by Tony Roberts
Extonos smiled faintly. “And the prayers?”
“Yes, yes, it shall be done, but one small official temple will not suffice for long. The small places of worship we’ve been able to build recently are ill equipped to deal with the demands of the populace. The priesthood will need to grow and reach all of Bathenia. Too much has been allowed to wither, Governor.”
“In time, High Priest, in time. Now, I don’t think I need detain you here any longer. You have work to do. My offices have work foremen who can arrange the labour force necessary to build your temple.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you. Please pass my gratitude to the emperor.”
Evas inclined his head and the High Priest left, mumbling his thanks to the gods that at last his entreaties had brought forth results. Demtro smiled sardonically. “You’ve made his day, Governor. Perhaps for a while the anti-Koros tone of his speeches may go?”
“We can but hope, merchant. Now to other matters. I trust you were satisfied at the burning down of the ‘Black Rodent’?”
“Indeed,” Demtro nodded. It had brought the result he’d hoped for. His mind took him back a couple of sevendays to the night the tavern had been scheduled to burn. One of Evas’ men had gone inside incognito and set fire to the ground floor at the rear before escaping. The building, being old and ramshackle, had gone up like a beacon. More of Evas’ men had been on hand – miraculously – to raise the alarm and drag the people out before anyone had been burned.
Demtro had appeared and ploughed into the smoking tavern and gone up the stairs two at a time, pushing past a few of the panic-stricken patrons trying to flee. One he’d had to smack in the face to get past. He’d barrelled to Clora’s ‘working room’ and almost taken the door off its hinges, coughing at the smoke. The room hadn’t yet been affected much and Clora and a client had been too busy together to really notice the shouts and smells, but they quickly got off the bed and hauled their clothes on once the seriousness of the situation became clear. The client had fled, his shirt still in his hand, while Clora was hindered by her dress, having to button up the one-piece outfit she’d got whilst at Demtro’s, and asking why Demtro was there.
“Later,” Demtro had snapped, putting a wormspun scarf over his mouth as the smoke began billowing into the room. “The place is going up! C’mon, let’s get out of here!”
Stunned and confused, Clora had meekly allowed herself to be taken by the hand and dragged along the smoky passageway and down the stairs. Most of the others had gone by now and the flames were spreading up into the roof. Once they got up there the building would turn into a huge pyre in no time. Clora coughed and bent over, unable to go any further, and Demtro had picked her up and carried her out over his shoulder.
As he had emerged into the clear night air with relief, the captain of the guard had caught his eyes and Demtro had nodded once. The captain had grinned, having been in on the real reason why the tavern had been targeted for destruction, but he was glad anyway, having got fed up with the activities of the undesirables of Niake. He’d taken the opportunity to arrest known felons as they had staggered out of the building. Too many times the criminals had melted away via the back or side doors or taken refuge in the tavern’s many secret hiding places to avoid arrest. Not now. They had little chance of scuttling into the nearest lair.
Sword-bearing imperial soldiers had pinned the men they were after against the walls of the houses opposite and identifying who was who and what they were wanted for. The city jail would be full to bursting that night.
Demtro had taken Clora to a nearby drinking fountain and set her down, wetting a cloth and wiping her smoke-blackened face. After a few moments she had come round, her eyes wide and alarmed. “What – where am I?”
“Safe,” Demtro had assured her. “The Black Rodent has burned down.”
“Oh!” Clora had looked lost. “My home! My livelihood! All gone!”
Demtro had shrugged. “At least you’re alive, Clora. Maybe a chance to rebuild your life? Anyway I saved you from being burned in there. Lucky I was close by. Saw it going up and followed the city guard. I thought of you and got in there just in time.”
Clora had looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “But I’ve nowhere to go, Demtro!”
