I never should’a played politics,” the bandit who called himself Slit-Nose grumbled, and spat bloody teeth. “Thievin’s never so dirty, an’ worst it’ll get you is a clean death.”
“You’ll have your death,” Kutulu promised. “When you’ve told us everything — and we’re sure it’s the truth.”
“There’s naught more t’ tell,” the man Kutulu had taken said. “Th’ man said he’d pay us good red gold, an’ did. All we had to do was scrag those so’jers for him.”
“Who was he?”
“I told you, an’ I told that dogfucker who’s been beatin’ on me I don’t know. He come to us, knew our hideout, knew th’ places we’d been, knew me by name, an’ was willin’ to pay. A’ready had Oswy’s people convinced, but needed more thieves. Wanted to make sure nobody got away. I asked what th’ band thought. Pickin’s been slender since th’ war. Ain’t none got coppers, let alone gold an’ silver t’ be thieved.
“We’d been thinkin’ about goin’ on east, into Wakhijr, an’ tryin’ our luck there. ‘Stead …” Slit-Nose spat blood again and wiped his face. He looked distastefully at his shattered fingers. “Don’t guess those’ll ever hold a blade again, now will they?”
I wanted to turn away and vomit, as much from the stink of the chamber as what the torturers had done to this thief, but forced myself not to.
“I never had no use for you gods-damned Nicians anyway. Paradin’ around actin’ like you wouldn’t say shit if you had a mouthful, so th’ thought of puttin’ you on th’ long journey to Saionji sounded pretty right.”
Kutulu’s inquisitor raised his knout. I held up a hand.
“Let him speak on.”
“ ‘Sides, killin’ sojers is good trade.”
“Why? We seldom have money.”
“Killin’ a sojer makes th’ dirt eaters think you’re on their side. You know, like you’re some kinda hero then, an’ maybe they won’t turn you in, first chance they hear of a reward.”
I stepped back, curiosity satisfied. Kutulu frowned — I’d had no business breaking the rhythm of his questions.
“What did this sorcerer call himself?”
“Didn’t give a name.”
“What was he dressed like?”
“Rich. Dark brown breeches, tunic. Had a cloak in th’ same color over it. Must’ve had a spell on it, ‘cause it looked t’ be wool, but cast off th’ rain like it was oiled. Had two men with him. Rough-lookin'. Bodyguards.”
“So he paid you, and you did his bidding?”
“We did.”
“Did he pay the villagers, too?”
“Hell, no. Tol’ th’ menfolk t’ get outa the village, an’ hide in th’ woods till th’ next day. Guess they thought we wuz gonna tear th’ town down an’ take their women. Would’a, too, but th’ wizard stopped us. Guess he put some kinda spell over us, ‘cause when th’ so’jers showed up, they treated us like we wuz no more’n peasants. Th’ wizard said he’d give th’ sign, an’ he did.”
Kutulu looked at me.
“Do you want any details of what happened next?”
“What was it like, being a snake?” I asked, somewhat irrelevantly.
A most evil smile came across Slit-Nose’s face. “It was nice. ‘Specially havin’ all your thoughts wi’ you, not like a dumb, real serpent. You could move like lightnin', an’ th’ swords never struck home. Mebbe,” and he managed a chuckle, “mebbe when I reach th’ Wheel th’ goddess’ll think bein’ a snake’d be proper punishment for a rogue like me. I’d like that, I would.”
The inquisitor saw Kutulu’s nod, and the knout slashed down on the thief’s gore-splattered back. He gargled a scream, and his head sagged. A bucket of water went across his face, bringing him back.
“You’ll be respectful when you speak to the Tribune,” the warden said.
“Was this the only task the sorcerer wanted of you?” Kutulu asked.
“You ast me all these questions a’ready,” Slit-Nose complained.
“I did. And I may ask them another dozen times, to make sure you’re telling the truth. Now answer me!”
“He said there’d be other jobs like this ‘un.”
“How would he contact you?”
“He said he’d know how.”
“Could you find him?”
Slit-Nose hesitated, then shook his head. Again the whip ribboned his flesh. “No,” the man moaned. “Not direct, anyway.”
“Explain yourself.”
“That ring I was wearin'? Th’ one this bastard wi’ th’ whip stole?”
The torturer started to snarl something. Kutulu’s hand came up, and the man’s mouth snapped shut.
“Go on.”
“Th’ wizard took my ring for a bit, then give it back, sayin’ he laid a spell on it. If somethin’ came, an’ I needed t’ find him, I was to hold it to my forehead an’ think of him. He’d come, or one of his men’d find me.”
Kutulu stood. “You,” he said to the torturer. “I’ll have a word with you. Outside, if you please.”
The burly man’s eyes widened in fear. I followed them out, slamming the cell door. Behind me, I heard a low chuckle of evil glee from the bandit.
The torturer was twice Kutulu’s size, but cowered before his master.
“The ring,” Kutulu said.
The torturer started to protest innocence, but under Kutulu’s hard gaze his hand went, as if self-willed, into his pouch, and came out with a heavy silver ring.
“I di’n't think,” he started. Kutulu cut him off.
“Exactly. You did not think. This is the first time I’ve had to reprimand you, Ygerne. There isn’t a second time. Steal from me, from the state, once more, and I’ll put you on the road back to Nicias alone and on foot, with your trade branded across your forehead!”
