywhere in the walls, and those startling
colors from nowhere provided the illumination.
This was the chamber Tenedos had "visited." I saw the throne in
the room's center, patterned closely after the one Achim Fergana
sat in Sayana, although it didn't look as gem-encrusted.
Behind it was the drum-shaped altar, and, to one side, high-piled
treasure the Tovieti had looted from their victims.
The room was full of sleeping people, the white-robed Tovieti,
sprawled everywhere. It looked as if their priests had stopped in
midceremony and cast a sleeping spell over their flock. I hoped
that was true, and that it would take another incantation to rouse
them.
Tenedos pointed toward the throne, and I saw, on either side of
it, rows of elaborately carved chests. I lifted an eyebrow, and he
noddedóhe sensed that in those was what we sought. So we
crept onward, weapons in hand, stepping over and around these
sleeping people. There must have been several hundred in the
room. Tenedos's lips were moving, and he touched his eyelids
several times. I guessed him to be casting a spell of sleep, or
perhaps increasing the power of the one the Tovieti masters had
already laid.
The chests were made of wood, and locked, and we used spear-
shafts and daggers to pry them open. The wood screeched, and
I shuddered, but none of the sleepers stirred.
The one I opened held all manner of marvelous things: I saw a
queen's diadem, a skull, a wand, a stone too large to be precious
else it would be worth a kingdom, and many more things. But no
mannequins. I tried another, and this one was equally full of
wonders, but again, none of the dolls we sought Fingers
snapped, and Svalbard was beckoning. I hurried to the chest he
stood over, Tenedos behind me, and there were some of the
dolls, stuffed unceremoniously inside. I waved my men over, and
we hastily began stuffing our packs full. Other chests were
opened, and we found more dolls.
I was beginning to hope we'd accomplish our task and escape
unseen when a shout echoed through the stone chamber. A half-
dressed man stood on a balcony halfway to the roof of the room,
crying a warning.
Curd's bowstring twanged, but the shot missed, clattering against
stone. Another arrow went after it, truer than the first, taking the
man in the stomach. He fell slowly forward, off the rocky ledge,
screaming as he pinwheeled down.
The screams woke the sleepers, and the befuddled ones
stumbled to their feet.
The last of the dolls went into packs, the packs were
shouldered, and we ran for the exit. There was as yet no
opposition, other than one or two of the white-clad Tovieti who
stumbled into our path and were knocked flying for their pains.
Then Jask Irshad appeared.
He stood on a balcony about thirty feet above the cave floor. He
saw us, and screamed in rage. As his shout rang through the
chamber, he grew, until he was nearly fifty feet tall, and stepped
easily from the balcony to the floor.
"Numantians! The False Seer Tenedos! Now you shall perish,
interlopers, Ph'reng! How dare you! How dare you!"
He picked up a pebble, and cast it at Tenedos. It grew into a
mighty boulder, coming directly at the seer. Tenedos spread his
hands, chanting, and the boulder was struck aside. It smashed
down into Tovieti, and red spurted across white robes.
Tenedos grabbed a spear from one of my soldiers, tapped it
against a nearby stalagmite. I could hear bits of his spell over the
din:
"... change... change now... Free yourselves Free...
Like a dart, like... Strike now Strike hard You are..."
He tossed the spear at Irshad gently, and as he did the
stalagmites around the jask snapped off and smashed through
the air at him, like hard-thrown javelins. Irshad was crying a coun-
terspell, shrinking to his normal size as he did, and a curtain of
colors rose around him, and the mineral spears shattered as they
struck it.
Irshad began a spell of his own, and other jasks ran into the
chamber, some with wands, some with relics, and their chanting
and cries added to the din.
K
While magic fought magic, I saw something I might do.
"Lancers," I cried. "Follow me.'" I charged forward, and my men
came out of their trance. Tovieti rose against us, and we cut our
way on, heading for Irshad and the other magicians.
Irshad's spell was building. I heard the roaring swell, the sound a
wind makes as it becomes a cyclone, growing louder and louder.
Tovieti guards, still buckling themselves into their armor, rushed
forward, blocking our attack on the wizards. At their head was a
banner with a device I could not make out, and beside the
standard-bearer charged a huge man I instantly recognized,
having spent enough time around his elder brother.
Chamisso Fergana was armed with exactly the weapon I'd
imagined Achim Fergana would prefer: a single-headed beaked
ax. He saw meóI suppose Jask Irshad's magic had told him who
I wasóand cried a challenge, one I was glad to meet.
Legate Baner dashed in front of me, shouting some sort of a war
cry. He cut wildly at Fergana, leaving himself open, and Fergana
ducked Baner's stroke, hooked Baner in the shoulder with the
ax's beak, and yanked the screaming boy toward him. As Baner
stumbled forward, Fergana jerked his ax free and sent it crashing
into the back of the legate's head.
Sergeant Vien was there, lunging, missing, and Fergana blocked
him hard with a hip and sent the foot soldier stumbling away, and
then there was nothing but the two of us.
Fergana held his ax ready in front of him, left hand just below the
axhead at shoulder height, right on the haft. He danced back and
forth, looking for an opening. I struck for his face, and his ax
flashed, almost taking me. I cursed myself for trying for an easy
strike, ducked as he cut at me, and struck for his leg, missing
again.
We went back on guard, moving, moving. I moved to his weak
side, and he turned as I did. I vaguely was aware of Kar-jan and
another Lancer guarding my flanks.
The ax came at me once more, and I jumped back, landing f, on
some gravel. I almost slipped and went down; Fergana shouted
victory and came in for the kill. I knelt, grabbed a handful of
gravel, and cast it full into his face, jumping aside as his ax came
down. Before he could recover, I struck, this time as I'd been
taught, not for the vital parts, but to cripple to make the killing
easyv My slash hit his ax handle about halfway up, slicing wood,
and then Fergana's fingers. His shout was a roar, and he
dropped his ax, but his unwounded hand reached for a long
dagger at his side.
But there was no time left for the rebel leader, and my full lunge
took him in the throat, the point of my sword coming out the back
of his neck. As he went down I pulled my sword free, recovered,
saw Sergeant Vien belabored, and killed his opponent. Then I
faced the enemy standard-bearer, trying to defend himself with a
short sword. I parried once, again, cut his legs from under him,
and gave him the deathstroke as he fell. Chamisso Fergana's
banner fell, landing a few feet from its dead lord. Troop Guide
Bikaner had the standard then, waving it triumphantly in victory.
Over the battle din, I heard the keen as Jask Irshad saw his lord's
death, and his concentration broke and the wind-song died.
Then, over all, the Seer Tenedos's voice boomed:
"I have you I have you Your force is mine. Your strength is mine."
Tenedos stood with his arms stretched out, his fingers closing
into fists, as if he were squeezing something invisible. Tenedos's
voice came again:
"Your blood Courses through my hands. I hold your heart You are
mine
You are mine. Take your death. Take the gift. Take your death."
Jask Irshad screeched in agony, clutched at his chest, then fell.
He writhed briefly, then lay still.
The Tovieti screamed with him, both their leaders down in death,
screamed in panic and desperate need, and louder than the fear
came their chant: "Thak! Thak! Thak!"
From somewhere their overlord heard them.
Thak appeared, atop the drumlike altar.
I do not know what strange world Thak came from, nor, really,
what he was. Perhaps he came from deep inside our own world,
in awful caverns where metal flowed like water and all life was like
him. I suppose he was some sort of demon, but one whose form
was not flesh nor blood. He was about sixty feet tall, roughly
manlike in shape, but crudely formed, his limbs of equal
proportion, his cylindrical head sitting squarely atop his torso.
Faceted like a jewel, his body sent out blinding shards of light.
The screams from the Tovieti became louder, and I knew they
feared their god or demon as much as they worshiped him.
Thak saw us, although there were no eyes or other features to his
head, and stepped down from the altar toward us. His joints
screeched like ungreased metal as he came, and his thick,
stubby fingers reached for us.
As he came, a high-shrill ringing began, a ringing that drove
against my eardrums like invisible nails.
Tenedos was digging in his pouch, and he brought out a large,
clear gem, cut like a cylinder with the facets coming to sharp
points at either end.
I couldn't hear his spell over the whine, but he cast the gem out,
and it landed on one end about twenty feet away. Thak was no
more than thirty feet beyond. The gem began spinning, as if
Tenedos had whipped a top into motion.
* As it spun, it, too, sent flashes of light striking into all corners of
the cave, and a low hum started, a hum that quickly rivaled the
whine in volume.
"Come on," Tenedos shouted. "I don't know how long that will
hold him."
Two men started to run, and both Bikaner's and Vien's bellows
caught and held them, and their discipline came back.
At the trot, we went out of the cavern, withdrawing in good order,
not retreating. Later I'd have time to marvel at how a handful of
men had been able to strike and paralyze many times their
number, with no more than boldness, surprise, and some sorcery
to aid themóa device I was able to use time and again in the
service of Emperor Tenedos.
One or two of the Tovieti, dazed by all that had happened in the
last few minutes, tried to stop us, but were easy to knock aside or
slayóthey offered no real resistance.
I chanced one final look at the chamber's exit, and saw Thak
gather himself and stumble forward, like a man driving into a hard
wind, step by step toward Tenedos's gem.
I realized I was the last Numantian in the chamber and hurried on
to catch up to my men.
It was a gray, dismal morning, and I delighted in it. We lost three
in that cave, counting Legate Baner. Four others were wounded,
but were being supported along by their fellows.
In battle order, we went down that trail, now having no reason for
concealment, and there were none to oppose us.
Within an hour, we'd regained our horses, lashed the packs with
the precious mannequins to our saddles, ridden out of the draw
to the track.
Tenedos stared back, up at the mountain and the cavern
entrance. The rain had died, and there was no wind. I could hear
nothing from the cavern's mouth, neither screech nor hum.
"Did you kill himr I asked.
"I don't know. I was certainly lucky, providing a spell and talisman
where like could strike like, although I had no idea what we would
face when we entered the cavern," Tenedos
said. "Perhaps I hurt him sore. Perhaps I sent him back to where
he came from." Tenedos's voice was most unsure. "Or perhaps
not." He gathered himself.
"Come. We have what we came for."
We rode hard for Sayana.
ELEVEN The Achim's Betrayal We were heroes at Achim
Fergana's court. Not only had we saved the lives of the courtiers
and the achim himself from some terrible rending, but we'd killed
the traitorous Jask Irshad and the rebel's most evil brother,
Chamisso Fergana.
As for the demon Thak, Achim Fergana was unconcerned. With
no one to guide him, even if that powerful spell the ever-brave
and never-sufficiently-praised resident-general and Most
Powerful Seer Laish Tenedos cast hadn't, Thak must now be
impotent and would soon return to his own dark realms. Similarly,
the dreaded Tovieti, without any leaders, would fragment and
disappear as if they'd never been.
Achim Fergana, sure mat his rule was secure and his family
would hold the throne forever, promised us anything, anything we
wished, especially since we had returned his dolls. I'd quietly
drawn Tenedos aside and wondered if this was wise. He'd
shrugged and said that firstly, he doubted if any of the Kaiti would
be able to use them without Jask Irshad's magic, and second
and more importantly, it did not matter to Numantia how the ruler
of Kait held his throne, so long as the Men of the Hills killed within
their own borders.
* As for Achim Fergana's rewards, unfortunately there was little
the kingdom of Kait had that we wanted. Gold would have been
more than acceptable, for neither Tenedos nor myself nor any of
us was wealthy. But this was against the rules of the kingdom,
Achim Fergana explained, most regretfully. Besides, the treasury
was in a deplorable state, and all hard currencies were
desperately needed for the benefit of the people. But anything
else...
Tenedos attempted, once, to tell Achim Fergana that mere
ratification of the pact he'd been sent into the Border States to
present would be the greatest reward of all, for Kait, Numan-tia,
and Urey. Achim Fergana smiled blandly and said he had the
matter well under advisement. Even someone as artless as I
knew what that portended.
No one, not Tenedos, not me, not any officer or ranker, could
come up with an idea for an individual reward. Each of us could
have had an estate in the country, and been murdered the instant
we rode out of Sayana's gates to visit it.
Titles were meaningless.
Foodóthe Kaiti diet wasn't exactly prized by my men.
The Achim Fergana offered women or young boys, as many as
each man wanted. Some of my men were licking their chops
most lasciviously, planning orgies of a prehistoric nature. Here I
had to step in firmly: If a woman wished to enter the compound
by day, of her own free will, and she would be asked by me, and
the man involved was off duty, what they chose to do was their
business. However, the security of the compound was too
important to allow strangers to pass the night. Army laws
fortunately forbade enlisted men keeping slaves, so that kept
another door closed.
I knew that few Kaiti women would wish to involve themselves
with the hated Ph'reng beyond whores or our staff spies, who of
course were under orders to be accommodating, especially if
they would be forced out into the streets of Sayana at nightfall.
We were left, then, with the undying gratitude of Achim Baber
Fergana, a gift that would live, as Resident-General Tenedos
cynically but correctly said, for at least a full week beyond its
presentation.
There were some rewardsóall the men who rode with me were
mentioned in my dispatch back to Domina Herstal and the
Lancers, and Captain Mellet did the same for his men. Some we
could promote: Legate Baner would be posthumously raised to
captain of the Lower Half, which might provide some consolation
to his family. As I'd vowed, with Laish Tenedos's full approval,
Sergeant Yonge was commissioned legate, as were other
hillmen.
As for my own men, I could hardly promote Bikaner to regimental
guide, since there was but one such rank in the entire regiment of
Lancers and that held by Evatt, back in Mehul. Lance Karjan
refused my offer of promotion, saying, "Havin' rank-slashes
means givin' up y'r friends an' soul both, an' hardly's worth the
few coins extra." Curti was too ashamed of his having missed his
first shot in the cavern to countenance reward. At least Svalbard
allowed himself to be raised to lance, and grunted, I think in
thanks.
Resident Tenedos insisted on writing a dispatch to Domina
Herstal that was so commendatory I nearly blushed. I wondered
if it would change what Captain Lanett thought, but doubted it.
People of his nature never change their minds once someone's
played into that fatal flaw of theirs.
There was other praising to be done, and this Tenedos handled
most skillfully, although it left a sour taste in my mouth.
He waited less than a day after our return to begin rolling out a
ream of letters and dispatches. The first was the necessary
report to the Rule of Ten.
He let me read it before sealing the packet. I was polite, and
voiced none of my criticisms. It was accurate, but it sounded as if
we'd taken a gigantic step to bringing peace to the Border States
and bringing Kait firmly under Numantian influence. I noted,
however, that the dispatch left several options open, constantly
saying if certain obvious measures were continued by Achim
Fergana and the present government, assuming Achim Fergana
provided proper justice now that inroads had
been made against the Tovieti and the constant feuding within
the country, these thoughts being mere conjectures dependent
on the current situation continuing undisturbed for at least half a
year, and so forth.
But Tenedos's use of such slippery words was not the worst.
Before he sent the official dispatches off in the hands of a
twenty-man patrol to make sure they reached Urey safely,
Tenedos produced a second round of correspondence. Some
of these missives were private, intended for Tenedos's friends
and mentors, including those two men in the Rule of Ten he
counted as his allies. Those, of course, he did not allow me to
read.
Other writings were intended for various of Nicias's broadsheets.
I read part of one, which was filled with references to the
"heroism" of the "stalwart young officer of the famed Ure-yan
Lancers Legate k Cimabue," the "dauntless bravery" of the
Numantian soldiery against "overwhelming charges" by the evil
tribesmen, and so on. Legate Baner was cut down after killing at
least a dozen of the rebels, and died in Tenedos's arms, with his
last words being "Promise me, Seer, that the deaths we die this
day shall not be in vain, and one day Numantia will recover its
past glory and more."
I felt a trifle ill.
Tenedos saw my expression and guessed my thoughts. He
smiled, a bit grimly. "You are thinking, What shitóam I not
correct, Damastes?"
I grunted noncommittally.
"But what is a lie? Wouldn't Baner, for instance, have killed that
many Tovieti if he'd lived?"
"Perhaps. But you make no mention of the Tovieti, either."
"That, young fellow my lad, is because I know the Rule of Ten
would have my hide nailed to the city wall if I mentioned such
closely held information. Let me continue. As for Baner's last
words, well, I admit to putting some words in his mouth. But can
you guarantee he didn't believe that?"
"I never heard him say anything about politics."
"Then who can tell? Besides, there is a greater truth here,"
* Tenedos went on. "You remember when I spoke to your man,
back at the ford? I promised them great times, great deeds, and
great prizes.
"Very well. The men who fell, and were returned to the Wheel,
can yet serve. Baner is one and gives an example to other young
Numantians.
"Should I have told the truth about Legate Baner's death? That
he was killed foolishly attacking a man who had twice his skills at
fighting? That he dove in front of his superior, no doubt hoping to
win the great glory of killing Chamisso Fergana himself? Shall I
say mat his death did nothing to bring peace to this benighted
country, since it will continue to be as it is, as it always has been,
unless every gods-damned Kaiti is slain and the land repopulated
with sane folk? Shall I say that these Border States matter little to
Numantia, that most Numantians cannot find mem on a map and
care nothing of what happens on their frontiers?
"Do you think that would please the legate's family, if family he
had? Do you think that would serve Numantia?"
Tenedos, warming to his subject, was becoming slightly angry. I
did not answer his question, but professed ignorance about such
abstruse matters.
Instantly Tenedos became charming again.
"Damastes, my friend. You concentrate on what you are very
good at, soldiering and doing what you can with very little to work
with. I promise, one day, you too shall be rewarded and given a
chance to do truly great things that shall make your name ring
down the annals of time.
"Let me worry about the politics and the chicanery. But think of
one thing: After these accounts I'm writing reach the
broadsheets, what chance do you think the Rule of Ten will have
of casting me back into oblivion?
"All I'll have to do... all we'll have to do, is survive this assignment
and our names shall be forever known in Numantia. And what can
be the matter with that?"
I was still uncomfortable, made my excuses, and left. Over the
next few days the matter gnawedóI'd seen officers who
made sure their every favorable action was noted by their
superiors, and my father had told me, scathingly, of others. I had
nothing but contempt for them.
But on the other hand Laish Tenedos was not a soldier, and
fought in an entirely different arena, one I knew little of and
wanted to know less. Was I right in disparaging him? Especially
since what he'd accomplished in the cavern had kept the peace
in Kait, had kept Achim Fergana, Numantia's ally, no matter how
untrustworthy, on the throne, had kept the Kaiti from exploding
north into Urey and Numantia with thirsty swords, at least for the
moment.
Finally, he was my superior, and I had little right to question his
decisions or policies.
Fortunately, there were other, far more important concerns, and I
set the matter aside.
One matter appeared minor, but curious: The Kallian, Landgrave
Elias Malebranche, had vanished, disappearing from the palace
he'd been assigned on the morning of the day we returned, just
about the time we'd escaped Thak in the cavern. The
coincidence seemed quite remarkable to me, and seemed not at
all a coincidence to Resident-General Tenedos, but all questions
about him at court were shrugged away.
Our biggest worry was the Tovieti. They did not disappear, as
Achim Fergana had blithely promised. Instead, the movement
grew and grew. No longer was their name forbidden; instead, it
could be heard almost everywhere. They may have been
leaderless, but their ideas had not changed: destroy the rulers,
destroy the landed. Take what you want. Until the old order is
destroyed, there will never be peace, never be riches for any but
the overlords. And, of course, M'rt te Ph'reng!
I saw this painted on many walls, and no Kaiti ever seemed to
paint over the slogan. There was also a new wall-paintingó a
rough circle, sometimes painted in red, intended to represent the
blood of the slain Chamisso Fergana, the martyred Jask Irshad,
and the others we'd killed in the cavern, and, rising from it, a nest
of hissing serpents, fangs bared. It could be
painted most elaborately, or merely scrawled as a circle with
arcing lines coming up from it, depending on how much time
and ability the artist had.
There was a Tovieti motto: "From one body, many fighters. From
many fighters, one will. Death to the outlanders! War against their
kingdoms!"
Now mobs always surrounded the Residency, in spite of it being
the height of the Time of Rains. At any hour, there'd be outbursts
of chanting, singing, always promising death to the evil
foreigners, the Chishti who were determined to destroy the fair
kingdom of Kait.
When we rode out, we had to wear canvas cloaks, to keep the
offal from staining our uniforms. Our Kaiti staff were shouted at
and pushed around, and we were forced to escort those who did
not live at the compound to and from their homes. Finally, we had
to dismiss them entirely.
I called our Kaiti troops together, and offered them the chance to
leave our employ. I was pleased, and a bit surprised, that only
half, about fifty, took my offer. The ones that remained, including
Legate Yonge, were among the best.
Then the first Numantian was killed. His name was Jeuan Ingres,
and he was five years old.
His father was a traveling Numantian silversmith, his mother Kaiti.
He'd been playing kickball with his four brothers and a wild shot
had sent the ball over a wall, into a neighbor's tomato garden.
He'd gone after it. Suddenly three men had darted out of
nowhere, a yellow silk cord yanked around his neck, and with a
sharp pull the boy's windpipe was crushed. Before his brothers
could cry out, the three men vanished.
The Kaiti wardens said they were unable to find any clues, and
none of their agents heard anything about the deed.
Resident-General Tenedos protested the atrocity to Achim
Fergana.
The ruler put on a most distressed face, and went on about how
horrible it was for such a deed to have occurred, and how
shamed he was, although he certainly understood how some
people, remembering the traditional evils Numantia had
wreaked on hapless Kait, could be so blinded by their rage that
they took a mere babe for an enemy.
"What evils are you referring to, Your Majesty?" Tenedos
inquired icily.
"Those that are known to us all, and hardly worth going into at this
time, although they are of great shame."
"Since I speak for the Rule of Ten, for Numantia, I must insist on
specifics. I understand our countries to be at peace."
"We are," Achim Fergana said. "Of course we are. But that does
not alter the truth of what I said."
Tenedos stared at him coldly, then bowed, and we withdrew. Our
time as heroes was clearly past. Now we were back to
normalóPh 'reng scum.
When we reached the compound, he hurriedly wrote up a
summary of recent events, and ordered me to send it at all
possible speed north to Urey.
"I'd suggest you send more than one rider, Damastes. Send
someone clever. I doubt they'd risk killing an official
representative of Numantia, but still..." Tenedos looked worried.
I said I wouldóand requested he prepare a second letter, this
one to the army leaders in Urey, asking for reinforcements for the
Residency.
"You feel things have gotten that much worse?"
"I would feel a lot more comfortable, Resident, if we had at least
two more companies of infantry and a column of heavy cavalry.
The lines between us and Urey are very long and thin."
"I'll do that, and I'll use my most cunning phrases. I'll have it
ready by the time you detail the men."
I chose Lance-Major Wace, and four of my better lances. I
ordered them to move quickly but carefully, and to trust no one
between here and Urey, especially not in Sulem Pass. I would
have sent a larger party, but with the situation aboil I couldn't
spare the men.
"Thankin' th' legate for his advice," Wace said, "but I know
better'n even dreamin' such a thing. No, sir. We'll move at th'
gallop an' with all our senses at th' raw."
X, I further ordered him not to return through the pass without
reinforcements; I was sure that they could pass through once
safely, having surprise with them, but most likely all the hill
bandits would be preparing for their return. He growled, said he
little liked leaving Three Column in such a fix, but it'd be as the
legate ordered. They rode off within the hour.
That evening, Tenedos called me to his study. Once more
sorcerous material was spread around the room.
"Since you performed so well before, I'm asking for your
assistance again as my acolyte, Damastes. This time, though,
there's considerable less risk. I propose to go looking for our
demoniac friend Thak, and see if he still exists on this plane."
There was a large, circular brass tray with a raised lip worked with
elaborate symbols on the table in the center of his study.
Tenedos lit three candles, and put them equidistant around the
tray. He motioned twice over a small brazier on a stand, and
incense fumed up. He said a few words in another language,
then uncorked a metal flask.
"This particular bit of thaumaturgy depends less on material than
on training," he explained. He poured a thin layer of mercury into
the tray, until I stared down at a dully reflecting mirror.
"You are welcome to observe, if you wish," Tenedos said. "This
particular device is most handy in that regardóa novice or
nonsorcerer will see as much as the magician. Of course, if the
sorcerer happens to be having a bad day, or is a hoaxster, this
could be a definite disadvantage.
"There is no risk save being revealed, and we needn't worry
about that."
He moved his hands, palms down, fingertips curled, back and
forth over the tray. The dullness faded, the mirror was crystal
sharp, and then I was looking down at rugged land, as if I were a
high-flying bird, except at a height I doubt any bird, even an
eagle, could reach. It took me a moment to realize that I was
staring down at the city of Sayana, and its outskirts. It was mostly
quite clear, although there were places where it was blurred, as if
small clouds were between us and the city.
"The indistinct places," Tenedos explained, "are sorcerous-ly
blockedófor instance"óand he pointed to one spotó"here is
Achim Fergana's palace, and his^orfe have cast counterspells to
prevent interlopers such as myself from spying on him.
"This is one of the greatest advantages this spell givesóit can
unerringly show the watcher where a magician is working his
craft. But since magic is always double-edged, it also can show
the watcher's location as well.
"Now, we shall take a look at the area of interest. I could move
oar perspective area by area like so___" and his hands shifted,
and the view swooped dizzyingly, and Sayana shifted to one side
of the picture, and we were looking at a road that led to Sulem
Pass. "But there's an easier way to get there. Here's a bit of a
mineral I pocketed when we were in the cavern." He tossed it into
the brazier, and the mercury pool swirled. "When it clears, we
should be looking down at our mountain, and can move inside."
'Tf a wizard can see us looking for him," I said, a bit concerned,
"couldn't a demon like Thak?"
"Possiblyóbut it matters not, because there's nothing he could
do, save block our vision."
The bowl swirled once more, then its edges cleared, and I saw
rugged, mountainous terrain. But the center was a gray blur just
as I'd seen over Fergana's palace, except covering a far greater
area.
"Mmm," Tenedos said wryly. "The Tovieti jasks have their wards
up. Let us see if we cannot move closer, and go through it" He
pushed his hands down, and the grayness filled the plate as our
perspective came closer to the mountain.
The gray darkened to black, except here and there were light
streaks. "Very good," Tenedos said. "We're now cutting straight
down through the mountain. The brightness you see is crevasses
that carry light from the outside. Very good indeed."
Then the mercury roiled sharply, and began whirling, like a
maelstrom. Tenedos looked alarmed, but before he could
explain what was happening the vision cleared, and we were
looking at Thak!
* I do not know where he wasóthere was nothing but the crystal
demon in the tray. Thak's head creaked bac£ and he "looked" up
at us. The mercury spun faster, and now there was a funnel, and
we were about to be sucked down into it Thak's arms came up,
and his hands reached for us, coming up, closer and closer, and
I felt the cold horror of death.
Somehow my muscles obeyed, and I kicked hard, against the
table's bottom, and the shock sent the tray spinning, globules of
mercury flying across the room. The brazier flamed, and then
went out, and that Presence was gone.
I turned to Tenedos. He took a long moment to recover, then
made a wry face.
"Well," he said finally, "that spell used to be considered quite
safe." He went to a sideboard and poured brandies.
"So Thak not only is alive and well, but knows us," he said.
"These are not circumstances that send a thrill of joy through me,
I must say."
"Do you have spells against him?" "Unfortunately, no, at least not
a spell powerful enough so I could take the offensive. Perhaps if
I knew his intent, why he's chosen to enter this plane, assuming
he's not a native, I could devise something. But as yet our best
defense is to stay out of his way. If we're attacked, I have
weapons, but don't know if they're effective enough to destroy
him."
"Why," I wondered, "would a demon have come up with the ideas
he seems to have taught the Tovieti?"
"I doubt he did. Creatures of another plane generally aren't that
familiar with what makes men do what they do. I'd guess some
time ago he was invoked by a man who preached the gospel the
Tovieti are trying to put into practice, and Thak absorbed enough
so he can broadcast it without really knowing what it means, other
than it brings him worshipers."
"What might have happened to the sorcerer who called him up?"
I asked.
"It's not unknown," Tenedos said dryly, "for a seer's magic to
overwhelm him. Regardless, Thak now appears to be his own
master, fulfilling his own desires."
"Is Thak aspiring to become a god?" I wondered. "I mean,
someone who has temples and priests, and control over some
part of this world?"
"Now we're getting into matters I don't understand," Tene-dos
said. "Were gods once demons? I don't know. It would make a
certain amount of sense, since we know a minor god can
sometimes be revealed as an aspect of Irisu or Saionji herself
and is given even greater veneration. Are there really gods at all?
I don't even know that, although if there are demons and lesser
spirits surely there must be greater ones, and there must have
been a single spirit at one timeócall him Umar if you willówith
power enough to create this universe. Or perhaps it just came
about. Perhaps there is another Wheel beyond the one we return
to that controls all. I become dizzy and want to take a cold bath
when I think of such matters.
"As for Thak, I think those we call demons thrive on disorder.
Their own planes must be always changing, chaotic. Perhaps
they resent any attempts we tiny creatures called men do to bring
the world we see into some sort of system. Again, I don't know.
Those small spirits I've summoned from time to time to help me
certainly resent being required to perform a constructive task,
and take positive glee in doing harm.
"I wish I had the leisure to study the matter. Thak is quite a
fascinating manifestation. But I fear this is not the place for calm
contemplation. Nor do we have the time to develop theories that
would gladden the hearts of academicians, unless we plan on
them being our final monument.
"For us, it's enough that Thak is our enemy, and the enemy of all
that we believe in. As he is, so are the Tovieti." The next morning
the Residency was attacked.
It was a cold, gray morning. The sky threatened rain, but as yet
none had materialized.
The mob filled the streets around the Residency. There were at
least a thousand Kaiti, shouting, jeering, screaming rage. They
were throwing thingsóstones, filth, masonry, and * such. As yet,
no real weapons had been used, but it was only a matter of time
before things grew worse.
They were all men, of course, from boys to doddering gray-
beards. The men of Kait would never allow women the
sweetness of being able to vent some rage in public. In view of
what was to come, I was, for once, grateful for this piece of Kaiti
chauvinism.
I had my men at full alert. I'd had eight platforms built earlier, in
secrecy, and now had them moved to the positions I'd planned,
two along each wall of the estate. They were three feet lower
than the wall, so the outer wall now became a protective rampart.
Our weakest point was the main gate, which was no more than
heavy iron bars. Not only could it be seen through, but we had no
way of solidly reinforcing it.
I briefed my soldiers on what they were to do. It took only a few
moments, since the very first drill we'd learned was to repel an
attack on the compound.
While the mob roared, building its rage, my soldiers and
Tenedos's staff stacked heavy furniture as barricades, and
overturned freight wagons in front of the main gate to serve as a
bastion. They filled bags of dirt from the garden and used them
for reinforcing bulwarks.
Resident Tenedos was a pillar, here, there, and everywhere,
helping men shift unwieldy objects, giving men encouragement,
even holding bags open for a shoveler to fill.
I took him aside, and asked if he "saw" any magic behind this.
"No. I sense nothing but a sort of black foreboding aimed at us. If
it is a spell, it is such a general one, and so large, it is hardly
worth concerning ourselves about compared to some idiot out
there in the street who's planning to hurl a cobblestone at our
skulls."
That worried me, because I'd gone to the roof of the main
building and tried to pick out leaders of the mob. If the situation
worsened, I wanted to have archers pick them off. The way to
destroy a mob is always to cut off its head. But I spot-
ted no chieftains, so I wasn't sure at what point to attack the
snake; rather, the mob seemed to be more like one of those
enormous poison-worms of the swamps that must be cut into
fragments before each part ceases thrashing.
Of course there were no signs of the wardens, nor of Achim
Fergana's soldiers.
"He won't help the mob," Tenedos theorized. "He's not quite
convinced it's time to back the Tovieti completely. But he'll do
nothing if they take the Residency, either. Probably he'd use that
as an excuse to send his army against them, although I think he'd
be most astonished to find out that his soldiers are now about
half-converted to Thak's persuasions.
"I suppose we just wait for further developments." They weren't
long in coming.
It began with a shower of spears over the wall. They clattered
against the cobbles harmlessly, but a few moments after that,
arrows arced over, one of them wounding one of the KLI foot
soldiers.
Then came shouts, and they charged the gate. They slammed
into it with their shoulders, trying to smash it in. They could have
tried that tactic for the remainder of their lives without
accomplishing anything. Planks appeared, and they tried to lever
the crossbar up.
I shouted for them to disperse but no one paid any attentionóI
doubt if I was even heard over their chanting. I ordered my
archers on line, and to fire directly through the bars. The first
volley was blunts, flat-headed arrows used for killing birds. That
produced yelps of pain, and a few men staggered away, bruised.
But mere were ten to take the place of one.
The next shots were war arrows, and the crowd fell back,
screaming pain and rage.
I ran to one of the platforms, climbed it, and peered out Far
down the street I saw a cluster of men. They were carrying a
long wooden pole, about a man's shoulders in diameter,
intending to use it as a battering ram.
That was quite enough.
I'd asked Tenedos to hold a spell in readiness, and motioned to
him to begin casting it. It was a fairly standard confusion
conjuration, intended to produce no more than nameless fear
and distraction. Soldiers were routinely trained to expect this
when battle began, and to ignore the feeling and obey the
orders of their warrants and officers. I'd thought it might be
effective against untrained men like those shouting around the
gates, and so, by the confusion of shouting and terror, it was.
I put the next stage into motion. Since there seemed to be no
leaders to cut down, I thought I'd give the throng a handy exit. So
I ordered my archers to send a high volley far down the main
street, just as, in time of battle, they'd launch arrows over the
front ranks, hoping to strike deep into the enemy's leadership in
the rear.
Five volleys went out, carefully aimed, and now came howls of
pain. Again, I peered over the wall, and was nearly brained by a
rock from a sling. But I'd spotted bodies in the street. Now the
rear of the mob was suddenly the most dangerous place, and
those heroes who contributed only pushing and shouts found it
better to go elsewhere. Now the mob had a way out, which they'd
need shortly.
"Assemble!" I cried.
Men slid down from the towers and ran to where they'd been
instructed to form up. Our flanks and rear were left
defenselessóI intended to strike for the enemy's heart.
With a clatter of hooves, my lances rode in from the parade area,
where I'd had the horses saddled and ready. Each lance held the
reins of two other horses belonging to the cavalrymen who'd
been posted on the platforms.
"Mount up," I shouted, then, "Open the gates!"
Four men lifted away the crossbar. One was struck by a missile
and fell, his body thudding limply like a grain sack. Those of my
cavalrymen not armed with the bow stepped into their saddles.
"Archers!" The bowmen doubled through the gates as they
swung open, nocking arrows. Their warrants shouted, "Any
target... fire!" and razor-edged war shafts hummed out, some
fired no more than fifteen feet into their targets.
"Archers ... mount!" and the cavalrymen ran back.
"Captain Mellet!"
The captain's voice boomed, "The Khurram Light Infantry will
advance!"
The KLI went forward in five even ranks, javelins ready. Behind
the battle array were their three drummers, striking an even
cadence. They marched through the gates, into the street.
"KLI... halt!" Boots crashed obedience. "Into battle lines ...
move!" The men shifted into three open lines, filling the street
from side to side, as smoothly as if they were performing the drill
at parade.
"Javelins... throw!" The spears flew out, and thudded deep into
their targets.
The Kaiti mob broke, and men ran for safety.
"KLI... wheel right... march!" The foot soldiers swung back
against the outer walls of the compound as I pulled myself into
Lucan's saddle.
"Lancers... forward!" and we rode into the streets of Sayana.
Shrieks of terror came as they saw us.
"Lances ... down! At the trot... charge!"
We slammed into the mob like a juggernaut, and broke them and
sent them running. I took down one man, who was running hard
and waving a forgotten saber, with my lance and sent him whirling
away.
The blood-mist was rising, and I heard battle shouts from my
men. Now was the time to ride the rabble down into their own filth.
But we were fifty yards from the compound, and must not be
sucked to our deaths in the dark, twisting streets of Sayana.
"Lancers ... halt!" We reined in and pulled our horses around,
riding back through the gates, the KLI moving smoothly in behind
us, and the gates clanged shut and we were safe.
* I shouted for the civilians to help tend the wounded, and ran to
one of the towers.
I counted forty bodies sprawled in the street. We had two men
dead and half a dozen wounded.
We'd given them a lesson, but the next time it would be our turn
to learn. The next time they would be armored and armed, and
the moment might well be theirs.
We must maintain the edge we'd honed, or else we were
doomed.
Before dawn of the next day we were in motion.
I left only a handful of troops to guard the ResidencyóI doubted
if the mob would have recovered its courage in such a short
timeóand divided the rest into three-man teams.
Neither Tenedos, myself, nor his clerks had any sleep the
previous night. All Numantians in Sayana had been required to list
their current addresses with us, and we divided the list into
groups.
The orders were to bring all Numantians to the compound.
Captain Mellet's infantrymen would screen the inner part of the
city and my Lancers would try to save those living in the outskirts.
One soldier would guard against attack, the other two would help
our people pack what they could carry. They were also instructed
to make sure the civilians took warm clothes and practical
foodstuffsóI remembered as a boy, when a neighboring farm
had burned, its master had run out of the flames proudly waving
what he'd saved from the flames: a single pewter candlestick
he'd seized from a cabinet full of silver and gold.
We had to move swiftly. Each team was told to give no more than
a few minutes to each house, then move the people out, by force
if necessary. The Kaiti would quickly learn what we were doing.
We set out, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Again,
there were no wardens or soldiers abroad; Achim Fergana had
them either restricted to barracks or surrounding his palace to
keep his own neck from feeling the touch of yellow silk.
My companions were Lances Curd and Karjan. I dis-
mounted at one house, a neat little cottage set apart from the
other Kaiti dwellings. This had some hardy plants in window
boxes that still showed green despite the nearing winter. The
door had been painted a welcoming red. But it stood open. My
sword was out as I entered.
I was too late. There had been four Numantians living there, a
man, his wife, and his two sons. I don't remember what had
brought them to Sayana. All four of them were dead, the Tovieti
strangling cords still wound around their throats. The house was
stripped nearly bare.
I cursed and ran to my horse. As I remounted, a mocking laugh
came from somewhere, but I saw no one.
My next address was luckier, although I nearly had to knock a
grandsire out to convince him he must leave. He kept trying to tell
me he'd lived in this city since he was a boy, the Kaiti were his
friends, and nothing bad would happen. I dragged him to his
doorway and pointed to where a knot of glowering men stood,
held back only by Lance Karjan's menace. He looked at his
neighbors and erstwhile "friends," and I thought his heart would
break. But he, his equally aged wife, and their grown son then
obeyed my orders.
As we rode off, I heard cries of triumph as the Kaiti began looting
their house.
A half-dozen other addresses went smoothly.
The next I sensed something strange about, even though there
appeared nothing untoward. It was a large building in a wealthy
part of town.
I slipped out of the saddle and went to the door. I was about to
lift the knocker when I felt something. My sword was suddenly in
my hand. I began to knock, and the unlocked door was pulled
open, and a blade flashed.
But I was not there. I'd slipped to one side without willing the
motion, and as my mind "saw" the attack I lunged, and put my
sword deep in a Tovieti's guts. He gasped helplessly for air that
was rushing from his lungs, dropped his blade, reached for mine,
and died. I yanked my sword free, and went into the house. Curti
and Karjan were behind me.
There was the body of a young woman on the floor, her head
half-severed. An infant lay beside her, the silk strangling cord
around its neck. I heard the sound of crashing from another
room, and crept toward it.
A man was pulling drawers out of a cabinet, eyeing them for
valuables, then dumping them on the floor. An open sack sat on
the table nearby, half full of loot.
"Mil y' stop admirin' your skills with th' blade an' gimme help," he
snarled, half-turning.
His eyes had time to widen just a trifle before my sword took his
head off, and sent it tumbling, blood spraying in a half-circle
against the walls.
I was about to search the house for other Tovieti when a voice
came from the larder:
"Thank you, soldier."
A little girl, no more than six, her hair as golden as mine, walked
into the kitchen. She looked at the headless corpse and nodded
soberly.
"That's good. I think he's the one who killed my father." Then she
looked at me. "Are you going to kill me now?"
I almost burst into tears.
"No," I managed. "I'm a Numantian. Like you are. I've come to
take you to a safe place."
"That's good. I wish you had come a little while ago. While my
sisters were still alive."
I could stand no more. I picked her up and rushed her out of the
house, telling Curti to prepare a bundle for the girl. I'd stay with
her at the horses.
I set her down, and she looked up at Lucan.
"Is he a nice horse?"
"He's a very nice horse. His name is Lucan."
"Can I pet him?"
I nodded, and she walked forward as Lucan lowered his head.
He nickered when she rubbed bis nose.
"Hello, Lucan. I'm Allori."
In a few moments Curti and Karjan came out. He shook his head
in response to my unasked question. There was no one
still alive inside. He had a full armload of clothes, stuffed into a
heavy storage bag.
"I took mostly heavy clothes," he said. "There was some coins in
the bag mat bastard in the kitchen had. I stuck 'em in here. She'll
need 'em when we get her to safety."
I told Allori we must leave, and helped her mount in front of me.
As we turned away, she looked back at the house, then up at me.
"I don't want to live here anymore," she announced quietly. Her
eyes were dry, and I never once saw her cry.
We rode back to the compound. The Kaiti watched, but stayed
well out of our way. There were grumbles and occasional shouts,
but the tale of what had happened the day before had spread,
and no one was willing to chance our wrath.
Of the or so Numantians in the city, we'd managed to save more
than . The others either had changed addresses without telling
us, been killed, or fled from their rescuers, sure they still had
nothing to fear.
But real safety still lay more than miles distant.
The officer of the watch shook me awake just after midnight. I
came to groggily, since I'd been asleep for just over an hour, and
the first thought that wandered across my mind was that the
greatest blessing peace can bring is an uninterrupted night's rest.
"Sir," the man said. "You'd best come to the main gate."
I'd fallen asleep almost completely dressed. All I had to do was
pull on my boots, my heavy coat and helm, sling my sword belt,
and we hurried out It was seething rain, and the torches the watch
held smoked, sending shadows against the water-walls that
washed across us. But I could see well enough.
Lance-Major Wace's head was impaled on his broken-off lance
just outside the gate. Piled against the lance were the heads of
my other men.
We were cut off from Urey.
"But what is it you desire of me?" Achim Fergana asked, trying
to sound concerned.
"Since Your Majesty evidently can no longer govern his jwn city,
cannot guarantee the safety of the public streets to men and
women of my country, I must ask for permission to depart, along
with all other Numantians and those who've chosen me as their
protector."
"What will your masters think of that?" he said.
"The Rule of Ten will be most displeased," Tenedos said. "That I
can guarantee. What action they may choose to make, I cannot
say, but I know it will be harsh, and not in the best interests of
Kait."
"I do not see why my kingdom should be made to suffer
because of the actions of a handful of fanatics." Achim Fergana
actually looked worried; perhaps he'd never considered the
course of his actions, or, more correctly, inactions.
"Where were your soldiers when my Residency was attacked, O
Achim? Where were your wardens when innocents were
slaughtered yesterday?"
"Sayana is experiencing great unrest," Fergana said. "They were
occupied with other duties."
"I noted what those were when we entered your palace,"
Tenedos said. 'Tell me, O Achim, are you so afraid of the Tovieti
you must have all your army protecting you?"
Tenedos's guess the day before had been correct: Soldiers
packed the palace, and the gratings were lowered on all levels of
the balconies above, and archers lined them.
Fergana's face engorged in anger, but I wasn't watching him that
closely; I'd seen, with fascination, the effect the word Tovieti had
on the handful of courtiers around him. It was as if a bloody
corpse had been cast in front of them.
"You cannot speak to me in that manner!"
"Forgive me if I spoke in error. But this is a waste of both of our
time," Tenedos said, steel in his tones. "I ask you for one thing.
Nay, I do not ask it, I demand it, in the name of the Rule of Ten,
and the vast armies they command, armies who seek
but an excuse to pull free the long-time thorn that is the Border
States. I demand you provide myself and those men and women
under my charge safe passage to your borders."
Fergana breathed deeply, forcing control. He gained it.
"Of course you have that," he said. "You need not threaten me
with your soldiers. Seer Tenedos, your presence in my kingdom
has not been a happy one, in spite of a certain service you
managed to perform for me.
"Now I bid you go, and take your fellow Ph 'reng with you. You will
not be troubled, you will not be bothered. But never return to my
kingdom again, not you, not your soldiers, nor your people.
"I hereby proclaim the Kingdom of Kait to be closed to all
Numantians from the time you cross the border into Urey until the
end of time itself!"
Achim Fergana rose and stalked from the room.
That was when the nightmare began.
TWELVE Death in the Ice We'd expected mobs to jeer us out of
Sayana. Butóand this was most ominousóthere were only a few
scuttling figures on the streets when we marched out.
We left the Residency at dawn. It had taken us three days to
prepare for departure, setting up the order of march, making sure
the civilians had proper clothing and footgear, assigning as many
elderly or infirm to wagons as we could, preparing rations, and so
forth.
We chanced going outside the Residency to buy extra food and
horses, although we were hardly welcome in Sayana's
marketplace. We bought with one hand holding gold and the
other on the grip of our swords. We had just enough food, I
hoped, counting the iron rations and dry reserves in the
compound, for the journey back to Urey.
My final task was to call together the fifty remaining hill-men. I told
them their duty was finished, and to line up for their final pay. I
said that once they'd gotten their gold, Seer Tenedos would cast
a spell so they could slip out the gate and disappear into the city
without attracting notice. I thanked them for thp.ir fairtifiilnp.SK.
saiH I wac r..v>"J *~ ´-_..¶- *___^u tnem, and wished things had
gone differently.
About ten of them drew aside, Legate Yonge at their head.
I went to him, and he said quietly, "We wish to serve on with you,
Legate a Cimabue."
I told him how honored I was but that, quite frankly, he was being
foolish. "There is a long journey between here and safety, and I
know we face enemies at every turn."
"Life itself is nothing more than that." Yonge shrugged. "I took an
oath to serve you Ph'reng, and do not wish to be released from
it."
"Yonge, think, man. Even if we make it to Urey, you'll be an exile.
You'll never be able to return to Kait as long as Fergana lives."
"Do you honestly believe," the hillman said, "that lizard shit who
calls himself achim will let any of us escape his punishment for
serving you? I know he'll have \asjasks cast seeking spells for
anyone who swore fealty to the resident-general, and a slow
death will follow their discovery.
"No. I would prefer to take my chances with the seer, as would
my fellows." He started to say more, but broke off.
"Go ahead," I encouraged.
"Two other reasons. You treated us as equals when you came,
as did all your Lancers, in spite of what I know they feel about
Kaiti. This is the way of honor. I wish to learn more about it.
"Besides"óhe grinnedó"I have never seen Urey, and would like
to learn what skills their women have when they come willingly to
your bed."
I could do nothing other than accept. For their safety on the
march, I told them to dress themselves as Numantians, although
I wished them to keep their native garb ready. There might be a
need for a Kaiti spy on our journey.
We planned to cover the nearly miles in about ten days, weather
permitting. The rains were coming to a halt, and while it was bitter
cold, so far the winter storms had not begun.
The order of march was One and Two Columns, Seventeenth
Lancers, at the front; then two platoons of the Khurram Light
Infantry; then the civilians; a third platoon of the KLI; Four
Column; our wagons, which I asked Captain Mellet to
take charge of; the last of the infantry and Three Column, which
I personally regarded as the best of my troop, at the rear, under
the command of Troop Guide Bikaner. I half apologized for
always giving him the hardest task. He half smiled and said," 'S
alright, sir. I'm gettin' so used to eatin' dust now I've grown t'like
its taste."
The city gate stood open, and the guards were withdrawn. Sitting
on horseback, just on the other side, was Achin Baber Fergana,
surrounded by some of his courtiers and cavalrymen.
Now we heard jeering, but it was muted. Even these lackeys
were afraid of Tenedos's magic, which had killed Jask Irshad and
saved us from the demon.
Tenedos held up his hand, and we reined in. He stared long and
hard at Fergana, his eyes harsh, as if he were cutting a steel
engraving of the man. Fergana grew visibly nervous under the
stare, then wheeled his horse and galloped around us, his men
streaming after him, back into Sayana.
One of them turned as he rode through the gates, and shout ed,
"M'rtti Ph'reng!"
Tenedos turned to me. "Ride on, Legate."
I shouted commands, and the long train creaked forward.
Behind me, I heard Lance Karjan grunt, "Good, that. Don't give th'
bastard no satisfaction. "Though it'd do me good t'see th' seer
send a bolt a lightnin' up that shit-heel's arse, 'twould."
It was a charming thought, and I did wish Tenedos had cast
some sort of spell, even though my rational mind knew the achim
was well surrounded with protection from his coaitjasks.
It gave me something to think about as we crawled north toward
Sulem Pass. If I'd had to watch my words before, when we'd first
made the slow passage, now I must be doubly careful. I must not
try to hurry these civilians, for fear they'd panic, or else lose all
belief in themselves and lie down to die.
Another thought occurred: I told Lance Karjan that he might have
chosen to be my servant, but the best way he could serve was to
stick close to Seer Tenedos. I could manage for myself, but the
resident-general must survive. Karjan muttered
darkly, but obeyed, and from that time on stayed as close to
Tenedos as he'd permit.
This was fairly open country, so I was able to keep Two Column
out as flankers. The few Kaiti we saw stayed distant from the
road.
I'd expected harassing attacks the moment we went beyond the
gate, but nothing happened. I knew better than to expect
Fergana's safe-conduct to be better than before, and wondered
when we'd be hit.
We camped the first night, having made almost twelve miles,
which sounds like very little, but on a first day's march, with
inexperienced people, it was quite respectable.
Seer Tenedos said he would put out magical wards, so no more
than a third of my men were needed as guards. He sensed no
spells being cast against us as yet.
The second day went even better, and I grew quite worried^óthe
longer the wait, the nastier the surprise.
Captain Mellet chided me for my gloom.
"We could," he said, "be the first Numantians to have good luck
in Sulem Pass, now couldn't we?"
We broke into rueful laughter at the same time.
That day we made fourteen miles, and the weather held as it'd
been, cold, with a chill wind coming down from the moun-
taintops.
It was almost noon on the third day when the hillmen made their
first move. The ground was no longer so open, and the icy river
ran to one side of the road, so I had pulled my flankers back into
the main column.
From nowhere about a hundred mounted men appeared in front
of us, blocking the road. I heard cries of alarm from the civilians,
but paid no heed.
The hillmen trotted toward us, only stopping when I shouted for
them to halt or be fired upon.
One man walked his horse forward. He was tall, quite thin, and his
beard was braided. He wore a long multicolored coat, made of
different animal furs, and his long saber hung below his stirrups.
* He pulled up about twenty feet from me.
"So you are the Numantians, eh?"
"Your perception is almost as acute as your eyesight," Tenedos
said.
The man grinned, showing blackened teeth.
"I am Memlinc, and my word is law in Sulem Pass."
"I know some other Men of the Hills," Tenedos said, "who might
argue that."
"Pah. Bandits, no more. They all kneel when I come before
them."
"No doubt," Tenedos agreed. "So why have you honored us with
your presence, Memlinc the Great?"
"I wished to see the Ph'reng that pig Fergana ordered out of
Sayana. You have some women I might fancy, or one of my
warriors might like. One of my elders has the Gift, and he's
shown me, in a vision, a girl or two worthy of attending me in bed.
"Yes, women. And perhaps half your gold and jewels. I am a
reasonable man, but since you must pass through my domain, I
think it only reasonable for you to pay some sort of tribute, eh?"
Tenedos waited a long moment, then leaned forward and said
softly, "Fuck you."
Memlinc blinked.
'To be precise," the seer went on, "fuck you, fuck the whore who
called herself your mother and fuck the father you never knew
because he never paid for the first time."
Memlinc's face paled.
"You cannot speak to me like that! No one can and still live!"
"Ah?" Tenedos's voice was still mild.
Memlinc's hand flashed to his dagger, just as my blade slid half
out of its sheath.
"Very well," he said, and pulled his lips back into something
resembling a smile. "Let your words carry their own penalty. I
offered you peace... now see what my other hand carries."
He picked up his reins, and made as if to turn his horse.
Instead, he spurred it forward, straight at the column, in a full
gallop.
I guess this was his way of showing his courage to his fellows.
They shouted encouragement, and made as if to charge. My
archers' bows were up, a volley went out, and the hill-men's ranks
became a cluster of plunging, wounded horses.
Memlinc hurtled down our column at full speed. No one had time
to draw a sword and strike at him, and he was too close for bow
or lance.
But he didn't reckon with Lucan. I spun my horse in his tracks and
shouted him into a run.
A spear almost took the hillman, but he ducked under it, then
drove his horse through the last few infantrymen into the column
toward the second wagon. On it were a handful of women, a few
old civilians, and some children. Riding beside the driver was
one of Tenedos's retainers, an assistant pastry chef named
Jacoba. I'd noted her beforeóa small, exceptionally striking
young woman, a year or two older than I was, with long, dark hair
she normally wore tied into a bunóbut had never so much as
spoken to her.
She must have been one of the beauties Memlinc's elder had
magically pointed out, because with a shout of triumph the Kaiti
leaned from his saddle, scooped Jacoba across it, spurred his
horse away from the road.
I turned my own mount through the column after him. One of
MeUet's men was fumbling with his javelin, and I yanked it from
his grip.
Memlinc rode for a twisting ravine. Once he was away from the
road, no one would dare follow him. He was crouched in the
saddle, his face far forward on his horse's neck.
I stood in my stirrups, balanced... and cast. Perhaps he thought
Numantians were gentlemanly at war, or fools, because I did not
aim at him, but at the far better target. The spear took his horse in
the haunches. It screamed, and fell, sending the woman and her
kidnapper tumbling. I pulled Lucan up hard, skidding, and came
out of the saddle as Mem-
* line rolled to his feet. His saber had been lost in the fall, and he
ran at me, yanking a long dagger from inside his coat. His hand
swooped down to pick up a rock as he came. As he started to
pitch it underhand into my face my sword snaked out, and his
hand, still holding the rock, fell to the ground. He had an instant to
stare in disbelief at his blood pulsing out, then my blade ripped
into him on the counterstroke, cutting deep into his chest,
smashing through his ribs and into his heart Behind me I heard
battle shouts, but paid them no mind. I ran forward, I lifted the
stunned Jacoba, and turned to find Lucan. He was beside me,
sensing that we had but an instant. I mounted, yanking Jacoba
across the pommel of my saddle, and then we galloped hard for
the safety of the train.
A handful of Memlinc's riders had attempted to ride to the aid of
their leader, but my men cut them off. There were a handful of
bodies, men and horses, down in front of the column, and the
rest of the bandits were fleeing up a wide draw.
I waved to Tenedos to resume the march. I returned Jacoba to
her wagon just as she got her wind back. Her nose was bloody,
her coat dirty from the fall, and I suspected she'd have a black
eye on the morrow. She tried to find strength for words, but it had
not returned as yet. I touched my helmet and rode back to the
head of the formation.
As I rode past Two Column I heard a low whistle, the mocking
signal the men used to show exaggerated awe at a particular
piece of grandstanding. I buried a grin, and put a scowl on. Two
Column would be my choice for rotten details for the next few
days.
I pulled my horse in beside Tenedos.
"Now I wonder," he said, without preamble, "if that was Memlinc's
plan from the beginning, or if he was merely improvising?"
"Probably the last, sir. I'll guess he needed to do some showing
off to make sure his men still thought he was worthy to lead
them."
"Speaking of showing off," he said after a few seconds,
"what, Legate Damastes a Cimabue, do they teach you at the
lycee about a soldier who abandons his command to do
something perfectly stupid, if noble?"
"Generally, sir," I said, realizing I had been a gods-damned fool
but not regretting it for a moment, "he gets praised, then taken
behind the barracks, given a thumping by one of the bigger
warrants, and told never, ever do something like that again."
"My congratulations, then. When we reach Urey," Tenedos said,
"I may wish to borrow Troop Guide Bikaner for an afternoon. Until
then, however, do me the favor of not performing any more
daring rescues that can get you killed. I really do not wish to
command a troop of Lancers in addition to my other
responsibilities."
"Yessir. And while we're talking about responsibilities, sir, may I
say how shocked I am at the language a professional diplomat
sometimes uses?"
"Tut, young Legate," Tenedos said, mock-magisterially.
"Consider this: Our opponent is defeated, is he not? His forces
have retreated, have they not? Our way lies unobstructed, and we
wasted little time in the colloquy, correct?
"Perhaps," he said, mock-mournfully, "I should have attempted
similar tactics with our friend the Achim."
That was the last time I laughed for a long time.
The next day the raiders came backóor perhaps it was a
different clan of bandits. They lay concealed on the other side of
the riverbank until the cavalry passed, then about thirty archers
rose from concealment and showered arrows into the front two
platoons of foot soldiers. The infantrymen instantly charged; the
best way to survive an ambush is to attack the least-expected
direction. The archers turned and splashed away through the
shallow river without fighting.
On the other side of the road men darted out of their hiding
places and ran toward the wagons, screaming war cries. They cut
down the thin screen of guards, and in seconds grabbed what
they fancied from the wagons and were gone. At the same time a
third group struck the civilians. They stole ten
Numantiansófive women, including two of the KLI's camp
followers, a ten-year-old girl, a baby, and three men.
Then there was nothing but the keening of the wind through the
rocks and the cries of the wounded and dying. Seven soldiers,
six men of the KLI and one of my hillmen, died in that skirmish,
and another half dozen were wounded.
We reformed and marched on.
An hour later, we heard screams from the rocks ahead. The Men
of the Hills had begun their sport.
Around the next bend, we found the baby. Its brains had been
dashed out against a roadside boulder and its tiny corpse left for
us to find.
We went on, and eventually the screams were lost in the
distance.
An hour later we came on the village where the boy had tried to
murder me with his grandfather's bow. This time there was no
one at all in the settlement. It was growing colder, so Tenedos
suggested that we send a search party through the huts, to see if
there were blankets or other bedding material we might acquire.
I kept the main column outside the village, and sent our
searchers in on foot. The first two huts were empty, already
stripped bare. The lance leading the search party set foot in the
third hut, and a crossbow clacked and he came stumbling out,
looking bewildered, and tugging at a small bolt, scarcely big
enough to bring down a sparrow, stuck in his chest.
The crossbow had been cleverly rigged so anyone coming
through the doorway would trigger it The lance cursed, pulled out
the bolt, and tossed it aside, saying it was nothing. He started for
the next hut, then screamed in pain, clawing at the tiny hole the
shaft had made. He fell to his knees, then on his back,
convulsing, biting his tongue almost through. Before anyone
reached him, he was dead.
The tiny wound already smelted of putrefaction from the
poisoned arrow.
We found only a few things worth taking, but when we went on
the village was a sea of flames. I remembered the gift
of life I'd given the boy, and grimaced. I'd learned how war was
fought in these landsóto the knife, and the knife to the hilt. The
Kaiti would learn that Numantia could fight as brutally as anyone.
The next two villages we also put to the torch, the second, after
we'd spent the night in it.
Late in the afternoon of the sixth day, we reached the ford where
I'd met Tenedos. We'd barely made camp when the long-
threatening storm broke, and icy gales lashed over us, driving
snow hard into our faces.
Tenedos cautioned us to be doubly alert, for he sensed sorcery
swirling around us. I needed no caution, though. This was ideal
weather for the hillmen. I put my men on half-alert, and doubled
all guard posts.
Captain Mellet set up stoves next to the wagons, and stretched
canvas roofs over them. After I'd seen to my men, and those off
watch had been fed, Tenedos and I went through the line for our
own supper. It was nothing more than rice with some meat in it,
and herb tea, but praise the goddess Shahriya for her gift of fire,
it was hot.
One of the servers was the young woman Jacoba. As I thought,
she was sporting a wicked black eye. She looked at me, started
to say something, then looked away. I was just as pointlessly
embarrassed, and went on without speaking.
The little girl, Allori Pares, came up to me while I ate.
"Hello, soldier. Do you remember me?"
I did, and told her to call me Damastes.
'T ve been helping that other soldier with the food." She pointed
to Captain Mellet. "He said he's got a daughter just my age."
I knew Captain Mellet was unmarried, and smiled inside myself at
the craggy bachelor trying to be nice to the child.
"I like cooking. Maybe ... if I grow up, I'll want to have an inn."
If she grew up. Part of me wanted to cry, part of me wanted to lay
waste to this whole gods-damned country.
"You'll grow up," I said finally. "You and I, we're partners. I'll make
sure nothing happens."
"Is that a promise?" "That's a promise."
At midnight, I went the rounds relieving my guards, then thought I
could chance a bit of sleep, giving instructions to the commander
of the guard to wake me when it was time for the watch to
change.
The wind roared even louder, and the snow was drifting on the
ground. I found a place to lie, thought wistfully of those civilians
who had found sleeping room in or under one of the wagons,
wrapped myself in Lucan's saddle blanket and my cloak, and do
not remember my head touching the saddlebag I'd set for a
pillow.
The air was rich with the scent of orange blossoms and tamarind.
I lay back on the silk pillows, wearing only a loincloth, feeling the
houseboat move slightly as gentle waves washed under it. There
seemed to be no other craft on the lake, its water echoing the
blueness of the sky. A soft summer breeze touched me and was
gone.
I felt a touch of thirst, picked up the goblet from the tray beside
me, and sipped a cooling punch, its scent a marvelous
combination of peaches and strawberries.
Jacoba lay on pillows beside me. She wore nothing but a
sleeveless vest and flaring pants of a material thinner than silk.
She leaned toward me, and slowly undid the fastening of my
loincloth and it fell away. My cock rose to meet her fingers. She
bent, and her tongue flicked around its head, then caressed it
down to its base, then she took me in her mouth. I felt my pulse
hammer.
She came lithely to her feet, and untied the yellow silk cord that
held her pants, and stepped out of them as they fell away.
Jacoba knelt across my thighs, and as I arched my back her
fingers guided me into her. She moaned, and her hands slid
across my chest, still holding the cord. She raised herself, came
back down, raised once more, and as she did she slipped the
cord around my neck, and pulled it taut, twisting it hard, her head
going back as she cried in passion.
The universe was nothing but my cock in her softness and the
wonderful feel of that cord as joy rose within me, and I opened
my mouth to shout...
... and a child screamed and the face above me was bearded
and twisted in evil, silent laughter. The blood crashed against my
temples and I was looking at him through a tunnel as I brought
my feet up and booted the Tovieti back into the snow. He came
to his feet, reaching for a knife at his waist as I dove at him, the
back of my fist smashing into his face, then drove the heel of my
hand against the base of his nose. He cried out and fell,
spattering blood and cartilage on me as I dropped on him, my
rigidly braced forearm crushing his windpipe. I rolled off as he
died, and I had my sword in hand.
The camp was alive with shouts and screams, and I saw the dim
form of men running away, into the snowstorm, as torches flared
up into life.
The Tovieti's cord still hung around my neck, and now I could
feel its red burn.
I ran into the center of the rounded wagons, shouting for full
alertness. Tenedos, Lance Karjan behind him, came out of the
darkness, blearing awake. But the Tovieti were gone.
Six of my soldiers were slain at their posts. How the Tovieti were
able to creep up on paired sentries and slay them without any
alarm being given, I do not know. Then they'd crept into the camp
and begun their killing.
Ten civilians had been killed, eight of them, including a month-old
baby, strangled, the other two knifed in their sleep.
I paid no mind to the wails of fear and mourning, but pulled
Tenedos aside.
"What happened to your wards? Didn't you sense anything?"
"I felt nothing," the seer said, and a bit of fear showed on his
face. "My magic should have worked ... but it did not. I don't know
why."
I felt a flash of anger, then common sense prevailed. Why should
Tenedos's craft have done any better than a soldier's?
* Both were but men, and their skills imperfect. I wondered what
child had greater prescience than any of us, but never found who
had screamed.
We collected the bodies, and prepared them for burial. The
ground was frozen hard, so I ordered well-guarded parties out to
gather the rocks we'd use to build tombs.
We built the fires up, and made more tea. Once again, I saw
Jacoba, buttering bits of hard bread. She set her knife down and
walked over.
"I never had the chance to thank you," she said.
"It's not necessary."
She was silent for a moment "Just now... when they came, I was
dreaming of you," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.
I'm afraid I colored, although she could not have seen it in the
dark.
"I, uh, well... I had a dream of you, as well," I finally managed.
"We were in a boat," she said dreamily. "Just the two of us. It
was on a lake. Perhaps it was one of the houseboats I've read
about, in Urey." She fell silent. I said nothing, amazed. There was
a long silence. Then she looked up at me.
"Perhaps... perhaps, if we live..." She turned away, suddenly, and
went back to her task.
The next morning the storm was worse. The icy walls of Sulem
Pass closed about us, and the wind blew hard from the north.
We were struck four times that day by hillmen. Two or three men
would rush out of biding, seize the person or goods they wanted,
and disappear. We could not post a soldier every five feet, so we
made no kills.
The column was straggling, no matter how hard Troop Guide
Bikaner and Three Column at the rear eluded or threatened. I
rode up and down the long line, trying to encourage, and when
someone was obviously exhausted let them ride Lucan for a
spell while I walked alongside. Rabbit and our
other spare mounts were already carrying the sick, lame, or
oldóand there were still too many of the helpless afoot. Each
time bandits attacked, we'd take casualties, and the wounded
would go into the wagons, further displacing someone who
should not be walking.
I learned another lesson that day. I'd disparaged the camp
followers the KLI had brought with them as no more than whores.
But it was they who nursed the wounded and sick, bringing a bit
of mercy and softness to someone's last hour.
We halted an hour before noon, and it took another hour for the
last laggard to stumble into camp.
I could have broken up the infantry and sent them into the civilian
column to help, but then I'd have lost half my fighting men, and
would have no coherent unit to support the middle of the line.
The best I could do was order Two and Four Columns to
dismount and use their horses to carry more of the helpless. If
we were attacked, they were to help the people out of the saddle,
then mount and form up. It was stupidóthe time wasted would
be more than enough for the Men of the Hills to escapeóbut I
could not watch people in my charge just die.
Laish Tenedos had said little that morning, and now I found him
at the front of the column, seemingly unaware of the gale, the
snow, or his always-present companion, Karjan. He became
aware of me, and turned. His nose and cheeks were beginning to
pale with frostbite.
"Snow," he said musingly, and I thought he was in shock from the
cold, "Damastes, we need more snow."
I knew he'd gone mad.
"Come. I think I've derived a spell that can help us, if only briefly
and slightly."
He hurried to the wagon that held his magical gear, and took out
various bits of paraphernalia. I helped him lug the materials back
to where I'd found him. He paced ten steps out into the
undisturbed snow.
"Best I cast this where man has not walked," he said. He used
four small candlesticks, each ending in a spike, to make a
square on the ground about two feet on each side. Into them he
put four small candles, one green, one white, one black, one
red.
In the center, he put a small brazier set on a tripod that brought it
almost to waist level.
Awkwardly he sprinkled herbs onto the brazier, shielding it with
one hand to keep the wind from scattering his material.
Then he prayed, first to our goddess of the earth, then to the god
whose realm was water "Jacini, hear We are your children We
are the earth Varum take heed I seek now a boon I seek now a
loan.
"Grant me this favor Grant me this wish."
¶* -
He touched a finger to each candle, and they spurted fire, a high,
narrow flame three times the candles' height.
He held a finger, without burning it, in each of those flames, his
lips moving in an incantation, then touched it to the herbs in the
brazier. He raised his voice:
"There is peace There is calm All is still All is frozen.
"Time will stop Time must stop You will hear You will heed."
The herbs began smoldering, and then I saw something truly
marvelous. The snowflakes swirling in the space defined by die
four candles froze, as if they'd been cast in an invisible amber, a
cube two feet on all sides.
"Good," Tenedos said. "Someone... godornot... approves my
wish. Now for the hard part"
His hands moved in a strange series of gestures, and something
was born in that brazier. It was dark, speckled with light, and had
form, yet no form, and my eyes hurt trying to make it out and I
looked away.
Again, Tenedos chanted:
"I have a need You owe a debt I did a boon Now you must
serve."
The dark shadow, or cloud or form, shivered, as if taken by the
wind. There was a humming.
"Thak?" Tenedos said. "He is not of your realm, nor do I wish to
strike against him. You will obey me."
The shadow hummed once more.
"I said you will obey." Tenedos's fingers moved in quick
gestures, and the humming came once more, and I oddly
thought it a groan of pain. The shadow bent, as if bowing in
obedience.
"Very well." Once more Tenedos touched the brazier.
"There are those beyond They are filled with hate They would do
us harm They must be turned away."
The shadow grew tall, taller than a man. Tenedos continued his
chant:
r * "Varum gave me water This shall be our tool It shall be your
weapon It shall not be seen.
"Snow that blinds Snow that hides Cloud the mind Cloud the
eyes.
"They shall not see They shall not know We shall pass We shall
pass."
The magical square was empty.
"Now take your weapons and go," Tenedos said, then resumed
the chant:
"I bid you once I bid you twice I bid you thrice You must obey
You will obey."
Now it was the shadow's turn to vanish. Tenedos motioned, and
the four candles smoked and went out.
"Now we shall see what we shall see," he said. "If that spell
works, it should act as a fog to those robbers. They'll somehow
know we're not on them yet, even though we're in front of them,
or else know that we passed hours ago. They'll know we left the
road and seek us up side tracks, or else comb the villages,
knowing we took shelter from the storm.
"If the spell works."
"What was that shadow?" I asked. I'd been fascinated,
completely oblivious of the cold and storm.
"Something from ... somewhere else," Tenedos said,
Sfi
deliberately vague. "Something I performed a service for once." I
knew he'd tell me no more, but I had one final question.
"Is Thak more powerful than that being?"
"Who knows?" Tenedos said. "My wraith is a lazy one, and hardly
gifted with what we mortals call courage. But I'd suppose he is
less powerful than the Tovieti's demon."
"Will Thak attack us, as he did in the cavern?"
"I don't know," Tenedos said. "I've been preparing some spells if
he does ... but have no notion if they will work. I don't think they
will. I need something more."
"Such as?"
"No, Damastes. That I cannot, must not, tell you. Not now, not
ever."
That was the first moment I touched on what was the Seer
Tenedos's great secret, the secret that would bring him an
empire. When I reveal it, it shall be obvious, but it never was to
Tenedos's friends, tribunes, army, or his enemies until far too
late.
"Now, let us travel on," he said.
After we'd reformed for the march I saw there were still four
people huddled in the snow. I went to the first. It was one of my
cavalrymen. His mustache and eyebrows were thick with frost,
and his eyes were glazed.
"On your feet, Lance."
He stared up, without seeing, rocking back and forth. I pulled him
up, but it was as if he were boneless. He sagged back to the
ground.
Troop Guide Bikaner ran up, and yanked the soldier to his feet,
as I'd done. Once more the man fell. "Son of a mother-stabbing
bitch," he swore. "Th' shortcock's given up!"
And so it was.
"Shall we leave 'im?"
I thought about it. The Lancers never abandon their dead or
wounded except in the last resort, and this man, someone with a
weak spirit, was as much a casualty as if he'd been slashed by a
hillman's sword.
"No," I said. "Find a place for him on one of the wagons. Ask
Captain Mellet to put one more civilian into his saddle."
I went on to the next huddled figure. It was an old man, and he
was quite dead, frozen as he sat. So were the other two. One
was an equally aged woman, the other a boy in his teens. I was
startled.
"Don't be s'prised, sir," Bikaner told me. "There's some-thin' at
I've learned, an' that's th' young don't cling t'life that hard.
Damned if I know why, but they'll lay down in their tracks long
afore a mean old bastard like me's even feelin' puny. Mebbe
they're so fresh from th' Wheel they don't mind returnin'."
We moved on without burying the deadówe had no time to
gather rocks for their tombs. I muttered a short prayer as we rode
away.
The road climbed, not steeply enough so a traveler in normal
times might even notice, but it was like a mountain to some of us.
Now men and women started dropping, falling off to the sides of
the column. Soldiers would kick, curse, help them, but too often
to no use. Sometimes these people, desperate to be left alone,
desperate for some final peace, would just wander off the track
and be lost in the storm.
A KLI warrant, already staggering, trying to shepherd two young
boys, told me he thought he'd seen someone stumble away a
few minutes ago, a woman he'd tried to help before.
I rode back, and found a path leading to the side. I dismounted,
and saw footprints, rapidly being filled as the snow drove down.
Leading Lucan, I went after them.
I allowed myself a count of before I must turn back, or chance
losing my own way.
I'd reached seventy-five when I heard the snarls, and Lucan
whinnied in terror and tried to pull away. Four wolves growled
around the sprawled figure of the woman. There was blood on
the snow. They saw me, and bared their fangs.
I dropped from the saddle, drew my sword, and started forward,
perhaps unwisely, but I could no longer, must no longer, be
helpless.
The wolves waited until I was about five feet away, then yapped,
turned, and bounded off.
I knelt beside the woman. Her throat was ripped out, but her eyes
were closed and there was a peaceful smile on her lips. I lifted
her across Lucan's saddle, vowing I'd not leave her for the
beasts, and made my way back to the column. We found a place
for the corpse, lashed to a wagon's tongue.
The wagons were full, now, and we began mounting people
double. At least the horses were strong and well fed, although I
knew the strain would drive them under in just a few days.
So it went that day, and halfway through the next. The road wound
on and on, never offering any respite. Sometimes the storm
clouds blew away, but all they showed us was gray, wet rock,
snow, and ice. Tenedos's spell seemed to be workingó we had
no more encounters with the hill tribes.
None of us looked like soldiers. We were unshaven, with dark
circles under our eyes. We'd tied rags around our heads and
pulled our helmets down over them, and those of us who had the
shabby sheepskin coats we'd used to disguise ourselves as Kaiti
wore them over our armor and thanked trisu for their warmth. I'd
given mine to one of the civilians on the second day of the
march, and secretly hoped he might fall dead and I'd stumble on
his corpse and recover my coat I noted a cruel irony. Someone
who was weak, unable to walk, would be moved to one of the
wagons. But riding produced no warmth, and the storm cut
through the rugs and blankets. At each halt there'd be frozen
corpses to lift off the wagons, but there'd always be new riders
trying for a place to sit One wagon was set aside for the dead,
and they would be cremated at our noon halt. We had forty
soldiers and about seventy civilians as casualties of one sort or
another, more than half of them dead.
There was no time, no energy, to bury them, but we could not just
abandon the bodies or we might as well be beasts. Tenedos
produced a spell. The corpses were piled, words said, and they
burned without smoke, without smell, without any * more of a
flame save a low blue one that looked like the one produced
when brandy is ignited.
We had been traveling now foróand it took some
thoughtóeight, no, nine days, and I knew my hoped-for pace of
ten miles a day was a joke. But all we could do was push on,
push on.
About an hour after the midday meal of the tenth, Tenedos sent
down the column for me. I'd been walking with Captain Mellet,
and we'd been trying to think if there were some unnecessary
baggage aboard the wagons to dump, so even more could ride.
