by Steven Brust
"Well, but there must be many of these."
"This one is special."
"In what way?"
"As to that, I do not know; but Sireng assures me that there is something about this troop that makes them important."
"Very well, I will consider this. Is there anything else?"
The Warlock nodded, and said, "Does the Necromancer remain with us?"
Morrolan nodded. "She remains, though I do not know why."
"I have learned a little of her."
"Oh? Tell me."
"There are rumors of her mysteriously appearing from nowhere, and making her way to a place called Dzur Mountain."
"I have heard of this mountain," said Morrolan. "It is, after all, part of my fief."
"How, is it? But you know that it is inhabited."
"Inhabited?" said Morrolan, startled. "I had not known of this circumstance."
"How, you had not? But then, those who are working for you are, perhaps, more willing to speak casually with me than with you. But there is no doubt that there is a presence of some sort there, and, I am told, a sinister one."
"And yet," said Morrolan, "I have seen no tribute."
"As to that," said the Warlock, "I cannot comment."
Morrolan frowned and seemed to consider for a moment, but then he merely shrugged, turned away, and called for Fentor, who was acting as his second-in-command. When this worthy arrived, Morrolan, in two words, explained what he had learned, and asked for suggestions.
"We are to bring our three thousand against forty thousand?"
"Yes, that is what we must do, my dear Colonel"—the reader may perceive that, as the numbers of Morrolan's army rose, so too did Fentor's rank—"unless, that is—"
"Yes, unless?"
"Unless you can think of a way to stop these forty thousand without the use of our three thousand."
"Well, in fact, I do not believe that I can."
"Then we are required to use our army. Although—"
"Yes?"
"We have our witches." The colonel looked uncomfortable at the mention of this practice, but did not take it upon himself to voice his objections, if, indeed, he had any, to his liege. "As to whether they will be sufficient," continued Morrolan, shrugging, "who can say?"
"Your Goddess," said Fentor.
Morrolan appeared startled, as if he had not expected an answer to the question. After consideration, however, he said, "Do you know, that may be true. It may be that we will ask her. And yet, she is not speaking to us as we would like. We asked her for a sign some days ago, when word came of the approaching army, and we have received nothing—or, at any rate, nothing we have recognized as a sign."
"Who can know of the Gods?" said Fentor dismissively. "But we can know of armies. What do you have it in mind to do?"
"I wish to attack them," said Morrolan. "Yet, it would seem that we would have a better chance if we arranged for a careful defense."
Fentor frowned, as if considering the defensive possibilities of the immediate terrain. At last he said, "We can defend this ground well enough, though hardly against such odds. And, as I have said before, the more time we have to drill and train the new recruits who are still arriving, the better it will be for us, and consequently, the worse for our enemy. Of course, it is possible that they will go around us."
"Yes, but if we are in their path—"
"Yes. This warlord does like to gobble up everyone he comes across."
"Then we have no choice but to assume, as we have been, that we are to be attacked."
"Exactly."
"Very well. See to it. Do you know—"
"Yes my lord?"
"It seems to me that I have been doing a great deal of considering, of late. I wonder, is this a natural consequence of command?"
"Yes, my lord. Indeed, the more you command—"
"Well?"
"The more you must consider."
"I am not certain that I care for it."
"You will become used to it, in time."
"Will I? That is good, then. I take your word for it."
"You may."
"Very well. You know what you must do?"
"Entirely."
"Very good. I must run an errand."
"An errand, my lord? Will it be a lengthy errand?"
"A day or two."
"But, my lord—"
"You must manage things here while I am away."
"Very well, my lord," said the colonel. "But, if I may ask whither are you bound?"
"Dzur Mountain," said Morrolan. "I must learn who is this person who dwells on my land without even giving me the courtesy of a welcome, much less whatever tribute I am owed."
"But, my lord, is now the time—"
"Yes," said Morrolan, and with this word, he turned away and called for a horse to be saddled. Once this was accomplished, Morrolan rode off at once, not even giving the colonel time to reply, but rather at once turning his horse's head to the north and setting off at good speed.
As he does so, we believe that is time to look back on him for whom this history is named, that is, the Viscount of Adrilankha.
Chapter the Forty-Ninth
How Zerika Acquired Horses
For Her Small Army
Though traveling slowly, and on foot, Piro and his friends have nevertheless managed to make a certain amount of progress in the time that has elapsed since we last saw them: South Mountain has, by this time, quite vanished behind them, and they are making their way along the vast plain occasionally dotted with forests between the Shallow Sea and the Laughing River.
Ibronka, Röaana, Kytraan, and Piro walked some distance behind their elders, which permitted them to engage more freely in discourse—for it is well known that the presence of a paternal or maternal figure will inhibit even the most innocent of conversations. And, by all measures, this was among the more innocent of conversations, because they spoke of techniques of defense—a subject of which their elders would have strongly approved.
"Certainly," Kytraan was saying, "that is one of the first techniques I learned of my master. Cut high, then low, then high, then low, then high, then high again."
"Or, then low then low again," said Ibronka, agreeing. "Yes, it is a beginner's technique, but it remains effective nevertheless."