Ygerne paled. He’d be lucky to make it out the gates of Polycittara alive with a sentence like that. Kutulu turned to me. “The tale of the ring is the only new information, Tribune, so I think we have all that man knows. Do you wish anything more?”
Only out of this terrible dank stone dungeon, away from its rusting iron and hopeless sobs and screams. I shook my head, and we went up endless flights of stairs, with guards at each barred landing, and at last came out into the great courtyard. I breathed clean air and thanked my family god Tanis for the rain that pelted across my face, washing away the memory of what was below.
Kutulu was examining the ring. “So what can we do with this?” he wondered.
“We do nothing,” I told him. “We don’t try to use it at all. If this wizard’s as careful as I suspect, he’ll have laid some sort of counterspell, so if the wrong person attempts to use it he’ll either be alerted or possibly even send a demon against the interloper. Put that ring in a safe place. Don’t wear it, don’t try to use it for anything until I report what happened to the emperor. We may need far greater magic than we have access to in Kallio.”
“I reluctantly admit your wisdom, although I don’t like having to beg for help from Nicias,” Kutulu said after consideration. “Shall I get a report ready for a courier?”
“No,” I said. “There’s something far quicker, if chancier.” The emperor had said no one was to be told about the Seeing Bowl, but sometimes orders are made to be broken, and as I spoke I realized two others would now have to be told. “We’ll have to take a chance this sorcerer may be able to eavesdrop on the sending, for we must move at once before he learns the killers are taken and flees.”
“Very well,” Kutulu said. “With the emperor’s help, we’ll give him a real surprise when he encounters a different sort of serpent.” He smiled, and I laughed, for I’d not known he was aware of his sobriquet.
• • •
In bed that night I told Marán a somewhat edited version of what had happened in the dungeon.
“Do you think you’ll find this seer?”
It was quiet and peaceful, with no sound outside our high window but the drum of rain and the occasional comfortable challenge of the sentries as they walked their post. She had her head on my shoulder, her hand cradling my cock.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it’ll be a matter of magic against magic, and I know little in that area.”
“But it’ll be the emperor’s magic?”
“I think so.”
“Then we’ll find him,” she said confidently. “Maybe he’ll tell you how to track down some other people.”
“Like who?”
“Like all these elders and counts and so on and so forth that don’t seem to be around. Don’t you think something’s very odd about that?”
“Surely. But there’s been the war, and then we’ve occupied Kallio. Maybe those who lived through the madness have good reason to keep low.”
“Of course they do. And I’ll bet I can tell you what it is. Ruling, or at any rate being noble, is something I know something about.”
“Go on.” I was suddenly wide awake. Marán was right — she had generations of gentility in her bones.
“Start with something basic,” she said. “A lord likes being a lord.”
“Never imagined he didn’t.”
“I mean he likes it more than almost anything. Change that to a lot more than anything. So what made all these people suddenly duck into the nearest badger hole, instead of just changing lords to bow and scrape to and being able to keep on being noble?” Marán sat up quickly. Even in the dimness, I could see the excitement on her face. “The only way Lord Hibble and Lady Hobble would go to ground like the hounds were after them, instead of wanting to cut whatever slice of Prince Reufern’s pie they could, is they’ve been ordered to keep low. Either they’re afraid, or they’ve been promised something — and knowing bluebloods, it’ll have to come quickly to keep them in line.”
“But who could promise them — or threaten them — with something like that?”
“Maybe your magician?”
“Hmm.”
She lay down again. “But probably I’m not making any sense, and just imagining things.”
Marán was like that — a sudden burst of perception, and then a huge wave of self-doubt would strike. For a time I thought she’d been beaten down by that utter shit she’d been married to before me, but lately I wondered if maybe it came from her family. It didn’t seem, from the little time I’d spent around her father and brothers, that a woman’s ideas were especially welcome in the Agramónte world.
“Don’t talk like that about yourself,” I warned, and slapped her bottom. She yelped in mock pain, and snuggled closer.
“Now, that’s something we haven’t done!”
“I didn’t know there was anything left,” I said.
“Let’s see … silk ropes tying me facedown, spread-eagled so I can’t move,” she said, her voice becoming throaty. “I’m blindfolded, and gagged, so I’m utterly helpless. There’s a bolster under my hips, and your cock is buried in me. I can feel your balls against me.” Her breathing came a little faster. “Then you have a whip, and it’s silk, too. You stroke me with it, then you hit me, and it stings. Then you move in me, hard, then lash me again, again and again.”
My cock was getting hard, then, very suddenly, I remembered another whip, one wielded not in passion, and the broken face of the bandit in the reeking dungeons below us, and my passion died.
“Very well,” I said. “Put it on our list.” We had a mythical list of things we hadn’t yet managed in bed — some of which would require more apparatus than a siege — that one of us had heard of and, giggling, told the other about.
I yawned and let sleep approach, listening to the rain.
“Damastes,” Marán said, “can I ask you something?”
“Anything, so long as it lets me go to sleep pretty soon.”
“How much longer will we be doing this?”
“Fucking like bunny rabbits? I hope forever.”
“No, you loon. I meant you being a general and never having any time to be at home.”
“That’s the lot of a soldier,” I said. “I go where the emperor wishes, when he wishes. That’s the oath I took.”
“Forever?”
“Oh, I suppose one of these years I’ll get tired. Maybe have too many creaks and groans to take the field.” I’d been about to say wounds, but caught myself. “Then you’ll have more than enough time to get tired of me.”
“I hope so,” she murmured, then sighed. “Good night, my love.”