Allori had been riding Lucan, and listening to our conversation
intently. Without being bid, she slipped out of the saddle and I
mounted, and sent Lucan at a slow trot to the head of the train,
just as it was stumbling to a halt.
"It seems the spell is working better, if a little differently than I
thought," Tenedos said without preamble. "My little friend
appeared a few moments ago, and said that there were enemies
ahead, waiting. He'd not been able to blind them with the
sorcerous snow, but owed me the duty of a warning.
"Your department now, Legate."
I felt my lips form in a tight, humorless smile.
I turned to Lance Karjan.
"Ride back, Lance, and ask Troop Guide Bikaner if he'd care for
an outing. Also tell Captain Mellet I'd like a dozen volunteers."
Karjan nodded, turned to his horse, then stopped.
"Sir," he said, and his eyes were pleading. "Can Ió"
I was about to say no, but Tenedos spoke first.
'Take him if he wishes. I'll fend for myself."
I wanted a total of twenty-five volunteers, split between the
infantry and cavalry. I could have had if I'd wanted. Among them
were Yonge and his hillmen. I chose him and two of his fellows.
I knew approximately where we were on the map, which I'd
looked at as little as possible to avoid the heartbreak of seeing
how slowly we were progressing toward safety.
I could imagine just where the hilhnen would be waiting. It was a
very good place indeed, where a small valley belled between two
narrow draws. They would wait until we were in the valley, then
attack from their hiding places, at the same time sealing both the
front and rear exits, and cut us to ribbons at their leisure.
But I saw, even though the map was vague in its details, where I
thought the Men of the Hills might well lay themselves open,
especially remembering how they'd not bothered to guard their
rear in the ambush at the ford.
I assembled my twenty-five volunteers and issued orders. We'd
carry swords, knives, bows and arrows, no more, plus ropes. We
tied off in five groups of five men and scrambled up the side of
the pass. It was a hard climb, moving from boulder to boulder,
never sure of our footing, slipping often. I nearly fell half a dozen
times, and was pulled to safety by Karjan. I returned the favor
four times myself before we reached the ridgeline, perhaps feet
above the roadway.
The map was now useless, but I had a feel for the terrain. I
closed my eyes so there was no storm, and I was looking down
on that tiny valley as if it were a clear summer day. The ridgeline
ran almost due north, following the invisible road far below.
We moved along it, just on the far side, so even if there'd been a
momentary break we wouldn't be spotted. It was hellish hard, the
rocky mountain steeply slanted, sometimes almost vertical.
It took us four hours before we reached the point I wishedóor,
rather, where I imagined the point to be. We should have been
just at the far northern end of that little valley. I gave the last
orders and signals.
Now to find a way downóand the only one was little better than a
cliff. As commander, I should have gone first, but pride was
secondary to logic. I chose Yonge to go first. He unroped, and
then tied off on a fresh line, looked over the edge, winced, and
checked his knots once more. 'Tell me again about those Ureyan
women, sir."
* Before I could say anything he was gone. At the end of his rope
another hillman tied a line onto it and went down, then one of my
lances, an experienced man from the eastern mountains, named
Varvaro. He'd barely gone three feet when the rope went slack,
then was pulled twice, the agreed signal that Yonge had reached
safe ground.
We went over the edge after him, and found ourselves on a tiny
plateau. It was hardly what I'd call safe ground, since it slanted
off at about forty-five degrees. But a small spring bubbled out,
still unfrozen, that had carved a ravine that, to my eyes, looked
like a highway leading to the road below.
We rolled socks over our boots, so there'd be no clatter as we
descended. It didn't make our footing any easier, but we
managed to reach level ground without falling or raising an alarm.
We were just where I'd hoped to descendsóat the far northern
end of the valley. Weapons ready, we started forward.
We smelted burning wood and heard the crackle of the fire
before we saw anything. Then we saw, dimly through the snow,
the hillmen who were one of the ambush's "corks," sealing the
valley's northern end. There were sixteen of them.
We went out on line. I waited, then yelped as much like a jackal
as I knew how, which was not very, and we rushed them.
We were on them before they had time to cry out, and then it was
too late. They scrabbled for their weapons, but our steel was
searing into their bodies. In a few moments, the last was down.
Without bidding, some of my men went from body to body,
making sure all were dead. We needed no betrayal from our rear,
and mercy had died somewhere along the cruel track from
Sayana.
Following the road, we went across the valley to the south. We
crept from cover to cover, thoroughly scouting each ravine, each
draw, before we passed it.
We came on the rest of the ambushers in one of them, as we'd
expected. The hiflman, and their horses, had found shelter from
the raging winds in a canyon cleft. It was only about fifteen feet
deep, but gave excellent cover. Vastly experienced at lying in
wait, they knew better than to man exposed posi-
tions until they must, and their scouts posted to the south would
not have given the warning of the column's arrival. Obviously
Tenedos's spell was working, since their jask, if any were with
them, hadn't sensed us.
We crept out on the rock above them. When we were ready, our
bows strung and arrows nocked, we stood as one and fired down
into them. There were a few screams, and even pleas for mercy,
that went unheard. When the last man was down, the snow
splashed with blood, we went into the cleft with our swords. We'd
carefully avoided shooting their horses, for they'd be needed.
When we moved on, they were the only living things left in that
draw.
They'd posted three scouts at the southern end of the valley. We
surprised and slew two of themóthe last fled into the growing
darkness before we could stop him.
Yonge swore. "It would've been a mighty tale," he said, "if we'd
killed every last man. That would be a legend that would live long
in the hills."
"It'll live longer now there's someone t'do th' tellin'," Kar-jan
pointed out, and Yonge grinned agreement.
We were blood-covered and exhausted, but felt no fatigue,
trotting through the pass back to our fellows. The word went
down the column and I heard some low cheers. We weren't
always helpless victims.
We hastened back through the draw, stopped at the cleft long
enough to secure the horses and loot the bodies of their coats,
then went on, forcing ourselves to move beyond that second
narrow place, out of the valley.
Finally, just before full dark, the pass opened once more, and we
found a place to circle our wagons.
I sat huddled against a wagon wheel, Lucan tethered beside me,
using a stone to touch up where my dagger's edge had been
nicked on the bones of one of the men I'd killed that day. I
smelted bad, worse than before, but I was almost warm,
wrapped in a stinking sheepskin cloak I'd taken from one of the
corpses.
* It had even stopped snowing as hard as it had been. I looked
up and saw the little girl Allori. She held a cup out to me. I took it
and drank the hot tea it held, and felt the warmth spread. She sat
beside me.
'I have been thinking, Damastes."
"Oh?"
"You said we are partners."
"And so we are."
"Well, if we are partners, and if I want to open an inn, doesn't that
mean you'd help me?"
"Well, that's an idea," I said. "But I'm a soldier, so I'd have to
spend a lot of time away."
"That's all right. My mother..." and the girl's voice caught for a
moment, then she recovered, "always said a man shouldn't be
allowed in the kitchen too much or he'd start thinking he was
better than he was."
"Your mother was probably right"
"Maybe Jacoba would help, too. I know she likes you. Do you like
her?"
"I... well, yes. I do."
"Do you like her more than you like me?"
I chose my words carefully.
"I like you both ... but in different kinds of ways."
"Oh. When I'm older, would you like us both the same way?"
I didn't answer that one at all. Instead, I changed the subject.
"Allori, do you know if you have any relatives you can live with
until you get old enough to open our inn?"
"I don't think so." Her voice became wistful. "I don't know where
I'll go."
"I do," I said. "I know of a place where there's no cold at all."
"Not ever?"
"Not ever. It's warm, and everything's green, and there's all kinds
of animals to play with." I talked on, telling her about my parents'
estates. If she had no one, they could take her hió
there were more than enough women who'd delight in the little
girl. Allori listened intently, her eyes wide. When I ran out of nice
things to say about Cimabue, we sat in silence for a minute.
"Maybe I could have my own kitten," she said. "I had one, back...
back there. But it ran away."
"You can have ten kittens if you want," I promised.
"That would be nice." She got up, then quickly bent over and
kissed me on the cheek. "Phew," she said. "You smell awful!"
She laughed and was gone in the darkness.
We crept on for two more days without attack. But men, and
women, still died from the cold as the storm came back,
seemingly doubling its fury. We went on, dully, forcing ourselves,
because there was nothing else to do.
Then, less than a day's journey from the end of Sulem Pass,
Tenedos came to me.
"The spell's been broken," he said. "I can't feel it out there
anymore."
"ThakT'
"I don't know. I was afraid to cast any runes, for fear, if it is him,
he'd sense us and know just where we are."
I decided when we halted next, about two hours from now, we
would reform into proper formation before moving on. If our
magical shield had been ripped away, even if we lost half a day,
the lost time would be worthwhile, since we were no more than a
shambling herd of walking wounded.
But we were not given the chance.
They hit us an hour later. We were about halfway across another
of Sulem Pass's occasional valleys when the attack came. It was
only by the grace of Isa mat we had a bare moment's warning
when one group who couldn't stand the suspense broke cover
and, screaming, ran toward us.
The hillmen never attacked in an army, we'd been told, because
they were too independent, with no minor chieftain willing to give
up his small authority for any reason, even the finest of loot. But
as with everything else in the Border States,
r * this law was only sometimes a truth, because now the Men of
die Hills came at us in close-ranked battalions.
All we had was a few moments to get the civilians to the far side
of the road and down.
From somewhere I felt energy surge, and tore away that stinking
robe and the headcover that made me look like a beldam, and
shouted for my Lancers to turn to.
Other officers and warrants found hidden strength, and the sorry
remnants of a company of the Khurram Light Infantry and
Cheetah Troop, Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers, formed what
would be our last battle line.
"Wait for them," Bikaner was bellowing from the rear. "Let them
get close or I'll have th' hide of anyone wastin' a shaft."
The first wave of screaming tribesmen rose before us, and bows
thwacked and arrows buried themselves in their targets.
The hillman hesitated, took a second volley, and fell back.
Another wave charged through their ranks, and they were hit by
our arrows, but had too much momentum.
We cast our bows aside, and they were on us, and the world
was a whirling mass of blood and steel. I cut a hillman's legs
from under him, parried a slash at my head and impaled the man
who'd made it, spun, brushing a spear-thrust away with an arm,
feeling another spear clang against my armor, slashed at that
man without knowing if I hit him, then felt a searing burn as a
blade cut into my upper thigh.
Then there was no one to kill, and the tribesmen were ululating
their war cry as they fell back.
I looked down at my wound. It was not severe, but it was gory. I
looked around for something to tear up as a bandage, and Karjan
was there, with a strip of dirty cloth, winding it around my pants
leg.
Another charge came, but this one we drove back with arrows.
The tribesmen pulled back, shocked by their heavy losses, and
gave us time to confer.
We were in little better shapeóthe road was littered with dead.
Tenedos was beside me.
"What can I do?"
"Give me a spell that... no. Magic later. Go down the column and
get all the civilians forward."
Tenedos was about to ask why, then remembered the way of a
soldier, clamped his lips closed, and hurried off.
Captain Mellet came up beside me. We looked off, across the
valley. Even through the drifting snow it was easy to see there
were many, many hillmen out there.
"Well," Mellet said, "I've killed my ten, but it looks like we've got
some slackers. I guess we'll have to go for twenty or thirty each,
eh?"
That brought a smile from me. Mellet looked around to make
sure no one was in earshot.
"I don't suppose you have anything resembling a plan, Legate?"
"The best I have, sir, is to put the civilians ahead of us, try to
keep them moving, and we'll hold them from the rear."
"All the way to Renan?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"I do." Mellet sighed. "But it's not that much better. The problem
is, there's a small matter called death that keeps intruding."
He explained his plan. It wasn't much superior to mine, but it did
offer a chance.
"As I said," he finished, "it's either some deaths, or everybody's.
Most likely it'll be everybody's regardless. For some reason they
didn't use magic this time, but I know they'll set their gods-
damned jasks on us when they attack next."
The civilians were moving now, coming past us, stumbling, some
crying. I saw Jacoba, Allori with her, and managed a smile.
I explained to Tenedos what the infantry captain proposed.
"I do not like it," he said.
"You do not have to like it, Resident-General," Captain Mellet
said formally. "We are now dealing with matters in our area of
supposed expertise. I mean no disrespect, but if you * have a
demon or two up your sleeve that could turn the tide, now would
be an ideal time to produce him, and I'll shut up with a smile."
Tenedos looked at him, and his expression was sad. "I can offer
but three spells," he said. "None of them can prevent the
sacrifice. One may reduce the potency of whatever magic they
plan to use. I imagine they used none this last time because of
the arrogance of their chiefs, who sought to conquer with only
steel and cunning. "I can probably stop mat "The other two... I'd
best prepare them now." He hurried away. In a few minutes, he
was ready with his apparatus. The first spell was a weather spell,
meant to do no more than increase the strength of the storm.
This sounds bizarre, but it could well be vital in our escape.
The second spell was the one against the jasks. I do not know
what it was, nor if it worked. As for the third...
Captain Mellet paraded his men on the road. We had archers out
on the flanks, to make sure the hillmen wouldn't seize the
moment and rush us. I thought they were waiting for dusk, to use
the gathering darkness as a shield for their final assault But we
still had three hours of light before then.
It tore my heart to see the sorry remnants of his company trying
to stand at attention. There'd been of them in Renan. Now, there
were no more than fifty, and many of them were wounded.
"Men of the Khurram light Infantry," Captain Mellet began. "When
we took our oath, we swore to serve until death. This is our day.
"This is the time for our final gift to our fellows, the men and
women of Numantia we vowed to die for.
" "That others may live' is a saying I've heard now and again. I
cannot think of a better one to light our way back to die Wheel.
"I choose to make my stand here in mis valley. Those who wish
to fulfill their vows... join me now."
The warrants and two surviving legates were the first to cross to
him. Then the privates followed, first by ones and twos, then in a
stream. At the end, there were only three foot soldiers standing
by themselves, shamefaced.
"Very well," Captain Mellet said, and his voice held no anger or
scorn. "You have found your vows too heavy. I release you from
them. Put down your weapons and go with the civilians, and obey
all orders they give you."
One man did just that, but the other two looked at each other and
hurried over to where their fellows stood.
"The Khurram Light Infantry will form up," Captain Mellet shouted.
I saw something wonderful then. There were seriously wounded
KLI men who'd been in the wagons that'd gone past us. Now I
saw some of them coming back, hobbling toward us, the blind
led by the halt, a man with but one arm and a wounded leg using
his sword as a crutch. We tried to argue, but none of them would
listen, and so we let these bravest of the brave join their fellows.
Tenedos was ready with the final spell, and he anointed each KLI
man in turn.
We moved off, just as the magically enhanced storm roared in.
We moved as fast as we could, in the strangest order
imaginable. At our front were ten lancers, then the civilians and
the wagons. The Lancers were behind them, in mass, and to the
rear, the KLI.
We'd marched only a few hundred yards when our movement
was seen, and the hillmen rushed once more. But they'd made
no plans and the attack was ragged and easily driven back.
They tried again, and then we were at the end of the valley.
"The Khurram Light Infantry will take battle positions," Captain
Mellet shouted, and the foot soldiers spread out, across the
narrows.
"Legate & Comabue," he shouted. 'Tell mem in Numantia of us!
'Tell them there are still men on the Frontiers who know how to
die!"
He saluted, and I ordered my Lancers to attention and returned
the salute, unashamed tears cutting through the dirt on my
cheeks.
Then we marched away, through the pass.
The third spell Tenedos had cast was to make the foot soldiers
feel little pain, so they could be struck and struck again and still
fight on.
I heard battle begin behind us, and I began praying, to Isa, to
Panoan, even to Saionji herself, to grant them an easy return to
the Wheel and elevation to the highest in their next life.
The Khurram Light Infantry's last battle was still raging when we
went out of earshot.
The tempest crashed around us as we went on and on. We
stopped for a few hours to rest and eat. Now there was more
than enough room on the wagons. Seer Tenedos examined my
wound closely. "A nice clean slash." He muttered a spell over it
"This takes its strength from your own body's reserves. If you
were old and feeble, it would be like a vampire on your energy,
but you've got more than enough to spare."
There were no more enemies with swords. Now our foes were
the cold, the wind, the wet, and they slew as gleefully as the
bloodiest-handed hillman.
I found Jacoba and Allori, and mounted them on Lucan. I walked
beside them, at the head of the column.
Behind me were the Seer Tenedos and Lance Karjan. I never
saw either of them stumble or weaken as we went on and on, the
road winding through the cliffs close on either side.
We stopped somewhere, ate, and, I suppose, slept for a while,
then went on.
I was moving numbly, limping, holding my last reserves close,
knowing there could well be a final battle before we reached the
end of Sulem Pass. In my heart, I felt we were lost, doomed.
None of us would ever reach the flatlands and the safety of Urey.
I looked up once at Jacoba, and could barely recognize her,
a scarf pulled close around her face, ice caked on the shoulders
of her coat.
Allori was a small bundle of woolens sitting in front of her. I saw a
wisp of blond hair from under her cap and with fumbling frozen
fingers tucked it back. The little girl said something, I guess it
was thanks, but the wind blew her words away. We went on.
I don't know how long the snow had stopped before I noticed it,
but all at once there was no knife-wind cutting me. It was a
miracle.
A second miracle came. The rock walls closed in, until they were
cliffs only a few hundred feet apart. Then they were gone, and
the land was flat around us.
We were on the far side of Sulem Pass. We were beyond Kait,
beyond the Border States. We had reached Urey. I felt life, and
hope, surge.
I looked back. There was a line of staggering men and women
behind me, and behind them, wagons and then, to the rear,
ragged men who were Cheetah Troop, Seventeenth Ure-yan
Lancers.
I tried to smile, and felt the skin of my cheeks crack. I caught up
with Lucan. "We're safe!" I shouted.
Jacoba pulled her scarf aside, and looked at me, numbly at first,
then my words penetrated. She gave Allori a hug. "We're alive!"
she said, her voice as shattered as mine.
But there was no response from the little girl. Her head was sunk
on her chest, her eyes shut. I pulled her cap off, held the back of
my hand in front of her nostrils.
A single snowflake fell on my hand and stayed there, not melting.
Allori Pares had died, without our realizing it, within the hour.
My triumph was ashes.
THIRTEEN Jacoba I he crew had barely set the long
houseboat's two I anchors when dark clouds raced across the
sun, and a JL freezing rain shattered the lake's mirror.
I sprawled on pillows covered with silk and furs in an open
pavilion on the boat's top deck, wearing nothing but a long kilt
loosely tied at the waist. But I felt no cold: The four sides of the
pavilion were covered with a marvelous witch-spelled fabric, a
thin cloth as clear as glass that blocked the winter's chill, and an
open fire of sweet-smelling woods burned to one side.
It was midmorning, and there were no other boats on the lake,
since the Tune of Heat was the most popular season for these
craft, not midwinter. The crew, twenty-five strong, had gone into
their own below-deck quarters when they were satisfied the boat
was secure and we lacked for nothing. If we wished anything
more, I had but to ring the small bell set on a table nearby.
There was a pewter mug of a warm, dark drink infused with
spices beside me. I sipped, then continued staring at the lake.
The cold and pain of the long flight from Sayana drained, and
warmth crept into my bones.
"Is this what I was wearing in your dream?" Jacoba asked.
She wore a long robe with a high collar that cradled her smiling
face like a loving hand, and then reached to the rugs on the
boat's deck. But it was hardly modest, since it was made of a
diaphanous black material that hid nothing from the dark are-olae
around her nipples to the tuft of hair at her sex.
"Not quite," I said. "Nothing so virginal."
"Then away with it," and she slipped her shoulders back, and the
robe fell away to pool around her ankles.
She stretched one foot out, as graceful as a dancer, and ran it up
my inner thigh, lifting my kilt.
"In your dream, what did I do?"
"Uhh, you strangled me."
"Nothing before that?"
"There were some... goings-on I seem to recollect," I said.
"In my dream," she said, her voice becoming throaty, "here is
what I recollect doing."
She knelt, untied my kilt, and pulled it away. Her tongue traced
the ridge of my cock, then she took me into the warmth of her
mouth.
"What you're doing ... meets with my own memories," I managed.
Her tongue caressed me for a few moments more.
"Next, this is what happened," she said, and, as in my own
dream, she bestrode me and I thrust into her. Her hands
caressed my chest as we rose and fell, her long black hair
brushing my face. Her sighs came closer together, and merged
with my own harsh breathing, and then she cried out once, twice,
three times, as I drove hard and then we collapsed on our sides
as we died the small death.
It had not always been like this. __ We'd marched only a few
miles from the mouth of the pass when a roving patrol of the
Tenth Hussars came across our column. Their commander
wanted us to stop where we were and they'd ride for help. But all
of us were obsessed with one thing: to get as far away from the
nightmare of Sulem Pass and the Border States as we could,
and so we kept moving. I
learned later the legate in charge of the patrol drove his men at
full gallop to the nearest heliograph tower, and that day word of
the tragedy went out to all Numantia.
When we stopped that night near a small settlement, villagers
came out to help, to do what they could, bringing warm food,
firewood, tents, and blankets. All that night wagons arrived with
more comforts from Renan and the other cities of Urey. When
we moved on late the next morning, none of us were afoot. I was
particularly grateful to be able to ride Lucan again, since my leg
was throbbing and stiff.
But men and women kept dying from wounds, cold,
exhaustionóanother thirty of us returned to the Wheel before we
reached Renan.
A small part of me wished to curl in a ball and sleep forever, but I
could not. There were Lancers to take care of, and Numantians
to be responsible for. My discipline held me in a mailed fist.
We were met by a host of dignitaries outside the city, and told we
were granted the honors of Renan, and all Urey was honored to
provide all we neededóshelter, food, anythingó until we
recovered.
We listened numbly, not knowing what to make of anything.
I myself had expected to be met with by the provost and
arrested. I considered my performance the most dismal of
failures. I'd left Renan with about soldiers, including the
company of KLI. There were only six of the foot soldiers still
alive, only because they were too sore wounded to climb out of
the sick-carts and join their fellows. Of the Lancers I'd ridden so
proudly away from Mehul with, sixty-five were left, and most of
them were sick or wounded. Of the others, about half of
Tenedos's staff lived, and only one-third of the Numantians we'd
tried to rescue. If there was a bright note, it was that only one of
Yonge's hillmen had been killed in the flight. To me, this was dark
catastrophe.
Yet when we rode through the gates of Renan, it was as heroes.
The city had declared a holiday, and the lamp standards
and flagpoles of the city fluttered with bright banners, and the
streets were lined with cheering men and women.
I felt I'd never been party to such a fraud. I suppose Tene-dos
guessed what I was thinking, because he issued orders that no
soldier was to talk to anyone, not officials, not cityfolk, not
inquirers from the broadsheets.
We were quartered in a huge palace on a lake, each of us with
his own room.
Luxurious sprung wagons arrived for my Lancers, to return them
to Mehul, but they refused. They'd ridden out on horseback, and
they'd return the same way.
I'd wanted to return with them, and bury myself in the safe routine
of garrison duties, but Tenedos's orders had been very firm: I
was, by the gods, assigned to him until otherwise ordered, and
there had been no orders, so my duty was clear.
I was presented with an oilskin pouch by the young legate who
was to take the men back to Mehul. I thought him young, even
though he was slightly older than I was. I thought the last of my
youth burned away by the horror of KaiL There were other
surprises to come, but none as great as what the pouch
contained. It was a single sheet of parchment, containing but one
sentence:
Legate Damastes d Cimabue:
I find that your performance commanding Cheetah Troop to be in
the highest tradition of the Seventeenth Lancers.
It was signed by Domina Herstal.
To a civilian, that sounds like nothing, but to a soldier in a unit with
as high a standard as the Lancers, there could be no greater
praise. But I still did not believe it.
I showed the dispatch to Tenedos, and he nodded. "It is but a
beginning, Damastes." I had no idea what he was talking about.
I bade Bikaner and the others farewell, and do not know how I
was able to keep from crying like a child. I said some words,
which were completely inadequate, and wondered if f> any of
them knew how much they meant to me, and how they would
always hold a place in my heart. I thought I saw Troop Guide
Bikaner swallow convulsively when I saluted them, and Lance
Karjan seemed to have acquired a cold, because he kept
blowing his nose as the last of Cheetah Troop went slowly out of
the gate.
I returned to the quarters I'd been assigned, rooms even more
palatial than those I'd had in Sayana. Not that it matteredóI would
have been as happy, or unhappy, in a single-room hovel.
Sitting on the floor just inside the door were two small cases and
on the bed was Jacoba.
I made myself smile politely, and asked her how I could serve
her.
She looked deep into my eyes, then shook her head, as if not
finding something she'd been expecting. Finally, she said, "In the
pass, we talked about how I might repay you for saving me,
about what might happen... if we lived."
I remembered, but said nothing. For some reason, I felt a bit of
not-rational anger. All I wished was to be left alone, and it
seemed that wish would never be granted. "Is this Tenedos's
idea?"
Anger flashed in her eyes, she began to snap an answer, then
caught herself.
"Laish Tenedos pays my wages to make his desserts. No more."
She stood. "Do you wish me to leave?"
I almost said yes. But there was one tiny bit of sense left, and I
shook my head. She put her hand on my shoulder. After a
moment, I put my hand over hers.
I felt little hunger, but forced myself to go to one of the dining
halls and have a bit of soup. Then I walked in one of the gardens,
not feeling the chill for the greater cold within, until it was quite
late.
Jacoba was already in the great bed, carefully curled to one side.
I undressed as quietly as I knew how, and slipped in beside her,
lying on my side. I felt no passion, no lust, not much of anything
in particular.
Her hand touched my bandaged leg, then moved up to my back
and caressed it, not so much sensual as reassuring. But the ice
within me was too thick, and after a moment she sighed and
rolled over. After a time her breathing became regular, and after
a longer time, I slept.
The next day, Tenedos summoned me. "You remember I said
yesterday that your congratulations from your domina was just the
beginning?" He held up a sheaf of dispatches. "Here are special
orders, sent by heliograph. You and I, and my staff and some of
those who were with us on the terrible journey from Sayana, are
requested by the Rule of Ten to attend them immediately, and
give them a full accounting of the evils worked on Numantians by
the barbarians of the Border States.
"We are to await the arrival of the paddleship Tauler, which will be
dispatched within a few days," he went on, half-reading, "during
which time we are to gather our strength and enjoy the comforts
the city leaders of Renan have been directed to provide.
"Then we are to proceed directly to Nicias and await their
pleasure." He looked up. 'This is where it shall start, my friend.
They thought they were sending me into exile or perhaps my
death, but Saionji wanted something else.
"Now they shall be forced to listen to me and realize the time has
come for change.
"I tell you, Damastes, none of those who died with us died in vain
if it brings about the great renaissance I've dreamt of." He stood
and paced back and forth excitedly. "Yes, I can sense it, I can
feel it. This is the beginning."
I found polite words, but felt no inner thrill. But if Laish Tenedos,
the Seer Tenedos, wished me to accompany him to Nicias, that
was as good a place as any. Why not? Far from these
mountains, perhaps the ice would melt. But it did not take that
long.
That night, both Jacoba and I walked through the gardens. It was
cold, and we wore heavy cloaks. We found ourselves standing
side by side under one of the huge trees of Urey. Even X, though
it was the Time of Storms, the monstrous multicolored leaves still
clung to the branches. A few feet from us was one of the many
sculptures the palace's gardens were filled with. I paid it little
mind.
Jacoba lithely pulled herself up onto a thick branch that curled a
few feet above the ground, so her eyes were at the same height
as mine.
The night was sharp and clear. I looked out at the mountains, the
awful peaks that marked the border to the Border States.
As I watched, a shimmer grew on them, the borealis. Someone
spoke to me, a voice of thunder, a voice of silence, and perhaps
it was the voice of a goddess, perhaps the voice of a little girl.
Perhaps it came from the gods, perhaps from my good, hard
common sense.
What the voice said was not in words, but it was very clear.
The world is death, the world is nothing but pain and a desperate
fight to avoid returning to the Wheel, and then an equally
headlong rush to be taken by it.
If that is how you choose to see it that is the way life is and
always shall be, the voice went on. But do you think Captain
Mellet and his men wanted death? Didn't they want life, want
warmth, love, and the giggling embrace of a woman?
So Saionji took them, took them and the girl Allori. Does she
also now own you?
"No," I said, and wasn't aware I'd spoken aloud, vehemently, until
Jacoba said "What?" in a startled manner.
"I'm sorry," I said, and turned away from the mountains and death
and realized she was very close. Her lips were parted, and her
breath was very sweet.
It seemed appropriate to kiss her, and so I did. Her arms
fumbled for a moment, then found the entrance to my cloak and
pulled me closer to her. I kissed her again, a very long kiss.
"I'm back," I said.
Somehow she understood, or appeared to.
"That's good."
I opened my cloak so it covered us both and we held each
other, me standing, her on the branch, for a very long time,
without moving. I kissed her once more, and her legs came
around me, and took me into another embrace.
It was warm, comforting, welcoming me, and I felt my spirits lift.
Jacoba giggled.
"What's funny?" I asked.
"That statue."
I peered at it through the gloom, and was grateful for the
darkness. I still had some innocence. The stone showed some
god loving a nymph. He held her lifted above the ground, hands
cupped around her buttocks, her legs wrapped around him, and
on both their faces were expressions of goatish glee.
"What's funny about it?"
"You know a man carved it."
"How can you tell?" I wondered. "Other than it's, uh, fairly exact."
"Ah, my handsome young cavalryman, but that's where you're
wrong. It's not exact at all."
"Why not?'
"Men aren't that strong," she said. "At least not for very long. If
anybody... even a god... tried to make love like that, he'd be sure
to fall. Probably on her, too."
"Ah-hah," I said. "Further proof, my pastry chef, you should stick
to matters of the kitchen, and not theorize wildly."
"Prove I am wrong," she said. "That is, if your leg is up to it."
"It's not my leg that's up," I murmured, as my hands slid beneath
her cloak, and lifted her tunic, and her small breasts sprang
against my palms, nipples hard and firm. I massaged them, while
my lips sought hers, then kissed down the silk of her neck. Her
breath came faster against my ear.
She wore some sort of belted kirtle, and her hands unfastened it
and pulled it away, then busied themselves with the ties of my
trousers.
I moved both my hands down her sides and across her stomach,
fingers entering and gently caressing her. "Sat gasped *
pleasure. I slid my hands under her thighs and picked her up
from the branch. Her hand held my cock steady, and I let her slip
down onto me, and she shuddered as I drove deep, breath
shrilling, gasping and then she buried her shriek into the wool of
my cloak as I shuddered and spasmed inside her.
We stood like that forever.
Then she murmured, "You cheated. You used the branch for a
brace."
So I had, holding her against the tree as we drove together.
"You still haven't proved you were right," she said.
Still inside her, I lifted her away from the tree and carefully knelt,
until she lay on her cloak, mine serving as blanket. I felt myself
growing strong, and moved within her. Her legs slid up around my
waist and she lifted against me.
When we came back into the palace it was very late, and I was
very glad no one was about, for we looked exactly like what we
were, with damp leaves everywhere and clothes muddied in the
most obvious places.
I was back from that dark realm of death and ice.
I sought Tenedos out the next morning to apologize as subtly as
I could for not showing the proper enthusiasm for our summons
to Nicias.
"The very man I was about to look up," he said heartily before I
could speak. 'Tell me, Damastes, poor lad, do you feel sick?"
"Not at all, sir."
"Oh dear," he said. "The disease you have is truly dreadful, since
one of the signs is the carrier is unaware of his state."
I noted the smile on his face, and waited. I was becoming
accustomed to Tenedos's way of dealing with matters.
"So I am sick, sir. Why?"
"Sit down, and I'll explain. What do you think will happen when we
reach Nicias?"
I thought about it for a few moments. "Forgive me if I sound like a
fool, sir. But I'd guess that the Rule of Ten want us to testify as to
what happened."
"Of course. So they said in their orders. What comes next?"
"Now I'm using some of what you told me, about them wanting to
settle the Border States, and using you as a pretext for action. I'd
guess they'll mobilize the army and, as soon as the Tune of
Dews permits campaigning, march south against Kait.
"As for us ... well, I suppose I'll return to the Lancers, and you'll
do whatever you want."
"Let's ignore us for the moment and go back to the former
matter. Before this morning, I would have agreed with you as to
the Rule of Ten's intents. But I breakfasted with the domina of
the Twentieth Heavy Cavalry this morning."
The Twentieth, the Lancers, and the Tenth Hussars were the
three elite formations responsible for keeping peace along the
border.
"I imagined," Tenedos continued, "that he would have been
alerted to such a plan, or do I still not understand the military
mind?"
"No, sir. You're correct. Of course the Rule of Ten would send
some sort of confidential missive to him, since his unit should be
one of the first to take the field. If I were planning the campaign
I'd use the Lancers to drive through Sulem Pass and the
Twentieth to hold it, so soldiery from the flatlands could enter Kait
with the fewest possible casualties."
"Well, he's heard nothing. I gently sounded him about the matter,
and he was most surprised he'd not been alerted, given what
happened to us."
Anger flooded me. "Are you saying the Rule of Ten won't do
anything?"
"I'm afraid that may be exactly what will happen. They'll be terribly
outraged at the horror of it all, and then send some sort of
threatening note, which Achim Fergana will ignore, and life will
continue."
"Son of a bitch!" I said.
"Yes. I've often thought of our rulers in similar words."
"What about the Tovieti? What about Thak?"
"Ignore it and it shall go away. They've ruled Numantia for * !
generations with that policy. Why should things be different
now?"
Tenedos still smiled, but his expression was utterly humorless. I
controlled myself. Very well. If that was to happen, I was a
soldier, and I would continue to serve. Politics were not my affair.
"What does this have to do with my being sick?"
"After I returned from my meal with the good domina, I
considered the options. What I need is time, time to send some
dispatches north."
"As you did when we recovered the dolls?"
"Exactly. Perhaps if I sound our horn quite loudly it shall be
impossible to mute when we arrive in person. So I sent a
message north to the Rule of Ten just an hour ago that you had
fallen ill. I said that we would be delayed for a week, and
apologized for the delay. Certainly I could not entertain the notion
of coming without you, since you have knowledge of important
military matters far beyond my ken, so the Tattler's passage can
be put off for a few days."
The anger ebbed, and I grinned.
"Just how sick am I to be while you're being a one-man
symphony?"
"Quite invisibly ill."
He handed me an envelope.
"You mentioned once, back in Sayana, that you wished to spend
time on one of the Ureyan houseboats. Well, it is not spring nor
summer, but arrangements have been made."
"May I ask a favor, sir?"
"You need not," he said. "That also has been taken care of. I
guess I can live without my desserts for a week." He looked
down at his body, which was regaining its former sleekness.
"Someone commented last night I was putting on weight. I
suspect she prefers the emaciated look, but be that as it may.
"I want you to perform your disappearing act within the hour.
There shall be an ambulance at the rear entrance to the palace to
take you and Jacoba to your 'hospital.' "
I saluted him, and hurried off.
Jacoba had already gotten the message, and her case was
packed. I'd seen her open but one, and asked her, as I rolled my
kit, what was in the other.
"My cooking tools."
"Those two cases ate all you own?"
"All I wish to, right now. When the time comes to own other
things, I shall know it, I believe. But at the moment I prefer to
travel fast and quickly."
The week on the lavish houseboat floated past easily and quickly.
I'm afraid we didn't avail ourselves of many of the services that
were available. The lavish meals were all too often eaten cold,
the moment having seized us. Since Jacoba was not much more
fond of drink than I, the expensive wines went untasted. Nor did
we see much of the winter splendor of the lake, even though the
crew moved us every day from place to place.
What we did was make love. Sometimes it was carefully planned,
a building crescendo in one of the luxurious bedchambers. But it
was as likely to be a sudden burst of passion.
Once, when we'd sent throw rugs and a small table flying, Jacoba
murmured afterward, her head against my chest, that whoever
owned the boat would have to have it most thoroughly cleaned,
since every room now smelled of nothing but musk and semen.
"Or, perhaps he'll leave it as it is, and try to find for his next client
some rich old fool with a young wife who wishes some
aphrodisiacal assistance."
I said I was delighted to be doing such an altruistic service, but
that her knee was digging into my side, and could she move a
little?
"I could," she said. 'Tell me how. Should we consider whether my
heels would fit comfortably behind your neck?"
I said I thought that could be a marvelous experiment, and the
world swam away yet again.
"I think I need a vacation from our vacation," I murmured as we
left our carriage and reentered the palace.
"Weakling," Jacoba said. "I've been looking forward to getting
back, and having a few hours to show these foolish Ureyans a
sabayon is not a custard." Her superior had not survived the
journey from Sayana, and so Jacoba had been promoted to his
place.
Resident-General Tenedos found me in my rooms, where I was
contemplating a nap. I'd found that the Tauler had not arrived,
although it was expected momentarily.
"My sorcery says you are most miraculously healed," he
congratulated me.
"You appear most jovial, sir," I said. "I am, I am. I have had some
response to the small missives I sent to Nicias that suggest the
Rule of Ten may not commit its usual vacillations after our
testimony, although I frankly believe cowardice will always out."
"What happens if it does?" I asked. "I'd hate to think my men and
the others died in vain."
"Damastes, don't ever think that The battlefield is always
changing. If it is not fought here, well then, it shall be mounted on
another day, in another place.
"History cannot be turned back on itself, which the Rule of Ten
do not know as yet.
"My day is drawing very near. Which is why I wished to speak to
you. I've considered how we should appear once we reach
Nicias, and think it would be best if we appear most wonderful
and exotic.
'To that end, I sought our hillman Yonge, who is making a most
disgusting satyr of himself in the whorehouses of this city. I think
the harlots were glad to see his back.
"He was delighted at the thought of accompanying us on our
journey, especially when I told him he was to be assigned directly
to you. He's quite determined to copy your style of leading, for
which I wish him nothing but luck."
Tenedos's light tone vanished. 'Til also be taking four of the
poor foot soldiers with us. Perhaps when the Rule of Ten see
these men who've given an arm, a leg, or an eye they might be
less likely to pass the matter off with an empty threat"
Tenedos took a deep breath, visibly forcing a change of mood.
"I've also written a letter to your domina, and he agreed that
certain of the soldiers in Cheetah Troop could be detached to
join us.
"I'll welcome your suggestions. Remember, we wish men who'll
be very colorful, sending the starkness of the Frontiers deep into
the hearts of these city men. And wasn't that a well-turned
phrase?"
I thought.
"Lance Karjan ... the one who was your bodyguard in the pass. I'd
also be very pleased to have Troop Guide Bikaner," I said, "but I
doubt if the domina will give him up. Besides, he'll be busy
rebuilding Cheetah Troop up from fresh recruits.
"The archer, Curti, although I'd take him more for his talents than
appearance. If I'm allowed one other, that gaur who walks on two
legs, Svalbard.
"Maybe if we can't get the Rule to listen, we can turn him loose
with a bludgeon and let him provide his own brand of logical
convincement."
"Careful, Legate," Tenedos warned. "You're spending too much
time around me. You're starting to sound positively treasonous."
I grinned. "One question, sir. Who are you taking to provide this,
umm, color you seem to think is vital?"
"Why I'm surprised," Tenedos said. "First, a sorcerer worth his
potions needs no outside bullshit to baffle.
"Secondly, Damastes, what do you think you are?"
A day later the Tauler churned its way to the docks in Urey. It was
decked with bunting from stem to stern, and a band played gaily
on its foredeck.
Its officers and crew were uniformed, and the ship shone as if it
had just been launched.
There were barely seventy of us to make the journey, less than a
quarter of the usual complement of passengers. The * Tauler
was to be ours exclusively, and we were told again and again that
anything we wished would be provided for, nothing could be too
great for the heroes of the Border States. I tried to lead Lucan
and Rabbit aboard myself, and I thought the hostler would die of
shame. I tried to give him a coin, and he was even more
shocked.
Two stewards led me to my cabin, which was on the top deck of
the paddle wheeler, its large portholes looking directly over the
ship's bows. There were three rooms, a bedchamber, a sitting
room, and an enormous bathchamber. There were four
attendants whose sole duty was keeping me happy. I wondered
what the suite cost in normal circumstances and shook my head.
I would most likely have to loot an entire province to afford it.
The Seer Tenedos had his cabin across the passageway. Its
door stood open, and I noted three young women making
themselves easy within. The first was one of the women who'd
shared his bed in Sayana, the others were maidens he'd met in
Renan. One I'd been introduced to as the daughter of one of that
city's elders. The city had given its all to make us happy.
As for me, I had Jacoba, and wanted nothing more. She
bounced twice, experimentally, on the springs of the large bed.
"I wonder what my mother would say if she could see me now,"
she said.
"Perhaps... shameless doxy?"
"Not likely, since she was kept by one of our district's counselors,
and she told me she was never quite sure who my father was,
other than he was certainly not that old lecher.
"She'd most likely be proud of me," Jacoba went on, "and tell me
to not waste a single second of this time."
She unstrapped her sandals, kicked them off, and leaned back
on the bed, bringing one knee up and letting it fall to the side and
sliding her dress up over her bare, brown thighs.
"Come here, Damastes," she murmured. "I always listened to my
mother's advice."
**
Sometimes we had our meals sent to the cabin, sometimes we
went to the dining room, so Jacoba could evaluate the wares of
her competitors and, she added, "steal any ideas worth the
thieving." I used the excuse of letting my wound heal, although,
thanks mostly to Tenedos's magic, my leg was nearly completely
mended.
Seer Tenedos also held to his cabin for most of the journey, and
when he did appear his three women danced close attendance
on him. I was amusedóthey behaved like pheasant hens doting
on their cock at the start of mating season.
I did encounter him alone late one night.
He was leaning on the top deck's railing, staring back at our
wake. I could tell he had been drinking, although his speech was
unslurred.
We talked of this and that, then, without preamble, he said,
"Are you ready to go back?" "Back where?"
"Into Kait. But not as a legate, and not at the head of a single
troop of cavalry."
I looked at him curiously. Perhaps part of me never wanted to
see that country again, not its sere peaks, not its dry deserts, and
above all not its treacherous, deadly people. But I knew that was
where my duty lay, and most likely the rest of my career would be
spun out in the Border States. "Of course, sir."
Tenedos nodded once, as if that was the answer he'd expected,
and walked off, without saying good night.
I stared after him. Suddenly I had questions that I'd not be able
to ask him on the morrow when he was sober, and I'd missed my
chance now.
How would he be able to decide what rank I might gain, let alone
what commands I might have?
I wondered then, and have wondered many times since, if being
a seer does allow a slight glimpse into the future. Or was
Tenedos merely speaking from his own soaring ambition?
**
fi "I don't think I can come anymore," Jacoba whispered.
"I know I can't."
"Where'd the pillow go?"
"It's right over... no. It got kicked to the floor. With the blankets.
Here."
I kissed her soft wetness once more, then turned end for end
and lay beside her. She put her head on my shoulder. I stroked
her back sleepily.
"What happens," I said, after a time, "when we reach Nicias?"
Jacoba moved away, and rolled onto her stomach.
"You mean with us?"
"Yes."
Jacoba took a deep breath. "Don't misunderstand me,
Damastes, but 'us' stops when we get to the city."
I was suddenly completely awake, feeling the world shudder
around me, although to be honest I'd wondered how our affair
would continue. Having little money, I wouldn't be able to afford
to find her apartments during my stay in Nicias. When I returned
to the Lancers, there'd be no place for her, and I doubted she'd
want to leave the capital for a staid, sleepy garrison town. Even if
I wished to wed, which I certainly did not at this time, legates are
not permitted to marry save under the most extraordinary
circumstances. And I could hardly expect her to find living
quarters on Rotten Row as a poverty-stricken officer's mistress.
"Can I ask why?"
"There's not anyone else," she said. "There hasn't been since
before I took the job with Tenedos. And it's not that I don't... care
about you. Maybe I even love you, although I'm not sure what the
word means, really."
"Then where's the problem?"
"The problem is Seer Tenedos," she said. "Let me tell you
something about myself. I'm not very adventurous."
"Of course you aren't," I said. 'That's why you took a nice, safe
job making sweets for a magician in the Border States."
"There was a bad time in my life then. Something... some-
* body that meant a lot to me turned out to be different than I
thought. And I'd been cooking in the same damned place for
almost three years, working for a pig who'd never teach me his
secrets and ordered me around like I was his bonded slave.
"I heard about the position and applied for it. I guess I thought
there'd be something glamorous, going to a faraway land, living in
a mansion, and making the daintiest of morsels for noblemen
and diplomats. Instead..." She laughed ruefully. "No. This has
been enough adventure for the rest of my life.
"Let me tell you what my dream is, Damastes. I want, someday,
to own my own restaurant. Not a big one, and not in the center of
a city. Somewhere on the outskirts, near some rich estates.
"I'll have customers who don't mind paying for the best, but
whose palates aren't sophisticated enough to tell when the
meringue's a little scorched.
"As for a man, I'd want someone who's steady. Loyal. Good
enough in bed. A nice man who won't get tired of me, or mind if I
get a little fat.
"Children, maybe three or four.
"A nice quiet life, where the biggest dramas are whether the
oysters are delivered on time, or if the melon has gone bad, or
stopping little Fredrik from pushing his sister into the water barrel.
"Is that the life you want, Damastes?"
I was silent.
"Of course not," she went on. "I can feel greatness. Laish
Tenedos will be a great man, greater than he is today. Whether
he accomplishes all his dreams ... I don't know. I'm not sure
there are any limits to what he wants.
"As for you, well, I can see you tall, dignified, perhaps a bit of
gray at your temples. A general of cavalry, respected by his
country. Perhaps a count, with great estates and a beautiful lady
waiting for you at one of your mansions.
"Perhaps you would go for a ride one day, with your staff, and
stop by a humble inn for your midday meal.
"I wonder if we would recognize each other?"
"That makes me feel very sad," I said quietly.
"Why should it? We are as Umar made us, we strive to fulfill what
Irisu wishes us to become, and we fight as best we can against
Saionji as she destroys us. Then, at the end, we welcome her
embrace, return to the Wheel, and she grants us rebirth.
"What can be sad about that?"
The right words took a while to form.
"It's sad," I said finally, "because I want to think we're more than
small helpless beings on a treadmill."
"Of course you do," she said. "And that's why you'll be a general,
and I'll be an innkeeper.
"But enough of that. We've still almost a week before we reach
Nicias." She yawned. "Do me a favor. Get the oil from that stand,
and rub it into my back before we go to sleep. My skin's terribly
dry."
I obeyed, poured some of the oil, which smelled of orange
blossoms, onto my hand, and slowly, gently, began rubbing it
across her shoulder blades and then lower and lower still.
After a time she said, "You have a very loose idea of just where
my back is." Her breath caught sharply. "That is certainly not my
back."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Oh no. Put another finger in me. No. Back there. Yes.
Deeper. Oh gods. Oh, Jaen."
She moaned. I rubbed oil on my cock, rose to my knees, slipped
the pillow from under her head, rolled it into a cylinder and
slipped it just under her pelvis. I moved between her thighs, as
she opened them. I caressed her sex with the head of my cock
from its beginnings to where it ended, once, twice, three times,
then slipped it between her buttocks and touched her tight
rosebud.
"There," I whispered. "Do you want me there?"
"Oh yes," she said. "Yes. There. In me. Now, Damastes, now!"
I pushed, and there was resistance, then her ring relaxed, then
clenched firm as I slipped into warmth. I cared nothing
more about Nicias, generals, or anything else as we spun higher
and higher into the heavens.
Every boat that had ever been built came to meet us as the
Tauler thrashed its way up to the flag-bedecked dock. People
were cheering, blowing whistles and horns, beating on drums.
There were more organized bands ashore, each playing a
different melody, although as we neared shore they reached
some kind of agreement and broke into the Numantian anthem.
Unfortunately none of them began at the same moment nor in the
same key, so the cheery cacophony continued.
All of Nicias was behind the rope barricades at the end of the
dock, barely held back by a cordon of brightly uniformed
cavalrymen. These were the Golden Helms of Nicias, parade
soldiers whose panoply was reserved for the greatest events.
The twin gangplanks banged down, and the crowd bellowed. I
thought the line of soldiers would give way, and wondered if our
fate was to be trampled in reverent honor.
Jacoba stood beside me, her two cases at her feet.
"Well," I began, looking for exactly the right words.
Jacoba put her arms around me, kissed me once, then pulled
free from my embrace.
She picked up her cases and ran swiftly up the gangway to the
dock. She glanced back, then vanished in the crowd.
A piece of my soul went with her.
FOURTEEN The Rule of Ten If I'd thought being a hero in
Sayana was overwhelming, now we were drowned. The cheering
crowd swept down on us and caught Seer Tenedos and myself
up in their arms. They began carrying us off, where I knew not. I
think we were lugged through every street in the capital, whether
boulevard or alley, and everyone wished to touch us, throw
flowers at us, or shout offers to pleasure us in as many ways as
existed, from food to bed.
I managed to keep a smile on my face, and to pretend as if I
were greeting people, although in the hubbub I couldn't be heard
and was able to save my voice.
Tenedos bowed, waved, gestured as if he were a priest instead
of a seer. His eyes gleamed with pleasure.
For a moment, the naked adulation was seductive, but then the
thought came, What would it be like if next time the crowd hated
you? These same loving hands would tear you apart in seconds.
Eventually we were brought to the bridge that crosses a branch
of the Latane River to the moat-surrounded Rule of Ten's palace.
The crowd would have carried us over the bridge, but there were
three lines of dismounted Golden Helms blocking them, and two
lines of the city's wardens in front of
them. We were grudgingly let down. Tenedos waved for silence,
and eventually the yammering died away a bit.
"Great people of Numantia and Nicias," he shouted, and then the
crowd bellowed its pleasure, and I heard no more, although his
lips kept moving. He motionedóback away, toward the
bridgesóand I obeyed. When we reached the wardens I sagged
in relief, and realized I'd been terrified of what could have
happened in that crowd. They swiftly escorted us through the
cavalrymen and across the square to the broad steps that led
into the palace.
Waiting for us was a man in robes faced with multicolored
embroidery, who carried a staff of gold and ivory. "I bid you
welcome," he shouted so the crowd behind could hear. "I am
Olynthus, chamberlain for the Rule of Ten. In their name, I grant
you the freedom of the city and the gratitude of all Numantia. We
shall see you are properly honored." His voice went down to
normal. "The journey and your, er, most tumultuous reception by
our citizenry must have been tiring." He waved the staff, and two
bowing servitors appeared. "Since you are high in the esteem of
the Rule, we wish to offer you our own hospitality, and bid you
follow these men to rooms which I trust will not disappoint."
I saluted, and Tenedos bowed. Hidden trumpets blared, and the
two servants beckoned.
I wondered what sort of quarters we would be lodged in. Since
this was the third palace I'd guested in, I felt I was becoming a bit
of a connoisseur. I'd expected this to be the grandest of them all.
I was somewhat disappointed. I noted that the carpet we walked
on, while still magnificent, was beginning to show a bit of threads
at the center. The paintings on the walls had begun to fade
somewhat, and the inlaid wallpaper was stained here and there. I
saw that the uniforms of the various palace servants we passed
were immaculate, but just a little shabby.
The Palace of the Rule of Ten, in short, looked like the residence
of a respected uncle, someone who'd gotten rich years
earlier, arranged his manse to please himself, and then let
things slide quietly downhill.
But most of these perceptions came later, when I thought about
what had happened. Now my nerves were on edge, waiting to
see what the morrow would bring.
It was even more disastrous than I'd feared.
The hearing on "The Recent Regrettable Incidents in the Border
States, called by Its People the Kingdom of Kait" began after
midday. We were told the Rule of Ten little liked to conduct
public business in the morning, devoting that to their own private
concerns.
"Which means," Tenedos muttered, "making money or sleeping
late."
We waited outside the audience chamber in full regalia. I wore
the full-dress uniform of the Lancers, as did Lances Kar-jan,
Svalbard, and Curti. Legate Yonge wore his best civilian garb, but
with the sash of a legate in the Numantian Army wound around
his waist. None of us were armed except Yonge, even though
custom dictated that Lancers wear arms with any uniform. But
we'd been told by the palace's head guard that no one,
absolutely no one, was permitted to carry instruments of death
into the presence of the Rule of Ten. Yonge had growled and
given up his saber, but when a guard reached for his dagger he'd
clapped his hand on its hilt and said no one could touch that and
live. The guard began to object, looked into Yonge's cold eyes
and hard features, and decided he never saw the blade.
Tenedos was garbed not as a Numantian resident-general, but in
seer's robes, as if disdaining any part of the Rule of Ten's
policies.
We were ushered into a large room, its walls paneled in dark
wood. There was a railing near one end of it, and behind it the
long raised dais where the Rule of Ten would sit. There were
benches for those who would speak to the rulers of Numantia, a
place for a note-taker, and seats for spectators. It looked more
like a trial chamber than anything else.
The room had little room for the merely curious; every
Numantian broadsheet that could find a writer in Nicias had sent
a representative. The other observers were richly dressed,
obvious members of the government. Some of them, I found
later, were from the city's own rulers, the Nicias Council. It was
generally considered as rock-bound as the Rule of Ten.
After half an hour's wait, we were ordered to rise and the Rule of
Ten entered. They wore black ceremonial robes and dignified
expressions. A priest blessed the gathering, and invoked Irisu
and Panoan. As he did, Tenedos prayed briefly to himself in a
low whisper, and I caught the name of the Destroyer and Creator,
the goddess few had the courage to invoke, Saionji.
The speaker, a man in his early sixties named Barthou,
welcomed us in a cordial tone, asked if we had been treated
acceptably since our return to Numantia, and if we wished
anything.
Tenedos rose and said we did notówe had been treated most
cordially.
"I hope so," Barthou said, his voice drenched in sincerity,
"even though nothing can compensate for those terrible events I
now wish you to tell us about." Tenedos began his tale.
I watched the Rule carefully. Tenedos had cast a Square of
Silence spellófour identical objects at the corners, then words I
couldn't understand, and it would take an experienced seer some
time to break the spell and listen to what was being saidóand
told me much about who we'd be facing. The two members of
the Rule whom Tenedos counted as in his camp I readily
recognized from his descriptions. The first, quite old, was Mahal.
Tenedos had said he was less convinced of the seer's
philosophy than his new, very young and beautiful wife from a
shopkeeper's family who was, like most of her class, intensely
patriotic. She also prided herself on keeping current with every
new idea that came to Nicias, "so," Tenedos said, "perforce
Mahal must be dragged along with her into the embrace of the
new, untried, and radical."
Our second friend was Scopas. He was middle-aged, and
enormous. He was hardly a jolly fat man; his face showed the
hard lines of intelligence and hard ambition.
Only the speaker, Barthou, and two others were worth worrying
about, Tenedos had said. Those two, Farel and Chare, were
young, in their late thirties, and had only been on the Rule for a
few years. Tenedos warned me not to misjudge them by their
years; they were as hidebound and reactionary as the most
doddering ancient.
The other five would be counted on to vote whichever way they
thought safest, which gave Barthou a solid majority.
"All we can hope to do is shame them into taking some action,"
Tenedos said. "Now is when I'd prefer to have more of the
talents of the demagogue than the magician.
"I wish to several demons-haunted hells I did know some spells
to warp the Rule's vote. But even if I did, they have the palace so
surrounded by protective spells I'd never be able to finish the
casting. And that would mean my deathóit's the ax for anyone
attempting to use sorcery against our leaders."
Tenedos's testimony was peppered with constant questions
from the Rule, which were more to make sure the questioner
appeared alert and interested than actually seeking knowledge,
so the seer had just reached the point of our meeting at the ford
and the ensuing skirmish when the meeting was adjourned.
Of course Tenedos said nothing about why he thought my orders
to join him had come as late as they had, nor did he make any
mention of the safe-conduct that didn't exist, nor why he believed
the Rule of Ten had actually sent him to Kait.
The broadsheets that night were filled with the day's testimony,
and accompanied by sketches of Tenedos and myself.
"Quite impossibly good-looking," Tenedos said, looking at one.
"No doubt the morrow will find several marriage proposals, my
young friend."
So it did, but more than several, and only a few of them were
concerned with matrimony, but rather more immediate pastimes.
There were nearly fifty, and they came from everyone from
grandmothers who certainly should have known bet-
ter to passionate scrawls from girls just out of the nursery. A
number of women enclosed small gifts with their missives,
mostly sketches or miniatures of themselves. Some of them
were surprisingly good-looking. I puzzled over three letters: Each
of them contained a tiny tuft of eurly hair, and I Slushed and felt
like a fool when Tenedos dryly explained their obvious origin.
"So what do I do with these letters, sir?" "You could answer
them." "I don't think so." "Not even this one?"
I looked at the intaglio. "She's certainly pretty," I agreed. "With
nothing to hide. But I've got to wonderóif she was so suddenly
taken with me, as this letter says, and I must bed her this very
night in the spirit of Jaen... when did she have time to get the
engraving made?"
"Hmm," Tenedos said, gravely. He picked up the metal plate and
pretended to examine its blank reverse closely. "Ah yes. You
have a much sharper perception than I. On its back this says it's
number forty-seven of a set of three hundred." "Should I return
the letters?"
"Damastes, sometimes your brain fails you. Why bring
heartache? How many of these fair women have husbands,
lovers, fathers? Not to remind you that some of them might think
it was your fault their loved ones were so suddenly stricken with
lust."
Yonge wanted to read them, but I fed them into the fire that night.
On the second day, we were able to move more swiftly, and I
was asked to narrate some incidents as well. Once more, the
broadsheets screamed of the monstrosities of Achim Fergana,
and the horrors of Kait, and there were twice as many proposals.
But after the third day's appearance, by which time we'd reached
the point of Achim Fergana's victory banquet, the defection of
Jask Irshad, and the killer fog, there was nothing whatsoever,
except a brief mention that the hearing was continuing.
i * "This bodes very poorly," Tenedos said. "The Rule of Ten
strictly control the broadsheets. I suppose they've decided we've
become entirely too popular, or what we're saying is likely to so
inflame the populace they'll be forced to take strong action
against Kait.
"I fear we're doomed, Damastes."
The next, the fourth, day, the broadsheet writers were still in
attendance, although I saw that none of them were writing down
our testimony. The members of the Nicias Council weren't
present, and had allowed underlings to appear in their place for
amusement. Then Tenedos mentioned the Tovieti. Instantly Bar-
thou was standing, the rod of office held before him.
"This has now entered the realm of state secrets," he said.
"Resident-General Tenedos, please cease speaking until the
chamber is cleared."
Guards hastily hustled the audience out.
Tenedos, looking very unhappy, continued his tale. When he'd
finished, there were no questions or comments, and Bar-thou
adjourned the session.
Three more days went the same, and we were finished. During
our story of the final retreat from Sayana, Barthou and his lackeys
had urged Tenedos and myself to speak more succinctlyó-there
were other matters requiring their immediate attendance.
Then we were done.
The Rule of Ten said they would announce what action they
planned to take as soon as possible, and thanked us once more
for appearing.
We'd barely returned to our rooms when we were summoned by
the guards. Before I met Tenedos, and was still innocent about
the ways of government, I would have thought this meant their ire
had been righteously roused, and there'd be an immediate
declaration of war against Kait But now I knew better.
And so it was. The room was empty except for the recorder,
ourselves, and the Rule of Ten. Mahal would not look at
Tenedos, and Scopas's expression was completely unreadable.
In smooth, measured tones Barthou said that Kait had erred
most grievously, and there would be a most harsh diplomatic
note sent to Sayana, "as soon as circumstances permittea its
transmission." That meant they weren't even brave enough to
send a full regiment of cavalry down the Sulem Pass and shove
the note down Achim Fergana's throat.
Anger grew within me.
"We further proclaim mercantile sanctions against Kait," Barthou
went on. "These, which will be announced within a week, will be
maintained until Baber Achim Fergana makes appropriate
restitution to the victims of the Sulem Pass horror."
Mercantile sanctions? What punishment was that? The men of
the Border States took what they wanted at swordpoint, or traded
surreptitiously in remote villages.
"Finally," Barthou said, "it is our decision that the matter of the
Border States and their dissident natives has been ignored too
long. Therefore, we are summoning a Great Conference, to be
attended by the rulers of all states who touch on their lands, to be
held in the Tenth Day of the Time of Births to discuss the matter.
"The Rule of Ten has spoken! Proclaim this word throughout all
Numantia!" He started to set the rod of office down.
Tenedos was on his feet, speaking even before he was
recognized: "But what of Thak? What of the Tovieti?"
Two of the Ten looked at each other.
"Local phenomenon," Chare said. "Not worth concerning
ourselves about."
"Then why was I ordered to report on them when I first went to
Kait? You seemed most concerned about the matter then."
"We were unaware of the nature of the ... phenomenon," Chare
said. "Now we are satisfied it is of little consequence."
"I declare this meeting over," Barthou said hastily, before
Tenedos could challenge them any further.
Now rage took me like a mastiff shakes a kitten, and I was
standing. All that I could see was that stormy pass, and hear
Captain Mellet's last words: "Tell them there are still men on the
Frontiers who know how to die!"
"Are you all cowards tható" I managed, then gasped as I *
Tenedos kicked me on the ankle, hard enough to make me
stumble back against the bench. Before I could recover, the Rule
of Ten had stood and swept out, so many crows walking a limb.
I almost went after them, and I saw alarmed guards start toward
us. Tenedos and then Karjan had me by the arms, and were
moving me out of the chamber as quickly as the Rule of Ten had
fled.
I found enough self-control not to break away, or snarl at my two
friends, and I let myself be taken to my rooms. I paced back and
forth like a caged tiger, staring at the door, wishing one of those
cowardly bastards would come through it But the only one who
did, and that after two hours, was Laish Tenedos, who tapped
softly, then entered without waiting for an invitation.
He held two ornate crystal goblets and a great decanter of
brandy.
"This is seventy-five years old," he said. "It's supposedly good
for soothing wrath. At any rate the palace's vintner says it will
make you amazingly drunk and free of worries."
"I'll be blasted if I want anything from them, especially not their
damned drink!"
"Tut, tut," soothed Tenedos. "Never turn down a chance to drink
an enemy's liquor. It can be the sweetest of all, while you plan for
the future."
He poured the goblets quite full and handed me one.
I took it, started to drain it, then stopped. I took two deep breaths,
then pulled the stopper from the decanter and began pouring the
liquor back. If you drink, it should only be when times are good.
But before the glass was emptied, I had a second thought, and
left a single swallow.
I lifted it in a toast.
'To Captain Mellet," I said. "I, at least, shall not forget him."
Tenedos looked at me in surprise, then nodded agreement.
'To Captain Mellet." We drained our glasses.
"Thank you, Seer. I think it is time I sleep." "As you wish, my
friend. For me, sleep may require some assistance." He picked
up the decanter. "I shall see you in the morning."
But in spite of my words, the world was gray outside before I was
able to sleep.
Later that day, Seer Tenedos and I were called to the Rule of
Ten's chamber. I expected to be disciplined for my outburst, and
resolved to take whatever punishment those fools had come up
with stoically.
There were only two of the Rule of Ten in the chamber: Farel,
one of Barthou's contingent, and Scopas. He sat in Bar-
thou's seat.
"Legate Damastes k Cimabue," he began, "it is the decision of
the Rule of Ten that you have served us well.
"In recognition of this, we have ordered you promoted to captain
of the Lower Half, this promotion to become effective
immediately."
I was damned if I would give either of them the satisfaction of
gaping, and managed to keep my face still. My outburst had been
ignored, and instead my sash of office would now carry a single
black band, a promotion I would not have expected in peacetime
for ten years, and that after only the most meritorious service.
"We also think that your standards are worthy of note, and
therefore are reassigning you from the Frontiers to our capital.
You are hereby given a new posting to Numantia's proudest
formation, the Golden Helms of Nicias." Fuck!
"There is another reason we made this decision," Scopas went
on. "We may wish to hear more details of your harrowing
experience in the Border States when the Border Conference
assembles, and wish you to remain close at hand."
He fell silent. I knew what I was supposed to do, but hated doing
it. But a soldier must accept the harsh as readily as the soft, and
so I came to attention, clapped my chest in salute, wheeled, and
marched out, followed by Yonge and Karjan.
K I started for my quarters, feeling, as one of my lycee
instructors would have put it, shit and sugar, but mostly shit. But
the guard stopped me, and said I was to wait for Resident-
General Tenedos.
It was about half an hour later when the seer emerged, a tight
smile on his face.
"We have great reason to thank the Rule of Ten," he said in a
clear voice. "They have done us a boon, and we are in their debt"
When he and I were alone in his rooms, and his Square of
Silence spell in place, he started to explain, but saw my
expression first.
"Will it be that bad?" he asked.
I started to find some polite military lie, then decided to tell the
truth.
"It won't be the best, sir. All I'll be doing is polishing brass, riding
up and down, and holding the door open for fat-ass diplomats,
begging your pardon, sir. It'll be a year, maybe more, before I'll
be able to put in to transfer to some unit where there's likely to be
some action. Hells, I don't even know if the Lancers will be willing
to take me back."
"Legate," Tenedos said, "I was not speaking for unseen ears
when I said we had been granted a boon. I'm very glad you're
being stationed here in Nicias, for purely selfish reasons.
"I'll make a bet with you. Within a year... no, two at the outside, I'll
have need of your service, and not to open any doors for me,
either."
"What do you mean?"
"Time will answer that question," he said. "I shall not, because I
can't tell how the future shall twist. But I know this course cannot
run true much longer."
At the moment I had little patience for his theories about how the
days of Numantia's rulers were numbered, but I said nothing.
Then my natural curiosity took me.
"What reward did you receive, sir? I hope one more satisfactory
than mine."
"Most definitely. Scopas praised me to the heavens, then
said I could either remain in government service or return to
civilian life. If I chose the former, he had a list of some eight
posts I could pick from.
"I scanned them quickly, and found them to be just as I'd
expectedóplaces where I would be absent from the public eye,
and unhappy enough to resign in a short time.
"So I picked the worst of allóin their minds.
"Congratulate me, Legate. I am now the head of the Military
Sorcery Department for the Lycee of Command."
That academy was intended to train hand-picked dominas for the
highest rank in the army. An officer chosen for that school was
guaranteed he'd see general rank before retiring unless he
committed some unimaginable error.
"Now," he went on, "I knew full well before you told me just how
low an opinion the army has of magic, which we've discussed. So
now, in the bowels of the beast, I'm expected to be digested and
shat out into the darkness, and my radical theories heard no
more.
"But this shall be where I prove my ideals. Prove them and find
the disciples I'll need. If I cannot, well then, Saionji has picked a
weak vessel for her message. But I doubt that.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, indeed. The Rule of Ten will bitterly rue this
day."
I was glad one of us was content. As for me, in spite of
Tenedos's reassurances, I was trapped in Nicias.
FIFTEEN The City of Lights I wasted no more time in the palace,
but swiftly packed my gear and prepared to move to the barracks
of the Golden Helms. Tenedos said he'd see that Yonge fell into
as little mischief as possible, and took him into his employ,
"always needing," Tenedos said, "the duties of a good
serviceable murderer in these unsettled times.
"I hope," he went on, "the next time we serve together it shall be
in happier times and circumstances. Assuming you do wish that
to happen."
I thought about it for a moment, then grinned. I'd chosen a life of
adventure, and certainly being around the seer had granted that. I
was still sound in limb, and had learned an infinite amount in the
year or so we'd been together.
"Seer," I said formally, "you have but to call. I'll follow your orders
again."
And so I swore my first oath of fealty to Laish Tenedos. It was
the least ceremonious of them all, but the most important,
remembering our family motto:
We Hold True.
I bade Tenedos farewell, and promised to look him up at the
lycee as soon as I settled into my new post.
I asked Lancer Karjan if he wished to remain my servant,
which I knew would be permitted, or return to the Lancers. He
thought hard, then grunted and said, "I'll see this un through. F'r a
while at least. Sir."
We were offered a carriage, but didn't need it, tying what little
gear we had behind to Lucan's and Rabbit's saddles. Rabbit by
now was used to riders other than myself, so he snorted only
once when Karjan climbed into the saddle, and we set off to join
the Golden Helms.
The Rule of Ten may have been complacent, but it did not show
from the way they had positioned the military about Nicias. The
army's main elements were just to the north of the Palace of the
Rule of Ten, as were two other regimental headquarters,
guarding their masters from a bare five minutes' distance. I
wondered how much real trust the Rule of Ten had in their own
people.
A branch of the River Latane was about half a mile to our west as
it curved through the city, and there was one of Nicias's huge
parks, named Hyder Park, between us and the lace.
Even though it was still winter, the weather was quite pleasant, as
it generally is in Nicias, the farthest north and closest to the
equator of all Numantia's cities, so our ride was quite pleasant.
We admired the park's bridle paths, gazebos, open-air taverns,
and swan-decorated lakes. I thought it most curious that all the
people I saw were well dressed and comfortable looking, a far
cry from most of the city's populace. I wondered if the general
populace was kept out by order, or if it was a matter of custom as
was so much in this ancient city.
The Golden Helms' brick barracks sprawled among rolling lawns,
graveled parade grounds, and manicured rol fields. Even though
I knew I would hate this assignment, a half-smile touched my lips
as we rode under the arching entrance to the cantonment, a
smile of familiarity. Here a punishment squad under the snarling
guidance of a lance-major spaded fertilizer around trees with
their trunks uniformly painted white for three feet above the
ground; there another warrant bawled * orders at the awkward
squad riding back and forth on a parade ground; an anxious
officer hurried down one of the twisting stone paths, intent on a
private errand and barely noticing the salute of a passing lance.
Familiar... but not really, for I realized at this time of day, early
afternoon, the area should be filled with soldiers drilling, at sport,
being lectured to, or practicing their tactics.
We asked our way to the regiment's headquarters, and I reported
to the adjutant, a captain of the Upper Half named Lardier, and
inquired when it would be convenient for me to present myself to
the unit's domina.
"Perhaps tomorrow." The adjutant yawned. "Domina Lehar may
have returned from his estate. Or perhaps not. Certainly he'll be
back by the Twenty-Sixth Day, for there's an important parade, in
honor of the Prince of Hermonassa, then.
"But don't worry, Captain a Cimabue. He's aware of you. We've
all heard of your coming.
"By the way. Congratulations on your promotion. I'm sure you
deserve it, and hope that a combat veteran such as yourself
encounters no difficulties with the customs of the Golden
Helms."
He turned and looked at a chart. "Mm. Yes. I think I'll put you in
charge of B Troop. They call themselves the Silver Centaurs.
Legate Nexo was in temporary command of the troop, but you
have rank on him. Perhaps he'd be willing to serve on under you,
although I doubt it."
I'd known this would happen, even in a line regiment. My rapid
promotion over who knows how many thousand young legates
would rouse resentment not only in the hearts of those I
overleaped, but from my superiors as well. I would have to
soldier well to find approval in their eyes.
"I'll have a word with the legate," I said. "Who is my troop guide?"
"At the moment... well, you don't have one. He bought himself out
of the army a month or so ago, and Domina Lehar hasn't gotten
around to promoting one yet. See what you think of your men,
and offer some suggestions, there's a good man."
I saluted, and turned to leave.
"One more thing, Captain. Are those your horses outside? I
thought so. Well, you can certainly keep them for off-duty
mounts. But all the men of B Troop ride blacks. I'll notify the
remount officer you'll be needing a new charger. You can select
one at your leisure." I withdrew, somewhat shaken at my more-
than-casual welcome, and went to my troop area.
Each troop had a separate building, with the regimental
headquarters at the center of the cluster, and behind that the
necessary shops for the unit's support. When I arrived the
barracks were nearly deserted, and the only warrant in the orderly
room was a junior lance-major. He sprang to attention, and I
noted that his uniform was immaculate, as was everything else I'd
seen.
I told him who I was, and asked where Legate Nexo was.
He said in the city, visiting friends.
I made no comment, but thought this was the most social unit I'd
ever seen. Where were the men of my troop? A few on detail,
some in the stables, but most of them, since B Troop was
standby troop this week, on pass in Nicias.
"Standby, eh? What are we on standby for?"
"Well, sir, in the event of any emergency."
"How would they be summoned, if they're all farting about in
taverns?"
The lance-major looked perplexed. "Well, sir, there's never been
an occasion like that in the six years I've been with the regiment.
But I suppose we'd have to wait until they reported back. Maybe
send messengers to the taverns the troop usually drinks in."
I began to growl an opinion, but caught myself in time. There is
no bigger military fool than the one who joins a new formation and
instantly knows what must be changed. I politely thanked the
lance-major, and had him show me to my quarters.
As a troop commander and captain, I'd expected a room to
myself, but I was quite pleased with how large it was, including
not only a bedroom and separate office, but also a bath-
room and small chamber for Karjan. I ordered Karjan to take
Lucan and Rabbit to the stables. He saluted, started to leave,
then hesitated.
"What's the problem, Lance? You may speak freely." "Beggin' th'
legócaptain's pardon, sir, but what the hells kind of army have
we went an' joined?"
It was a good question, and became a better one in the next
several days. First came Legate Nexo, a rather effete young man
who affected a lisp. No, he'd rather not remain with B Troop, but
wished to transfer where he'd be, er, among friends of his own
sort. I could probably have put him in hackósentenced to
quartersófor a week for insolence. But I would rather have taken
him back of the barracks, stripped off my sash, and invited him to
discuss the matter in a more direct manner. But I knew an officer
of his ilk would never, ever stoop to striking someone with his
bare hands, and would have immediately reported me.
As for the men I had under my charge: On the surface, it
appeared I was in command of a unit an officer dreams of. I was
only five men short of a full troop's strength, which is always a
miracle. Almost all of my men had at least a year's service, and
about half of them were career soldiers. They were all good-
sized, the smallest being only five inches short of six feet, and a
few even towered over me. They were in the best of healthóno
one could complain about the quality of our rations, nor the
manner in which they were prepared and served.
Our horses were groomed twice a day, well exercised, and fed
properly. The harness was always freshly soaped and polished,
and the brightwork shone like a mirror.
The men's turnout was equally spectacular. I ordered a series of
inspections, and the biggest offense I could find was a man who
hadn't completely cleaned the bianco off the inside of his helm,
where the strap was riveted. I did not chastise him. Even the
soles of their boots were blackened before they fell out for
parade.
They maneuvered perfectly, and every parade-ground evo-
lution was done precisely, from "Squad... Assemble" to "Pass in
Review." They could raise a cheer and charge past dignitaries
without their line wavering more than a foot.
They could ... enough!
They were the shiniest group of soldiers I've ever had the
misfortune to command. Even now, all these years later, I find it
impossible to refer to them as "mine," or "we," but only "they." If,
Irisu forbid, they had ever been forced to fight a single squad of
my sometimes-scruffy, sometimes-underfed, mostly undersized
Lancers, the skirmish wouldn't have been remembered by the
men of the Seventeenth.