"Oh, as to its effectiveness," said Piro, "I do not question that—my father speaks of it in terms that leave no room for doubt, and, like you, insisted that I not only learn it, but practice it regularly. But the question is—"
"There is a question?" said Röaana.
"There is about to be," said Piro.
"Well," said Ibronka, "ask it, then."
"The question is, what does this teach us?"
"How," said Ibronka. "You pretend it teaches us something?"
"Without doubt," said Piro. "Consider: I cut at your head, you parry. I cut at your side, you parry. I cut at your head again, then at your side again. Now, by this time, you know very well what I am doing—that is, you are aware that I will soon change my rhythm in hopes of catching you off guard."
"Well," said Ibronka carefully, "that is true; were you to do this, I should know what you were doing."
"And then? Do you think my plan would work?"
The others considered this for a moment, and then Kytraan said, "Do you know, it would still work. That is, even knowing what was happening, the arm quickly falls into the pattern so that it is difficult to break."
"Exactly," said Röaana. "That is what makes the technique so effective."
"I agree," said Piro. "And so, I repeat my question: What does this teach us?"
"Ah," said Ibronka. "So you speak of philosophy?"
"Well," said Piro, "or of defense. They are all the same."
"That is true," said Röaana.
"And then?" said Piro. "What is the answer?"
"I know," said Kytraan.
"Then tell us," said the others.
"It tells us that, in a fight, thinking
—that is, what one knows—is not of as much importance as we might believe."
"Ah," said Piro. "Well, that is an answer. Are there others?"
"Yes, I have a different answer," said Ibronka.
"Well, we will listen to your answer," said the others.
"It is this: It shows the importance of aggression—that is, of being the one who initiates the attacks."
"Yes," said Piro. "I see truth in this, too. But are there other answers?"
"To me," said Röaana, "it shows the importance of timing. That is to say, the creation of a rhythm is a powerful thing."
"I think," said Piro, "that is also true."
"But come," said the others. "What is your answer?"
"How, you believe I have an answer?"
"I nearly think you do, or you should not have asked the question," said Kytraan, smiling.
"Well, you are nearly correct," said Piro, smiling in his turn. "Although I must say that I agree with all of the answers I have heard hitherto."
"And yet," said Röaana, "you perceive we are most anxious to hear your own answer."
"My answer is this: If I were aware of what you were doing, I could break it myself, thus catching you off guard. In this way, I become the aggressor, and I control the timing, and suddenly, it is your thinking that is unimportant. Or, to put the matter differently, it demonstrates the importance of remaining flexible in both body and mind, and of being ready to adapt to changing circumstances."
"Well," said Ibronka, "I see a great deal of truth in what you say."
"Do you?" said Piro, feeling himself flushing for reasons of which he was unaware.
"Well, I am gratified that you do."
"Alas," said Röaana, "we have had, as yet, little chance to test our ideas of the defense. It is vexing."
Ibronka nodded. "Soon, however. In this company, well, it cannot be long before a sword is drawn from sheath with the intention of finding more than a whetstone!"
"Oh, as to that," said Kytraan. "There is no doubt you are right. It cannot be long."
Ibronka smiled at this thought, an expression which suited her countenance splendidly.
"Indeed," said Röaana, "we did not leave our homes with the notion of merely riding horses from one place to another, however estimable the company."
"But," said Kytraan, after bowing to acknowledge his share in this compliment, "why did you leave your homes?"
"Oh, as to that," said Röaana, glancing quickly at her friend.
"Well, the truth is," said Ibronka, flushing slightly, "we were told to. But Röaana will explain."
"I will?"
"Why not?"
Röaana did her best to answer this question, aided now and then by Ibronka, and with comparisons to the equivalent answers by Piro and Kytraan, and so in the way the history of each of the four was gradually revealed.
This conversation has been given to show how our friends carried out their journey. While they did so, their elders were concerned with the pursuit. Khaavren was always in the lead, head forward, nearly sniffing like a hound. Zerika walked next to him, at times appearing to hold him back: developing, one might say, a serenity quite Imperial in its character. Behind them came Aerich, Tazendra, and Pel—Aerich saying little and smiling much, Tazendra doing most of the talking, and Pel putting in an occasional remark. Next were those brigands who had, either from loyalty to the Empress or from coercion at the point of a sword, come over to our friends' side: Grassfog, Iatha, Belly, and Ritt; with the servants walking behind them, and the younger generation, as it were, bringing up the rear in the fashion we have already had the honor to describe.
Near the end of the day, they found a small village called Barleytown, which is in the southern portion of the district called Agate for reasons of which we must admit our ignorance, as it cannot be considered a rocky area by any means. Doubtless it was settled by someone who had taken his name from another region in which agates of various kinds are common, for this is how names often come to be associated with places; indeed, for every "Stonybrook" that was named for a nearby stream that was full of rocks, there may be two or three that are named because Lady Stonybrook first settled it, and another named in honor of Lord Stonybrook for some action he took that was meaningful to those who settled the new town. As there are so many places in our Empire in which agates might be found, and so many nobles who have taken their name from such places, there is no reliable way to ascertain the source of the name of this district, at least until some presently unknown records should come to light (this author does not, as a rule, accept oral tradition as a reliable source of historical data!). As we are, thus, unable to determine the origin of this name, we will avoid wasting the reader's time by discussing it.