“Good night.” I kissed the top of her head.
For a time I lay awake, wondering what her last words meant. I’d known women who married soldiers not realizing the nature of their trade, and then grew hateful about it. But that wasn’t Marán. She was far too bright, and her family had spent all too many years in the service of Numantia, as diplomats and governors. Besides, given the nature of my trade, it was highly unlikely I’d live to see retirement anyway. Some barbarian’s arrow would keep me from having to worry about old age. Strangely comforted with the thought of dying in my prime, dying well, hopefully at the head of my soldiers in battle, and being commended by Isa to Saionji when I returned to the Wheel, although I couldn’t imagine what a better life could be, I fell asleep.
• • •
The next morning I told Kutulu of Marán’s thoughts about vanishing nobility.
“The baroness is even brighter than she is lovely,” he said.
“I certainly know that. But what made you realize it?”
“One task when I arrived here was to examine the archives of Kallio. That, of course, is a task that’d take an army of clerks an eternity, but I set three men to checking events of the last ten years, which they’re still at. Perhaps if we understand the history of this caterwauling province we might be able to rule it more effectively. What they’ve found is less impressive than what they haven’t found. The records had been tooth-combed, and almost anything to do with Chardin Sher’s court has been removed. I suppose, in time, we can find duplicates, or memoranda with court members’ names on them in the central records in Nicias, but time is something we’re a bit short of.
“My chief clerk thinks, interestingly enough, this destruction was done after Chardin Sher was first defeated beyond the Imru River and began retreating.”
“That makes no sense,” I said. “That’d mean that Chardin Sher knew he was beaten after the first battle, yet wanted his satraps to be able to go underground and fight on.”
“Chardin Sher … or someone else,” Kutulu said.
“Such as?”
“Perhaps our mysterious seer knows. I really wish to have converse with him, for your wife’s contribution confirms what these files suggest by their absence — that there are two conspiracies here in Kallio. One is the mob, the spontaneous risings.
“The other is far more serious and is composed of the surviving members of Kallio’s ruling class, who are hidden waiting the day and the signal to rise up and destroy every vestige of imperial rule. That is the conspiracy that really frightens me.”
• • •
“Hold the object up so I can see it,” the emperor ordered. “Just for a moment, though, in case we’re being observed.” I obeyed, turning Slit-Nose’s ring this way and that over the Seeing Bowl. “I think your brigand was telling the truth,” he said. “It’s nothing innately magical. Probably the thief took it in a robbery and the person we seek then laid an incantation on it, to make it into a talisman. Now, if you’ll move out of the way, so I may speak to your seers?”
I motioned Sinait and Edwy forward. Both showed considerable awe. Edwy probably would have seen the emperor in person, since he was part of Reufern’s household, but I knew Sinait had not.
“Here is what we shall attempt,” Tenedos said, sounding like the careful teacher he’d been. “A certain spell comes to mind that I learned in a village back in my youth, from someone who called herself a witch-finder.” He held up a scroll. “Both of you write down, quickly, what is on this parchment. I must not say the words, for fear of being overheard.”
The two wizards obeyed, their lips silently forming letters as they wrote. Sinait finished first, and Edwy a moment behind her. Seeing them look up, Emperor Tenedos put the scroll aside.
“Read what you have written now. I tried to make the instructions as clear as I could.”
They did as told. “This one word,” Sinait asked. “Meveern? Shouldn’t it be Maverhn?”
“No,” Tenedos said. “That would call, not send. You’re attempting to reverse the incantation.”
“I’m not sure,” the older man said, “what, if this works, will be produced.”
Tenedos looked exasperated, exactly like a lycée instructor trying to help a not particularly swift pupil, then caught himself. “You’ll be drawn in a certain direction, toward the one who cast the spell on that ring.”
“We’ll be like a compass needle, Edwy,” Sinait said. Obviously she understood quite well. Edwy looked embarrassed and nodded.
“Cast the spell as I told you, write down what it gives you, then break it instantly,” Tenedos continued. “This incantation is an open path. Don’t give this unknown one a chance to use it against you.”
“I, at least, will move like the wind,” Sinait said, smiling.
“Cast it once,” Tenedos continued. “Then Tribune á Cimabue will escort you to another location, at least fifty miles from where you are now, and you’ll cast the spell again. Lay those two directions out on a map …”
“… and our villain’ll be at the intersection,” Sinait said excitedly.
“Exactly.” Tenedos smiled warmly. Sinait blushed like a young girl just paid her first compliment.
“Now I wish to speak to the tribune privately,” the emperor said, and the two seers and Kutulu bowed out.
“I’m not sure this is going to work,” Tenedos said. “The man we seek is very careful. I’m already considering other things we might attempt if this fails.”
“If it succeeds, what do we do next?”
“Take him alive,” the emperor said.
“I’ve never tried that before,” I said. “I understand trapping wizards is a bit like catching a serpent in your bare hands. You think you have him, but the question is whether or not he has you instead.”
The emperor grinned. “I’ll prepare incantations to be laid by your seers on devices to make sure this particular serpent’s fangs are blunted so he won’t be able to slither out of your grasp.
“But he must be taken, and alive. I sense he’s the linchpin, the key for many things that have troubled Numantia, things that must be ended at once!”