These "Silver Centaurs" knew nothing of how to fight with their
weapons, although they did wonderfully pretty pirouettes when
they paraded through the streets of Nicias. Sabers were to be
presented, lances were to hang pennons on, and daggers were
for ornament.
They stood guard in front of the government buildings in Nicias,
but if a mob had charged, they would have screeched and run in
dismay, not having the slightest idea of what to do next As far as
tactics, if I'd ordered them to dismount and advance with bare
saber using all cover, I might have been speaking Kaiti.
Camouflage, scouting, skirmishes, courier service, flank
guardóall the real duties of a cavalryman in war were unknown.
The only regimental charge they could manage was across a flat,
well-groomed parade field for the approval of diplomats and
cheering citizens on holiday.
There was nothing intrinsically wrong with these men. Almost all
soldiers are the same; it is their leaders who make the
difference. These same men, well and hard trained, could have
been as good or better than any Lancers.
But the Golden Helms were as rotten as the Rule of Ten. Domina
Lehar was more interested in the mansions and rice fields he
owned a day and a half s journey beyond Nicias to the west, in
the delta. The rest of the officers were the same sort of
popinjays, fools, and idle gentlemen I'd seen at the lycee, of
various ages, ranks, and states of disrepair, and in the Helms
there was no one to bring them back to reality.
* I've heard that in some puffed-chest regiments like the Helms
it's forbidden to discuss business, that is soldiering, in the mess.
There was no such ban with the Helms, nor was it necessary. If
any of us had talked about our day's duties, we would have
sounded like housewives discussing which brand of polish did
the best job on our silver, or else horsedealers nattering on about
what someone's mount might do in the furlong.
The sole exception was a rather disheveled legate three years
older than I, who seemed completely uninterested in the latest
gossip or horse-breeding, did not drink, did not gamble, and
seemed to have little interest in women. Instead he buried
himself in history, mostly military, and in the few broadsheets
specializing in the military. He'd been eagerly and mistakenly
drafted by the Helms because he was the top graduate at his
lycee. They didn't find out until he reported that he'd achieved the
position completely on ability in the field or classroom, with never
a pin's notice mentioned about his appearance or failure to suck
up to his superiors.
His name was Mercia Petre. Yes, that Petre, for the most part no
different as a legate than when he held a tribune's baton not very
long afterward.
I can't say we became friendsówith one exception, I doubt if
Petre ever had what conventional people call a friend. But I spent
long nights in the shambles he called quarters, sipping tea,
studying old battles, re-laying them out so the outcome might be
different, and reading all we could find on the Border States, on
Kallio, and even Maisir. Part of me may have been bored cross-
eyed by the dryness of the books, but this was a necessary part
of my trade. I was never bored by Petre's company, although
others were, since he had but one interest, and that was serving
the war god Isa.
He was the only pleasure I found in that cantonment during those
long, drear months with the Helms.
This situation is a favorite in the romances. It's a great tale, of a
staid, pigheaded formation, and how a brave, stubborn young
officer stands true for what he knows to be right, and in
spite of hostility hammers his own small part of the unit into
fighting order, and then is vindicated when war comes and they
all ride out and do something terribly heroic.
Reality, however, was that if I'd tried to behave like that young
officer I would have had my head handed to me, most likely on
the silver salver the domina had his first brandy of the afternoon
served on. I could not chance that. Not after Captain of the Lower
Half Banim Lanett and the rol match with the Lancers.
So I followed soldiering's oldest commandment: "Shut up and
soldier, soldier!" I used the few hours allotted for Commander's
Time to try to teach the men some tactical sense, but because
we were never allowed out of the city to practice these tactics,
nor was mere anywhere to leam city-fighting techniques, I fear
my talks only provided the men a chance to learn that most
soldierly of all skillsóto sleep with your eyes open.
All I could do was wait for the year or so to pass until I was
forgotten, and then attempt to transfer back to the Frontiers.
That, and explore the world beyond the barracks, beyond the
regimentóthe wonders of the City of Lights.
I have never thought of myself as a city man, nor do I especially
enjoy a metropolis. But Nicias is a city to fall in love with.
Its most remarkable feature is responsible for its name. When
the first men were created by Umar and sent down to this earth,
before he withdrew into silence and let the world be ruled by Irisu
and Saionji, they found a roaring pillar of flame, flame from a gas
that poured from a spring in the rock. Centuries later, that fire was
somehow extinguished, and the gas channeled into pipes that
were first laid beside and men beneath the streets of the city.
When the fire was relit every house, from mansion to shack, and
the streets themselves had and have free light that also provides
a measure of heat. Nicias has more fires than other cities, but the
citizens count that the price to be paid and especially venerate
Shahriya. The supply of gas has never slackened, never run out.
There is a legend * mat the day it does is the end of Numantia
and perhaps the world itself.
It's easy to numb the mind with figures about Niciasócapital of
Dara Province as well as of Numantia, sitting on the eastern edge
of the Latane River's great delta, forty-five square miles, perhaps
a million people, although I doubt if the bravest census taker has
ever ventured into the towering, rickety slums of the eastern side
or the evil streets of the northern docks mat jut into the Great
Ocean, nor has anyone numbered the people of the streets who
sleep where sundown catches mem, wrapped in their single
garment.
There are half a hundred parks, from those no bigger than a city
square that are owned and maintained by those living around it to
the great expanses like Hyder Park or, to the north on the
outskirts of the sprawling city, Manco Heath. There are at least
twelve branches and who knows how many tributaries of the
Latane River that twist through the city. Some of them, like the
main navigable branch the ships use, are untamed. Others are
channeled into stone banks like canals. Still others run
underground, and are used to hurry the city's sewage to the sea.
I cannot conceive of anyone becoming tired of Nicias. Someone
once said that a man could dine at a different restaurant every
meal of his life and die before seeing mem all. I could cynically
add he might die of surfeit or, remembering some of the street
vendors I grabbed a hasty snack from, stomach poisoning,
instead of old age, but I'll accept the saying as truth.
Nicias has everything, from cool, quiet streets where the rich
have their townhouses to the poorest garrets; shopping areas
from twisting alleys with the strangest tiny shops imaginable to
stalls to market squares to great emporiums that will sell you
anything from a needle to a funeral. But enoughóif you wish to
know more, purchase a guidebook or, better yet, journey to
Nicias and experience its splendor for yourself.
Sometimes I went out on my own, sometimes, when I felt like
chancing the riskier parts of the town, I asked Karjan if he
wished to accompany me. If he found no other pleasure, he
could at least drink enough so I wouldn't be sneered at for my
temperance, and he had an amazingly good bass voice that
made him popular in the minstrel bars.
I called on Seer Tenedos, and found him honestly delighted to
see me. That became a bit of a habit. If I didn't have night duty,
which only fell once every three weeks in the Helms, and had no
other plans, I would drop by the Lycee of Command, which was
ten minutes distant, to see if he had any ideas for the evening.
He'd ask how my day went, of which the telling took but boring
seconds, and then tell me of his. I assumed he had a Square of
Silence cast around his office, since his comments on some of
the high-ranking officers he was teaching, or on the staff of the
lycee, were scathing.
He'd sacked the other two instructors in the Military Sorcery
Department, one for senility, the other for incompetence, and
replaced them with young, eager seers as convinced as he was
that sorcery must become the third branch of the army, along with
the infantry and cavalry.
At first it was the two of us, but in a few weeks there were other
officers, students, younger captains of the Upper Half or
dominas, clustering around. At this point, his dissection of his
students ceased, obviously. Besides, his pupils were more
interested in elaborations of his classroom lectures,
accompanied as frequently as not by illustrations on a large
sand-table he'd had installed.
I stayed well to the rear of the crowd, listening intently. I was
fascinated. On the surface, it seemed all he was talking about
was bygone battles, demonstrating how a skilled mage might
have changed their outcome with a spell of darkness here, a
weather spell there, and so forth.
But there was more to Seer Tenedos's speeches than just
history, and it took me a while to realize it. I think that if I'd not
known of his hatred for the Rule of Ten and his absolute
conviction that Numantia must be ruled by a king or face doom, I
might not have noticed. He'd slyly put in a dig about * those who
live in the past being strangled by its dead hand in the future or, if
one of the battles had occurred during the time of the Rule of
Ten, how the commander on the ground was the man who saved
the day, not the panicked babblers in the rear. Tenedos was
building a corps of disciples to his philosophy. There was
certainly no sign of his being rejected and cast into outer
darkness. The Rule of Ten had erred badly in making this
appointment, as he'd foreseen.
Since the students all out-ranked me, I was beginning to feel
most out of place, when Tenedos announced a new schedule.
He would only be available for extra sessions twice a week. The
other nights he wished to himself.
"One of them at least," he said, ' promise you I'll spend with you,
Damastes, assuming you're not tired of the company of a
growling magician. I can feel myself getting stale in this damned
office. I want to get out, in the streets, among the people."
It was well he made his plan firm, because he became a favorite
of the lecture halls. One interesting thing about Nicians: They
would rather go to a hall and listen to one man spiel his ideas or,
better, two flail each other as incompetent, barren-minded
baboons than visit a gallery or attend a concert.
A side benefit of being the season's pet philosopher was the
number of women who wished to have a private interchange to,
as one lovely said, "make sure I properly understand what you're
saying." That person must have required considerable
explanation, because when I saw Tenedos the next afternoon he
was exhausted, and begged off our planned outing for the
chance for some sleep.
But that was about the only time I saw him tired. He had vast
wellsprings of energy, and never seemed to falter.
When we went out of an evening, there was no telling where we
would go, nor whose company we would be in. Sometimes it was
an invitation to a party that Tenedos had gotten, or, not
infrequently, one that came to the "Lion of Sulem Pass" as one
broadsheet had called me, which Yonge never let me forget We
were as likely to dine in the halls of the mighty
as in some dockside shanty that happened to have the best
oysters in Nicias, or to sit listening to four stringed instruments in
a hall as watch naked dancers prance around a single man with a
guitar and a voice that could move the dead in a wineshop where
we carefully sat with our backs to the wall.
Nicias was a beautiful city, but it was not a happy one. There was
something wrong, something amiss. Rich people did not go
about without an armed guard or two. The populace openly
sneered at me wardens and, in the poorer sections where the
men of the law went in squads, were as likely to hurl a cobble at
their backs and run as not Soldiers were not respected, either,
but were the subject of imprecations and sometimes, if the
Nician was bold and the soldier drunk enough, waylaid, robbed,
and stripped.
This isn't to say injustice was only on one hand. Every street
comer held a shouting orator, as likely to be howling obscene
stories of whose beds the Rule of Ten slept in as condemnation
of the entire system. They were certainly harmless, even if their
numbers were worrisome. But the wardens seemed to single out
these blowhards as desperate enemies of the state, and
smashed them into momentary silence with their truncheons. And
the wardens believed that anyone arrested was automatically
guilty, and deserved a merciless hiding on the way to prison.
The beauty of Nicias was there, but no one seemed to want to
take care of it. The streets needed sweeping, the sidewalks were
generally blocked with trash, and too many of the buildings,
public as well as private, needed painting and upkeep.
I remembered what Tenedos had said as we rode through
Sulem Pass the previous year: "I can feel the unrest in Nicias, in
Dara. The people are without leaders, without direction, and they
know it."
I, too, felt this tension, felt as if the city were a great, dry
wheatfield, parched by drought, waiting only for a single man with
a torch. And I was beginning to believe I rode the streets with that
very man.
But very seldom did my thoughts follow those grim tracks.
Laish Tenedos was excellent company. Frequently when he went
out he changed into mufti, since, as he said, "wizard's robes can
be off-putting as often as they gain an advantage. I might advise
you to follow the same practice."
Against regulations, I purchased civilian garb, and kept it in
Tenedos's apartments, although I wore my uniform more often
than not.
The two of us, sometimes accompanied by Karjan and Yonge,
found ourselves in strange byways.
I remember...
... paying a boatman a few coppers to give us a tour of the
sewers under the city, roaring along as if caught by rapids in his
tiny boat, the curved overhead bricks dank and dripping, rats
hissing at us from corners. Yonge got the boatman drunk and we
almost lost ourselves for good before discovering an open
grating to pry up and get our bearings.
... There was an evening that began quietly, a visit to a small
tavern along the river where the first barrel of the famous sweet
wine of Varan was available for tasting. Somehow tasting
became drinking became guzzling and we ended up in a long
snake dance down the riverbank, the Seer Tenedos, in full
regalia, roaring drunk at its head, I just behind him drunk only on
the laughter and singing, the wardens standing bewildered
nearby, hardly stupid enough to club down a magician for being
drunk and disorderly.
... We were at a formal dinner party. I was seated next to a pretty,
if rather cold-looking, woman about ten years my senior who'd
been introduced as the Marchioness Fenelon. Between courses
we'd chatted of this and thatóI was actually becoming able to
make small talk. Then she turned to me, and I saw for the first
time the pin she wore on her breast.
It was a solid gold casting of a long cord.
Time froze for me, and I remembered the cavern, another,
real, yellow cord of silk around my neck, and the murderous
beauty named Palikao.
"What," I said, my voice as harsh as if I'd been reprimanding one
of my men, "is that you're wearing?" -ó*-j - ó~^* Anam atthft nin.
Then s sne suuicu, guuvui vª^.... Ñ __ r __ me, but her eyes
moved away rapidly.
"Oh," she said, "it's just... something I saw in a shop and thought
looked smart. Just a bauble."
I knew she was lying.
... We organized an impromptu race among the carriage drivers
of Hyder Park, and combed through nearby taverns to find
enough passengers to fill them.
The two sleepy wardens screamed and ran as they saw, pelting
down on them, a cavalry charge of cabs, filled with drunk
noblemen and -women.
By the time the wardens had called out reinforcements we'd
done two laps, awarded first prize, which I remember as an
enormous stuffed toy, and vanished into the night.
... It was late and I'd gotten lost trying to find the party, riding
Lucan up and down the lanes of an expensive part of Nicias, with
walled mansions on either side of the road. Finally, I'd found the
place described on the ivory card, and rode into its grounds.
I wasn't that late, I decided with relief, because the drive was still
lined with carriages and there were a dozen or more horses
being held by grooms. I dismounted, tossed the reins to a
retainer, and went up the steps to the main house.
I didn't know the people who lived there, not even their name, but
the card that'd come to me had promised an evening such as "I'd
never forget," and so I took the chance.
A solemn-faced man opened the door, bowed me in, and shut it
behind me. I thought it a bit odd for a servitor to remain outside,
but shrugged and looked for a cloakroom.
I went through a curtained entranceway into a large room,
decorated only in pillows and a rich carpet with the thickest * nap
I have ever seen. It was well that it was so comfortable, because
all of the bodies squirming on it were very naked.
Man-woman, man-man, woman-woman, man-woman-man: It
appeared as if every possible combination was being tried.
A very small blond, as nude as the others, came to her feet and
came toward me, walking as if she expected the floor to slip
away from her. She had milky skin, curly hair, the face of an
innocent child, and the perfect body of a young harlot "Good
evening," she said. "Would you like to come between my tits?"
I had no idea what the proper response was then, nor do I now.
"Welcome to my party," she said. "We're having a lot of fun. You
look like a big one. Come join us. It's always good to find a new...
face." She giggled.
"Yes," I said. "Certainly. In just a moment. But... let me go find a
place to hang my cloak."
"I'll be waiting," she said, and began massaging her nipples with
her thumbs, moving her breasts against each other in a manner
she thought inviting.
I backed through the curtain and went out the door.
"Leaving already, sir?" the retainer asked, his voice completely
neutral. I nodded, and started toward my horse, then turned back.
"Excuse me. But whose house is this?"
"This is the residence of Lord Mahal of the Rule of Ten and his
wife, sir."
I mounted and rode off.
When Tenedos said Lord Mahal's wife embraced the new,
untried, and radical, he knew not how well he'd chosen the word.
Then everything changed.
Seer Tenedos had suggested I attend a gathering in his place,
since he had suddenly been invited to attend Lord Sco-pas on a
matter of some urgency. He said I might enjoy it,
I since it was a regular event most popular among the radical
thinkers of Nicias. He said he'd already sent his apologies, and a
note that I'd most likely be attending in his stead, so his
"suggestion" was, not unusually, more of an order. "Do I keep my
clothes on, sir?" He coloredóI' d told him of the orgy at Lord
Mahal's. "You'll no doubt meet some people far stranger than any
of those satyrs and nymphs," he said. "But they'll keep their I
clothes on there. Or most of mem will, anyway."
'
"Who's sponsoring it?"
"A young woman. Countess Agramonte and Lavedan. The
Agramontes are a very old, very rich family. It's said they own
~-ô.´* lanrt to have their own state.
enough land to have men- own suue.
"She married well a bit more than a year ago. Count Lavedan has
almost as much gold as she does, but she insisted on keeping
the family name, and the Lavedans know better than to argue with
an Agramonte.
"These are people well worm the knowing, Damastes. Please
give them my apologies, although I doubt if you'll meet Count
Lavedan. He's more interested in his family's shipping than
politics or philosophy. "Enjoy yourself."
The house sat on the waterfront, a huge rectangle, five floors
high, lit with gas flares at each side of the entrance gates through
a tall, wrought-iron fence mat was wonderfully sculpted. I
dismounted and went inside.
I gave helmet and dolman to a doorman, and went toward the
sound of conversation and occasional laughter.
I passed a huge, high-ceilinged ballroom that was empty and
dark, and found the party. It was in a circular room, comfortably
and expensively decorated. A silver punch bowl sat on a
sideboard.
There were possibly mhty or so people inside, and I saw what
Tenedos meant They were dressed in every style imaginable,
including at least two I hoped stayed original with the owner, and
their wearers came from every class from the rich-
* est to the most humble. They were all happily arguing, listening,
or waiting to rebut the speaker as an oaf.
"Ah," a voice came from behind me. "This must be the Lion of
the Sulem Pass. Will you growl tonight, O Lion?"
I turned, a smile on my face, ready to comply with the joking
request. Then the world shimmered around me as if a god had
suddenly changed it to gold.
The woman was quite young, barely eighteen, I found later. She
was just five and a half feet tall, her hair was dark blond, worn
fashionably long and pulled to fall to one side of her face, ending
just above her small, pert breasts. She wore a stylish, daringly
filmy gown with thin neckstraps that crossed over her breasts,
leaving visible their saucy curves.
Her face was rounded, her eyes sparkled with intelligence, and
she had small but sensuous lips. She, too, was smiling.
Our eyes met, and the smile disappeared.
"I... I am Countess Agramonte and Lavedan," she said, sounding
suddenly a bit confused, her voice dropping to a throaty murmur.
I managed to come to some sort of attention, reached out, and
took her hand and lifted it, bowing over it.
"Captain Damastes a Cimabue, Countess."
"You may call me MarSn," she said.
I released her hand, and once more looked into her eyes.
I drowned in them for a million years.
SIXTEEN Maran uddenly her expression changed, and I can only
com-^pare it to that of a puppy who's done something wrong _ **
and expects to be whipped. ' am sorry, Countess, I mean Marfn,"
I said quickly. "I did not mean to stare."
"No, no," she said, and her expression returned to normal. "You
did nothing wrong. I was just a bit intimidated, Captain. I seldom
have soldiers to my salons."
"I can understand that," I said, trying a feeble joke. "Most of us
don't know where to put our sabers when we enter polite
company."
A wicked grin came and went. "That is not what I heard,"
she said.
"I don't understand," I said, pretending innocence.
She chose not to answer, but led me to the punch bowl and
poured a cup.
"You have a choice," she said. "You may join the throng, and
listen to former Count Komroff hold forth on why we must all
renounce our titles, move to the slums, and exist on clotted milk if
there's any hope for the worldó"
"Or?" I interrupted hastily.
"Or you may get the grand tour, since this is the first time you've
been in my house."
* "Lead on," I said. "Having no title, and little taste for farmer's
cheese, I put myself in your hands."
I admired the paintings, sculptures, gold inlays, cleverly carved
wood etchings on the lower floor, including that great ballroom.
When we came to the kitchen, Maran merely opened the door,
told me what was on the other side, and passed on. I would have
liked to have seen the mechanism necessary to feed such a
great household, but was content to do whatever she wished,
comfortable just being in her company.
As we went up the curving stairs to the second level, I asked,
"Pardon, but since this house sits on the water, I'd assumed it
belonged to your husband. But you saidó"
"This was my wedding gift to him. And to me."
"You have no other residence in the city?"
"I don't know what you know of the Agramonte family," she said.
"But we are country lords, not happy unless we can open any
window and sniff pig shit and hay. I'm afraid I'm the sport of the
clan, since to me green pastures and lowing cattle are about as
interesting as watching rocks turn into sand."
"That's a pity," I said. "For I'm but a country lad and can think of
nothing better."
"Perhaps," she said softly, "perhaps I never saw it through the
right eyes. Or... with the right person."
Her hand touched my wrist, then was away.
"Now, on this level," she said, mimicking a palace guide, "we
have such horribly interesting rooms as the sewing room, which I
refuse to enter, the nursery, which is vacant for the moment, the
library, here, which I love dearly."
The double doors opened into a great room lined with shelves,
all dark wood, expensive quiet carpeting, and oak furniture. There
were maps of our world and even a globe, one of the newer
imaginings of the cartographers.
One of my most private fantasies was that somehow I'd manage
to survive my military career and, even more improbably, amass
enough of a fortune to build a great house somewhere in the
country. Even though I'm not a reader, I'm not a r
barbarian, so of course part of the mansion would include a
library. Here my friends and I could gather, and talk of old
campaigns and long-dead comrades, while a great fire flickered
and a winter storm roared, unheeded, outside.
Even though the books did not draw me, the maps certainly did,
since I can sit over a map and dream of what country and terrain
it represents by the hour, one of the few nonoutdoor pastimes,
besides music, I enjoy.
I wondered what it would be like to have this library, and envied
Count Lavedan again.
I admired the next room even more, a large room hung with
curtains, with a podium at one side. This was their music
chamber, Maran explained. "Once a month or so, we have a
quartet or perhaps even a small orchestra in. We haven't done it
of late, since music is something my dear husband finds deadly
dull."
At the end of the corridor were arcing double doors that were
open a few inches.
"This is my husband's study. Since he's not present, it would
hardly beó" "Maran? Is that your'
"I thought," she said, "he was out." She raised her voice. "Yes,
Hernad. I'm merely showing one of our guests around." The door
opened, and Count Lavedan emerged. He was about five or six
years older than I, a big man, going a bit of fat. It was ironicóhe
looked every inch and pound the bluff country lord, yet his
background was shipping, while his country wife appeared the
city sophisticate.
"I came back from the docks an hour ago, and did not wish to
disturb you, my dear. Good evening, sir," he said, cordially. "It's
rare indeed to see a soldier attend one of Maran's little parties. I
assume you've come up with some new and vital scheme to
reinvent the military?"
"No," Maran said. "This is Captain a Cimabue. You know,
the one who saved all those people down in the Border States."
"No. Can't say as I have. Don't pay much attention to things that
don't pertain. But congratulations, Captain." He * snickered. "A
Cimabuan, eh? I wager you're tired of hearing jokes about your
province."
"Not at all," I said. "There's little fighting with real enemies to be
had these days, so I must make do with jesters."
The smile vanished, and he looked at me carefully.
"My apologies, Captain. But you need not be so touchy."
' am sorry, Count Lavedan. But such tales are more than
wearisome."
"I suppose so," he said, indifferently. "But if my state were the
butt of such japes, I think I'd just learn to ignore them. Words are
nothing but air, anyway."
I thought I knew a seer who would disagree, but said nothing. I
had no idea why we were bristling in such a manner; certainly my
attraction to his wife could not have been noticed, and I surely
had no right having any feelings about him.
"Would you like to see my study, Captain?" he said, changing the
subject. I said I would.
It was quite a chamber, cluttered with ship models, charts, bills of
lading, and the big table in its center overflowed with samples,
letters, and packages. The prize, though, he saved for last It was
a small glass case. In it was the model of a ship, one like I'd
seen moored at one of Nicias's landings. I saw it appeared to be
floating in water, then I looked more closely. It was a marvel: The
ship was animated, each sail, each rope moving, as it was driven
by an invisible wind. I looked more closely, and saw tiny men on
its decks, busy with their tasks. The water it floated in changed as
well, waves curling from the ship's bows and a smooth wake at its
stem.
"That cost a sum," Count Lavedan said. "The wife bought it for
me for our second anniversary last month. It took five seers to
come up with it. It's a model of my most recently launched
vessel, and it makes a real voyage, from Nicias to foreign
landfalls." He grinned fondly down at Maran. "The little woman
knows how to please, she does."
Again that look of the puppy waiting for punishment came and
went on Maran's face.
"Are you coming downstairs, Hernad?"
"Of course not," he said. "I'm busy, and besides, I have no
interest in whatever's being prattled by your latest charlatan.
You'll see, Captain, that while my Marat's got a sensible head to
her, at least for a woman, she really has no thought of how foolish
all these clowns appear to men of real sense."
Marfn reddened, but said nothing.
"At any rate, if you'll forgive me, I've got some letters to
compose," he said.
"Shall I knock when I come up for bed?" Maran said.
"You needn't bother. I'll probably be up most of the night." He
brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Nice meeting you,
Captain."
He went back inside his study and closed the doors.
Maran looked closely at me, as if waiting for me to say or show
an opinion. I showed none.
"So this finishes off the second floor," I said. I indicated stairs.
"Up there is ..."
"Third floor, my bedroom and Hemad's. Nothing of interest"
"As someone who's spent too many nights trying to believe a
rock can make a pillow, I certainly disagree with that. Only two
bedrooms for the entire floor? What else do you do up there
besides sleep? Have a small rol field? A swimming pool?"
Marto giggled. "No. There's dressing rooms, bathrooms,
reception areas." Her smile vanished, and she said, almost to
herself, "but we don't do much besides sleep up there." She
went on, quickly, "Above that, servants' quarters, then the
solarium, plant rooms, and such. All the areas we rich and foolish
people need to occupy our lives." She brightened, stepped back
and curtsied. "IM, sir, there you have it. The residence of Count
and Countess Agramonte and Lavedan. "Your opinion?'
I complimented her and we started back downstairs. This is most
strange, I thought. Married two years and each with a separate
bedroom. But perhaps that was how the very rich lived. As to
Count Lavedan's mockery of his wife's pastimes, I hardly thought
that a courtly thing to do. As we returned to * the ground level a
wistful thought came: If I were married to this Maran, I certainly
would have better use for my nights than correspondence. That,
too, was improper, and I tried to put the matter out of my head,
merely assigning Count Lavedan to the list of assholes I'd met.
It seemed no one had missed us in the round room, and the
party had broken down into a handful of hard-arguing knots, each
defending or attacking a different problem. Maran poured me
another cup of punch.
"While I'm delighted to have met you, Captain," she said, "I was
frankly looking forward to meeting your friend, the Seer
Tenedos." She motioned to the people around us. "Her-nad may
have been too... forceful, but he does have a point. Sometimes
the people I invite here are very long on theory, but haven't much
in the way of experience." Her face became serious. "But I'm
hardly one to talk. All I've done is be born and grow up rich."
A strange woman, I decided. Most mercurial in her moods. But
she would certainly never be boring.
Once again I found myself looking into her eyes, and once more
the vortex drew me. I pulled back with an almost physical effort.
"Perhaps you can convince your friend to come to another of my
evenings," she said. "Of course, I wish you would come as well."
"I could do better than that," I said, thinking quickly. It was wrong,
but I wanted very much to see this married woman again. "I don't
know if this is proper to ask a married woman, but the seer is
speaking two nights hence, three hours after sunset, at the
Morathian Hall. I would be happy to escort you there and ensure
you arrive safely home."
"Escort, my good Damastes, if you do not mind me calling you
that? That word is most improper, unless you mean it in the
military sense."
"What other way could I mean it?"
She smiled. "Since you have such a pure mind, sir, then I accept
the invitation. Shall I have my carriage pick you up?"
I bowed acceptance, and then one of the servants came up with
a problem for her to deal with. I drifted through the throng, never
hearing any of the earnest proposals being touted.
I was, in short, as dreamy-minded as any bumpkin who's just had
an invitation to a harvest celebration accepted by a lass.
The next two days swam past in a haze. I paid but little attention
to my duties, and even the dullness of my Tin Centaurs, as I'd
privately dubbed them, couldn't rouse my ire.
Half an hour before the time she'd said her coach would arrive, I
was waiting outside the mess, in dress uniform. Eagerness
played apart, but I also did not wish any of the wagging mouths in
the Helms to see us, although there was nothing particularly
irregular about the matter.
Her brougham was luxurious, red enameled wood, with gold leaf
covering it, and panels representing mythological events. There
were four matched bays, and the driver and an outrider sat atop,
and there was a stand for two more at the rear. Maran opened the
door and greeted me. She wore baggy pantaloons, which I'd
learned were the latest style, a red-and-black silk blouse that
buttoned demurely around her neck, and a hooded fur jacket
against the chill. Her face was a bit flushed, even though she had
the window rolled shut.
I bowed, kissed her hand, and climbed in. She shut the door and
we rolled smoothly away. The inside of the coach was silk and
comfortably padded upholstery.
"I am delighted to see you, Countess," I said formally. "And I
you, Captain." She smiled. "May I tell you something shocking?"
"You may tell me anything, shocking or no." "Here we are, on our
way to a probably boring lecture, yet I feel like I could be a
character in a romance, wickedly eluding her husband to meet
with a dashing lover."
I started to make a jest out of it, but changed my mind. "Thank
you, Maran. I am honored at the thought." I could not see her
expression in the dimness, and she remained silent for a
moment. I broke the stillness:
JR "I am curious about something you said the other night You
came to Nicias out of boredom?"
Mara"n considered her words for a few moments. "That is what I
tell people," she said. "But there's more than that My family, as
no doubt you know, is very old, and feels that all Numantia should
revolve around their best interests." "Most of us do, even if we
don't admit to it." "Not as intensely as the Agramontes," she said.
"My father, for instance, found me reading a book called The
Duties of Man a few years back. Are you familiar with it? Well, it's
a long essay that holds all men have a duty to each other, that a
man who owns slaves must take care of them and, in the end, the
Wheel will return him to a better position if he is willing to free
someone from bondage for performing extraordinary services.
We Agram ntes, by the way, have not manumitted a slave for at
least five generations that I know of.
"The book also says the rulers of Man have a duty to rule wisely,
firmly, and well, or else they forfeit their right to the throne. It says
that a benevolent, but staunch, monarchy is the best of all
possible rulers.
"Since my father is close friends with most of the Rule of Ten,
this is heresy. The book, by the way, while not quite proscribed,
is not in wide circulation.
"My family thinks that all is set, all is regulated, Irisu is the best of
gods and Umar was well to abdicate to him. They frankly
disbelieve in the merits of the Wheel, and while they'll grudgingly
concede a bad man might be taken down a few levels in his next
life, most of us return on the same level we died on."
"So a lord is always a lord, a peasant always a peasant," I said.
"Just so, from now until the ending of the world."
"What do you think?"
Mardn considered.
"I know what they believe is foolish. I know that Man, and this
world, must change, just like the seasons do. I don't think our
rulers are the wisest But what would be better?
'To be frank, that is the real reason I invite people with new and
different ideas to my home.
"¶Women are not given much chance to learn," she said. "I think
that, too, is wrong."
I couldn't but agree, and always had. Why was it accepted that
my father could have gone to a lycee if he could have afforded it,
but if my mother had wished to learn more than a tutor could have
taught, there would have been cries of horror? So, too, my
sisters had no chance of learning beyond the traveling teachers
my father could convince to stay on for a time, able to pay them
little but sustenance.
I chose my next words carefully.
"I guess, then, marrying Count Lavedan and being able to get
away from your family's conservatism was a great stroke of good
fortune."
Silence dropped around us, and there was nothing but the creak
of the wood and the clatter of the wheels on cobblestones.
"Yes," she said, and her voice was flat "Of course it was."
"What you are saying, sir, is nothing but high treason," the man
sputtered.
"Not at all," Seer Tenedos said calmly. "I said nothing about
overthrowing the Rule of Ten. They are our rightful rulers, and I
have served them faithfully, as you should know. Were I a man of
temper, I might take offense at your words. Instead, let me
reiterate the point of my lecture.
"I'll try to put it more simply. The Wheel turns. We agree on this.
It brings change, it brings new life. It dictates to all of us how we
must live.
"We Numantians must learn to obey this. We must change as the
years change. Once we had a firm, fair king, or so the legends
tell us.
"The Rule of Ten took the throne during a time of great crisis,
vowing to hold it only as long as necessary.
'This is what I am calling for. Is it not time for the Rule of Ten to
take a hard look at what they are, at what they have * done, and
perhaps hear the sound of the Wheel for themselves?
"Imagine this, sir. Wouldn't you agree that the Rule of Ten are
forced to spend too much time in useless meetings?" "Of
course," the man who'd leaped to his feet grudged. "Isn't it also
true they must spend too much time in never-ending debate
before a decision is reached?" 'Til accept that point as well."
"Then isn't it logical, and hardly seditious, to wonder if perhaps
their rule might be more efficient if, instead of ten, it were
perhaps five?"
"But that is the way it has always been!"
Now there was a bit of laughter here and there in the crowded
auditorium as the audience saw how Tenedos was leading the
man.
"Now we go back to my earlier point. Why does it always, always,
always have to be that way? Why is it treason to conceive of a
Rule of Five? Of course, it isn'tóthere've been times when
disease reduced their ranks and until new men were selected,
the Rule performed its duties and the world did not come to an
end.
"Consider further. Be bold, sir. What about a Rule of Four? Or
even... Three?"
"Or even One, sir?"the man bristled.
"You offered the thought, my friend." Tenedos smiled
benevolently. "So let's take a look at one."
"Who are you recommending," another voice asked. "Bar-thou?
Scopas? Mahal?" There was more laughter at this last.
"I am no politician, Lady," Tenedos answered. "I'm a sorcerer
who wishes to become a philosopher. So let us consider
something else, since we're talking about a single ruler.
"Let us consider none of the men who currently serve. Let us
imagine new, stronger blood.
"Let us talk about a man who comes from outside, a man who
hopefully has traveled all of Numantia, from the jungles of
Cimabue to the forests and farmlands of Kallio, not someone
who's spent his entire life in Dara or, worse, in Nicias.
"Let us consider a man who might consider himself a Numantian,
not merely a Nician or Daran or Kallian. Let us consider a man
who wishes to offer that vision to all the people of Numantia, who
wants them to look beyond their narrow horizons, and see the
greatness that is before them.
"I tell you, men and women, Numantia is great. We have our
problems now, problems most severe. But this is a passing
thing, something that could be, to history, no more than an
unfortunate note.
"If Numantia can be given a direction, its natural energy driven,
this nation could truly be the greatest of them all, and shine proud
in the heavens."
"We sure as hells ain't gonna get it from the Rule of Ten,"
someone shouted.
"Now, sir, be careful of your words. I respect your righteous
anger at today's situation. But there is nothing to say it cannot
change. Perhaps the Rule of Ten may wake on the morrow and
take a firm hold of the reins."
There was a buzz of scorn.
"That is your opinion," Tenedos went on carefully. "Let us return
to this mythical Rule of One. Imagine such a man who is not
afraid to make the hard decisions, who has a vision of the iuiure,
wuu tou inu uvui ï*.ª. ^v,ó, ________ the rear. Imagine the battle
standard of Numantia going forward ... and all of us going
forward, into the future, under it!"
I looked at Maran. Her eyes were shining, her lips slightly parted,
all her attention fixed on the man on the stage. Tene-dos's words
were ringing true to her, going straight into her heart such as all
the preachings in her salons had obviously not accomplished.
I myself had heard most of what Tenedos was saying before,
and agreed with a great deal of it, although I certainly wasn't
convinced that a Rule of One, a king, although he'd never use
that word unless he wished the Rule of Ten's wardens to arrest
him for sedition, was the only solution. I marveled at how carefully
he was able to skirt the very edge of treasonous speech without
ever crossing over.
* I wondered if he'd cast a Spell of Persuasion on the room, but
felt no unnatural working of my emotions, so eloquence rather
than magic was holding the crowd.
"Umar created, then withdrew," Tenedos said. "Then it was Irisu's
turn. But perhaps his rule is growing old, perhaps he is growing
tired. Aren't even gods permitted to rest?"
"Then the future will be Saionji's," someone said, and I heard
fear in the tone.
"Change is not always bad, my friend," Tenedos said gently.
"And to create it is sometimes necessary to do some
destruction. Perhaps you are right and it is to be the time of
Saionji.
"Think of it," and his voice rose. "If the goddess smiles on
Numantia, sees our lands as the hope of man, and chooses us
for her spearhead, what golden times would we li ve in after (he
change?
"I am a seer, and I can tell you, when the gods and demons let
me peep toward tomorrow, I see two visions. One is dark, a
once-great kingdom lying in ruins and ruled by the harsh hand of
outsiders. The other... the other is the dream I have held close,
the dream I have shared with you this evening.
"Thank you." He bowed and stepped away from the podium. The
crowd cheered, and boiled around Tenedos. Maran sat as if
she'd been hypnotized.
"Well?" I said.
She shook herself out of her daze.
"Thank you, Damastes. Oh, thank you for bringing me here."
"Come on," I said, a little uncomfortably. 'Til introduce you to the
oracle."
I took her elbow and led her around the throng to one side,
waiting until the congratulators and fawners grew fewer. Tenedos
waved me to him.
Standing beside him was a very beautiful woman, about his age.
She had brown hair, cut close, wore a green gown with a
matching head scarf. Her lips were full, lush, as was her body.
She seemed to see no one but Tenedos.
"Baroness Rasenna," Maran greeted, her tone formal.
The woman noticed Maran, and looked surprised.
"Countess Agramonte and Lavedan. I never imagined I'd find
you listening to the seer."
"Why not?" Maran said. "I listen to many. And the seer's words
make perfect sense to me."
"Yes," Rasenna said, almost in a sigh. "Perfect sense indeed."
Tenedos looked at her, and now it was my turn for astonishment.
His gaze was tender, loving. I wondered who this woman was
who had evidently, if only for a moment, managed to calm the
tiger of many bedrooms. Then he turned his attention to me.
"Captain a" Cimabue," he said formally. "Thank you for bringing
the Countess Agramonte and Lavedan." He bowed low over
Marfn's hand. "I am delighted to meet you. You must forgive me
for missing your assembly."
"Only if you promise not to miss the next one." "You have my
vow. May I bring Rasenna?" "Of course," Maran said, but I
sensed her response was only out of politeness. "She's been
too long a stranger at our house."
Tenedos turned to me.
"Damastes, there is someone you must meet." He indicated a
small man just behind him. "This is Kutulu. He is a warden who
came to see what perfidy I was preaching, and I'm afraid I've
corrupted him."
I would never have picked Kutulu for a man of the law. In fact,
from the gleam in his eye, I might have thought him to be one of
the crazed anarchists the wardens were always chasing after. He
was small, already balding. He wore dark clothing and would be
completely unnoticeable in a crowd. His eyes ran me up, then
down, and I felt as if I'd been reduced to a single card and that
card filed with others, never to be forgotten and easily
retrievable.
"Captain Damastes a Cimabue," he said, in a voice surprisingly
melodious. "I have wanted to meet you for some time now. We
shall serve together well."
* I blinked. Tenedos moved his head slightlyóthis was not the
time to question.
"I must return to my duties," Kutulu said. "Thank you, Seer. I shall
see you in the morning."
He might have been a magician himself for the ease with which
he vanished. Tenedos saw my puzzlement and pulled me aside.
"Kutulu came to spy, as I said, and listened to my words. Now he
is one of us."
Us? I started to say something, then stopped. Was I one of
Tenedos's men? At that moment, I realized I was, although I'd
sworn no oath.
"Kutulu is interesting," Tenedos said. "He always wanted to be a
warden, but the gods did not give him a bruiser's body. He chose
to use his mind, but as yet the wardens of Nicias little respect
intelligence." Tenedos added, softly, "That is another matter that
shall change. He shall be most useful in the future. It is good to
have a man who can... keep track of things."
As we rode back to my barracks, Maran told me who the
baroness was. At one time she had a fairly lurid reputation for
taking and discarding lovers, but her wealth had kept her from
being blacklisted, although the best families were reluctant to
invite her to their doings. Then she'd married, and her ways had
changed. She'd been, as far as anyone knew, completely loyal to
her husband. He'd died in a boating accident about eight months
earlier, and everyone in Nicias's high social circles had begun
watching Rasenna to see if she'd return to her old ways.
"But from the way she was talking," Maran said, "it appears she's
completely taken with the seer."
"Good," I said. "He could use someone beside him. I just hope
she realizes what he is. He'll never be a conventional person like
I am."
"Are you, Damastes?" Maran murmured. "I think you might be
selling yourself most short."
The coach pulled to a halt, and I pulled the window's drawn
shade aside. We were in front of the regimental area.
"Thank you for the evening, Maran," I said, and reached across
her to open the door.
Her perfume swept out like that fog in faraway Sayana, and took
me. Our faces were about a foot apart.
Again I swam in the pool of her eyes, then they slowly closed and
her lips parted.
I kissed her softly, just brushing her mouth, then my arm went
around her shoulders and she came to me, our lips crushed
together, her tongue moving deep in my mouth.
I don't remember the embrace ending, or stepping out of the
coach or walking back to my quarters.
SEVENTEEN Chardin Sher Now I wanted my life to be calm,
while I tried to work out this new and most vexing development. I
had no idea what to do about Marfn. I didn't know if I was falling in
love, still not sure what that feeling might be, but I knew I cared
more for her than any woman I could remember.
I knew I should never see her again. I had bedded married
women before, certainly, but it had been for a single night, a
momentary fling, and somehow I realized this was not in either of
our hearts. Was I prepared to assume the responsibilities of an
affair? I knew my father would growl and remind me of our motto,
and that its corollary was that we must also respect the vows of
others. I was a Cimabuan, not a Nician, who have the reputation
of always carrying their cocks low and ready, like a water witch's
wand, ready to stick them into anything that doesn't move fast
enough.
Practically, seeing Maran again was also absurd. If we did have
an affair, and word reached her husband, he could ruin me with a
single word or a note to one of his friends in the government I
needed time to think. But Saionji, who I was starting to believe
was intervening in Numantia's affairs, did not grant my wish.
The day after Laish Tenedos's speech, Domina Lehar told us the
Great Conference on the Border States would be held in Nicias
within two weeks. In fact, Chardin Sher, prime minister of Kallio,
had already crossed the border into Dara with his retinue, and
other state heads would be arriving shortly. But their importance
was secondary, not only because they represented smaller
statesóDara and Kallio were the two largest in Numantiaóbut
because Kallio had always been Dara's rival for the real power in
the kingdom. This was especially true now, since Chardin Sher
had taken the post of prime minister five years ago and had
shown himself an independent-minded ruler of great strength,
who only paid heed to the Rule of Ten when it suited him.
The Golden Helms were ordered to full readiness for the
conference, to provide security and glitter. Two of the city's other
parade units, the Nineteenth Foot and the Second Heavy Cavalry,
also had leaves canceled and all men ordered to stand by.
We would be spread most thinly, even so. The people of Nicias
pride themselves on never being surprised by anything. But this
appearance of Chardin Sher, the first time he had deigned to visit
the capital, set the populace atremble. His route from the docks
to the palace he'd been assigned by the Rule of Ten was laid out
in the broadsides, and every window along the procession sold
for a good price in silver. The streets would be jammed on that
day with spectators. Nicias planned to give itself a holiday when
the Kallian arrived.
"Is it not interesting," Tenedos observed, "how the masses will
flock around a man they know to be strong, even though he could
well be their enemy in a month or a year." He then added that he
himself hoped to meet Chardin Sher. When I asked him if this
didn't mean he was no different from the rest of us, he looked
angry for a moment, then chuckled. "That is why I like you,
Damastes. You serve to remind me I'm just as prone to the
passions and angers of the moment as anyone."
Now I was very busy, and Maran almost, but not quite, was put to
the back of my mind. I had B Troop out half a dozen times riding
the back streets that paralleled Chardin Sher's * routeówe were
to be the reaction element if there were any problems.
Fortunately, none were anticipated, except what could happen if
the crowd pressed too hard in its enthusiasm. We received no
word from the wardens of plots or anyone intending harm to the
Kallian. But to make sure of his safety we would have the
Nineteenth Foot along the parade route, and the cavalry units
standing by.
During the conference we would also be called to add glamour to
the various social events planned for Chardin Sher and the
others in every capacity from door openers to escorts. I felt less
soldier than body servant, and was reminded just how different
the Helms were from the Lancers by the fact my fellow officers
and soldiers were delighted by what was going on.
The two biggest events were a great masked ball, to be held
shortly after his arrival, and a banquet the night the conference
was scheduled to end.
The day before Chardin Sher's arrival, while I was busy grooming
that misbegotten vile-tempered black my duties insisted I ride,
while Lucan whickered jealously in the background, a uniformed
equerry delivered a sealed note.
To My Friend Damastes My husband and I have been invited to
the Masked Ball at the Water Palace four nights hence. Of
course, we accepted the invitation to meet Chardin Sher.
Unfortunately, Hernad was called away this morning to deal with
problems with our factor in Cicognara, and will not return for at
least a week.
Could I impose, and request you do me the honor of
accompanying me to the event, if that would not be too onerous a
task?
With fondest thoughts Maran, Countess Agramdnte and Lavedan
I should have told the messenger to wait for a moment while I
jotted a quick note of regret This was not only the path of
common sense, but what duty required.
Instead, I told the man I'd reply within the day, and, before the
noon meal, asked the adjutant, Captain of the Upper Half Lardier,
if there was a possibility I could be excused on the night in
question.
He glowered at me. "Captain, if you were a fresh legate I might
expect such a question. But from a troop commander? I hardly
thinkó"
Before he could continue, I handed him the invitation.
Instantly his manner changed.
"Ah. Forgive me. I see why you consulted me on the matter.
Certainly the Agramonte and Lavedans are important families,
and the last thing we would wish to do is give the slightest cause
for offense. But I must consult the domina."
He disappeared toward Domina Lehar's office, and was back
before we'd been called to the table. "The domina quite
understands the matter, and gives his full approval. He would
only ask you present his compliments to the Count Lavedan
when next you see him."
I blandly assured Captain Lardier I would do just that the next
time the count and I were socializing. I felt guilty, but only for
about three seconds.
That night, in the mess, though, a complication arose. Captain
Lardier, as I'd already learned, was a gossip of the first water,
and so the fact that I had an exalted friend was known to my
fellow officers.
I'd gotten myself my usual before-dinner drink, a glass of iced
lime juice with a sprinkling of sugar, and was about to join Legate
Petre where he sat reading, when I heard a burst of laughter and
my name mentioned. I looked across the room, where stood
Legate Nexo with a group of his friends, all equally snobbish in
their attitudes.
"Captain a Cimabue," he said, noting he'd drawn my attention and
smiling nastily, "I understand you've been most fortunate in being
favored by a certain countess. Might I ask what... hidden talents
you have, since none of us have even been granted a smile from
the beautiful one."
I certainly did not need a rumor like that to begin spread-
* ing. I set my drink down, and walked over to the legate, my face
set hard. He tried to keep his smile, but it slowly vanished the
closer I got There was some merit to the reputation Cimabuans
have as impetuous brawlers, after all.
My hand shot out, and he flinched, no doubt expecting to be
struck. Instead, I plucked the glass he was holding from his hand,
and sniffed at it "Legate, I perceive you have been drinking.
Otherwise, I know you would not have slandered one of this city's
most reputable families."
This was an angle of attack he was not expecting. "Captain, Ió"
"And now you argue with me?" I turned and caught the attention
of Nexo's troop commander, Captain of the Lower Half Abercorn,
senior to me with more time in grade. "Captain, if I may have a
moment of your time?" Abercorn walked over.
"Captain, this legate of yours had the temerity to insult a friend of
mine, Countess Agram nte and Lavedan, in the presence of
these other officers. He is either a fool or a drunkard. I cannot, of
course, call this lower-ranking man to account for his words, nor
would I sully my blade with his blood willingly.
"I could call for him to appear before a court of honor. But
considering the legate's youth and foolishness, might I suggest
you impose a more fitting penalty for a stupid boy?"
Nexo was purple with rage and fright. He knew better than to say
anything. I was beginning to enjoy myself. Captain Abercorn, not
known for being a swift thinker, stammered, then said, of course,
of course, this could not be permitted, and did I have a thought
as to what might be appropriate?
"I do indeed, sir. Perhaps you might bar him from the mess for a
month, and, since he evidently has a problem with the grape,
from drink for a suitably longer time. If nothing else, it will reduce
his mess bills."
"So ordered, sir. Legate, you heard what the captain said.
Begone with you, and I never wish to hear of another such
incident as long as you care to remain with the Helms!"
That took care of Legate Nexo. The rumor might persist, but it
would travel well underground.
I still would rather have smashed his face in, but this more subtle
army way of punishing Mm would be satisfactory. The only
reason it had worked was, of course, because of the fear all
these social climbers who called themselves soldiers had of
offending a powerful family like the Agramontes or Lavedans.
So I was going to play the fool after all. I thought about what sort
of costume the fool should wear, and, for the first time in my Me,
had to deal with the meaningless but worrisome trivia the very
rich fill their lives with.
I could not attend in uniform, of course. I thought of Vachan, but
that might trivialize the monkey god I revered. Legate Yonge had
a simple solution: dig out the rags I'd used to disguise myself as
a Kaiti and wear them. I considered that, but my skin
crawledóthey were my enemies, and I would not deign to
ennoble them in any way. Lance Karjan, who was definitely rising
above himself, suggested I go naked and back into the room.
"What would that represent?' "Why, a breadroll, sir."
I sent him to the stables and went to Tenedos for advice. He was
also going, with Rasenna. I'd spent a bit of time around her by
then, and, since I never paid much mind to people's reputation in
any area other man honesty, was beginning to like her. She had a
well-honed wit, and specialized in skewering the pretensions of
the nobility who swarmed in the capital.
Tenedos said his outfit had been decided on already by the
baroness: They'd be wearing furs and carrying clubs as the First
Man and Woman.
"Why don't you wear peasant rags," he said, "with a yellow silk
cord around your neck? Then look to see how many people
recognize the costume, and you'll know how much of a
penetration the Tovieti have made." I'd told imn, of course, about
the Marchioness Fenelon and her golden bauble, and he said he
wasn't surprised. I thought his suggestion interesting, but no
more.
* Other ideas were considered, but discarded as absurd,
expensive, or impractical. I guess half of the nobility of Dara was
going through the same pangsóthe expensive dressmakers'
shops were packed, and the carriages of their customers
blocked the streets outside.
Finally, I settled on the role of a wandering begger-monk,which
required no more costume than a baggy orange robe, a rope
around the waist, a hood, and begging bowl with hook to hang on
the rope. I added a half-mask and was content Mar&n came
down the stairs toward me, and I forgot whatever weak witticism
about needing but a bowl of rice before my prayers.
A sea monster's evil visage covered her head, except for nose
and lips, and wide, dark lenses hid her eyes. There was a small
hole at the back to allow her hair to fall free.
The mask flowed into the rest of her outfit, a shimmering light
green fabric that might have been silk but was not that clung to
her body from ankle to head. It was slit to her upper thigh, so
every step she took showed silken skin.
It hugged her form so closely it was obvious she wore nothing
under it. I could see her nipples under the garment, and I felt my
blood race. My reaction was obvious, because I saw her nipples
firm and rise slightly. I was grateful robes hid my own body's
response.
The dress had a subtle pattern that suggested the scales of a
serpent. The outfit was magical, and I mean that literally. With
each step she took, the colors of the dress moved as a snake
slithers, coils running up to her shoulders, then back down.
She stopped a few steps from me.
"Well?"
"Madam the Sea Serpent is the loveliest thing on all the oceans,"
I said. "Count Lavedan's sailors are very lucky real sea snakes
aren't so intoxicating, or he would have a great number of ships
drifting on the oceans after their crews jump overboard."
"I thank you, sir." Her expression became serious. "How-
ever, one request. I do not care to hear the name of the count my
husband for the remainder of the evening." That was certainly
acceptable to me. Martin pouted. "This damned business of his
in Cicognara. He could have sent an agent, but he had to go see
for himself. I think he didn't want me to be able to go to this ball.
"But there is always a way, isn't there?" "As milady has said, we
are not discussing a certain shipowner, so I cannot answer."
She laughed, a silver glissade of loveliness. "Your imagination
frightens me," I said, once more studying her costume.
"Anyone can imagine," she said. ' admire the two who were able
to build it. First my seamstress, then the seer who put the motion
spell on it.
"It will live but the evening," she went on. "Then it shall be nothing
but another dress. Not that it'll matteróI'll probably tear the
stitches getting out of it anyway."
I'd heard the expression being sewn into a garment, but never
imagined it could be real. I did not want to know what that dress
costóno doubt my father could have bought an entire season's
seeds for our estate and not spent as much. But the Agramontes
could afford any extravagance.
"Shall we go?" I suggested. "You might bring a wrap, although I
hate to ruin the effect of your costume. Since we'll be out of
doors it might be chilly."
"Already provided for as part of the spell," she said smugly.
"Besides, if I get cold I'm sure there's room for two under those
robes of yours, most reverend sir."
In those days the Water Palace belonged to the Rule of Ten,
although it was only used for ceremonial occasions. Now I am
very familiar with its every garden, pool, and room, since it
became mine not long afterward. But this was the first time I'd
been there, and so was in awe when we stepped out of Marin's
brougham in its courtyard.
It sits on a hill about three miles from the center of Nicias,
* in a -acre park. One branch of the Latane River flows close to it,
and water is pumped from the river up into an artificial lake above
the palace, where it is filtered until it is as clear as a mountain
stream. Then it's permitted to run down the hill in over a hundred
different stone creeks that feed fountains, purl over small
waterfalls or swirl in ponds where multicolored fish swim, and
then flow back into the Latane. Other pools are heated by
Nicias's omnipresent gas supply to various temperatures, and
are intended for bathing.
The palace is actually a series of buildings cascading down this
hill, each appearing separate but all connected through
underground passageways.
There are open pavilions, gazebos, and hideaways; the palace is
perfect for everything from a secret lovers' meeting to a Grand
Ball such as the one we attended.
I was right when I thought all of Nicias's upper class would
attendóthey were all there that night, and their costumes
dazzled. Maran was watched and commented on more than
most, but then, she most likely would have stood out if she'd
been wearing my monk's robes.
The affair was held in the palace's main ballroom, a great, glass-
domed structure that could have held twice as many people.
There was one orchestra here, and others scattered throughout
the grounds. Either by clever communication or sorcery, all of
them played the same tune at the same time, keeping in perfect
time with each other.
At the center of the room was Chardin Sher, and a long receiving
line snaked toward him. About halfway up it I saw the Seer
Tenedos and his baroness. We joined them, after asking
permission from those behind. Both Mar£n and I lifted our
masks, as had the others in the line. After meeting Chardin Sher
the mysteries could begin.
"What do you think of my ensemble, Damastes?" Tenedos
wondered.
"You're quite the First Man, sir," I said. "I didn't know he was
supposed to have been that hairy."
"I think my tailor became a bit carried away," Tenedos
explained. "Or else he thought I needed far more concealment
than I allow for."
If Tenedos's furs were somewhat exaggerated, Baroness
Rasenna compensated in quite the opposite direction. Her
costume began as a fur collar around her neck that ruffed down
just far enough to cover the middle of her breasts, although when
she moved her nipples peeped into sight. Fur went from the back
of the collar down her spine, between her legs and then up
across her hips to rejoin the spinal covering. She wore a wolf-
head for a headdress and short boots.
"I think the costumer believed mat the First Man was set down in
the icy south, and First Woman in the tropics, but Laish doesn't
like my theory," Rasenna said.
' didn't say that," Tenedos said. "I just said I didn't know how they
ever came together if your theory's right" "What Umar willed
would happen." "More likely the Man would've settled down with
the first friendly sheep he encountered and there never would
have been a Second Man," Tenedos said.
I was rightóRasenna was good for the seer. He was quite jovial
this evening.
But as we drew closer to Chardin Sher, his cheerfulness
vanished and he quit bantering. His gaze was fixed on the Kallian.
I followed his example, and let the women talk between
themselves.
Chardin Sher was tall, almost as tall as I am. He was thin, his
clean-shaven face almost gaunt His eyes were the palest hardest
gray I have ever seen. He was flanked by three retainers and a
third small man, who whispered in his ear each time a Nician
stepped forward to greet him. Two of the others were his
bodyguards, men whose eyes never stopped sweeping the
room, although their smiles and even laughter came mechanically
as required.
The third man made me start It was Elias Malebranche, the
Kallian emissary to the court of Achim Baber Fergana, whose
presence and even stranger disappearance had never been
explained.
None of the Kallians wore costume, and Malebranche turned,
and saw Tenedos and myself. I saw he still wore the fighting
knife in its horizontal sheath. He, too, stiffened, his hand
reflexively touching the knife.
At that moment I knew one of us would kill the other. I tapped
Tenedos's boot with my foot but he was intent on studying the
Kallian prime minister and not to be distracted.
Chardin Sher smiled, and said something to the couple in front of
Tenedos that made them laugh as they walked away, then the
seer was in front of him. The little man whispered a few words to
Kallian. Tenedos stood motionless for a moment, and I
wondered if he thought Chardin Sher should be the first to bow.
Then he inclined his head no more than politeness dictated.
Chardin Sher did the same, paying no attention to Rasenna.
"So," he said, his tone amused, "you are the wizard who thinks I
am such a threat Now you can see I am no more than any other
man."
"You have excellent information, sire. Would mat we had the
same for all that happens in Kallio." Chardin Sher frowned. "What
would that mean?"
Tenedos smiled and said, his voice an obvious lie, "Why, no
more man we do not hear nearly enough of what it must be like to
live in your state or in your capital of Polycittara, which I am sure
provides a fascinating life."
"Very good, Seer. You use more than magic to turn away a thrust
I see. Now, let me ask you, in all honesty, why you have been
preaching that I need bringing down?"
"I have never said that sir," Tenedos said. "I have merely offered
you as an example of ministers who seem to pay little attention to
their rightful masters."
"That is not true," Chardin Sher. "I do everything I am ordered."
"Ordered, yes. But if I had a servant who did no more than just
what he was told, ignoring my unspoken policies, I'd have him
thrashed and driven from my service."
"So that is what you would have the Rule of Ten do with me?"
The smile was gone from Chardin Sher's lips, and his stare was
the coldest of rage.
"I will not dare to speak for my leaders. If I could, though, I would
require certain things of you before you return to Kallio."
"What would you will?"
"That you formally renounce all of Kallio's claims to the Border
States and agree to join with Dara in mounting a punitive
expedition into Kait to finally reduce that country to proper
obedience."
"That would mean war," he said.
"I do not call suppressing bandits who call themselves a nation
war, but if you choose that term, so be it."
"And if I do not call for this crusade? The Rule of Ten haven't
suggested that to me at all."
Tenedos looked unblinking into the Kallian's eyes, and said
nothing whatsoever. To my surprise, Chardin Sher was the first to
look away.
"Yes, well, I'm afraid our chat's holding up the line," he said.
"Perhaps we should make arrangements to continue this
discussion before I leave Nicias."
"My time is yours," Tenedos bowed and stepped away.
Again, the little man whispered information, and I bowed to the
Kallian.
"You are the man who saved Seer Tenedos's life, eh?"
"And he mine."
"Guard him well, soldier," Chardin Sher said. "I have no magic,
but I can predict a man such as him will always be courting
danger."
"I thank you for that advice, sir," and I stepped away.
Chardin Sher's eyes gleamed as he took in Maran.
"Countess," he greeted after the briefing. "You are the most
spectacular thing I've seen in Nicias thus far. Thank you for
honoring me with your presence."
Maran curtsied, and we joined Tenedos, who stood a few feet
away, waiting. Rasenna was positively glowing, and seemed to
care nothing for not being spoken to.
* "You see why I love him," she said, unasked. "My little magician
will stand up to anything for what he believes."
Tenedos looked embarrassed at her words. I waited for a
comment, but, instead, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You
know, that small one mat Chardin Sher has with him. A walking
file. Interesting. Most valuable at times like this when you're
meeting strangers but courtesy suggests you should know
them."
"Perhaps you could train Kurulu," I said.
"No," Tenedos said. "He will have other, more important uses.
Such a man as Chardin Sher has must have no identity, no soul,
beyond what his master gives him."
He replaced his mask, and I remembered what he'd told me in
Sayana about never finding a man so monstrous that nothing
could be learned from him.
"Now the preliminary skirmishing is over," he said, "shall we enjoy
ourselves, even though I dance but indifferently? Oh, yes. One
thing, Damastes. I'll lay ten gold pieces against one of your collar
buttons that I never am summoned for a talk with Chardin Sher."
I grinned. "Sir, just because I'm but a captain doesn't mean I'm a
fool. No bet."
"Tsk. I do love an easy victory." Tenedos bowed to Maran and
led Rasenna toward the dance floor.
I took Maran's arm and followed.
Maran, naturally, danced superbly. I am regarded as a decent
stepper, but she knew all of the latest steps, whereas I had only
familiarity with older standards. So we sat out some numbers,
talking of this and that, thoroughly enjoying each other's
company. I thought, wistfully, it was like the beginning of a
courtship, when both parties are delighted over their lover-to-be's
wit, charm, and beauty.
A simple dance I knew the steps to began, and I took her in my
arms and we moved together to the music.
The material of her dress felt like silk, but where silk is cold this
was warm, living in the brief spell the magician had given.
I let my hand slip down from MarSn's shoulders to the small of
her back, and could feel the beginning of her cleft. I longed to
slide it down farther, and cup her buttocks, but knew better.
"You dance a bit closer than a chaperone might approve of,
Damastes."
"I apologize to the invisible iron lady. But not to you." "You are a
shameful man, sir. Does the army teach you such behavior?"
"That and worse, my good Countess. For instance, there is a
dance done by soldiers of my real regiment, in faraway Mehul,
when they visit the sinful dens of Rotten Row, that requires the
man to put both arms closely around his partner. Of course we
officers would never partake of such an ostentatiously sexual
pastime as that." 'Ts the dance slow or fast?"
"It alternates, and I've seen women leap from the floor and wrap
their legs around their accomplices, and then lean back until their
hair brushes the floor."
"Sinful, perhaps," Mar n said. "And definitely acrobatic." She
laughed. "Wouldn't that shock the good people of Nicias if we
suddenly began such a turn?"
"Possibly," I said, a bit drunk with the notion, "but I at least
wouldn't notice their response." "Careful, sir."
There was a touch on my shoulder, and I came back to earth and
prepared to relinquish Maran reluctantly to an interloper. Standing
there was Elias Malebranche. "Good evening, Captain a
Cimabue." Anger just at his presence flashed through me, but I
said nothing, and stepped back. Maran looked puzzled, but
moved toward Malebranche, ready to dance away. She smiled at
himóthe landgrave was a not unhandsome man, I had to admit.
"No, Countess, I am not asking for the dance, but thank you for
the honor," he said. "My master wishes to have further converse
with you." He nodded at me. "We shall need the honor * of the
lady's presence for only a few moments. So if you'll excuse us..."
Maran's face reddened.
"Captain," she said to me, "I am not sure I understand what mis
man really wishes, but I am most shocked he would ask me to
leave my chosen escort at his master's beckon, for some sort of
dialogue he is afraid for you to overhear. I gather you know him?"
"Yes," I said, pushing my own rage back, and put an expression
of puzzlement on my face. "Yes, now I think I do. Forgive me.
Countess Agramonte and Lavedan, tins is Elias Malebranche. I
believe he has a title... ah yes. Landgrave."
Malebranche bowed, Mar&i barely inclined her head. Before
Maran could respond to the insulting invitation, I said, in my
smoothest courtier's tones, "My humblest apologies, Landgrave
Malebranche. But I did not recognize you without your yellow silk
cord."
Malebranche's eyes flashed rage, and he spun on me.
"What does that mean, sir?"
Instead of answering him directly, I spoke to Mara'n.
"The good landgrave has close friends in the hills and now
elsewhere who have most unusual ideas on how to enrich
themselves. I shall not speak their name here, but his associates
are the sort of murderous scum you might expect a man who
behaves as he does to associate with."
Malebranche's words came through gritted teeth.
"Your manners, sir, are exactly what I'd expect from a peasant
foot soldier. My master merely thought the lady might enjoy the
company of a gentleman, rather than a mercenary from a
forgotten and barbaric state who's probably taken vows of
celibacy to match his costume."
There could be but one response to that. I was about to explode,
but saw Malebranche's hand unconsciously caressing the haft of
his knife. If I struck bun, he would be entitled to defend himself
by any means necessary right here, and I was unarmed, though I
feared him not in the slightest If I called him out, it would be bis
choice of weapons, and obviously he
was an expert with the knife. Maran, too, knew what must occur,
and her anger had turned to fear.
I don't know where I found controlóperhaps Tanis or my monkey
god Vachan granted me a boon. But I did, and said, in a fairly
calm tone, "Landgrave, I know what you wish me to do. But I
cannot. A Numantian officer must not duel with his inferiors."
"How dare you! The Malebranche family can extend its heritage
for a thousand years!"
"If that is so, which I doubt, then your ancestors would be
hanging their heads, seeing their descendant no more man a
false nobleman's pimp."
That did it.
Malebranche, his voice ice, said, "Very well. My response shall
be on the Field of Honor. Is that agreeable with you?"
I bowed agreement, and he stalked away.
The red anger subsided, and I looked about. Fortunately no one
seemed to have heard our exchange, and we were merely
getting puzzled looks as to why we were standing still in the
middle of the dance floor.
I took MarSn in my arms and moved away, pretending to dance.
"Now what happens ' she whispered. "Now I kill the bastard."
A few minutes later, Maran's temper roared back, and she
wanted to go to Chardin Sher and tell him what a contemptible
swine he was.
"If you wish," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'll cheerfully
accompany you."
"No you won't. I can take care of myself. Besides, you'd probably
take that wretched man's dagger away from him and stab the shit,
and then what would happen?"
"I'd be executed, of course. But I would die happy, and rise on
the Wheel for having served such a beautiful woman."
"Stop trying to calm me down, dammit!"
"My apologies." I started to say something more, that I had * not
been the one to insult her, but fortunately held my tongue. We
were alone in one of the gardens. We'd gone out of the ballroom
to calm ourselves down, and clearly it was not happening. Maran
stared out into the night. After a time, she turned back.
"No, Damastes. It is for me to apologize. I'm foolish to think of
going to Chardin Sher. He'll deny he said anything of the sort,
and then I'll be the fool.
"Why in the hells is it always the man who's believed?" "I don't
know," I said. "Maybe it's because man makes the laws."
"Well, it's stupid and it's fucked!" Her rage was returning. Her
dress seemed to respond to her anger, because the coils
seemed up and down her body.
"It is," I agreed. I didn't know what to doóthe evening was
ruined. I supposed that we should just leave quietly. But instead
of suggesting that, I took her gently in my arms, and held her
close.
We stood in silence for a very long time, and her breathing came
hard, then relaxed, then hard again, then gentled as she fought
for, then found, control.
"I am not going to cry, either," she said against my chest. "I won't
give that son of a bitch the price of one damned tear!" She lifted
her head to me, and her lips parted. I kissed her, and she kissed
me back, fiercely. Then she pulled away.
"I suppose he would have said how taken he was with me, and
perhaps I might be willing to meet him in his quarters later. He
doesn't impress me as a man who spends much time wooing
those he wants.
"But I've heard nastier suggestions," she said. "The sons of the
rich think they can talk like stable hands when they're not granted
their every desire, and have very strange ideas of what an
unaccompanied young woman might wish." A bit of a smile
came. "Although I've never had them from somebody as high-
ranking as Chardin Sher. I suppose I should be honored."
She laughed then, and the laugh was genuine. "I wonder how
Malebranche qualified as Chardin Sher's procurer."
"Probably sold him bis mother and sister," I said. I did not tell her
I knew Malebranche to be far more than just a pimpó I now
realized he was the prime minister's specialist for any and all dirty
work.
' shall tell you what we are going to do," Maran said. "We are
going back in there, and we are going to enjoy ourselves, and
forget about Kallians. I was having far too good a time to allow
them to ruin anything."
That was exactly what we did. Chardin Sher and bis lackeys were
gone, so it was not impossible. As the evening went on, it
became easier and easier.
The ball would last all night, but it was only a bit past midnight
when Maran suggested we leave.
"We have made our appearance, I've shown off my outfit, and
we've discovered Kallians are pigs. What else is there to do? I'm
afraid to eat anything or I'll burst out of this dress."
"Hmm," I said. "What an interesting thought Have you examined
that tray of eclairs over there? They look delicious."
"Come on, you lunatic Cimabuan!" She laughed, pulled the
serpent's hood from her head, and her hair fell free about her
shoulders. I unmasked as well and followed her.
On the ride to her house, Maria was quiet I assumed she was
brooding about Chardin Sher's insult, and so tried to keep a jolly
conversation going.
I stepped out of the brougham when it pulled to a halt and
handed her down. I was about to bid her good night, and go to
the stables for Lucan, when she said, "Captain, are you a
gentleman?"
"I would hope so, Countess."
"Then I can invite you in, although I have little idea on what to
serve a nonimbiber."
"In honor of the occasion, Madam, I will make an exception and
allow you to pour me a small bit of your finest brandy."
"You are a gracious man, sir, ever ready to help a distressed and
puzzled damsel."
* *
The house was deserted, and there were no servants about even
though the gaslights blazed.
"I suppose everyone thought we'd be out till dawn, and went out
to look for parties of their own." She frowned. "Very, very old,
brandy. That would most likely be in... in someone's study."
She led me upstairs, and bade me wait. I stood in the luxurious
halls, feeling foolish in my orange robes. After a moment, she
came out with a crystal decanter that shot reflections of the light
around the room.
"Let's see. Oh, I know. You haven't seen the solarium yet Come
on." She took my hand and led me up the stairs to the roof. It was
a large room, with a glass roof curved like the top of a breadloaf.
It was all done in white, wrought-iron chairs and tables, even the
frames that held the glass window panes. There were doors that
opened onto a deck.
I sat gingerly in an ornate chair, and Maran poured me brandy,
then sat down in a thinly upholstered lounge that looked as if it
would collapse if I had tried to use it.
"I wish to thank you," I said, "for inviting me to the ball. Otherwise
I would have been one of those poor cavalrymen we saw in the
streets, sitting my horse, trying to look noble and freezing my,
myó"
"Balls is the word you are looking for." "No it's not. But it'll do. By
the way, I meant to compliment you on your language. I didn't
know countesses could swear like you."
"You can if you grow up in the country and ride a lot. All my
horses respond better to that sort of language than cooing and
such."
"How odd," I said. "Army horses prefer soothing and gentleness.
Perhaps it's the unfamiliar that makes them listen."
I smiled, and she hesitantly smiled back. For a second, her
expression once more became that of the innocent expecting
punishment. She rose and went to one of the doors. I picked up
my glass and joined her.
Below was the river, and even at this late hour I saw the lights of
barges and vessels. I thought I heard something, and opened
the door. I was right Soft music drifted up from the water. After a
moment I saw where it came from: Far upriver a luxury ferry
moved slowly toward us, and there must have been a band
aboard.
I was standing very close behind Mar&i, and could smell, over
her perfume that was making me far drunker than the bit of
brandy I'd tasted, the clean scent of her hair.
She turned, and took the brandy glass from my hand, and sat it
down. "Now, you arrant bluffer, we are far from prying eyes and
we have a magically provided orchestra. I wish to see mis Rotten
Row dance, sir."
I hesitated, and the way her eyes boldly took me made the
decision.
"The hells with being a gentleman," I muttered, and her arms slid
around me, and she melted into my embrace. I slid my arms
down around her back and, as I'd longed, cupped her buttocks.
She caught her breath, slipped one leg between mine, and we
moved as one. I began kneading my hands, and her breath came
faster and I felt her nipples rise, even through my costume.
I felt my cock hard against her thigh, and she forced herself
closer. We danced like that for an eternity, and then I suddenly
realized the ship was long gone, and the only music we had was
in our minds.
She pulled me down into a kiss. Our tongues flared together, and
she moaned, moving her head from side to side, crushing her
lips against mine.
Then she pulled away.
"Yes, Damastes. Now. Quickly. Come with me."
Almost running, she led me toward the stairs.
I did not notice what her bedroom looked like, except that the
bed was wide, invitingly laid, and the sheets were silken, but as
warm as her dress. The room was lit by a single candle-like flame
from a lamp on a bedside table.
* We embraced once more, then Maran pulled away. Her fingers
fumbled at her neck. She muttered in frustration, and I hooked
ringers inside her costume, and tore. The stitching ripped with a
tiny shriek, and she was naked. "You," she said. "Now you. Hurry.
Please hurry." I lifted my robes away and kicked off my sandals. I
picked her up in my arms, and we fell across the bed. Her arms
were moving up and down my back, and she was moaning,
murmuring my name. Her leg lifted across the back of mine,
caressing. My fingers slipped down her body, the softest, fairest
skin I'd ever touched, shaven clean, and then I found waiting
wetness.
Her thighs parted, and she pushed up, against my searching
hand. There was no hesitation, no time or need for long fore-play
as I moved between her legs.
I touched her clitoris with the head of my cock, and her body
jerked. "Oh, gods," she said. "Oh, Damastes. Please. Please.
Take me. Fuck me, fuck me hard, fuck me now!"
I found the wetness, pushed, met hard obstruction, felt a flash of
amazement, then pushed once more, and Maran cried out,
guttural, a moment of pain, and then the tissue gave way and I
buried myself in her.
I lay motionless for a moment, then her legs lifted, and she
wrapped them around my lower thighs, and thrust up against me,
slowly at first, then stronger and stronger. My thrusts met hers,
and her fingernails dug into my back. Our bodies crashed
together, and then I broke and I could feel semen gush, and a
moment later she cried out sharply and her body jerked against
mine.
Slowly her throbs faded, and she was still, her breathing canning.
But I was still hard, still inside her, and rolled her onto her side
and began moving, and she moaned my name and once more
we were swept away.
"I've never done this before," she said, "so you'll have to give me
advice."
"Well, this isn't a good time to be biting. At least not very hard.
Use your tongue. Yes. Mmm. Like that. Now, take me in
your mouth. Try to swallow me." It was my turn to moan. "Now,
move your head back and forth."
The world was her lips around me, and I moved, and she moved
taster, and I lifted my buttocks off the bed, feeling her hair sweep
across my stomach my hands stroking the back of her head, and
Jaen took me in her embrace again.
She let my cock slip out of her mouth, and swallowed. "Thank
you, my Damastes."
"For what?'
"We didn't have time for dinner. You taste good."
Her words sent another spasm of desire through me.
She got up once to use the bathroom, and I glanced down at the
sheet. It was stained, but with more than love. There was a small
bit of blood where we'd first joined. I wondered what sort of
strange marriage she must have, then, guiltily, put the thought out
of my mind as she came back toward me and started to lie down.
