Talion Revenant

by Michael A. Stackpole

I nodded. "Yes, sir, but I was not alone."

  His Excellency closed heavy lidded eyes for a moment. "No, no, you were not. You had other Sixteens with you?"

  "Yes, Excellency, by the end all forty of us were there." I kept my voice low. I was uncertain why I had been summoned so quickly after my return from the mountains. Inside myself I realized there would be concern about the end of the exercise, but I had the distinct impression that I had done something wrong, something very wrong.

  The Master seemed to sense what I was feeling and he leaned forward. With a simple hand motion he silenced His Excellency and spoke. "Nolan, the three of us have read the journals of various Fifteens and a few Sixteens, so we have some idea of what happened out there. Still, I would like to hear about the action from you. You might have forgotten something in your account of the past week."

  I looked down quickly, because I'd mentioned nothing about Marana and myself in my journal. Just as I'd not told her about the secret treasure room, I believed that our feelings were for no one else so I left them out. Quickly I looked back up. "Where should I start?"

  Lord Hansur spoke softly. "I think the rescue would be the best place."

  I bowed my head to him, paused, and gathered my thoughts. "Marana and I agreed to free our captured companions. The only way we could get them out was to ransom them, but we did not have enough Imperials. Since the Fifteens had organized themselves the same way we'd done the previous year, I assumed they had one person keeping track of the Imperials for the whole camp. We figured out who that was and, by using the right of plunder, we were able to take his Imperials and ransom the other Sixteens."

  His Excellency cleared his throat. "That much we all understand, Nolan. What we wish to discover is what happened after that."

  I quickly killed the grin trying to creep onto my face. "Once the Sixteens were free I got all of them to return to the Fifteens' camp. Because Marana and I had killed their leadership, and the two guards before the tents didn't realize their captives were gone, no alarm had been raised. We wandered back into the camp, slew those who were awake, then systematically killed all the others while they slept."

  The Master leaned back and tapped his chin with his right index finger. "And then."

  I blushed. "Then we kept careful track and rekilled everyone in six-hour intervals so we could ransom them and earn every Imperial they did without letting them back into the Game."

  "Amazing," breathed His Excellency. "You split them into groups and harvested them like crops." He turned and said something in High Tal that was to fast for me to catch. The Master nodded and looked to Lord Hansur.

  The Lord of all Justices smiled. "Nolan, can you explain why you did what you did?"

  I nodded. "The reason we were out there was to learn to survive in a hostile land with people searching for us. During the first three weeks I learned how to survive in the winter, and how to avoid unorganized pursuit. It was not easy..."

  "Especially when smuggled goods run out..." the Master laughed.

  I nodded sheepishly. "...especially when the simple things I've learned to rely upon are not available, but in those three weeks I managed to survive. Marana and I eliminated enemies, and even mounted a couple of successful ambushes and raids upon them.

  "When the Fifteen entered the Game, the situation changed. They were well organized, and if I'd not happened to see a pack of them moving that first morning, I'd have been rounded up in one of their sweeps rather early. Marana and I backtracked them and watched their camp for a full day. By the end of that day they'd brought in twenty-three of us."

  I stopped and licked my lips. Sweat trickled down my temples and my heart raced. My explanation sounded like well-thought-out strategy, but I'd pieced things together as I went along out there. Each step just seemed to follow the other, and they all formed a very nice pattern in the end, but it sounded better than it had really been.

  "I realized that survival would be impossible in a place where the opposition was so well organized. We had no options. We couldn't leave the exercise area, and I knew we could not hide forever, so I thought coming back and killing all the Fifteens would slow them down. Once we'd done that someone commented that in another six hours they'd be after us again, so we took control of the camp and kept them out of the Game."

  I shrugged my shoulders. "Eventually the other Sixteens noticed they were not being pursued and came in to investigate. That's how the rest of them joined us."