Demtro had stood up. “How could anyone turn you away, Clora? You’re beautiful. You’ll be fine.” He had then turned away to walk home, whistling a tune. His ears though were pricked to listen for any sound from behind, and sure enough he had heard the patter of small feet chasing him. “Demtro!” Clora had said in a sobbing voice. “Wait!”
The merchant had turned and looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Yes?”
“Please – take me back!”
Demtro had spread his hands wide. “But you don’t want to work for me, and I accept that. I’m not going to force you to come back against your will, Clora.”
“Please! I’m-I’m sorry – I will work for you – please!”
Demtro had paused, as if weighing up the merits, and Clora had actually gone down on her knees and sobbed at his feet. Demtro had decided enough was enough at being a manipulating beast, and had picked her up. “Alright, Clora, I’ll take you back – but no more of your tantrums and saying you’ll not do this or that. That’s my final offer.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do anything you ask – just please take me back!” Clora’s face had been wet with tears.
Demtro had gently wiped them away and taken her under his arm. He’d started walking back towards his home. “Now, less of the tears, young lady, I think you need a nice warm bed and hot cup of klee. You’ve had a nasty shock and Demtro knows the perfect cure for that. What say you?”
Clora had nodded vigorously and huddled in under his arm, just glad to have a guardian and roof over her head.
Demtro’s mind brought him back to the present. He was content. The girl was once again settled in his home and keeping him happy at nights. Some of that had been down to Clora’s gratitude in saving her life and taking her back, and some down to Demtro giving her some more tuition in pleasuring people. “Did you unearth some of the enemies of the Empire?”
Evas nodded. “Amongst some of the worst criminals in Niake. The militia is overjoyed at having these felons in their hands at last. Your tip-off appears to have been on the money, to borrow a phrase you merchants are fond of using.”
“Very good, Governor. So, I trust that you will remember that and grant me the first concession on the trade agreements coming from the Tybar lands in the near future.”
Evas sighed and nodded. “Presumably the trade agreement will be signed shortly.”
“It has been. I learned yesterday that it was signed in Kastan city. You’ll be getting the official version tomorrow, when the imperial courier arrives from Aconia.”
The governor gave Demtro a long look, then grunted. “I must admit to be irritated that you know so much before I do, Demtro. But I’ve come to learn that you’re invariably correct, no matter how outrageous your points appear at first. Two of those we took into custody worked for Lombert Soul and from what my interrogators have managed to extract from them, I am led to believe this Lombert is preparing to cut Niake off from the rest of Kastania. He’s training up a small army, similar to the Duras army in Makenia. I don’t think they’re in collusion but one can never be sure. So, we have no forces here able to confront this man in battle, but Prince Jorqel and his Army of the West in Lodria could take him on. I’ve sent a message north by sea – I don’t trust the overland route at present – to Efsia and I hope the prince is able to come to our aid.”
“That will be to all our profit,” Demtro commented, leaning back comfortably. “The prince will need to show the people here the strength of the Koros, and the new regime’s commitment to protecting the Kastanian people. Nothing helps like confidence in the ruling dynasty.”
Evas agreed. “Once this matter with Lombert Soul is finished, we must look to the borderlands and into the interior. I’m concerned tha
t the Tybar may one day move on us. I’m going to ask for more troops to be able to patrol the roads and valleys of Bathenia. The few units here in Niake aren’t sufficient, you know.”
“Yes I do know that, Governor, but don’t expect any more troops any time soon. The Koros have to pacify Bragal, deal with the Duras, Lombert Soul, and find men to keep the roads of the empire clear. They have just enough to hold onto what they have and garrison the towns and cities. I think you’ll be met with a rebuttal, Governor.”
“As a frontier province we must take priority.”
“What province of Kastania isn’t a frontier province these days, Governor?” Demtro spread his hands wide. “Once, back in the past, many were far from the borders of neighbouring kingdoms, but now every province borders a foreign state. Bathenia is no different to Makenia, or Pelponia.”