"No." I stood up, and turned her around so she faced me. "lie
back on the bed. No, don't move up on it Let your hips touch the
edge. Now, lift your legs until your heels are on the bed."
I touched her knees and they fell open, welcoming. I slipped
between her thighs, and touched her sex, still wet with love. My
cock rose, and I slid it into her.
"Now, put your feet back on the floor."
She hissed and arced her back as I began moving in her, my
hands caressing her breasts, massaging her nipples gently.
We were never sleepy, never losing the savage desire to bury
ourselves in the other's bodies.
The world was silk, that single candle, and her body moving
under me.
Once, in a brief moment of sanity, I asked, "What of your
servants? Don't any of them have big ears?"
"Don't worry about it," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"I'm not a stupid woman, even if I'm not experienced * in adultery.
I made sure they knew, when they were hired, the Agramdntes
pay their salary."
"I was just asking. So what do I do now that I'm not worrying?"
"What I want you to do now is just what you did before. Except
this time, slowly, very slowly, putting it all the way in me. I like it
better that way. I want to feel you on my womb."
"Your wish is my command, Countess," and her buttocks rose
against me.
It was gray when I slipped out the door. I found the stables,
where Lucan was tied. He nickered a soft reproach at having
been left saddled for so long, and I whispered a promise that he
should have a meal of the best barley as my apology.
As besotted as any drunkard, I rode through the streets of the
city as the dawn rose golden over Nicias.
EIGHTEEN The Isle of Bones I managed to avoid the duty roster
for that day, but had slept only two hours when Lance Karjan
awakened me. "I know you told me not t' bother you, sir. But
there's a messenger, an' th' bastard insisted."
I groggily pulled on a robe, and found a plainly dressed man
waiting for me. He handed me an envelope, and I tore it open. It
read:
Dear Captain a Cimabue You will note I sent this letter in the
hands of a commoner. I meant no disrespect, but I want to make
sure we were able to satisfactorily resolve our differences
without interference.
While my lord, Chardin Sher, cares little about the death of an
arrogant Numantian officer, I recognize that you are bound by
certain conventions, from your Army's policies, to no doubt the
cowardice of the Rule of Ten, which surely would frown on our
meeting.
Since I have no friends in Nicias of the necessary rank, I hope
you will forgive this somewhat demeaning manner of conducting
business, in sending this missive by a commoner rather than one
of our equals and proposing the matter be dealt with directly.
But you and I need no seconds to settle things. If this
arrangement is satisfactory, do me the honor of sending a note
with this man giving the proper arrangements.
Landgrave Elias Malebranche The Kallian had a point. I bade the
servant wait, and scratched a quick reply. I told him I agreed, and
we could surely and honorably come to an agreement.
My arrangements were simple: We would fight at dawn, four days
hence; the location was the Isle of Bones, a certain island three
miles above the city and not the usual place for gentlemen to
settle their differences; and finally my choice of weapons was
sword and dagger, identical swords to be provided by me, and
knives of our own choosing.
I knew this last would surprise and please him, since it appeared
to be playing into his strength. But I had a small secret he wasn't
aware of.
I sealed the note, gave it to the messenger, and he touched his
forehead and left.
I was suddenly very awake, and told Lance Karjan to make tea
and prepare a bath. As he worked, I could see him casting
curious eyes at me, and so I told him what was in the offing. I told
him nothing of the night with Maran, but assumed he would draw
the obvious conclusions. If a man is never a hero to his body
servant, it's equally impossible to have a secret.
"Wi'out seconds, sir, or anyone else t'witness, what's t'keep th'
Kallian from pullin' some dirt?"
"Nothing. I've got to assume the landgrave is a gentleman." "A'ter
Kait, an' th' Tovieti, an' what happened in th' retreat, you're still
willin' t'give Malebranche th' doubt?" "I don't have any other
choice, now do I?" Lance Karjan muttered something he refused
to repeat more loudly when I asked him, and asked to be
excused after he readied my bath.
I did not see Maran before the duel, and I avoided Tenedos as
well. I was fairly sure if he learned about the matter he'd try
to use it politically and somehow damage Malebranche and
hopefully his master. In the process he would also save my life,
but that was the least of my concerns. All I could feel was red
hatred when I thought of the Kallian. I knew this was wrong, not
morallyófor anyone who would ally himself with the stranglers of
Thak deserved no kindnessóbut because anger is no good way
to fight. Finally I was able to reach a state of cool detachment,
and felt proud.
I sent a polite note to Maran, thanking her for allowing me to
escort her to the ball. I thought long and hard for some way of
saying what I felt, but was afraid the note might pass into the
hands of her husband. Finally I added that the night had provided
memories that would never die. I wished I was more clever, but
that was the best I could manage. I hoped she would understand.
I heard nothing for a day, then a messenger from her household
brought me an envelope.
It was unsigned. All the note consisted of was a time and day and
an address. The date was noon, one day after I was to meet
Landgrave Malebranche, and a line at the bottom said to present
this note. I managed to ride down that particular street while
carrying a dispatch to Domina Lehar at the palace, who was
dancing close attendance on the Great Conference, and saw we
were to meet at one of Nicias's more exclusive restaurants, and
didn't know whether to find good or bad fortune in that.
Now all I had to do was live through the encounter with
Malebranche.
I suppose I should have tossed and turned the night before the
duel, but I didn't. I ate lightly, for fear of a stomach wound, prayed
briefly to Tanis and Panoan, since in an odd way I would be
representing Nicias, and went to bed early. My mind wanted to
insist on planning the morrow, but I refused it permission. My
father had said one of the worst things a soldier can do is try to
determine the course of a fightóhe'll send premature messages
to his body, which it'll try to obey even when the foe is doing
something entirely unexpected.
I came fully awake when Lance Karjan touched my shoulder,
and washed and dressed quickly. Lucan and Karjan's black
were saddled out front, and Karjan had the case with the two
swords I'd borrowed from the arms room, blades with a reach,
weight, and balance similar to the weapon I preferred, which
was another small advantage.
My knife was light-bladed and long, almost eleven inches in
length, razor-sharpened on one side and about halfway along the
upper edge. It had a false hilt, a small fingerhold just below the
hilt so it would be far handier than its length suggested.
I'd noted Landgrave Malebranche's knife had a blade about eight
inches long, which would give him the advantageóa shorter
blade is always deadlier in a knife fight. But I didn't intend to fight
as if I were a tavern bully.
The streets of the cantonment were deserted except for the
sentries, and I answered their challenge and was passed through
onto the city streets. I had the time calculated carefully, so we'd
arrive at the dueling ground just at first light.
Lucan wanted to run, feeling the pure joy of being in the country,
when we came out of Nicias, but I held him back. The near-dawn
wind came off the river, carrying all the scents of the wild with it,
and I let it fill my lungs. Even though the river we rode beside was
mostly slough, it still smelled better than anything I could breathe
in a city.
The Isle of Bones is so named because the river's current
constantly washes driftwood up on its sandy beaches, driftwood
that whitens and ages until the island's rim looks like it's lined with
the skeletons of giants. It's only about a mile long, has a few
trees and, in its center, an open, sandy area that's surrounded by
bushes, perfect for two men who did not wish to be disturbed.
The river is shallow enough to walk a horse across everywhere,
so there's no need to search for a ford.
Lucan splashed over, and I bent low as we pushed through the
brush into the clearing. Landgrave Elias Malebranche was
already there, his horse tethered to a tree. He was alone, as we'd
agreed.
I dismounted, tied up Lucan, and took the cased weapons from
Karjan.
"You can wait on the road for me. If I've not returned within the
hour, I've told you what to do."
Karjan wasn't looking at me, but at the Kallian. A queer smile
touched his bearded lips.
"Aye, sir," he said. "Those were your orders." He saluted,
wheeled his horse, and disappeared.
I walked to meet Malebranche.
"Good morning."
"It is that," he agreed.
I opened the case, set it on the ground, and stepped back. He
picked up each blade in turn, hefted it, checked it for temper, and
made a couple of short thrusts.
"I'll use this one."
I picked up the other and walked to the center of the clearing.
Malebranche followed. I chose a good spot, and turned.
Malebranche eyed the ground, and moved to my left, about ten
feet distant.
"When the sun first shows, we'll fight," I said.
"Agreed."
It grew lighter by the second, and I tensed, breathing deeply,
steadily, from the bottom of my lungs as I'd been trained.
I'd taken but three breaths when there was a sudden shout of
surprise from the brush behind me, a clang of steel, and a
scream and then three dull thunks, like an ax cutting rotten wood.
Malebranche jumped in surprise, and his knife slipped into his
hand.
From the cover, four horsemen burst out. I had a moment to
thinkóbetrayal! Then I saw the first man was Yonge. The other
three I did not know.
Malebranche went on guard as the four rode toward us, but they
pulled their horses in before they rode him down.
Raw anger filled me, not knowing what the hells had happened.
Then I saw Yonge held a man's severed head by the hair. He
threw it down in the sand at Malebranche's feet. Two others
landed beside it, thrown by his henchmen.
* A fifth horseman, Karjan, trotted out of the clearing's other side.
"Sorry, sir," he said. "But some orders come before others."
I saw the sun's arc through the trees, but no one, including
myself, paid any mind. I was completely befuddled, but then saw
Malebranche's face, dark with anger... and something else.
"Your friends should learn to watch their back," Yonge said.
"They'd live but an hour if they were in my hills."
"I warned you, sir," Karjan put in.
Now it was clear. That I'd ever expected the Kallian, a man of
shadows and dark deceit, to be honorable in any manner was
stupid. His letter of concern that we should keep our meeting a
secret was the setup for a trap. I recognized two of the heads:
They were the men who'd served as Chardin Sher's bodyguards
at the ball, no doubt ruffians under Malebranche's command.
The Kallian cursed, lifted his blade, and two of Yonge's friends
had short bows up, arrows pulled to the head.
"You tell us, Captain k Cimabue, when we are to kill him," Yonge
said.
I should have told them to loose then and mere. It would have
saved some lives and me a certain amount of grief. But I did not
Even now, a far older and more hardened man, I don't think I
would have given that order.
"No!" I ordered. "He is mine! Landgrave Malebranche, the sun
has risen. We had an agreement. Ready yourself, sir."
Malebranche grinned, and started toward me. "If he kills me," I
snapped over my shoulder, "he's yours." Malebranche's grin
tightened, and became the fixed snarl of a trapped jackal.
I noted how he came at me, sword in a conventional fighting
stance, but his knife was held blade down against his hip. Very
good, I thought. As I hoped. He does fight like a wineshop bravo.
Now we shall see what we shall see.
My small secret was that one of the ways I'd been trained to fight
was with sword and dagger, which is a fairly esoteric
discipline. In this style the dagger is used as a parrying weapon,
and only serves to strike if the two combatants close, to take
advantage of a slip or to finish the battle.
Malebranche struck, a feint, and, as I parried, he jumped
sideways and his knife shot forward. He was quick, very quick,
but that was pretty much the attack I'd expected, and so I
slashed at his wrist with my dagger and we were both back on
guard.
He circled to his right, trying to get to the outside of my guard,
and I turned with him, then sidestepped and flicked my blade for
his throat. He jerked his head back, but my sword's keen edge
gashed his cheek open, and his blond beard reddened.
He grunted in pain, and struck at me, a slash I barely evaded that
cut through my tunic.
Without recovering, he came at me in a continuous attack, and
our swords were hilt to hilt, and I blocked his knife away with my
dagger. He tried to knee me in the groin, but I turned, smashing
his shoulder muscle with the butt of my dagger, leaping away, but
not quite quickly enough, as his knife seared along my ribs.
Then sand between us cycloned, and spattered at the Kallian. He
shouted in pain, stumbled, and fell, momentarily blinded.
I heard Karjan shout, "Kill the fughpig!" but I did not move. I
somehow sensed that wind's sending.
Malebranche rubbed his eyes, trying to come to his feet, and a
voice came:
"Do not move, Kallian, and set your weapons down. If you do not,
I shall slay you where you lie. Obey me, and you shall see no
harm." The voice, of course, was that of Seer Tenedos.
Malebranche gaped, and obeyed. He scuttled backward, and bis
eyes were wide with fear.
"There is only one reason you are permitted to live, Landgrave
Elias Malebranche, and that is I wish no stain on the reputation of
Captain Damastes a Cimabue.
"He is not only a friend, but important to me and soon shall be
equally vital to all Numantians.
* "Believe me, you, and your dog of a master, will rue that your
villains were not able to murder him, because Kallio will run deep
with blood, yours part of that river, because of his doings in the
near future, a future I see most plain.
"Now rise, leaving your weapons where they are, go to your
horse, and ride away. Do not look back, or your doom shall not
be delayed even a moment longer."
Malebranche, his face as pale as his skin, paying no mind to the
blood pouring from his face, scrambled to his feet, ran for his
horse, fumbled its reins free, flung himself into the saddle, and
galloped away.
Tenedos's voice came once more, but this as no more than a
whisper: "Captain a Cimabue, when you return to the city, and
your cut is bandaged, come immediately to my quarters!"
"You are an idiot!"
"Yes, sir."
"An utter moron!"
"Yes, sir!"
"I thought the tales about Cimabuans being thicker than bricks
were falsehoods, but now I wonder!" Tenedos stormed.
"Yes, sir." I was at rigid attention.
"I only heard of this matter last midnight, from Yonge, so all I had
time to prepare was a spell to hopefully save you from your
foolishness.
"What in the name of any god you choose were you thinking? Did
you imagine you could kill Chardin Sher's assistant, who, as you
probably do not know, was yesterday named as envoy to stay on
in Nicias after the conference ends, without your own head rolling
in the gutter?"
"Sir, he deliberately sought a fight"
"Do you always have to do what people always want you to?"
"It was a matter of honor."
"Honor can be easily redeemed without swordplay, sir!" Tenedos
snapped.
"It was not mine, but... someone else's."
Tenedos stopped his pacing and stared at me.
"Mayhap the Countess Agramonte and Lavedan?" I did not
answer. Tenedos's anger vanished.
"I see," he said thoughtfully. "Since you are a gentleman, and
would not answer me, I shall not inquire as to how far this matter
has gone, even though my question would be fueled less by
prurience than politics. Nor will I make any suggestions as what
you should do nor not do regarding the countess. I assume you
well know how powerful her husband is.
"By the gods, Damastes, it's hard to keep you alive long enough
to fulfill my promises to you!"
"Yes, sir. But I was not the one who pulled on Chardin Sher's
beard that he doesn't have."
"No. No you weren't. But that was calculated, unlike ... unlike
some other matters." Tenedos sat down, rubbing his forehead,
thinking. Then he rose.
"I have a seminar to instruct some dominas in how weather
magic can help them win battles in fifteen minutes, so you'll
excuse me. Oh yes." He went to a desk, and took out a leather
bag. "Here's gold enough to get some very good friends of yours
very drunk to repay a very large debt."
"No thank you, sir," I said. "I have money of my own. And if it's
not enough, I'll sell my sword for more."
"Very good. Consider this somewhat regrettable episode set
aside. But don't wander into dark places to meet men with
disreputable reputations any more than you have to. I don't know
where I'd find your replacement."
I wanted to ask Tenedos exactly what place he saw for me, but
then doubted if I'd want the answer, even if he knew it. I saluted
and left. I had to find a tavern to rent.
Yonge grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me close.
His words were slurred, since he was very drunk. I was not much
better. Although I'd held myself to only a handful of brandies, my
normally sober ways were not helping matters at all. Karjan was
trying to convince the tavern lass she really didn't want to sleep
alone, and Yonge's three associates, dis-
* reputable and dangerous friends he'd made in his whoring
about Nicias, were singing a balladóthree ballads, actually, none
of them capable of understanding the others' bellows.
"Y'know, Numantian," Yonge said, "I think I'll stick close with you."
"You've fallen in love, then?"
"Don't try to be witty. I'm serious."
"All right. Be serious."
"Do you know why?"
"I do not."
" 'Cause you're bound to be a gen'ral, and I've never been
around a real gen'ral."
"May Vachan bless your words."
"I don't know if that's a blesh... blessing. But you didn't let me
finish. You'll either be a gen'ral... or else you'll get dead doing
some fool thing that'll prob'ly end up being a legend or
something.
"Either way, I want to see what comes next."
He refilled our glasses until they overflowed onto the table.
"Now, put this away neat. You're not drinking the way a gen'ral
should."
I shuddered and obeyed.
The next morning I wished Malebranche had killed me. Lance
Karjan was in little better shape, but the hells with him. He didn't
have to meet a beautiful countess at noon. Fortunately I had
arranged with the adjutant to have the day off to keep my
appointment with Maran.
I drank half a gallon of water, pulled myself into my sports
uniform, and staggered out to the athletic field. I threw up three
times in four laps, went to the troop's bathing area and steamed
for half an hour, then leaped into the coldest pool in the building.
I went to the mess, and sweet-talked the cooks into a glass of
sharp fruit juice and three eggs beaten into an omelet made with
the sharpest of spices. That and a pot of herbal tea, and there
was a slight chance I would live long enough to greet Maran.
I handed Lucan's reins to a serving man, and entered the
restaurant. I thought it was best to come in mufti; the uniform of
the Helms was far too distinguishable for my purposes. I handed
Maran's note to the greeter, and he bowed.
"Upstairs, sir. Third door. Here is the key."
I went up the stairs, realizing that at no time had I been seen by
any of the restaurant's patrons. I began to suspect this eating
establishment's reputation was founded on more than culinary
skills.
I tapped at the door, inserted the key, and entered as laughter
tinkled within.
The room was small for a dining area, no more than twenty feet
by twelve feet, and high-ceilinged, with another door at its far
end. There was a table set for two in the center of the room.
Along both walls were couches wide enough to be beds and next
to one a sideboard with an assortment of bottles. The rag
beneath my boots was soft and thick enough to serve as a
mattress.
Sitting on one couch, an open bottle of wine in an ice bucket
between them, were Maran and a woman I did not know. They
both stood.
"Ah, so this is the brave captain," the stranger said. I bowed.
"Damastes," Maran said, "this is my very best friend, Lady Amiel
Kalvedon."
Lady Kalvedon was, even to my prejudiced eye, as lovely as
Maran. She was taller, and while slender, had larger breasts that
jutted from a very low-cut peasant's smock in silk that ended at
midthigh. She had the perfect legs of a dancer. Her black hair
came down to her shoulders in curling waves.
"Amiel has volunteered to do us a great service."
"Oh?"
"I am your apron," she said. Her voice was sultry. She was
looking at me carefully, and I almost felt like blushing, knowing,
for the first time, how a pretty woman feels entering a roomful of
men. I thought she was about to take out a tape, ask me to lower
my trousers, and measure the length of my cock.
* "Damastes," she went on. "Damastes the Fair, I think I shall call
you."
"I thank you, Lady."
"Considering what I am doing for you, and the terrible cost to my
reputation, you should call me Amiel." She picked up her
wineglass, while I stood there, puzzled, drained it, bent and
kissed Maran on the lips, picked up a shoulder bag, and went to
the other door. ' shall be invisible until four, children. So have
fun." She left.
Maran giggled. I saw that the wine bottle was about half-empty,
and her cheeks were a bit flushed. She was dressed
conservatively, in riding tights with a short flared skirt over them
and a loose blouse. She'd taken off her boots and they lay on the
floor, with her jacket and scarf beside them. "Do you want to
explain?" "After you kiss me."
I picked her up in my arms, and our lips slid together, her tongue
supping around mine. It lasted a very long time.
Finally, I broke away. "If that goes on any longer," I said, a bit
breathlessly, 'Til never hear an explanation. What is an apron?
And what are we doing to Lady... to Amiel's reputation?"
"Nothing, really. Here. Take off your jacket, get yourself some
wine, and sit down. Over here, on the couch. Lean back, and let
me take your boots off."
I obeyed. "But what will the waiter say? I assume there will be a
waiter."
"When I pull that bell-cord, but not before. And for what I am
paying to rent this room, we could be doing anything and he
wouldn't say a word."
"You still haven't told me what an apron is." "An apron is a woman
who keeps another woman company, who covers her when she's
having an affair, so the first woman's husband won't suspect
anything. Amiel, who's very close and the first woman I met when
I came to Nicias, is doing more than that. She's allowing word to
spread that she is terribly smitten with a certain young army
officer, so smitten she wishes to spend every minute in his
company."
"Suddenly she is my friend as well. But as she said, what of her
reputation?"
"She doesn't worry about that... nor does her husband. They
each live separate lives, and seem quite happy doing it" I'd heard
this was common in the upper levels of Nicias, but this was the
first proof I'd had.
"I see. Now, what was this affair to which you were referring? I
mean, what about my reputation?"
Maran laughed. "I've read about cavalrymen, so do not try that
one."
She leaned back on the couch, and stretched, voluptuously,
arching her back so her breasts rose proud.
"This restaurant prides itself on not only its privacy, but on being
able to fix almost any dish that could be desired. And there's a
menu on the table."
"I already know what I want to eat."
"Yes?"
I lifted her leg over my head and set it on the couch, then slipped
both fingers under her blouse, found the tie of her tights, and
undid it.
"You," I whispered.
I slid her tights down, and she lifted her hips as I did. I cast the
tights aside, then pushed her blouse up until her breasts were
bare.
"Are you going to let me get undressed?" she murmured.
"Maybe later," I said, and I teased her nipples with my teeth, then
ran my tongue down her flat belly to where her skirt was bunched,
then over her shaven smoothness and into her as her legs
embraced my shoulders.
We ate no midday meal that day, and it was just four when we
left.
I had made an interesting discovery that day. I held little use then,
and less now, for alcohol in any form. But I'd found out that a
hangover can make a man able to, in a rather indelicate
expression, fuck like a mink.
So our affair began in earnest, Maran plunging into it as eagerly
as I did. Before, I'd been slowly going mad with boredom, but
now I was very grateful for the lack of real duties. I'm afraid the
training I had been trying to give my Silver Centaurs, my Leaden
Lummoxes, was nearly nonexistent. Not that the men
objectedóthey gladly returned to their slothful ways. I should
have been and should be now, I suppose, ashamed of my
slacking. But with the Helms, it didn't seem to matter at all.
I was deeply grateful for Amiel's help, because I'd never been in
this situation before, and now realized how few places a married
noblewoman who wished to keep her reputation and her lover
could be alone or even innocently together with him without talk
starting.
I grew to like Amiel, and found that she was indeed a loyal friend
of Maran's, even though every now and then she eyed me
carefully as she had on first meeting, even though she never said
anything even slightly suggestive. She had little use for Maran's
husband, and sometimes referred to him as Old Copperbottom,
after the sheathing his freighters were given. She treated Maran
as if she were her younger sister, still unex-posed to the world,
and me almost as her own lover and cocon-spirator. She also
kept referring to me as Damastes the Fair, and it was annoying
when other people began using it. Mar&n, however, thought it
very funny.
But even with Amiel being an "apron," we could only expect her
to cover us so often. We became expert at finding restaurants or
taverns like the one we'd trysted in that first day. But even better,
since we were well into the Time of Births, and the spring was
gentle that year, was riding out of the city separately and meeting
at a prearranged spot.
We found wonderful places to be alone, from riverside shanties
to an abandoned castle so deeply buried in a small forest that its
existence had been forgotten, to mossy, secluded glens. There
were even places within the city, including a beautiful tiny rose
garden in the middle of Manco Heath no one but us seemed to
know of.
Mostly we met during the day, because it was harder to meet at
night. Even though Count Lavedan was frequently absent, I was
loath to visit their mansion, in spite of Maran's reassurance that
the servants would never talk. Of course she could not come to
me in the barracks ever, since that was not only against orders
but the jabbermouths who thought themselves army officers
would have broadcast her appearance across Nicias within the
hour.
It was a golden time, a time of honey, a time I wished could have
a stop and be forever.
But both of us knew it must come to an end.
We had barely begun our intrigue when the Great Conference
collapsed. The broadsheets said valuable matters had been
discussed and there would be another meeting "in the near
future." The states' leaders held their final banquet and then went
separate, supposedly cordial ways.
But the word on the street was that the conference had been
acrimonious and a disaster.
Tenedos had fuller details, which I assumed he'd gotten from
either Mahal or Scopas. As expected, the problem had been
Chardin Sher, who behaved as if he were a full member of the
Rule of Ten rather than their subordinate.
Matters came to a head when Mahal, no doubt at Tenedos's
prodding, insisted the matter of the Border States' sovereignty
be brought up. Chardin Sher said since there was strong
historical precedent for the areas to be annexed to Kallio, that
would be his suggestion to improve the situation.
"That would certainly," he added, "be a way of pacifying them for
good and all."
Barthou had fallen into the trap, and asked why that should be.
"Because, with a strong man who's willing to provide law to those
savages, backing it up with the full force he is capable of, these
damnable hillmen would no longer be the thorn in Numantia's
side as they have been for many generations."
Chardin Sher put emphasis on the last, and Barthou began
growling in anger.
Then Chardin Sher had said the Rule of Ten should think about
what the other states had been concerned about for years: Why
was this great country ruled only by men who came from Nicias?
Farel had acidly wondered if Chardin Sher had a better idea, and
Chardin Sher said he had, and it was quite simple: The Rule of
Ten should be immediately changed, so its representatives
came from all Numantia. That tore it.
Tenedos said there'd been a screaming match, with very ill-
chosen words being used on both sides, from weddings to
traitor. "So what does it mean?" I asked. "It means Chardin Sher
will return home to the cheers of his countrymen. He stood up to
those fools in Nicias, in their eyes. He'll then start quietly building
up his armies, and possibly making alliances with some of the
other states who little like Nicias or the Rule of Ten." "War?"
"Not for a while. But there will be border incidents that justify
Chardin Sher having a bigger and bigger army. Then ... then he'll
think about marching west."
But Tenedos was wrong. Chardin Sher was a far more subtle
strategist than that I glanced at the large painting, and was about
to pass on, when Maran said, "Well?"
I studied the picture more carefully, not sure what I was
supposed to say. It showed a great house, more a castle,
actually, sitting on the rocks above a river. The house was of
stone, and I counted five stories, then the machicolated roof. On
the river side jutted four-sided towers and on the one landward
one I could see was a smaller round tower.
To the right was a wooded park, with horsemen, and on the left
smoke rising from the roofs of a small village. The river in front of
the house was calm, and there was a small boat on it,
with a liveried man at the sweep and, in the bows, a young girl
wearing pink. I attempted a joke.
"The king who built that had a very guilty conscience. Or else
some very powerful enemies."
Maran giggled. "Both, actually. But be careful of your words,
sirrah. Look closely at the plate."
I did, and winced, once again having spoken before I knew what
was going on. The brass plate read:
IRRIGON, SEAT OF THE AGRAMONTE FAMILY. A LOAN It's
one thing the idea of how rich someone is, and another seeing
the reality. Even though I knew of the Agramontes' vast wealth,
and had seen Maran's house here in Nicias, it still was staggering
to see a building of this enormity and realize it belonged to one
family.
Maran touched the girl in the boat. "That is my mother. The
painting was done just after she and my father married. She was
only fourteen."
"That was where you grew up?"
"There, mostly, although I spent time at some of our other
estates."
I marveled once again, and wondered how many people it took to
manage such a monstrosity. "It must have been interesting
growing up there. Any family ghosts in particular?"
Maran, in one of those sudden mood changes I was still learning
to accept, was instantly very serious. "Interesting? Maybe that's
the word to use among polite company.
"I thought it was mostly hell."
She stared at the painting. "Yes," she repeated. "Mostly hell."
An hour later, we were finishing the remains of our picnic in the
park that stretched behind the museum. I'd made another
discoveryóno one ever thinks of illicit liaisons in the palaces of
culture. So we'd sometimes meet in museums, galleries, or
concerts. After we were assured we hadn't been followed, we
could go elsewhere to be alone. Even though I was * hardly
interested in my surroundings, little by little I was picking up a bit
of polish.
We'd made passionate love in her carriage on the way to the
museum, and I wanted her again, but sensed this was not the
time to suggest it. She'd always been reluctant to talk about her
family, and after her words in the huge building behind us, I
understood why. But I wanted to know more.
She looked at me quizzically after I repacked the basket. "You
have been quiet. Are you mad at me?" "Now why would I be
that?" "I don't know. Maybe because of what I said?" "About your
home?" She nodded.
"Not mad, my love," I said. "You can do anything, feel anything
you want about your family, including having murderous intent.
But if you want to tell me more, I'll gladly listen." She hesitated,
then began, without preamble. "Everyone seems to think living in
a castle is some kind of dream. But it's not. It's cold, and the
stone walls echo, and all the rooms have to have fireplaces.
"That's what I remember most. Being cold." Her voice lowered.
"Inside and out." She looked away from me, perhaps hoping I'd
stop her from going on. But I remained silent.
"I'm the last-born, and my three brothers are all quite a few years
older than I am. I guess my parents thought they were through
with children, although they never said anything.
"My father... well, he's the Agramonte. Very severe, very
righteous, always aware of what he's saying to make sure he
doesn't present an untoward image to outsiders. He was always
kindly to me, but remote, and became nervous if he spent very
long with me, and quickly called for one of my nursemaids on the
pretext that he was boring me.
"My brothers were, well, brothers. I always wanted to tag along
with them, and for a while, when I was a baby, they'd tolerate me.
But pretty soon I got older, and they had their own interests, and
so they'd go to a lot of trouble to avoid me.
"In some ways, mat didn't matter, because all they like are
hunting, and auctions and talking about crops and how the
government is incompetent and taxes are too high and all slaves
are lazy spoilers." She shrugged. "Typical country lords, in other
words. When I turned thirteen, all their friends realized I existed
and came flocking around, trying to get into my knickers."
"What about your mother?"
"She died," Maran said shortly. "About three months after I
married. I think it was out of pure happiness for the marriage
she'd help make for me."
I kept silent, and reluctantly Maran went on.
"She was the daughter of another noble family, of course. They
weren't rich, but they weren't poor. The reason my grandfather
wanted her to marry my father was because her family owned a
strip of land between two of our estates.
"So that was the dowry she brought to her wedding bed.
"But she was quite happy, having married into the Agramontes.
Indeed, she became the social arbiter for the familyówho were
our equals, our inferiors, our superiors. Fortunately for her, there
weren't many of the latter. Like my father, she always worried
about our role in society.
"When suitors started calling on me, she would barely greet them
before looking them up in one of the peerage books, to make
sure they were noble enough to be able to put their hand up my
dress." She made a wry face,
"In the country, at first they try to fuck you, then, if they can't do
that, they decide you should become their bride. Then they fuck
your lights out until you're flabby with a dozen children and they
get bored and start spending nights in the servants' quarters or in
the city with a mistress." She gloomed in silence for a bit.
"That was your introduction to love?"
"Not quite. I'd read romances, and frankly dreamed of the day I'd
have swains dancing around me. I just didn't realize what the
acceptable ones would be like.
"Maybe I should have run off with the first boy I fell in love with."
* "Thank Irisu you didn't," I said.
"Poor fellow," she said, paying no attention to me. "He was the
son of my father's coachman, and I still remember his grin, and
his curly hair. He had green eyes, and smelled most mar-velously
of horses.
"I was half in love with horses, then," she explained, "sometimes
wishing I was one, and if I couldn't find a centaur, I would settle
for him." "What happened?"
"My mother found out about it, and within the day the family was
sent away. Later, after I was married, I tried to find out what
happened to him... them. All I could learn was they came to
Nicias, and that was all."
Maran peered at me. "You don't mind me telling you this?
Nobody but Amiel's ever heard my silly little tale."
"Why should I mind?" I wondered. "Should I be jealous of a
schoolgirl infatuation?"
"Why not," she said, her good humor returning for an instant. "I'm
jealous of every girl you've been with."
"Ah, but there weren't any," I said, looking pious. "I was a
complete virgin until I met you."
"Right." Maran thought for a moment. "I guess, growing up, I was
like some kind of doll. Everybody got to dress me up like they
wanted, and show me off here and there, but what I wanted...
well, mat didn't matter. My father wanted me to look like this, my
mother wanted me to act like that, and nobody ever asked what
did Mar&i want. Not then, not ever. "I was cold... and I was lonely.
I never really had anyone to play with. When I was very little, I
could romp with the children of our retainers or slaves, but I
found out quickly they always made me queen or commander or
whatever in every game we played, and made sure it was a game
I wanted to play. Then, when I got older, there was no one,
although once a month or so we'd visit some other noble family,
and I'd get a chance to play with their children, if they had any."
She looked at me wistfully. "I wish I was more like you."
I'd told her a bit of growing up in Cimabue, and of my love for
solitary wanderings in the jungle.
"So I read all I could," she went on, "especially about cities, and
dreamed of the day I could come to Nicias. I remember reading
a poem once, about a man who came from the black forests, and
even though the city had become his home, the coldness of
those dark woods would be with him until his dying day. I
wondered if that was me."
"I will loudly testify there is nothing cold about you, Countess." At
least that elicited a bit of a smile.
"You know," she continued, "I never thought I' d be married when
I did."
"What did you want to do?"
"Don't laugh. But at one time I wanted to be a courtesan. I'd be
young, and beautiful, and all my noble lovers would pay for a
night with me with a carriage full of gold, and they'd want to leave
their nasty wives, but I'd just laugh and dance away."
"It's a good thing you didn't actually do that," I said. "Else you
would have found most whores' customers are fat, old, unbathed,
and have, shall we say, unusual tastes."
She stared at me, and her face was hard. Now it was my turn to
apologize.
"Never mind," she said. "I just thought of something that... that
wasn't very nice. Anyway, if I wasn't going to be a courtesan, I'd
be some kind of very intelligent woman, and help philosophers
and kings reach mighty decisions.
"That's the real reason for my salons. I guess I'm trying to give
something to that poor lonely little girl that doesn't exist
anymore." She turned away, but I saw her eyes fill. I reached out
for her hand, but she pulled it away from me.
"But then, as I said, I got older, and then the wooing began.
There was one boy I liked, who always made me laugh, and I
looked forward to his visits. He was noble enough, but his family
didn't have any gold, and so one day he, too, vanished. "One of
my brothers told me later his father had been given a goodly sum
to keep him from caning again.
X "You see what it was like?"
This time she let me take her hand.
"When I was sixteen the whole thing became a frenzy. There
were balls, riding events, social evenings, and I had never a
moment to be alone.
"I might have liked it, if I hadn't known all of this had but one
purpose: to see me married to the most suitable man my family
could find. Suitable to them.
"That went on for a year, and then my father brought Her-nad
home. Lord Lavedan. I thought my mother would expire in joy,
finally having someone 'of the proper station' calling on her only
daughter. As I said, not much later, she did just that "Somehow
everyone, all of these sparkling young men, knew the issue was
settled, and instantly found other flames to flit around.
"When my tamer introduced me to him, it was over, and my life
was determined for all time."
I waited for her to go on, but she remained silent. Then she
looked at me.
"I guess you think this is all shit. Poor little rich girl, and she
should maybe have been bom in a hovel and learn what real
misery's about."
"No," I said truthfully. "I've known people who were poorer than
poor, and were happy. Please, Margn, stop belittling yourself."
She kept staring into my eyes, as if unsure of whether to believe
me or not. Suddenly she jumped to her feet.
"Come on, Damastes. I want to go home. I've ruined this day for
the both of us."
I protested nothing was ruined, that it was important she tell me
these things, but she would have none of it, and so we returned
to the carriage and she took me back to the stables where I'd left
Lucan. She just pecked my lips when we kissed good-bye, and I
desperately wished there was something I could say or do to
make her feel better. But there wasn't, and so her carriage rolled
away.
As I rode back to the Helms' cantonment, I thought again VS
and again of what she'd told me. It was odd, with the exception of
her wealth, how similar our childhoods were. But one produced a
woman who was, I was learning, desperately unhappy, and the
other a man who was quite the opposite.
That night, waiting for tardy sleep, I thought again on the matter. I
suddenly recognized one difference: I did what I did out of
choice, whereas she was never consulted about anything. Then I
thought this happenedóhappensóto almost all women I've
known. Everything they were permitted to do was decided by a
man. By a man or, like Maran's mother, someone who delighted
in doing men's every bidding.
I wondered how Numantian thinkers could rail on about the
injustices done to slaves, or the poor or the benighted hill tribes,
and never look across the pillow and see an even greater,
omnipresent evil.
I set that out of my mind; if a soldier could barely hope to
influence the course of a single skirmish, how could he hope to
change what appeared to be immutable custom? Perhaps the
only way things could change was if Tenedos's goddess, Saionji,
was given her head and allowed to tumble society until it was
entirely different. But that made me shudderówho was to say the
goddess preferred things different?
Then another insight came. The biggest real difference between
Maran and myself was that I grew up in a house of love, even
though it wasn't spoken aloud that much. I was forever being
given a hug by my mother, a loving pinch from one of my sisters,
at least when they weren't angry with me, and a smile from my
father when he passed.
But poor Mar£n? At no time in her story had I ever heard her use
that word, and wondered if she knew what it was.
As I drifted off, a single clear thought came, and I don't think I
realized exactly what it actually meant: Perhaps she didn't. But by
the gods, I was going to do all I could to teach her.
We were lying naked in the sun, our horses tied a few yards
away. I was slowly rubbing a soothing antiburn balm on the *
backs of Mardn's thighs. She purred contentment, and slid her
legs apart.
I dipped my finger into the oil, ran it up the center of her buttocks,
and slid it into her. It met no resistance, but her body jolted,
stiffened as if I'd hurt her.
"Don't do that," she said, her voice hard, cold.
I stopped, and said I was very sorry.
"Never mind. Just... just don't do that. I really don't like it."
I apologized again, and began stroking her shoulders.
She lay with her head turned away from me. After a while, she
said something very strange.
"The morning after I was married," she said, in a completely
toneless voice, "I walked into my dressing room, and saw the
face of a stranger."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I looked like a little girl," she said, almost in a whisper. "A little
girl who's gotten lost, and can't figure out why, or what she could
do to find herself."
Now began a bad time for Nicias, and other cities in Dara. It was
as if Chardin Sher were some sort of wizard, and had cast a
curse on us.
The Rule of Ten seemed almost invisible, and the few decrees
they handed down had little to do with our problems.
Prices for staples, supposedly regulated, rose and fell like the
tide. People began hoarding, especially the middle class who
could afford it. There were shortages in oil, rice, butter in the
poor sections of the city.
There were many more street speakers, each with a different
solution to the woes of the times.
They had to fight for sidewalk room with a new plague: Nicias
was inundated with magicians, and it felt as if we were back in
Sayana, seeing everything from fortune-tellers to palmists to
conjurers to those who would sell you anything from a love-philter
to a poison.
Tenedos said this was truly a sign of evil. "Without insulting my
own profession, not even these charlatans, when a populace
feels change ahead, feels that the very ground under its feet may
be quicksand, it seeks out those who claim to have answers." He
smiled wryly. "Although perhaps I shouldn't complain, since now
the auditoriums I speak in are always packed. I just wish I knew if
anybody is actually listening, or if they're jumping from seer to
seer like bees crazed on pollen."
I also noted that the temples were full, not only the great shrines
to our principal gods, but also the smaller ones that worshiped
their separate aspects or even for lesser godlets. Aharhel, chief
of those aspects and the minor gods, who can speak to kings,
was particularly popular, although I saw processions for
everything from Elyot to many-headed animal gods I'd never
heard of before. I even saw two or three parades whose
members were loudly chanting Saionji's name.
When I reported this to Tenedos, he nodded in satisfaction. "As I
told you, her time is coming round." There seemed to be more
crime, both casual robberies and thefts, but also horribly vile and
senseless atrocities, committed not only by the desperate poor,
but by some of the city's supposed best citizens.
I imagined Nicias as a beautiful silken garment that a thousand
thousand hands were pulling at, and slowly, very slowly, the
garment was beginning to rend.
I received a note from Maran, brought by one of her personal
servants, asking me to meet her on the morrow at the restaurant
we'd begun our affair at. Her note said Important, and the word
was underlined twice.
Once again, I had to beseech the adjutant to let me have the day
off, and he frowned, said something about young captains
needing to pay more attention to their duties, but granted my
wish.
I wondered what had happened, if Hemad had discovered our
affair. I even wondered if she'd become pregnantóour affair had
lasted for four months now. I'd tried to
take precautions after that first mad night, but she'd refused to
allow it.
But it wasn't Maran's problem, but rather her friend's.
Amiel sat sobbing on one couch, and Mar&i was trying to comfort
her. She calmed, and told me what had happened.
About five years ago, she and her husband had taken a couple,
the Tansens, into their service.They'd been perfect in every way,
so much so that Lord Kalvedon asked the couple to move into
one of the cottages on their estate. The couple had performed
almost every service for the family, from groundskeeping to
shopping to simply keeping their masters company. They'd had
two children, "babes like I'd want," Amiel said, "if I ever wanted
children. Beautiful little ones." The woman had been supposed to
go with Amiel that morning to visit her milliner. But she had not
come up to the Kalvedans' mansion when she was supposed to,
and so Amiel went to see what was the matter.
"I thought maybe one of their children was feeling poorly, and I'd
tell her to forget it. I'm a big girl, and could buy ribbons by
myself."
The cottage door was unlocked, and Amiel pushed it open, then
screamed.
Sprawled on the floor was the woman, and beside her one of the
children. In another room lay her husband. All three of then were
dead, strangled with a yellow silk cord.
"But that wasn't the worst," Amiel said, and started crying again. "I
went into the little room they used as a nursery. The baby... she
was dead too. Killed like the others!
"What kind of a monster could do something like that?"
I knew what sort. Tovieti. So the yellow cord was now more in
Nicias than whispers and a bauble worn by a foolish rich woman.
But what did this have to do with me? Hadn't she reported it to
the wardens?
She had, but it seemed as if they didn't care. Either that, she
went on, or else they were afraid. "Probably."
"More than that," Amiel went on, thinking aloud. "They acted
like... like this was just some sort of horrible routine. I know the
Tansens weren't rich like I am... but they were my friends!"
"What should she do?" Maran asked. "I called you because my
husband said something once, back when you and the seer were
testifying before the Rule of Ten, that you'd encountered a cult of
stranglers in the Border States that the councilors closed the
room to hear about."
I said I didn't think I could discuss that, but that there had been
some truth to what her husband had heard. I knew of these
people, and how dangerous they were.
"If they came into our estate, past the guards, over the walls
without anyone crying the alarm... they could come back," Amiel
said. "Do they want me? Do they want my husband next? What
should I do?"
Privately I thought that if the Tovieti wanted you, you would
probably not be safe in the middle of an army camp. Instead, I
said mat they kept apartments in town, did they not? They should
move into them this very night. As for being secure, I suddenly
remembered a man, no, four men, very unlikely to be Thak's
stranglers.
"Write the address down," I told her. "I shall have tins man call on
you this evening. Pay him well, he and any associates he brings,
and obey his orders exactly. You can trust him, even though he
looks a bit disreputable. He's held my own life in his hands. "His
name is Yonge."
I finished telling my story about the slaughter of Amiel's servants,
and how the wardens treated it as commonplace, and was silent.
Tenedos made no response, but turned to the young warden.
"Kutulu?"
"Routine is exactly what it is," he said. "There have been four
hundred and sixteen such murders within our jurisdiction within
the last two months. Rich, poor, it does not seem to matter.
Sometimes the place is looted, sometimes not. It seems that the
murderers' campaign is less for gold than to create chaos and
dread."
"Yet there's no outcry," I said.
"We are doing our very best to keep the matter hushed," Kutulu
said.
"Why?" Tenedos asked.
"Those are the specific orders of the Rule of Ten."
"What the hells good does that do?" I said angrily. "Ignoring it
won't make them go away. What the hells will it takeó Thak
dancing on their gods-damned skulls?"
"Thak?" Kutulu looked puzzled. Evidently the Rule of Ten didn't
even trust their lawmen with all the facts.
Tenedos looked at me.
"Go ahead, Damastes. We can't follow the Rule of Ten's orders
anymore. The times are far more perilous than any of them... and
perhaps we, as well... realize. Tell him everything."
The next evening, I was riding to meet Maran when I saw a rider
coming toward me. I recognized him before he saw me, and
pulled Lucan behind a high-piled produce cart.
It was Elias Malebranche. He wore a hooded cloak, the hood
pulled back. He rode close, but didn't recognize me, since I'd
slipped from the saddle and was pretending to examine one of
Lucan's hooves.
As he passed I chanced a look, and saw, above his beard and
burying itself into it, the savage redness of a half-healed scar. I'd
marked him well.
I wondered where Malebranche was going. We were in a shabby
section of Nicias, a route I habitually took to make sure I had no
followers. I wondered what devious business he had in this
district As much as I wanted to see Maran, I knew what my duty
must be, remounted, and rode after the Kallian. Of course there'd
been several times we'd not been able to meetóthe price of a
clandestine affair. We'd even developed a device for such an
eventuality, and" would" meet in the same place the following
night unless advised otherwise.
His route twisted and turned, but eventually led to the river. We
were almost to the ocean docks, as bad a part of the city as
existed. I loosened my sword in its sheath, and my eyes darted
around the shadows.
The cobbles were loose, and I had to walk Lucan, afraid of
making a noise.
Malebranche turned his horse down a narrow alley, I counted
fifteen, then went after him.
I could see clearly down the narrow way all the way to the water.
But there was no sign whatsoever of the landgrave.
I rode all the way down and out onto the pier at the foot of the hill
and back, but the Kallian had completely vanished. I looked for
hidden passageways that would permit a horse to enter, but saw
none. There was nothing but solid brick and then the dark water.
I was a failure as a spy. I looked up at the rising moon, and my
disappointment fell away. I still had more than enough time to
meet Mar n.
I held Mar&n's ankles stretched apart as we drove together, her
body curled up, lifting from the bed, feeling the power of that
great warm avalanche growing inside me. She moaned, pulled at
me, and I released her legs and lowered myself onto her, her
breasts flattened against my chest as her heels pushed against
my buttocks, forcing me deeper and deeper into her.
My breath rasped as her body shuddered, shuddered again.
I opened my eyes and looked down into hers, staring at me,
staring beyond me, her wet mouth gasping for air, head thrown
back in sweet agony.
"Damastes, oh gods, Damastes," she groaned as her hips thrust,
"I... I..."
"Say it," I said. "Say it!"
"I... oh gods, I love you! I love you!"
"And... and I love you," I said, the truth as naked as our sweating
bodies as the stars exploded in our roaring cry of ecstasy.
Now there could be no turning back.
* "Interesting," Kutulu mused. "Something I did not know about
the good landgrave."
"So you keep track of him as well?"
"Of course. I keep track of everyone that I... or the Seer
Tenedos... thinks worthy of concern."
"But what," I said, trying a small jest, seeing if there was anything
in this precise little man resembling humanity, "do you do for
pleasure?"
"Why," Kutulu said, "that is my pleasure." He made a note on a
small yellow card. His shambles of an office was already filled
with a thousand of them.
"I'll let you know what your friend is about. Assuming, of course,
Tenedos approves."
At first the city looked as it always had at dawn, but then, as the
sun's rays struck it, I saw it was terribly different. Now each
building, each cobblestone, andómost horrible óeach tree sent
the sun's reflection flashing back, and I realized the city had
changed, had become a monstrous crystal, where nothing human
could live.
But then I saw movement in the streets, and there were people,
but they, too, had transformed, and the sun sent its rays bouncing
from them into my eyes.
Each of them, man, woman, child, carried something stretched
between his hands, and when I peered more closely I saw they
all carried yellow silk cords. As I saw them, they saw me.
At that moment, the lake in the center ofHyder Park boiled, and
up from it rose Thak!
He saw what his people were looking at, and raised his head and
"saw" me. The air shrilled as when a wet finger is rubbed around
the rim of a crystal wineglass, but far louder, and I saw the crystal
trees shake and the city itself tremble.
Thak took a giant step and another, coming toward me, and his
arms lifted.
I woke, shaking. I don't dream very often, and when I do, it's
almost never unpleasant.
I had to light a lamp, get out of bed, and go look out, across the
deserted barracks square for almost an hour, composing myself,
before sleep came back.
I knew this dream was more than a dream.
Thak was in Nicias.
And he remembered me.
"Your Kallian is not behaving as a diplomat should," Kutu-lu said.
"He has business with people, and in places, no proper envoy
should."
"Have him sent home," I suggested. "Or, better yet, seized and
tried as a traitor."
"Ah, but then he would be replaced by someone who we didn't
know, and I'd have to start all over again trying to identify Charin
Sher's new agent.
"The practice is for us to let him run his course and then we'll
take appropriate action at the appropriate time." Kutulu frowned.
"That's assuming, of course, my superiors will listen to me, and
the Rule of Ten will listen to them."
"So that is the way of police work," I mused. "I'd never be suited
for it"
"Of course not," Kutulu said. "Until you learn that no man does
what he does for the reasons he says he is doing it, and men find
there's frequently yet another, real motive behind even his most
closely held beliefs... you'd best remain a soldier."
I looked closely at the small man to see if he was attempting a
jest, but he was perfectly serious.
"At any rate, I've discovered where Landgrave Male-branche
goes when he visits the docks," Kutulu went on, "although I
haven't yet followed him all the way to his lair.
"I plan to do so this evening, since he's not that devious a
person, and holds to far too close a schedule. Tsk. He should
know better.
"Would you wish to accompany me?"
"I'd like nothing better," I said. "But won't I stand out?"
"Not by the time I finish with you," Kutulu said, and that was how I
learned a bit about disguise.
First was finding me the proper clothes. Kutulu sent for a
subordinate, and gave him orders. In a few minutes the man
returned with a rather soiled uniform from one of the lesser
infantry regiments.
"Since you are stamped a soldier, a soldier you'll remain. But not
an officer. No more than ... oh, a sergeant. The best mask is a
partial one, Captain. No one would ever think a captain would
appear as a warrant."
" 'Damastes' from my friends sounds better to my ears than
'Captain.'"
Kutulu looked uncomfortable. "Very well. Damastes. Next, we
need to alter the way you walk. Man remembers man in strange
ways, by his walk, speech, even smell, as much as appearance,
but he is never aware of that. So someone will look at you, the
sergeant, but somehow 'know' it isn't Damastes the Fair."
I grinned at that last "Do you know everything?"
Kutulu sighed. "No, and there'll never be time enough to learn it
Worse, I won't even be able to learn what I should be learning.
"We'll further fool your friends," he said, rummaging in a drawer.
"Here. Stick this on your nose with some plaster you'll find over
there, under that skull with the ax blade in it."
He'd given me a beautifully realistic duplicate of a boil. I stuck it
into place, looked in a hand glass he gave me, and shuddered.
Kutulu examined it and nodded approval. "Anyone who sees
your face will see Man with Terrible Boil, and be completely
unable to distinguish or remember the rest of your features.
"Now for the final touch." He picked up a spray bottle, and misted
its contents over me. I curled my nostrilsónow I smelled like a
soldier who'd not been bathed in a month.
"A dirty, smelly warrant from a line unit who's probably in trouble
with his superiors," Kutulu approved. "Exactly what we want. Just
the sort who'd be skulking around the docks looking for trouble.
And with your size, they'll never notice the small mouse who's
creeping beside you."
So I was going to be Kutulu's "apron." I grinned, then
remembered my dream of Thak.
"We may need more than physical disguise," I said. "I'll bet
there'll be magic about."
"Probably not a concern," Kutulu said. "Wizards are as prone to
let their eyes fool them as any common man. However ... I take
your point. I think we'll drop by the Seer Tene-dos and see if he
can't provide a bit of a foggy counterspell. There is no gain in
being overconfident.
"Now, for arms," he said, "although if we need to use much force
it's likely we're doomed." "I have my sword."
"Where we are going will not call for gentlemen's tools, but those
of a footpad or worse. Can you use a knife?" ' can."
"Here." He passed me a flat-handled blade in a sheath. "Strap
this to your forearm. You can shave with itóI had it sharpened
this morning. What else? Ah. It's chilly down by the water, so no
one will question these."
He handed me a pair of rather shabby gloves. I almost dropped
them because of their unexpected weight.
"There's a quarter-weight of sand sewn across the knuckles and
an eighth in the palm," he said briskly. "Slap someone and they
shall stay slapped."
He picked up a murderous-looking double-edged dagger whose
sheath hung down the back of his neck along his spine, and we
went looking for Elias Malebranche.
This time I was ready for Seer Tenedos when he said he wished
to accompany us. Kutulu looked horrified, not yet familiar with the
seer's admirable habit of leading from the front.
"You are not going," I said firmly. "You are not expendable,
especially when all we intend to do is peer about. Don't you think
your face is well known to most of Nicias by now? Don't you
imagine Malebranche would be delighted to meet you in some
dark alleyway? Don't you think Chardin Sher would reward him
well to have your pelt in front of his fire, sir?"
* "You pick amazingly picturesque imagery, Damastes," Tenedos
grumbled. "Very well. I see your point. But can you tell me one
reason why I shouldn't try to use sorcery to spy out where the
Kallian goes and what his business is?"
"Thak," was all I said, and Tenedos's shoulders tensed
involuntarily as he remembered how the demon had almost risen
out of the mercury pool to take both of us.
"Very well." Tenedos sighed. "As Captain Mellet once said, I'll
stay and tend the home fires. But as for some sort of spell to
protect you. Hmm. I'll give you that, and something for
emergencies."
He dusted us with a powder, said unfamiliar words, while his
hands moved in strange figures in the air.
"You don't want to show up reeking of magic, but this is a simple
spell that will encourage a sorcerous sentry to overlook you,
without ever quite realizing why. Now for the other device."
He went to one of his trunks and fished through it until he found a
rather ornately carved box made of several different-colored
woods. Inside I saw what appeared to be tiny, perfectly
sculptured animals, animals such as I'd never dreamed of.
"Here," he said, handing me one. It was like a tortoise, but with
the edges of its shell spiked, and it stood clear of the ground on
four stocky, clawed legs. Its tail was an armored mace, and its
head was fanged and malevolent looking.
"What is it, a model of some sort of demon?" Kutulu asked.
"It's not a model at all, but rather the creature itself, perhaps a
demon, I was able to fetch from another world and then shrink
and put into a suspended state. I think I'm the only sorcerer
who's come up with a series of spells that can do this. I call it,
and the others I made, animunculi. I'd never found a use for them
until now, although I suppose it would be possible to shrink a
guard dog, carry it as a charm on a woman's bracelet, and she
would be quite safe from any attack. So too with your small
creature. In its normal state it is about ten feet long, plus the tail,
and it has the temperament of a rabid bear.
"It will be activated by the slightest contact with water, so I'd
suggest you keep it in this." He handed me a bottle with a
stopper, and I gingerly inserted the tiny figurine in it. "Please try
to return it to me undamaged," he said wistfully. "A great deal of
probably wasted time went into creating it."
"If we have to, er, activate it," Kutulu wondered, "how do we
render it safe?"
"You don't. You can't. Run like demons are after you, which they
may well be. It will return to its own world after a few moments."
Tenedos thought about what he'd said and smiled a bit
sheepishly. "It might be well to provide you with a weapon against
your weapon, I just realized. Put the creature away safely first,
since I am giving you a spell of water."
He found herbs, and added them to a beaker of water. He took
an oddly carved wand that more resembled a twisted bit of
driftwood from a shelf, and stirred the mixture. He began
chanting in another tongue, then his words became
understandable:
"Water, guard Water, help Seek water Find safety. Varum take
heed These are now yours Guard them Help them Now they are
thine."
As he spoke, he sprinkled the mixture on us. Then, in a normal
tone, he said, "this should be a bit of help, I should think. Again,
it's a simple spell, and requires a bit of work on your part. If this
creature, animal, demon, or whatever it is, does come after you,
cross water. Any water will stop it. If the spell works as it should,
you should be momentarily safe."
"Momentarily," I said. "That's a fairly imprecise time."
tf "You're both in good health. As I said, run like you've never run
before, and you'll escape handily. I'm fairly sure of that."
Kutulu was looking rather skeptically at Tenedos. I suspected this
was the first time he'd ever realized his hero might not be able to
do all things perfectly. I took the warden by the arm.
"Come on," I said. "That's but his way of making sure the
hayseed can't complain about the philter he purchased if it
doesn't work. Thank you, Seer."
"Captain," Tenedos said, "has anyone ever suggested you're
impertinent?"
"Frequently, sir. And they're always right. We'll report back to you
as soon as possible."
Tenedos turned serious. "Please do that, regardless of the hour.
Be most careful. I do not know what you might encounter."
"This is another trick of the police," Kutulu explained. "If you are
following someone, someone who seems to have a regular
route, and you lose him or he becomes suspicious, go to the last
point you were able to track him, wait for his next appearance,
then continue following."
We were hidden behind barrels on the very edge of a wharf.
About twenty yards away was the end of the alley I'd followed
Malebranche down to find nothing.
The night was quiet, no sound except the splash of small waves
as the river flowed past behind and below us, and the occasional
hoot of a ship's horn.
How much, I mused, of a soldier's time is spent waiting in perfect
silence, from peacetime formations to wartime ambushes, yet no
one ever considers it a part of his lot.
I heard muffled hoofbeats, and crouched lower.
A dark figure rode swiftly out of the alley, and I thought for a
moment that it was about to ride straight off into the water. But the
rider dismounted, knelt, and suddenly, noiselessly, part of the
pier lifted, a hatch, and the rider, who must be Male-
branche, led his horse down an unseen ramp. As rapidly as it had
opened the trapdoor closed, and all was as before.
"Interesting," Kutulu said. "Shall we follow?"
It took a few minutes of close examination to find the round
metal-lined socket in the wooden pier. It was made to
accommodate some sort of tool, which we did not have, but I
pried carefully with the haft of my dagger and suddenly the portal
yawned open.
Kutulu took a tiny dark lantern from his cloak, lit it, and opened
one shutter enough to illuminate the ramp. I spotted the closing
lever not far along. He latched the shutter and we crept down the
incline, closing the hatch, and darkness closed around us.
I started onward, but Kutulu feh my movement, and held me still.
I obeyed. I thought my eyes were already night-familiar, and we
would be forced to move by feel, but in a few moments realized
they weren't. We weren't in total blackness, but there was enough
light from the end of the tunnel to see dimly.
Kutulu tugged me onward. I made sure my knife was loose in its
sheath and we went down the tunnel. About twenty yards along,
we found an alcove, and here the rider's horse was tethered. The
tunnel leveled, and turned, away from the river, back under the
hill.
I wondered how the conspirators had been able to dig such an
elaborate work without being seen, but when I brushed against
the tunnel's walls, which were heavily nitered brick, I realized
they'd merely happened on it. Perhaps this had been a smuggler
or pirate's lair in the distant past, abandoned or forgotten.
I heard a rat chitter, then we came around a curve, and saw light.
At the same time, we heard a voice booming, for all the world like
that of a priest in a temple.
The tunnel mouth was a low arch, and I saw the outline of a
figure, a man with a sword in one hand. But his back was turned
to us, and he was intent on whatever was going on in the
chamber inside.
I looked at Kutulu, and he gestured me back around the bend.
"So there's more than one entrance," he whispered. "That isn't
Malebranche's voice, so whoever's speaking must have come
in some other way. Either that, or people live down here. I think
we should see more." I was impressed with the little man. There
was not the slightest sign of fear in his voice.
"Now," he went on calmly, "I think a bit of your soldierly skills are
needed. Can you take out that guard without raising the alarm?"
I thought so, and also thought that Kutulu was talking too much. I
touched my finger to my lips, pointed to the groundó stay here.
Stay silent. I considered various possibilities, then crept around
the corner. I held close to the wall, and moved forward. I was
relatively unworried. Unless I stumbled over something, there
would be no way me sentry could be alert-edóhe would be
night-blind and unable to see me.
I kept my eyes on the cobbles in front of me, and never looked
directly at the man in front of me. I refuse to accept any senses
beyond the normal, except those seers might develop, but it's a
fact that if you stare at the back of someone's head long and
hard enough, he will turn.
I'd thought of taking him down with my knife, but in spite of my
assurances to Kutulu I was not really an artist with the small
blade. The leaded gloves were a better solution. A few feet from
the guard I went into a crouch, then went forward, not fast, but
very smoothly, rising to my full height, and smashing the back of
my fisted hand against his neck. His body contorted, I grabbed
his sword before it could fall and clatter on the cobbles, and I
eased him to the ground. I don't know if he was dead, but if he
was not he'd be out for a very long time and very sick if he came
to.
I went back to Kutulu, and we slipped to the mouth of the tunnel.
The chamber inside was rectangular, fairly large, with an arching
brick roof. I saw two other entrances, both with large wooden
doors. It did, indeed, resemble a temple, since there were
benches from front to back and a low dais in the front.
The man speaking did have the rolling, sonorous speech of a
priest, but he certainly didn't look imposing. Rather, he looked
like the jolly fat grover in the market, complete with a small fringe
of a beard.
And his words were anything but religious:
"... but it isn't the gold which we must be thinking of at this most
important time, Brother."
There were about sixty men and women sitting on the benches,
all cleanly dressed and sober-appearing, paying no attention to
anything but the speaker. Among them I saw the Marchioness
Fenelon and some other noblemen and -women I'd seen around
Nicias. I spotted Countóor rather former CountóKomroff, whom
I'd seen holding forth the evening I first met Mardn. But nobles
were in the minorityómost of the people in the audience were
poor or working class in their desperately scrubbed best outfits.
I saw Kutulu's head swiveling from man to woman to man,
creating new entries for his file.
The man whom the priest, for so I kept thinking him to be, had
been addressing frowned, not satisfied.
"I know, Brother. But when a loyal Sister tells me she must have
food for her babies, it's hard to tell her not to reap the spoils
she's entitled, the spoils Thak promised us."
A man sitting with his back to me rose, and I recognized
Malebranche.
"Sir... since I'm not a member of your order, I cannot call you
Brother... let me repeat what I've said before. My master has
more than enough gold to provide for all."
Son of a bitch! Quite suddenly it was obvious why Elias
Malebranche had been in Sayana. It wasn't merely to stir up
trouble and attempt to make an alliance with Achim Baber
Fergana, but also to work with the Tovieti. Now, from what
Malebranche was saying, the Kallian was bankrolling them as
well. It was apparent we'd come on the Inner council, or whatever
they called it, of the stranglers.
Kutulu's eyes widened briefly, probably as much surprise as the
lawman could show.
The fat "priest" nodded.
"Thank you, sir. Brother, tell that woman in your band what our
friend said, and tell her also to have faith in our coming victory.
We cannot name who our friend's master is, although I'm sure
many of you know. Also tell your woman why we must not linger
over our kills.
"We have the wardens in a frenzy, the commoners quaking,
nobility fleeing their estates for safe havens that don't exist, and
even the Rule of Ten must be beginning to tremble. Think what it
must be, when you do not know your enemy, nor where die silken
cord may come from at any time, day or night, but know it is
coming, as inexorably as the Wheel turns.
"Even the old gray gods must be shuddering at the new day we
are about to bring.
"The minute one of us is caught, a bit of the mystery, the fear, the
darkness that is the blanket we love, vanishes.
"Thak is content; Thak has his blood and a chance to play with
the souls of those we kill before they return to the Wheel. Our
day will be here very soon."
There was a murmur of pleasure. A woman stood. "Brother,
p'rhaps everything you're sayin' is true. But why're we listenin' to
this man, this nobleman, one of the bastards we've given our
lives to send into th' Darkness? He ain't joinin' us, he's made that
clear. But we're willin' to take his gold. What's his stake? What's
his master's stake?
"An' Brother, I don't need any fine words. I want answers." "You'll
find out when the time comes," Malebranche snarled. "Until then,
you've no right to ask my business."
"Stop!" The fat man snapped, and I heard raw power in his tone.
"Never address any of us in such a tone again, or be prepared to
face our wrath. She has all the right to speak she wishes, sir. Let
me remind you that the Sister is right. We are dedicated to
bringing you, and all you now represent, down.
"Your master is helping us assist him in bringing down the Rule
of Ten. Very well, very good. We are not fools, so we know he
intends to return to the old days and old ways and sit the throne
as king of all Numantia.
* "That may happen, that may not happen. Thak has allowed us to
work together thus far. But do not ever think we are your servants.
If your master reneges on his promises to create a society of
equals, to distribute the lands, the gold, and the women of the
rich pigs of Dara among us... our war can always continue, sir.
"Our war can continue until the Wheel is choked with the corpses
of those who do not follow Thak, and yours may well be one of
them! Be warned, sir, and be aware, as should your master, that
our alliance is but of the moment, and can be shattered with a
single word or a single dream sent by Thak, who even now sits
just Beyond, watching all we say and do."
We'd heard enough. We stole back into darkness. I pulled at the
lever and the hatch rose, and we went out into the clean night
Neither Kutulu nor I said a word*óthis vast conspiracy, stretching
from Kallio to the Border States to Nicias itself, was too
enormous, and shocked us both to our cores. Seer Tenedos
must learn what was going on and then plans could be made.
We went up the alleyway at a fast walk, still worried that there
might be some outside sentries. I could not believe the
arrogance of the Tovieti in holding a meeting with no more than
one guard, but then realized they truly did believe they owned the
night, and were comfortable in its blanket We were halfway up
the alley when the ground shook and I heard a scraping, grating
roaróa tremblor! But when I turned and looked back the river
was undisturbed, nor did any building sway.
The street itself was turning, cobbles being churned away, a
ridge snaking toward us as if some enormous, not-yet-visible
mole were tunneling toward us, moving faster than a man could
run, or a horse could trot!
We ran for our lives, out of the alley and onto the street.
But that was no sanctuary. The unseen digger raced on us, and
then the stones of the street rained away and a dark, slime-
gleaming shape reared out of the ground.
d not need sentries Thak had his own minions posted.
NINETEEN The Collapse The demon struck at Kutulu, and he
tried to duck away, I but was too slow, and a tentacle had him by
the ankle. Yet he did not scream, or panic, but somehow pulled
his knife, slashed at the tentacle, and fell free.
Again came that scraping roar, and the monster's mouth was
reaching for me. I hurled my own knife, a truly worthless defense,
and it pinwheeled end for end, bouncing harmlessly off the
creature's hide. The tentacles swept out, and I rolled underneath
mem, kept moving while my fingers found that tiny bottle. I
yanked the stopper free with my teeth, spat inside, then tossed
the bottle at the demon.
There was a flash of light mat nearly bunded me, than a howl of
rage as Tenedos's captive exploded to its full size.
Demon-roar, monster-growl, and I dimly heard shouts from the
houses around us as people awoke. The demon's head snaked
out, and took on the creature, then Thak's guardian bellowed pain
as its jaws closed on spikes and the beast's tail swung and its
mace smashed into the monster's slimy sides. It rolled, still in the
demon's jaws, bent its head, and, snarling like a pack of lions
over a kill, ripped and tore at the demon with its own fangs. The
two nightmares, each bund in its own rage, rolled and ripped at
each other, mere humans forgotten for the moment K "The
water!" I shouted, and Kutulu stumbled to his feet and we went
back down that alley, running across the pier as the trapdoor
yawned open. I did not look to see who was coming out, but flat-
dove straight out into darkness. I hit the water cleanly, surfaced,
and began swimming away.
I heard a shout for help. Kutulu! "I... I can't swim!" I saw
floundering arms above the dark water, and swam for them as
they went under, then had him. Kutulu clutched at me, and I
banged the heel of my hand into his forehead to stun him, pulled
away, dove under, and came up behind him.
I had his chin in my arm, his groping, panicked arms flailing
without effect, and was swimming hard, a strong side-stroke,
once more.
I let the current carry us down toward the waiting sea. Kutulu went
limp, and I wondered if he was drowning.
I saw a dark bulk, swam toward it, and reached a drifting log,
uprooted somewhere far south in the uplands and now on the
final stages of its journey to the sea. I pulled Kutulu across it, and
then lifted myself aboard our rescuing raft.
The warden started coughing, and I thumped his back. He
vomited water twice, then gasped for air. His breathing became
normal after a while.
"Thank you," he managed. "Now you are my friend, Damastes."
"The hells with it," I said. "You would have done the same for me
if you were a swimmer."
He thought, seriously. "Yes," he said. "Yes, you're right. I would
have." He looked about him. "Now what shall we do?"
"Since I've no plans to go avoyaging on this somewhat uncertain
craft, we'll be swimming again, as soon as I see something to
swim for."
A few seconds later I saw a long pier jutting toward us. The
current swept us close, and when we were a few yards away I
took Kutulu in the rescuer's hold, and we abandoned ship. There
was a rickety ladder that extended down into the water, and we
made our way up it.
We were in the worst part of Nicias, a part of the city where
the wardens patrolled in squads, so, once Kutulu had bis
bearings, we went directly to the nearest warden's post and he
ordered a team to escort us out of the area. They looked
curiously at our sodden clothes, and wanted to ask questions, but
Kutulu told them nothing. Thank several gods my boil had come
unstuck during the swim and the spray-on smell had been
washed away, so I wasn't as disreputable as before.
As to what happened to Thak's demon, and Tenedos's ani-
munculi, I have no idea and less curiosity, other than that I heard
no reports of monsters abroad the next day. I hope they dragged
each other down into some inescapable dark hell.
We reached Tenedos's apartments only to find them deserted,
even though it was only a few hours before dawn.
"Could he have gone to see Rasenna?" I wondered, men
realized my question was foolishóhe'd promised to wait, and he
was a man of his word. We decided to do the same.
While we waited, we used Tenedos's bath to wash and, in my
case, change, since I'd been keeping a couple of sets of
somewhat forbidden civilian clothes at his place. Kutulu toweled
himself off and started to pull on his wet clothes again.
"If the seer were here," I said, "it'd be a simple matter for him to
cast some sort of clothes-line spell and they'd be dry as toast." I
went to one of Tenedos's closets, and hunted through it until I
found a dark set of pants and overshirt I thought suited the
warden. "Put these on," I said and tossed them to Kutulu.
"Butó" Kutulu looked appalled. The warden had the worst case
of hero worship I'd ever seen. It would be some incredible
breach of his private ethics to dream of touching, let alone
wearing without permission, something of his idol's. But I did not
josh him about the matter.
"Don't be absurd," I said. "He'd tell you the same thing if he were
here. You'll probably have to find a belt and punch a new hole in
it. Our esteemed sorcerer is a bit more fond of the dining table
than you."
* Reluctantly, Kutulu obeyed. In the kitchen I found canisters with
tea leaves, and made hot drinks for us, although I wondered if I'd
gotten the wrong container and created a concoction to change
us into frogs or something.
Two hours before dawn, an angry and worried Tenedos returned.
"My apologies," he said. "But I was summoned not an hour after
you left by the Rule of Ten. Or, perhaps, I should now call them
the Rule of Nine. Farel and his mistress were found dead late
yesterday afternoon. Strangled by the Tovieti."
"Shit!" I said. I couldn't remember when one of the Rule of Ten
had died by anything other than sickness, accident, or old age, let
alone murder.
"Naturally, the Rule of Ten wanted to hear, immediately,
everything that I knew about the stranglers, as if they'd paid no
attention when we testified last year. Incidentally, the Nician
Council sat in on the meeting, and provided leadership fully as
thrilling and competent.
"Now, did you two uncover anything as shattering?"
"We did," I said. "I'll let Kutulu tell it, since he's experienced at
precise reporting than I am."
Kutulu told Tenedos exactly what had occurred, adding nothing,
leaving nothing out. He made no judgments, but provided a
perfect image of events. He even told Tenedos, unemotionally,
as if it had happened to someone else, how he'd panicked in the
water. He was about to continue when Tenedos held up his hand.
"Enough, my friend. Does your tale include anything more of
either the monsters or the Tovieti?"
"No, sir."
Tenedos nodded, and Kutulu obediently said no more. He got up
and paced back and forth for a while.
"I will return to the Rule of Ten, and inform them of what
happened," he said. "But I do not think it will make a difference."
"What?" I was incredulous.
"Let me repeat what they said after I finished telling them more
what we know of the Tovieti. They admitted the Tovieti are
probably a threat. But we have a very efficient force of wardens,
who can deal with the situation. Perhaps we should consider
giving them some emergency powers."
It was Kutulu's turn for surprise.
"May I interrupt, Seer? How can they think that? We've yet to take
one single Tovieti to prison. But what powers are they speaking
of?"
"Setting up teams of crack officers to go after the menace, which
of course they believe is quartered in the slums where our
foreign workers live. No true Nician would listen to such garbage,
or so Farel's ex-hamess-mate Rask said. A magistrate to
accompany the teams, so the proper orders can be issued on
the spot for searching any house or business immediately.
"The Tovieti are to be added to the list of forbidden
organizations.
"Scopas suggested that mere membership in the organization
should be cause for the death penalty. But since they don't
appear to have convenient tattoos, uniforms, nor membership
tokens, how this would be proven went unmentioned. At any rate,
the measure went undiscussed and therefore was forgotten. No
doubt too radical.
"Those were the only specifics. But, my good Kutulu, you can
rest assured the Rule of Ten hold you wardens in the highest
esteem."
Kutulu's lips worked.
"You may say anything you wish here," Tenedos said. "Even if it
borders on the treasonous."
"This is nothing! They can't just sit there and wait for the threat to
vanish! Chardin Sher will be marching into Nicias and they'll still
be talking. Or else all of us will be lying dead with silk nooses
cutting into our gullets! Those men," the little warden spat, "are
fools! Fools and worse!"
"Such is what I've been saying for some years now," Tenedos
said.
"What else?' I wanted to know. "What about the army? We heard
no details about the Tovieti's future plans, but I assume
they'll be escalating their murder campaign. Are we, too, going
to just sit with our thumbs in our bums?"
"The army is to be ordered to full alertness, although the Rule of
Ten did not think it necessary to declare martial law.
"All mention of this matter is to be kept from the public, so there'll
be nothing in the broadsheets. Instead, rumor will be permitted to
run riot.
"Some other, smaller things, might amuse you. "I was appointed
to a special position, privy adviser to the Rule on the Present
Emergency. I was ordered to use all of the magical powers I
have to determine whether there is sorcery behind this
organization."
"What the hells do they think Thak is? A wisp of sewer gas?"
"I'm not sure they believe Thak even exists." "What was your
response, sir?" Kutulu said. I could see how angry he was, and
how hard he was trying to hold it back. "Like you, I lost my
temper. I'm afraid I shouted at this point that we don't need
sorcery, we need order.
"Again, I was told that the wardens could handle the matter.
"After all, Nicians will instinctively obey the law. There is no cause
for panic." Tenedos shook his head sorrowfully. "Now you see
why I'm not at all convinced reporting the small matter of a
country-wide conspiracy bankrolled by one of their own subrulers
would matter a beggar's fart?" "So what do we do?" I asked.
Tenedos started to say something flippant, then turned serious.
"First, we must guard ourselves carefully, and ensure we aren't
the next victims of the Tovieti. If Thak knows of us, and of course
he does, then he'll communicate that knowledge to the Tovieti
leaders.
"I'd assume that means we'll be at the top of their murder list.
"Second, try to ensure that anyone either of you holds close finds
a place of safety. I'm not sure what that might be, but suggest
somewhere beyond the city, perhaps even outside Dara."
f,
"I've no such person," Kutulu said, and there wasn't even a touch
of regret in his voice.