• • •
That night the spell was cast from a turreted room in one of the castle’s towers. The bare room held only seven tall braziers of wrought iron and, between them, seven candelabra of the same material, in a large circle. Semicircles were drawn on all the walls, each figure about three feet in diameter. In each a different symbol was chalked. In the center of the room a large triangle was laid out, with an arc drawn at each angle. Along the sides words were written, in a script I didn’t know. Herbs had been assembled: goldenseal, hyssop, rock rose, wintergreen, white willow, others, to be burnt in the braziers.
The incantation was quite simple, Sinait told me. The emperor’s instructions said its potency depended more on repetition than length.
Edwy was clad in dark robes worked with silver and gold devices, representing star formations, magical tools, and such, tied with a spun-gold belt, very much the wealthy court magician. Sinait wore her usual brown.
I’d been greatly concerned with what Tenedos had said about danger. Sinait said she doubted they’d need help, but Edwy told me rather nervously, that it might be well to have soldiers ready, so I had ten men, including Karjan, standing by in light armor, weapons ready, on the narrow, winding stairs. What use they, or I, would be against a sorcerous opponent, I had no idea. But it was better than doing nothing.
The heavy oak door boomed shut, and we waited outside. And waited some more. None of us was bored, but we were increasingly ill at ease. I heard a wind building, and looked out a loophole. But the air was still. It was near dawn. The wind song grew louder and louder still, and I heard a man shout from within. My sword was in my hand as the shout became a cry of surprise and then pain. Sinait screamed, and I yanked at the door handle, but they’d barred it from within. I slammed against the door with my shoulder. The stout wood never budged. I hit it again, then was unceremoniously yanked away by Lance-Major Svalbard, a huge bruiser of a man. He smashed a great mace against the door twice, high and low; the hinges ripped and the door fell away.
Edwy sprawled in a sea of blood at one corner of the triangle. Seer Sinait was backed against the wall. Moving purposefully toward her was a huge warrior, far taller than I, wearing the armor of the Kallian Army of nine years before. He turned his head toward me, his eyes were pools of burning fire, his face a swirl of black.
A throwing ax whistled past and thudded into the being’s armor with a clang. He was solid enough, at any rate. The spirit or demon turned away from the seer and rushed me, broadsword held like a spear. I parried, and felt solid steel. Then the warrior slashed, and I was barely able to turn his thrust aside.
I struck at his thigh, and my blade bounced off his armor as if it were a foot thick. Again he, or it, brought his sword down, and I sprang sideways as the blade smashed into the stone floor, sparks cascading.
I remembered a bit of what Tenedos had taught me of magic, and, instead of attacking the demon directly, I cut at the triangle’s edge, slicing through the chalk line as the apparition rushed me.
Quite suddenly, as if a solid became smoke, I could see through him, see Sinait and the stone wall, and then there was nothing in the tower but soldiers, Sinait, and Edwy’s corpse.
“So there were wards out,” I said, stupidly stating the obvious.
Sinait shuddered. “But the emperor’s spell worked before … before that whatever it was, came,” she said. “I didn’t have time to write, but we have one bearing to our enemy.”
She pointed at Edwy’s body. He may have been unimpressive in life, but in death he served Numantia well, for he lay with an arm outstretched, pointing not quite due east.
“Where he points,” Sinait said, “is where that shade came from. One more casting, and we’ll have that seer.” She spoke without a tremor in her voice, and again I admired her courage. But a second casting would be almost impossible. This wizard had discovered our first attempt, and would be lying in wait.
• • •
The next day we held the death ceremony for Edwy and consigned his body to the flames. I gave the orders for three troops of Lancers to ready themselves as escorts for Seer Sinait, who was determined to make the second casting from the city of Cambon, about seventy miles to the south-southwest.
I’d attempted to use the Seeing Bowl to report to the emperor, but without success. Sinait wondered if our alerted foe might not have counterspells out against any magic we might try. “I don’t know how powerful this wizard is,” she said. “Powerful enough, for certain. And he’d need little energy to prevent your Bowl spell from working, since you have little talent and no training. I’d suggest you not even bother trying again.”
This worried me greatly. Tenedos had promised additional spells to help trap this wizard, and now we’d be forced to battle without them.
We were less than an hour from departure when Kutulu found me in the busy bustle of the regimental headquarters. “I don’t think we’ll need any more magic,” he said. “Come, and I’ll show you.”
We hurried to his office, which was cast in night, although it was a rare sunny day outside, for black curtains closed off the light. Spies abhor windows, unless they’re the ones trying to peer in. A huge map of Kallio covered one wall. It was dotted with large-headed pins, each numbered in red. From the castle a line of yarn ran to the east, which was the direction Edwy’s death had gained.
“I’ll keep this very brief,” Kutulu said with authority, and I felt a bit of amusement. Now I was in his arena, and he was very much in charge. “For we have our villain,” and there was a flash of triumph in his normally calm, unexcitable voice.
“First, we have the yarn, representing the line from the seers’ casting.”
“I see it.”
“Yesterday afternoon one of the clerk-drudges that I have shoveling through the paper ruins of Chardin Sher’s empire found this.” He picked up a piece of yellowing paper. “You’re welcome to read it, but you needn’t unless you wish. It’s a requisition for carriages and soldiers to escort Mikael Yanthlus, Chardin Sher’s magician, to the army’s camp on the far side of the Imru River. By the date it would have been just before our army was so badly defeated trying to cross that river into Kallio.