Evas digested that. He clearly had something else on his mind. Demtro wasn’t a fool and waited for a few moments, but realised Evas hadn’t the courage to broach the subject first. Demtro cleared his throat. “Something bothering you, Governor? Something delicate?”
The governor looked up from under his eyebrows. “Do you think the rebellion under this Lombert Soul has any chance of success? What if he defeats Prince Jorqel in battle? That would leave the entire west open without any defences apart from the garrison here.”
“Let me get this right, Governor,” Demtro got to his feet and paced back and forth in front of the seated Evas Extonos. “You’re entertaining thoughts of siding with whoever wins the battle between the prince and this Soul fellow, but wonder whether the Koros have the muscle to come over from Kastan to sort out whatever mess that may befall us here should Soul win? And, if so, what would happen to you who threw his lot in with the rebels?”
Evas sat up straight, a shocked expression on his face. “Demtro! How could you think such a treasonous thing?”
“Quite easily, Governor. You’re a weathervane; as trustworthy as a slitherer. You’re well known for changing course when any storm blows your way. The Koros can only count on you for as long as militarily they hold the upper hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Tybar capture Niake that you’d convert to Lamke and become as Tybar as any Tybar. You might even change your name to suit them.”
Extonos was lost for words. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. The guards remained still but their eyes were looking at Demtro in surprise.
Demtro leaned on the wall next to the window and looked out over the city square. “Would the prince lose to Lombert Soul? I doubt it; he’s got the Western Army with him. They’d kick Soul and his army over the mountains. They’re the best we’ve got. They hammered the Fokis army up in Slenna, didn’t they? If I were you I’d worry about keeping on the Koros’ side. Show signs of wavering and they’ll replace you. I know you’re an associate of the emperor going way back but he can’t afford to stoop to cronyism, especially as he’s publicly against it. If a friend of his is no good for the job he’s in, then he’ll be out in no time. Your trouble, Governor, is that you’ve become too used to being a fence-sitter. The fence is wobbling a bit and you’re losing balance. Jump down on the right side. You may have to jump soon anyway. I suspect the prince will call upon your troops to supplement his force to be certain of victory. Refuse, and once Jorqel destroys the rebels, he’ll be coming here for you with a serious matter to discuss. You want that?”
Extonos stared into space. His hands shook. Demtro leaned on the desk top. “Want the good High Priest to jump on your case? Want me to add my weight to his argument against you? You’d be left with no friends and nowhere to go. The last place you’d find yourself is in the brig on an imperial ship sailing back to Kastan City and an interview with a very furious Astiras Koros. Not something anyone who wishes to have a future would wish for.”
Evas nodded, sweating. His course was clear, to borrow a sailing term, but the storms were blowing him one way and then the next. Rocks were to the left and right. He must steer the correct course.
Demtro folded his arms. “You’re Kastanian; forget about betraying the emperor of Kastan. Leave that to traitors and fools. Have the guts to declare publicly who you’re siding with; condemn Lombert Soul. Make it clear he has no place in Bathenia as long as you’re Governor. Put yourself in a good light with the Koros. I leave that to you.” With that the merchant sat down and stretched out his legs. “Now, what about a nice hot cup of klee? I’m parched with all this talking.”
The arrival of the messenger from Zofela brought Amne and Lalaas before General Polak once more. Since the formal signing of the treaty and alliance between Mazag and Kastania, the two Kastanians had been allowed the freedom of Bukrat, now rapidly assuming the appearance of a frontier garrison town. The old slaver market town was gone, and the native population largely dispersed. Amne in some ways missed the old town; the Mazag transformation was harsher, stark and functional. Soldiers marched everywhere, and Mazag traders quickly snapped up what locations they could.
Amne was given the best room in the tavern, guarded by two of Polak’s elite unit, and Lalaas was quartered in the same location, but in the next room. He had full access to her, however, as befitting his position as an imperial guard, which is what Amne insisted he was.