I was wondering how I'd tell Maran, and how she would convince
her husband.
"The final thing I'd suggest is keep a war bag packed and your
weapons handy. Be ready for anything. Anything at all."
Tenedos got up and went to the sideboard and unstoppered a
brandy decanter. Then he looked out the window at the lightening
sky.
"No. I'm afraid that's another weakness to be set aside until
better times," and he restoppered the container.
"That's all, gentlemen." We got up to go.
"Thank you," Tenedos said. "You've not only proven yourselves
worthy servants of mine, but Numantians of the most noble sort."
His words meant more than a medal.
Bugles were sounding the troops awake as I rode into the
cantonment. I shouted down a lance, threw Lucan's reins to him,
and told him to take my horse to the stables and feed and water
him.
I ran for my quarters, and hastily changed into uniform in time to
be at the head of my troop for the reveille formation.
After roll was taken, the day's orders given out by Captain
Lardier, and Domina Lehar had taken the salute and dismissed
us for breakfast, the adjutant called my name. I marched up, and
saluted him. He handed me a small envelope.
"This was delivered late last night to the officer of the watch, with
a request it be given to you personally. Since you weren't to be
found in the cantonment, he gave it to me when I relieved him
this morning."
I saluted him once more and walked off.
Inside the envelope was a second one, this one with my name on
it. The handwriting was Maran's. Inside that, a brief note:
* My dearest I wish I could tell you this in person, for it might give
me a chance to hold you and to feel you in me. But my husband
came to me only this noon, and told me that due to the present
unsettlements, he feels it best if we leave Nicias until the situation
clears.
We will be sailing aboard his yacht this morning, before dawn. He
told me we 'II be cruising in the Outer Islands and off the Seer's
home island of Palmeras for at least a month, most likely longer.
I am so sorry, and wish that you could take me in your arms and
make me stop crying. But I shall be brave, and think of you every
minute of every hour.
O My Damastes, you cannot know how much I love you and want
to be with you, even though the times am dangerous. Be good,
be well, and dream of me as I shall dream of you.
I love you Maran Maran would not have been pleased; the first
feeling that came was overwhelming relief. She was out of the
line of fire. Yes, I'd dream of her, and yes I'd think of her, when
duty did not demand full attention. But I'd have few spare minutes
in the near future.
I changed into fatigue uniform, went to the stables, and was
currying Lucan when the gong clanged alarm across the parade
ground. Like everyone else, I dropped what I was doing, as the
emergency alert sent me, and everyone else in the Helms,
scurrying for our battle gear.
The standby troop should have been formed up and ready to ride
out in ten minutes, the rest of the regiment in an hour.
I was ready in that time, as was Lance Karjan, but we were two of
a handful.
I heard shouts, curses, and saw confusion as men went here,
there, and everywhere looking for their fighting gear, which
should have been instantly at hand but instead was "turned in
to Supply for fixing," "loaned to a Mend a mine, I think," "I dunno,
sir," "Guess it don't fit right," "th" straps broke an' th' saddler
never give it back t' me," "I was never issued that item, sir." Battle
garb had been ignored for polished leather and shiny brass.
It was two and a half hours before the Golden Helms of Nicias
were in formation.
Perhaps if we'd ridden out when we should have the catastrophe
wouldn't have happened. But I doubt it.
There'd been a brawl in Chicherin, one of the city's poorer
districts, that began when three shops on a single street
simultaneously doubled their price for flour. As it turned out, the
three shop owners had formed a syndicate to prevent
competition. There'd been an argument with some outraged
customers that became pushing and shoving, and then blows
were exchanged.
Someone pulled a knife and there was a body in the street.
Moments later, rocks pelted one of the shop owners and he, too,
went down. His shop was looted, and the mob had the scent.
They milled about, then decided to punish the other two shops as
well. In one the owner fought back with a spear and was killed,
but both stores were ripped apart.
The lunacy spread to other streets and other stores that hadn't
the slightest involvement, until half the district was a raging
madhouse.
At that point someone in authority panicked and sent for the
army.
This was not the proper response. Squads of wardens should
have moved into the district, isolated the ringleaders, and
arrested them. If that couldn't have been done, solid walls of law
officers should have gone down the streets and by a combination
of fear and brute force the mob would have been quelled in this
early stage.
Instead the wardens in the area were dispatched in ones and
twos. A few of them were attacked, others fled, and the mob had
control.
The army should have been used only to seal Chicherin off, and
wardens used to calm the district. Armed soldiers in the streets
signify to everyone, passersby as well as madmen, that order
has broken down and the state itself feels threatened.
But someone overreacted at some headquarters. Whether this
was deliberate or not, I do not know. Later it was claimed the
Tovieti were responsible for the events, which I doubt, but if
there were any of the stranglers involved I would believe it to be
that unknown official.
Also, the Golden Helms should not have been the unit called out,
for several reasons. Its incompetence at soldiering can be
ignored, since no one was aware of that until far too late. But
cavalry should not be sent into crowded streets against massed
civilians. Not only can panic erupt, and cause more deaths than
the worst riot, but it's entirely too easy to maim a horse or pull a
rider out of his saddle. Foot soldiers should have been used
instead, or else added as reinforcement to our horsemen, but
that did not happen.
Instead, C Troop, under the command of Captain Abercorn, was
sent in. They weren't even given proper weapons, but rode in
with lances held high and their sabers sheathed. The point
column was led by Legate Nexo.
They rode into a square filled with shouting Nicians. About half
the civilians were drunk on wine, the other on the rage they not
incorrectly felt about the mismanagement of politicians. The mob
slowly formed an idea: They wanted to meet with someone from
the Nician Council, to meet immediately, and air their grievances.
They were hungry, they were destitute, their children were in
rags, and it was time the city helped them. All of their plaints were
certainly true.
The square had only three entrances. One of them had been
barricaded by the mob against the wardens, the second was very
narrow, and Legate Nexo's column blocked the last.
The highest-ranking survivor, a very junior lance-major, said
Captain Abercorn had been working his way to the head of the
column when Legate Nexo took it upon himself to pro-
claim that the gathering was illegal, forbidden by the Rule of Ten,
and the people in the square were ordered to disperse
immediately or face the wrath of the Golden Helms. Why Captain
Abercorn wasn't at the front of his troop, and why the legate,
even though he was the next-highest-ranking officer, chose to
usurp authority, is unknown. I believe that Nexo, an arrogant and
foolish man from a very wealthy family, was appalled that working
swineópeasantsówould dare demand anything from their
superiors, and should have fallen on their knees or at least stood
respectfully out of the way when the famous Golden Helms
appeared.
Suddenly the front ranks of the mob wanted to get out of the way
of the solid line of cavalry, and a shouting struggle began. But
there were other, braver men in the throng, and rocks and filth
pelted the soldiery.
That was enough for Legate Nexo. He ordered lances lowered
and the Helms to attack at the walk.
That was almost the last coherent observation the lance-major
was able to make. No sooner had Nexo cried out his orders than
a rock, which the lance-major thought sling-launched, caught him
below the rim of our famous helmet, crushing his face and
probably killing him instantly.
The mob screamed triumph. Well-trained troops would have paid
no mind to the loss of their officer, but would have automatically
obeyed his last command. But the Helms were anything but well
trained, and hesitated.
In that fatal moment the Helms were struck hard. Missiles rained,
some sling-fired, some thrown hard and accurately. People
appeared on the roofs and in the upper stories of the tenements,
carrying cobblestones, bricks, anything heavy, and a rain of death
came down, sending soldiers spinning from their mounts, their
horses rearing crazily, lashing out in their own pain and rage.
Instead of the mob breaking, the Helms broke, turned their
horses, and kicked them into a gallop, back the way they'd come,
straight into the other three columns, and as the chaos spread
the mob charged.
* Sometime during this, Captain Abercorn was pulled from his
horse and beaten nearly to death. Two years later, he was
discharged from hospital a broken cripple, with no memory of
anything that happened that day.
There were men in mat rabble who knew what they were
doingóor possibly had been trained by the Tovieti. Men with
knives darted close to horses, cutting hamstrings, slicing into
bellies, slashing at animals' throats, and finishing their riders
when they came off.
The lance-major who told the story had been knocked from his
horse by a well-thrown bottle that shattered and took out an eye.
He'd had sense enough to roll into an open doorway and play
dead in his gore until the melee was over.
C Troop would almost certainly have been wiped out to the last
man if someone hadn't "seen" army reinforcements coming from
behind, the single other open street in the square, and screamed
a warning. Now it was the mob's turn to panic, and in an instant it
was no more than hundreds of fear-crazed commoners, each
looking to save his own skin. The irony is there were no
reinforcementsówhoever'd called for the Helms hadn't thought
that more than a single column was needed, and our own
commanders didn't think of providing backup. By the time word
of the disaster came to our cantonment, it was all over, and there
was nothing for me, and the others, to do but rage impotently.
Of the men who rode out of the Golden Helms' barracks that
morning, thirty-two returned. Forty-six were dead or dying, and
forty-one others were wounded. And this was just the beginning.
The regiment exploded in blind wrath, wanting to ride into
Chicherin and kill everyone in sight. Then came fear, as the men
thought an entire city had turned against its favorite gilded toy, the
Golden Helms. That fear was almost paralytic. We had five men
go absent, which was a rarity. Several legates began talking
about transferring to other, more distant posts, or perhaps
applying for long leave with their families.
Domina Lehar and too many of the other officers seemed
helpless, not sure what should be done.
I requested an audience with the domina, even before the
funerals of the men of C Troop, and as politely as I could, which
was not very, reminded him that I'd seen real fighting on the
Frontiers, as had Lance Karjan and a sprinkling of others. I told
him I had personal knowledge that this was not an isolated
incident, but he could expect more and most nicely bloodier
things to happen.
He looked haplessly about his office, found no suggestions in
the statues, plaques, and awards various dignitaries had sent the
Golden Helms for dazzling them on parade, and said perhaps I
was right.
I should immediately begin drawing up a training program for the
Helms. He'd approve it instantly, and we could begin schooling
the men in the practical aspects of soldiery.
"Sir," I said. "Can't we just start teaching? Does everything have
to be on paper before it's done?" I might as well have suggested
we all grow wings and become cavalry of the sky. I saluted, and
was about to leave.
"Please hurry," the domina said. "We'll need your expertise soon,
I know. And one other thing. That lance you named... Kirgle or
Kurtile?"
"Karjan, sir."
"Since he's seen fighting, I want him promoted. Make him a
lance-major. No. I want him listened to. Troop guide."
That was Domina Lehar's idea of desperate action.
I told Karjan about his sudden rise in fortune, and he refused to
believe me. I showed him the written order from Domina Lehar,
and his face clouded in anger.
"I turned down th' rank slashes when y' offered 'em back in
Sayana, sir, an' there's naught that's happened t'change my
mind."
"You don't have a choice this time, Karjan. The domina spoke,
and by the lance of Isa you'll sew the damned slashes on!"
'Til not!"
* I was losing my temper; one of the few competent men I knew
was refusing promotion, while all these morons about me were
clamoring for greater and greater rank, even though the idea of
actual responsibility horrified them.
"You shall!"
Karjan glowered at me and I back. He was the first to look away.
"Ver' well. I'll wear 'em, sir. But I give you m'word I'll go on a
bender th' first day we're off an' wreak enough havoc t' lose 'em
for good an' all."
"The hells you will!" I bellowed, and a vase on the table beside
me tumbled and shattered. Karjan looked stubborn.
"Let me put it like this. You will sew on the badges of rank,
showing proper respect for the army you joined. You will do your
duty as a senior warrant until I tell you otherwise. You will not go
on any drunk and you will certainly not tear up any bars, is that
clear?
"You won't for one reason. Because if you do not obey my
orders, obey them just as I've told you, I will take you out behind
these barracks and only one of us will walk back. I promise you
two other things: The one who stays on the ground shall not be
me, and you shall certainly need a good time in the hospital
before you rejoin the troop. And the minute you're healed we'll go
back out and I'll hammer your sorry fool ass again!"
Karjan stared at me, and a look of grudging admiration spread.
"I b'lieve you would do just that. An' I b'lieve you might win."
"Sir."
"Sir."
"Now go get your gods-damned sewing kit out and stop
bothering me, Troop Guide. I have a stupid damned training
schedule to write!"
But I got no work done on it mat day.
The orderly messenger knocked on my office door an hour later.
I bade him enter, and he told me, eyes wide in awe, that f,
with Domina Lehar's compliments, I was to report to the Palace
of War in full uniform, two hours hence.
I thought of asking why, but of course the boy, just a fresh recruit,
would not have known. I, too, was shocked. The Palace of War
was the headquarters for the entire Numantian Army.
"Thank the domina, and I of course shall obey," I said formally.
The messenger started to leave.
"Wait. Did the domina tell you who I was to report to?" "Oh.
Yessir. Sorry, sir. I was... too excited, sir." "Dammit, lad, the only
thing that'll keep you alive in war is repeating your orders just as
they're given. Now, tell me die rest of what the domina said."
The boy gulped and told me I was to report directly to General of
the Armies Urso Protogenes.
Then it was my turn to goggle. What could he want from a lowly
captain?
I couldn't even imagine, but I had less than two hours. I shouted
for Troop Guide Karjan to get his ass back in here and help me.
I was at a complete loss.
Not quite two hours later, in dress uniform with an armband of
black, which all men of the Golden Helms were wearing after
Chicherin, I was ushered into the antechamber of General
Protogenes's office.
Waiting for me was Seer Tenedos, which provided a likely
explanation as to why I had been summoned. I'd expected the
room to be filled with waiting officers, but Tenedos and I were
the only occupants, other than an aide who greeted us, asked if
we wished anything to drink, then returned to his work.
Tenedos's dress surprised me. I would have expected him to
wear elaborate robes such as most seers put on for formal
occasions. Instead, he wore breeches and a tunic of light gray,
and knee-boots, and a cloak in darker gray with a red silk lining
lay on a chair beside him.
"I asked for you to assist me," Tenedos said, "because I cer-
* tainly didn't wish to offend someone as important as the
general, and thought someone more familiar with military matters
such as yourself would keep me from making any mistakes." He
spoke in a quiet tone, but one that could be overheard by the
aide, and I knew he was lying. Tenedos wanted me there for
some other reason, and I set my mind to trying to puzzle it out
But I didn't have the time, because precisely at the time ordered
the aide rose and conducted us into General Protogenes's
office.
It was exactly what you would expect a long-serving soldier,
commander of the armies, a man of great honor, to have. The
room was large, with bookcases full of military books. There
were maps, swords, countless mementos of battle hanging on
the walls. General Protogenes's desk was to one side, and it was
small and bare, little more than an officer's field table, clearly
showing that this room was occupied by a man of action.
The chamber was well illuminated by a glass dome in the ceiling,
and directly under it was a long conference table. Sitting at its
head were two generals: Protogenes and Rechin Turbery. This
was to be a very important meeting indeed. Turbery held the title
of commander of the Nician Army District, which meant he was
the second most important man in our army.
Tenedos bowed respectfully, and I saluted and the generals got
to their feet.
"Seer Tenedos," General Protogenes's voice rumbled, "I am
delighted you could find the time." He gazed at me. "And this is
the captain your note said we'd derive great benefits from
meeting, eh?"
"I am pleased to meet the both of you," General Turbery said
simply, and reseated himself, his eyes coldly measuring us.
General Protogenes was not only the most senior officer in army,
but he may have been the most beloved. He returned that love
wholeheartedly, always finding time for the complaints of
the lowliest soldier. In that love and in his deep affection for
Nicias would be his doom. He was a big man, only an inch
shorter than I am, but far heavier. His face was cheerily
reddened, showing that he appreciated good living and saw no
reason others shouldn't do the same.
He was an example to all soldiers, in that he'd come from
Wakhijr, a poor desert state, a herder's son with no friends and
less money. He'd risen steadily through the ranks and then been
given a field commission, quite a rarity at the time. Pro-togenes
was not only a good, brave soldier, but also a lucky one. He was
wounded many times, never badly, but that was not what made
him lucky. Most heroes go unnoticed, with no one of proper rank
to witness their bravery. Not so with Proto-genes. Without his
ever seeking favor, glory and recognition always came.
He had served in every state of Numantia, in all of its skirmishes
and little wars, from the Border States to fighting pirates in the
Outer Islands to quelling savages in the mountainous jungles of
the East.
His rise to the top had been accelerated when he met Rechin
Turbery, after he'd taken over a regiment in the Border States.
Protogenes would have been the first to admit he was no cunning
tacticianóonce an enemy was found, he'd have the bugles
sound the charge and it was be up and at them with a cheer and
the sword, lads.
Turbery was more cunning, and looked it, never attacking a
position frontally, not taking heavy casualties when he could
outflank or outmaneuver the enemy and bring his troops home
safely. He was in his late forties, some twenty years younger than
Protogenes. He was slender, balding, sharp-faced, and his gaze
seemed to expose your every secret.
The two had made a perfect team, and became fast friends.
When Protogenes was promoted to the army's staff, Turbery
was promoted to domina and given a regiment of his own on the
border between KaUio and Dara. He achieved fame not only for
keeping the peace between our two states, but also for leading
daring raids against the hill bandits. It was well known
and admired by officers that he seemed always to know, and
have the correct response, when these "bandits" were mere
ruffians, and when they were disguised members of the Kallian
Army, who delighted in probing the army they were supposedly
a part of to find its weaknesses.
When Protogenes was chosen to head the army, it was quite
natural that he'd call for Turbery to join him.
"I asked you here," Protogenes said, "because of this damnable
trouble. I'm afraid I wasn't able to attend the Rule of Ten's
hearings on these Tovieti. My sincere apologies.
"Would it be possible for you to briefly summarize what you told
them? And perhaps the captain could add anything you might
have overlooked?"
"I would be delighted," Tenedos said, and began talking. After a
few moments, I noted that the two generals didn't seem to be
paying close attention to what Tenedos was saying. It was as if
they already knew what he was telling them. If so, why were we
here? I determined to watch my words very closely.
To the broadsheets Tenedos might have glorified our exploits,
but now he briefly and exactly summarized the physical facts of
what had happened in Sayana and, the week before, along the
docks of Nicias. I noticed he did not mention Kutulu by name, but
merely referred to him as a responsible officer of the wardens.
He finished, and asked if I had anything to add. I said I did not,
that he'd done a complete job, and clamped my mouth shut,
waiting for the real reason we were here.
It came in seconds, from General Turbery.
"What we are about to discuss must be held under the rose. If
that condition is not acceptable, Seer, Captain, then our business
is finished. Frankly, the only reason we considered this meeting
is because of how highly certain well-thought-of senior officers,
who've been impressed by the job you're doing at the lycee,
speak of your tact, integrity, and perception."
I looked at Tenedos for guidance. He nodded, and I sat
back. "I think I can speak for Captain a Cimabue as well as
myself," he said. "You have our vows, on any god you wish, that
what is said here will not be repeated until you give us leave."
The two generals exchanged glances, as if reluctant to begin.
Turbery stood after a moment, and began pacing back and forth.
"Our leaders, the Rule of Ten," he began, "seem to feel that this
... trouble, will be swiftly ended, and require no more action than
what they've already ordered.
"I hope they are right, as does General Protogenes." "Of
course," the older man growled. "Damned if anyone wants to
think his masters aren't on top of it"
"But I'm of the opinion they might have all their arrows in a single
quiver," Turbery went on. "You've given us the facts, sir. Now I
ask for your opinion, and your honest assessment of the threat."
Tenedos took a deep breath.
"Very well, and I know I am going to shock you. But as you said,
this meeting is under the rose, and I would wish you to respect
that condition as well.
"Briefly, the Tovieti are but a symptom of what's going on. Our
country is near collapse, our people floundering around without
guidance, without direction. The Rule of Ten are not ruling wisely
nor well, and as they stumble about they are sucking all the other
institutions of Numantia into the morass with them."
"Harsh words, sir."
"Harsh words, yes. But these are harsh days, and the time is well
past for dancing hearts and flowers around a nasty subject,"
Tenedos retorted.
"Go on," Turbery said, listening intently. General Protogenes
looked most uncomfortable.
"Add to this the Tovieti, who are being financed by Chardin Sher.
I don't know what other mischiefs he's been causing, but I
assume that his agents are causing as much trouble as possible
throughout Numantia."
* "Like father, like son," the old man rumbled. "The old Sher was
a pain in the ass as well."
"But Chardin is worse," Turbery said. "Because he's got brains,
something his father fortunatelyófor Numantia and for
peaceómanaged to live without "I'm not sure," he went on, "the
situation is as serious as you believe, Seer. But there's no harm
in preparing for certain eventualities. So let me ask you what
must be done right now?"
"Declare martial law," Tenedos said promptly. "We cannot do
that," Protogenes said. "That's a prerogative of the Rule of Ten."
"Is there any reason you can't do everything short of the actual
declaration?" Tenedos asked. "By this I mean mobilize the army
immediately. Put small roving patrols under the command of
battle-experienced officers, in the streets. Move the men out of
the cantonments, sir. Put them in, as emergency reinforcements,
at the wardens' posts. The people already fear the worst, so
seeing the army about, ready for action, should reassure the
faithful and perhaps make the wicked rethink their plans.
"Sometimes a show of force is enough. But that should not be
all. You should... sirs, you must reinforce the army, here in
Numantia, and you must reinforce them with the best." "You
mean the frontier forces," Turbery said. "Just that. Pull Captain &
Cimabue's regiment, the Ureyan Lancers, plus the other two
Ureyan units ..."
"The Twentieth Heavy Cavalry and the Tenth Hussars," I put in.
"Pull them down here at once. Commandeer swift steamers and
have them sail south as soon as possible. If I were in your chair,
sir, I'd have a dispatch out within the hour with the order. I'd
further bring another ten regiments of the best in, keeping them
hidden outside the city to see if the situation worsens." "That
would leave the borders undefended," Protogenes objected.
"What does a finger, a hand, a foot, mean if the heart is
about to be impaled?" Tenedos said, his voice heated. "When
the present emergency is over, even if the worst happens, we'll
be able to retake the Frontiers. But if Nicias goes down in
chaos... we might as well turn those lands over to Achim Fergana
and the other bandits. They'd be no worse off.
"Another thing that must be done immediately, although it is
nearly too late. All food supplies must be commandeered and
moved to a central location, where they can be well guarded. We
can strike at the mob through its stomach, if it's forced to come
to us for rations.
"We must also put out foraging parties into the outlying districts,
and send word to all cities on the river that we are prepared to
pay, in hard gold, for any supplies that can be brought in and
given to the proper authorities. If thievish merchants take too
great an advantage, we'll simply commandeer what they have at
swordpoint.
"The people who stand by us must and shall be fed. Only then
will they stand firm behind us."
"You are a man of strong measures, indeed," Turbery said.
"Yet..."
"Sir," Tenedos said, "this is an action that must be taken. We
serve Numantia. Now is the time to serve her well, not with half-
measures or no measures at all."
He knew when to shut up, and silence hung in the large chamber
for a long, long time. I dared not move, hardly dared breathe, for
fear of breaking the mood he'd created.
"General," Turbery said to bis superior, "what the seer is telling
us isn't altogether fresh information."
"Dammit, it isn't," the old man said. "But he doesn't have to sound
so damned gleeful about it!" They were talking as if neither of us
were in the chamber.
"As he said, these are harsh days," Turbery said. "I'm of a mind
to do as he suggests. After all, the Rule of Ten have seldom
expressed much interest when we move our soldiers about, so
long as they themselves are well-guarded."
Protogenes nodded, like a great, wise bear.
"Yes," he said. "I despise judgments of the ; of the moment,
fear-
* ing them to be based on the heart's summons. But I sense the
seer is telling something very close to the truth, General Turbery.
We shall follow bis suggestions."
Tenedos only smiled a bit, but knowing him as I did, I could feel
the pure joy radiate.
"Still further," Protogenes went on. "I am of a mind that this seer,
whether he's using magic or just common sense, is giving us far
better insights than our other advisers and staff. "Seer, I would
like you to give up your teaching duties, at least until the present
situation clarifies itself, and work directly under myself and
General Turbery. I don't know what the position might be called,
but I'll give you full powers, in writing, to do whatever you think is
necessary, and I mean anything. Just one favor: Before you start
moving my whole damned army about, at least do me the favor
of telling us." He chuckled, but there wasn't much humor in the
laugh. "I'm not sure what else to order, but as the days pass I'm
certain there'll be changes made. Will you serve us, sir?"
Tenedos rose.
"There could be no greater pleasure or honor, sir, than to serve
you... and all Numantia."
"Very well. Is there anything you need?" "Yes," Tenedos said.
"I'd like to have Captain a" Cimabue detached from his regiment
and assigned to me." "Done. Captain, will you need anything?"
"No, sir." Then I thought. "Or, rather, yes, sir. Not for me, but for
the seer."
Tenedos frowned, but I continued. "Sir, I've served under the
seer for more than two years, and I think he's a great man. I
shouldn't be saying this in front of him, I suppose, for it sounds
like I'm sucking up. But it's the truth. He has one monstrous flaw,
though. He won't see when he's in jeopardy, and I know, right
now, he is in the greatest danger of his life, as great a one as
Numantia herself."
I don't know where these words were coming fromóI was not
generally gifted with the ability to make speeches. But now they
flowed easily.
"I think that's a reasonable assumption," Turbery said. "So what
would you have us do?"
"Order him to find safe living quarters, sir. Right now it'd take no
more than one or two Tovieti, creeping in at night,
and..." I stopped.
"The captain exaggerates," Tenedos said. "I'm sure my magic
would warn me." I felt like responding that at least twice before
he hadn't been able to foresee an action of Thak's, but kept my
mouth closed.
"Your suggestion is excellent," Turbery said. "As it happens, we
have just the place, not half a mile from this palace. It was used
to house hostages who were in fact prisoners, and is hence easy
to guard and hold. Seer Tenedos, I order you to move into these
quarters."
"Very well, sir."
Protogenes was studying me closely.
"Seer Tenedos," he said, "is this man to be trusted?'
"Absolutely, sir."
"It strikes me," the old man said, "remembering my own days as
a junior officer, how hellish hard it was to get anything done if it
didn't coincide with the interests of my superiors.
"The easiest solution would be to promote you, Captain a
Cimabue. Just as it'd be easier for you, Seer, if you held the rank
of, say, general. But I'm not prepared to do that, at least not yet.
General Turbery, when you have Seer Tenedos's orders drawn
up, also include the captain's name in that.
"You, sir, are now empowered to do anything you think necessary
to not only save Numantia, but to keep the seer alive."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." I saluted.
"That's all," General Protogenes said. "We shall be in almost
daily contact, I'm sure. Now, we have set ourselves a task. It is
time to go to work."
"Thank you, sir," I said as Tenedos and I rode away from the
palace.
"I'm not sure I was right in asking for you to attend this * meeting,
which I did not only because I wished you to share the honor, but
because I shall need your clearheadedness in the days to
come."
"Why not?"
"Now it would appear I have acquired a nursemaid. Hmmph."
I laughed, then asked, "Sir. Your opinion. Will this save the day?"
Tenedos considered for a long time before he answered.
"I don't know. Certainly the generals said all the right words and
supposedly gave me complete powers. But they are as much a
part of the system as the Rule of Ten. They rose to their present
positions under it, so I wonder if they're able to question things
as deeply as they should."
"I noted you said nothing about it being time for the Rule of Ten
to be replaced."
"Of course not." Tenedos snorted. "I'm mad... but I'm hardly a
fool."
Three hours later a messenger from the Palace of War came to
report that the "orders in question" had been dispatched, and that
the Tauler and six of the other fast packets had been
requisitioned by the army for "special purposes."
Now all we had to do was hang on until some real soldiers
arrived, and we could move to the next step: going into the
warrens of Nicias and winkling out the Tovieti.
Domina Lehar liked it little when I told him of my new assignment.
He said he'd been counting on me to help rebuild the regiment,
and I almost felt sorry for him. But what the hells did he think his
badges of rank were given him foróto impress the other rice
planters at a formal ball? I'm sure he was even less happy when I
informed him I'd be stealing certain of his warrants. The Golden
Helms may have been a useless formation in my eyes, but there
were certain men I'd noted as being worthwhile.
The first, after Troop Guide Karjan, was Legate Petre, of
course. He grumbled that he'd not joined the army to be a
warden, but when I told him how important it was, and would he
rather be teaching his men just why the inside of their buckles
should be polished when they went on parade, he gave in.
Quite joyously I put away the Helms' dress uniform for a simpler
fighting dress of a helmet with plain reached crest, nosepiece,
and cheek plates; mail waistcoat over a flaring silk blouse; tight
pants; boots with sideplates; and a cloak. Instead of a shield I
laced a steel guard to my left forearm. I ignored the normal
cavalry lance and saber, and carried a plain straight sword of the
style I preferred, a dagger shorter than the one I'd dueled
Malebranche with, and, unstrung and kept in a saddle-carrier with
war-arrows, a short compound bow.
My first task was to make sure Seer Tenedos's new quarters
were completely secure. The building was just as Turbery had
said, a four-story circular tower with a moat on the outside and a
small keep on the inside. It had sat disused for years, so the first
order of business was getting it cleaned. As one of my last
duties with the Helms, I'd set my own troop to the task. The
"Silver Centaurs" howled complaints about being no better than
housemaids when I turned them out with brooms, mops, and
orders to clean the building until it shone like their helmets. I
refrained from agreeing that was about the limit of their abilities.
I wished I'd not been so cavalier as to loan Legate Yonge to
Maran's friend. I could have used him and his friends, but my
word had been given. When I thought of Amiel, Maran's face and
body crashed into my mind, and I was swept away for an instant,
thinking of her. But then I came back, and hoped she was lying
tanned, lithe, and lazy on the deck of her husband's yacht. I also,
idiotically, hoped she was celibate, and that her husband had
acquired an acute shrinking disease in his private parts.
I fought my mind back to duty and the job of protecting Tenedos.
I wished the Lancers would hurry and arriveóI planned to loot
them thoroughly for Tenedos's bodyguard.
The best I could manage at present was to select men from
the units around the capital, not accepting volunteers for
obvious reasons, and then assign them to their details
randomly. Even if there were Tovieti among them, and I
assumed there were, they would have little time to plan an attack
and, since I teamed up the soldiers arbitrarily, the chances of
everyone on a detail being conspirators was unlikely. Each day I
reshuffled the details as well, and once a week returned the
men to their units to be replaced with fresh soldiery.
As senior warrants I used Karjan and the other warrants I'd stolen
from the Helms. Karjan, even though he gave me a dark look
from time to time, proved an excellent leader, and I found myself
depending more and more on him.
But all this was no more than putting a plaster on a scratch while
the patient was bleeding to death from a hundred wounds. I
wondered what would come next, how this unrest in Nicias would
be permanently ended.
Kutulu was also reassigned to Tenedos, and with him came his
stacks and boxes of cards. He also brought some assistants.
I don't know what duties Tenedos put them to, but when I asked
the warden if I could borrow a few of his men to instruct my
guards in the fine art of security, he snapped that I could notóhe
was casting for far greater fish.
I saw little of Tenedos during this time. He was closely guarded
in his travels by specially picked guards who worked directly for
the Palace of War. I didn't trust them entirely, but could do little
until my own escorts were chosen and ready.
He came back to the tower late one night, and came into my
quarters.
"I would dearly appreciate a small brandy," he sighed, "and the
hells with the state of emergency. There are times you've got to
cheat on yourself."
I kept a flask for exactly these times, and poured him a drink. He
sipped at it. "In case you have ever wondered, the singularly
most stubborn, selfish, thickheaded people who walk this earth
are magicians."
I said I was already very well aware of that, thank you. "Have you
heard of the Chares Brethren?" I had not. He explained they
were a group of the most influential magicians in Nicias. They
weren't a secret order, but were quite comfortable with few
people knowing of their existence.
"They were created," Tenedos went on, "as a sort of mutual aid
society. They've also become a very powerful political group in
Nicias. I've been trying to woo mem and I'd just as soon try to
seduce ten temple virgins at once, or herd a flock of rabid
sheep."
"Might I ask why?"
"I won't be specific, Damastes, because my idea might be a
foolish one. Perhaps you know that magic is the most selfish of
all the arts." I did not.
"A magician works a spell to benefit himself or, grudgingly, a
client, for which he expects to be richly rewarded. The more
selfish the deed, the more likely it is to be granted, or so it
seems to me. Perhaps that's why there's more talk of black
magic than white. Certainly spells that have been tried,
altruistically trying to spread a blanket of peace over the world, or
ending famine, seldom seem to take.
"Or perhaps the gods are happy seeing us squirm in misery. "At
any rate, I had a thought on the matter, and am trying to get these
raving fountains of all knowledge to help me test it.
"But so far all they're doing is talking, and don't seem to notice
that the world is in flames around them."
I was wandering around the outside of the tower, trying to think
like a Tovieti intent on breaking in and how I could thwart the
villain, when the messenger found me. He was a Golden Helm,
and with the adjutant's compliments, could I find the time to return
to the Helms' cantonment on what I might consider personal
business?
I couldn't imagine how I had any personal business at all * these
days, but grudged the time, telling Petre where I was going.
Sitting outside the regimental headquarters was a for-hire pony
trap. I dismounted, pulled off my helmet, and entered.
Maran was sitting on a bench, just inside the door. She came to
her feet as I entered, and gladness lit her face. Then it vanished,
and I saw that look of an innocent who'd somehow sinned without
knowing it and expected to be punished.
She rushed into my arms and I held her, my helmet clanging to
the floor unnoticed. I did not know what to say or do. Looking
over her shoulder I saw a leather valise sitting by the bench.
We stood in silence for a space. Then she said, her voice a bit
muffled against my shoulder. "This is the first time I've ever
hugged anybody wearing armor."
"I hope not the last," I managed.
She stepped back, and we looked at each other wordlessly.
"I left him," she said.
"When?"
"Three days ago. We docked at some island, and we were
supposed to have a big banquet with its governor. And... and I
couldn't do it. I couldn't do any of it. Not anymore.
"I threw some things in that bag, found a sailor who had a fast
boat, offered him gold, and he took me back to Nicias." She
smiled a little. "He was old enough to be my grandfather, but I still
think he hoped I'd think him young and lusty."
"Idiot," I said fondly. "You could have been sold to the pirates."
"Would you have come looking for me if I had?"
Of course the notion was quite absurdóI had a far more serious
duty here. But I knew enough to lie, and as the words came I
knew they weren't lies at all, but the raw truth.
"Always and forever."
I kissed her, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Captain
Lardier peer out of his office, look shocked, and vanish.
"Are you sure of what you've done?" I asked her.
She nodded. "I'll never go back to him. Not even if you and I...
not ever." She stepped away from me.
"I came here as soon as we landed. Now ... I guess I'll go to
our... my house. I'll have his things moved out, I suppose. My
family will be too busy screaming for a while for me to go near
them." She looked wistful. "I wish I could stay with you. But I
guess that'd be scandalous."
"Worse than that," I agreed. "Forbidden by law." I didn't like the
idea of her going back to that house, even if every sign of Count
Lavedan was stripped away. Also, more logically, I assumed that
others might know of our affair, and see Maran as a way to me,
and through me to Seer Tenedos.
But there was no other choice.
Then the idea struck. For the first time, and one of the few times
thereafter, I used a trust dishonestly. And by the gods I'm glad I
was brave enough to do it. I felt that men, and I feel it now, even
knowing what came later. If I had unlimited powers, by Jaen I was
now going to use, or rather misuse,
them.
"But you aren't going back to that mansion," I said firmly.
"Then where?"
"You are going to live in a nice, safe tower, surrounded by men
who'll do anything to ensure you're safe. With me. That is, if you
wish."
Maran looked at me, and again I fell into the dark, warm depths of
her eyes.
"I wish," she whispered. "Oh, Damastes, how I wish."
"This is most irregular," Tenedos said. "But I can see your point.
I don't think you could be blackmailed even if the countess were
a hostage, but there is no point in taking the chance."
"Thank you, sir." I was vastly relieved.
Tenedos shrugged.
"Since it's already done, it would look even stranger if I
countermanded your orders."
"Might I suggest you consider doing the same with Baroness
Rasenna? There's more than enough room."
"No," Tenedos said firmly. "First, because at the moment I
have no time for anything personal. Secondly, she is in no
danger whatsoever."
"Are you sure?"
"If it makes you feel better, know that I cast a certain spell using,
among other things, some of my own blood. Rasenna is very
safe, very invisible, even if Thak himself came seeking her. Now,
please remove your long Cimabuan nose from my business!"
"Yes, sir."
Two weeks passed, and we'd heard no word about the
reinforcing units upriver. Worse, the Palace of War informed us
that heliograph stations along the river were not answering
signals.
Where was the army?
It was ugly riding the streets of Nicias. There was no more open
violence, but only because no soldier or member of the
government rode alone, but with a full escort. Bodies were still
found in the streets at dawn.
It looked as if there were only two classes left in the capital: the
commoners, who held the streets in sullen anger, and the gentry,
who huddled in their enclaves. The merchants, clerks,
tradersóall the middle levels of Niciasóseemed to have either
vanished or joined the lower classes, waiting for something to
happen.
I started awake, hearing the chanting of many voices. Torchlight
flared into my open window, and I rolled out of bed, naked, fully
awake, reaching for the sword hanging from its sheath on the
bedstead.
Mardn sat up, sleep-dazed.
"What is it?'
I didn't know, but I hurried to the window and peered out. Our
rooms were on the third level of the tower, looking toward the
city, away from the Palace of War.
The night was a sea of bobbing torches, the streets alive
with marching men and women. I could hear bits of what they
were chanting, but no more than a word here, a word there:
"Bread... peace... down with the Rule... voice of... people...
Numantia... burn or live..." and through it a thin chorus: "Saionji...
Saionji... Saionji..."
Maran was beside me, wearing only the thin shift she'd been
wearing when I came to bed, exhausted from work, hours after
she'd retired. She leaned out the window, elbows on the sill,
fascinated.
"Can you feel it, Damastes?" she whispered. "Can you feel it?
The goddess is calling."
It was just the roar of the crowd, but then it came to me, she
came to me, the goddess, the destroyer, the Creator calling to
my blood, and it stirred.
Powerful magic was abroad this night, and it moved me, and I
wanted to go out, to be down there, amid the crowd, ready to
rend and tear, then, from the ashes, to build a new realm, a realm
of absolute freedom, where all that could be wanted was there
for the taking.
Maran turned, and I saw her eyes gleam in the torchlight "It's like
Tenedos said," she whispered. "A new world. A new time. I can
feel it, Damastes, I can feel it like the Wheel turns. Can't you?"
I could indeed, and it gripped me, seized me by the throat, and
all the dark passions rose high, and now there might have been
drums out there in the night, or it might have been my pulse, but
then it changed, and it was not Saionji's manifestation of Isa, six-
headed war god, but rather Jaen, and my cock rose hard,
throbbing, painful.
I was behind Maran, pulling her shift up above her waist, forcing
her legs apart, and then I impaled her on my cock, burying it in
one thrust, and she whimpered and Jaen took her as well, and
she thrust back against me and cried out I pulled back, until the
head of my cock was at her inner lips, then rammed forward, my
hands finding her breasts, pulling her against me, and she
screamed, scream buried in the crowd-roar outside, and again
and again, each time thrusting K deeper, reaching, tearing
deeper into her body, into her soul, and I shouted as I came,
gushing hot, hot as the fires inside the earth that made Thak.
After a time, time came back, and I realized I was lying half-out
the window across Maran, crushing her against the sill.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Don't apologize," she said. "Just... give me a little warning next
time. So I can put a pillow down."
I slipped out of her, took her in my arms, and we stumbled back
to the bed.
"I have the feeling," she murmured, after we'd calmed, "I'll be a
little sore tomorrow."
She stroked my chest.
"I think, my love, that what we just did is what I've heard called
sex-magic. Amiel loaned me a book about it once."
Darkness touched me for a second. "Sex-magic for who?" I
asked. "Who called it?"
"I don't know," she said. "But I've never felt anything like it. And^I
don't know if I want to ever again. I feel like... like we were, not
used, but part of somebody that's not us. No, maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe we were no more than someone's vassal."
The Tovieti's sorcerers? Thak himself?
Oróand the thought made me shudderóSaionji herself? Was
the goddess of destruction out there, hanging over Nicias,
smiling as she saw the order that had always been tremble?
I don't know if sex-magic was cast that night, if others were
grabbed and shaken by a spell, or if it was just MaraVs and my
own sudden lust.
But the next day Nicias shattered into chaos.
TWENTY The Fires of Nicias I here are many tales of what
caused the riots. Some I say a peasant's child was ridden down
by a noble-
JL man's carriage, others that a young girl was brutally beaten by
the wardens, others that it began in a drunken bar fight between
some government clerks and some carters.
I don't doubt any of them, but I don't believe the city erupted over
a single incidentóthe madness spread too rapidly. There'd been
too many years of the poor being neglected and downtrodden,
too many years with their leaders not leading, too many years of
instability, and so the city was like a pile of dry wood that a
burning ember is touched to there ... there ... there ... and the
wildfire explodes.
The commoners ran rampant, burning, looting, beating, killing,
and raping when they encountered an enemy, or simply
someone who looked better off than they were.
The wardens fled to their stations and barricaded themselves in;
the soldiers hid in the barracks; the rich cowered in their
mansions; while the Rule of Ten and the Nicias Council met in
emergency session and did nothing.
Again the disorders struck home. Rask, one of the Rule of Ten,
Farel's comrade, simply disappeared, and no one knows * what
became of him to this day. A mob sacked the Council Hall,
happened on four of the city councilors, and tore them apart.
Scopas came to the tower to consult with Tenedos, and the seer
told me what their conversation had been. Tenedos made the
same suggestions he had before, and once again Scopas
weaseled on taking such drastic steps. Perhaps, he said, since
the commoners are mostly looting their own quarters, they should
be let alone until their frenzy dies away.
Surprisingly, Tenedos agreed with what was happening, at least
partially. "Let the poor burn their tenements and slums," he told
me. "When this is over, we'll be able to rebuild Nicias as it is
supposed to look." That callousness shocked me, but I think I
was able to hide my reaction. "But anyone who thinks this rising
will run out of combustibles is a fool. The Tovieti, and Chardin
Sher's agents, will make sure that will not happen."
The insanity grew worse and worse.
Days passed, and there was still no sign, nor word, of the
soldiers who'd been summoned from the Frontiers. Tenedos
tried casting a spell, but said nothing happened. It was, he said,
like trying to peer through a dense fog. He said this could mean
only one thing-ósorcery, which meant the Tovieti were keeping
the troops from the capital.
I'd had Tenedos use his emergency powers to move the Golden
Helms, the Nineteenth Foot, and two other of the parade
regiments into tents in Hyder Park, equidistant from our tower,
the Palace of War, and the Rule of Ten's palace, for security and
as an immediate reaction force. They whined about having to
forsake their comfortable brick barracks. I suspected if the
rioters left them alone, they'd be quite content to sit there
polishing brass and practicing empty roundelays on the parade
ground until all Nicias was ashes around them. Instead, they
rode, and walked, guard; and made short patrols through the
city's major thoroughfares, complaining all the while. Terrible
soldiers, but they were the only game in town. At least, I wryly
thought, I probably didn't have to worry about
any of the complainers being Tovietióthose would be most
grateful for any chance to get close to Tenedos, the Rule of Ten,
or the army staff.
It was a terrible time, and there were terrible sights.
I saw a screaming, drunken woman run into the middle of a
square just as a column of the Helms rode into it. She was
waving something I couldn't distinguish. But another soldier
could, and a horseman spurred his horse into a gallop, his lance
dropped into position, and the woman went spinning away, blood
spattering the cobbles.
The soldier pulled his lance free, and came back to us, and by
that time I had my sword out, and at his throat.
'Tell me one reason," I said, "you should not die for murder, you
bastard!"
"Sir... you didn't see what she had in her hand. Sir, it was a man's
jewels ... cock an' all!" Paying no heed to my blade, he vomited
suddenly. I could not kill him, but at least I told Troop Guide
Karjan to deal with him later. Perhaps I should have slain the
man. I don't know.
I told Maran some of what I saw in my daily rounds, but not about
the emasculator. No woman of her youth should know about such
evil. I just considered that thought, and realize how foolish it is.
No one of any age or any sex should be subjected to what we
went through in those days.
After a week, the city was paralyzed. But that was not enough.
Now the Tovieti moved out, smoothly taking command of the
mob.
They didn't burn their own hovels anymore, but rather sent raiding
expeditions into the rich parts of Nicias. Stores miles from the
slums were ripped apart and fired. There was no doubt as to who
was leading the rabbleóbodies would be carefully left for the
patrols to find, always with the yellow silk cord around their
throats.
Next signs appeared, scrawled huge on walls demarcating
certain districts like Chicherin. Sometimes they held messages:
* NO ARMY WARDENS DIE FROM HERE ON NO RULE OF
TEN BEYOND THIS SIGN FREE CHICHERIN Or sometimes it
was simpler, just a scrawled, twisting line in yellow.
"Quite interesting," Tenedos observed. "The Tovieti's progress
would make an excellent case study. First chaos, then strike
directly against the enemy, then delineate your own territory,
where you'll make the laws and customs. They'll keep the
pressure on us, making sure the Rule of Ten never have a
chance to take a deep breath, let alone think or listen to what I'm
trying to tell them. As the days pass the Tovieti will gain recruits,
since all mankind flocks to join a winner. When they think they're
strong enough, then they'll come for us. Fascinating.
"What puzzles me is who was the mastermind of this plan? It isn't
Thakóno demon, no matter how powerful, could be expected to
understand the affairs of man so closely. Nor would it be Chardin
Sher or his errand boy Malebranche.
"It could only be that unknown being who first summoned Thak to
carry out his dreams for mankind.
"It is a pity Thak slew him, for now I know that must be the case,
or he would have resurfaced and tried to bring his juggernaut
under control.
"I wish I'd known the man, for his ideas are most interesting."
I rather hoped Thak had spent a long time enjoying himself with
his master before letting him return to the Wheel, and that it
would be many turnings before Irisu allowed him to reincarnate
as anything above a slime-worm.
The nobility were almost as insane with terror as the mob was
with blood lust. They would hire, and pay any amount, for the
services of a man who owned a sword and promised to keep
them alive. Naturally, some of these men, and I heard of a few
women as well, were phonies or, worse,
thieves who used this trust for opportunity. And some of them
were Tovieti.
Mahal, hurrying home to his lustful young wife, was pulled from
his carriage and strangled by his own bodyguard. The man was
cut down by Mahal's driver, but the Rule of Ten was now seven
strong.
No one had much time to mourn Mahal. In the predawn hours of
the next morning the rabble formed around the barracks of the
Second Heavy Cavalry, whose domina had refused to deploy
them closer to the palace. The sentries were silenced, and men
with torches, pikes, and strangling cords slid into the compound.
The unit woke to screams, flame, and death. Perhaps one or two
of the men of the Second Cavalry managed to escape. If so,
none of them ever returned to the army. In less than three hours,
an entire regiment of the Numantian Army was obliterated. This
had never happened in all the army's proud history, at least not
for the last thousand years records had been kept.
At noon that day General Urso Protogenes rode out to the still-
flaming ruins of the Second's barracks. He'd refused a heavy
escort, saying he'd be gone only a few minutes, hardly time
enough for any of "those villains" to put together an ambush.
The legate in charge of the five-man party said General
Protogenes had taken a look at the sprawled bodies of what he
sincerely believed had been fine soldiers, and heavy sobs had
shaken his chest. He kept shaking his head in disbelief, but his
eyes could find no ease.
"My people," the legate heard him whisper, and no one knows if
he was talking about Nicians or his soldiers.
He bade the legate wait a moment; he wished to step inside the
regimental office, which was no longer aflame. There was
something he hoped to find there.
Ten minutes later, when the general had not reemerged, the
alarmed young officer went looking for him.
The general had evidently gone out the back door of the office,
across the rear of the compound, and out into the city.
* He was another who was never seen again, nor did his
murderers ever claim credit for helping a sad old man find the
death he sought By now we were so hardened that the next
deaths almost made us smile. Another of the Rule of Ten's
councilors, notorious for preferring the most brutal of
bedpartners, couldn't restrain his lust. He, along with the
mealymouthed chamberlain, Olynthus, went looking for
satisfaction one night.
Their bodies were found sprawled in front of the Rule of Ten's
palace the next morning. The cords that strangled them would
have come as a blessing, from the savage wounds on the
corpses.
This was finally enough for the Rule of Ten. They determined to
negotiate with the mob, with the Tovieti, even though there'd
been no leaders show themselves, nor any demands made.
The Rule of Ten's speaker, Barthou, managed to convince five
of Nicias's smoothest-tongued diplomats to take on this vital
mission. Tenedos said he'd been asked if he wished to
accompany them, and he'd told Barthou he thought the speaker
was mad.
With a full troop of the Helms, who actually were beginning to
shape into something vaguely resembling soldiers, I escorted
the five to the edges of the Chicherin district, where the riots had
first broken out, and where the Rule of Ten had somehow
decided the heart of the rebellion was.
The negotiators had white flags tied to staves, and, holding them
high overhead, the five walked down the winding street into the
slum.
Half an hour later, I heard a single scream, a scream that
reflected all of the pain the world could hold.
Then silence. We waited for another hour, until rooftops began
bristling with slingers and even a few archers, then wheeled our
horses and rode back to the tower.
General Turbery took over command of the army, and ordered all
troops to withdraw into a ring around the Rule of Ten's palace.
We would hold, and then strike back from there.
With them came those wardens who'd faithfully tried to hold their
outlying stations. The regiments were ordered to loot as they
came, so every granary and warehouse was stripped bare. As
the troops marched or rose into the parks around the palace, the
rich, the noble, all those who were the Tovieti's or the mob's
targets, came with them. Makeshift camps were set up
everywhere.
Among them were Amiel and her husband, Pelso, still loyally
guarded by Legate Yonge and his three scoundrels. I wished I
could find a way to move the count and countess into the tower,
but knew there wasn't one. Rasenna had also arrived inside the
perimeter from wherever Tenedos had been keeping her hidden,
and at least she was allowed to be with the seer.
I took Yonge aside, and told the hillman his charges were now
safe in the bosom of the army, his responsibility was over, and I
needed him and his friends desperately.
Yonge looked sly. "Ah, Captain Damastes, but I cannot. You
remember what I told you once, how impressed I was with your
way of honor and loyalty, even unto death?" "I do."
"Then I must hold to my oath and still serve the Lord and Lady
Kalvedon." He looked most pious.
"Besides," I said dryly, "I wouldn't be paying you in good red
gold."
"There is that," Yonge said, brown teeth flashing. "There is that,
indeed."
I went to Tenedos and asked him how long would we have to
prepare for the attack.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I've been having better luck with my
magic, and whatever spells Thak has been spreading are
wearing thin. I can feel it building, feel them readying their
weapons. I'd say, oh, three days. Five at the outside." "What do
you think our chances are?" "Well, let's count, or guess, really,
since I haven't counted noses. Let's think as small as we can.
We have four regiments around us, two thousand men. A
thousand wardens. Another six or eight thousand fugitives, let us
imagine, although I'll Hi wager there's twice that many. Then
there's the government clerks, diplomats, hangers-on, magicians
... other useless types.
"Against us, what? Half a million? A million?" "Sir, aren't you
supposed to be a pillar of inspiration?" "Only to legates and
below. Captains can keep their own lips stiff. Besides, I'm certain
with truth and justice on our side we'll win through," he said
bitterly.
"Oh. One other thing." He reached in his pocket, took out a small
ornate metal case, and handed it to me. "There are two tablets
inside. If the gods don't find it in them to change our luck, you
and the countess are welcome to these.
"They're painless and shall return you to the Wheel in seconds."
I left his cheerful company and started detailing men to dig
trenches.
When the sun rose the next morning, welcome warmth cutting
through the mists, the Latane River was a cacophony of ships'
bells and whistles.
The army had finally arrived.
TWENTY-ONE Retribution I he whistles and bells sounded the
mob's doom as well I as our salvation, and they and the Tovieti
knew it. A A. group of them charged the docks, but were broken
against the arrows coming in from the transports and from the
welcoming force I'd quickly assembled.
The riverboats moved to the docks then, and gangplanks
dropped and long lines of men snaked across them, carrying
their weapons with the ease of long familiarity. They paid no mind
to the jeers and chants coming from other parts of the waterfront,
but keenly looked about, evaluating a new battlefield, and, as like,
what loot might present itself.
There was no singing, no flashing display, and I wanted to grab
each of the surviving Helms by the throat and say, "See, this is
what soldiers are, not your empty bullshit of trumpets, parades,
and banners."
General Turbery and Tenedos arrived just as the formation's de
facto commander, normally head of the Varan Guard, was
disembarking. He was a tall, rawboned man, cleanshaven, with
short hair and a scar-seamed face, Domina Myrus Le Balafre. I
knew him by reputation, a brawler, a swordsman, a duelist who'd
killed more than his share, and a supremely confident and able
battle commander.
* He saluted General Turbery.
"I thought you might never come," the general said.
"I thought the same," the domina said. "We should have
expected opposition the minute we put out down the river. But we
didn't... and paid hard for our confidence. But no matter now.
"Sir. I have the honor to present the relief force for Nicias,
thirteen regiments strong, six of horse, seven of foot. We await
your orders."
General Turbery hesitated, thinking. Tenedos stepped forward.
"Sir, may I offer a suggestion?"
Domina Le Balafre scowled at him.
"Who the blazes are you, sir, if I might ask?"
"Seer Laish Tenedos, special adviser to the general of the
armies. Sir."
The two men stared hard at each other. Domina Le Balafre was
the first to lower his gaze, but I felt the clash of wills had just
begun. General Turbery turned to the seer.
"Go ahead, sir. You've always been the first with an idea."
"Sir," Tenedos said, "I think we should not wait, not develop a
firm plan. Let us move immediately. Put the regiments into the
parks, break them down into battle formation, and move them out
into the city at first light. The Tovieti will never expect that."
General Turbery blinked, then turned to Le Balafre.
"Can that be done?"
The domina was as startled as the general. Then he considered,
and smiled tightly.
"Yes. We can manage that. Yes, indeed. That would be a short,
sharp shock for the rabble. Sir, I can guarantee the Varan Guard
will be ready, and... let me think... at least half, most likely more of
the regiments. Maybe all of them," he thought aloud. "I'd suggest
you only hold one of them back. The Seventeenth Ureyan
Lancers won't be ready to fight."
My own regiment! A pang touched me. What had happened? Le
Balafre went on to explain, and now we found why
the army was so late. They'd not been able to move downriver as
fast as they should, because the supplies and new driving belts
for the TaKIer-type transports "somehow" weren't waiting at
dockside as had been arranged. But things had not come to real
grief until they entered the great delta, upstream from Nicias, just
below the city of Cicognara. They'd encountered dense river
fogs that forced them to tie up for days.
"Did you not recognize sorcery, sir?" Tenedos said.
"I pay little heed to magicians," Le Balafre said. "This time,
it was my error."
General Veli, the expedition's commander, had realized time was
running short, and so, in spite of the weather, had set out once
more. The fleet had become lost in the delta, taking dead-ended
passages or channels that shallowed uselessly. In one long,
narrow strait they'd been attacked. The flagship had been hit by
huge boulders, catapult-launched, "although how the hells the
gods-damned rebels managed to build them, let alone wrangle
them into position in those gods-damned swamps, is beyond
me." The ship lost way, listed, and began sinking, and then
archers came from hiding and volleyed arrows into the men trying
to swim to shore.
"They killed General Veli then. And that's when the Lancers were
crippled. They had their domina, uh..."
"Herstal," I put in, in spite of myself. Le Balafre gave me a dark
lookócaptains don't interrupt dominasóbut said nothing.
"Herstal, yes, that's it, plus their adjutant and about half of their
senior captains had gone on the flagship for a conference. We
only fished a handful of men from the water, none of them
officers."
So my old enemy, Captain Lenett, was dead. Oddly, I was
disappointedóI had been looking forward to a chance to show
him he'd sadly misjudged me. Now, I'd never have the
opportunity.
Three other riverboats had been sunk, but the fleet had rescued
most of the men. Their attackers vanished into the swamps as
rapidly as they'd emerged.
They went on, and found the main channel, then lost it again.
"It was then I had a bit of an idea," Le Balafre said, smiling
grimly. "I'd heard, just rumors, y'know, about these scum and
their strangling cords. They haven't come yet to Varan, where
we'll give them a warm welcome.
"But I thought I' d have a peep into the gear of the riverboat pilots
and officers. You'll never guess what I discovered in eight of
them."
"What did you do with those Tovieti when you'd discovered
them?"
"Why, hung them, of course. They made pretty decorations on
the boat's cranes, dangling and kicking like pomegranates in a
summer wind." He looked hard at Tenedos, probably expecting
shock from the civilian.
"Good, sir," Tenedos said warmly. "Very good indeed. I promise
you you'll have more strange fruit to admire before you leave
Nicias."
Le Balafre nodded approval. "After that, we had no further
trouble, and we came on Nicias late last night. We didn't dock
because, frankly, we didn't know what our reception was. Glad
you were able to hold out."
"Yes," General Turbery said. "Now, let's get the soldiery ashore.
It'll be a long day preparing for the morrow."
"One thing before we move, sk," Tenedos said. "This matter of
the Lancers?"
"Yes?"
"I had the pleasure of having a troop of them guard me when I
was in Kait, andó"
"You're that Tenedos, eh?" Le Balafre interrupted. "My apologies
for being rude before, sir. You did well, sir. Very well indeed."
"I thank you." Tenedos turned back to Turbery. "As I was saying,
I found them to be excellent soldiers. I think it would be a pity to
lose their services now."
"You have a suggestion?"
"I do. Name Captain a Cimabue their domina. He's from the
regiment, and has served well."
Both the domina and the general gazed at me intently.
"Irregular," General Turbery said. "Most irregular... hmm."
He thought for a moment. "Jumping a man two full grades... that'll
not sit well with the army's list keepers, now will it?"
"And the hells with them," Le Balafre snapped. "As if you and I
haven't spent most of our careers battling those shit-heads,
always carrying on about who's senior to whom, and who's in the
Upper Half and who's in the Lower Half and who gets to sit ahead
of whom at the banquet.
"Balls to them all. I hope the Tovieti killed more than their share
down here."
General Turbery smiled a bit. "I'd forgotten how subtle and
diplomatic you were in your speech until now, Myrus." Once more
he considered. "You know, General Protogenes had said that,
when this emergency was over he wished to reward the captain if
he lived."
He looked at me closely. "Captain, do you think you can handle
the task?"
"Sir, I know I can." And I did. Hadn't I been ordering around, even
if indirectly, dominas and regiments lately? Maybe I was arrogant,
but I felt a swell of confidence.
"Then, sir, I take great honor in naming you, Captain... ?"
"Damastes, sir."
"Damastes k Cimabue, domina of the Seventeenth Ureyan
Lancers. Now, sir, take charge of your regiment!"
I came to attention. Domina Le Balafre looked about. "Hell of a
place to be promoted. No bands, no speeches, no pretty women
to kiss. Here, boy." He untied his own sash of rank and tied it
about my waist.
And so, on a greasy riverside dock, witnessed by one sorcerer,
one general, and one domina, I received my first regimental
command.
I was proud... and I was humble, remembering the faith of all
those, from my father to the brass-lunged instructors at the lycee
to the lances and warrants who'd taught me how to really soldier,
and knew I had to prove to their memory I'd been worm the
trouble.
Now I had to justify that faith.
* *
I was determined the Lancers would march out with the rest in
the morning if I personally had to be behind them with a whip.
First I found Regimental Guide Evatt, who looked most guilty,
remembering the way I'd been set for a fall by the late Captain
Lanett back in Nehul. I told him we had no time for the past. I
wanted him to take charge of disembarking the horses and
making them ready for the morrow. He hesitated, thinking of the
enormity of the task, and I told him bluntly if he wished to hold his
rank slashes he'd see it was done, no matter how. He had to call
on the entire regiment to make sure it was done, especially the
men of Sun Bear Troop, the regiment's support element.
I sent messengers to hunt down Legate Yonge, Legate Petre,
and Troop Guide Karjan.
I had Troop Guide Bikaner report to me immediately, and
informed him I was commissioning him legate. He looked
startled, then pleased. At least he wasn't another like Karjan. I
told him to take charge of the regiment's enlisted men and see
they were marched to the assembly area I pointed out on the
map, just on the shores of one of the lakes in Hyder Park. I told
him to clean out any civilians camped in the area, but to do it
politely, for they'd almost certainly be nobility, no matter how
shabbily dressed, and they'd have good aim at his ass if he lived
through the days to come, when normality, civility, and nitpicking
returned to the capital.
I had the regiment's surviving officers assemble, and introduced
myself. Most of them remembered me, if just as the young
legate who'd supposedly done something uncalled for at a rol
match, then redeemed himself in the Border States. My address
was simple and short. I told them there would be changes made,
some involving promotions over their heads, and they were to
keep their resentments hidden until later, or else I'd be most
displeased and take the extreme measures these extreme times
seemed to warrant.
I told them I'd admired the late Domina Herstal, which was
mostly the truth, and hoped to be worthy of commanding the
regiment he'd built. I finished by saying there were terrible days
ahead, and they'd need all of their courage and intelligence just
to survive.
"But survive you must, for I won't be able to finish the task without
you. Lead your troops as best you can, gallop always to the
sound of clashing steel, and you'll find no disfavor in my eyes.
"Lastly, you'll be facing a cunning, evil, duplicitous enemy. Hold in
your mind the skills of our troops. I want you to show the caution
of the sambar, the cunning of the tiger, the courage of the lion,
the stealth of the leopard, the speed of the cheetah, and, when
we're in battle, the tenacity of the sun bear.
"Now, go to your men and lead them as you've done in the past!"
A trifle pompous, perhaps, especially coming from a twenty-two-
year-old talking to older men, some in their late forties, but not as
bad as some inspirational speeches I've heard... or made, come
to think of it. At any rate the officers raised a ragged cheer before
they dispersed. But I knew their opinion of me was yet unformed,
and would be made the first time we met the enemy.
Liking the comparison to the animals our troops were named
after, I used the same analogy when I spoke to the regiment,
drawn up on the shores of the lake. I told them they must think of
me as new to the unit, so I had no grudges, no favorites, as yet
Each of them and all of them were given a clean slate and a fresh
opportunity.
"Soldier hard, soldier wellóand stay alive! Let the other bastard
die for his cause!"
The warrants raised a cheer, and the men set to.
Yonge and Petre had arrived as I was finishing, and I waved
them to me.
"Congratulations, my Captain," Yonge said. "I said you would
become a general one day, and now you are well on the way."
"Thank you, but save your admiration. You're through * guarding
the Kalvedons. You're promoted to captain, and I want you to
take over Sambar Troop. Their captain drowned coming
downriver. They're the regimental scouts, but I'm sure you can
teach them things about skulking."
Yonge grinned.
"I cannot argue with that. But how will these Numantians take
being led by a despised Man of the Hills?"
"They'll like it," I said shortly. "Because there's always room in the
rear rank for horsemen who used to have higher rank."
"Very good, Domina. I shall go and inspect my new command.
One thing more, sir. I have a message for you."
"Give it to me."
"I have but to show it." He pointed. Across the park, on the far
side of the regimental area, I saw Mar£n, sitting on a horse. I
waved, although I suppose a domina is supposed to be more
dignified. She waved back, then turned her horse and galloped
back toward the tower. I felt a glow of love and pride; she knew
I'd have no time for anything but the Lancers now.
It was Petre's turn. 'Take Tiger Troop," I said briefly. "You should
have no troublesóI remember them as the best of the regiment.
I'd make you my adjutant, but you're too damned valuable for
that. And you're now a captain as well, Mercia."
It was as if I'd given him the throne of Maisir.
"Thank you, Damastes ... I mean, Domina. Now we can show
them what we can do, can't we?" We grinned at each other like
fellow conspirators who'd just won their cause, then he saluted
and hurried off.
Finally, I spotted Troop Guide Karjan. I told him that he'd be
serving as my right hand. I couldn't promote him, because there
could be but one regimental guide, but expected him to serve in
that capacity. I guess he was becoming used to sudden change,
because he just grunted, and said he'd be making sure our
horses were ready for the morrow.
And so the Seventeenth Lancers set to work on our impossible
task.
Three hours before dawn, I was feeling a bit of satisfaction that
perhaps we'd be ready as promised, when a messenger came
and asked me, with General Turbery's compliments, to report to
the tower for briefing.
The large dining room had been cleared of furniture, and large
maps of Nicias hung around the walls. One by one the regimental
commanders who'd freshly arrived in the capital reported.
Already there were the dominas and captains of the four home
regiments, including my former commander in the Golden
Helms, Domina Lehar.
I was interested to see Kutulu and several of his assistants
conferring with Tenedos, each of them with a large box of files.
The general called us to attention, then told us we'd be given our
tasks by the seer.
Tenedos went to the map and, without notes or ever pausing,
told each of us our missions and what part of the city we'd be
moving into. He said that each domina would be given two aides:
one an officer from a Nician regiment, the other a warden who, in
Tenedos's words, "has specialized in the Tovieti. Take heed of
what they tell you, gentlemen, because their information is exact.
There'll be other wardens accompanying you who have been set
their own tasks." He paused for a moment.
"I wish you well," he said. 'This day we fight for Numan-
tia and the future."
I noted several of the ranking officers exchange looks, and could
easily read what they were thinking from expressionsó this was
no creaking pedant, far removed from the harsh realities of war.
Perhaps the Seer Tenedos deserved the respect he was getting
from the army's commanders.
General Turbery called us to attention and dismissed us after a
few encouraging words, and we streamed back out to our
commands.
Tenedos told me a week later that General Turbery had offered
him a direct commission as a general that afternoon, but he'd
turned it down. I asked why, and he said, 'Truthfully,
* because I wish no trace of the old order soiling the hem of my
garments. But I didn't tell the general that, but rather that I felt I
could be of more service observing from the outside."
I'd been astonished, having an idea of Tenedos's goals, and
wearing a general's red diagonal sash would have been a long
step toward achieving them. But the seer always preferred the
long shot that would strike directly home.
It was still dark when the troops moved out into Nicias. Company
by company the army moved into the assigned districts.
Wardens trotted behind them.
The first to go were the signs. They were ripped down or white
paint was splashed over them. Then the soldiers went in, street
by street, moving carefully, methodically, as we'd been ordered:
First the four corners of a block would be taken, and outposts
set. Then the troops smashed into the buildings, house by
house, never less than in squad strength. Each store, each
residence, was ransacked. Women screamed, babies wept, men
tried to fight back, but without effect. If obvious loot was found,
the residents were rousted into the street. If the items were
minor, their names were taken by the wardens and they were
released with a warning. Bigger items, gold, piled delicacies, too
many garments, and all adults were turned over to the wardens,
to be escorted to prison pens being hammered together outside
the Rule of Ten's palace.
If a yellow silk cord was found, or if there was evidence someone
had committed a serious crime, for instance if a warden's sword
or truncheon or bloodstained clothes were found, the men and
women of that apartment were told to stand aside and were well
guarded.
The search went on, house by house, tenement by tenement,
until the block was completely taken apart.
The ropes were tossed over the lamp standards and the Tovieti
and other men and women of violence were hanged
unceremoniously.
The soldiers would re-form and march to the next block,
the bodies dangling behind them and the wail of mourners
keening loud into the summer air.
Those were the orders that'd been given us, signed by the Rule
of Ten. I knew those weaklings wouldn't have the guts to order
such ruthlessness, and that the policy had been created by Seer
Tenedos.
The mob and the Tovieti were shocked into immobility by our
brutal and immediate tactics. All through that day and the next
there were outbursts of violence, quickly suppressed by the
soldiers, who did not use batons or blunted lances, but the sword
and spear.
It was not just civilians who died. Small, desperate bands of men
made sudden attacks, and squads went down screaming, and
there was always the silent archer who'd loose a single arrow and
flee. It was a man here, two men there, but the army was
bleeding badly, more than a hundred casualties each day.
This pacification went on day after day. I grew sick with slaughter,
but grimly kept on. There were things that happened at least as
bad as, and possibly worse than, in the riots, but at least the
rioters had the excuse of wine and rage to lessen the blame. We
did not.
I'll give but one example: I was riding with Lion Troop toward a
new district, passing through an area being cleared by the Varan
Guards. I saw the soldiers rush a tenement, and the screams
began. A window smashed open on an upper floor, and I saw a
warrant hurl something out. It spun down and thudded limply in
the street, not far from where I rode past. It was the body of a
boy, no more than ten.
I found the officer commanding that company, and raged at him.
He looked at me without expression until I'd finished, then said,
flatly, as if I weren't his superior, "Sorry, sir. But I have my
orders." I thought of smashing him down, but was too weary with
blood to do it. I turned back toward Lucan. "Besides," he said to
my back, "there's no great harm done. Nits grow up to be lice."
I determined to pursue the matter, but instead of complaining to
his domina, Le Balafre, I went to Tenedos.
* I found him in the tower, supervising six men who were
maneuvering a large, somewhat battered marble statue toward
his rooms on the floor above mine. I took him aside, told him
what had happened, and said it was hardly the only atrocity I'd
seen committed by our soldiery. Someone needed to rein the
army in, before we all became no more than a murderous mob
ourselves.
"Domina a Cimabue," he said, "I have no sympathy for you.
Perhaps you need a bit more iron in your soul. The Tovieti, and
those who fought with them, had no sympathy for us, neither
man, woman, or child. They declared utter war.
"We are fighting by their rules, and it's far too late to change
them. A ten-year-old is more than old enough to carry a
cobblestone to a roof and use it to crush a soldier's skull. We've
both seen that happen, seen boys and girls younger than that
even with blood on their hands.
"We can find people to mourn for the innocent once we've
tracked down the last of the guilty.
"We are in a state of war. You and the rest of the army have been
given lawful orders by the rulers of Numantia. Now carry them
out, sir."
That night, by chance, the Lancers were rotated back to the
perimeter to be given a full night's rest and a chance to clean up.
I took the opportunity to see Maran.
I was still so gripped by the sight of that dead child that I felt no
lust, no passion. I told Maran what had happened, and she was
as shocked as I'd been. After a time, she said, "I don't know what
to tell you, my love. Is there anything you can do?"
"I don't even know if there's anything I should do," I said
honestly. "I feel like I've been thrown into a pool of filth, and the
harder I struggle to get out of it, the dirtier I get."
I got up and went to the window, looking out at the city. Maran
joined me.
"Maybe this sounds stupid," she said. "But remember how it was
last week? All we could see was fires and darkness. Look now."
fll-
X,
From this distance, and in the darkness, the city did appear to be
returning to normal. The heights, where the rich lived, now
twinkled with occasional lights as the braver nobility found the
courage to return to their homes. The gas had been relit on the
boulevards around the palace, and it, too, looked almost as it had
been, although there were far too many splotches of darkness
and ruin.
"Come, my Damastes," she said softly. "I don't know any
answers, and neither do you. We have each other, and we can
sleep, and it may be less painful in the morning."
She was right. I took her in my arms and gently stroked the
softness of her hair.
From the floor above me, from Tenedos's rooms, I heard an
explosion, a crash. I yanked my sword from its sheath, tore out
the door and up the stairs. The bastards had found a way to get
at the seer!
I hammered at the door, and Tenedos pulled it open.
"You're all right?"
"Yes. I'm fine," he said. He looked over my shoulder and I turned
and saw other men crowding the landing, weapons at hand. "An
experiment of mine got out of hand," he explained. "There is
nothing to worry about. My apologies."
There were grumbles, and some laughter about the various
stages of undress the rescuers were in, and they filtered away
toward their rooms. But I remained behind, looking over his
shoulder through the door. His workroom was a shambles,
fragments of marble littering every square foot of the floor.
"Great gods," I said. "What happened?"
"I attempted a certain spell, which in fact didn't go awry, as I told
the others, but quite the contrary. Thank Saionji I gave Rasenna a
strong sleeping potion, since I thought there might be some
excitement. Not like this, however."
There was an elongated triangle etched into (he top of a round
table, with symbols carved around it In the center of the triangle
was a circle, and in that what I thought to be piled gems. I looked
more carefully, and saw that the flashing reflections from the fire
came from nothing more than shards of broken glass.
* "What is it?'
"It is, or rather I think it is, exactly what I have been seeking."
"Which means?"
"Which means I'm evoking a wizard's privilege of mystery, and
will tell you more when I choose to... or when the spell is put into
service, which I hope will be in no more than a day or two.
"Thank you for responding so swiftly, Damastes. Now, good
night."
I shrugged and left. If Tenedos would not tell me, there'd be
nothing I could do to cozen anything from him. I told Maran what
had happened as I undressed. Then the sight of that boy lying
dead in the street came back.
I shuddered, and climbed into bed. Mar n looked into my eyes.
"Do you want to make love?"
"No. I don't think so. I don't think I could."
She blew out the lamp.
"Do you want me to hold you?" she whispered in the silence.
"More than anything," I said. She put her arms around me and her
head on my shoulder. I caressed the softness of her cheek.
After some time, her breathing gentled and she slept.
I lay for a long time, staring up into the darkness.
The Tovieti were broken. All districts were secured, although of
course no one with any degree of sense traveled by night or in
groups of less than a dozen.
The Tovieti were broken, but not destroyed, and so the army and
the wardens began drum patrols.
Snares would rattle as a platoon of soldiers, backed by a team of
wardens, marched up to an address, generally at dawn. The
senior lawman would shout names from his list, and sleepy men
and women would stumble out.
These were known Tovieti, on the long lists that Kutulu and his
agents had gathered.
A yellow silk cord was tied around their necks, and the death
sentence read. Kutulu and his wardens had stacks of them,
signed by one or another of the Rule of Ten. All that was needed
was to fill in the name, toss a rope over a standard or pole, and
the sentence was carried out.
It was like currying a horse. The army had been the coarse
comb, now the fine-toothed one swept the capital.
Not only the poor died. I saw a face I recognized, blackened as it
was. Count Komroff, the man who'd renounced his title and
thought everyone should live in poverty and on milk, had evidently
found a more dynamic philosophy, since the yellow silk cord
dangled from his elongated neck.
Nicias, even in ruins, was close to normal. Only the docks were
still deadly. We had not even been able to send full-size units
into these warrens without taking heavy casualties. But weóand
theyóknew the end was only a few days away.
Tenedos summoned me to the tower late one afternoon.
'Tomorrow night we shall end this nightmare," he announced.
"Kutulu's agents have discovered that the last elements of the
Tovieti, their leaders and their most fanatical, plan a last stand,
taking down as many soldiers as they can, when we assault the
docks. I suppose they think such a blood sacrifice will bring Thak
to life."
"Why hasn't he already made an appearance? Surely the
massacre of his disciples can't be pleasing."
"Why shouldn't it be? He's but a demon, hardly capable of real
reasoning, at least not as we know it. I'd imagine that death, any
death, even those of his own people, gives him drink and meat. I
doubt if he'd feel any personal threat until the last of his believers
faces doom.