  His Excellency shook his head in disbelief. The Master looked up and stared at the interior of the dragon's skull, then looked at me. "You know your group of Sixteens brought in nineteen thousand Imperials. That buried the previous record, and, conversely, the Fifteens ended up with a net debt of seven thousand one hundred and eighty-two Imperials. Why did you let three of them keep enough to ransom themselves?"

  I smiled. "Marana and I told the two we took in the woods that we would return and pay their ransom so they would give us information. We could not threaten to hurt them, so we threatened them with failure. I did the same with Serle. There was no reason for us not to honor our deals."

  His Excellency's chair creaked as he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "How much did you want to embarrass the Fifteens for adopting your plan from last year?"

  The accusations beneath the question stunned me for a second. "I didn't... ah, I, that was not my goal." I looked to the Master. "I'd be a liar if I said that didn't cross my mind, but it was not what I meant to do. I must admit that because they were using our plan from last year—greatly improved by Serle's planning and organization—I knew what might be a weak link. Last year we had four people guarding our treasure, but since there was never an attack mounted against us that detail seldom got brought up when the plan was discussed. I took a chance on that because it was the only chance I had to free the others."

  I felt as if I were begging for my life, but no one showed any sign of having been swayed by my plea. I looked from face to face without successfully piercing any mask or reading any expression.

  Finally the Master nodded to me. "Thou art dismissed."

  * * *

  Jevin met me in the supply hallway. "What happened?"

  I shrugged. "They asked me some questions but I've got no clue about what they wanted. No praise, no reprimand, just nothing."

  Jevin smiled. "Have you heard what Lord Eric has done to Serle?"

  "No, but I'll bet he's got the same thing in mind for me." My heart sank at the news that punishments for the Game were starting to filter down.

  Jevin smiled. "He's assigned him to watch every night."

  My shoulders slumped forward. "That's a bit harsh, isn't it? And if that's what he gives blood kin, I can't wait to see what he does with me. Can he get me assigned to a Journey in the Sand Sea Reaches?"

  Jevin laughed. "I don't think so, and I also don't think Serle's punishment is light because they are blood kin. The other Lancers just got a lecture. It seems Lord Eric feels Serle dishonored the family, hence the extra duty."

  A harsh shout cut my comment off.

  "Nolan!" The angry Call spun me around instantly and fury exploded inside me because of the involuntary reaction of my body to the Call. Lothar stood in the hallway behind me. His face burned bright red. "She told me what you did to her."

  I unconsciously balled my fists. I recognized the threat in his voice, but his words confused me. What I'd done to her? It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, and how Marana must have told him about us. He was so angry that a vision of Marana, lying senseless and bleeding upstairs, flashed through my mind and I dropped into a fighting stance.

  Lothar stalked down the hallway at me. Jevin drifted to my right, two steps back and one to the side. "She told me what happened and how you seduced her."

  My nostrils flared. "If you've hurt her..."

  Lothar straightened up and sneered at me. "Such concern for a woman you've used to get at me." He shook his head. "She even believes she loves you.
She refuses to come back to me even though I forgave her."

  I lowered my fists and narrowed my eyes. "I think you've got this all twisted up, Lothar."

  "No!" he laughed. "You used your time together to poison her mind against me. And I counted you as a friend, I trusted you and here you stole my woman!"

  "I stole no one, and I never meant to attack you. It just happened!" Lothar's stare went blank as I spoke, and he shook his head as if an adult bemused with the fanciful tale told by a child. I ground my teeth and shouted at him. "Don't you patronize me, you self-important lordling. If you'd paid the attention to her that she deserved she'd never have noticed me. You get so wrapped up in you, Lothar, that you think of us as your courtiers, and of Marana as your court consort."

  The benevolent peacefulness in his eyes melted as raw anger poured in. Color rose to his cheeks and veins stood out in his neck. "Peasant! There it is, the truth comes out. You're jealous of my bloodlines and the antiquity of my family. You struck out at me through my weakness. You used our friendship to get at me."

  "I've never been jealous of you, Lothar, you've got nothing I want."

  "I have Marana."