“A paper of no interest to anyone but quartermasters,” he said. “However, I found it fascinating, since it included the names of the three aides to Mikael of the Spirits. The first is unknown, as is the second, but the third has an interesting family name: Amboina. First name, Jalon. Only son of Landgrave Molise Amboina, Prince Reufern’s most favored friend.”
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
“Indeed,” Kutulu said. “Especially since Landgrave Amboina’s made no mention of this reclusive Jalon’s profession. I thought this was very interesting, so I determined to ask some questions of your friend the philosopher Arimondi Hami. I asked them in the company of Ygerne, who’ll you’ll admit has a certain presence.”
I remembered what the torturer had done to Slit-Nose.
“I informed Hami that, unlike other Numantians, I had no particular interest in his continued well-being, and I wished to know everything about the Amboina family, and its relationship to Chardin Sher and Mikael Yanthlus. I told him it was utterly foolish to attempt either ignorance or vast bravery. Everyone will talk in time, especially when the questioner knows what queries to put.
“He was wise, and told me what I wished. Briefly, the Amboina family has served Chardin Sher, his father, and his father’s father well, either directly as magicians when a family member had talent, or as go-betweens with other sorcerers, when those others used dark forces to accomplish their ends. The family’s daughters married wizards as well, when they could and when they had a touch of the talent. Otherwise, it was perfectly acceptable for an Amboina woman to become a magician’s concubine. Two of those girls, Amboina’s daughters from his first marriage, accompanied Mikael Yanthlus when he fled to the citadel where he was destroyed, and evidently died there.
“Hami seemed proud that the Amboina family so gladly prostituted their women to be close to magical power, incidentally.
“Hami also said Jalon had a great talent and might have grown to become Chardin Sher’s first sorcerer if the renegade Maisirian Yanthlus had ever left the office. I asked if Landgrave Amboina had any powers himself, and he said no, but he’d had an abiding interest in the art since Hami had known him.
“I wonder if this is another reason the traitor Hami hasn’t been to the gallows. It could well be Landgrave Amboina interceded with the prince on his behalf.”
I felt a bit ashamed at my kid-gloved questioning of Hami, but no more than a bit, which was why I was a soldier and Kutulu a warden.
“As soon as I received word of the sorcerers’ casting, I laid it out on this map.”
He picked up a long pointer, and ran it along the strand of red yarn, stopping about fifty miles from Polycittara.
“Just here is the seat of the Amboinas’ holdings, their grand manor house, Lanvirn, where Jalon Amboina is supposedly resident. You’ll notice it’s exactly on the line, which, by the way, I had one of your officers check with a compass before we moved Seer Edwy’s corpse.
“Another thing of interest. Look at the map. Those red pins mark anti-imperial incidents. You notice there are no such pins anywhere close to Lanvirn? The Amboinas were very clever, making sure their own lands and people were above suspicion. But, as you can see, once the problem areas are charted, this very absence of activity draws the eye.”
I looked at Kutulu with admiration — he was, indeed, worthy of being the emperor’s spymaster and chief warden.
“I think we should ride at once,” Kutulu went on, “with a small detachment. Perhaps two score of your Red Lancers, and I have six or seven men who aren’t unfamiliar with violence. Myself. The seer. Surprise can negate the need for large forces, which always broadcast their coming.”
“Good. We’ll be ready immediately,” I said, eager for action. “But what about Jalon Amboina’s father, the landgrave? I have to assume that he can communicate with his son, so we must keep him ignorant of what’s about to happen.”
“I have already told the prince of our discoveries, as my orders require,” Kutulu said. “I asked him to have the landgrave seized and imprisoned. The prince was horrified, saying he could do no such thing without proof of the landgrave’s involvement in this treason.
“I tried to argue, but …” Kutulu took a deep breath. “Instead, we invented an important errand. Amboina rode out of the castle two hours ago, with an escort of the prince’s troops. The officer in charge had orders to keep the landgrave out of Polycittara for at least two days, regardless of what it takes. I don’t like it, but that was the furthest Prince Reufern was willing to go.”
Kutulu seemed to have thought of everything. Then a question occurred to me.
“What about Arimondi Hami? Would there be any advantage in taking him with us? Perhaps he could tell us more about this Jalon Amboina as we ride.”
“Unfortunately,” Kutulu said, “he died in the course of our conversation.” Seeing my expression, the warden held up his hand. “No, not under torture. Neither Ygerne nor I laid a hand on him. He appeared to have died of terror. His heart simply gave out. I’ve already made arrangements for the quiet disposal of his remains, with a priest whom I can trust to keep silent.”
I looked hard at Kutulu. The Serpent Who Never Sleep’s expression was bland, calm. To this day, I do not know if the warden told me the truth.
• • •
“This becomes interesting,” Sinait observed, scratching her chin with a forefinger. “Taking a magician alive while trying to remain the same. Very interesting indeed. Now, let us assume he’s a better sorcerer than I am, or at any rate is more familiar with the terrain, both real and spiritual; which I think is the best idea, since I’ve never yet sent a vengeful spirit against someone who’s worked a spell against me.
“Kutulu has the correct idea. We must close with him as quickly as possible, and use surprise as our main weapon. You must not tell any of the soldiers what mission they will be on. Not that I think Amboina, or any other magician, can read thoughts, but if all these men are thinking of him, planning harm, that could create … vibrations might be a poor word for it … he could feel and respond to.”
“As a deer can sense a hunter’s presence if the hunter stares too closely at him?” I asked.
