Sethra Lavode

by Steven Brust

  Instead of chasing them, Morrolan cried, "For my Demon Goddess!," and, as he had done earlier, with no apparent effort caused every building in this hamlet to collapse in on itself, burning—screams coming from within them to prove that at least some of them had been inhabited.

  All of which left Morrolan apparently alone in the middle of the village—alone, that is, except for the icon of Tri'nagore. He turned his attention to it and advanced slowly and deliberately, his sword held comfortably in his hand, still dripping blood upon the dirt street.

  Chapter

  the Eighty-Eighth

  how lord brimford attempted to enter the battle while the warlord received disturbing intelligence

  The opening of the Battle of Adrilankha went very much according to plan—that is to say, Kâna's plan. The Warlord was very accommodating: she permitted her spear phalanxes to be driven back, and very nearly permitted her forward units to be outflanked before ordering a fighting retreat toward the fortifications—this same thing occurring, be it understood, on both the Hartre Pike and on Lower Kieron Road. She instructed her sorcerers to hold back—performing a minor spell now and then, but nothing devastating. Her reason for this strange order was twofold: For one, she hoped to achieve a sufficient concentration of enemy forces so that, with luck, an entire regiment, or more, could be devastated by sorcerous attacks. For another, she was convinced (and, as it turned out, she was right) that Kâna had something "under his cloak," and she did not wish to have her sorcerers mentally exhausted before learning what this was, in the event that it could be countered with sorcery (although, as it turned out, it could not).

  The joining of the battle on Lower Kieron Road occurred perhaps a quarter of a mile west of the newly constructed fortresses; on the Old West Road it was closer to half a mile. In both cases, the Imperial forces were forced into a slow, grudging retreat by the ferocity of Kâna's onslaught, as well as the skillful deployment which it cannot be argued his generals, Izak and Brawre, made of their forces.

  Sethra Lavode did not herself view either of the battles, rather staying in touch with all of her forces by using her corps of adepts, from whom came a constant stream of information. In this way, she monitored the unfolding of the battle, considered, reflected, and waited.

  This continued for some twenty or twenty-five minutes, which, while it may sound like a short space of time, is, in fact, a very, very long time to be engaged in a pitched battle, with its furious activity, its strange sights sometimes so clear as to be more than real, other times so confusing as to be merely blurs. And, above all, with its sounds. A reader who has never been in the vicinity of a battle (and, in the opinion of this author, there is a great deal to be said for avoiding the vicinity of a battle!) cannot imagine the volume produced. Between the clash of steel on steel, and the cries from mouths of those either inspiriting themselves with war-fury or screaming in agony from wounds, the din can be heard from a far, far greater distance than one might imagine.

  The peculiar and interesting Easterner whom we have come to know as Lord Brimford was alerted to the commencement of the battle first by these sounds—clearly discernible more than a mile behind the front lines and then almost at once by his dog, Awtlá, who, from lying down, rose to an alert sitting position, perked up his droopy ears as much as he could, and gave the Warlock a look of inquiry, as if to say, "Master, is this something that concerns you?"

  Brimford rose to his feet and stepped out of the pavilion tent where he had been taking his ease.

  "My dear Awtlá," he said, "I think it nearly does. I should imagine we shall be officially informed in an instant, and then we shall be asked to do our part, and then we shall have the honor of informing the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain that her request is impossible, and then, why, we shall return here to sit uselessly and await the outcome of a battle upon which rests the future of my beloved, my own happiness, and certain less important matters, such as the existence of this Empire on which the elfs place so much value."

  The dog twitched his ears in a manner quite nearly intelligent; the cat, Sireng, merely yawned.

  As the Warlock stepped out of his pavilion, a messenger wearing a badge which claimed him as belonging to the Warlord's suite approached, bowed, and said, "My lord—" these words appeared to come from the messenger only with a certain amount of effort, "the battle has begun, and you may initiate your enchantment at any time."

  "Very well. Where is Sethra Lavode?"

  The messenger hesitated. He was, we should say, uncertain as to whether it was proper for him to answer this question. After all, he had been told only to run errands, not provide intelligence. For another thing, this was an Easterner. For yet another, the Easterner was not even in uniform (the uniform of the Imperial forces involved a badge with the Phoenix emblem worn over the left breast, and a gold beret worn on the head—even Sethra Lavode herself affected this costume for the engagement).

  Brimford waited patiently, and at length the messenger decided that, as her headquarters was clearly marked with a flag that could be seen for half a league in any direction, it would not be a terrible breach of security if he were to part with this information, he therefore pointed out this flag and explained that the general was to be found near it, surrounded by messengers and adepts, and could be identified, first, by her pale skin, and, second, by the three swords, indicating her rank, that were embroidered on her beret.

  Brimford saluted the errand runner and followed these unnecessary directions (that is, had the messenger simply replied, "she is at her headquarters pavilion," it would have served admirably) and so quickly found the Enchantress, who was sitting calmly and, evidently, quite at her ease on a low, light chair, her legs stretched out in front of her. Awtlá at once put his nose into her hand; Sireng, for her part, jumped onto Sethra's lap.

