19

Eastmaw Mountains, Khale

WHEN THE SOLDIER’S SCREAMS faded to whimpers, Publio Kyfer knew it was time to talk.

Not that the man could really be called a soldier. A good soldier would always stand tall, back straight, chin up, even after a flogging. Kyfer had never cowered the way this man did, curling into a ball as the chains that had kept his arms spread apart between two posts were unlocked, blubbering like a baby. A flogging bloody hurt—that was the point, of course—and it drained a man, too, but it was nothing to sob over. Kyfer had been flogged, and taken wounds a dozen times worse, and had yet to shed a single tear over it.

“Bring him to me,” Kyfer said. His soldiers—real soldiers— lifted the man by the arms and half dragged, half carried him to where Kyfer stood a few rods away.

The faint smell of smoke on the air still stung Kyfer’s eyes. Around him were the smoking remains of what had once been a thriving village. It was a shame to lay waste to a part of Khale’s economy, however small, but such actions were necessary when the village willingly housed traitors to the republic.

Kyfer’s soldiers threw the man at his feet in a cloud of dust. Dirt already caked the man’s bloodied back, and mud and sweat covered his face. The man groaned, and Kyfer rolled his eyes.

Kyfer crouched down, bringing his face closer to the man’s level. He almost reared back at the overwhelming smell of shit, sweat, and blood, but pushed through it.

“Are you ready to talk?”

The man looked up at Kyfer, and the beginning of another sob escaped his lips before he caught himself, choking it down.

“I… I told you I was willing to talk…”

“That was halfway through the beating,” Kyfer said impatiently. “I could not very well curtail your punishment just because you changed your mind after it had begun. Actions have consequences, my friend. We can never escape consequences.”

The man whimpered again as Kyfer stood. “Tell me what you know about the remaining rebels, and your punishment can end.”

The man looked up at Kyfer, saliva slowly leaking down his chin, dripping to the dust in long, viscous strands.

Disgusting.

“A cave,” he rasped, head bobbing. “A cave on the southern side of the mountain, near the peak. They’ll be holed up there… waiting for you to leave.”

“You are sure?” Kyfer asked.

The man’s head bobbed more quickly.

“And can you take us there yourself?”

“No… need. The cave is easy to find. A path leads up the face of the mountain, and there is a hidden fork… you’ll know it by the rihnemin…”

“Very well. Thank you for your honesty, my friend.”

“Please,” the man said, reaching up to Kyfer. “Help me. I have a family—”

Kyfer raised one knee and brought his heel down onto the man’s face with such force that blood splattered in all directions in the dirt. He groaned something unintelligible, so Kyfer slammed his heel twice more into the man’s face.

“Be grateful,” Kyfer told the corpse. “If you’d lied to me, your death would not have been nearly so painless.”

He had, of course, received the same information this man had just given him from several other villagers. Some had told him freely, others had taken some persuasion, just as this man had. But so many voices confirming the same thing was good news; they were likely to root out the rest of the rebels within the day, and perhaps Kyfer would finally receive some well-deserved recognition.

“General Kyfer.”

Kyfer turned to see his telenic, Genio, with forearm extended forward and bent across his chest in the Khalic salute. While Genio was one of the Nazaniin, he was also conscripted into the Khalic army, and took orders from Kyfer. Through Genio and the other two in his Nazaniin cotir, Kyfer could communicate instantly with his superiors in Triah. The price he paid for the convenience was that all such communication passed through Nazaniin operatives—who might, in some cases, be more loyal to the Citadel than to the House of Aldermen.

Kyfer returned Genio’s salute, then walked over to a patch of grass and began wiping the heel of his boot.

“What is it, Nazaniin?”

“Grand Marshal Carrieri wishes to speak with you.”

Shit. It wasn’t a request. Carrieri never made requests.

“Very well.” Satisfied his boot was clean enough, Kyfer nodded. “Lead the way.”