“A good example. Now, as I suggested, we must get close to this wizard as quickly as possible. I think he should be completely immobilized. Bind his arms and legs. Gag him so he can’t begin any spells. Blindfold him so he can’t determine where he is, and then get him away from his familiar surroundings.
“Perhaps I can sense any spells he tries and forestall them. It might be well to knock him unconscious at once and revive him once we’ve made our retreat.”
I grinned wryly. “This, Seer, is going to be an undertaking. To break into a well-guarded castle without alerting anyone, especially Amboina, then bash him over the head and tiptoe away without anyone screaming blue murder.”
“A task,” Sinait agreed. “But something I’ve noticed thugs accomplish all the time. Since we’re much brighter than any criminal, it should be easy.”
That was the only laughter the day gave.
• • •
“Of course you’re going to lead this raid yourself,” Marán said.
“Of course.”
She shook her head, tried to smile. “When you first asked if I wished to accompany you on this posting, I was delighted, for we’ve spent too much time apart. But maybe I was wrong. Before, when you were miles and leagues distant, I always imagined the worst could happen to you, and was always afraid.
“Now I’ve found that the truth can be so much more frightening. I’m concerned, my Damastes, my love, that you’re too peaceful a man.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “That sounds a trifle strange. Very few would consider a man who makes his trade as a warrior peaceful.”
“Oh, but you are. If you weren’t you, you would have sent out both regiments and ordered them to strike hard at this estate called Lanvirn, and take no prisoners, not peasant, not lord.”
“The emperor ordered Amboina to be taken alive.”
“The emperor, although I revere him as almost a god,” she said, “is not the one who’ll have to creep into a magician’s chambers. Sometimes what my father called bloodyhandedness is a virtue.”
“Sometimes it is,” I agreed. “But not here. Not now. I truly believe that one reason Kallio is in shambles is that my predecessors and their superiors were too quick with the sword and the rope.”
Marán got up and went to a window. “We’ve had this argument before,” she said. “I have no interest in going through it once more. Not with you planning to leave me within the hour.
“Come, Damastes. Let’s make love. Put some of your courage into me with your seed. And give me something to be glad about, and think of while you’re gone.”
She wore a simple silk frock and quickly pulled it over her head, stripped off her undershift, then went to the nearby couch and lay down.
“Leave your tunic on,” she said. “I want to see you make love to me as a soldier, so I can always remember what you are. Come to me, my Damastes. I need you so!”
• • •
A few minutes later I left our apartments. Standing outside was a calm Karjan and a irate messenger wearing the prince’s livery.
“This babbler says th’ Prince wants you,” Karjan said. “I told him you give me orders to leave you alone. He wanted t’ go in anyway. I didn’t have t’ slam him one, but it was close.”
“How dare you,” the man hissed at the lancer. “I speak for the prince.”
“You!” I barked. “You have a message for me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Just what this idiot said.”
“Then stop yammering, and take me to Prince Reufern.”
“But aren’t you going to do something to this, this …” The messenger read my expression well, clamped his mouth shut, and scurried off, his legs twinkling to stay ahead of my long strides.
• • •
“I told your domina I wished to accompany you on this raid,” the prince said. “He acted surprised, then told me I’d need to tell you my desires.” He pursed his lips. “Sometimes I feel less a ruler than a prisoner in this damned castle! Damnation, but I promised my brother I’d do the best job I knew how, and I am trying! I have no desire to be a peacock on a throne!”
He glared and I stared back. I was surprised when he didn’t look away. Instead, his jaw firmed, and I saw a glimpse of that innate power his brother held in such great measure.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” and I meant what I said. “We became so busy in this matter we didn’t take account of your feelings. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m not concerned about that greatly,” Reufern said. “Forget about it. I always prided myself on appointing managers and stewards in my businesses and leaving them alone to manage.
“The point is that I propose to go with you. Don’t worry, I know I’m not a general, so I won’t try to interfere. But the people of Kallio will never respect me if I sit on my ass surrounded by my pack of pet fools and whores and let the real task of governing go to others.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness — ”
“Stop!” Reufern barked. “Tribune, I told you what I propose to do, and I shall do it. I am giving you an order. Obey it, or I’ll summon the guard and have you placed under arrest! ”
By the withered balls of Umar, there was some fire to the man!
“I cannot obey that order, Your Majesty,” I said. “Arrest me if you will, but I would like to have a chance to explain.”
“I have no interest in your explanations! Dammit, my brother told me that you tried to keep him from going with you once, back in that shitty border town you both almost died in! But he insisted, and he went along. I’m doing the same.”
I maintained my silence.
“Well?” he said.
“I asked if I was to be permitted an explanation. If I’m not, then you must do what you will.”
The color receded from Reufern’s face, and he rapped his knuckles twice on the table he was leaning on. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll listen.”
“Thank you, sir. Your brother did insist on going with me back in Sayana, and he was right. We sought magic, and he was — is a magician. This is different.”
“Maybe I’m not a seer,” Reufern said. “But I can use a sword, and ride as well as any of your Lancers, Tribune. Don’t you understand,” and his tone became pleading, “I’ve got to feel I can do something, for Irisu’s sake! You don’t understand what it is. Laish was — is my younger brother, and I grew up taking care of him.
“Now it’s the other way around. Now he’s the one with the power, and sometimes I feel as if I’m not much more than a hanger-on, kept around more for pity than because I can serve well. Sometimes,” he said, and his voice was not much more than a whisper, “sometimes I wonder if I didn’t like it better in the old days.”