  The Warlock bowed and said, "General, for so I believe I ought to address you—"

  The Enchantress shrugged, as if to say that any of a number of ways of addressing her were equally satisfactory.

  "—I hope the battle goes well."

  "Greetings, sir. It is, of course, too soon to say. The battle is fully joined on the Old West Road, and equally so on Lower Kieron. If there is to be an attack on Northgate Road, well, at least it has not yet been launched. I believe you were told that you may now begin—that is to say, you may now bring us what aid you can, in the way that you have so admirable done before."

  "And yet, as I had the honor to tell you yester-day, something is preventing any of my efforts from yielding results."

  "That was yester-day, my dear sir. Have you made the attempt to-day?"

  "I have, in fact."

  "Well then, keep trying. I have reason to hope that, sooner or later—and I hope sooner—you will be able to perform your function."

  "Very good, General."

  "So you will continue to make tests?"

  "I will make one this very instant. You perceive, General, that I should like nothing better than to be of service. And I will not delay in letting you know if I fail."

  "Well, that is good, if you fail. But, you perceive, I should also wish to know if you succeed, because I may then adjust my tactics accordingly."

  "Oh, if I succeed, I do myself the honor to believe you will be aware of it very soon. Indeed, I beg leave to insist that, in that case, there will be no possible room for doubt."

  "Then the results will be sufficiently dramatic?"

  "I give you my word upon it."

  "Very well. I depend upon you, sir."

  "You may, General."

  Brimford then gave a silent command to Awtlá and Sireng, letting them know what he wished of them, at which time these strange, enigmatic animals ran through the camp, onto the road, and so into the forests to the northwest of Adrilankha. The warlock, for his part, was preparing to test once more his particular species of enchantment when a messenger appeared out of the pavilion tent behind the Enchantress.

  As we have said before, this wa
s the battle where the powers of telepathy, as it is called, that is, the ability for an individual to converse with another without physical proximity, was first used. Having said so, we will say two words about how this was done.

  Sethra Lavode had recognized at once the degree to which such communication might help to contrive a favorable outcome to a battle—indeed, it is reported that she observed to Her Majesty that the ability to instantly send and receive messages could be oft more importance in a battle than the destructive powers of sorcery in all of their fury. She had, therefore, well before she knew that Kâna would be making an assault against which she would be forced to arrange a defense, begun the work to provide such communication. For this reason, the Enchantress had, beginning months before, instituted the training of what she called a "communication corps" numbering some fifty or fifty-five sorcerers under the tutelage of a certain Hawklord called Paarfi of Hovaal (no relation, we should add, to the author of these words). By time of the battle, then, there were several pairs of "mutual adepts" as the Enchantress called them, or "adepts" as they were informally called—sorcerers who could bespeak each other as easily as you are I might hold a conversation face-to-face (indeed, easier, if this conversation were to be attempted in a crowded jug-room).

  With the battle at hand she made arrangements for a special sort of messenger to be posted near her. Each of these messengers had at least a certain skill in sorcery—which, while not strictly necessary for psychic communication, does significantly aid it, as was proven as far back as the Ninth Cycle by the Athyra Marquis of Trigaar. Some twenty of these sorcerers remained at all times with the Enchantress, sitting in the pavilion tent playing quoins-of-four while the battle i on the road not a mile away. From time to time, one would receive a communication from a fellow adept, and would at once leave the game to speak with the Enchantress. It was just such a sorcerer, or "adept" as we have called him, who appeared at that moment, approached the commanding general, and waited to be recognized.

  "Speak," she said.

  "I have a report from the harbor."

  "Very well."

  "Enemy boats have been sighted, apparently to attempt a landing, numbering some six hundred and fifty or seven hundred. They are expected to land in ten minutes. The reserves have been called up and are marching toward the harbor."

  Sethra stared at the messenger for a moment, then said, "May I beg you to repeat the number."

  "Six hundred and fifty or seven hundred, General."

  "Is that seven hundred troops, or seven hundred boats?"

  "Why, that is to say, boats, General. Or so I understood the message."

  "Be so kind as to confirm that."

  "At once, General."

  Lord Brimford, who had not yet left to begin his work, turned to Sethra and said, "Is it possible?"

  "In all honesty, I do not see how. Unless—"

  "Yes? Unless?"

  "Unless the Pretender has formed an alliance with Elde."

  "Could he have made such an alliance?"

  "If he has, well, he must have made more than a few concessions. I shudder to think of what he must have promised, and I shudder again to think of what will happen to the Empire if these promises are fulfilled."

  The messenger said, "It is confirmed, General. The observers do not yet know how many warriors are in each boat, though they say it seems to be more than twenty."

  "The Gods!" cried the Warlock. "What shall we do?"

  "We shall depend upon Lord Khaavren's advice," said Sethra coolly. "And you shall begin your enchantment." To the adept, she said, "They are making for the East Harbor, I presume?"

  After the instant it took to relay messages, the adept said, "Yes, General."

  "Very well," said Sethra.