  "No, Lothar, had." I sneered at him. "My previous statement stands. You have nothing I want." I regretted my words the second they escaped my mouth, but by then it was all too late.

  Lothar lunged forward and buried his left fist in my stomach. I doubled over and reeled against the corridor wall. I raised my hands up into a weak guard and tensed for the blow that never came.

  I forced myself to breathe and looked up. Jevin had Lothar's jerkin and held him back. "No, Lothar, you can't. It's not the way of the Talions." Jevin's deep voice filled the hallway. I heard anguish in his voice and knew it was more for the death of my friendship with Lothar than it was over any concern about our fighting.

  Lothar fought wildly but ineffectively to escape the Fealareen's grip. "Let go of me, you demon!"

  "Lothar!" Jevin's Call slashed through Lothar's rage. "This is not done in Talianna."

  I straightened slowly and still leaned against a wall. Lothar calmed a bit and composed himself. Jevin released him and Lothar tugged his clothing back into proper position, then snarled and stabbed a finger at me.

  "Jevin is right. This is not how Talions settle their differences. You have three days. I challenge you to Cirhon!"

  New pain rippled through my stomach. Cirhon is a ritual in which two Talions meet to settle matters of honor. The challenger selects a site, sets a large circle of stones or draws the circle in the dust, and informs the challenged Talion where and when they will meet. The Talions both enter the circle and the fight is not finished until one is forced from the circle or dead. Seldom are the fights to the death, but with Lothar and his wounded pride there would be blood.

  I hung my head in a heavy nod. "I accept."

  "No." The Call spun all three of us about as if we were weather vanes in a tornado. Lord Hansur strode down the hall like an executioner.

  Lothar opened his mouth but said nothing.

  Lord Hansur raised his right hand. "I know, Lothar, why you want to fight Nolan in Cirhon, but it will not be allowed." He stopped four feet from us and spoke to us as a group. "In two days all the Sixteens will leave on their Journeys." Lord Hansur looked down at his own right hand, then back at us. "And until you return from that Journey, and have earned this mark, you are not true Talions. Until then you will have no right to Cirhon."

  Lothar and I both bowed deeply and remained with our heads down until Lord Hansur and Jevin left us.

  I looked over at Lothar and he at me. We both knew, in that instant, we'd survive our Journeys.

  And three days after we became Talions we'd do our best to kill each other in Cirhon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Talion: Lord Nolan

  Allen slapped my stomach with the back of his hand and ripped me out of the past. "Dammit, Nolan, I have to have these measurements right. Stand up straight. Stop tensing. Let your arms hang naturally."

  I straightened myself and smiled down at him. "I thought you could size me at a glance."

  Allen snapped his measuring string around my bare chest and pulled it roughly tight. It pinched and stung but I was beyond reacting. "I can, for Talion uniforms, but they"—he jerked his head toward the Star—"want you in court clothing, so I have to be more exact. Now stand as you would normally."

  I exhaled deeply and tension flowed out of me. I forced myself to relax.

  Making Allen's work more difficult would not bring Marana back, and would only make my job of avenging her harder. "I apologize, Allen. I..."

  The supplies clerk nodded without looking up. "I know, I know..." He whipped the string from around my chest and called the measurement out to a novice behind him. "His Excellency uses coercion as you use a tsincaat: easily and with deadly effect." Though His Excellency was Allen's superior, his tone clearly said he did not always approve of the Services Lord's methods.

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. "His technique was brutal, but he was right. I've got a job to do." I held my arms out so Allen could measure them. "King Tirrell may have conquered my nation, but I am a Talion now. This is my nation, and my duty is to the Master."

  Allen turned and tossed me my armored leather tunic. "Because of the war you came to Talianna. In a way you owe King Tirrell a debt, don't you?"

  I nodded grimly. "More than one. Perhaps I can pay them all off."

  Allen coiled the measuring string. "You can go to your briefing now. I should have enough clothes for you to travel in the morning."