There was not much to this village—that is to say, it consisted of what had once been a posting station but was now a sort of general indoor market shared by tradesmen who would gather there on Marketday, and a small inn marked by a sign depicting a bouquet of blue flowers which was painted every year and replaced every ten years so that it remained in good condition—better condition, in fact, than the inn itself, which was of crumbling stone that had sunk nearly a foot in front, and perhaps half a foot in back, so that the entire structure had a dramatic forward tilt. The insides of this inn were filled with Teckla and ingenious devices making use of the principle of the inclined plane to prevent drinks from following the slant of the building and arriving on the floor. And in addition to the Teckla and these various devices, the place was also filled with our friends, who had entered the inn within minutes of spotting it from the road.
After taking a moment to permit their eyes to adjust to the darkness within (there was only one window, far in the back, and but two lanterns hanging from the roof), our friends looked around, only to discover that everyone in the room was looking back at them, and that no conversation of any sort was taking place. To be sure, it was a sizable little troop that invaded this position, and, more than its size, it included, above all, Zerika herself, the Orb circling her head as it had the head of the Emperor from time immemorial, which would certainly be enough to attract notice, even without the company of sixteen persons who entered all in a troop, as if they were the occupying force of an army. And we must add that this troop entered an inn that was already crowded, this being Marketday, and the inn being the only one for fifty miles in any direction.
For a moment, no one spoke, and the silence may have become uncomfortable, perhaps even threatening, but then Zerika said, "Captain, speak to them."
Khaavren winced at this title, but he responded nevertheless, clearing his throat and saying, "Greetings. Are there horses to be purchased anywhere nearby? We have silver with which to pay for them."
There was murmuring, but, for a moment, no words could be distinguished. Then, at least, a burly woman with heavy eyebrows said, "I have several, but they are a trifle winded just now, and should rest."
"I should," said Khaavren, "very much like to see them."
"In that case, my lord," said the Teckla, "I shall be glad to show them to you, and this very minute, if you wish. Although—"
"Yes?"
"While you are here, you may wish to consider sampling the muskellunge."
"Muskellunge?"
"It is similar to the common pike, but with fewer bones and better flavor. Nowhere else in the world—"
"Just the horses, if you please."
"Of course, my lord."
Khaavren turned to to Zerika and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Yes," said the Empress. "We shall remain here, in the meantime; we can all use refreshment, I believe."
"As Your Majesty wishes," said Khaavren, bowing.
Soon, they were all sitting, occupying one small table and one very long one, with the locals moving aside to give them room. Piro found himself sitting across from Ibronka, with Röaana on one side of him, and Kytraan on the other. "Well, my friend," said Kytraan as they seated themselves, "it seems that we have,
indeed, had an adventure."
"That is true," said Piro. "And yet, you speak as if it were over."
"Oh, not the least in the world, I assure you. On the contrary, it is clear that we are quite in the middle of it, and it is far too soon to say what will happen. Yet, already, it has been an experience to remember, has it not?"
"Oh, as to that, I cannot disagree with you. But yet, my mind is drawn to what will happen next to such a degree that I have some trouble considering where we have been."
"Come then," said Ibronka suddenly. "Tell my friend and me—" here she indicated the Tiassa, "what you have done, for you perceive your conversation has made us most curious, has it not, my dear Röaana?"
"Oh, as to that," said her friend, who glanced quickly at Kytraan, before flushing and lowering her eyes, "I do not deny that I should like to hear of it."
Ibronka frowned suddenly at her friend, but then quickly turned back toward Piro and Kytraan and smiled. Kytraan, who had not noticed this interaction, glanced at Piro, who had not understood it. The Viscount said, "Well, you must understand that, for me, it was no small thing to meet the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain."
"How," said Ibronka, "you have seen the Enchantress?"
"Seen her?" said Piro. "I give you my word, I have been as close to her as I am to you at this moment."
"Well, but then, what is she like?" said the Dzur. "You must tell me."
Piro frowned, and, after opening his mouth and closing it again more than once, he turned to Kytraan and spread his hands.
"Oh, as to what she is like," said Kytraan, "well, she is very mysterious."
"How, mysterious?" said Röaana in a small voice. "In what way?"
"Why, in every way," said Kytraan, himself at a loss as to how to describe Sethra Lavode, a predicament in which he was not alone, as countless works of history and romance can bear witness—indeed, this author will confess freely that, of all the tasks he has set for himself in placing these events before the reader, those which touch upon Sethra Lavode are certainly the most difficult. In the event, Kytraan found that he had fallen silent, leaving the question unanswered.
"And then," said Piro, attempting to save his friend from the embarrassment that he, himself, had just felt, "we had the honor of assisting Zivra—that is to say, Zerika, the Empress, in arriving at Deathgate Falls."