  Brimford recovered from his momentary astonishment, bowed, and took two steps away, going behind the pavilion in which the sorcerers continued their game. Here he simply sat upon the ground, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. The dog and the cat had already run off, in different directions, in order to infiltrate the jungles and wooded areas, and to be his eyes and ears. He began to attempt his spell once more, and, though his contact with his familiars was unbroken, he had no better results than he had achieved previously.

  The Enchantress, however, had told him that he ought to keep trying, and so that is what he did. As Kâna caused his signal to be given to set in motion a certain prepared plan from which he hoped to achieve great results, and as the Imperial forces were gradually driven backward toward the fortifications, Brimford patiently attempted to exert his influence upon the tiassa, dzur, bear, wolverines, darr, greensnakes, and other animals who would be able to fall upon the enemy with such effect.

  And still he could do nothing.

  It lacked an hour of noon, and the assault from Elde Island would land at any instant, and the full degree of Kâna's treachery had yet to be revealed. And, perhaps more significant, the raid by which Kâna hoped to achieve his ultimate result was only now about to begin.

  Sethra Lavode, and Her Majesty, and the Imperial forces in general, were not in the least aware of what was about to be unleashed against them.

  Chapter

  the Eighty-Ninth

  how the direct attack on the orb was organized

  We hope the reader has not forgotten Lieutenant Tsanaali, with whom Pel had exchanged such words that neither of them could doubt the other's opinion of him, and, moreover, the individual in whose mission Kâna and Habil had expressed such hope.

  At this instant, as battle raged around Adrilankha and slaughter raged in the East, Tsanaali's thoughts were on neither Pel nor Kâna, but, purely and simply, on his mission.

  We have shamefully misled the reader if we have failed to establish that this Dragonlord was not only as courageous as that species invariably is, but also thorough and methodical in his planning. He had taken his time in learning the city, so that not only could his small troop remain hidden until the chosen moment, but also so that they would be able, at the proper time, to make their way to the Manor without running into the street patrols that Tsanaali had anticipated, or without the need to cross any of the bridges, where he knew there could be certain difficulties.

  As we look upon him now, he is sitting in an attitude of complete relaxation—indeed, his eyes are nearly closed, as if he is so unconcerned by the mission upon which is about to embark as to have difficulty remaining awake. To a degree, this was because he had the sort of cool disposition that did not, in fact, become overly concerned or agitated in such circumstances (as opposed, for example, to either Kâna or his cousin); but another reason was, undoubtedly, his understanding that the display of such an attitude could not fail to have a beneficial effect on his subordinates.

  These subordinates had already begun to arrive at the small house which opened onto an alley behind Tenfingers Road in the southwestern part of the city. Each time another arrived, Tsanaali would open an eye, grunt a greeting, and then return to his apparent nap, sitting on a rickety-looking wooden chair with his feet, crossed at the ankles, up on a table.

  At length, with something like the sigh or soft groan one might make upon coming from a light nap to wakefulness, he put his feet down, stood, clasped his hands together behind his back, and said, "Gentlemen, it is very nearly time, and, moreover, it seems we are all gathered here—that is, there are twenty-one of us, including myself and the signal officer who is on the roof watching for the signal, which, being four squads of four, is exactly the number we ought to have. Indeed, everything is in place, and we only await the word to go—which word we will receive from our signal officer."

  "That is all very well, Lieutenant," said one of the soldiers (for they were all soldiers, although, to be sure, they were dressed, as were the others, as simple noblemen, in doublet, breeches, and tall black boots), "but, well, what is the mission?"

  "Oh," said Tsanaali, "you wish to know that?"

  "Well," said the other, "you perceive we have been in this
city, hiding and staying out of trouble—"

  "For the most part," said another.

  "—for weeks now, and we have avoided all meeting at once, and have merely been waiting. But now that it is nearly time to carry out the mission for which we have been brought here, well, we will be better able to carry it out if we know what we are doing."

  "That is very true," said the officer, struck by the extreme justice of the remark.

  "So then?"

  "Why, I will discover it to you this very instant."

  "In that case," said the soldier, "you will have, I promise you, our entire attention."

  "Then, gentlemen, this is it: You know that His Majesty, Kâna the First, who has won the right to the throne through conquest, is being deprived of the Orb because of a successful adventure on the part of an ambitious Phoenix."

  "We know this very well," said the soldiers.

  "So then, it remains for His Majesty to fight one final battle to put away all doubts in the hearts of those who believe the Orb, a powerful sorcerous artifact and symbol of the Empire, confers a sort of divinity upon its wielder—in other words, that whoever happens to have the Orb deserves the throne in spite of law and blood, merely by that fact alone."

  "It is true," said one of the soldiers, "that many people believe that; I have heard such talk frequently."

  "And you did not dispute it, did you?"

  "No, Lieutenant. Your orders were to engage in no such disputes by word or action, in order to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. And we have obeyed your orders to the letter even when this obedience required us to listen to the most insulting conversation concerning His Majesty. The proof of can be found in my mouth."

  "Your mouth?"

  "Exactly. I have ground my teeth and bitten my lips sufficiently to provide irrefutable evidence that I have obeyed your orders, and I believe my comrades are in the same condition."

  "And you have done right, however much your mouth may regret it. But that time is over, my friends. The battle has, even now, begun."