"Perhaps he's even abandoned this city and returned to the
Border States, or other places where he's worshiped. Not that I
plan on taking any chances.
"I cast some careful spells, and found that the Tovieti are still
using that smuggler's den you and Kutulu found as their
headquarters."
* "I can't believe that, sir," I said. "That's completely foolish. That
hideout was exposed. Wouldn't they find another?"
"I agree they're hardly showing much intelligence, at least from
our viewpoint. Perhaps they think Thak killed the intruders, or
perhaps that the invader was nothing but my animun-culi, under
sorcerous command. Or, just as likely, they're as arrogant about
our faults as the Rule of Ten were about them before the
murders started.
"At any rate, I'd like a raiding party made up from your regiment.
Perhaps some of those stalwarts who were with us on the retreat
from Sayana might wish to put a bit of adventure in their lives.
"No more than twenty men. And yes, I'll be accompanying the
raid, which is an absolute necessity, not adventurism, Domina.
"Let me show you why."
He took out a box, and opened it. Inside were the fragments of
shattered glass I'd seen a few nights earner.
"You remember how angry I was trying to get those idiots in the
Chare Brethren to work together and produce a single Great
Spell? Well, I ran out of time, although I still think it's a possibility.
Instead, I had glass bottles blown from a single vat of molten
glass, and given to each member of the brotherhood. I had each
of them cast a single, identical spell. When they'd succeeded, I
broke the bottles, then took a bit of this glass, which was the
results of the spell.
"I already had the Law of Association working for me, and I
created another spell, using the Law of Contagion, and overlaid a
third incantation on top of that."
"And the result is?"
"Damastes, I'm a bit ashamed of you. I shall not tell you, not out
of any desire to be mysterious, but out of personal pique that
you're not assembling the evidence your own eyes have
gathered.
"If you haven't figured it out by tomorrow night, then perhaps
you'll get a chance to see it being cast for real."
I had one final question: "What about Kutulu? Will he be coming
with us?"
"Why should he?" Tenedos said. "His work will begin after the
raid. Until then, there's no need to risk his abilities.
"Now, go prepare your troops. I've several other spells to
prepare for emergencies."
Of course there were more than twenty men from the Lancers
who wished to volunteeróthere were twice that many just from
the men of Cheetah Troop who'd recovered from their injuries
and sicknesses gained in the retreat from Kait and returned to
the regiment.
Every officer in the Lancers volunteered, and I'm afraid I made
the party rank-heavy, since I took Captain Yonge and Legate
Bikaner as well as myself. Captain Petre gave me a dark look
when I refused him, but I wanted at least one officer I knew well
to remain with the Lancers.
At dusk I kissed Maran good-bye, went upstairs to get Seer
Tenedos. I approved of his dress: dark, tight-fitting tunic and
pants, a matching watch cap, and boots that laced to midcalf. He
had a belt-pouch with magical supplies in it. Like the rest of us,
he was armed with a dagger as his primary weapon. He also
carried a shallow wooden box about two feet by one foot, closed
with a clasp. Fortunately, it weighed less than five pounds. I
assumed this contained the elements of this special spell he was
so proud of.
He'd also devised a plan on how we would reach the waterfront
undetected. It was a bit elaborate, involving a diversion from the
ring of soldiers sealing the docks off from the rest of the city and
using that excitement to mask our party's moving through the
lines.
"Have you already asked the army for the diversion?"
"I have. It'll be the Tenth Hussars, and I've given the dom-ina a
duplicate of this." He held up a hand, and showed me a rather
ugly brass ring. "When I rub it, he'll feel a tingling on his own ring,
and know it's time to begin his feint. We'll move forward from the
lines of the Humayan Foot."
"I think I have a better idea... although your idea of the
diversionary attack is good."
* "Go ahead," Tenedos said, with just a bit of frost, "I'm still
learning to be a tactician."
"Sir, I think you missed the easy way."
"Which is?"
I pointed, and he swore at himself. "Of course! I should have
seen it for myself. I'll summon a courier and tell the Humayan
Foot not to expect us."
I'd pointed to the Latane River, gleaming in the setting sun, and
had already procured five flat-bottomed boats whose sides
barely stuck up above the waterline. We loaded into them, untied
the moorings, and let the current take us into the heart of the
enemy. All of us were dressed in dark clothing, wore daggers on
our belts, and carried small packs with the other tools necessary
for our strike.
There was enough light so we were never in doubt of where we
were. I had the men stay low in the boats. When we neared the
Tovieti headquarters, I whispered to Tenedos to rub his ring. In a
few moments, I heard the screech of battle as the Hussars
launched the diversion, and we brought out oars, rowed to a
ramshackle pier, and moored our boats.
We made sure we hadn't been spotted, then went straight toward
the pier. The warehouses around us were fire-blackened, and I
could smell the stench of unburied bodies.
The Tovieti may have been foolish about not abandoning their
burrow, but at least they'd set human sentries out this time. There
were three, and I almost felt sympathy for the poor, untrained
fools. One actually whistled to himself in boredom, and the other
moved back and forth in a regular manner, and the third stood
close to the edge of the dock, staring fixedly across the river.
I touched sleevesóYonge... Karjan .. . Svalbardóand they went
forward, knives out. All I heard was one quiet splash as the third
sentry's body was dropped into the river. The other two corpses
were eased to the wood, and my three assassins were back
beside me.
We found the hole where the lever should be inserted. Tene-
dos held up a hand: Wait. He touched his temples, touched the
wood, and nodded. I should proceed. He'd sensed no magical
alarms. Once more I felt with the butt of my dagger, found the
socket and pried, and the hatch lifted noiselessly.
I still could not believe this wasn't a trap, but after a few seconds,
when nothing happened, I started toward the ramp. Tenedos
stopped me, and shook his head. He handed me his case, and
went down the ramp first. For a moment I thought this was mere
bravado, but then I realized, seeing him move so carefully, arms
spread in front of him like a drunk trying to keep the world steady
as he walks, that he was the right one to lead, the only one with a
counterspell to stop any waiting Tovi-eti sorcery.
He stopped twice, each time taking something from his pouch
and whispering a spell. The first time I saw nothing, but the
second time the darkness glowed purple for just an instant, or
perhaps it was an illusion.
The Tovieti masters had done a better job of guarding
themselves than before.
We moved down the tunnel, then saw light and heard voices.
There was no sentry at the mouth as before. Evidently the Tovieti
felt that magic was a more reliable guardian than steel. Tenedos
took the case, and I crawled forward a few feet until I could peer
into the chamber.
I counted seventeen men and women. They were gathered
around a sand-table they'd used to model the dockyard area,
talking in low tones, and pointing to various locations, obviously
laying out the final attack, completely lost in their work. There
were maps everywhere. If the seventeen had been in uniform,
male, and a bit less disheveled, it would have looked exactly like
any army planning session.
I slid back a few feet to my men, and held up a curled forefinger,
thumb atop it. Everything was as it should be. The men drew their
weapons. In one hand each of us had a knife, in the other a
canvas tube full of sand. We'd kill if we must, but had hoped we
wouldn't have toócorpses would be of no use.
We crowded together at the mouth of the tunnel. The men's *
eyes were on me. Breathe... breathe... breathe... my hand
dropped and we charged into the room!
The Tovieti turned, saw us. There was a scream or two, and then
we were on them, sandbags swinging. Only a few of them had
time to draw weapons, and they were either cut or clubbed down
before making more than a couple of wild slashes. Two women
ran for an exit. Accurately thrown sandbags dropped them.
Then there was no one left standing in the room except Lancers.
I saw only one of my men down, unconscious or dead; another in
trouble, on his knees, gasping for air where a chance kick had
winded him. A few others had minor wounds, swiftly bound by
their mates.
Scattered around us were the dead, unconscious, or wounded
bodies of seventeen Tovieti leaders. We'd been amazingly
successful, and so far I hadn't heard a hue and cry. But we had
made some noise, and could have only a few more lucky
moments.
The men were already taking precut lengths of rope from their
packs, binding the hands and feet and gagging the twelve Tovieti
who we thought would live. Of the others two were dead and the
other three unlikely to survive. That was as Tenedos had
ordered: Kill only if you have to. We wanted as many as possible
able to talk.
The raid was, thus far, outstandingly successful, more so as the
prone men groaned back to life and sat up. I was privately less
contentóI'd hoped the Kallian Malebranche would be among the
Tovieti, but he was absent. But then I saw the fat, bearded man
who was the Nician leader of the sect lying bound on the floor,
and next to him the Marchioness Fenelon, who glared hatred at
us all.
I thought Tenedos would be happy, but he was looking about,
worried. "Hurry," he said. "I sense something. Something
coming."
We needed no urging, and in seconds had the bound men and
women carried over-shoulder, and our own casualties were
assisted back up the tunnel.
Then the ground rumbled and shook, as it had before, and I
looked about, for signs of that fearsome mole-monster. I saw
nothing, but the ground rumbled harder, bricks groaned and
shrieked, and I heard the gush of water as the passageway was
torn open and river water began to pour into it.
We went up the ramp at a run, the roaring torrent just behind us,
and burst out into the night and safety, nothing behind us to show
signs of the smuggler's cave but a dark, swirling pool.
The ground kept shaking, the wooden dock creaking, about to
tear apart.
I looked downriver, toward the sea, and saw Thak!
I don't know where he'd hidden himselfóunderwater, in some
warehouse or burrow or perhaps there was a door into his world
somewhere out there.
On he came, clawed hands stretching for us, ready to crush,
ready to tear, as he had in my nightmare, and I heard that
screeching of unoiled metal and high shrilling I'd heard before in
the Tovieti cavern in the Border States.
Now he was not orange and sun colors, but darkness and
moonlight. Thak gathered enough light from the stars and sliver
of moon to send darting slashes of illumination across the water
and buildings as he crashed toward us. I heard cries of terror and
joy as men and women saw their god, their destroyer.
A few of my men, those who hadn't been in the cavern and seen
the demon before, were wavering, about to flee.
"Stand fast!" I shouted, and my shout brought them back into the
chains of discipline, and they dropped our captives and made
ready to fight, pinprick knives against a monster.
Tenedos was busy opening that case. Flashing bits of light
revealed those bits of glass, held somehow within the confines
of a smaller circle and triangle.
Tenedos took a fragment in each hand, and stood, holding his
arms toward Thak, who was now no more than a hundred yards
distant, his hellish keening louder in expectant triumph. Tenedos
began chanting, and his voice boomed across the river, louder
even than the demon's death song:
* "Little voices Little spells Spells that broke Spells that
smashed. You are an echo An echo of another Who in turn
Reflects another's voice. Now come Come together. Touch your
brother. Feel your brother. You are one You are mine Mine to
hold Mind to send. You are mine I fathered thee Now you must
obey.
"Ahela, Mahela, Lehander "I hold you I order you I send you.
Seek your target Seek your enemy. Seek it out As you were
taught. Strike now Strike hard Strike as one."
I don't quite know how to explain what I saw, but something rose
from that case, just as I belatedly understood what the spell was,
that each of those bits of glass had been the r
result of a shattering spell cast by one of the Chare Brethren,
combined by Tenedos as symbols to create one enormously
powerful incantation, which had smashed that marble statue ia its
test What I saw was barely visible, shimmering like heat above a
fire, but this had a form, a shape, a rough V. I saw it, then I saw it
not, but felt a wind rush, and barrels on the dock between us and
Thak were bowled aside as the spell rushed toward its target.
Thak must have seen or sensed doom rushing upon him, for he
reared back, holding up his hands in front of him. But the spell
struck true, the crystalline "singing" crashed into discordance, like
a million, million goblets crashing onto stone, and then it cut
suddenly, and Thak exploded, exploded like a huge stone that
had been cut by a master jeweler, examined and found flawed,
and smashed with a great hammer in a fit of rage.
There was a rain of fragments, fragments that vanished even as
they fell, and then Thak was gone.
"Now it is over," Tenedos said in the stillness.
TWENTY-TWO Civil War But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were
still Tovieti to hunt down and destroy. Once again, Elias Male-
branche had slipped away. Kutulu could find no traces of him in
Nicias. Tenedos shrugged. "He's fled to his last bolt-hole. He...
and his master... don't realize it, but their time has run out."
It was still cruel, still nastyóthe Tovieti who refused to vanish
fought as bitterly as any fanged beast does when tracked to its
lair. But we found them, and we killed them, although more
soldiers died in the process. In these final days, Tenedos's
hellhound Kutulu was given his own nickname by the
broadsheets: The Serpent Who Never Sleeps. The fear his
name brought was to grow and grow.
Nicias, a city half in ruins, was at peace once more. Now would
come retribution and blame. I privately expected the people of
the city to turn against the army and especially Seer Tenedos
after the brutal suppression. But they didn't. He was once more a
hero, a great man. I puzzled, but Maran, who I was learning was
far more perceptive than her age might suggest, said she wasn't
surprised. "The people did things they don't want to remember
doing, so whoever really did what happened, well, they're
someone else, someone different. All the seer did was destroy
those horrible, different people so the
common people can be happy again." I realized that yes, people
did think, or rather not think, like that So I merely shook my head
when the army was cheered every time it rode out, and once
again I was Damastes the Hero.
The Rule of Ten proclaimed a "time of healing," and no doubt
would have gotten on with rebuilding with never a finger-point of
blame, a convenient policy since they were far guiltier for the riots
than any Tovieti or Kallian. But Tenedos would have none of that.
He called for a tribunal, but the Rule of Ten quickly responded
that they'd have hearings on whether or not that should be
allowed Perhaps the matter might have ended there, but once
again the Rule of Ten's ineptness showed.
Nicias was starving to death, even though food was coming into
the city by the day in great barge-loads. The rice, the meat, the
fruit were being off-loaded into warehouses ... and there it sat.
Unless, of course, you had the right amount of gold. The rich, as
always, ate well.
Once more the city rumbled with disquiet. This time, Tenedos
didn't wait for the Rule of Ten to fumble with a response. No one
had rescinded his special orders, and so he sent out elements of
the Frontier divisions with orders to smash into the warehouses
and take the food. He set up distribution centers throughout the
city, manned by other soldiers, and the city ateófor free.
Tenedos was no longer a hero, but a demigod.
Nicias's profiteers whined loudly to the Rule of Ten, but they
were frightened to stand against Tenedos.
Again Tenedos called for the tribunal, and the Rule of Ten was
forced to give in. They took the opportunity to let him hopefully
hang himself, and named him head inquirer, supposing, I guess,
he'd muck up matters and show his incompetence. How they
imagined a man who'd spent as much time in public debate as he
had would ruin things was beyond me.
Their second weapon, calling for the tribunal to meet in camera,
was blunted; Tenedos announced the hearings would be held in
the city's greatest amphitheater. All would be welcome to come
and see, and judge for themselves.
* The Rule of Ten fumed but could do little. Their utter
incompetence was very clear nowóthey still hadn't been able to
name replacements, but buried themselves in bickering, with
Barthou determined to find acolytes even more toadying than the
ones slain in the riots. Scopas, according to Tenedos, tried to
stand up to Barthou, less, the seer thought, from patriotism than
from the desire to make sure his own powers weren't lessened.
But the date of the tribunal was set, less than a week distant. Two
things of interest happened during that time.
Mardn had returned to her home beside the river. One morning, I
received a note, asking if I could attend her at a certain hour.
Unusually, she asked me to leave my horse at the public stables
a block away, and come to the rear of the estate, where there
was a small back entrance. A servant would be waiting.
There was but one door in the huge blank expanse behind her
mansion. I tapped on it, and the door swung open. A rather plain-
faced woman I thought I'd seen serving tidbits at Maran's salon
told me to follow her. I saw, in front of the house, a long line of
freight wagons, and heard men shouting.
The woman led me in a circuitous path through the gardens of
the house, to a rear entrance, and through the kitchens. The
scullery workers and cooks were very busy, too busy about their
work to pay me the slightest mind. The woman bade me wait for
a moment, peered through a door, then said, "Hurry," and we
scurried across a bare corridor and up curving back stairs to the
solarium where Maran and I had danced to the secret music of
our hearts.
Maran was the only one in the room, and the woman bowed once
more and left. I started to embrace her, but something in the way
she was standing said I should not.
"Come here," she said. "Look down there."
I gazed down on that line of wagons, piled high with books,
tables, wardrobes, and other furniture. Teamsters busied
themselves packing the vehicles, and there was a man
supervising
them. It took a moment, for I'd met him but once, then I
recognized Maran's husband, Count Hernad Lavedan.
"He returned four days ago, and attempted to enter. I had my
servants drive him away, and ordered him to have all his
possessions out of here by this day or else I would have them
piled in the drive and burnt.
"The last is being loaded at this moment."
I saw that Lavedan was holding a small case in his hand, and
remembered the small ship model he'd been so proud of. He
handed it to one driver, who put it carefully on the floor of the
wagon. The other teamsters were climbing into the wagons, and I
faintly heard the cracking of whips. The wagons snaked out of the
driveway and drove away down the street.
Count Lavedan walked to his horse, stopped, and looked up at
the house. For a long moment he stared, and I fancied he could
see me. Ironically, I felt like flinching, even though I didn't fear
him. I suppose it was because I still felt it was his wife I was in
love with, and I was a trespasser. Then he mounted, and rode
off, not looking back.
Maran stared after him, until he turned a corner and was gone.
"Now I live alone," she said, her tone flat. I couldn't see her face,
but knew it held that strange expression of a puppy awaiting
punishment.
After a while, I said, carefully, "You don't have toóunless you
wish it."
She turned to me.
"Damastes, are you sure of what you are saying? If you move in
here, you'll be revealed as the cause of my husband's shame.
He knows I'm having an affairóhe told me soóbut I don't think
he knows with who yet.
"The Lavedans are a powerful family, and I know he'll go after
you with every device he can imagine, and try to destroy you and
your career.
"Am I worth that?" Her expression suggested she didn't think she
was.
I could have answered reasonably, saying I'd already * reached a
far greater rank than I had dreamed of and was content. I could
have said, after the acclaim the rabble showered on me, that I
doubted if the count, a man who had cut and run during the crisis,
would, at least for the near future, be a danger. Even later, what
could he do at the worst, but have me reduced to my former rank
of captain and sent to one of the Frontier regiments, my constant
dream? I could have answered logically, but, instead I said, "In a
soldier's words, fuck him and the horse he rode in on."
A tiny smile touched Maran's lips, then vanished. "You might
make another, more dangerous enemy," she went on. "I don't
know what my family will think of all thisó I sent a long letter to
Irrigon after I'd returned, not naming you, of course. I don't know
if it was received, and am about to compose another one, since
I've had no reply.
"I'm sure they'll feel the Agramdnte name is disgraced by my
behavior, and may well seek revenge on the evil cocksman who
brought me down. Are you prepared for that? I must add the
Agramontes are vastly more powerful than the Lavedans have
ever dreamed."
I made no answer, but took her hand, and led her to the side of
the room, where a thick rug lay. My eyes never left hers as my
fingers undressed her, very slowly. I removed my own clothes. I
kissed her lips gently, then bent farther and kissed her nipples.
Her breath tickled the back of my neck.
I laid her down gently on the rug, knelt over her, and she brought
her knees up and apart. I kissed her clitoris, and ran my tongue
into her. She shuddered, and her hands moved in my long hair as
it fell across her thighs. I moved upward, and my cock glided into
her, as if of its own will. We moved together, both of us with our
eyes open, slowly, the wave lifting us gently, then breaking and I
felt her throbbing around me.
"I guess," she said, after our breathing slowed, "that's an answer,
isn't it?"
It was more than an answer, it was the beginning of a pact.
We lay comfortably together.
"I'm having carpenters and painters in tomorrow," she said.
"There'll be no traces left of him when they're finished. Do you
wish to have anything to say about the redecorating?"
"How can I? This is your house, not mine."
"If you live here, my Damastes, it is ours."
I kissed her. "Very well. I have but one request. We should have
but a single bedroom. Make it this one, if you would, here where
we danced. I love the sun on our bodies."
"I was hoping for that," she whispered. "I never understood why
he never wanted to just sleep with me. To hold me. I didn't
understand that and... and some other things." She shuddered
and turned the subject slightly. "What of his office? What do you
wish done about that?"
"I don't care. Turn it into a nursery."
Her eyes widened in surprise, then she giggled. "La, sir, you do
presume."
"Do I?" I murmured, my cock suddenly rigid. I thrust hard, deep,
and she gasped and her hands pulled at my back. I lifted her
knees against my chest, and laid hard on her, my hands cupping
her buttocks as we crashed together, both of us shouting aloud
at the final moment.
The broadsheets may have been incompetent at reporting the
actual events of Numantia unless the Rule of Ten dictated it, but
they were most skilled at scandal.
I'd no sooner moved Lucan, Rabbit, and my few possessions
into Marfn's house ... our house, as I kept reminding myself,
without effect, being in fact the poorest as well as the youngest
of all Numantia's dominas, yet resident in a great mansion not of
my building, when our romance was trumpeted across the city.
Now all knew me as Damastes the Fair, Damastes the Seducer,
Damastes the Despoiler of Innocent Brides and Cuckolder of the
Rich.
I heard snickers in the large tent the Lancers' officers used for a
mess, which of course I could never acknowledge or challenge,
even if I wished to. I know not who talkedópossibly some sharp-
eyed soldiers from the Helms, more likely a servant or two who
wished some silver to add to his wages. I
didn't seek the scalawag out; everyone lusts after scandal, and
if it hadn't been leaked by one, it would have been by another.
Tenedos jested with me as well: "Damastes the Fair. Well,
Domina, you certainly are amassing a reputation once more. Now
the city's lovelies have testimony that you have two long swords
at your disposal."
All of the lonelies and fame-seekers who'd importuned me
before redoubled their efforts to woo me or at least have the
pleasure of spending an afternoon with me, and now their
suggestions and desires were most explicit.
"But don't they realize I'm happy with the woman I'm with?
Otherwise, why the scandal?"
"If they don't mind a bit on the side, as most of them seem to
suggest," Tenedos said, "why should you? You're just a man,
aren't you? Don't all of us spend most of our time trying to
fornicate with anything that moves?"
"I, sir, am no Nician."
"It's not a bad reputation to have," he said thoughtfully, although I
noticed that, as far as I knew, he remained faithful to Rasenna in
those days.
But that was not the second event of interest.
The demon was no larger than my thumb, and looked more like a
tiger-fanged seal with four arms than any conventional fiend. It
hissed when I came near.
"What is he?" I wondered.
"A useful little fiend," Tenedos said. "At the moment, he is about
to be a miner for gold."
"It looks like quite a task for him," I said skeptically.
"He'll seek but one coin," Tenedos said. "I'll use that to obtain
others. That is, if there's anything where I hope it to be." He bent
over the tiny creature and chanted:
"Hararch Felag Meelash M'rur."
The demon squeaked something in an equally incomprehensible
language and dove into the water.
Tenedos had asked if I could take an hour to witness something I
might find interesting, and bade me attend him at the dock where
the Tovieti hideout had been.
The wooden hatch still yawned wide, exposing a dark, oily
expanse of water that had filled the passage when Thak had
shaken the earth.
When I arrived, the demon had already been summoned, and
allowed outside his small pentagram. Beside that was a greater
figure, an eight-pointed star almost the size of a freight wagon,
with various-sized circles and symbols carved into the dock's
wooden timbers. An open trunk with Tenedos's paraphernalia
stood beside it, and, not far away, a squad of soldiers waited by
a large wagon with eight bullocks hitched to it.
I asked what the hells was going on, and Tenedos said, "I have
been considering our mutual embarrassment of wealth, my
friend. Even though we keep company with the nobility, and our
ladies are quite rich, neither you nor I has a pot to piss in nor a
window to pour it out of."
That was certainly true of myself, but I doubted Tenedos was as
poor.
"I propose to rectify this matter... I hope. Examine my logic, if you
will. The Tovieti were ... are a secret order, are they not?"
"Obvious."
"Have you ever heard of a secret order who didn't have vast
riches?"
"No... but I never saw any order's wealth, either. Of course, the
only such group I was ever around were the stran-glers, so I can't
generalize. But isn't anybody who's secretive rumored to be rich?
I remember an old hermit who lived in the hills behind one of my
father's farms. Everyone knew him to be fabulously wealthy, but
when he died all they found was a scrap of silk, two brass coins,
and a spoon."
"Ah, but we know the Tovieti amass wealth," Tenedos said.
* "We have heard how they are encouraged to loot their victims
and we saw great mounds of it in the cavern in Kait, did we not?
Well, no such trove has been uncovered from the Nician
stranglers, and I thought I'd take a few hours to show my greedy,
mercenary self."
I realized we were both babbling a little, neither of our eyes
leaving the surface of the murky water where the demon had
vanished.
"I propose to share any of my findings with you, Damastes, since
you were the first to discover this lair."
I was utterly astonished, and from the smile on Tenedos's face I
knew I'd had the reaction he'd expected.
"I... I thank you, sir. But you owe me nothing."
"I owe you what I choose to owe you, sir. And by the way, this is
in no way repayment of that debt, but rather my decision to
simplify life for the both of us."
I stammered something, more thanks, then, "Actually, Kutulu
found its entrance first," I managed. "Since you're being so
generous, shouldn't he be included while we're gleefully dividing
up all this so-far-invisible gold? He'd be welcome to half of my
probably nonexistent half."
"I asked him," Tenedos said, suddenly turning sober, "and he
said he had little use for money. I fear I know what he wants, and
it's something no one, not even myself, will be able to grant. Ah...
here's my sprite now."
The tiny monster surfaced, holding, clenched in its claw, a single
gold coin!
"Come up, come up, my little friend," Tenedos said, and the spirit
sprang from the water onto the wooden decking. Tenedos said
something in that tongue, and the demon answered.
"Very good, very good, so there's much, much more down there,
eh?" the wizard said. "Now, I am in your debt, which you may
require the repayment of at any time." He said more in the
demon's language, and it scuttled back into the pentan-gle,
turned, spun, my eyes ached, and the pentangle was empty.
Tenedos was turning the coin in his fingers.
"Interesting. It's not a Numantian coin, or anyway not one which
I've ever seen. Suddenly my conscience is lightened, because
I'd worried that perhaps we'd have to be honorable, and make
repayment to anyone who's heirs of the stranglers' victims.
"I could see the circular: 'Will the owner of a certain gold coin
please form a line at the Palace of the Rule of Ten?' Perhaps
this gold isn't even from Nician victims, but part of a general
hoard Thak amassed. I doubt if we'll ever know, nor shall I make
close inquiry.
"Now, we shall see what we shall see." He put the coin in the
center of the star, and paced back and forth, muttering.
"Woodruff for luck... pomegranateóprosperity... almond for the
gods' blessing... and the two real herbs, clover and basil."
He took vials from his chest, and sprinkled herbs into the four
braziers set around the star. He lit them, and fragrant fumes filled
the air. I noted, not for the first time, that the tiny amount of
spices used in a ceremony should not spread so widely, but they
always did. It was if I were in a pomegranate grove, with almond
trees nearby, and basil growing wild underfoot.
"This will be an interesting spell," Tenedos said, and began
chanting:
"Gather my friends Join your brother. You're of the sun. Rise now
Linger not. Your tomb is dark Your tomb is dank. Join your
brother As I touched him Let me touch you. Rise now Rise up.
The sun waits to caress you."
Nothing happened for some moments. "If I believed in the
possibility of resurrecting the dead," Tenedos commented, "I'd
worry about this spell working on the wrong matter. We did
leave some corpses down there when we departed so hastily,
and I imagine they would have fondled any riches. I'd hate to
have them shamble out of the slime down there. But it looks as
my spirit was either mistaken or mischievous, since nothingó"
Tenedos had spoken too soon, as the area above the star
shimmered, and men gold cascaded out of nowhere. There were
gems, gold bars, coins, statuettes. The pile grew and grew until it
was nearly the height of a man. I heard shouts of amazement
from the soldiers.
Tenedos stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"It would appear, my good Damastes," he said, "while we are tied
to one Wheel for the nature and length of our lives, we have just
freed ourselves from another, the Wheel of worry for our daily
bread." He grinned, and I saw a flash of what the boy named
Laish might have looked like before he chose to don the solemn
robes of a sorcerer. "We're rich!"
And so we were.
Tenedos betrayed me later in many ways, but I still must
remember this day. He could have called up the gold and kept it
and I would never have thought anything else should have been
done.
But he willingly chose to share it, and again I'm reminded the
seer was perhaps the most complex man ever to be given life by
Msu.
Nothing to match the tribunal had occurred in Nicias, at least not
within memory. For the first time the commoners were given a
glimpse of how their rulers thought and talked, and of the
decisions they made.
Tenedos ran the proceedings as if he were the judge, not
Barthou and the Rule of Ten. Aided by Kutulu's wardens, he
produced witness after witness, who described how the Tovi-
eti had slowly entered Nicias, slipping into each layer of society
as subtly as their stranglers slid the yellow silk cord around their
victims' necks, precisely laying their plans for the uprising.
I saw with disgust that most of the prisoners were in sad shape. It
was more than evident that Kutulu's interrogators had used more
than words in their interrogations. I liked it little, but force is the
custom with our wardens, which is foolish since a man under
torture will confess to anything to make the pain stop.
What was not the custom was that all of them had been tortured,
rich or poor. When the Marchioness Fenelon was put on the
stand, she began what was obviously a rote confession,
memorized at the coaching of her tormentors. She became more
and more emotional, and suddenly broke.
"Counselor Barthou! You cannot believe what they did to me,"
she shrieked. "I was treated as dirt by these pigs, these
wardens! Look what they did to me! Just look!" She held up
clawed hands, and I saw where her fingernails had been torn out.
"How could they do this? How could they?"
Barthou made no answer, but turned his head away, and two
wardens dragged her from the stand. She never reappeared, and
I am ignorant of her final fate. I made no inquiries, either, and it
was as if the woman had never existed. A trai-toress she was, but
did she deserve this end? I do not know, and am grateful I've
never sat the bench or had to apply anything other than the
crudest, most immediate justice, following the clean, sharp laws
of the military.
The tormented ones were not the most telling. That testimony
came from the bearded, fat man I'd seen in the smuggler's den,
who looked like a district grocer but was head of the entire
Tovieti organization in Nicias. His name turned out to be Cui
Garneau, as plain as his appearance. He told the inquirers
absolutely everything, freely volunteering the most damaging
information. He confessed to murder after murder, not only by
others, but by his own hand, and spoke of his pleasure in serving
Thak as he pulled taut the yellow silk cord. His
tales went on and on, and even the bloodthirsty writers for the
broadsheets sickened. It hadn't mattered to him; he told with
equal relish of strangling a newborn infant and a doddering,
senile beldam.
It appeared he'd undergone no torture, and I inquired of
Tenedos why he was so cooperative. Wasn't he aware he was
surely dooming himself, or didn't he care?
"No one has laid a finger on him," Tenedos verified. "In fact, he's
living in a cell more luxurious than these apartments, although it
matters not at all to him.
"You'll see this again, Damastes. He served one master
passionately, so that nothing else existed. When I destroyed that
master, Thak, his world was shattered. He turned for something
to cling to, and found me. Since I had power enough to annihilate
Thak, he now wishes to serve me. The best way he can do that is
to tell everything.
"The odd thing is that he may well live to a ripe old age. I myself
will vote to keep him alive, so future historians or even the
curious can visit him and find that this great conspiracy wasn't a
mad illusion, but something very real, very deadly.
"My only problem is turning his words away from an enemy who
no longer exists, Thak, to one that must be confronted. Chardin
Sher. I also wish he knew details of other Tovieti branches in
Numantia, but he claims ignorance, saying mat no one but Thak
knew that."
As a matter of fact, Tenedos was partially correct, but only
partially. When the trial was finished, Cui Garneau was sentenced
to death, but the sentence immediately commuted, one of only
four. But Garneau didn't live out the year. Walking outside the cell
he'd been assigned to, his guards' attention diverted for a
moment, three convicted murderers beat him to death with iron
clubs they'd concealed under their rags. There are some crimes,
and criminals, that even the most evil of men cannot tolerate, I
suppose.
Having heard Tenedos's strategy, I began attending the tribunal
more regularly, and little by little saw how he was leading all
testimony toward that arch villain, Chardin Sher.
The Rule of Ten squirmed, not wanting to have such information
known, fearing they'd actually be required to do something. But
their wishes didn't matter. Day by day the evidence was
presented: Malebranche attended such and so a meeting, gave
out a certain amount of gold, gave encouraging speeches, on
and on. Kutulu had ransacked Malebranche's apartments. The
Kallian had burned his correspondence before fleeing, but hadn't
bothered to crush or remove the ashes.
Seers cast spells, and little by little the ashes formed into burned
paper, then what the fire had taken from them was given back,
and they were as legible as the hour they'd been tossed into the
flames. Chardin Sher had been careful in his lettersóhe'd hardly
been fool enough to say, "I wish such and so number of people
to be murdered on this and that a date," or "If enough die in
Nicias the Rule of Ten will be forced to abdicate or call for a
strong man to take the throne," but his treacherous desires and
traitorous orders could be easily translated from the vague
phrases he used.
I was waiting for a protest to arrive from Kallio, or, more likely, an
outraged delegation. But none came. Instead, General Turbery
reported, in secret session, that the Kallians were calling up their
reserves and moving their armies toward the border. Units loyal
to Numantia were broken up, or disarmed and confined to
barracks. Those closest to the border managed to flee to safety,
but that was no more than two regiments of foot.
I could no longer spend time at the tribunal. I knew what must
come next, what my duties would be, unless something truly
outrageous happened and once more the Rule of Ten were able
to avoid responsibility.
The Rule of Ten writhed and squirmed, but Tenedos had the
hook truly sunk.
The tribunal came to an end. All of the Tovieti, save four, were
sentenced to die, and went to their fate within the week. That was
as grisly a sight as Numantia had ever knownómore than men
and women were hung on long gallows built to accommodate fifty
at a time, and special executioners hired to * work the drops.
Grisly, and awful, because the hangmen, often as not, were
ignorant and drunk. Instead of the quick drop and the dry snap of
a neck breaking, the Tovieti kicked and fought their way out of
their bodies and back to the Wheel, a slower death than they'd
given their victims. But it was much worse when the rope was too
long, or they were too heavy, so when the rope snapped taut their
heads were ripped away as bloodily as a farmer pulls a chicken's
head off.
When the thrashing had ended, the bodies were cut down, and
taken to long common graves. They were covered with oil, and
sorcerers cast fire spells so the bodies were utterly consumed,
not only so there'd be no martyr's relics for the few Tovieti
survivors, but also to keep the ashes, ropes, and such from
being used for black magic by other evil ones.
Tenedos called a special meeting of the Rule of Ten the day
after the last Tovieti died. Once more it was to be held in the
amphitheater.
Tenedos was the only speaker, and he spoke for almost four
hours. His speech was simple, and his point constantly
reiterated: A decision must be reached. Now, in this coliseum,
today. Today, or once more the wrath of the people might voice
itself. Kallio, and Chardin Sher, must be brought to justice.
At this the packed arena roared, and the Rule of Ten knew the
people had to drink blood that day. It would be theirsóor the
Kallians'.
They acceded, sending a special message by heliograph to the
Kallian capital of Polycittara. Chardin Sher was to surrender
himself to the nearest Numantian Army post to be immediately
conveyed to Nicias in chains, to answer for his terrible crimes.
There'd be but one answer.
Kutulu never appeared on the stand during the tribunal, nor was
his name mentioned. I encountered him in Tenedos's office,
sorting through yet another pile of files, and wondered why he
hadn't made an appearance.
"There was no need, Damastes my friend," and to tell the
truth his feeling of friendship for me was a bit upsetting. This was
the man who'd coldly, carefully, assembled files that sent several
thousand people to their deaths, either by drum patrol or tribunal,
yet appeared completely unchanged. But I supposed it was
better to have him thinking well of me than otherwise, although I
knew then if he ever thought I would break my still-unspoken oath
to Tenedos he'd hunt me down and see me punished as
callously as he'd seen to the butchery of the Tovieti.
"So what comes next?" I asked. "I can't see you returning to
being just another warden."
"I shan't," he agreed. "Seer Tenedos has already requested my
permanent reassignment to him, as one of his aides."
"But the rioting is over," I said. "What need does he have of a
private lawman?'
"The rioting is over," Kutulu said, and his voice lowered. "But the
greater task has only begun."
In spite of the summer heat, I felt a chill.
It was the custom of the rich of Nicias to lounge abed until
everything, from bath to breakfast, was prepared for them. Then
all that was necessary was to step out of the huge new bed and
walk about, accepting robe, bath, scrub brush, clothes, food from
servants who, Maran advised me, I was supposed to find
invisible.
"At all times?' I complained once when one of them had walked
in while I was taking a peaceful shit. I'd bellowed and chased her
outóI hadn't had to suffer my privacy being invaded like this
since I was a boy at the lycee or in the field on maneuvers.
"At all times," Maran said firmly. "It's one way we high-class sorts
separate ourselves from you common swine."
"Even when we're doing something like this?" I growled, then
rolled her over and bit her on the buttocks. She yelped and
matters were about to proceed from there when there was a
knock, and her personal maid entered.
She carried a tray, and there was an envelope on it. It was the
long-awaited, much-feared letter from Maran's father.
Maran huddled next to me, staring at it. "We'll never know what it
says until we open it," I told her. Reluctantly she ripped the seal
off and took out the four pages. Maran began reading, and her
eyes widened. I thought it was even worse than we'd prepared
ourselves for. She finished and handed it to me. "I do not
believe it," she said. I read it, and felt as she did.
I'd expected her father to write a scathing note, damning her for
her behavior and rubbing her face in her shame. Instead, the
letter was quite reasoned. He was sorry her marriage had come
to an end, but was not surprised. In fact, he was quite pleased.
He had never found the Count Lavedan to be truly worthy of the
nobility. He said the only reason he'd agreed to the matclióand
he apologized for not telling his youngest daughter this
beforeówas because of an old and large debt owed by the
Agramontes to the Lavedans.
' knew about that" Maran murmured, rereading the letter over my
shoulder. "Hernad boasted of it after we were married. He didn't
say what it was ... but I gather it involved something
embarrassing."
"That's pretty damned awful," I said. Maran shrugged. "The
nobility marries for other reasons than love as often as not. I
guess that's why so many of us take lovers. And why are you
surprised? Doesn't a peasant marry his daughter to a man who
owns a bullock so he's no longer forced to drag the plow
himself?"
The letter went on. Maran could do exactly as she wished: stay in
Nicias, even (hough her father thought that was far too
dangerous, even though the mob seemed to have been put in its
place by the army, or return home to Irrigon. He would have the
family's bankers contact her immediately, and ensure she had full
recourse to any gold she needed to properly maintain the
Agramonte image, should she decide to stay in the capital. He
said he knew she could well be depressed by events, so she
was not to worry about money. She could spend like a wastrel
until the day she died, and never cut into the Agramonte fortune.
r
The last lines really surprised me, coming from a man I
envisioned as the most reactionary of country lords, a man who
barely would admit to his own humanity, let alone anyone else's:
It's hard, my daughter, for an old man such as myself to say how
much he loves you, and has always loved you. You came as a
surprise in the autumn of my years, and perhaps I haven't
cherished you as I should.
You are the dearest in my heart, and I want you to know now,
when times are bad, that I stand completely behind you. Our
concern with the Lavedans has come to an end, and we shall
have no further dealings with the family. I have already sent
letters to our family's representatives in Nicias, with orders your
marriage is to be legally annulled as rapidly as possible, with the
minimum of notoriety. I don't care how or why things happened
as they did, nor whose fault it was, although in my heart I wish to
believe it was your former husband's. If any of the Lavedans
attempt to make a scandal of that matter, rest assured I shall deal
with them personally. I love you and will support you in everything
you wish to do, without censure, without blame.
Your father, Datus I put the letter down.
"So what do we do now?" Maran said, looking as shocked as if
the letter had disowned her.
"You can keep on being the rich Countess Agramdnte," I said.
"And I could go back to biting you on the butt," I offered.
She grinned.
"You could do that... or anything else that comes to mind," and
she laid back on the bed most invitingly.
I barely had time to spend every other night with Maran, being
busy getting the Lancers ready for the months to come.
I'd not, in fact, even been able to attend Seer Tenedos's great
speech in the amphitheater.
Troop Guide Karjan came to me and said he was fed up with
being a warrant. He wanted to return to just serving me.
I told him to get the hell out of my office, I was busy.
"Sir," he said, "I so'jered like you wanted in th' 'mergency. Now
there's no more riotin'. Everybody else is gettin' medals. Why
can't I have th' one thing I want?"
I said there was no way in the world a troop guide would be
permitted to be servant to a domina. I didn't think even generals
could have servants of that high a rank.
He looked thoughtful, saluted, and left.
That night he found one of the bars the Golden Helms drank in,
walked in, and announced none of them were fit to drink with a
real soldier. Ten men charged him, and he managed to beat up
six before they knocked him to the floor. The four survivors made
the mistake of turning their backs and ordering a celebratory
flagon of wine. Karjan rose up, seized a bench, and put all four of
them in the infirmary.
Then he proceeded to destroy the wineshop.
Five army provosts showed up, and he piled them up with the
shattered Helms, and two teams of wardens, four in each team
after that. He was settling into a definite rhythm when the
wineshop keeper's wife came up with a smile, a flask of wine ...
and a small club hidden behind her back.
Resignedly I paid Karjan's fine, took him out of prison, and, in
front of the assembled Lancers, tore away his rank slashes and
reduced him to horseman.
I don't think I'd seen a happier man in months. Karjan actually
smiled, revealing he had taken some damage in the battle
royalóthere were a couple of gaps where teeth had been.
I sighed, told him to assemble his gear and report to my house.
Once more I had a servant.
That night, at the mess, Legate Bikaner told me there'd been a
pool set as to how long Karjan would hold his rank slashes. It
wasn't the first time he'd been promoted, nor the
first time he'd calculatedly done something to make sure he was
reduced to the ranks.
"Anything higher than lance," Bikaner said, "and he gets upset."
"Who won the bet?"
"One of the new legates," Bikaner said. "It certainly wasn't me. I
had my money on one week after being promoted. Guess he
thinks a lot of you, sir."
"There," she said, slipping me out of her mouth. "Now we can go
to the next step." She was breathing almost as hard as I was.
"Why can't you just keep doing what you were doing?"
"Because we're going to do something new, and it's always you
showing me. Now it's my turn."
"Very well. What do I do? Before I get soft, I mean."
"You could drill holes in the wall with that thing," she said. She
straddled me, and guided me into her, gasping as I lifted my hips
and plunged farther into her body.
"Don't do that," she managed. "Now, sit up, and cross your legs
behind me. Put your arms around me, so I don't fall. If you start
laughing I swear I'll slay you."
Maran moved her legs around me until she sat as I was.
"Now what?" I wondered. "What do we do next?"
"We don't do anything, we just sit like this ... no, don't move,
dammit... and then we're supposed to come together."
"What is this, more of Amiel's sex-magic?"
"No," she said. "But it is from another book of hers I read once."
"Are you sure you took good notes? I mean, this is nice, but
nothing's happening. Have you ever tried this before?"
"Shut up. That's none of your business. Of course I haven't! Who
would I have to do it with, you bastard?
"You're supposed to concentrate. Pretend that all you are is
cock, is what the book said."
We sat together in silence. I honestly tried to obey her orders,
closing everything out of my mind, and feeling every ´ inch of
myself inside her. I honestly thought it was silly, but concentrated,
and then I could feel my cock's head, just touching her womb
opening, her inner lips curling around me, feel each inch of the
shaft where it touched wet folds, felt my balls against her outer
lips.
Maran gasped. "Don't move, I said!" 'Tm not! I didn't! Now you're
moving." "No I'm not," she said, "not down there." Now she was
panting, and her legs pulled tight against my back. "Oh, gods,"
she moaned. I vow I was perfectly still, but I could feel blood
roaring, and the world narrowed until all I knew was Maran's
breasts mashed against my chest, my tongue in her mouth and
her hot warmth pulling me deep into her and even that vanished
in this strange, sudden gift of the gods.
It took me a long while to come back, and I found myself lying
beside her. We were both drenched in sweat and I felt as
helpless as a newborn kitten.
"You can borrow that book again if you want. That was kind of...
interesting," I managed.
"Mmm," she mmmed, and we lay quietly, she pulling gently at the
still-sparse hairs on my chest. "Will there be war?" she said
suddenly. "That's a hell of a question at a time like this." "Will
there?" I sighed.
"Yes. I'm afraid so."
"Afraid? Don't lie to me, Damastes. I know you're a soldier, and I
know you'll go off to fight. That's what your life is, what it always
will be, I guess." "Yes."
"When you do," she said, "I hope I am carrying your baby." I felt
very proud, but very unsure as well. Before Mar&i I'd never
considered children, feeling that I'd most likely marry when I
retired from the service, if I lived that long, and would father the
appropriate number of descendants as my father and
grandfather had.
"I would love to have your son," she said.
K
"What's the matter with daughters?" "Nothing. Later. First a boy."
"And you said I was forward," I complained. An idea came. I
started to discard it as if not foolish, certainly sudden and
premature. But my mouth was obeying its own laws, and I said,
"But I can't see any of my children being bastards."
"Don't worry about that," Maran said. "No acknowledged child of
an Agramonte is a bastard." "That wasn't what I meant." "You
mean ..."
"I mean. Countess Maran Agramonte, would you consent to wed
a poor domina of cavalry who would do nothing more than adore
you for as long as Msu allows him foot on this earth? I love you,
you know."
There was a long silence, and I realized Maran was crying. I felt
monstrous, not knowing what I'd done wrong. "I'm sorry, my love.
I didn't mean to offend." "You didn't, oh, Damastes, you didn't.
You never can. But... did you know no one ever proposed to me?
It just sort of became a given sort of thing I'd marry.
"Isn't it funny? I can't remember anybody, except my mother and
maybe a nurse or two, saying they loved me, not ever. Hernad
never did. Then you say it to me, and then my father says it..."
She began crying again. I held her until the storm passed.
"You know," I said, "if it bothers you, I can withdraw the question.
I mean, it's probably mad to even think about something like that.
You've got all of the stuff to go through getting your marriage
annulled, and I've heard that nobody is supposed to marry on the
rebound, not for a while, at least,
andó"
"Shut up, Damastes. The answer is yes. Of course I'll marry you."
As she spoke, I was one with the gods, almost crying,
myself, in joy. She went on:
"You know it can't happen at once. No matter how skilled my
father's factors are, it'll take time for the annulment," she * said.
"Since I'm an Agramonte, the matter will have to go before the
Rule of Ten. I'm sorry."
"Don't," I said. "It'll give me a reason to fight hard, so I can come
back to you."
"Not too hard," she said. "Because you must come back."
"Oh, I shall, I shall." I may have been young and full of foolish
bravado, but I knew I'd come through the war unscathed, and I
don't know how I knew it.
"So we are engaged," she said. "We should do something to
celebrate."
"I know just the thing," I said.
"I know you do," she said throatily, lifting her legs around my
waist as I grew within her. "I know you do."
If I could have reached out and stopped time just then, I would
have, lying as we were, me still inside her, feeling the moisture of
love on our thighs. I wish now it had been possible; pain, sorrow
and betrayal would never have happened.
But I couldn't, and they did.
Three days later, the response came from Chardin Sher. The
special envoy returned, on a stretcher. His tongue had been torn
out.
Now it was civil war, and the declaration came within hours.
General Rechin Turbery, having experience fighting the Kallians,
chose to lead the campaign personally. The elite units brought to
Nicias would be sent against the Kallians, as well as all other
regiments who were able to be moved from their area of
responsibility.
This war would not be fought by bits and pieces, but as a mighty
sledgehammer. It wasn't quite civil war, but close enough so it
had to be settled quickly and harshly.
Everyone knew that our supposedly friendly neighbor, King
Bairan of Maisir, would be very concerned with the course of
events, and any weakness on the part of the Rule of Ten might
well spark interest about our vulnerability.
K
But the best came last. Seer Laish Tenedos was named to a new
post: sorcerer of the army. He would have as many staffers as he
wished, and was responsible only to General Turbery.
Now, finally, he would have the chance to develop his strategies
and tactics.
Now we might see a new kind of war.
It was a gray morning, not yet dawn, with cold mist blowing off the
river. Horseman Karjan had both Lucan and Rabbit packed and
ready. He politely sat his horse, looking away from the house as
Maran and I came out.
I kissed her, and never wanted the kiss to end.
I wondered if this was all history, a man kissing a woman good-
bye and going away to fight, and wondered why we so loved to
kill each other.
I put the thought aside and kissed her once again.
Again, I saw that look of a hurt animal, and turned away.
I walked to Lucan and stepped up into the saddle.
Margin watched me, her face utter misery, her hands clasped in
front of her.
I clucked to Lucan, and he moved off, Karjan behind us. I turned
as we went out the gate, onto the street, and watched her never-
moving form until it disappeared in the river mists.
And the war reached out and took me.
TWENTY-THREE Disaster at the Imru River m
eneral Turbery had requisitioned every available "T| craft to carry
us upriver to Cicognara, at the head of ^t_ -*´*"ï Latane River's
delta. There, the army would assemble and march east toward
the Kallian border.
I didn't see Tenedosóhe was on the flagship with the general,
but he told me later of his fumings at how terribly slow we moved.
I had little time to notice, because it took eight huge cattle lighters
to transport the Lancers, and I was constantly shuttling back and
forth between the ships with my new adjutant, Legate Bikaner, in
a small sailing boat helmed by a villain whose politest speech
reduced the most profane lance-major to respectful silence.
But once we disembarked at Cicognara, even I saw how glacial
was our progress. For three weeks there was nothing but
interminable staff meetings as to how we should move, in what
order, which regiment belonged to which division, and so forth,
further confused as more and more units trickled into the city.
Some of the snarl was understandable, since the Numantian
Army hadn't moved in such a mass for generations.
Eventually there were over , soldiers camped in and
around the city, everyone in awe at the size of the host. This
sounds laughable, since a few years later I'd be comfortable
personally commanding many times that number, just one part of
Emperor Tenedos's forces, but it's necessary to remember that
the army had fought in no wars, only border skirmishes and
internal disputes, for years.
The eventual order of battle was as follows: Each regiment, now
augmented to about , men, was grouped with four others to form
a division. Five divisions then formed a corps. These , men
formed a wing, of which there were three: Left, Center, and Right.
The thirteen elite regiments that'd been called to Nicias to
suppress the riots were built back up to strength, given additional
support elements, and used as either forward or screening
elements of these three wings.
On a blistering day, the second of the Tune of Heat, we set off
for Kallio, a long, multicolored snake curling along the road that
leads to the border. I'd been angered before by how slowly the
Khurram Light Infantry moved, but that pace was that of the
cheetah compared to mis cumbersome monster. I had learned
that a good soldier could carry all his possessions on his back or
on a packhorse. If that was true, I marched east with over , idiots.
I include myself, because Maran had had new uniforms designed
and made, and I hadn't had the heart to tell her no, nor to leave
them in Nicias. In fact, to be truthful, I rather admired them, with
their silk facings, their exact fit, their gold and silver embroidery.
I tried to rationalize this by thinking I'd provide better leadership
since I was so easy to mark, and that soldiers always wished
their leaders to stand out. But in fact, a previously unknown streak
of vanity showed itself. I'm not that ashamedóhas there ever
been a cavalryman without more than a trace of vainglory?
I couldn't maintain the silly rationale for long, not after Kar-jan
looked at my wardrobe, and asked, expressionlessly, where we'd
cage the peacocks we'd need for replacement feathers. So my
personal gear filled two handsome leather wardrobes,
* and I was by far the most conservative of the higher-ranking
officers.
Soldiers had cases, warrants had trunks, legates had cabinets,
dominas had private wagons, and generals had trains.
On the march I had something to keep me occupied other than
duty, since the Lancers ran of their own accord, like a perfect
clockwork mechanism, needing little attention. Maran had written
at least once, sometimes twice, a day, and I savored each letter
as it arrived, reading and rereading the small delights of peace.
There were pleasant surprises: Her husband would not contest
the annulment; she'd encountered surprisingly little rejection for
being a scarlet woman; and, best of all, her monthly time had not
occurred yet.
She was also surprisingly explicit about what she wished me to
do to her, when and where, in bed, standing, or in the bath, when
I came home. I rode around with a seemingly perpetual bulge in
my breeches, and wondered if I'd have to find a convenient bush
to shame myself behind before the campaign ended.
Two days into the march, when we could still see the not-terribly-
tall buildings of Cicognara in the distance, I saw a young, and
obviously rich, legate shaving. He had his own tent, a clever
folding table, desk, chairs, a personal cook with his own stove
making breakfast to one side, two servants attending him, and a
canvas bathtub beside. As he finished, a rather attractive young
woman came out of the tent, pulling on a silk robe.
He was not the only one to bring a mistress or wifeóone general
brought three. Since he was slightly older than Irisu, no one knew
what he did with one, let alone all of them.
Camp followers, ration wagons, sutlers' carts, bullocks for the
slaughterówe looked like a migrating nation, not a fighting force.
I found a new pastime as our horses plodded onward across the
countryside. Captain Petre and I returned to one of our old
amusementsódesigning the army we'd rather lead, rather fight
with. I even took to keeping a notebook with schemes we
thought particularly valuable. This is an odd thing for a domi-na
and a captain to waste their time doing, and is rather the pastime
of freshly commissioned legates. But it must be remembered I
was only twenty-three and Petre a year older, so our foolishness
can be understood. But considering what happened a few weeks
later, it turned out not to be foolish at all.
I encountered Tenedos when we'd made camp, a week after
we'd marched out of Cicognara and inquired as to how it was
going. He looked around to make sure we couldn't be overheard.
'It is not going at all, as you should know," he said. "No one, not
even General Turbery, seems to be aware that the Time of Heat
will not last forever, and we must be across the border into Kallio
and dealing with Chardin Sher before the monsoons begin.
Instead, we stroll along at our leisurely pace, stopping to pick a
flower here, investigate a byway thereó" he broke off.
"Damastes, is there anyone in your army who knows how to
fight?"
"Afy army, sir?"
"My apologies. I mean no slur. I'm fresh from a conference with
the general, and I seem to be speaking a different language than
he does." He sighed heavily. "I just hope things will come right
when they must.
"Oh. By the way, you may congratulate me. Turbery's given me
general's rank."
I blinked. "Well, my heartiest, sir. But... you turned that down
once before."
"That was before," Tenedos said. "And that was when I wished to
keep some remove between me and the army. Now I must not.
There is a time to watch, and then a time to swim with the
current."
I wasn't sure what he meant, but congratulated him, saluted, and
went back to the Lancers.
I told Mercia, Captain Petre, of my conversation. He made
sounds I knew I was supposed to take for laughter.
"The seer general is quite right, I think. But he's hardly
blameless."
"Why so?"
´ "Oh, you haven't heard? He's brought his lady along." And so it
was; not a day later I saw him riding with Rasen-na. I waved, and
they waved back. If it wouldn't have been a scandal, I almost
wished I'd brought Maran. But an army on the campaign isn't the
best place for gentlefolk unused to harshness, although the
manner in which we traveled was, indeed, more like rich, happy
wanderers on a vacation than hard soldiering.
Then the word came: Chardin Sher had crossed the border into
Dara! Now it was open war.
Scouts and magic discovered that his army was waiting for us, in
prepared positions along the Irmu River, not far from the small
Daran city of Entoto.
Four days later, we came on them. We were near the headwaters
of the Imru River, so it wasn't particularly wide, no more than thirty
yards. It runs south-southeast to eventually join the Latane. We
were moving across rolling, fairly open countryside, scattered
with groves of treesóopen country ideal for warfare.
Chardin Sher's army held an excellent position, a choke point that
we must pass through to reach the border between Kallio and
Dara. The road we'd been following ran down to a ford, and
across it was Chardin Sher's main force. Across the river to the
west reared a heavily forested mountain, the Assab Heights.
Downriver, past the ford, were Chardin Sher's reserves, and
beyond them to the east the river forked and passed through a
marsh.
_______t^^vIua, auu waiiea see what would happen next We
estimated Chardin Sher's forces at about , , surprisingly close to
the exact number revealed after me war. Outnumbered, they
made no move to attack, but waited for us.
I was surprised to see they'd prepared no fighting positions other
man shallow trenches near the river, since they planned to be on
the defensive.
I began to feel the fire build. This might well be a battle decided
by the cavalry, and I would be in the forefront
Mail reached us.
My darling, darling, darling I AM pregnant. A seer confirmed this
only today. I asked her what else she could see about the child,
as to its sex or its future, but she said nothing more came to her.
But this is for certain, my love.
This is beyond my happiest dream. I said I wished a boy, but if
it's a girl, that is also perfect. All that matters is that he or she is
yours, is ours.
I wonder which time it was that our love so pleased Irisu he let
our child-to-be leave the Wheel? Was it when we fucked on the
balcony, and you managed to break the glass table? Or was it...
But the rest doesn't matter.
So I was to be a father.
Now I hoped the campaign would be a very short one, or else I
might have an interesting wedding ceremony, with my firstborn as
ring-bearer.
Then it began to go wrong.
General Rechin Turbery called all regimental commanders with
their adjutants for a briefing one morning. We would attack on the
following day.
Such a major move required far more notice than the eighteen
hours he'd given us.
He'd made no consultation with his corps or division
commanders.
He'd sent no patrols to the far shore to make reconnaissance.
The size of the briefing guaranteed no one could ask anything
but the most obvious question, let alone raise objections.
The soldiers would be ready to move at midnight, and the attack
would begin at false dawn.
* Too long a time would pass between assembly and battle. The
army was completely unpracticed at moving, let alone fighting, at
night.
Each wing would attack frontally, crossing the river at once.
No soundings had been taken to see if the water was shallow
across our entire front.
The Right Wing was to swing right after it reached the far bank
and immobilize Chardin Sher's reserves to the east, near the
swamp, while the Center and Left Wings were to close Chardin
Sher's main force in a pincers.
The Numantian Army might have survived the other errors, but
this last was the worst:
"What was on the other side of the Assab Heights? I was about
to ask that question when the general laid the final stroke of the
whip.
The cavalry was to be withdrawn to the rear of the Center Wing
and take no part in the initial fighting. Once the Left and Center
Wings had broken Chardin Sher's main forceóthis was an
automatic assumption by Turberyówe would then charge across
the mm and settle the Kallians' hash for good, the so-called final
moment of battle.
I reddened in anger and disbelief. It might have been a good
idea to have a strong striking force ready to seize any
opportunity, but all the cavalry? I barely knew the names of the
other regimental commanders. That we were supposed to fight
together as a team without plans, order of battle, rehearsal,
without field exercises, was utterly absurd. If General Turbery
had planned on using us in this manner, he should have had us
practicing in Cicognara and on the march east, rather than letting
us skylark about with no purpose. Turbery's plan would also leave
the army without screening riders, flank security, or frontal
scoutsóin short, completely blind in its attack I glanced at
Bikaner, and he was as aghast as I. General Turbery went on to
describe what was to be done with Chardin Sher when we
captured him, although he'd not said anyone knew he was
actually with the Kallians across the
river, then closed with some inspiring remark about how
Numantia would now prove its iron, its strength as a great nation. I
was too angry to hear him.
I headed straight for Seer Tenedos's tent, which was not far from
Turbery's headquarters. It was large, divided into two sections,
one for an office, the other for the seer's bedchamber. I saw no
sign of Rasenna. I started telling Tenedos what idiocy I'd just
listened to and he held up his hand, stopping me.
"Did you notice I wasn't present?" Of course I had, but idiotically
had assigned no importance to it "The general informed me of
his intentions last night I objected strongly, as strongly as I could,
but he insisted he knew better, so I refused to honor the farce
with my presence. "I'll tell you two things that you must not repeat
to anyone, not even your adjutant, that will make you even angrier,
and this is why I refused to take part in the briefing, because I
know we face potential disaster.
"First is that there is great magic swirling around this place, magic
such as I've never heard of before, never encountered." "No one
has told me anything about the Kallians having a great sorcerer,"
I said. "But considering the disregard the army still holds magic
in, that means nothing. Can you detect who's casting these
spells?"
"That's the unusual aspect, for I detect no single... signature
might be the word, the sign that one man or woman is working
these incantations. I almost fear Chardin Sher has a magician
who's perfected a Great Spell, somehow getting others to work
together with him.
"But I can't believe that. I'm prideful enough to think if I couldn't
produce anything cohesive from those master magicians,
arrogant fools that they are, of the Chare Brethren, no one else,
using other wizards, can either." "What's the other problem?' I
asked. "I brought half a dozen magicians with me, and we've
been trying to cast searching spells across the river, since
General * Turbery has refused to send scouts out, fearing to lose
the element of surprise.
"All of our efforts have been turned back, as if we were but tin
swords lunging at steel plates.
"This worries me more than the first."
"Is there anything that can be done?"
"Very little. Probably nothing. Try prayeróand not to Saionji. We
do not need to encourage the Bringer of Chaos to even notice us
on the morrow. Return to your regiment, and be very wary of the
way you fight on the morrow. If you cross the river, be prepared
for surprise. I'm going to try yet again to penetrate this veil of
darkness, to see what Chardin Sher is up to."
"One question, sir. Have you, or any of your seers, been able to
ascertain whether Chardin Sher is over there in person?'
"We tried, and were rebuffed. I tried another method, and sent a
searching spell across the country, aimed toward Polycittara. I
detected no sign of the prime minister, but that isn't certain. My
spell could have failed, or he could be in yet another location, or
have wards up to prevent my locating him.
"But I can tell you I feel his presence. I would wager, with nothing
more than that feeling, that he is, indeed, over there, waiting to
preside over our destruction."
"Sir," I said. "I mean no disrespect to our commander, but I
thought General Turbery had experience; I thought he'd fought
the Kallians."
"He has, Damastes. But with how many men? A regiment,
perhaps two, against small probes by a company or two of their
forces, bom sides breaking off when real blood began to be
shed, since neither side wished to acknowledge real enmity. I'm
afraid General Turbery's reach has far exceeded his grasp.
"There might also be another problem: It's not uncommon for a
man to achieve greatness so long as he isn't the final rung on the
ladder. As long as General Turbery could fall back on a superior,
such as General Protogenes, all was well and good.
"But now he stands alone, and will be judged."
No longer angry, but worried, I hurried back to the Lancers.
The various units were supposed to wait until dark to begin
movement, and the Lancers obeyed orders. Others didn'tóI saw
dust clouds swirl as various foot units began, literally, stealing the
march, dust clouds visible across the river to warn Chardin Sher
something was in the offing.
Finally, the Lancers began moving, and if the morrow were not
looming close, it might have been funny. Columns got lost,
troops ended up riding with other regiments, men fell off their
horses, men rode into tents, men rode into wagons, men rode
into latrines ... the list of mishaps was as various as the numbers
of swearing cavalrymen wallowing around in the night.
But eventually we found a location approximately where we were
to be, and waited for battle.
At false dawn, the havoc began.
The Battle of Imru River is correctly taught as one of the finest,
least subtle, most complete catastrophes of war known. It should
have been a great victoryówe outnumbered the foe nearly two to
one, it was a calm day, the heavy clouds overhead were
unthreatening, and both sides could see each other perfectly.
Most combats, once joined, are a confusion of blood and
screaming, where no one knows quite what's going on, and
frequently the victor isn't sure he's won until the next day. Imru
River was different. Since my role, until the end, was to sit fuming
helplessly on a ridge, waiting for the grand opportunity that never
happened, I can tell precisely and briefly of the disaster.
Just at false dawn, trumpets sounded, and the three Numantian
wings marched toward the river. General Hern led the Left Wing,
General Odoacer the Right, with General Turbery taking personal
command of the Center.
They marched straight into the river, in closed battle order, and
the floundering began. The water at the ford was a bit deeper
than anyone had thought, and men struggled and
yelled, the river's swift current catching their shields and
sending them stumbling. General Turbery and the other high-
rankers, on horseback, had noticed nothing.
In the Center, confusion began.
General Odoacer, on the right, was perhaps more eager than the
others for his share of glory, and so he'd moved forward a bit
faster than the other two elements.
Our right flank was therefore exposed.
On the left it was a debacle. The shallows did not extend that far
west, and the river deepened to more than eight feet a few paces
from the bank. Men toppled into water over their heads, flailed
about, trying to swim in armor, and began drowning. The
implacable press of the formation forced other men after them,
and the water became a seething mass of helpless soldiery.
On the other bank, the Kallian forces rose out of their shallow
pits, and a single man rode out in front of themóChardin Sher,
magnificent in silver armor astride a chestnut stallion, his
standard-bearers behind him.
General Turbery was evidently not aware of the problems of the
Left Wing, and, as he saw his foe in plain sight, he called for a
charge, and the Center crashed forward, out of the water onto dry
land.
Without even waiting until they were within arrow range, the
Kallians began falling back. Perhaps Turbery thought they had
panicked, seeing the determined Numantians come at them. But
he should have known better, for they retired in an orderly
manner, marching backward, line on line. The Numantian Center
shouted exulting war cries and broke into a run, sucked even
farther into the trap, for of course that's precisely what it was.
Our Right Wing was having a bit of trouble, the river being wider
where they were crossing.
At this moment, Chardin Sher struck.
His sorcerers brought up a wall of water, like a sudden neap tide,
and sent it rushing down on us from the west. It was no more
than two feet high, but that was more than enough. It
caught the men of the Left Wing and swept them along, but there
were only a few ranks to be sent tumbling downriver.
It took the Right Wing in midcrossing, smashing into it as hard,
and lethally, as if it'd been a blacksmith's sledge.
Kallian horns screamed, and Chardin Sher's center turned back
and attacked, archers to either side volleying arrows into the
massed Numantian Center.
General Turbery was killed in that first volley, and I saw, from my
vantage point, the Numantian colors go down. The Center took
the shock of the first wave, then stumbled back a bit.
Chardin Sher's forces must have rehearsed this battle over and
over. Isa knows they'd had time enough, having held the ground
for long days before our dilatory arrival. The Kallian Left Wing
split its forces, sending half in against the Numantian Center, the
other half across the river, on a hidden ford, to our side of the
bank and striking against our Right Wing.
Then came the deathstroke. From their positions, which had
been masked by sorcery and the Assab Heights, ran the rest of
Chardin Sher's army. They were mostly cavalry or light infantry,
and drove directly into the open flank of the Center Wing.
The battleground became swirling chaos, man fighting man, man
killing man, no more tactics, no more grand design, just bloody
slaughter.
I saw Numantian flags go down, and small knots of soldiers I
knew to be ours make a last stand, then disappear, overrun by
waves of Kallians.
I heard a cavalry general shouting, to whom I don't know,
perhaps the god of war, for someone to unleash us.
But there was no one to give the command.
General Turbery was dead. General Odoacer was dead. General
Hern was pinned under his fallen horse and had a broken leg.
Three other generals died that day, ten dominas, and who knows
how many lesser-ranking officers.
The Numantian Center Wing was obliterated, the Left mired in
confusion, and the Right cut to ribbons. Chardin * Sher's forces
reformed, and rolled toward the river, an indestructible force bent
on our total destruction.
I sat on Lucan seeing this nightmare, the worst defeat
imaginable, and something broke within me.
There were other dominas with the cavalry far senior to me, and
two generals. But no one did anything.
I knew I must.
'Trumpeter," I shouted, "sound the advance!"
The horns blared, at first raggedly, surprised, but then strong,
and the Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers, as they'd been taught,
went down the hill at the walk to battle.
Shouts of surprise, possibly countermanding my orders, came
from behind, around us, but I cared not. If other regiments joined
us, well and good. But I could not see my country destroyed on
this unknown ground by some dead fool's mistakes.
Maran, my child, my own life, all were swept away.
I heard other trumpets, glanced behind me, and saw other
regiments, shamed by our action, start forward. Then they were
all moving, perhaps , men, against five times their number.
Thunder rolled then, and a man walked down the slope in front of
us, toward the water, toward the ford.
It was the Seer Tenedos, in half-armor, but without his helmet.
His voice was the thunder, and the thunder was his voice. I could
not make out his words as the spell rolled and crashed from the
hills around us.
Raindrops pattered, and I saw the clouds had suddenly changed,
now dark, threatening as his ringing words took effect.
Archers came from nowhere, and war-shafts arched over the
Imru. landing among the oncoming Kallians, and then the storm
broke, a roaring cataclysm, so no one could see more than a few
yards ahead of him.
The rain lessened for a second, and I saw the Kallians, still
hesitating at the ford's far beginnings, seeing the Imru swirl up
V,
in flood, afraid to chance being stranded, and then the storm
pulled a curtain across my view.
Men cannot, will not, fight when they cannot see, when their
leaders cannot see beyond their horses' ears, and so the battle
was over.
I would be permitted to live the day, and not to have to make the
sacrifice I'd offered Isa and Numantia.
Sanity came back, and I remembered Mar£n, and breathed a
prayer of thanks to my wise monkey god Vachan and my own
godling Tanis. But the field was littered with more than ,
Numantian casualties.
The rain-roar slowed, and I could see across the Imru again, see
the Kallians pulling back.
Tenedos still stood where I'd seen him last, but now his arms
were at his sides. He tottered then, and fell, and I kicked Lucan
into a trot through the mire, desperately afraid the seer had been
hit.
I dismounted and ran to him, where he lay facedown. I turned him
over, and his eyes came open.
"Damastes," he said. "Did the spell break them?" "Yessir.
They're pulling back."
"Good. Good. Took... took everything I had. You'll have to ... help
me up."
I lifted him, half-carried him to Lucan, and helped him into the
saddle.
I led Lucan away, toward Tenedos's tent, the sorcerer swaying in
the saddle, barely able to stay mounted. Karjan rode out of the
murk, and caught Tenedos, not letting him fall.
I suddenly realized it was late afternoon, and growing dark.
Somehow the day had gone without the hours being noticed.
Now there was nothing but the driving storm, the cries and moans
of dying men and horses, and the bitter taste of utter defeat.
TWENTY-FOUR The Birth of an Army When we reached
Tenedos's tent, a sobbing Rasenna helped me get the wizard
inside. He told her to get a certain vial from a chest and
shuddered the contents down.
I could see the mixture hit, see the gray pallor pass from his
cheeks, see him straighten, see strength pour into his system.
"I shall pay for taking this," he said. "Nothing is for free, and these
herbs call up my innermost energy, leaving no reserves. But
there is no choice.
"Damastes, collect as much of your regiment as you can. I want
them as messengers. Go to all the dominas and higher you can
find, or whoever's left in charge of a formation, regardless of
rank, and order them to report to the command tent as soon as
possible."
"That'll take a while, sir, with the rain."
"The spell should break within the hour," he said, "and there'll be
a quarter-moon to guide your riders."
"Can I tell them what the purpose of the meeting is?"
"Yes. Tell them General-Seer Laish Tenedos is taking command
of the army, and will issue appropriate orders at this time. Failure
to attend will be dealt with as disobedience of a direct order."
I saluted and turned away.
"One more thing. Send a small party to the river, and try to find
out what the Kallians are doing, if you would."
I took approximate bearings, by guess and by Isa, where the
Lancers might be, and started in that direction. So Tenedos was
taking over the army, without orders or authority. But what of it?
Someone must. As far as I knew then, there were no other
generals on the fieklóGeneral Hern still hadn't been found. Also,
I'd learned that in an emergency the man who appears calmest,
who can issue sensible orders, is most likely the man to obey.
I found elements of Cheetah Troop in about half an hour, and
they helped me grope my way to the rest of the regiment. As I
finished passing along Tenedos's orders, as Tenedos predicted,
the storm cleared.
I found Legate Yonge, and, with five of the men of Sambar
Troop, we rode cautiously down to the Imru, past the crawling
bodies of the wounded, past the corpses, trying to ignore the
pleas for help or even a merciful blade between the ribs.
I was waiting to be ambushed. Chardin Sher should have pushed
pickets across the flood to keep in touch with our forces. But we
encountered no one except Numantians. The moon was bright
enough to see the far bank, and the raging waters of the storm-
flushed Imru. All was quiet, and there was no sign of Me nor of
fires from an enemy camp.
Chardin Sher must have retreated, which in fact he had. Perhaps
he'd not expected such a grand victory and frightened himself;
perhaps he had made no plans beyond that day; or possibly he
had no intent of taking the kingdom he so desired by the sword,
but only by its threat, and now hoped the Rule of Ten would
announce his majesty by proclamation. I do not know, but I do
know better than to theorize about those who wish to sit a throne.
In fact, we found days later, when the river subsided and we were
able to slip spies and small patrols across, that the Kallians had
retreated all the way back to their own borders, where they began
building strong defensive positions.
* But that came later. The first task was to recover from the
debacle of the battle.
Eventually the command tent was surrounded by exhausted,
sometimes bleeding commanders. I was shockedósome
formations were evidently led by legates and sergeants, since I
saw many of those ranks shivering in the night.
Seer Tenedos mounted to the back of a wagon. His voice
carried to us all, his magic drawing even more of his vital energy:
"I am General Tenedos," he said. "I have taken command of this
army. We were beaten today, beaten hard. But there is always
tomorrow.
"We shall not be attacked again, not this night, nor in the next few
days. The Kallians have withdrawn in triumph.
"They shall me their arrogance, rue that they did not finish us to
the man.
"I promise you bitter revenge shall be taken for this defeat.
Numantia has just begun its battle.
"Here are my orders. Return to your formations. Wait until
sunrise. Then look about you. There are wounded men, there are
lost men, to help.
"There are a few who wish to shirk further duty. Tell them to
return to their formations or face punishment.
"All those fancy wagons we brought, carrying our luxuries? They'll
carry our wounded.
"Strip them of the fripperies, and share those items among us all,
a private having the same rights as the general who owned them
before.
"There is to be no drunkenness, I warn you. If you cannot keep
your men's hands from the wine bottle, smash it in front of them. I
order that any man found drunk be given twenty lashes across a
wagon wheel. Any officer will be given twice that and reduced to
the ranks. Now is the time to pull together, not fall apart.
"When we are assembled, as an army, not a rabble, we shall fall
back on Entoto.
"There, we shall build a new, greater army, an army that will
destroy Chardin Sher's pretensions.
"And we shall build it this year, this season. I promise you, we
shall be in the field once more, before the Time of Storms."
That sent a shock through us all, that Time being only a third of a
year away, and I knew it would take a year, possibly two, to
rebuild our forces.
"Now, go back to your units. You are given license to punish
doom-criers, deserters, and the lazy as harshly as your units'
policies permit. No one shall be judged for having obeyed my
command to the fullest extent of the law.
"That is all. All of us shall leave this field... or none."
There was no cheering; none of us had the energy, nor could we
feel any cause to rejoice. But the steel in Tenedos's words had
struck common metal in most of us.
As bad as I dreamed the field would look, at dawn it was worse.
But we'd gotten some momentum, and we were cleaning up and
reforming. The hardest task for me was putting together a detail
to kill the wounded, still-screaming horses, and I dreamed of a
day when war could be fought with magically impervious mounts.
Man might have a right to bring blood to his arguments, but he
has none to slaughter the innocent beasts of the field in his
disputes.