Their return journey hadn’t been decided, given that winter was descending once more onto the land, and Bragal was still in turmoil. Isolated bandit groups were still at large and much of the province was ungoverned and wild. Only in the Zofela region and north of that along the two main routes into Kastania proper could safety be guaranteed. Polak was prepared to give the two a full escort to Zofela, and it seemed likely their route back would be in that direction. Rather than the direct route north, they would ride north-east, then north-west back to the capital. Polak insisted they await the return of the messenger he’d sent to Zofela.
The messenger had now returned, weary but intact. The escort had lost one man to a brigand but they had cut their way through, killing most of the ambushers. Polak vowed to hang all brigands his men found – all to help their honoured allies the Kastanians, of course.
Amne seated herself and politely waited Polak’s words. Her Mazag had improved immensely since she had been in the town, and Polak had complimented her on her adeptness. Lalaas had picked up a few rudimentary phrases, but he hadn’t made too much effort since he was of the opinion he’d be returning to duty in Bragal or Kastania after his task with Amne was through.
“Your highness,” Polak began, studying the parchments he had, “you will be interested in learning the men I sent to Zofela have returned. They delivered my message to your father.”
“And of that traitor Theros,” Amne said brusquely.
“And indeed of Theros,” Polak inclined his head. “As he is now a member of my diplomatic corps I would appreciate a cessation of insults against him.”
Amne pursed her lips. Red stained her cheeks. She fought to control her fiery temper. “Very well, General, as a mark of respect to you, I shall cease at once.”
“Thank you,” Polak smiled briefly. He passed over an unopened message to her. “This came from the Kastanian army currently besieging Zofela. Your father was not there. The message directed to me was signed by a General Teduskis.”
“Teduskis? Oh, yes; he’s in charge there? What has happened to father?” Amne tore open the seal and eagerly scanned the message. Her face clouded. “We are to return to Zofela and await my father’s return. He’s in Kastan City presently but is due to return very shortly. He wishes to see both myself and you, Lalaas,” she looked up at the hunter who was standing by her side. “To clear up allegations made by Theros.”
Lalaas smiled bitterly. “I suspect Theros wishes me put to death.”
Amne slapped the parchment onto the table. “General. I would ask a favour of you.”
Polak looked interested. “Yes, Princess?”
“Please write to my father. I shall take the message myself. Please advise him of the – sympathies of Theros and t
hat Lalaas was unjustly arrested on his recommendation. Your words as an ally and honourable soldier would carry weight to my words when I speak to father.”
Polak chuckled. “Of course, ma’am. I could do nothing else. I have heard of your father, even in Mazag. He has a tough reputation. I would very much like to hear more of what he’s like.”
Of course you would, Amne thought. You see him as a future opponent. She smiled, however. “Once this has been done we should depart. Father would not wish to be kept waiting too long. May I request of you an escort?”
Polak clapped his hands together. “I would allow nothing otherwise! A full escort of fifty men is awaiting your command. I shall extend my compliments to the emperor.”
Amne smiled again. This time they would be properly guarded and the journey shouldn’t take too long. They would be travelling on roads rather than going cross-country, and not be slowed down by Theros. “Then tomorrow we leave. I’m eager to see him again after such a long time.”
“So soon? No matter. Will you require a carriage?”
Amne shook her head. “I’m used to equine back. It will be faster. We’ll just need enough food and supplies to get to Zofela. Tell me, General, has your messenger advised you of the situation at Zofela? Will it fall soon?”
Polak grunted. The details given him had been comprehensive. “The land around has been wasted utterly. No structure or tree stands for three stadia or more. Your father has built a fence around the city, very impressively I may add, and his men have also diverted the river away from the city! Astounding! I am envious, I can tell you. The Kastanian army apparently is well supplied and organised and supplemented by mercenaries. Your father has been most efficient. I’m pleased he is an ally.”