  I reached the door, then turned back. "Is it still fashionable, on hunting clothes, to wear a dueling sleeve?" In years past the nobles of Hamis, Lacia, and Rimah had taken to wearing hunting jackets that could double as dueling apparel by having the sword arm made of studded leather armor. They felt it made them look dangerous and rakish. Every bit of armor I could get interested me.

  Allen frowned and rubbed a hand back across his balding head. "It is fading in popularity, but should be appropriate for your new identity. By the way, the moustache and goatee look good."

  I raised my right hand to my chin. My face still tingled where a Wizard had used magic to speed my whiskers' growth. "Thanks. If you can fix up my hunting clothes with the leather, and perhaps fix me a pair of bracers that could go under some of the wide-sleeved tunics, I'd appreciate it." My request sounded as if such work would be simple, but the novice behind Allen winced and shook his head with resignation.

  Allen nodded, turned to follow my gaze and laughed. "And you want your tsincaat concealed in your boots?"

  "No." I chuckled. "A throwing dagger in each will do nicely."

  I pulled my leather armor on again but left the front half-open so I'd not overheat. My walk to the Master's chamber took virtually no time at all. For a moment I wondered if the chamber might truly occupy no real space in the Star, but merely appeared in a location most convenient for the person trying to find it. I found the room after two turns off the main corridor, and the doors opened for me before I'd realized I'd reached my destination.

  I bowed and seated myself in the chair I had occupied six hours before. The Master, His Excellency, and Lord Eric still occupied the chairs they had when I departed. For a second I thought they'd not so much as breathed since I left, but the color draining from Lord Eric's face and the sweat beaded up on His Excellency's forehead suggested a fierce discussion had occupied them during at least some of my absence.

  Since the morning I'd had my hair cut, my face shaved except for the moustache and goatee, had a Wizard accelerate my beard's growth, had been force-fed Hamis history and recent court politics, and got measured for a new wardrobe. Stiffness from the morning's fight had set in, and I'd not managed any food in all that time, so the table laden with fruit, cheese, and wine next to my chair immediately attracted my attention.

  His Excellency waved a hand at the table. "I know you've not eaten. Please, help yourself.
" I hesitated and looked at the other lords first, but His Excellency just smiled and added, "We have already eaten."

  I reached out and took up the goblet of wine. The long-stemmed goblet was made of gold, but had no design or precious stones worked into it. I cupped the bowl with the stem resting between my third and fourth fingers. It held dark red wine and I recognized the scent almost immediately.

  I sipped. The wine tasted dry but not bitter. I smiled. The wine came from Sinjaria. The grapes grew in an area north of my family's farm on vines transplanted from Hamis. Though it was far better quality wine than my family used to drink, I recalled having drunk this vintage before, a long time ago, at my first Festival.

  I set the cup down and picked up an apple. It was small, green, and probably grown in the central valley of Hamis. I took a knife from the tray and peeled the fruit. I carefully cut around it because I didn't want to break the peel.

  It was an old game, but one I suppose the wine's familiarity brought back to me. If I could peel the apple, leave the peel intact, and then throw it over my shoulder it was supposed to land in the shape of the initial of the person I was to marry. As a child, all of my brothers and sisters had tried it, and whenever an initial came up of someone we did not like we dismissed the results as Hamisian superstition.

  Once I'd peeled the apple—I tossed the spotty green peel into a zig-zag heap on the table—I cut around the core and sliced the apple into circles. I ate the apple rings one at a time.

  Lord Eric's restlessness radiated from him like summer heat from a stone. "What is all this foolishness with the food? Cannot you discuss his assignment while he eats?"

  His Excellency steepled his fingers above his vast stomach and regarded Lord Eric with a glance that could have melted glass. Then he looked over at me and let a vulpine grin slash its way onto his face. "Nolan, where is the wine from?"

  I swallowed the bite of apple in my mouth, then washed it down with a bit more of the wine. "My family only drank the common vintage, not anything this good, but I would guess it's from the Sinjarian province of Yotan?" I took another sip, thought for a moment, and added, "And it's from before the war because it's not as sweet as they like it in Hamis."