By morning of the next day we marched away from the blood-
soaked Imru River. Behind us, a great funeral pyre sent flames
and greasy smoke boiling to the gods, while black kites circled
overhead, screaming disappointment at being denied their
carrion reward.
The army swamped Entoto, taking over every public building for
hospitals and quarters and sheltering healthy men among the
population. Tenedos sent couriers to the river, to Cicognara, with
a full report, and orders that the army needed all things
immediately, from bandages to food to tents to replacements.
He cobbled together a unit of signalers, and ordered them to
build a heliograph line from Entoto to Cicognara, where it would
tie into the main system that led downriver to Nicias.
The first to arrive from Nicias was what we needed least:
f> The Tauler churned up to Cicognara and unloaded Barthou,
speaker for the Rule of Ten; Scopas, the only surviving member
of the Rule of Ten who'd been occasionally on Tenedos's side;
and a cadaverous-looking individual named Tlmgad, one of the
new electees to the Rule of Ten. There was another man with
them, a balding, pompous-looking sort wearing the sash of a
general. He was named Indore, and was the Rule of Ten's hand-
picked successor to General Turbery. I knew him not, but asked
around, and learned he had an enviable reputation for always
having been at the correct spot, politically, at the correct time. His
only field experience was on various staffs, where he'd made
sure never to contradict his superior, fail to praise him for his
genius, and try to take over his position as rapidly as possible.
"Indore is his name and Indoors is where he made it," was the
bitter joke that went around.
The army, still wounded, still in shock, shuddered at what they
knew was coming: The Rule of Ten would have some sort of
plan, almost surely guaranteed to get us killed, and Indore would
be the general to carry it out.
I was not present when the Rule of Ten representatives met with
Tenedos, of course, nor was there any record made. But twice
over the years Tenedos reminisced about the old days, and told
me what had happened. Both times his accounts were precise,
so I accept them as the truth, even if the tale is self-serving.
Barthou began by congratulating the seer on how brilliantly he'd
served, helping the army retreat, although of course he
suspected if General Turbery hadn't gone down "on the field of
valor," he would have mounted a counterattack. Tenedos told me
he refrained from asking "With what?" and listened, keeping a
carefully polite, but blank, countenance.
Barthou had turned into a saber-rattler. Chardin Sher must be
destroyed immediately. He didn't see why the army couldn't be
reconstituted from surviving men, combining units to produce
one single full-strength force. In fact, he was surprised that Seer
Tenedos's report had been so gloomyówhy, riding from
Cicognara to this headquarters, he'd been amazed at how hale
and hearty (he soldiers were.
"I would think we could march out against that traitor tomorrow."
One half hour, and Barthou knew the army better than it knew
itself.
Barthou went on to say the Rule of Ten had unanimously voted a
title to Tenedos, and wished that he would stay on to assist
General Indore until he had "the reins fully in his hands." Then,
Barthou went on, no doubt there'd be other ways Tenedos could
serve Numantia.
Barthou was about to slide into a smooth commending speech
that was actually an eulogy for the wizard when Tenedos stood.
"Stop," he said calmly. Barthou gaped, a man not used to being
told to shut up.
"You say the Rule of Ten voted unanimously to appoint the good
general. Is that true, Scopas?"
The fat man shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he said. "Not on
the first ballot, but eventually."
"I see." He turned his attention to Barthou.
"Speaker, the answer is no." Now the politician was completely
stunned.
"Nóno? No to what?"
"No to you, no to your lapdog general, no to the Rule of Ten.
There are no witnesses to this conversation, but you may walk
out of this tent, and ask any of the men your stupidity sent against
Chardin Sher. Ask them if they will follow me... or if they wish to
follow you, or whoever you name to caper at your command."
"This is treason, sir!"
"Perhaps it is," Tenedos said, his voice rising. "If so, it is more
than overdue. Let me tell you what shall happen. All of you,
including this sorry excuse for a leader, are going to leave this
tent, smiling politely, and we are going to walk to a convocation of
officers I called when I heard you were on the outskirts of the
city.
"You are going to name me as general of the army, and you are
going to say the Rule of Ten has full confidence in my abil-
* ities to destroy Chardin Sher, end this civil war, and bring peace
to Numantia."
"And if I don't?" Barthou said, his chin bulging red in anger.
"If you don't, I doubt if the army will permit you to leave Entoto
alive," Tenedos said. "But I am willing to take my chances that
I'm right. Are you? If you are, get on that platform and repeat
what you told me.
"Are you so stupid you believe those riots we suffered through
recently were completely brought about by the stran-glers or by
Chardin Sher?
"You did as much to create it with your stumbling excuse for
ruling, you and the rest of the Rule of Ten.
"You created the morass, you ordered the army to march into it,
and now you are trying to step on its fingers as it tries to claw its
way out.
"No, sir. The army will not obey your command. "I give you one
turning of the glass to consider your choices. One choice could
well mean an open revolt by the masses, and if there is one, the
army will turn away from Chardin Sher, content to deal with him
another time, to confront their real enemy who repeatedly stabs
the only hope Numantia has in the back.
"That is your first choice.
"Your second is to do as I ordered. Then you can return to Nicias
holding the power you arrived with, and be certain the Kallian
shall be brought down and crushed in the dust. But you cannot
make this choice and then renounce it once you reach safety. In
Nicias, you will, you must, satisfy each and every demand I shall
have for the army's rebuilding. I want that very clear in your
minds.
"Consider your choices well, gentlemen. Your very lives may
depend on it."
He set a small half-hour glass on the desk in front of him and
stalked out.
Tenedos swore he had no magical eavesdropping devices in the
tent, and I must believe him, but I would give a fair amount
of gold to know what happened among those four men while the
sands trickled.
Tenedos said there were angry shouts, and once or twice one or
another of the Rule of Ten stormed out, only to be called back
before he could get ten feet. Time ran out, and Tenedos
returned. "I knew I held victory when I saw their faces. Scopas
looked worried, but a little confident, sure that he had chosen
right, and power would not be taken from him. Barthou and that
other corpse-looking fellow, Timgad, well, they were like
schoolboys who've been whipped and told by the master they
must confess to stealing apples to the entire lycee, pouting,
sulky-faced."
"What of that general, Indore?"
"Why, being what he was, he had the same politely interested
expression as he did when he walked into the tent. That man
could murder his parents and then ask mercy of the judge for
being an orphan!"
Two hours after that, Speaker Barthou, flanked by his two fellows,
Indore having conveniently absented himself, climbed to the
platform and, holding out their hands to quell the cheers, named
Seer Laish Tenedos general of the armies of Numantia.
That done, they fled to their carriage and drove it out of the city
as if demons were after them, never pausing until they reached
"safety" in the palace in Nicias. Now the real work would
commence.
All Numantia responded to the shock and shame of the defeat,
and supplies, money, weapons, and recruits poured across the
country, on foot, on horseback, by boat.
The recruiters we sent out had to turn men, and even a few
hopeful women, away, some of them in tears.
Numantia had scented chaos in the riots, and feared the biggest
monster of civil war still more.
Chardin Sher must be stopped.
* Tenedos called a meeting of all senior officers.
"This shall be very short, gentlemen. I intend to make changes in
this army, changes that shall turn it into a modern, sophisticated
fighting force.
"There shall be no more Imru Rivers, not as long as I lead you.
"Obey me, and you'll find glory and riches. Disobey or hesitate,
and I'll break you like sticks."
His gaze swept the room, and men looked down or away.
One man waved his cane enthusiastically. It was General Hem,
sitting most uncomfortably in his plastered leg. "Sir, let me be the
first to say I'll gladly march under your orders. I'm damned if I
was comfortable following that garrison soldier Turbery. You
lead, sir, and I'll follow. If this damned leg won't let me sit a horse
I'll ride in a cart like a milkmaid!" There was a bit of
laughteróHern was highly thought of, and would certainly keep
command of the Left Wing.
Tenedos's eyes continued sweeping the room. One man not
only met his gaze, but stood, his pose defiant It was that brawling
swordsman, Domina Myrus Le Balafre, commander of the Varan
Guards.
"I mean no offense," he said, meaning offense and waiting for a
moment before adding the obligatory "sir," "but I follow those
who can lead me.
"Even though you did well after the Imru, you're still a wizard, a
politician, I've heard, a man who makes great speeches.
"Well, shit on speeches and those who make 'em! We're always
the poor fuckers who have to clean up afterwards.
"So why should I follow you, Seer? I give not one damn if you
tear away my sash of rank. I'll soldier on, for someone else, as I
have before."
"No you won't," Tenedos said calmly. "For you're a Numantian."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the days when a freelance blade could find an army to
fight in without regard to the colors he was under are gone.
"The time has come, sir, when you are either a Numantian,
or an enemy.
"Stand with me, or stand against me. There is no other."
His gaze burned into Le Balafre's for long moments, a stare as
harsh, as compelling, as the one he'd given me when we'd first
met, in Sulem Pass.
The domina broke, and looked away.
"I'll... I'll stay. Sir. And serve well."
"I never doubted that, my friend. Not for an instant You're too
brave a man not to."
And with those simple words any grumbling among the
commanders became impossible.
Not that there wasn't grumbling, in fact it was as loud and
protracted as any I'd heard. Even beyond a soldier's gods-given
privilege to complain, there was some reason.
Men who'd soldiered for years in a unit were suddenly transferred
to a new, unknown formation. Experienced men were needed to
give a backbone to those regiments shattered or obliterated in
the battle or to brand-new units, which were daily being formed.
Some of the complaints were muted because promotion went
with these transfers, and not promotions of a single grade, but of
two and even three ranks.
The only formations left unscathed were the thirteen elite units
that'd been called to Nicias, including the Lancers. Tene-dos
would use us as his spearhead and his right bower until the rest
of the army was completely trained. Then, he said, we could
expect to be rewarded for our sacrifice by suffering the same
fate as the others, and we'd be given promotion and command of
new formations ourselves. "This is true for every man, private,
lance, or officer. This preposterous distinction of class that
keeps a good man from reaching the highest ranks is gone. Let
those who think accents or background or wealth matters find
some other arena to prance around in."
Tenedos said those who couldn't fulfill the responsibility would
be quickly returned to their old ranks and old units if possible.
* This scheme was going to cause problems, and some deaths,
he knew. But we'd have to accept them. "There's a saying on
Palmeras," he said," 'The easier the birth the lazier the man.'"
That reminded me of my own life, and I grinned, and told
Tenedos to never mind when he asked. I was evidently going to
be the father of the laziest Numantian in history, for Maran's
letters told of no troubles, no problems whatsoever, which
reassured me, even though we were in the earliest stages of the
pregnancy.
The second reason for complaints was the loss of discipline.
The army before Imru, before Tenedos, had been strict, formal,
tightly disciplined. That vanished, never to return, and it may
sound odd, but I was glad, remembering all those stifling
evenings in mess when I sat around forced to listen to boring
men mutter on about events no one, not even they, cared about
The new men changed all this.
I was outside my tent, not wearing my rank sash, and saw a
formation, if that is what it was, shambling toward me. There were
thirty or so of them, from the ages of fifteen to maybe thirty-five.
Some of them were barefoot even. Others wore tradesmen's
clogs or shabby boots.
It looked like they'd outfitted themselves from the discard heap,
wearing everything from peasant smocks to tattered jackets and
pants that would have been fine three or four owners ago, to one
proud lad wearing nothing but a loincloth and a battered
dragoon's helmet without leather or horsehair.
What made them even more ragged-looking is that some of
them thought they should arrive in uniform, and so wore bits and
pieces of every sort of military wear, including one or two with
Maisirian gear, which they'd gotten from gods-knew-where.
At their head was an average-looking man immaculately dressed
in a sergeant's uniform that was the pattern some five years
before. If it had been his originally, he'd had a comfort-
able existence since then, for the jacket wouldn't button, and the
pants were kept decent by a patch of matching material to cover
his comfortably successful gut.
He was calling a cadence, and the recruits were stumbling-ly
trying to keep in step. He saw me, shouted attention, and saluted.
Half of the yokels tried to follow, not yet having learned the only
person who salutes is the senior member of a formation.
The uniformed man wore rank slashes.
"Sergeant," I called, and the man brought his formation to a
stumbling halt.
"Yessir."
"How long have you been on the road?"
"Depends, sir. Some of us for a few days, some of us, like Cutch
mere, who comes from the far east, almost two weeks. But we're
eager to serve, sir."
"Is that... was mat your uniform?"
"Yessir. And so were the slashes, although I know I'll have to cut
them off when I'm sworn in."
"Why'd you get out?"
The man hesitated.
"Go ahead."
"Didn't seem to be anything worth soldiering for, sir. So I got
married. Settled down."
"In what trade?"
'Tradesman, sir. But really I was more a peddler. My wife,
Guiana, ran the store, filled the orders, and I tramped the country.
I must've seen this country end to end, sir. Including a lot of
Kallio. Maybe that'll be useful."
"It will be. So why did you reenlist? Times get hard?"
"Nossir. Store's doing fine. Had to take over the two buildings on
either side of it to make room for all the merchandise. I've got
half a dozen assistants, five peddlers out on the road, and my
wife and our boys can take care of matters until I come back.
"I joined up again for two reasons, sir, the same two as the other
boys who're with me. That damned Kallian is one, and the other's
the seer. Right, men?"
K There was a rough cheer.
Now, here was a man who perfectly illustrated Seer Tene-dos's
words about the constricts of rank. He was well spoken enough
to be an officer, but under the old rules the rank he held was the
highest he could dream of. No wonder he chose to return to
civilian life.
"We're glad to have you," I said truthfully. "Soldier well, and
there'll be gold and fame for you all."
"Thank you, sir. Might I ask who you are, sir, if you don't mind my
boldness?"
"Domina £ Cimabue. Commanding Seventeenth Ureyan
Lancers."
I heard a murmur go through the ranksómy name must have
spread beyond the lonely women of Nicias. "And yours?"
"Linerges, sir. Cyrillos Linerges."
He saluted, and the men marched away into the never-satisfied
belly of the army, to be ground up and turned into soldiers.
I tapped on the pole of Tenedos's tent.
"Enter," he said, and I pulled the flap aside. The seer sat at his
field desk, reading.
"Sir, may I take some of your time?"
"Of course. Rasenna's already snoring, so she'll never know I'm
not beside her. She's getting used to my hours anyway. Come on
in. There's a flask of tea over there, and bring me a brandy. I
think I deserve one."
"Yessir. Sir, I brought someone I think you should meet." I
beckoned, and Mercia Petre entered rather shyly. I introduced
him.
"So this, I assume, is to be more than social," the seer said.
"Very well. Captain, do you drink, or are you a prune like the
domina?"
"Nossir. I'm an abstainer, too. Promised my father." "Gods,"
Tenedos moaned. "I'm surrounded by prigs." He appeared in a
vastly good mood, and I was relieved.
"Sir, the reason we came here is because you're in the middle of
reforming the army, and we have some ideas."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Not like ours, sir," I said. "The captain and I've spent a lot of time
working things out, ever since I met him when we first came back
from Kait."
"Ah. Another set of conspirators against the Way Things Are.
You are both to be commended, although Damastes, I admit to
some surprise, since I thought you were a man of deeds, not
words." He looked at Petre. "I call the domina by his first name
since we've served together for quite a while. Don't think I hold
him and what he says in any less regard because of it."
"Nossir," Petre said. "He already told me that." He was fumbling
in his sabertache for the notebook containing our ideas we'd
laboriously built up over the months. He started to hand it to
Tenedos, who waved it away.
'Tell me first Then, if there's merit to what you say, we can work
from there.
"Where's the starting point for your army?"
"First, sir, we should abandon the baggage train. All it does is
slow us down, like it did when I was riding into the Sulem Pass
after you, oró" I shut up, because Tenedos was waving his hand
at me.
"I'm not quite a fool, Damastes, and I'd already figured that out.
It's already in my plans. But how, in your view, should the army
resupply itself? Carry a limited amount of supplies and encamp
when they run out, waiting for the victual-bearers to catch up?"
"Off the country," Petre said. "We put out quartermasters in
wagons, cavalry to screen them, and we take what we need.
From the rich, if possible, but from any enemy."
Tenedos looked a bit surprised. "That's interesting," he mused.
"And it would certainly lessen the cost of a war, turning it onto the
enemy's back. That will win vast approval from our cheeseparing
masters in Nicias."
"We also leave the camp, uhó" and Petre broke off, invol-
* untarily glancing at the inner part of the tent where Rasenna
slept, since the next word was "followers."
But Tenedos had caught his meaning.
"No women, no laundresses, no candy butchers, eh? How
deeply would you make the cut?"
"No one who isn't a soldier moves with the army. Period. No
sutlers, no servants either. The only purpose for the wagons are
for heavy gear and ambulances. And sir, that would mean
everybody. There's no point in telling a sergeant he can't throw a
trunk in the company wagon if he sees the general with a
brougham and mistress."
Tenedos smiled. "Captain, I can see you made your rank on
merit, not diplomacy. But how much faster would this change let
us move?"
"We're not through," I said. "I want to put the infantry on horses,
or mules anyway."
"Gods, that'd mean the biggest stableyard in history," Tenedos
said.
"It'd be big, but not that big. One riding, one walking would be the
way I'd set up these foot soldiers. Then, in time, let them all ride.
Carry enough wheat to keep the animals from foundering on
grass. Again, resupply off enemy granaries when we take them,
not bum them to the ground as we do now. Let every mule have
its own feedbag and saddlebags for provender."
"How would the men fight?" Tenedos asked, his interest now
roused.
"They'd ride to battle, and fight as they always do, on foot. That
way we don't have to take the time to train them to be cavalry," I
said. "No lances, no sabers, but spears, javelins, swords,
daggers."
"Arm some of them with bows," Petre put in. "We never have
enough archers in a fight. Try to keep them out of hand-to-hand
fighting. All it does is pin units and keep them from maneuvering.
We'll lose less men if we can keep them out of a melee."
"But we're skirting the main point here, sir," I said, gather-
ing all my courage. "First, I think we should form the cavalry into
one single striking arm."
"But it is already, or should be when generals use it properly."
"No it isn % sir," I said. "Look at what you yourself ordered the
other night: Damastes, use the Lancers as messengers. That's
the way it always is, sir. An officer sees a man on a horse and
instantly finds a task for him, messengering, couriering, whatever,
anything other than his true purpose, which is to strike hard when
opportunity offers, then move quickly on to the next weak point.
Messengers can't do that, sir. We can't even train to do it when
we're running dispatches from General Poop to Domina Crud.
Sir."
"The other night was an emergency," Tenedos said, frowning.
"Sir," I said earnestly, "it's always an emergency. If you need
messengers, train a staff of them. But keep your hands off the
cavalry."
"Thank you, Domina," he said, putting emphasis on my rank. "No,
no. Don't apologize. So what do I do with this cavalry, now that it's
one great whinnying mass of warriors?"
"We strike for the enemy's heart," I said. "It's like playing rol. You
get the ball, you cut around the forwards, and go straight for the
goal. Ignore everything else. In order, we go after his army, his
capital, his leaders. Cut through the lines as fast as we can, don't
worry about our flanks, and go for broke. Let the infantry take and
hold the ground. Ignore their damned fortresses, unless we have
to have them. Go around them. They'll surrender after we've
killed their king or burnt their capital."
I realized how vehement I'd gotten, hearing a sleepy query from
Rasenna as to what was going on, and subsided. Tenedos sat
for a long time, thinking. Neither of us dared move, for fear of
disturbing him.
"Interesting," he said. "Very interesting. But what happens if the
cavalry is cut off?"
"Then it's their mistake, their responsibility to break free, or * hold
out until the infantry can relieve them. If the unit moves fast
enough, and doesn't allow itself to be pinned down by superior
forces, it should never happen."
"Is all of this down in that little book of yours?"
"It is, sir. And there's more," Petre put in eagerly. "For
instanceó"
"Captain, please stop. A man or a sponge can only absorb so
much at a time. If your handwriting is legible, would you object to
leaving it with me? I'll return it within a day or so, or perhaps have
copies made."
"Gladly, sir, gladly."
"Now that you've ruined my quiet meditation, and probably my
brandy-drinking as well, you may depart."
We stood, saluted, and went out "Camp followers indeed," I
heard Tenedos mutter.
Petre looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. The seer was his
own man, and impossible to read. All I knew was that, unlike
other times I could think of, we'd not be punished for having our
own thoughts.
That, in itself, made the army very new and wonderful.
Tenedos called me to headquarters a day later.
He waved over a short, stocky man who looked like he was better
suited to be a hotel's concierge than an officer. 'This is Captain
Othman," he introduced. "I've chosen him as my new chief aide.
He's quite remarkable, you'll find. He has an absolutely perfect
memory, don't you, Captain?"
"I don't know about that, but thank you, sir." Othman looked
uncomfortable.
"That's all, Captain. I intend to take a short walk with the domina,
and shall return in a few minutes."
"Very well, sir."
We walked out of the tent. I expected... no, hoped, Tenedos
would bring up what was in our notebook, but he didn't Instead:
"I've discovered how Chardin Sher was able to fool me with his
spell."
"What is it? And, if I may ask, how did you discover it?" "I had the
foresight to scoop up a bit of sand from the battleground, and I
used that as the thinnest of aids to see if the Law of Contagion
could help. It did, especially after I forced my mind to make full
recollection of the few minutes I was able to spend with Chardin
Sher, back in Nicias, then brought that memory into the present,
and into reality with a spell.
"I sought his magic both in this world and in others, and I was
able to find enough traces to be quite sure of bis method, or
rather the method he ordered to be used.
"The man is vastly more clever than I thought, and succeeded
where I failed."
"He was able to convince many magicians to work together?"
"Indeed. His own master magician, a man whose name I haven't
learned yet, assembled sorcerers, then sent them into trances,
and while their individual wills were quiescent gave them
instructions to work together. Since these orders didn't interfere
with any of their own desires, or not seriously, it performed nearly
perfectly."
"So now you'll be sending orders to Nicias, conscripting the
Chare Brethren?" I shuddered. "I'd not wish to be the drill warrant
ordered to teach them what foot to march off on."
"I don't think that will be necessary," Tenedos said. "But I do plan
to send a secret message to Scopas suggesting that, and telling
him to leak the idea. That should frighten those fat, lazy
impostors into being cooperative with any favors I may need.
"No, Damastes. That is their spell, and I know they must have
built in countermeasures. I'll use something different, something
better, now that I know what their secret is." He smiled, and his
smile wasn't pleasant. "Chardin Sher will have some surprises in
the next few months."
But the next surprise was for the armyóand for me.
Once again, Tenedos ordered the top-ranking officers of the
army to assemble. My orders also said I was to bring Captain
Petre. I knew this would have to do with our proposal, and began
to hope, for Tenedos was not the kind of man who'd * summon
an underling to butcher him in public. I had some real evidence
our ideas might be implemented: Two days earlier, without any
fanfare, Rasenna left the camp, and returned to Nicias, and other
mistresses or wives of high-ranking officers had followed her.
Now it would be interesting to see what came next and if we were
to learn how to become an army instead of a costume ball.
There were other officers there than just command-level. I was
very surprised to see Legate Yonge, whom Tenedos had not
mentioned in my orders. He grinned, half-waved, and then
Tenedos came out of his tent.
He began without preamble.
"We are building a New Army, as you know. Well, my changes...
our changes ... will cut more deeply than originally outlined.
"Two of my officers have made an interesting proposal, one that
I intend to implement even further than they suggested.
"There will be changes in tactics as well, but first we shall make
organizational changes so our new way of combat may be
possible."
He looked about the audience, and smiled, seeing the dom-inas
and generals exchanging worried looks, terrified that this new
amateur was about to shatter what little foundation the poor,
battered Numantian Army had.
"Don't worry. The changes aren't as great as you think, at least
not on the surface."
He then went on to outline them. First he announced plans to
mount as many infantry regiments as possible, and said he'd
already sent orders to requisition every mule that could be found
and send them south.
Then he announced that the cavalry was to be organized into a
separate branch of its own, much as if it were its own wine. This
hrnnaht rroc´^. ´*-----J ______r^^io. nicy wouia nave a new
mission,
which was secret at present. But I knew what it was: When we
went to battle next, we'd be striking directly for Chardin Sher.
"There is one other type of unit I propose to create, or rather take
an existing group of units and redefine their mission. I am
creating a Scouting Wing, and in it I will be placing all existing
light infantry units, and creating new ones. They shall be the
army's eyes and ears, replacing the cavalry, for whom I foresee a
somewhat different mission, as I've said.
"These new wings will require new commanders.
"For the mounted infantry, I appoint Domina Myrus Le Balafre to
general.
"For the Scouting Wing, a man you may not be familiar with, a
man who's currently in a lesser rank than he should hold, more
due to my inattention than anything else. I name Yonge to the
rank of general." Tenedos had the grace not to say just how low-
ranking the Kaiti was. The hillman stood, transfixed, then yelped
like a schoolboy and leaped straight up in the air.
"A general," he yelped. "Me, a general! Hey, Damastes! I beat
you. I'm there first!"
Some officers were looking scandalized, others laughed. I was
one of the latter, and was about to call for a cheer for the hillman,
when:
"Finally, heading the Cavalry Wing... Domina, now General,
Damastes a" Cimabue!"
The only person happier than I was Captain Mercia Petre.
Tenedos named him the new domina for the Seventeenth
Lancers.
The Time of Heat came to an end, and the Time of Rains began.
We cursed and slipped, but the pace of our training never
slackened.
Tenedos had promised we'd fight before the Time of Storms,
and we were determined to keep that vow.
My most wonderful Damastes I am writing this outside the Palace
of the Rule of Ten, and have hired a courier to carry it by the
fastest means possible, regardless of expense, to you.
Sfi I am free.
Not an hour ago, my annulment was granted by a special session
of the Rule of Ten, at least a year before we thought the matter
would be heard.
I do not know why this happened, why we are so lucky, but will
make sacrifice to all the gods I know because it did.
Oh, my Damastes, now there is nothing that can come between
us.
When this war is over, we can be married.
I am too happy, too excited to write more, but I am well, all is
well, all is wonderful.
Your loving Mardn "My congratulations," Tenedos said. "Thank
you for sharing your happiness with me."
"Uh, it's more than that, sir."
Tenedos lifted an eyebrow.
"Sir, I request your permission to have my bride-to-be come
here, and also wish your permission for marriage."
"That is very irregular, Damastes. We are supposed to be
preparing for war."
"I realize that, sir. But I would be a traitor to myself if I didn't ask."
"Ah. Yes, you would. I forget love can dictate louder than
common sense. Well, now you've asked, so..." his voice trailed
off.
"I understand, sir." I came to attention, and was about to salute
and depart.
Tenedos shook his head.
"Wait. No, I don't think you do. Nor did I, until I heard the echo of
my own words.
"Irregular such an event would be, I said, and I was right. But
aren't we building an irregular army?
"Surely a cavalryman is expected to be full of vapors and
impulses.
"Why not?" Tenedos mused aloud. "It would certainly give
the men something different to talk about The idlers could
complain about the privileges of rank, and the rest of us could
envy you.
"You have my approval, General. Send off a letter immediately.
Wait. I have a better idea."
The captain in charge of the heliograph unit scowled at the
message I'd handed him.
"Impossible, General. I'm not supposed to send messages to
any civilian. The seer-general's own orders."
I handed him the next piece of paper.
"Oh," and his manner changed. "Sorry, sir. I should have known
you'd have the seer-general's permission. The weather's clear,
for a change, so we can send it this very minute."
Seconds later, the light began flashing from atop the tower,
carrying its simple message north:
Come at once. Bring your wedding gown.
Love in War I bowed deeply over the hand of the Countess
Agramonte, who curtsied and whispered, "It is permitted for the
bridegroom-to-be to kiss the bride."
I needed no further encouragement, and pulled her into my arms.
Behind me, soldiers cheered and on the riverboat I heard
laughter, but paid no heed to either.
But my tongue barely moved between her lips before she pulled
her head back.
"As I recall saying once before, sir, you do take advantages," she
whispered.
"You have no idea the liberties I plan to take," I said. "Here? On
the dock?"
"Standing up with my boots on and a brass band playing. Gods,
but I've missed you."
"And I you, my Damastes," Maran said. "I cannot believe that
we've been so fortunate, and that a great general such as
yourself is willing to have a poor soiled woman from the country
as your bride." She laughed and gently removed herself fium my
arms. She was even more beautiful than I'd pictured her, even
here, standing on a splintered wooden dock, wet from the first
downpours of the Time of Rains. She wore a high-bodiced dark
purple velvet dress that followed the lines V,
of her body to midcalf . She wore laced boots and a teal green,
shimmering jacket that matched her wide hat.
"Now, if you'll give me a hand with my baggage."
She needed more than a hand; she needed a working party,
which I'd brought in the form of an escortófour men from each
of the regiments I now commanded, plus a full column from the
unit I'd always consider "mine," the Ureyan Lancers, all in full-
dress uniform. Thank my personal godling Tanis I'd remembered
to bring a couple of freight wagons as well, although they were
high-piled by the time the detail had finished and her two
retainers sat on the sprung seats in front of Maran's trunks.
"Are you planning to stay until next spring?" I wondered.
"This, darling, is the way nobility travels. Actually, most of the
better sort in Nicias are terribly scandalized I didn't bring more
than two maids, but was brave enough to travel into the
hitherlands without a complete staff." She laughed. "Now do you
see what you are letting yourself in for? Now we must do all
things properly."
"I assume part of that 'properly' is that we shall be very proud to
be the parents of a thirteen-month child?"
"No one will ever dream to wonder such a thing of an Agram nte,"
she said. I wanted to take her into my arms and feel our baby
next to me, but I could not I was about to inquire, but noticed
there were soldiers approaching, so chose my words delicately.
"Is... everything all right?"
"You mean the heir?" Maran said, evidently not caring a bean for
what anyone thought. "He's a perfect child, so far. Hasn't spoiled
my figure, and I seldom get sick as the midwife I consulted
warned me to expect."
Newly promoted Captain Bikaner, whom Domina Pete had made
the Lancers' adjutant, saluted. "Sir. We await your pleasure."
I returned the salute, and took Maria's arm.
"The carriage awaits."
Her eyes widened as we left the dock, and she saw what I'd
brought.
* "It's gorgeous," she said. "But what is... was it?" As we walked
closer, I told Maran what little I had been able to find of its history.
Sometime in the far past, some high nobleman or -woman had
visited the tiny city of Entoto, and there'd been a special carriage
built, which had been carefully maintained over the decades,
which one of my staff legates, on a private scrounging mission,
had discovered. Entoto's head of council had cheerfully loaned it
to me, and I'd had men polishing, painting, and cleaning since the
day I'd heard Maran was on the way. It was enormous, almost as
big as the Numantian coronation coach I'd seen in a museum in
Nicias. But where that was red and gold, this was black and silver.
The coach body sat on two four-wheeled trucks, the wheels taller
than I am, and there was room for outriders and guards atop. I'd
managed to find eight white chargers to pull it, and they were
curried as finely as if they were about to enter a show ring.
Horseman Karjan, whom I'd decided to promote back to lance,
held the door open, and we climbed up the steps and he closed
the door.
The inside was as large as the exterior suggested, with soft
leather seats at the front and back, and servants' pull-down seats
against the doors on either side. The windows were glassed, with
curtains. There was almost enough room for me to stand, and
there were four lanterns to give light, and, hidden in the floor,
chests to hold wine and foodstuffs.
I pulled the speaking tube down from its clip in the ceiling, and
whistled into it I heard the snap of a whip, and the coach creaked
into motion. In front of it rode fifty cavalrymen and behind us
more. There were flanking outriders as well, fitting escort for one
of Numantia's noblest countesses.
We moved through Cicognara on the road that led to Entoto and
the army's headquarters.
Maran was looking about, wide-eyed. I took off my helmet, and
laid it to one side.
"Now," I said, reaching out and pulling her to me. Her lips
opened, and our mouths moved together. I slid my hand up
under her dress, caressing the sweet curve of her buttocks
through her silk undergarments. But it only lasted for a moment,
and once more she pulled away.
"I suppose," she said, breathing hard, "you would like to fuck me,
right here in this coach?"
"The thought had occurred."
"I have a surprise for you, my love," she said. She ran her hand
down my chest, until it touched my erect cock, clearly outlined
under the light fawn trousers I wore. She ran her fingernails up
and down it "We are going to pretend we have never made love
before, and are not going to make love until our wedding night."
"Who decided that? Or is that another noble custom?"
"I decided it," she said, her fingers still caressing me. "I want you
all at once, then, when we're both quite mad with passion."
"I already am," I protested.
"Then let me make it worse." She bent her head and kissed the
head of my cock through the material, then bit it gently, once,
twice and my body suddenly jerked.
She pulled back in surprise, seeing the stain spread. "Oh dear,"
she said. "You weren't jesting." Then she grinned. "At least
there's no question you've been faithful.
"But maybe you'll wear dark-colored pants for the ceremony."
"But what about right now," I said, starting to laugh. Tin too old to
be showing off wet dreams."
"What do you care," Maran said. "You're a general aren't you?
And about to be Count Agram nte. Tell everyone come stains are
the required uniform."
I snorted.
Count Agramonte. That evening, as I was trying to sleep, alone,
in my tent, I considered. A general. And a nobleman, although
Maran had explained that it was by courtesy, and was not
hereditary, except so long as I stayed married to her, which I told
her I had every intention of doing until I returned to the Wheel.
* I'd sent letters, of course, to my parents, and wished they could
meet Maran, and be here for the occasion. But that was an
impossibilityóI doubted if my letters would even reach our jungle
estate before the ceremony.
I mused once more how the gods play their game, and how so
much had turned on a single game of rol.
Our wedding was proclaimed a day of feasting and celebration
for the army, and General Yonge's skirmishers had combed the
country for delicacies, although I heard it grated for them to have
to pay for what they purchased with gold rather than a sword-tip
as they would in enemy territory.
Seer Tenedos had summoned me, and announced he would
perform the ceremony, unless I wished otherwise, and named
the site. I thanked him profusely, and said I could think of no
greater honor. Neither Maran nor I had any particular religious
bent, and cared little if a priest or a ´´´=! jvrfnrmaA *- ó---------
______Ñ Ñ r,voi ui a sage perrormeu tne ceremony.
"You do me the honor, my friend," Tenedos said. He smiled
wryly, and said something odd: "Now you see how I use all those
about me."
"Pardon me, sir?'
"Your marriage will be a great day for my army, something they'll
talk about for the rest of their lives, how Damastes the Fair,
General of Cavalry, married just before the army marched off to
subdue the rebellious Kallians. You see?"
"No sir, I don't," I said honestly, although now I do understand
what he was saying and possibly even warning.
All that was beyond me, and, besides, I wanted to ask him if he
was sure he'd chosen the right location.
' have, indeed."
"Butó"
"You just show up, O Nervous Groom. The rest is in the capable
hands of a wizard." And so it was.
Tenedos had chosen the strangest of all spots for the ceremony.
To the north of Entoto was an enormous ruined cathe-
dral, almost a palace. No one knew to what god it had been built;
in fact, there were even stories that it had been constructed by
the gods themselves, in the days before, when they sometimes
lived on this earth.
I'd looked at it when we first retreated to Entoto, in the hopes we
might somehow use it for military purposes, but had abandoned
the idea, less for fear of sacrilege to forgotten deities than
because of its decay.
All that remained were huge stone steps leading up from the
rutted dirt road, and the four stone walls that stretched toward the
heavens for more than feet, crumbling at the top, but with never
a buttress or reinforcement to keep them from falling. The
windows were arched, the glass long shattered, and the floor of
the single chamber was covered with arcane scripts that men
said were epitaphs for those buried underneath.
There were more than a thousand soldiers in formation around
the church, and behind them cookfires for the feasting and
barrels of wine and beer for the drinking to come. It was an
unhappy trooper who found himself stuck with duty on this
occasion.
It had stormed hard mat night, but the rain stopped for a moment
as I rode up to the ruin.
I dismounted and handed the reins of Lucan to a soldieró newly
promoted Lance Karjan had been invited as my guest, and
waited within. I was to one side of the steps, and Maran walked
into view on the other.
She wore a white gown of silk with lace paneling, with a long train
being carried by her maids. She'd curled her hair in ringlets that
outlined her face, with a lace headcovering that fell around her
shoulders.
She looked afraid, and somewhat lost I felt pity for a
momentóshe was one of the only three women in the vast horde
of men, far from home and family, and then felt a swell of pride at
her courage in coming to me, in being willing to wed a mere
soldier, far beneath her in class.
Tenedos appeared at the head of the stairs, spread out his *
hands, and began chanting in an unknown tongue. As he spoke,
thunder growled, and I felt the patter of rain.
From nowhere girls danced, young girls, wearing the white outfits
of spring, and they had baskets of flowers that they cast in front
of Maran and me as we walked toward each other. I do not know
if they were apparitions called up by Tenedos or if they were the
virgins of Entoto, although I'd seen no girls that fair in my visits to
the town.
I saw no band, but music swelled as we met, turned, and started
up the steps.
Over the music I heard commands being barked, and a saber
guard marched out of the rain. The orders were shouted by
General Le Balafre. The soldiers marched toward us, sabers
shouldered, then, on command, crashed to a halt, turned, and
their sabers flashed out to form an arch. Each man wore the sash
of a general. The army was giving us its highest honor.
I swear it was raining, and the sky was gray, but from somewhere
shot a beam of sunlight, and the polished blades shot facets of
light about us as we entered the ruin.
Thunder crashed, and rain poured. It should have been chill and
miserable in the roofless devastation, but it was not.
Tenedos's magic turned the raindrops into drifting flowers that
spun and twisted as they floated toward the stone floor. I smelled
their perfume as we walked forward.
Tiny braziers formed a corridor we walked up, and from each of
them coiled a different-colored plume of sweet smoke, an army
of hues far vaster than the burner could have conceivably
produced.
Men and, yes, women filled the room. Some of them I knew, and
had personally invitedóYonge, Karjan, Bikaner, Evatt,
Curtióothers I was proud to have served with. Others I knew not
Maran gasped inadvertently, recognizing someone who was in
reality far distant, then I almost followed suit, because I saw, for
only a few moments, Maran's friend Amiel, then the faces of my
father, Cadalso, my mother, Serao, and my sisters.
Later I received letters from them, saying they'd dreamed they
were at my wedding, and were able to describe it exactly.
Tenedos stood at the end of the chamber, and we stopped just
before him.
He bent his head in prayer:
"I am the Seer Laish Tenedos," he said, and his voice boomed
through the chamber, "asked by this man and this woman to join
them in matrimony.
"I pray to the gods of Numantia their union be blessed. I pray to
Umar"óhis voice fell silent, and I wondered if he'd had the
courage to silently call upon Saionjió"and Irisu. I call upon
Aharhel to name these two with favor to her subjects. Let those
gods who rule the elements, Varum for water; Shahriyas for fire;
Jacini for earth; Elyot for air, bless them. May Isa, our own god of
war, grant them safety from his fierceness. May Jaen give them
the powers of love, both in ecstasy and in comfort. May our own
god of Nicias, Panoan, bless them. Let their own gods smile,
Vachan, wise monkey god of Cimabue; Tanis, who watches over
the fate of Damastes and his family; Maskal, god of the Agram
ntes, all, all, heed my prayer and grant your boons to these two.
"So we pray, so we all pray."
He lowered his hands, and there was silence. Then he spoke
once more.
"This day is sacred as the day when a man and woman wed.
These two are Maran, Countess of Agramonte, and General
Damastes a Cimabue.
"They have sworn their love and devotion, and vow there shall be
no others to come between them. They wish to join their lives
together...."
If I hadn't had exact instructions, I would have missed the tumoff
from the main road. The rain came in drifting sheets as the white
horse pulled our small carriage up the lane, winding through the
thick forest It was not yet the Tune of Change, but the leaves
around us had begun to change to reds, bronzes, yellows.
fi The lane ended in a clearing, with a great tree in its center
whose branches were a perfect umbrella.
The cottage sat to one side, almost buried in the red ivy that
curled around it. It was small, built of multishaded woods, and
cleverly crafted, all corners rounded and curved, so it was almost
like a small, furry animal's burrow.
I pulled the horse up, stepped out, and handed Maran down.
A man in Lancers' uniform appeared from nowhere and, without
speaking, led the horse and carriage away. I barely noticed,
having eyes only for Maran.
I took her hand, and we walked to the door, and pulled the
latchstring.
The door swung open, and we entered. It was early afternoon,
but the rain had made it dark enough for the two lamps to give
welcome light, and the crackling fire warmth.
I do not know where Tenedos found this marvelous place, but we
fell in love with it. There were only four rooms: this living room, a
loft bedroom above it, a small kitchen, and, behind it, a very large
bathroom, built over a rocky pool heated by unseen springs. But
neither one of us noted these details.
We had but three days, but now I felt I had all the time in the
world.
I lifted my helmet off, and cast it into a corner. Maran, her eyes
solemn, never leaving mine, came close, and her fingers slowly
unbuttoned my tunic, and I slid out of it, and pulled off my shirt.
There was a chair behind me, and I fell back into it. She pulled
my boots off, then I stood as she unbuttoned my trousers and I
stepped out of them.
Maran turned her back, and my fingers moved down the long line
of buttons of her gown, and it fell in a pool about her feet. All she
wore was a transparent white lace undergarment that began
between her legs, ran vertically in the rear until it reached the
base of her spine, then Y-ed out to reach over her shoulders and
down to her sex, barely widening enough to conceal her nipples.
I ran a fingernail down the smoothness of her stomach, and she
shuddered, her eyes closing.
I lifted her in my arms, and laid her down on the carpet, barely
noticing another marvel, that it was as warm and soft as a
comforter. I kissed her eyelids, the edges of her lips, caressed
the inside of her mouth with my tongue, the rims of her ears, her
neck, slipped the straps of her undergarment, and teased her
nipples with my teeth.
She lay with her hands together, above her head, as I moved my
lips down over her stomach. Her hips lifted and I slipped the
undergarment away. Her knees lifted and spread as I slipped
between them, lips moving on her shaven satin, tongue sliding
inside her, warmth meeting warmth.
"Oh, Damastes," she whispered. "Oh, my husband. Now we are
one."
I rose to my knees, and guided my cock into her, measuring its
length within her as her legs embraced me, her nails rasping on
the rug above her head as we moved in the rhythms of love, little
heeding the storm roaring outside.
"How does it feel to be doing this legitimately?" I asked.
"You know," Mar&i said, and I saw in the flickering firelight that
her expression was quite serious, "I never felt what we were
doing was wrong.
"I just wish I'd met you when I was seventeen."
"Now what would the chances have been of me, a country legate
of what, twenty, being able to woo the beautiful, virginal daughter
of one of the richest families of Numantia? I would have been
horsewhipped off your estates by one or maybe all of your
brothers. Things like that happen only in the romances."
"I wonder," she said. "I'll always wonder."
"Do you know when I first fell in love with you?" Marin asked. We
lay side by side.
"The first time I held your hand, and lifted my eyebrows'?" "Stop
being lascivious! It was when Hernad... when a certain person
who shall never be named told you that 'the lit-
* tie woman knows how to please,' the very first night we met, and
the way you looked at him. I'd never seen such contempt before.
Do you remember?"
"I do. But I thought I kept better control of my features." "No, my
Damastes. I fear you can be read like a book, at least by me. For
instance, I can tell what you are thinking at this very moment."
"That's hardly much of a challenge," I said. "You can feel what
I'm thinking, too." I rifted her thigh over mine, then came to my
knees, pulling her legs over my thighs until her sex was close
against me and I was fully inside her. She locked her legs around
my back, and pulled herself back and forth, each time almost
letting me come free. I slipped my thumb down, moving it gently
across her clitoris, and her back arched as she moaned, then
screamed aloud as her body spasmed.
I felt my own throbbing build, pulled out of her, and moved up
over her, rubbing my cock between her breasts and then I came,
gasping as I spattered across her body.
Maran smiled up at me, breath still coming hard, and began
rubbing my semen over her nipples and breasts.
"A lotion to keep you forever mine," she murmured, and licked
her finger.
"What do you want your son to be named?"
"I didn't know it was going to be a son. Or did you visit another
mage without telling me?"
"I just know it will be a boy."
"Thank you, my wizardess. We can name him after your father."
"No."
"All right, then my father."
"Can't we give him a fresh beginning?"
"Mar&i, isn't this a little ..." I stopped myself. "Very well. Let's
name him Laish. That seems to be a very lucky name these
days."
She considered.
"Yes," she said, finally. "Yes. That is a very good name."
**
She was lying on her stomach, staring at the dying embers of the
fire. It must have not been far from dawn. I was lying on one
elbow beside her, admiring the way the fire outlined her
sleekness. She got up and went into the bathroom. I heard her
rummaging around in one of her cases, then she returned and lay
back down.
"Can I ask you something?"
"I never knew you had to answer all these questions on your
wedding night."
"You don't," she said, and her tone was strange. "Not if you're
unlucky."
I grimaced, ashamed I'd accidentally led the conversation onto
uncomfortable ground.
"You can ask anything, you can tell anything," I said, and hugged
her around the hips.
"Once, when we were on a picnic, you started to do something,
and I stopped you from going any further. Do you remember?"
Suddenly I did, and said so.
"Damastes... make love to me again. Please. Make love to me...
that way."
I felt a chill. I was wondering what I should say, and she turned
her head and looked at me.
"Please, my darling?" There was urgency in her tone. I nodded.
She gave me what was in her hand, and I saw it was a tube of
unguent.
I caressed her buttocks, and moved my finger between them,
and she flinched.
"Maran," I whispered. "I don't think this is right. I don't want to hurt
you." My cock was limp against my thighs.
"You must... and I know you'll never hurt me. Please. This is
important."
I began caressing her back, then moved my hand between her
legs, stroking her sex, feeling the wetness I'd left from our
lovemaking. After a time, her breathing became faster, became
panting. I responded, growing hard once more. I lifted her hips *
and slid a pillow under them, then moved her thighs apart and
knelt over her. I slid gently into her. She gasped. "Not there, I
meantó" "Hush!"
I moved slowly, long regular strokes, and her gasps became
moans, her hands digging at the carpet. Now I put unguent on my
finger, and put it in her, moving it in a circle, feeling my cock
inside her body as it moved and my finger caressed. She cried
out in pleasure, and I put another oiled finger beside the first,
both moving, moving.
"Oh yes, oh now, oh Damastes, I'm ready," and I felt her pulse
back and forth around my fingers.
"Ready for what?"
"Oh please, fuck me, oh fuck me where I want it, where I told you
to, please, do it, do it back there, oh please, put it in me, I can't
stand it any longer," and I pulled my cock free, touched her open
ring with its head and pushed, and she screamed and bucked,
ramming her buttocks hard against my thighs, swallowing me in
her, her hands clawing at mine as I supported myself on them. I
pulled back until I was almost free, then buried myself in her as
she writhed in passion, no more than a dozen times and then I,
too, shouted aloud as we came together and collapsed.
We may have laid like that for minutes, or forever. I don't know.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you."
"Thank you. It's over now."
I said nothing.
"I like feeling you... back there. We can do that again."
But we never did.
Three days ... I think we ate a day or so, slept every now and
then, and spent even more time in the hot spring. But mostly we
loved, loved and laughed. Blood and winter lay just ahead, but
our love made a strong fortress, and kept the wolves of doom
away.
I remember those three days as one long orgasm, of gasping
lust and slow, serious, rolling joy, and wondered if I would ever
be as happy again.
Then it came to an end.
Maran went back to Nicias.
And I went back to war.
There weren't enough hours, there weren't enough days, for Bay
men to be ready for battle in time. We drilled, trained, cursed,
and drilled once more.
I'm sure no soldier felt anything but hatred for his warrants, they
for my officers and my officers for me, but there would be no
more disasters like the Imru River if I had anything to do with the
matter.
Little by little, the new recruits were becoming soldiers, although
they were hardly as good as my Lancers. But exercises can only
do so muchóthe final test of a soldier is in blood. We developed
new tactics, officers learning as much as the new men. Of course
the most serious grumbling was done by the old-timers, who'd
"never seen an army run this way." The novices knew no better,
and so found these new ideas no more or less perplexing than
anything else.
Possibly the biggest change came from Tenedos himself. He'd
vowed magic was as important a piece of the passage of arms
as anything else, which Chardin Sher's cadre of wizards had
proven. Now it would be our turn. He had recruiters out
throughout Numantia, seeking out magi who wished to serve their
country, and day by day they trickled into camp and were slowly,
reluctantly, absorbed into the army. If we'd had more time, and if
there weren't the charred corpses at the Imru River, it might have
been amusing, to see all these sages, experienced with demons
and spells, but having no more idea whether they should salute a
private or a general than how to wind a crossbow. But they
learned, and we learned the new tactics of sorcery Tenedos
proposed to employ.
When the monsoon grew too fierce we moved under canvas,
great umbrellas the men could crowd into and watch tiny f, battles
being laid out on sand-tables. Then, when the storm abated
slightly, they went into the field, to practice.
The Time of Rains came to an end, and the Tune of Change
began, and we were still not ready.
General-Seer Tenedos announced we'd march against Kallio in
two weeks.
One of Laish Tenedos's most famous sayings, made years later
when he was emperor, was "I don't care how skilled a soldier is.
Is he luckyV He meant more than just being able to survive a
battle unwoundedóMyrus Le Balafre, for instance, rarely left the
most minor engagement without some injury. He meant battle-
luck, primarily, in which a warrior is able to be in exactly the right
placeófor himóand the wrong placeófor his enemyó without
ever planning the maneuver.
Tenedos said once I was the luckiest of all his tribunes. Perhaps
so, although I wonder now. Perhaps I am the unluckiest, since I
am the last survivor of those splendid, bloody days. But
regardless of today, I have had much luck, in small things as well
as great.
One such was what I chose to wear the morning I was
summoned to the seer-general's tent. One of the hundreds of
wedding presents I'd received was a handmade knife from
General Yonge. Where, in this wilderness, he'd found a
knifemaker of such great skill, I didn't know. But it was a beautiful
blade of ondanique steel, about eight inches long, slightly
curved, single-edged with its upper edge sharpened. Its hilt and
pointed pommel were of worked silver, and its grip a wonderful
mosaic of multicolored woods. Its sheath and belt were of
patterned leather and silver as well. I buckled it about my waist as
I left my tent, slinging my sword in a baldric over my shoulder.
It was blowing cold, but the army was alive with movement as the
constant drills continued. I was just one more horseman,
anonymous under a cloak, and no one paid me the slightest
attention.
I reached Tenedos's tent, the guards recognized me, saluted,
stepped back, and I tapped on the tent pole.
"Enter," Tenedos said, and I obeyed.
'I have a letter for you," he said, and for an instant I felt my
stomach crawlósomething had happened to Mar£n. "It was
brought to the border under white flag yesterday morning. The
outer envelope was addressed to me, with a note asking the
inner one be given to you." He handed it over. It was addressed:
To the Cimabuan named Damastes who styles himself a
General.
It took a moment to recognize the handwriting, then I knew it to
be Elias Malebranche. What the devils could the Kallian want with
me? I tore it open, and took out the single page within. It was
thick, heavy, and felt strange to the touch, like oilskin. I unfolded it
and began reading:
My spies have informed me that you have so fooled the charlatan
Tenedos that he has promoted you to an absurd rank, far beyond
what a bumpkin of your lineage could possibly manage. I look
forward to meeting you on the field of battle and personalty
destroying you.
I also understand you took a wife recently, which I found even
more risible, since the slut was well-known in Nicias before your
return for tumbling every long-dicked, unwashed nobleman within
the city's reach ó
I could read no more of Malebranche's lies. I crumpled the letter,
threw it to the floor, and began to snarl an obscenity.
But before I could speak, the balled paper grew, turning,
swelling, lengthening, and the parchment changed, and between
the seer and myself was a huge snake, fifteen feet long, its body
nearly as thick as my thigh, its fangs dripping, and a horrible
hissing filled the tent.
Tenedos pulled back as it struck, then it turned on me, yellow
eyes glaring, smoke pouring from its open mouth.
My sword was in my hand, and I slashed at the monster, but my
blade passed harmlessly through the creature. Again I f, struck,
as its head struck, lower jaw smashing into my arm, sending my
sword spinning.
It threw a coil around Tenedos, and he gasped agony. Outside
the tent, I heard shouts of alarm, but the guards would be far too
late, as the snake drew back for its deathstroke, fangs oozing
poison.
My dagger was in my hand and I flung myself on the serpent, my
arm around it just below its head. Again I struck, and again I
might have been stabbing air. But I'd at least enraged the beast,
and it turned away from Tenedos, on me. I tried to block with the
pommel of my knife, knowing death an instant away. But my blow
struck true, thudding into cold muscle, not air, and the snake
shrilled pain! I struck again, not knowing why the blade did no
harm, but its butt seemed to agonize the apparition.
Its hiss became a scream, and it writhed, thrashing, smashing
me against the tent's wooden flooring. But I held on, and then I
heard Tenedos cry out, half-strangling, "Silver! Kill it with silver!"
The pommel of my dagger! Once more I bashed at it, and the
creature whipped back and forth, sending me rolling away. I was
about to dive back on the monster, then remembered my belt of
worked silver, and, in desperation, tore it free and jumped toward
the snake's head. Somehow I managed to loop it around the
serpent, and began twisting, as if I could somehow strangle it
The hissing scream grew louder, still louder, and the monster
contorted, beating me against the floor, but I hung on grimly,
nothing else in the world but my hands pulling at that belt, tighter,
ever tighter, and then there came a final convulsion and the beast
shuddered and was still.
I managed to get to my knees. Tenedos lay motionless,
facedown, a few feet away. The tent door was ripped open, and
there were soldiers there. Then Tenedos stirred, groaned, and
pushed himself up to his knees.
"Ah gods," he moaned. An officer ran to him, but the seer waved
him away. "No. Wait." He carefully felt down his rib
cage as he gasped for air. "I... think... they're unbroken," he
managed. He tottered to bis feet, and came to me.
"Are you all right?" I managed to stand, and felt pain shoot
through me. But I, too, had nothing broken, even though every
inch of my body was bruised.
"That bastard," I said, as winded as Tenedos.
Tenedos turned to look at the snake's body, andl followed. My
eyes widened: The great beast was vanishing, wisping away in
vile-smelling green smoke as I watched.
"Quick, Damastes! Give me your dagger! And your sword!" I
obeyed, finding my sword in a corner. Tenedos took them and
hobbled to the fast-vanishing body of the serpent. He touched
the two blades to it, and chanted:
"Steel remember Remember defeat. Learn from silver Feel the
foe. Remember your shame Another time Another place. Then
remember Then atone Then strike At the heart At the man At the
disgrace."
By the time he finished, the monster's body had vanished
completely, and there was nothing left but the fast-vanishing
stench. The soldiers were babbling, and Tenedos shouted for
silence.
"Your guardsmen are dismissed. You did no wrongówhat came,
came from outside. Return to your posts. I am well."
They obeyed. Tenedos touched his ribs and winced.
' lied," he said. "I'll have a chirurgeon bind these for a few days."
He bent and picked up a decanter of brandy. "Ah. At * least the
demon left us with two glassfuls. Will you alter your habits for the
moment?"
I did, and he found unbroken glasses and poured. "Most
interesting," he mused, and he seemed completely undisturbed.
"And very clever. I must meet this master sorcerer of Chardin
Sher's, for he is a man to learn from.
"What a subtle way to attack me, through you. I could sense no
spell, since it was dormant until you did what you did to the letter.
"Malebranche deliberately wrote it to anger you, knowing you'd
destroy it I imagine there were other variations if you'd, say,
thrown it into a fire, to produce the monster. "Very clever indeed."
"Maybe so, sir. But this is the second chance... third, if you count
the fog-demons in Kait and allow for Malebranche's involvement,
that shit-heel has had to kill me, I'd like a chance to be a little
clever with him."
"You shall, Damastes, you shall, if the stars are right. Since
Malebranche feels some special enmity toward you, I sealed
your weapons to him. Perhaps, if you meet on the field of battle,
that will give you a bit of an advantage."
"I don't want an advantage, I want his guts for a winding sheet!"
"General k Cimabue, calm down. Drink your brandy."
I did, and Tenedos took his own advice.
"Yes," he mused, "Chardin Sher is proving himself an excellent
enemy. It's almost as if he had been listening to what you and
Domina Petre said some time ago, about the need to strike for
the enemy's heart. Except that he's taking it to its extreme.
"Very, very interesting. I think we should follow his fine example
ourselves."
Another letter reached me that shook me even more deeply:
My dearest dearest I do not mean to worry you, but I've been
advised by my midwife that our child in my womb is in delicate
health. She has instructed me to keep my chambers, take
no exercise, and to guard myself well for the months to come.
She says our son needs great care to ensure his birth will go
well.
I asked her if my traveling up to see you and marry you could
have anything to do with it, and she said she wasn 't sure, but did
not think so.
Since I love our son, whom I dream of daily, nearly as I love you,
I shall obey her commands.
Forgive me, darling, if I write no more, as I'm quite upset by this.
I shall send another letter on the morrow,
when my spirits revive.
Your dearest wife Mardn Three weeks later, halfway through the
Time of Change, our soldiers still only half-trained, we marched
west against Chardin Sher.
TWENTY-SIX Into Kallio We smashed over the border into Kallio
an hour after dawn, scattering the light defenses like chaff. Seer-
General Tenedos had found a new way of moving secretly.
The magicians he'd recruited had cast spells of normalcy, if
that's the correct description, so it appeared that the army was
still at Entoto. The plan, which worked perfectly, was that an army
moving in "silence" was impossible, so therefore it wasn't
happening.
Another thing in our favor was the time of year; no one ever, not
ever, began a campaign halfway through autumn, for all the
soldiers were busy building winter quarters, not intending to take
the field until after the Time of Storms.
We moved fast, and our New Army showed its merits. Instead of
taking sixteen days to reach the Imru River, we took four, moving
in forced marches and abandoning those who could not keep up.
Wagons that broke down or horses that gave out were turned
over to the quartermasters bringing up the rear. They were to be
repaired or stripped for parts, and the animals either healed or
butchered for meat As for the men who straggled, they were
rounded up by provosts, informed they were no longer part of
their units, and would join heavy
work gangs, little better than slaves, until they proved their
willingness or ability to march and fight. This was the time for
steel to be tempered. The border between Kallio and Dara is no
more than a creek, and their defenses were intended to do no
more than give warning to Chardin Sher's main force a day's
travel distant behind fortification.
We hit the border guards hard, but of course there were
survivors who escaped to sound the warning. We didn't pause,
but marched on, all through that day, and by night we'd come on
the Kallians' camp.
As our magic and spies had told, Chardin Sher was building
major fortifications. But he'd been doing it leisurely, not expecting
our attack until spring, and so they were but half-finished. They
would have been formidable, when complete. Pits and
embedded stakes were used to cleverly divide the attacking
force into separate elements. Once the attackersó our
armyóhad been divided, then it would be led into killing zones
where magic, archery, and spears would destroy us.
There were three defensive lines laid out. They began with a
deep ditch, filled with brush to make the obstacle harder to cross.
Just behind the ditch rose a steep earthen wall, about twenty-five
feet tall. The wall was manned by the first line of defenders, then
came the secondary ditch, wall, and its defenders; then a third,
and then the army's camp. But only the first line was finished, the
second was half-built, and only the ditch was dug for the third. To
go out in front of the lines was through one of the six gates, but
these were barricaded shut and well defended.
Chardin Sher, not being a fool, had realized he'd challenged the
entire Numantian nation, and so ordered conscription throughout
Kallio. He had, in total, about a million men under arms, most still
training, of course, and had moved almost , of them to the
border. Against him marched a quarter of a million Numantians,
with a million more being trained or shipped to Entoto. His
willingness to wage war, merely counting heads, seemed absurd.
But he'd taken the
measure, or so he thought, of his foe, and would hardly worry
about troops as easy to fool and destroy as we'd been on the
Imru. I suspect he thought, correctly, that all Numantia was tired
of the Rule of Ten's ineptitude and ready for change. They may
have been, but Imru, and Seer Tenedos, created a cause and a
rallying point. Also, he no doubt intended to deal us a sharp
defeat once more, and then negotiate or terrify the Rule of Ten
into meeting his conditions.
Even seeing our army march toward his lines, Chardin Sher must
have thought he still had time. Previously, we would have taken
up battle positions that afternoon, then developed defensive
lines over the next few days while each side decided its strategy,
and only then would the two armies creak into battle.
Instead, we attacked at false dawn the next morning. Again, our
new organization helped. Since we marched into battle order,
with no supernumeraries and camp followers to shuffle aside, we
were ready to move against the Kallian positions that had already
been well scouted by Yonge's skirmishers. Tenedos, his
devoted adjutant Captain Othrnan, and the generals had
developed our attack as we closed on the Kallians.
As if fooled, we even attacked into those zones intended for our
destruction, as Chardin Sher had hoped. But since we knew his
intent, we broke our army into completely separate forces before
battle, so there was no real division; rather, it was as if separate
armies were moving against the same goal. In command of the
Left was General Hern, the Right General Le Balafre, and Seer-
General Tenedos himself ordered the Center.
My cavalry, once more, was held back, but no one was upset,
knowing horsemen cannot attack entrenchments. We would
exploit any openings when they developed.
The Kallians were surprised, but fought back bravely, stopping
the Center Wing cold as they came out of the first deep trench.
The lead regiment should have ignored its casualties, and fought
on. But their domina and company commanders were dead, and
so they milled around, easy targets for arrows and spears fired
from the wall above. Among them was Cyril-
los Linerges, and it was here that he first distinguished himself.
As I'd thought, he'd done better than keep his old sergeant's
strips when sworn inóthere were far too few experienced
soldiers for him to hold no higher rank. Instead, after a few days'
probation, he was given a legate's sash and a half-company of
infantry. Promotions, in peacetime, come slow and hard. But in
war, they shower like the monsoon for the brave and the lucky.
Linerges shouted for the troops behind him, still on level ground,
to rip the Kallian stakes out of the ground and tie them together in
threes. He seized the fallen regimental colors and, holding them
high, scrambled out of the ditch, standing just below the wall,
heedless of the arrow-storm coming down at him, and shouted,
"Men who fear not death... attack!" There were enough of those
yet living to scramble up the dirt wall, paying no heed to the
defenders' spear-shower, and fall on the Kallians with sword,
dagger, and clawed hands, and then the enemy ramparts were a
melee of confusion.
Then the tied stakes were thrown against the steep dirt walls and
men of other regiments swarmed up them. Chardin Sher's men
on the wall wavered, and just then Le Balafre's forces broke
through on the right and, not much later, the Left Wing followed
suit and the first wall was ours.
Other stakes were tied into bridges and thrown over the ditches,
just as the storming foot soldiers tore away the barricades,
smashed open the gates, and bugles sounded for the cavalry.
We went forward at the trot, long lines of horsemen moving
toward the smoke and dust of battle, some streaming through the
gates, other regiments flanking the entire battlefield.
Chardin Sher's army broke, but it had held long enough for
Chardin Sher and his top command to flee east and south, into
the heart of Kallio. Domina Petre took his Lancers around the
right flank in pursuit, but didn't make contact, and, disappointed,
turned back after an hour's pursuit.
The rest of us drove into the enemy camp. We carried flam-
* ing torches to set fires and slashed down tent ropes as we
galloped. Those who had the bravery to stand against us were
spitted on lances, or cut down with sabers. The Kallians cast
weapons aside, and we heard cries of "Mercy," and saw
improvised white flags flutter.
Now began the real nightmare of war. I've spoken of the blood of
dying men, men wounded in every ghastly manner imaginable
and beyond imagination. Worse was the fate of the poor animals,
horses, and mules, who had no reason for quarrel but suffered
and died with their masters. But there were greater horrors, as
the soldiers stormed through the army's camp. There was wine,
and there were women. Willing or not, they found new masters
that night. Men and boys who'd been free before the battle
became slaves... or were murdered in the redness of slaughter.
Men who'd been the bravest of heroes an hour earlier sometimes
now committed the most awful barbarities, and it was excused
them as the "rights of soldiers in victory." This is what war has
always been and what war will always be, and I wish those who
are so quick to cry for bloodshed and soldiers could have walked
among the flames and heard the screams. It was terrible... but it
was nothing compared to what I would see in other battles, other
wars.
Officers allowed their men license until midnight, then with the
soberest warrants went out and ended the rapine. Sometimes a
word was enough, sometimes a blow, even, a few times, a sword
thrust, to break up a melee.
It was fortunate for our captives that we'd driven the army hard to
reach the battlefield, because exhaustion struck the conquerors
down before long, and then the field was quiet except for the
crackle of flames and the whimpers of the wounded and torn.
At dawn, the army reformed. But other units, the thirteen elite,
had for the most part held back from the license of the night, and
were already on the move. In the old way of fighting, we would
have marched back across our borders and sent envoys to
Chardin Sher, asking if he had learned his lesson.
But this was new, this was Tenedos's manner of making war, and
so by midday the entire army was moving east again, with only
one objective:
Chardin Sher.
We would destroy anything that tried to stop us.
The light cavalry moved in front, acting as scouts. With the
command elements of each cavalry regiment went sorcerers,
and at regular stops they'd send their special senses out,
seeking signs of the enemy.
Behind the light cavalry moved the new mounted infantrymen,
dragoons on muleback. Interspersed with them were heavy
cavalry, for support.
Then came Yonge's skirmishers and the rest of the army. Among
them was a newly promoted domina, Cyrillos Lin-erges. Our
attack on Chardin Sher's camp had caused far more casualties
than we'd taken, and the swiftness of our assault had been far
less bloody than if we'd laid siege to their lines, but there'd still
been many, many corpses and cripplesógaps in the ranks to fill.
Linerges was but one such lightning promotion.
We moved through the rich countryside like a plague of locusts,
looting and laying waste as we went. The Rule of Ten would be
well pleased, as Tenedos had predicted, at the way he waged
war. Nicias's treasuries remained full, and we ate the beeves,
fowl, and winter-stored supplies of the Kallian people, and found
our remounts in their stables. Their leader had begun this civil
war, and so they must bear the cost.
The Tune of Change should have been harsher, colder, but it
was quite mild, and I needed only a lined jacket under my mail
most days, and was grateful for the warmth of my fur-lined
sleeping roll at night I wondered if Tenedos's goddess Saionji
was favoring him, and holding back the winter.
Kallio was a beautiful land, not spectacular with great canyons,
rivers, and peaks, but gentle, rolling countryside, ideal for farming
or ranching. War had never come to this state within memory,
and so the people were as fat and comfortable as their oxen.
__,. Ѫ, w tamer side of the army, each part accompanied by a
quartermaster's wagon. The army ate well as we marched on,
always easting, and (he days grew into weeks. Tenedos's orders
were that each farm was to be left enough for its people's
survival during the winter, but I fear that command was honored
more in the breach.
Any resistance was met with fire and sword, and the army's
progress was marked by smoke pyres rising along our trail. Too
often these were funeral pyres as well, as farmers decided to
fight for what was in the pens and granaries.
We were moving too fast for the Kallians; they seemed
bewildered at our speed. We encountered only scattered units
as we rode, and their resistance was mostly briefóan ambush, a
volley of arrows, and then they fled.
A few times, though, brave yeomen formed home-guard
companies, partisans actually, and these fought bitterly, often to
the last man, for their land and possessions. Their courage was
admired, but admiration did not extend to mercy.
Sometimes their stand would be aided by a village or town witch
or wizard, but just as audacious fanners were no match for
Yonge's skirmishers or my cavalry, so a local sage's ploy would
be discovered and turned against him by one of Tenedos's
wizards.
Word spread that it was suicide to stand against the Numan-tians.
The best way to stay alive was to flee, to surrender and
cooperate. There was no third option.
It was brutal, but as Tenedos said, "The best, cleanest way to
make war is total. Begin it quickly, end it the same, and there will
be fewer deaths to mourn and misery to endure."
There were no battles worthy of the name, merely skirmishes, but
each day gave our half-trained recruits more experience and
confidence as the army shook itself out.
The image of our army that no doubt occurs is of brave riders,
brass polished, armor shining, horses curried as if for the ring, as
we rode through Kallio. Let me describe one cavalry troop:
There were perhaps seventy horsemen, far fewer than the the
rolls called for to be at full strength. The horses, while fat with
grain, were no more than cursorily brushed, their winter coats
shaggy, manes and tails matted and worn. The men's tack was
scuffed and muddy, frequently hastily mended with rawhide. The
soldiers' clothing was ragged, filthy, and not infrequently civilian
or that of the enemy. Sometimes dirty or bloody bandages
showed. Helmets were strapped to the saddle, not the head, and
held eggs or perhaps some dried fruit. Wine bottles protruded
from the saddle rolls, and perhaps a chicken, duck, or goose
dangled from the saddle. Saddlebags bulged with looted riches
that could be easily carried and traded for an even shinier bauble.
The only thing that gleamed about these men were their always-
ready weaponsóand their wary eyes. The gods should have had
mercy on anyone who dared stand against my cavalrymen, but
they did not.
My dearest Damastes Yesterday morning, our child, and it would
have been a boy, died, in premature birth. The midwife did what
she could, summoning the best chirurgeons and sorcerers of
Nicias.
I wish you could have been here. Perhaps if you were, this would
not have happened. Perhaps my worry about you harmed our
boy.
Now, I mourn alone, and cry for you, for me, and for him.
I am so very sorry, I swear to you, I did nothing wrong that I know
of. Perhaps I did something to anger the gods. I do not know.
But I cannot pray, cannot ask forgiveness.
The world is empty for me.
Mardn Empty for me, empty for her. I knew not what to do. Tene-
dos must have heard, for he rode forward, and offered his sym-
K pathies. I hope I made the correct responses. I wrote a letter
back, trying to soothe her, trying to reassure her that these tilings
happened, that our child was spared the pain of life, but returned
swiftly to the Wheel, where all was good and easy.
But I did not believe it for a moment.
I wanted to turn my duties over to another, and go to Nicias, and
be with my wife. But that was impossible.
Nor could I allow this tragedy to affect me. I had too many others,
men who also had wives and children, thousands of them,
dependent on my being able to think clearly and move precisely.
A priest came, tried to offer condolences, saw the look on my
face, and fled.
I walked out from the camp, ignoring the challenge of the
sentries, and stared up at the skies where the gods supposedly
lived.
I wished them all, each and every one of them, to be torn by
demons and feel a bit of Mardn's and my agony.
I shut off my soul then and let the killing fields welcome me.
A rider came from Domina Petre, requesting my presence, if
possible. I did not have the time, but it was the Lancers, and so I
rode forward.
The regiment was camped in the ruins of a village that had either
stood against them, or else had been put to the match by looters.
A grim Petre saluted me.
"General, this is highly irregular, but I thought you should be
aware of what has occurred. One of my Lancers, a sergeant, has
been found guilty of rape."
"What has that to do with me?" I said shortly. Even though I tried
to watch myself, my pain made me short-tempered and capable
of even greater anger than my Cimabuan temperament normally
allowed.
"The sergeant is named Varvaro, sir," Petre said. "He was with
you on the retreat from Kait."
I remembered the cunning climber from the mountains to
our north that bordered Dara and Kallio, the brave volunteer
who'd been just behind Yonge on the rope when we went over
the ridgeline to counterambush the Men of the Hills.
"Sorry, Mercia," I said. "I am grateful for your informing me.
Summon the man."
In a few moments Varvaro was brought before me, guarded by
two armed warrants. He looked at me, and then his gaze
dropped.
"What happened?" I asked Petre.
"According to his column commander, Sergeant Varvaro was in
charge of an advance scouting party. They found a farmhouse,
actually a group of them, almost a village. They were checking
the buildings for enemy stragglers or partisans, and came upon
this woman. Girl, really, perhaps fourteen.
"One of Sergeant Varvaro's men said the girl was almost shaking
in fear, but she smiled at the sergeant. He ordered his troopers
out of the house, and told them to check the barns once more.
"They protested, but he said it was a direct order, and so they
obeyed.
"A few minutes later, they heard screams, ran back inside, and
found the girl naked, moaning, and the sergeant fastening his
breeches together." "How is the girl now?"
Domina Pete shrugged. "I can't say. Captain Dangom found a
witch in another village, and we took the girl to her. The witch said
she will recover."
"Varvaro, is this the truth?" I snapped. "Sir, I thought th' bitch
wanted it," he said, not lifting his eyes to meet me. "She was
leadin' me on."
"What does that matter? No means no. Look at me,
Sergeant."
Varvaro reluctantly raised his eyes.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
There was a long pause. Finally: "Nossir. I guess not.
But... but I ain't had none since Nicias, an' shit like that clouds th'
mind."
"You knew the penalty for rape," I said, unwavering. "The
people of the land are still Numantians, even though they gave
fealty to Chardin Sher. Your duty as a soldieróas a warrantó is
to protect the innocent, not ravish them."
"Yessir. But, sir... please, sir." Naked fear was in his stare. I met
it, held it, and once more his gaze fell.
"Domina Petre, all is in order. Carry out the sentence!"
"Yes sir!"
An hour later what elements of the regiment that could be
assembled were in formation in front of a tall oak, its branches
bare against the gray autumn sky. Varvaro was led out, his hands
tied behind him. He saw the dangling noose and began crying.
They had to lift him onto his horse. The noose was draped about
his neck, in spite of his efforts to duck, a hood drawn over his
face, and a quirt lashed against the horses flanks.
The horse whinnied, leaped forward, and Varvaro was yanked
from the saddle, the noose pulled taut. His untied legs flailed
against the air, and he twisted, slowly strangling. Against orders a
warrant ran forward, grabbed his legs, pulled, and I heard the
snap of his neck breaking.
A hard death from a hard law in a hard war.
I rode back to my headquarters in silence, and Lance Kar-jan,
riding behind me, was equally still.
A wonderful story ran round the army within a day of its
occurrence:
A carriage had been stopped by skirmishers, a carriage that
obviously belonged to someone wealthy. Inside was a very
beautiful woman, in her early twenties, and several trunks of
clothing.
She announced she was Sikri Jabneel, yes, the Sikri Jabneel,
and was to be taken to the seer-general at once. None of the foot
soldiers had heard of her, but they figured it was best to be
gentle with anyone who looked to be as wealthy as she did. She
was passed back through the lines, after both she and her
belongings were thoroughly searched, to indignant squeals, and
eventually taken to the Seer Tenedos's command area.
She was repeatedly asked what she wanted with Tenedos, and
said her wishes were for his eyes only.
I suppose Tenedos's curiosity was rousedóshe was, and as far
as I know still is, very gorgeous and most charming. I also
suppose, after the letter from Landgrave Malebranche, that he
put out all the sorcerous wards he could think of before going to
her, to make sure she wasn't an assassin sent by Chardin Sher.
I do not know, and would very much like to, who was listening to
what happened. Tenedos never told me of the incident, nor did
Sikri, and Captain Othman never discussed his personal
business. But someone's ears were close to the canvas wall of
the tent that afternoon.