They walked through the charred remains of the village, towards the clearing in the mountain forest where most of the Steel Regiment had made camp. They were in the middle of the Eastmaw Mountains, south of Cineste. Kyfer was grateful for the mountain assignment; summer had all but arrived, and the cool air made him feel at home.

“I assume the Grand Marshal did not tell you what this was about?”

“No,” Genio said, shaking his head. Genio was a short man, but tough and stout. Not a man Kyfer would fancy fighting against, telesis or no.

“Of course he didn’t,” Kyfer muttered. He could not imagine it would be something good. He and the Grand Marshal did not have the greatest of relationships. Carrieri had actively fought Kyfer’s promotion to general. It had only gone through with the help of the Parliament.

Genio led Kyfer to the Nazaniin tent. Kyfer ducked through the entrance to find his other two Nazaniin, Ila and Pruse, lounging within.

“Let’s get this over with,” Kyfer said.

“He’s here.” Ila was the acumen, and she was not looking at Kyfer. Her eyes were glazed over, and she stared out at nothing.

Shit. Whatever this was, it was important enough to keep the Grand Marshal of all of Khale waiting to speak with Kyfer. He was suddenly very glad he had not resisted Genio’s summons.

“General Kyfer,” Ila said, although she was not looking at Kyfer but rather past him, “this is Grand Marshal Carrieri.”

Kyfer saluted immediately, even though Carrieri could not see him. Only psimancers could communicate through the Void, and neither he nor Carrieri were psimancers. So they had to communicate through respective spokespeople, two Nazaniin acting as translators, more or less. The acumen on the other end, whoever it was, could see Kyfer, and he or she would be doing exactly what Kyfer did, copying his body language and speech patterns as accurately as possible to ensure communication was as clear as possible. Ila, on Kyfer’s end, would in turn mimic Carrieri’s every move. Kyfer had long gotten over the strangeness of seeing Ila—a short woman, even shorter than Genio, and as petite as they came—act with the authority and power of Riccan Carrieri. Ila pulled it off rather well, all things considered.

“Grand Marshal,” Kyfer said, relaxing when Ila saluted in return, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?”

“Do not patronize me, General. We both know how little we enjoy one another’s company. I have orders for you, and these come directly from the Parliament.”

Kyfer tried to keep his face still—many acumens even mimicked facial expressions—but could not stop his eyes from widening just a bit. Kyfer was used to taking orders from Carrieri, but even then they usually came through one of the other generals.

Orders from the Parliament were another matter entirely.

“I live to serve the will of the people,” Kyfer said.

“A large group of tiellans have left the city of Cineste,” Ila said, speaking for Carrieri. “A thousand, maybe more. On their way out of the city…”

Here Ila hesitated, and Kyfer wondered whether the hesitation was some hiccup in the communication process through the Void, or something on Carrieri’s part. Communicating through the Goddess-damned Nazaniin was incredibly frustrating.

“On their way out of the city,” Ila continued, “they encountered a cohort of the Cinestean City Watch. The tiellans demolished that force, and are now making their way east, towards the plains.”

Kyfer tried not to seem surprised by the information. Tiellan–human relations were bad and getting worse, but he had not expected something so drastic.

“Your orders are to move the Steel Regiment north.”

Kyfer felt a rush.

“Monitor the tiellans. Send us intelligence. We will send you further orders when we have discerned more about the situation.”

As quickly as the rush came, it subsided. “If they have destroyed one cohort, they surely could do worse to other groups, other towns and cities…”

“You are not to engage them,” Ila said. Clearly, Carrieri understood Kyfer’s implication. “Not unless they put the lives of other Khalic citizens in danger. Is that understood, Kyfer?”

“Yes,” Kyfer said, although his mind was already working on engineering a way to make that happen. If he waited for the tiellans to do something on their own, he might wait a lifetime. But if he could add another victory to his imminent one in Eastmaw, he’d return to Triah a hero. “I understand.”

“Good. Monitor them. Trail them. But do not engage. That is all, General. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again,” Kyfer muttered. By the time they met again, it would be on equal footing, if Kyfer had anything to say about it.