I almost let pity take me, but stiffened my resolve. “Sir, we’re after a magician once more. A very powerful one. Somehow who knows everything that happens in Polycittara. I’ll pose a question, sir, and you answer it as best you can, and if you still think it’s wise, then we both ride within the hour:
“Don’t you think that this Jalon Amboina would know, almost instantly, if Prince Reufern Tenedos, ruler of Kallio, left his palace for any reason at all, especially without warning and in the company of a band of armed men? Don’t you think that might make him at least take alarm, and maybe even lay a trap for us?”
There was a very long silence. The prince sighed, and his shoulders sagged. I felt relief wash over me — I’d hoped the shrewdness that had made Reufern a successful trader was still in him.
“You’re right, Damastes,” he said grudgingly. “But I feel no warmth toward you as I say that. I’ll stay, as you wish. But don’t expect me to just smile and shrug this off as no more than a prince’s momentary caprice, easily cast aside. I was serious about every word.
“You’re dismissed, Tribune. I wish you good hunting.” Without waiting for a response, he went out, and the slam of the door behind him was very loud.
I waited for a few moments, then left by the same door. I was very contemplative. Prince Reufern was a better man than I’d thought, and I reminded myself to not be so quick to judge. Perhaps the emperor hadn’t been completely wrong in making him prince regent.
We rode out in groups of threes and fours, in mid-afternoon. The civilians left first, then the soldiers, wearing dark civilian garb, our weapons hidden. It was a squally, chill day, perfect for our purposes. We met on an agreed hilltop five miles beyond the city. When dusk came, and travelers grew fewer, we clattered down to the highway, and rode for Lanvirn.
• • •
Five of us sprawled on a muddy hilltop, staring down at Lanvirn: Captain Lasta, Sinait, Kutulu, Karjan, and I. The rest of my raiders were hidden in a rickety barn behind us. It was not long after dawn. We’d ridden all night, stopping briefly for a meal from the iron rations in our saddlebags and one small flask of wine. Seer Sinait had improved our meal by casting a small spell over the flasks to heat them, so there was some warmth in our bodies when we rode on.
Lanvirn, like Polycittara, had sprawled beyond its walls. The fortress itself was a rectangle, with four-sided towers at the corners of the seventy-five-foot-tall keep and one on either side of the main gate. A small river had been diverted from its course for a moat around three walls, and there was a swamp to the rear. The Amboinas had built beyond the gates as their farms and ranches prospered, and a clutter of outbuildings had grown around the central structure, on the far side of the three-arched fixed bridge that bestrode the moat. There were peasants working here and there in the mucky fields, and wagons creaking along the narrow dirt roads. Unless this was all an elaborate deception, Jalon Amboina didn’t know we were coming.
We took it in turn to examine what lay below. The rear of the castle was one large donjon, and a flag flew over it, suggesting the Amboinas were in residence.
Sinait hesitantly suggested she could attempt a small seeking spell, but would rather not, for fear of alerting Jalon. I agreed — we’d find him by brute force.
First, we had to enter the fortress. It would’ve been possible for one or two to scale the outer wall, and we’d brought grapnel and rope, but we were after more than the family silver. I had an idea. I beckoned Captain Lasta to crawl over and pointed to where I thought Lanvirn might be vulnerable.
“Chancy,” he whispered. “Very chancy. I assume we’d wait for someone to open our way?”
“Just so.”
“Mmm. Four — no six men,” he mused. “Put the rest of us … where, back in one of those sheds? The closest one to the moat?”
“No,” I said. “That one over there. Let’s not get too close to the moat.”
“Chancy indeed,” he said. “But I have nothing better.”
We looked at each other, shrugged, and the plan was set.
• • •
A thin moon had risen, obscured by scudding clouds, when seven of us slid from the byre toward the moat. We were Svalbard, who carried bonds, gags, and blindfolds for the magician; an equally large bruiser named Elfric, who was one of Kutulu’s men; two archers, both from the Red Lancers (Manych and a longtime comrade and possibly the best bowman I’ve ever known, Lance-Major Curti); Kutulu; myself; and my shadow, Karjan.
All of us except the archers carried swords, but we’d slung their sheaths across our backs. We’d need them after we made entrance to Lanvirn, but not before. I hoped. Our main weapons were long daggers and padded rolls of sand to quietly silence anyone we encountered. Karjan and I carried four-inch lead pigs, which could be held in the fist to improve a blow’s quality, or thrown, as I’d done when I killed the Kallian landgrave Elias Malebranche. The archers’ bowstrings were silenced with tassels.
There was no one about, nor were there sentries outside the barred gate of the castle, but lights gleamed from the tower on each side of the bridge, so watch was being kept from a more comfortable spot than a sentry-go.
We moved slowly, crouching, so many dark huddles in the night, until we reached the moat. River-fed, it wasn’t the foul swamp most are, but it was deathly cold. I went first and had gone but a half dozen steps when the bottom dropped away and I was swimming. The current tried to sweep me under the bridge, but I kicked hard and made it to the first arch, where I was held by the current. Six heads bobbed toward me and we clung to the rough stonework.
We went from arch to arch, until we were against the dank stone walls of the fortress. Three slipped under the arch to the far side of the bridge, three others stayed with me. There was a slight ledge just underwater I hadn’t been able to see, so we were able to sit.