Tenedos introduced himself, and the woman did as well,
expressing her pleasure at his giving her the time, and
complimenting him liberally. He asked what she wished, and she
pretended mock indignation that he' d never heard of her. She
was the toast of Polycittara, indeed, of all Kallio, had even sung
her songs in Nicias itself twice, and appeared in a masque
before the Rule of Ten. Tenedos, always civil, apologized for his
ignorance, and once more, a little wearily, inquired her business.
She giggled, and said that, well, she'd heard so much about him,
even though that terrible Chardin Sher forbade any mention of
the seer, and desired to see what he was made of for herself.
'Tor," she said, and her words were always told exactly, "I fancy
great men, and I have sensed, even though I have no more of
the Talent than any of us who play the part of others for only a
night, true greatness about you."
Tenedos ignored the compliment. "So Chardin Sher is still in
Polycittara?"
"As far as I know," Sikri said, "although I care little about that
man, nor about his piddly little city or his piddly little ambitions. I
have renounced them, for I am no traitoress, but a true
Numantian, and wish to do all I can to help the cause, and bind up
the wounds of our poor country."
A good storyteller could relate this in ringing tones, and
suggest that Sikri may have been modifying a speech she'd
learned sometime earlier for a stage role.
Tenedos wondered exactly what contributions she thought she
could make.
"Why," she said, her voice now a purr, "I was told that you have
no one to share your troubles with, no one to help you carry the
burden of your duties."
"You mean," Tenedos said, "you want to sleep with me."
Sikri giggled. "Is that not the best way a woman can help a man?"
There came a very long silence, and the unnamed eavesdropper
must have assumed the lewdest. But then Tenedos spoke:
"I am deeply honored, my lady. But you should be aware I plan
on marriage when this campaign is over, and frankly consider
myself affianced."
"What of it," Sikri said. "Is a prize stallion content with only one
mare?"
Again, silence, and then a shout for Captain Othman. The singer
started to become angry, but Tenedos told her to be silent.
Within a few minutes the little adjutant bustled in.
"Captain, this is Sikri Jabneel."
"Pleased, my lady."
"She wished to help our cause to victory. I have accepted. Lady
Jabneel, if you wish to remain with us, you may do so, as Captain
Othman's leman, under his protection."
"Butó"
"Either that, or you shall be escorted out of our lines within the
hour and sent back to Polycittara. The choice is yours."
Tenedos left the tent, and the listener must have had to flee,
because nothing was ever reported as to what next happened
between Othman and the singer.
But an hour later her baggage was moved into the adjutant's tent,
and when the army moved out the next day, she rode happily in
his staff carriage, the only woman with the army.
It was against policy, against all the rules and regulations.
But the story was too delicious for her presence not to be
permitted.
I am afraid I did not laugh when I heard the tale, for I was far too
worried about Maran. I'd had no more than two letters, brief notes
that said she was recovering since her miscarriage and there
were no complications.
I tortured myself about what could be the matter, but somehow
found the strength to drive the problem from my mind. It must
wait until the war was over.
The ground rose steadily, and we marched across a wide
plateau, the Kallian farms smaller and interspersed with
woodlands. We moved more slowly, for now there were canyons
and draws that required thorough scouting before we could move
past them.
The weather grew colder as the Time of Storms began, and
gales swept Kallio, the ground freezing at night, then thawing into
mire during the day,
We were less than a week's journey from Polycittara, and
wondering when the Kallian Army would come out to fight.
I was riding ahead, with the scouts, when we came on the great
forest of Kallio. It covered the entire end of the plateau, and
swept out like the wings of an enormous bat. We must pass
through the center of the crescent, where the land had been
cleared and planted, to follow the roads that led down to the
Kallian capital.
Waiting in that crescent was Chardin Sher's army.
TWENTY-SEVEN Death in the Forest I his battle would be
Chardin Sher's triumph. Heóor I whoever his top general
wasóhad an excellent eye JL for terrain. His forces held the
inner part of the crescent, with what appeared to be impenetrable
forest on either side to protect his flanks. He occupied higher
ground, and the rising country between us offered little cover
except for a few tree clumps, ditches, some farmlands, and the
tiny village of Dabormida.
The Kallians had dug only hasty trenches for their lines. This
didn't mean they'd just arrived at this battle site, nor that they
were lazy, but almost certainly that they planned to wait for our
attack, inflict as many casualties as possible, then fall back into
the forest.
The map showed the woods were no more than three miles thick
in the center, so they'd be able to pull back into clear ground on
the far side and re-form. When our forces stumbled out of the
dense trees in broken order, they'd counterattack and smash us.
So I read the enemy's plans, and Tenedos and other generals
agreed.
"However," Tenedos said, a grim smile on his face, "this is where
Chardin Sher is going to meet with another surprise.
"We will attack, but not in the manner they expect. Here is my
plan."
He went to a table where a covered map lay. He pulled the cover
away. "My thrust will be double-pronged," he said. "The first
attack will break their careful arrangements and harry them until
the second strikes at their throat." The officers considered his
plan for long moments, and I heard murmurs of dismay. Tenedos
noted them. "Are you generals saying it cannot be done?"
He looked at me first. I considered, then said, "No, sir. I think it
can, at least my cavalry will be able to pull it off, assuming we've
got enough hours to move, the forest isn't completely impossible
and that you'll provide a feint of some sort."
"Good," Tenedos said. "What about the dragoons? General
Taitu?"
"Impossible," their commander, an old regular, snapped. "Men'
lose sight of their goals, stumble about, make too much noise,
and the Kallians'll have us for breakfast."
"I can provide an infallible guide," Tenedos said.
"I guess you're talking about magic, which never holds firm on
the battlefield. Still impossible, in spite of what my young
colleague dreams. Your plan's too exotic, anyways. It's one of
those quick-fix ideas, and we'll lose a third of the army trying it."
"General, thank you for your opinion," Tenedos said, his voice
suddenly hard. "Now, will you carry out my orders?"
There was a long silence, then the grizzled veteran shook his
head. "No, sir, I will not. I cannot. Your scheme's doomed, and I'll
not hazard my dragoons on such a wild plan."
There could be but one response.
"I am grateful for your honesty, General Taitu," Tenedos said.
"You are relieved. I want you to turn over your command within
the hour to the successor I'll name." He turned to the rest of us.
"This was unexpected, so I must ask all of you to step outside for
a moment General a Cimabue, will you remain?"
I did. Tenedos's iron reserve broke as the tent flap closed
behind the last commander.
f, "Bastard!" he swore. "What the hells do they think an army is
for but to fight? I swear to Saionji I shall relieve every general in
the army if he refuses to fight when and how I tell him, promote
privates, and lead them into battle myself!"
I maintained silence. Tenedos forced calm.
"Very well, Damastes. Who takes over the dragoons? I would
have given them to Linerges, but I have a sufficiently difficult task
already chosen for him. If he survives the day, he'll get his
general's sash."
I had my answer ready. "Petre, sir."
"I should have known. He'll have no trouble going from cavalry to
mounted infantry? Very well then. I assume you have a
replacement to command your pet Lancers?"
"I do, sir. His name's Bikaner."
Tenedos frowned, then remembered. "Yes. The sergeant who
was with us in Kait. Good. It does the army good to see a
common soldier brought to high rank. Consider it done. Call the
others back, if you would." I started to obey. "No," Tenedos said.
"Wait a moment. Two things I'd planned to tell you, and both are
for your ears only.
"First, I've sent inquiring spells out, and discovered the name of
Chardin Sher's master magician. He's a fellow named Mikael
Yanthlus, whose name translates as Mikael of the Spirits. He was
once a Maisirian, interestingly enough. I recollect the other
mercenary, Wollo I think it was, who was in Achim Fergana's
employ. Odd. One day we might find it worthwhile to look into
Maisir's affairs, to see why then-natives seem bent on traveling
abroad and stirring up trouble. But I veer.
"So, now I know this worthy one's name, I have a bit of power
over him. That is one thing. The second is that there shall be a
battle spell cast, a large one, before we fight, which I must not
describe to anyone. But don't be surprised when it begins,
although I don't think, if our strategy works, you or your horsemen
will be within hearing or sight of it. But if it succeeds, it shall make
things most interesting for the Kallians.
"Now, if you'll tell Captain Othman to send for Domina
Petre and tell him he's now a general, and then summon the
others back, we can continue."
There were no other objections to Seer-General Tenedos's
battle plan, which wasn't surprising. Relieving an officer is
generally the end of his career. In fact, most of the officers
seemed impressed by Tenedos's firmness. Men are no different
from horses in some regards, and can sense an unsteady hand
on the reins.
The attack was set for five days hence. I wondered why Tenedos
hadn't ordered the usual immediate attack, but assumed his spell
would take some time to prepare, or else the stars or moon
wouldn't be right until then.
Not that our army sat idle. Yonge's division of skirmishers was
sent into the front lines, with orders to prepare for a series of
probing actions. He would be reinforced with Linerges's
regiment, which had been rebuilt with replacements to about
three-quarters of its strength. Four other regiments were placed
under Linerges's command as well, and these would form a new
division if the battle was successful.
Finally, three regiments of heavy cavalry were detached from my
command to be directly under Tenedos's orders. I wasn't
upsetóit would have been difficult for them to keep up with the
rest of my men when the attack began. Besides, all three of them
were very staid, very traditional units, unlike the Twentieth Heavy
Cavalry of the frontier, more resembling the ceremonial Second
Heavy Cavalry that had been wiped out during the riots. I'd
frequently had to reprimand their dominas for dragging their feet
and being unwilling to accept the new standards. In fact, I rather
hoped all three officers, and a good number of their staff, might
suffer nicely incapacitating wounds, so I could rebuild the
regiments as I wished. Four days later, I was to be ashamed of
that wish.
Three days before the attack, all mounted troops except the
heavy cavalry and one regiment to secure each flank were pulled
back behind the lines. It was hoped that Chardin Sher's sorcerers
and spies would see this, and figure we were once more being
held in reserve until the front was broken.
* Two days before the planned assault, the men of the dragoons
were assembled before Tenedos's sorcerers. Curious, I rode
over to watch what was going on.
All officers, all warrants, and every fifth man were lined up, and
one by one brought before two wizards. One magician held a
Kallian sword in one hand, a shield in the other. He touched the
soldier on the head with the flat of the blade, on the heart with the
shield. The second stood in a triangle formed by tall braziers that
sent red smoke curling into the sky, red being Chardin Sher's
chosen color. That mage chanted:
"This is your compass This is your lodestone. You will be drawn
You will be led. Follow this sign You will know the path. Your feet
will feel Your sword will lead. You will obey You cannot turn."
When they were finished, a wizard explained what the spell gave
them. If they became lost in the forest, all they had to do was
think of Kallians, and they would be drawn in the right direction.
"And when you come on them," the wizard shouted, "you won't
need my magic to tell you what to do, will you, lads?"
The men roared, a hungry roar like a lion about to be unloosed. I
noted the wizard's nameóGojjamóas being a worthy leader,
since I doubt Tenedos had told his magicians to be rabble-
rousers as well.
The day before the battle the fighting began, and Tenedos cast a
weather spell. The skies closed, and hail whipped down,
becoming rain, then snow, then hail once more.
Yonge's skirmishers went forward in various-sized units, and
launched probing attacks on the Kallian lines. Of course
the Kallians counterattacked, and drove the skirmishers back.
Each time, a few men died. An hour later, they'd hit again, in
another sector, and again the Kallians would be forced to drive
them back. Once an entire Kallian regiment came from the forest
edge into the open, and before it could retreat was hit by a
combined attack from a column of heavy cavalry and a company
of Linerges's infantry. They were pushed back, and, after a
pause, another raid was mounted by Yonge's men.
I thought I understood Tenedos's tacticsóto drive the Kallians to
distraction with these small, stinging attacks, so they' d be paying
little attention to other areas of the frontóbut I was wrong. That
was the least part of what Tenedos was doing, although it would
be years before I divined the real purpose.
Late that afternoon, my cavalry and Petre's dragoons moved out,
some miles west of the Kallian position. We rode to the edge of
the woods, dismounted, and, each man leading his horse or
mule, began thrashing our way through the forest. It was terrible
going, branches whipping across our faces, across the animals'
faces, men stumbling and going down in unseen cracks in the
forest floor, horses shrilling and mules braying in anger and
confusion, their owners clamping a hand over their muzzles,
hoping the clamor of the distant skirmishing would mask our
noise. Lance Karjan, just to my rear, proved surprisingly vocal as
we pushed on, muttering a steady stream of obscenities, some
of which I'd never heard.
It was dark in those trees, dank and freezing. But there was more
than the cold to fearóit was as if this forest had never been
traversed by man, and was the abode of old gods, gods who
were nameless, who paid no fealty to Jacini, but to eldritch
deities, demons perhaps, and we all felt chill menace about us.
There were almost , cavalrymen moving through this forest, with ,
dragoons to our rear. We moved in ten columns, each column
sure his shit-brained leaders had picked the absolute roughest
route.
Eventually the twilight darkened, and the day ended. VIe * fed our
horses from the feedbags tied to our saddles. In these long
columns there weren't any officers, any warrant; no one could
traverse the line to see how his men were doing. I was just a
horseman, no longer a general.
There was only one blessing: One of Tenedos's wizards had
developed a spell to keep liquids hot, and so each man had a
clay container filled with soup to warm him. That is, if he hadn't
smashed it against a tree, as I had mine. Karjan offered me
some of his, but I refused, and crouched against a tree, wrapped
in my soaked blanket, and gnawed at some dried beef, allowing
myself a bit of self-pity in the darkness, worrying about Maran,
worrying about myself, worrying about the morrow and how I
would do, if we ever broke out of this demon-haunted jungle. It
was too cold and wet to sleep, and fairly soon it began raining
once more.
But self-pity is a shallow vessel, at least for me, and I found
myself grinning at my own misery. We were well and truly lost in
this forest that went on forever, and we'd never be seen, but be
doomed to wander until time ran out and the Wheel stopped, and
Msu wondered where several thousand of his subjects had
gotten off to and looked for us.
Sometime in the night, it froze, and I guess I slept, because I
opened my eyes to grayness and long knives of ice hanging
from the tree branches around me.
Lucan was looking at me, wondering why I'd chosen to put him
through this torture. I fed him once more, and gave him a treat of
some brandy-soaked sugar I had in a twist of oiled paper, and we
were ready to move on. Now the cavalry marched without the
dragoons. They turned to the east, toward the Kallian forces, and,
using the spell given them, started for the enemy flanks.
About an hour later, the bedlam of destruction smashed into my
ears from the east, and I knew the main battle had begun.
An hour after that, the forest ended, and we were in open
brushland once more. A few miles away, the plateau ended, and
roads led down toward the Kallian capital. We formed our battle
line and sat our horses, waiting.
Yonge's skirmishers had harried the Kallian lines all night, never
giving them any rest. Now all would depend on whether the
dragoons had been able to reach their position in time.
At first light, a regiment of infantry and another of heavy cavalry
had made a frontal assault on the lines. It was suicidal, and the
two units were decimated. As the Kallians moved out of their
positions, to mop up, the dragoons attacked through the forest
from the western flank, smashing out of nowhere.
Mikael Yanthlus and Chardin Sher's other sorcerers had sensed
nothing, and so the astonished Kallians were sent reeling, rolling
up their own lines as our Numantians drove against them. They
tried to hold, but it was no use, and they fell back through the
forest. But it wasn't the orderly withdrawal as planned, but a
staggering retreat.
The dragoons returned for their horses, then followed the
Kallians, so there was a bit more than a half-mile gap between
the two armies. This was exactly what Tenedos wanted, he told
me later, for he wasn't sure how discriminatory his grand spell
would be.
I still shudder to think what it would have been like to be a Kallian,
shaken by the dragoon assault from nowhere, trying to save
himself, trying not to give in to his fear, when the forest itself
attacked him.
Branches reached down, striking like clubs or whips, smashing
men to the ground. Roots rose from the soil and tripped men,
and then curled around them, strangling them, crushing their
bones.
Some Kallians went madóand perhaps they were the lucky
onesóseeing their native earth rise against them. Trees
tumbled, with never a warning crack, and fell on command
groups. Brush pulled at men, holding them back, keeping them
from fleeing, keeping them immobile, as their eyes shot up,
hearing the snap of a widowmaker and seeing it tumble down.
Crows rose screaming as their familiar perches shook, and the
creatures of the forest darted out of their winter burrows in panic
as the forest moved about them, far more than the worst
disturbance a storm could bring.
* This was the first of the two Great Spells Tenedos launched in
the Kallian War. It was impossible. No one could cast it, had ever
heard of it being cast before, I learned. But it had been created,
created by one man. Men whispered he'd sold himself to
demons, but then shook their heads. No. Even that price wouldn't
give that much power. No one knew how he could do it, but he
had, and so the fear and respect his name carried grew.
I knew not of what was going on, but I did feel a queasi-ness, a
disturbance, but laid it to fatigue or perhaps a chill I'd gotten in
the forest. My attention was locked on the snow-touched treeline,
and then men came out of the woods, shouting, thousands of
them, only a few in any sort of formation. They kept turning to
look back into the forest, expecting demons to pursue them, but
instead, from their right flank, came the blast of bugles, and ,
cavalry men charged.
I've said the Kallians were brave men, and so they were.
Commanders bellowed orders, and some men and units had the
guts to form squares to repel our charge. We ignored them and
smashed into the mass of the Kallian Army.
Our charge lost momentum, and now we were a sword-swinging
body of horsemen, trying to beat our way through the rabble. A
man lunged with a pike, and I brushed it aside with the flat of my
blade and sliced his arm away. Another man aimed his bow, but
Karjan was behind him, and he, too, went down. Then something
came at me, and I ducked aside, barely recognizing it as a
regimental standard on a spear. Lucan reared in fear, sending
me falling back across his haunches to the ground.
I managed to tuck and fell across a body, rolling to my feet,
sword still in hand. Three Kallians shouted glee, seeing a
dismounted officer, and pushed toward me. I moved to the side,
so they were in each others' way, parried the first man's thrust,
cut his face open, and he lurched back, and I lunged under his
arm, spitting the second. The third had his blade back for a slash,
but I kicked him in the stomach, then drove my knee into his face
as he bent double.
Karjan was beside me, hewing down at the Kallians, bis
horse as battle mad as he, lashing out with its hooves. I pulled
myself up behind him, and we shoved our way out of the throng,
seeing a welcome phalanx of Numantian horsemen ride toward
us. Then I was safe, and we were on clear ground, and I shouted
to turn, and attack once more.
The dragoons came out of the forest and attacked as we came
back on the Kallians from the rear, between them and the safety
of their capital. They hit the few resolute units on the field,
standing off from their squares and using archers to break them
and send their soldiers fleeing like the others, and the killing went
on.
Then there was nothing but white flags and shouts for mercy,
quarter, surrender,
Less than , Kallian escaped from the field that day. But among
them were Chardin Sher and his master wizard, so the war was
not over.
But we'd met the enemy on the field of their own choosing,
fought them with our new tactics, and defeated them handily.
We'd taken heavy casualties, but only among the heavy cavalry,
Linerges's infantry, and the skirmishers. The blood-price was
acceptable.
Now the way was open to Polycittara. We reformed on the far
side of that dread forest and made ready to fight on.
The next morning, a letter finally reached me:
My dearest husband I cannot say how ashamed I am of myself
for not writing you. ' cmhdt'd^rWiyvxsu^^exi'sp.'hatJb&.death. of
our child struck harder than I thought, and it was as if I was dead
myself, wandering about feeling like my heart had become stone,
unable to talk, let alone write.
I am weeping now, hoping you might forgive me, for I had no
right to feel such selfishness while you, the one who means more
to me than life itself, are just as alone, and in desperate danger.
* I will always be indebted to our dearest friend Amiel, who
dragged me out of my morass of despair, and told me what a
fool I was being. She has given me the greatest comfort since
our son died, and I hope you will love her as I do for it.
Now I realize, we must move on. We have a life together, and
there are other days, and other times. I still want a child, want
several children, but now I want you, just you. I want to feel your
cock hard inside me, feel you scatter your seed in me. I want the
taste of you, warm and salty in my mouth.
Please try to understand me, Damastes, as I am trying to
understand myself. I know I'm very young, and very foolish, but I
am still learning how to love. Please still love me. I am yours for
always, as you know.
Mardn I'd no more than sealed my response to this, feeling the
leaden weight I'd carried for too long fall away, and hoping the
war was almost over, when my tent flap was torn open and Yonge
stumbled in.
"Drink with me, Numantian," he ordered, and plunked a nearly
empty bottle of brandy down on my table.
I uncorked the bottle, and touched it to my lips, seeing that, as
drunk as he was, he'd barely notice what I did. I was right He
grabbed the bottle, drained it, and pulled another from a pocket
inside his cloak.
"So, what do you think of our famous victory?" he slurred, his
voice hard, angry.
"I'm sorry to hear of your losses," I said. "Sorry? Yes, Numantian,
I guess you are." "Yonge," I said, "why are you angry with me? I
had nothing to do with what happened."
Yonge glowered at me, then slowly nodded. "No," he agreed.
"No, you didn't. Guess I'm angry at everybody, and nobody.
Nobody but one.
"You know how many men got killed, whittled away, a
man here, a man there, a squad here, a company there? Damn
near half my skirmishers.
"They aren't like other soldiers, you know. Takes time to train a
man to not want to go blazing out with a sword, but take the
measure as he's taught, and tell it to others, and let them fight.
"Prob'ly takes longer than to build a cavalryman."
He drank.
"Wonder why that bastard did it to me."
'Tenedos?"
"He's the only bastard I can think of. Told me what to do, and I
did it. Did it without arguin', knowing what'd happen.
"Damn the bastard."
"What would you have done?" I said, trying to be diplomatic.
Yonge, in a mood like this, was looking for a fight, and I knew the
Men of the Hills seldom used fists to settle their differences.
Even drunk, I had no confidence I could defeat his knife. "He
said he was using you as a feint, to cover the dragoons."
"You believe that?"
"I do."
Yonge stared at me very hard.
"You remember, a long time ago, I said I wanted to study honor
from you?"
"I do. But I think you're now a better one for me to study," I said.
"Shit on that. I still think you tell the truth. You don't think there was
any better way to start the battle? You don't think my men were
thrown away?"
"Why would Tenedos want that?" I said. "He knows how valuable
the skirmishers are. Hells, man, he created the force."
"He did," Yonge grudged. "I don't know why we was sacrificed.
But I feel we were."
"Why?"
"I don't know." Yonge heaved a deep sigh. "Hells. Maybe I'm just
drunk, and mournin'. Maybe that's all." He lifted the bottle, and, to
my amazement, finished it.
"Guess I'm not thinkin' straight," he said, and stood. "Sorry to
bother you. You're a man of honor, like I said. An' I trust you."
His eyes slid closed, and he toppled. I caught him before he hit
the ground, and eased him down. I called for Karjan, and we
made a rough bed for the general with my cloak and a pillow. He
muttered something about honor and blood, then began snoring.
I little wanted to be inside his head in the morrow.
I tried to go to sleep, but the absurd thought stayed with me: Why
had Tenedos chosen such a sacrificial way to begin the
engagement? It was another answer I wouldn't have for years.
Now Tenedos's magic held Chardin Sher firm in its vision, and
because of that many lives were saved, both Kallian and
Numantian. If he had not been able to track him through sorcery,
we might have decided Chardin Sher would retreat to the capital,
gone after him, and mired ourselves in street butchery. Probably
the Kallian assumed we would do just that, and give him some
time to regroup, for he fled past Polycittara, and took refuge
beyond.
The Numantian Army ignored the bait of Polycittara and marched
after him. Two weeks after Dabormida we came on his final
refuge.
It was a huge brown stone fortress, walls many yards thick, that
occupied the entire top of a solitary peak that commanded the
center of a fertile valley. It was the ultimate refuge, and I think all
of us thought the same thing:
We would all die here, under these grim battlements, before we
would destroy Chardin Sher.
TWENTY-EIGHT The Demon from Below I he nameless
fortress had an evil reputation. It had I been built centuries before
by a meditative order, its JL battlements intended to give shelter
to the priests and simples of the surrounding country men when
raiders threatened. But as the centuries passed the order
became fascinated with the dark arts, and it was said they were
more feared than any brigands. All manner of evil was attributed
to these priests, including human sacrifice to demons.
One storm-tossed night, the story went, nearby peasants heard
screams from the fortress, screams far louder than any human
throat should be able to produce. A few of the bravest chanced
peering into the night, and saw all of the citadel's lights flash
bright and then go out as if they were a single candle snuffed by
a giant hand.
The next day, no one came out of the citadel, and that night it
remained dark. So it went for a week until one courageous young
man chanced climbing the ramps to the entrance, and found its
iron gates blasted open, as if a giant hand had ripped them away.
He entered, and found no sign of any of the priests. Nor was
there any indication of what had happened, neither bloodstain nor
corpse to be found.
* The stronghold sat vacant for almost a century, then an outlaw
baron took and held it, and once more the valley paid a bitter
price for "protection." Three generations of this family held the
fortress, each lord more baneful than the last.
Finally, Chardin Sher's father mounted an expedition against the
current baron and, by deceit, gained entrance. The baron was
taken, tried for his crimes, and quartered below the citadel. His
women and children were reduced to commoners and sold as
slaves. Perhaps the fortress should have been left empty, or
even razed to the bare rocks. But it was not. Chardin Sher's
father and then his son made it their last refuge, adding to its
defenses.
Now it was surrounded by the Numantian Army. There were three
choices: to reduce it by sorcery; to attempt to storm it; or starve
out Chardin Sher, his magicians, and his retainers. Tenedos tried
magic first, and his assembled magi used the natural force of the
season to send storm after storm against the towers. The
magicians within, led by Mikael Yanthlus, not only used defensive
spells to lessen the effect, but sent their own conjurations against
the soldiers below.
The normal spells of apprehension, fear, and such were
accompanied with incantations intended to bring sicknesses and
plagues on us, fortunately countered by Tenedos's magicians
before more than a handful of victims were stricken.
The storm spells were cast again and again, and then it seemed
they took on a life of their own. It was awesome to watch the
dark bulk of the citadel against the night as winds screamed
against it and lightning slashed from the skies, thunder rocking
the valley.
It was awesomeóand harder on us in some ways than on those
inside, for at least they had shelter. We had nothing but canvas,
and the winds laughed at our tents and ripped them to shreds.
The fields were sodden muck, and the farmers fled the wrath of
the Numantians.
One night was marked by bolt after bolt, and it seemed certain
the fortress would be, must be, broken and shattered to the
smallest stone as it stood against the night, its bulk sheathed
with white light. But when the dawn mist blew away it still stood,
seemingly untouched. Then someone noticed a narrow crack
down one side. We tried to feel hopeful, but if that was the best
Tenedos's wizardry could produce it would be a very long siege.
Two days later, Tenedos summoned me. He was not living under
canvas, but had taken over a guildhall in the nearest town. I found
him there, and was about to jest about how comfortable our
leaders chose to live, but clamped my mouth shut, seeing how
drawn and gray his features were. He looked far worse than any
horseman or private, and I realized this war of spells was as
exhausting on him as hand-to-hand fighting would be for me.
I asked his health, and he said he was well, and then inquired as
to mine, as to how Maran was doing, was she managing all right,
and so forth. He took me into his own chamber, and told me to sit
down while he made tea.
He brewed a fragrant, warm concoction, and let it steep. I drew in
the smell, and felt the long chill in my bones from living rough for
so long dissipate a little. He poured me a cup, and offered a tin
of sweets that must have just been sent him by Rasenna.
I took one, just as a small alarm bell tinkled in my mind. I
attempted to turn it into a joke, saying that, no doubt, with all this
buildup I was about to be asked to do something completely
insane, such as storm the fortress single-handed.
"Just so, Damastes," Tenedos said, and there was not an ounce
of humor on his face or in his voice.
"Sir?"
"May I sit down?" This was unusual, my commander hardly
needing my permission for anything. I nodded. He poured
himself some of the tea, then let it sit and grow cold, ignored,
while he considered his words.
"Damastes, we must destroy Chardin Sher. There can be no
truce, no surrender except unconditional, or he'll try to usurp our
rulers again."
"Of course."
* "I do not know if the army can stand up to a long siege, quite
frankly. We have no training, nor, with our new policies, the
supply train that would allow us to keep Chardin Sher's fortress
invested. Nor do we have the engines for such a battle, and it
would be several months to build or have them built and
transported to the faraway area.
"I know it is my army, and they obey me absolutely, but I fear if
we just sit here the Rule of Ten will find a backbone somewhere,
and begin meddling once more."
"We can hardly take that bastion by storm," I pointed out.
"No," Tenedos agreed. "Nor, although you did not hear it from
me, will magic work. I have more power than Mikael Yanthlus, and
with my magicians far greater strengths than he and his staff can
ever produce. The problem is all he need do is defend, which
takes less energy than to attack. The best my mightiest
incantations could produce, and this was calling in debts owed
creatures of other worlds, was that storm that managed to chip
the citadel's paint.
"Pfah! I like this but little."
"So somehow I am going to be the solution to everyone's
problems," I said.
"I was serious, Damastes. Let me explain. There is something
dark, something evil, about that fortress, as you know if you've
heard anything of its history. I don't know what it is exactly, but I
have managed to contact this thing, this power, and woo it to do
my bidding. You may not ask what its price is, but it is terrible, but
not to be paid for some time to come, fortunately.
"But this thing, force, demon, whatever it is, desired something
else before it agreed to the bargain.
"If it is to act as I wish against Chardin Sher, I must be willing to
prove my sincerity, or maybe commitment is a better word."
Tenedos sat silently for a moment, then went on. "A certain
service must be performed by someone I love, a service that
could mean that person's Me, or the force will not grant my wish."
"So I'm to be a hostage?"
"More. You must enter the fortress and, on the floor of its
innermost courtyard, draw a symbol and pour a potion out. Then
the bargain is sealed." "I assume I die in the process?"
"Not necessarily," Tenedos said, but he looked very unsure. "If
you manage to make entrance, do what you're required, you
could well have time enough to escape if you're not discovered."
"And what are the chances of that," I said, feeling my guts cold
within me. "As a matter of fact, how do I know that this demon or
whatever it is will keep its bargain?"
"I'll be truthful. There is a chance of betrayal, but a very slight
one. As for you being able to escape, I'll give you all the
sorcerous guards I can provide."
"How am I to enter the citadel? Can you change me into a bird?
Or, considering the nature of that place, a bat might be more
appropriate."
"Of course not." He took me by the arm, and led me to a window
and opened its shutter. The winter wind howled around us, but
neither of us paid mind, as we stared up at the brooding mass
not many miles distant. As Tenedos pointed, I'd already guessed
his idea. It was not utterly impossible, just highly so.
Tenedos closed the shutters.
"I shall not press you for an answer, Damastes, my friend, and
you now know how highly I prize that title, for you are the only one
who is acceptable to my partner-to-be. You don't even have to
tell me no. If I don't hear from you within a day or so, well, then,
we'll find another way to winkle Chardin Sher out."
I only half-heard him. I opened the shutters, and looked up once
more at the fortress. I was reminded what I'd been taught from
when I was a child, that a leader's duty is to lead from the front,
and then I remembered a proverb I'd heard somewhere, that
duty is hard as iron, but death is light as a feather.
Easy words, hard meaning. My mind turned to Marin, and I
thought wistfully of her. I desperately wanted to say no to this
absurd idea, but could not. Nor could I agree to it. I wondered if
our child had been bom whole if I'd cling to life so desperately,
something a soldier must not do.
I banged the shutters to, and turned to the seer.
"You needn't wait for a reply. I'll go."
A slow smile moved across his face.
"Do you know, Damastes, I never doubted that you would say
yes? That's why it took me two full days to find the courage to
ask you."
The way in was, of course, up that lightning-cut crack in the walls.
Once atop the walls, all that would be necessary was to evade
the sentries on the battlements, make my way down the wall,
across unknown obstacles, perform Tenedos's task, and then
somehow be able to escape with my head more or less attached
to where it was most comfortable.
On the way I also planned to end war, disease, and famine with
my free hand.
I decided I'd need three other fools to accompany me.
The first was Lance Karjan. I told him what the chances were,
and he shrugged. "Sir, how many times since we met have we
been dead an' gone already? I'm gettin' used t' the idea by now.
'Sides, if we get away wi' it, which we ain't gonna, it'll be a tale
that'll buy me drink for the rest of my life."
"If you're going," I said, "you'll have to go as a lance-major.
Bigger death benefits."
Karjan growled, then grinned.
"You'll take any 'vantage, won't you, sir?"
"I will."
He saluted.
One.
I couldn't simply tell my dominas I needed two more men,
because I knew I'd be swamped with volunteers. While I
considered how to do it, Karjan returned. Behind him was the
bulk of Svalbard, that great silent brawler who I now was pleased
to see wore the slashes of a lance-major.
"He's goin', too," Karjan told me.
"Lance Karjan told you what I'm going to attempt?"
"He did. Sir."
"You're aware there are no chances of surviving?"
"Don't believe that. Sir."
We stared at each other in silence. I was the first to break,
knowing how useless it would be to say more.
"Very well. Leave your troop and move up here to my
headquarters."
"Thank you. Sir." And the man was gone.
Two.
The third was Domina Bikaner, who insisted he by the gods had
the right to go, being who he was and how long we'd soldiered
together. I told him absolutely no. The Lancers needed him. He
began to argue, and I had to order him to shut up and get out. I
was considering who I should ask to finish the suicide team when
General Yonge entered my tent without bothering to knock.
"I understand, my friend, that you are planning something
completely foolish."
"That's about the best way to put it. How did you hear about it?"
"Never ask that of a man who was his village's best chicken thief
before he could walk more than five paces without falling. I want
to know why you did not call on me?"
"Because you are a gods-damned general."
Yonge spat on my tent floor, and lifted off his sash. His knife was
suddenly in his hand, and the sash was cut in two pieces. He cast
it down and ground his heel across it "Now I am just Yonge of the
Hills."
I swore at him, and he swore back at me. I told him he was being
insolent, and he told me I had best watch my tongue, for a Kaiti
would not allow anyone, not even a general, to talk like that.
Especially if he was Numantian.
"You know I could call for the provosts, or tell Tenedos, and
you'd be held in irons until I returned?"
"Do you think I would still be here by the time they * arrived?
Listen, you ox of a Cimabuan. I came to study honor, did I not?"
"Honor is not foolishness, dammit!"
"What idiot said that?"
My grin took me by surprise.
"As for that wizard, pah!" Yonge went on. "Do you think I obey
him because I'm afraid? I do what I want when I want. For a while
it amused me to lead soldiers, to try to teach poor lumbering
farm boys how to move as if they were men of the crags. Now it
amuses me to do something else.
"Now I plan to climb that fortress to see what is inside. Would
you care to accompany me, Cimabuan?"
"How do you know I'm planning to climb it?"
"Because not even you are foolish enough to try tunneling."
Tenedos would be livid, but:
Three.
Two generals and two lance-majors stood in sheeting rain at the
foot of the nearly vertical wall of Chardin Sher's last stronghold.
Ten feet above us, the crack lightning had smashed into the
fortress began.
The storm had raged, on and off, since noon of that day,
alternating with periods of calm. It was partially regulated by thirty
of Tenedos's magicians, working from a post just behind our
front lines. In my pack I carried a small, dark lantern, which I
could use to signal the sages. One flash meant lift the storm, two
meant bring it down. Three flashes would be sent whenóor
ifówe reached the top of the wall. "I doubt if this will work
exactly," Tenedos had said. "But it's worth the effort." Also in the
pack were gloves, sock-like covers to muffle my nailed boots if
we succeeded in climbing to the ramparts, a flask of tea, three
sealed oilskin pouches of spiced chicken, plus some jerked beef
and hard candies to suck. The most important item was a quart
flask full of the potion that would set off the spell. Beside it was a
fat stick of reddish chalk-looking material. I'd spent four hours
drawing and redrawing the figure I was to create inside the
courtyard, with )
Tenedos hovering over me and correcting my mistakes, although
both the figure and the symbols that were to accompany it made
no sense to me. I asked Tenedos if the rain wouldn't wash the
chalk off the stones, and he told me it had a spell cast to prevent
that from happening.
I also had a belt pouch with a small hammer and soft iron spikes
to hammer into cracks in the wall for climbing aids. Over my
shoulder was a fat coil of rope.
I wore dark clothing, fingerless gloves, and a stocking cap. The
other three were dressed the same, and had similar gear in their
packs.
Each of us carried but three weapons: a dagger and two four-
inch pigs of lead. I carried the dagger Yonge had given me for a
wedding present, after I'd gotten Tenedos to put a darkening
spell on its silver.
We looked up and up, and our way seemed endless. But it was
growing no shorter by the looking, and so Svalbard bent, Yonge
stepped into his cupped hands, and the big man cast Yonge
upward. He caught the edge of the crack, and shinnied up a few
feet. Yonge pushed an iron peg in, then dropped a rope for the
rest of us to use to start the climb.
Then it began. Yonge in the lead, I behind him, then Karjan and
Svalbard, all roped together. We used our hands and the sides
of our feet, forced into the crack to move up a step, then another,
then another. It was monotonous, wet, and muscle tearing. I
thought of signaling for the magicians to try to lighten the storm,
but I'd rather be wet than heard.
We went on and on, ever more slowly. Once Yonge slipped, his
hands scrabbling on the slippery stone, and his boots crashed
down on my shoulders, almost knocking me loose. Then he had
a grip, and we were climbing once more.
The way became easier as we went higher, and the crack
widened. I'd hoped that we'd be able to move completely inside
it, but we weren't lucky, because the wall had been built in layers,
and the lightning had only broken the outermost. It was still
almost three feet deep, and so we were somewhat sheltered
from the weather.
I was reaching for a hold when a bird squawked, and bolted
from its nest into my face. I jerked back, and came off, falling
the few feet to the end of my rope. Fortunately Yonge had
heard the bird's alarm, and had time to brace himself. I swung
back and forth like a pendulum, feeling the rope throttle the life
from me, then Karjan pulled me in to safety. I took a moment to
let my heart reenter my breast, and we climbed on.
I'd hoped the night would be endless, but it wasn't, and we were
still climbing when I realized I could see Yonge's boots above
me. I cursed, having feared this would happen, and that day
would break and we would still be on the wall.
There was nothing to do but move as far inside the crack as we
could and wait. I was afraid to keep going, for fear of being heard
or, more likely, seen by anyone looking over the parapet.
The magicians saw our plight, and attempted to make it easier by
calling up spells and stopping the storm. I clawed out the lantern,
blew its wick to life and over and over again, blinked twice... twice
... twice. Better to be wet and miserable than dry and dead. I
guess they saw my feeble signal, for the rain started again.
That ended another worryówhen it had been clear I saw white
dots far across the fields staring up, and knew we'd been seen
by our fellow soldiers. I cursed, but there was nothing that could
have been done. Warn the soldiers not to look at the wall and
assume no Kallian would hear the warning, sorcerously or
otherwise? Make the officers order their officers not to look at the
fortress? I just hoped not many of the fools would point and draw
Mikael Yanthlus's attention.
We drank our tea, chewed our rations, shivered, and stretched
our muscles whenever we could. Karjan muttered something
about why did following me always mean going straight up. I
refrained from reminding him about his volunteering. Yonge
grinned and whispered that this crevice was like a vacation home
to him; sometime Karjan would have to take leave to Yonge's
mountains and see what real climbing was like. That was the
bestóand onlyójest of that rain-soaked day.
Eventually the light died, and we crept out, onto the face of the
wall, our bodies creaking at being forced once more into
exertion, and climbed on. The crack widened, and we climbed
with our backs against one wall and used our feet to "walk" us up
on the other. It was excruciatingly painful, tearing at the muscles
of my thighs, but I was afraid the crack would open up farther,
and then we'd have to use our pegs and ropes.
But it did not. I was moving numbly, one foot, then the other, then
push the back up and I banged my head against Yonge's boots. I
was about to mutter an oath and wonder why he'd stopped
climbing, then I realized:
We'd reached the top of the wall.
I unroped, slipped inside of him, and scrabbled up. I listened, but
heard no sound of a sentry. I reached into my pack, took out the
dark lantern, and sent three flashes into the night.
I reached up, felt the welcome smoothness of worked stone, and
lifted myself out of the crack and through a crenel and was on my
hands and knees on a rampart of Chardin Sher's fortress. I
looked for sentries, and thought I saw movement, but it was
distant on a far wall. Chardin Sher wasn't a fool and leaving his
fortress unguardedóthere was little point in having the ramparts
lined with soldiery, for any attack would be heard long before it
reached this point, and with the storm blowing hard all that would
be accomplished was to wear out good men. It took some care
to spot the few guards since the ramparts were lined with
obscene statues of demons, leering defiance at the world
beyond.
I hissed, and my three men came up. I guessed the hour close
to midnight. There were no maps of the inside of the fortress,
and Tenedos had been afraid of alerting Chardin Sher's
magicians if he tried to peep inside.
I saw our goal, though, and the path seemed fairly
straightforward. Impossible, but straightforward, and I knew there
was no impossibility for the four loons who'd managed to reach
as far as we had. I whispered a question, and found that all three
of my men could swim, so my scheme had possibilities.
The stronghold had been built with a concentric series of walls,
so if one line of defense fell, the garrison could fall back to
another, and then another.
It looked to me as if we could reach our objective with only one
more wall to climb, and so we crept along the top of the rampart
to the point I'd indicated. We knotted a rope at three-foot
intervals, tied it off to one of the statues, and went down the rope,
walking backward, with the rope coming down over one shoulder,
then up between our legs and across one thigh.
The small problem we faced at the bottom was that this section
of the fortress was the defenders' reservoir. We lowered
ourselves into the water, far over our heads, and began
swimming. It was harder than I'd imagined to swim with the
weight of the pack and our clothes, but at least the other three
had the buoyancy of their rope coils. We left mine dangling in the
shadows. It would not only provide a fast retreat, but if it was
discovered we'd hear the hue and cry and hopefully have time to
devise another exit. The pouring rain mottled the water's surface,
so we were impossible to see from the walls around us.
The far side of the reservoir was slimy, sloping stone, halfway
toward vertical, intended as a runoff so rain could refill the pool.
We used our iron pegs, one in each hand, digging them between
the stones, and moved steadily upward, four crabs hunting dinner
along the shoreline. It should have been fairly easy, but we were
tired from the day and two nights on the wall, and our muscles
sorely stretched.
But we reached the top, and once more peered through
crenellations to look for guards. The storm had lightened,
unfortunately, and I could see dimly. This inner keep was better
guarded than before, with one sentry on each of the ramparts
visible. Very well. I'd hoped to be able to make this sortie without
leaving a body to be discovered, but that would be impossible.
We flattened close to the rampart, and waited.
The sentry paced toward us, huddled in his cloak, paying little
attention to anything except his own misery. Blackness reared out
of blackness, and he had not even a moment to cry
out as an arm swept around his chest, Svalbard's other great paw
cupped his chin, and snapped his head sideways. His neck
broke with an audible crack, and Svalbard let the body slip to the
rampart, then stared down, his expression calm, as if nothing had
happened.
I pulled the sentry's helmet off and gave it to Karjan. Even in this
darkness I could see his scowl, but he was the most logical
choice. We pulled the body's cloak off, gave it to Karjan, then slid
the corpse over the parapet into the reservoir.
Karjan, with the Kallian's spear and cloak, the too-small helmet
forced over the top of his head, would pose as the sentryóso no
one would see bare walls and give the alarmóas well as being
our rear guard.
We pulled the muffling covers over our boots, saw steps not far
away, and went down them, zigging back and forth, until we
reached ground level.
Our way led through long stone corridors, and I lost direction
twice, and had to retrace my steps. I heard voices several times,
and we went by doors with light shining under them, but
encountered no one. The Kallians were either asleep or acham-
ber in front of a blazing fire at this hour, and I blamed them not,
feeling the darkness of the ancient building in my bones.
We went up steps and down a passageway. Ahead was a solid
iron door, standing open, that led into the open.
I went through it, and the door slammed behind me with a clash
of metal, and a bar dropped into place, sealing Yonge and
Svalbard on the other side!
Elias Malebranche came out of the darkness.
"I felt you coming, Numantian," he hissed. "I have a touch of the
Talent, and my master's sorcerer was kind enough to give me an
amulet to help. I'd hoped to encounter you on the battlefield and
slay you there, but you have come to me, instead. So we can
settle our private business privately."
His hand touched his waist, and the knife came out.
"Third time lucky, Damastes."
I said nothing. Talk in battle is for buffoons and the
overconfident. My own dagger was in my hand, and we circled If,
each other. Malebranche was a far better knife-fighter than I, but I
hoped his arrogance would help me. Not only had he spoken, but
he had not given the alarm. He wanted the glory of killing me and
ending our mission all to himself.
Players on a stage portray a knife fight as a series of lunges and
thrusts for the vital areas. It's most dramatic, but also completely
unrealistic. A real knife fight either ends on the first thrust, when
your opponent is surprised and, hopefully, his weapon is still
sheathed; or else is an unbelievably gory affair, with the two
battlers slashing away, trying to wound or cripple the other before
attempting the killer stroke.
Malebranche's knife flickered, and I wasn't able to pull back in
time. Pain burned the back of my forearm, but fortunately the
Kallian hadn't been able to sever the tendons of my hands, as
he'd intended. He came in once more, and I kicked hard, my
boot connecting with his lower leg, and he gasped, bent, and I
cut him. I'd aimed for his neck but missed as he backrolled away,
back to his feet.
"That is the end for you, Damastes. It is a pity you'll not live to
witness the coronation of Chardin Sher as king of Numantia.
Perhaps I'll take your widow to my bed, as recompense for the
time you scarred me. Think of that, Damastes, as you go down
into death."
He slid around, toward my weak side. As he did, his guard was
open for a moment, and I thrust. But it was a deception, and his
free hand snapped out, and sent my dagger spinning away, and
his blade darted.
I tried to pull back, but stumbled on the slippery cobbles, and he
cut deep into my inner thigh. I almost shouted in pain, but
clenched my teeth, went down, rolling, reaching for my knife.
But it lay nearly five feet away from my scrabbling hand, and I
heard Malebranche's boots come forward, and the next thing I'd
feel would be his knife between my shoulder blades.
I rolled, hand still outstretched, and then, impossibly, my dagger
whirled through the air and was in my hand, and I had a flash
recollection of the spell Tenedos had put on it after the demon-
snake attacked us.
Malebranche was striking at me, but I parried, blade clanging
blade, then smashed both feet up and sent him floundering. I had
my feet under me, and limped toward him.
He struck, and my blade seemed to hum in my grip, reaching out
of its own volition, brushing his thrust aside, gashing open his
chest. Now I saw fear on his face, and he moved back, and I
closed, moving cautiously. Back and back we went, and a stone
wall was not far behind him. He glanced once over his shoulder,
knew he was trapped, and broke.
He hurled his blade at me, and it spun in the air, hitting me in the
chest with the pommel, hurting, but not harming, and he turned
and ran, darting around my guard, heading for another
passageway. He'd shout alarm in seconds, and my hand was in
my pouch, on one of the lead pigs, and I hurled it with all my
strength.
It crashed into the back of his head, and I heard his skull crunch.
He crumpled, and lay motionless. I hobbled to him, and kicked
him over. His face stared up, horrible fear his last expression. I
checked for a pulse, and found none.
The third time had, indeed, been the fortune.
I ran as fast as I was able back to the iron door and lifted the bar.
The door came open and Svalbard stumbled into me. I saw no
sign of Yonge.
"He went to find another way," the big man whispered. He saw
Malebranche's body. "Are there any more?"
I shook my head, just as the hillman ran into sight. He saw the
open door and the two of us, and there was no explanation
needed at the moment. We ripped strips of cloth from my tunic
for crude bandages for my wounded thigh and arm. I felt no pain
nor stiffness, my body reveling in the death of my foe and the
savage joy of battle. We dragged Malebranche's corpse into the
shadows and went through that other corridor and found our goal.
The innermost keep of the castle was built most peculiarly, as a
pentagon, and I remembered the tales of the priests and their
dark magic and wondered if they'd held their ceremonies here. It
was quite empty, which I well understood, feeling the ifi chill and
something else around me. I wondered for a moment how
Chardin Sher and his men could stand the aura I felt, but put it
aside. Perhaps they didn't sense it at all, but I did because I was
an enemy of Kallio. But I had no time for speculation.
I took the flask with the potion and the drawing stick from my
pack, and hurried to the center of the keep. I took a deep breath,
calming my sen , then carefully drew the figure as I'd been
taught.
I finished within a few moments.
I opened up the flask, and upended it over the center of the
symbol I'd made. I gagged; the potion smelled worse than
anyone could imagine, the stink of burning corpses, the reek of
fresh-spilled blood, the moldy odor of long-forgotten tombs filling
my nostrils.
Then the flask was empty.
Tenedos had told me I must flee as quickly as I could once the
spell had set. He said he would feel it begin to work, and begin
his own casting from outside the walls, but we must be away from
the fortress before the incantation took effect, or face the same
doom he hoped to bring on Chardin Sher.
We hurried back through the corridors, making more sound than
we had before. A door opened, a woman peered out, saw the
three of us, and slammed and barred the door as we neared, yet
I heard no outcry.
We retraced our steps, and I marveled I was able to remember
them so precisely, and found the stairs leading up to the inner
wall. Atop it, Karjan, the false sentry, still paced his rounds.
Gladly he doffed his helmet and cloak, cast the spear aside, and
we tied a rope to one of the crenels and went down that sloping
wall into the reservoir.
The icy water hit and burned at my wound, and I knew I'd have
the grace of not feeling pain for only a short time longer.
The rope we'd left hung down into the water, and we pulled our
way upward. I was very glad we'd taken the time to knot it at
intervals before descending.
We untied it, ran to where the wall cracked, doubled a rope
around one of the crenels, and slid down it to the end, pulled one
end of the rope until it fell down to us, then crawled into the crack.
We were about to climb down in a normal manner, but I heard a
roar. At first I though the storm was building, but then realized the
sound came from everywhere, from inside the wall as well as
beyond. We had to take a great chance, and hammered three
iron nails into the stone, looped a rope around them, and tugged.
They held firm, and we used the rope to backwalk down as we
had before, although the chance of a peg pulling free and
dropping us to our deaths was very great. My leg throbbed
agony, but I ignored it.
The nails held, and again and again we did the same, while the
clamor grew and grew, and we could feel the wall vibrating. Once
a peg pulled free, and Karjan almost fell, but he caught himself
and continued down.
I looked down, and saw to my amazement that the ground was no
more than thirty feet below us. One more rope-length, and I
reached for more nails. The wall around me was shaking harder
and harder, and we'd ran out of time.
"Jump!" I shouted, and we sprang out into the blackness. We fell
and fell, and I braced for the crack of breaking bones when we
landed.
But I landed in muck, sliding and tumbling away from the wall,
covering myself from head to foot. I found my footing and ran as
hard as I could, limping, the other three in front of me. Karjan
came back, threw his arm around my shoulders, and we ran on.
I was afraid to stop, afraid to turn and look back. Trees rose in
front of us, and I saw our front lines, and a sentry, fear making his
voice quaver, challenged us.
Yonge shouted the response, but I don't think it would have
mattered, for the man was gaping at the fortress.
Now I allowed myself to stop, my lungs searing, and see what
we'd fled from.
The ground was shaking, as if in an earthquake, and the
thundering was deafening. I saw flames flickering from the f>
stronghold above us, as if the stone itself was burning, yet was
never consumed.
The ground rambled again, and I lost my footing and fell, and
then a bellow reverberated through the night.
A monstrous figure rose through the flames, stretching, growing,
and I saw its V-mouth gaping, fangs glistening. I saw arms, four
of them, each ending in claws, and I swear I could see, even at
this distance, that all of them held men, their screams unhearable
against the din.
The demon, the force, bayed triumph at the skies, finally holding
complete thrall over its kingdom, and lightning flashed down from
the heavens and bathed it.
I heard a whimper, and saw Karjan on his knees, head bowed,
praying, and knew there was no shame in it I also knew the gods
could not be listening on this night.
The monster turned, gazing about, its arms thrashing against the
stone walls, smashing them and sending them tumbling, and
again the demon screamed its joy, and the storm echoed its
howls.
The beast grew and grew, and I feared Tenedos had unleashed
true chaos, and wondered if this could be a male manifestation of
Saionji.
At that moment a bolt of pure energy, a searing blue, as blue as
the finest summer day, came down. It was not lightning, but
appeared like it.
It struck the monster full on the breast, and it screeched, another
bolt came down, the ground shook once more and the demon
was gone, and we were staring at nothing but the night, the storm
raging against the torn stones where a fortress had once reared
proudly, but now there was naught but ruin.
In this manner died Chardin Sher, Mikael Yanthlus, their
sorcerers, retainers, and advisers, although no bodies were ever
found in the wreckage of the citadel.
The war was over.
TWENTY-NINE Return to Nicias With Chardin Sher's death, the
rebellion vanished as if it had never existed. Kallian soldiers
deserted their formations, threw away their weapons, and traded
their uniforms and any money they had for a scrap of clothing that
suggested they'd always been civilians.
Couriers galloped in from the east, carrying the congratulations
of the Rule of Ten, and requesting Seer-General Tenedos to
return home immediately for his triumph.
He refused, saying the victory belonged to all of us, and we
would share in it equally.
We buried our dead, treated our wounded, and made our way
back through Kallio.
At each village and town we were met with cheering citizens, as if
we'd defeated some foreign army. Somewhat bemused, we
marched on, wondering at the fickleness of man.
We diverted toward Polycittara, and its elders, in panic, declared
the capital an open city. They offered tribute. The soldiers would
get an appropriate medal, officers would get silver, and generals,
Tenedos, and the Rule of Ten gold.
Tenedos announced that the Rule of Ten had decided they
needed no more gold, and he would not allow any of his men f, to
accept a tin medal from a former enemy. I grinned when I heard
this, knowing Tenedos certainly hadn't bothered to consult the
Rule of Ten about the matter.
The Polycittarian leaders whimpered, and Tenedos said because
of their intransigence the amount of the tribute was doubled, and
if any further delay was made he would either double it again or
allow the army three days of license in the city.
Within the hour wagonloads of gold, silver, jewels creaked out of
the city's gates toward us, and when the soldiery found out it was
to go to them, rather than far-distant bureaucrats whose only
muscles were in their penhands and asses, they cheered
Tenedos as if he'd personally promised each of them a step up
on the Wheel in their next hves.
Of course, being soldiers they quickly wanted more, and there
were suggestions that we should take the gold and loot the city
anyway, but Tenedos forbade it. There were rumblings of
discontent, and one half-company deserted, determined to
celebrate in their own way.
Tenedos sent the Lancers out after them before they could do
any worse than destroy a tavern, burn a hamlet, and ravage two
women, and marched them back to the army's camp at lance
point.
He called for representatives from each unit to assemble, had
hasty gallows built, marched the entire half-company, plus its
commanding officer, into the great square formed by the
soldiers, and hanged every single one of them. That ended any
further thoughts of freelance mayhem.
He summoned the city elders, told them what he'd done, said he
could have required greater reparations, but he knew the Kallians
would need their gold to rebuild. "Now is the time," he said, "for
all of us to remember we are Numantians. Our dispute is over,
and we are one nation once more."
We marched on, back the way we came. I felt satisfaction when
we crossed the Imru River. We had avenged our defeat and our
dead well.
Orders were waiting at Cicognara. Tenedos must leave the
army and return to Nicias for his honors, or face the displeasure
of his rightful rulers, the Rule of Ten.
Tenedos ignored their order, and sent out commands of his own
by heliograph and messenger. All ships worthy of travel on the
Latane River where to go immediately to Cicognara. He
reiterated what he'd said: All the army would be honored in
Nicias, or none.
There was no response whatsoever to his disobedience from the
Rule of Ten. They huddled in Nicias, afraid of what might come
next.
The ships arrived, wave after wave of them, everything from the
speedy Tauter and her sisters to cargo lighters and yachts, their
arrival marking the coming of spring, the Tune of Births.
We streamed aboard ship, and set out It may sound like we held
to the harsh discipline of the war, but this was far from the case.
As long as a soldier could stumble to a required formation and
be able to stand erect for his duties the exact extent of his
sobriety was ignored. At nightfall there was no roll call, nor did
provosts comb the transports to make sure there was but one set
of legs coming from under a blanket, since many of the ships
had arrived with women or boys who were eager, either for free
or for silver, to thank the army for holding the nation together.
Meals were cooked by quartermasters, but if a man chose to eat
elsewhere at the invitation of a grateful civilian, it mattered little.
I was blind to all the revelry. All I wanted was to return home and
Maran. At least her letters had resumed their regularity. She
wrote at least once, frequently twice a day, and each time mail
met us on our journey north I was inundated with scented
documents of love.
I shook myself out of my fixation, though, and wondered what
would happen when we reached Nicias. What would Tenedos do
next?
His first move was ominousófor the Rule of Ten. As our motley
fleet left the delta, he sent word to each ship that it was not to
dock in Nicias, but rather disembark the troops at the tiny fishing
village of Urgone, upriver from the capital. We
would set up camp there, and not enter Nicias until "the proper
time." It was obvious he intended to keep the army together,
and hold it as a threat in being against the Rule of Ten.
Soldiers aren't stupid, and by now almost everyone realized
something strange was happening, that there was conflict
between the Rule of Ten and Tenedos. Some hotheads were
heard to remark that if it came to that, since they hadn't been
permitted to loot Polycittara, Nicias would be an acceptable
stand-in.
We built a fortified camp, and busied ourselves rebuilding the
army with new uniforms, weapons, supplies. We received
replacements, but Tenedos ordered them into temporary
regiments, saying they'd be permitted to join regular formations
within a short time, but not at the present time. Tenedos didn't
want the fervor of his veterans to be watered down. I sensed he
must move quickly, however, because the army was at high pitch.
Nicians streamed out to meet us, but most of them were politely
told by the sentries they could not enter the camp at the moment.
There were exceptions.
I rode back to my tent one tired afternoon, and found Lance
Karjan waiting. He appeared most smug, and I asked him what
made him so self-satisfied. He smiled more broadly, and said
nothing whatsoever, but I might wish a bath before joining my
officers in the mess. Or, if I chose, I could eat alone. In any
event, I was to hand over my sword and beltógenerals weren't
supposed to look shabby.
I frowned; I was hardly the reclusive sort. I gave him my weapons
belt, told him I'd bathe and change into mess gear and be ready
to eat within the hour, and entered my tent.
Maran stood quickly from the chair she'd been waiting in. She
wore only a thin, white robe with blue flowers on it, and a
matching gown, slit to her upper thigh. Its neckline was low,
curving just above her nipples. She was barefoot.
I saw, hanging from a peg on the crude framework I used for my
wardrobe, her riding costume.
"Welcome home, my husband," she murmured, not looking up at
me.
I was frozen. I'd dreamed of this time and now it had arrived.
She lifted her eyes.
"I... I am sorry," she said. "For what I did."
Once more that punished animal look was on her face. I found
words, and my legs, stepped forward, and took her hands.
"Maran," I said. "You did nothing wrong. Not when I was gone, not
now, not ever.
"I love you."
I saw tears well in her eyes.
"Here," she whispered. "Give me your coat."
I unbuttoned it, and let it slide to the ground. She came close, ran
her fingers over my bandaged forearm and grimaced. Then she
kissed my nipples through my shirt.
"I forgot how sweet you smell when you sweat," she said, and
lifted her head to me.
I smelled flowers as we kissed, and blood began to hammer
against my temples. I put my arms around her, feeling her
warmth through the thin gown. After a time I pulled back slightly.
"Mar&i, grant me a favor. I don't want you to be thinking I'm some
sort of magistrate, judging what you do or don't do. I'm your
partner, not your lord. I'm going to do things wrong... hells, I know
I already have. I'm but human, and expect mercy and
forgiveness, so I guess I'd better grant you the same right, hadn't
I? Please stop being so hard on yourself."
She stared at me, then buried her head against my shoulder. I
felt her tears through my shirt.
"What is the matter?"
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all. I just... I guess I just never
thought I had any right to be happy. I was, for a while. Then our
baby died, and I felt like I was being punished."
"For being happy?'
She nodded.
"Did anybody ever tell you you're silly sometimes?"
She nodded once more. "I know I am."
"And did anyone ever tell you aren't supposed to be crying when
your husband comes home from the wars?"
"I'm soró" and I cut off her words with another kiss. I slid my
hand down her side, til I reached the slit, moved inside it, and
stroked the satin of her buttocks. She didn't move her lips from
mine, but her hands crept up and unbuttoned my shirt, and I let
her loose long enough to slip out of it. I could feel her nipples
firm against my chest.
"I said I wanted something in one of my letters," she said, "and I
mean to have it."
She unbuttoned the fastenings of my trousers, and slipped them
down over my boots. She gasped, seeing my still-bandaged
thigh.
"Oh, my love, they hurt you."
"I'm healing. It hardly bothers me now."
"I shall be your nurse," she said. "And take care of your every
need." She knelt, and touched my rising cock with a finger. "I've
missed you," she murmured, and took its head in her mouth. She
worried me gently with her teeth, then ran her tongue across its
very tip.
"Now, Damastes, if you are as needful as I am, let me taste you,"
and she took me in her mouth, moving her lips down along my
cock's shaft, her tongue coiling, caressing, and I had my hands
around her head, pulling her hair around me, and gasped as my
long-held semen gushed.
She kept moving her head and the joyful agony grew, and then
subsided. She rose to her feet, her mouth wet with me, and
swallowed.
"That was to make sure we would have our full share of
pleasure."
I stood, and embraced her once more. As we kissed, I slid the
robe down from her shoulders, then pulled at the knots holding
her gown up, and it fell about her waist.
Pregnancy had made her breasts grow, and now they
curved like beautiful persimmons. She curled a leg around me,
and rubbed my calf with her heel. My cock stiffened against her
stomach, and she caressed my balls gently.
I carried her to my small camp cot and laid her down on it. I stood
over her, bestriding the cot She lay with her head back, then
opened her eyes and looked up at me, and smiled, dreamily.
She pulled her gown up until it pooled in her lap. She brought one
leg up, then the other, and let her thighs fall apart.
"Did you dream about me, my husband?"
"Every night."
"I dreamed about you, and tried to find a bit of pleasure in my
own ways. But they were nothing compared to you."
Still smiling, she began stroking her sex, and put one finger, then
the other, inside herself, moving them in and out gently.
"I am wet, Damastes," she moaned. "I am ready for you. Come
love me, come fuck me now."
I knelt on the coach, and as I touched her wetness with my cock
she jerked. I entered her, but only until the head was buried, then
moved it slightly in and out.
"All the way, put it in all the way," she said, but I continued the
slight motions. "Oh, love, please, please, it's been so long, oh,
split me, tear me, oh, fuck me!"
I withdrew slightly and she suddenly hooked her heels under the
cot's sideboards, and levered herself up until I was buried in her.
She cried out, and I fell across her, pounding as her hips drove
against me, her hands pulling at my back, her mouth open,
gasping, our wet lips sliding across each other, and we were one
again.
"Soldiers of Numantia," Tenedos's amplified voice boomed
across the vast formation. "You have served your country, and
me, as well.
"I promised you rewards for your sacrifices, and you believed
me, and have been most patient. In Polycittara I gave you a taste
of what I promised. There shall be more, much more, in the days
to come.
K "I shall begin with six of my best soldiers.
"All of them are generals, and richly deserve the rank. They are
heroes as well.
'This day, I am creating a new rank, the rank of tribune. Here is its
symbol of office." He held up an onyx rod, about two feet long,
with silver bands around either end.
The six of us standing at attention before Tenedos were amazed.
There'd been no clues as to why he called this army-wide
formation, nor why he'd called us up from the heads of our own
units.
"My tribunes will hold the highest commands, and will be
answerable only to me.
"Now I shall name them. You know them by name and reputation,
but I shall have a few words to say about each.
"My first tribune shall be Damastes a Cimabue. He was the first
to follow me, and has been the bravest of the brave, from Kiat to
the final destruction of Chardin Sher, serving in every
conceivable way. Tribune d Cimabue, I honor you for your
service."
He walked forward, and handed me the first staff. I heard the
army roar approval behind me. I was incapable of speech, never
having dreamed of such an honor. Tenedos must have known
what I was thinking, because he smiled, and said softly, "You see
what happens when you listen to a madman in a mountain pass?"
I managed to salute, and he stepped back. The others would
come to him.
"The second is General Hern, a man who has always led from
the front, always obeying my commands, and always providing an
example." Hern received his baton as well.
"The third is General Myrus Le Balafre, our best swordsman and
a man who leads by example. He needs no medals, for his
scarred body shows how he has given his life to Numantia." Le
Balafre took his baton, and walked back beside me. I whispered
congratulations, and he nodded thanks. "I guess I'll stay around
for the peace," he replied. "Life looks like it shall be interesting
now."
"The fourth," Tenedos's voice thundered, "is General
Yonge. I wish all who are not native Numantians to note this
honor, and recognize that there shall be no prejudice for or
against people from one state or another, nor against those who
choose to enter my service from other nations." I was waiting for
Yonge to shout something outrageous, but the occasion seemed
to have overwhelmed him. Knuckling tears from the corner of his
eyes, he took the baton and stumbled back to our small
formation, forgetting to salute the seer-general.
"The fifth is General Cyrillos Iinerges, who returned to the army in
its hour of need, and has risen through the ranks rapidly as he
proved again and again his leadership and bravery." Linerges, an
arm still bandaged from the battle with the Kallian Army, beamed.
"My final appointment is to General Petre, a man who fights as
hard with his brain as his sword. He should be a study for you
young officers that time spent studying Ihe art of war instead of
gaming or wenches can be profitable. General Petre has done
as much to form this army as anyone, and this is his reward."
Petre, humorless as ever, marched to Tenedos, took the baton,
saluted snappily, and about-faced. He saw me looking at him,
and a smile crossed his face for just an instant Then his
expression became as wooden as usual and he returned to
ranks.
"Six men," Tenedos said. "They are but the beginning, and an
example. I know there are men out there listening who shall one
day carry this black rod, and further honor themselves, their
family, their state, and all Numantia."
"That," Tenedos said, "was the first arrow of my campaign."
"So the Rule of Ten knows nothing about your creating this new
rank?"
"They do now."
"What do you suppose they shall do?"
"I'm not sure. That's why I asked you to join me with the special
detail I asked for."
That "special detail," nearly men, rode behind us as we clattered
into the outskirts of Nicias. They were all volunteers,
* then hand-combed for toughness of mind and body. There
were almost as many officers as enlisted men. Among them
were Tribune Yonge, Domina Bikaner, and hard fighters like
Regimental Guide Evatt, Sergeants Karjan, Svalbard, and Curti,
and others I knew not but whose dedication had been attested to
by their officers.
They carried not only their swords, but daggers and, hidden
under their dress uniforms, truncheons.
Tenedos had personally given them their orders before we rode
out of camp, and told them they could be called in various-sized
groups, and then named men to each group.
We were heading for the Palace of the Rule of Ten.
"I am delighted," Speaker Barthou said, "to honor you, Seer-
General Tenedos, for having served us so well."
"I served not only you, sir, but our homeland of Numantia."
Tenedos stood in the center of the great audience chamber. I
stood just behind and to one side, as he'd ordered.
"We have arranged a great triumph for the army," Barthou went
on, "then feasts, ceremonies, celebrations, all that Nicias can do
to show its gratitude." There were cheers, and for the first time
Barthou appeared to notice that the balconies were full of
soldiers in uniform. He looked worried.
"We thank you," Tenedos said. "But in fact there is more Nicias
can do, and must if proper honor is to be shown. Brave service is
best rewarded with real gifts."
"What do you mean?" Barthou looked upset; this was clearly not
going as planned.
"First, gold. Pensions for the men who must be invalided out of
service. Compensation for men who were crippled, losing an
arm, an eye, or whatever. More, sir. Numantia is a vast country,
and there is much land unworked. I would suggest that the Rule
of Ten grant small holdings to those veterans who leave the
service."
"That's unheard of!" Barthou blurted. I looked at Scopas,
Tenedos's sometimes ally, and he, too, looked surprised, then a
calculating expression crossed his face.
Boos and shouts came from the gallery. The Rule of Ten's
guards looked more nervous than their masters. Tenedos turned,
and stared up at the soldiers, and there was an instant silence.
Before Barthou could continue, Scopas rose.
"Excuse me, Speaker. But, as you say, the noble seer-general
has presented some unusual ideas. I think we should withdraw
and consider them."
Someone shouted from the balcony, "How long, y' bassids? Y'
gonna forget about us like allus?"
Scopas looked up and addressed the anonymous jeerer.
"We shall be out for less than an hour, sir. You have my
promise."
Barthou was about to protest, but I saw Scopas move his head
slightly.
"Very well. Within the hour."
The Rule of Ten filed out.
"Before we continue," Barthou said, "I have some
announcements to make." The man looked gray, ashen, as if his
life had been threatened.
"First, let us congratulate the men Seer-General Teredos
proclaimed tribunes. We find this a worthy idea, and are sorry we
did not devise it ourselves."
The Rule of Ten turned their attention to me. I kept my face
blank, but I thought, So, you are trying to woo me, and the other
five as well. What will you offer?
"We wish to offer our own rewards as well," Barthou went on. "I
note that GenóTribune a Cimabue, Count Agramonte, is with us.
Tribune, it honors us greatly to name you life-baron. We invite
you to choose the remainder of your title at your leisure.
"We also wish to give all tribunes an annual salary of fifty
thousand gold coins and will provide estates as well, these
estates to be maintained by the government.
"Baron and Tribune a Cimabue, Count Agram nte, since you
were the first to be named to the rank, we grant you the Water
Palace, to be used as you see fit during your lifetime.
* "Other tribunes will be given similar gifts.
"Now, Seer-Generaló"
"Before you give me anything," Tenedos interrupted, "what of the
land grants I spoke of?"
"They shall be made, sir," Scopas said. "We shall set up a
commission to begin giving these grants out within a year."
Tenedos stared at him.
"A year, eh? That should be discussed. But go on."
I heard a rumble from the troops in the balconies.
Scopas indicated to Barthou he had the floor again.
"Seer-General Tenedos," Barthou said, "you are created a
hereditary baron, and one hundred thousand gold coins per year
and an estate for your reward now, with other honors to follow."
Barthou paused, expecting, no doubt, Tenedos to babble thanks.
But the seer said, coldly, "That is not nearly adequate."
"What?"
"I think we should withdraw to your chambers once more and
discuss this matter," the sorcerer said.
"There's no need to do that," Barthou protested.
"This situation is entirely out of hand," his newly appointed
lapdog, Timgad, blurted.
"No," Tenedos corrected. "The matter is well under control, in
spite of what you gentlemen think. Now, shall we retire for a few
moments?"
There was hasty agreement. The Rule of Ten rose, and started
for the exit. Tenedos turned to me and signaled.
'Tribune?"
I spun. 'Ten men!" I shouted, and there was a clatter as soldiers
ran down the stairs from the gallery. Among them were Svalbard
and Karjan.
"What is thisT Timgad protested.
"You shall find out shortly." Timgad was apoplectic, and Scopas
took his arm and dragged him out.
"How could you bring armed soldiers into our most private
chambers?" Barthou hissed.
"I invited them because I don't trust you," Tenedos said calmly.
"However, I mean them only as personal protection, not as a
threat."
I nearly smiled, knowing the ten hard men against the wall behind
me hardly presented a pacifistic image.
"So what is it you desire?" Scopas said. "This matter, as Timgad
said, is getting out of hand."
"Many things. We shall start with what's been said already. The
matter of land for my soldiers shall be handled immediately, not
within a year or so. Second, those whom you name barons, like
Tribune a Cimabue, shall be given hereditary ranks, instead of
the shameful life-peerages."
"How dare you dictate to us?" Barthou shrilled.
"I dare, because of those men who stand behind me. I dare,
because I am a true Numantian. I dare ... because I dare."
"Go on," Scopas said grimly.
"You are given forty-eight hours from this moment. At the end of
that time, you are to announce that the Rule of Ten is withdrawing
from actively governing to an advisory position, and that you have
finally found the emperor you were ordered to name, and
supposedly have been seeking all these decades."
"And what if we don't?"
Tenedos stared at Barthou until he looked away.
"A year ago, the army was in the streets of Nicias, doing your
bidding, bringing peace," he said. "If you do not obey my orders,
it shall rule Nicias with the sword once more.
"And you shall bitterly rue the consequences.
"You cannot change what will happen. I shall be emperor, with or
without your bumbling approval. The time has come for changes,
and I have been chosen by Saionji to make them.
'Think well, think wisely," Tenedos said grimly. "For the blood
shall be on your hands."
Without farewell, without salute, he stalked out, paying no heed to
the gabble and shouts from behind.
THIRTY The Crown I stood beside the altar, the high priest at my
side. He held a heavy box in his arms, a box made of solid gold
and crusted with gems.
The huge temple was full. Every nobleman and -woman who
could reach Nicias packed its main floor and balconies.
The center aisle was lined with soldiers. All of them were tribunes
or generals.
Trumpets blared, the great doors opened, and Tenedos entered
as the audience stood. Instead of seer's robes, he wore the
simple uniform of an army officer, but without badges of rank or
decorations.
Music from an unseen orchestra swelled, and Tenedos paced
slowly toward the altar. As he passed each officer, the man knelt
in obeisance, and the men and women behind them bowed
humbly.
He reached the foot of the altar and stopped.
"Are you the man named Laish Tenedos?" the priest asked.
"I am he."
"You are chosen by the Rule of Ten, in the names of Umar, of
Irisu, of... of Saionji," the priest stumbled over the last-minute
addition to the ritual, and I heard gasps from the audience, "of
Panoan, and all the rest of those mighty beings who created and
watch over Numantia, to lead us.
"Laish Tenedos, I require you to promise that you shall
govern wisely and well, frequently consulting the gods to ensure
you rule in wisdom, mercy, and justice, never treating your
subjects with cruelty or disdain, never leading them into war
without justification."
"I so vow."
"Then I proclaim you emperor of Numantia."
He opened the box and took out the single gold circlet.
'Tribune Damastes a Cimabue, Baron Damastes of Ghazi, Count
Agramonte, you have been chosen the most worthy to crown the
emperor. Take this diadem from my hands, and place it on your
ruler's brow."
I lifted the circlet. As I did, I saw Maran in the audience, her face
a beacon of love and hope.
I placed the circlet on Tenedos's brow, then knelt, bowing my
head.
And that was how came to the throne.
On that day we stood on the summit of the highest mountain. All
the world's glory spread below us.
It was the beginning of the end.
About the Author is the co-author (with Allan Cole) of the Sten
series and the bestselling Anteros trilogy. As a solo writer, he is
the author of the Shadow Warrior science fiction series from Del
Rey. Both Ranger and airborne-qualified, he was part of the first
troop correspondent for Stars and Stripes. He edited outlaw
motorcycle magazines and, as a freelancer, wrote for everything
from the underground press to Look magazine, Rolling Stone,
and prime-time television. He is now a full-time novelist living in
Washington State.