I took steel tent pegs from my belt pouch and tapped them into crevices in the wall, using a lead ingot for a hammer. Svalbard gave me a hoist up, and I pounded in more, until we had crude steps to just below the parapet. I heard a clink or two and the scuffle of boots against stone, and knew Kutulu and his two fellows had done as I had.
Then we waited. I spent the time numbly trying to decide which was colder, the sodden part of me above the waist in the chill breeze, or what was still underwater. I guess we sat for an hour, maybe two, although it could have been several lifetimes.
Over the soft rustle of the river I heard horses’ hooves. The stones of the bridge rang to iron horseshoes as riders approached the gatehouse. There were at least half a dozen, too many for us to overpower. A shout came, a challenge was answered. Harness creaked, and men muttered, then the great gate boomed open, and the riders entered Lanvirn. The gate closed, and there was no sound but the plash of the waters.
More time passed, and we heard more horsemen approaching, and it sounded like two, no more than three, riders. I clambered up the pegs. Karjan, then Svalbard were behind me. Again the challenge came and was answered. The shout hadn’t died into the night before I rolled across the parapet, dagger in hand.
There were three of them. One still bestrode his horse; the other two had dismounted. They had their backs to me, but heard my boots. One turned, gaping in surprise, and my dagger’s hilt thudded against his ribs, point sticking out a handspan beyond his back. The second’s mouth was open, but a sandbag took him, and he was down. The mounted man’s horse reared, someone grabbed the rider’s leg, and tore him from the saddle, and Elfric dropped across him as he went down. I saw his dagger go up, then down, three times in the dimness, and the gate was opening. Svalbard grabbed the gate in two hands and pulled hard, yanking the astonished guard behind it out onto the bridge. Karjan dropped him with a sandbag, and we were inside Lanvirn.
The Red Lancers came out of the darkness across the bridge, Seer Sinait in their midst, and were with us in the courtyard. There was a winding staircase into one of the towers, and boots thudded as another sentry came down. Curti had an arrow drawn, and as the man came into the open his bow thwacked and a war arrow went through the man’s throat clean and clattered against the stone.
Svalbard and Elfric ran up the steps. They were gone a handful of minutes, then came back. Svalbard shook his head and held his palms flat. No one else was on guard.
I marveled at the arrogance of Amboina. He had such confidence in his craft he felt untraceable, as if no one would, could, find him.
“Kutulu,” I asked. “Should you be in command?”
“No,” the spymaster whispered. “I want him taken by military law. He’ll have less right of appeal then.”
I half-admired a man who could think of such legal niceties in these circumstances.
“Seer,” I said, “do you detect any traps?”
“I do not,” and her voice was worried. “Either this Amboina is a far greater wizard than I thought, and can produce undetectable spells, or else he’s unbelievably complacent.”
“Let’s see which,” I said, and motioned my men forward. We ran along the wall, large rats scurrying, toward the double doors that were the entrance to the donjon. They were heavy wood with iron cross-bracing, and could have stood against a sizable ram. But they were unlocked and unguarded, and we drew our swords and burst through them.
The great hall could have kept harvest home for several hundreds, but there were only a dozen men and women inside, sitting at the remains of a late supper, with an equal number of servants.
At the head of the table was a man I instantly recognized, although I’d never seen him before. Jalon Amboina was his father’s image. His face was that of a brooding dreamer, a poet.
Beside him sat a young girl I supposed to be his sister, whose name Hami told Kutulu was Cymea, at the most fourteen. They were richly dressed, as were their guests.
“Jalon Amboina,” I shouted. “I have the emperor’s warrant!”
A serving maid screeched and threw a tureen at Karjan, and he knocked her spinning. I drew my sword and ran around the table. The man sitting at the foot came up, and I smashed his temple with the iron pig in my left hand, and he sprawled across his dinner partner’s lap.
Kutulu was beside me, and a man pushed his chair into his path, waving an eating knife. Kutulu’s loaded glove thudded into his face, and he fell motionless across his dinner plate.
The gray-haired man next to Amboina’s sister came out of his chair, unsheathing a slender sword. I lunged at him, and he parried, then cut. I smashed his sword aside, and ungentlemanly of me, kicked him in the stomach, then spitted him.
But he’d given Jalon Amboina a few seconds, and that was all the magician needed. There were ten yards between us, and in that space grew a shadow, then the form of that monstrous warrior I’d fought in the tower in Polycittara. This time it had a sword in each hand, and its fire-eyes glittered.
It cut at me, and I blocked its swing, and the shock sent my sword spinning away. I dropped to the flagstones as the creature slashed over my head. I scrabbled for my blade, got it in my hand, and back-rolled to my feet.
Behind his creation, Jalon Amboina was backing toward stairs at the rear of the hall. I heard him muttering his spells, and his monster attacked once more.
From nowhere an arrow sprouted from Amboina’s eye, and his head snapped back with the impact. He tottered, then fell. The demon howled in agony, a matching arrow buried in its eye socket.
Cymea Amboina screamed and threw herself on her brother’s body, and Amboina’s monstrous defender vanished as if it’d never been.
“No one moves,” Kutulu shouted. “You are all arrested, by the order of the emperor Laish Tenedos, on the charges of murder and high treason!”
There were squawks and shouts, and one man reached for a sword and was clubbed down by Elfric.
I paid no mind to them, nor to the servitors who poured into the hall, then stood indecisively, stunned by their master’s death.
All I could see was the sprawled body of Jalon Amboina, gore soaking the skirts of his sister as she cradled his corpse and keened wordlessly.