The Lord of Castle Black: Book Two of the Viscount of Adrilankha
Page 23
“But—ah, I had forgotten. The Palace, the city is no more.”
“You speak of the old Palace, the old city.”
“Yes.”
“You must understand, that was before my time.”
“That is true. Your pardon, I was confused. Where is the new Palace to be, and the new Imperial city?”
“For now, Hartre, or, rather, a small village not far from Hartre, where you are to await the result of certain negotiations. That is where we are now going. Later, it will be moved to Adrilankha.”
“Adrilankha? That is in the county of Whitecrest, and I do not think His Majesty will have the support the Countess of Whitecrest—we were on tolerably poor terms when I quitted the court.”
“I perceive you have not been entirely out of touch with matters while you were away.”
“Not entirely.”
“She was later exiled from court herself.”
“Was she? That does not displease me.”
“And to answer your point—”
“Yes, the answer?”
“I believe that, when the time comes, the Countess of Whitecrest will not present a problem.”
“Very well, I will accept that. Then we are now bound for Hartre. Well, that it is a tolerably long journey, and so I will prepare myself for it.”
“That is best, I assure you.”
“You have been to Hartre before, my dear Dragonlord?”
“Never. And Your Highness?”
“Yes, several times.”
“Perhaps Your Highness would be good enough to tell me of it, as we travel.”
“If you would like.”
In this way, several hours passed in pleasant enough travel, because Udaar, in fact, truly wished to know about Hartre, whereas Illista, for her part, truly enjoyed speaking before an attentive audience. They spent that evening at a run-down hostelry on the road, where the host, grateful for the custom, made every effort to make his guests comfortable in spite of the condition of the inn, and the next day they continued on the road.
“You seem lost in thought, my friend,” said Illista.
“Well, I am.”
“And might I inquire as to these thoughts?”
“Well, I will explain, and, once I have done so, you will see at once why I am thinking my own thoughts.”
“Bah. As if you could think another’s!”
“I mean that I am thinking thoughts that I do not wish to share, that is all.”
“I understand that, only the expression is absurd.”
“I do not deny that.”
“Very well, explain then.”
“Explain?”
“Explain what has caused you to think these thoughts you do not wish to share.”
“Very well. If all is on schedule—”
“Yes? If all is on schedule?”
“Today is the day His Majesty’s forces should be attacking Dzur Mountain, and, therefore, today is the day that the Orb will fall into his hands, and the Empire will be secured. Now do you see why I seem busy with my thoughts?”
“Yes, I understand completely. It will be annoying to have to wait several days for messengers to arrive with the results of the battle.”
“It will not be so long. With the Favor, we should know quickly enough.”
“How is this possible?”
“Can you be unaware that the Orb has returned?”
“You mentioned something of this fact, yes.”
“Well, but can you be unaware of the sensation of its presence?”
“Nearly. I have had no sensation of citizenship since my exile.”
“Ah. Well, His Majesty will remedy this situation.”
“That is good.”
“For now, you must understand that I am very much aware of my own citizenship, and there will be no difficulty to communicate with His Majesty on the results of the battle.”
“Ah. I see what you mean. But then, if the battle is not successful—”
“Not hearing of the results will tell us the results.”
“Yes, I understand. And then?”
“If that is case, you have been asked to remain at the hostelry toward which we now drive until we get a message to you.”
“Very well. And do you know what this message will be?”
“Not precisely, Your Highness, but I have been given to understand that Habil—”
“Who?”
“Kâna’s cousin.”
“Very well.”
“I have been given to understand that Habil has developed what she calls ‘contingencies’ and that you are part of these.”
“It is good to have contingencies, and I have no objection to being included in them, provided, of course, that they do not preclude me from getting what I want.”
“They will not, I am convinced of it.”
“That is good,” said Illista. Then she frowned, and said, “Contingencies.”
“Madam?” said Udaar.
“If the attempt to take the Orb by military means should fail for some reason …”
“Yes, if it should?”
Illista shook her head, and didn’t answer, being busy, for some time, with her own thoughts.
Chapter the Fifty-Third
How the Old Question of Whether
The Ends Justify the Means Is Debated Again,
This Time With the Unique Perspective
Of the Lyorn Expounded Upon in Some Detail
This was the situation as the next day’s morning filtered gently through the Enclouding: Kâna’s forces, under General Brawre, had reached a position a hundred or a hundred and ten miles west of Dzur Mountain. Kâna’s other army, led by Izak, was, at this time, camped just outside of the village of Nacine, which the reader may recall as being on the very doorstep, as it were, of where Morrolan was causing his temple to be built. Also in Izak’s camp that morning was Kâna himself, and the small detachment under Tsanaali. Zerika and our friends had arrived where they had planned, in a place that was also just outside of Nacine, and, in point of fact, less than ten miles from Izak’s outposts.
Morrolan stood upon the roof of the temple he was causing to be built and studied the work Fentor had done and listened patiently while his commander explained the use of the ditches, scaffoldings, buttresses, and other devices of modern military science that this worthy had arranged in only a few days. At last, the commander said, “Well, my lord? Is that sufficient?”
“For what?” asked Morrolan.
“For your understanding.”
“Not the least in the world,” said Morrolan. “But it is of no matter. You say it will do, and I believe you.”
“I did not say it would do.”
“Well, will it?”
“No, but it is the best that can be done.”
“Very well.”
“Then Your Lordship still intends to attack them?”
“I do. And if we must then retreat, well, we now have fortifications to retreat to.”
Fentor bowed, accepting the inevitable. “And may I suggest—”
“Yes?”
“When the battle commences, this will be an excellent place from which to observe.”
“Oh, as to that—”
“Well?”
“I think the front line will be better.”
“My lord? You intend to lead the troops personally?”
“How not?”
Fentor hesitated. He could hardly explain that Morrolan was insufficiently skilled at generalship to be entrusted to make decisions in the field. He cleared his throat and said, “And yet, a position in the rear is better for receiving communications and making decisions.”
“In that case, my dear Fentor—”
“Yes?”
“As you know this business better than I do, I would suggest that you position yourself here.”
“How, me?”
“And why not?”
“Because, my lord, my place is with the men engaged in battle.”
>
“Just so,” said Morrolan.
“And yet, should you be killed—”
“Well? If I am killed, will that make you less able to make decisions? On the contrary, I should imagine that you might better be able to make decisions without my interference.”
Fentor cleared his throat again, as this was uncomfortably close to his own thinking. He said, “If you believe that, my lord, why not—”
“Because it is my army, my fief, and my responsibility. Therefore, so long as I live, the mistakes will be mine.”
“I hope there are none, my lord.”
“I hope so too. Because, understand this: We are not setting out with the intention of fighting a gallant fight and losing. On the contrary, we are setting out with the intention of winning.”
“My lord—”
“Well?”
“I do not know if this is possible.”
“We will see. Be clear on this: I will do anything that is necessary to win. Anything.”
“That is but natural, my lord.”
“Then you agree?”
“We cannot fight with the intention of losing. And, if we wish to win, all else follows.”
“I am glad we have an understanding on this matter. As you are insistent upon being at the battle, I will wish to have you next to me to advise me.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“Are we, then, prepared?”
“The men are ready to move, if that is Your Lordship’s meaning.”
“And we know where the enemy is?”
“We do.”
“Then let us go there and fight him.”
“I shall give the order, my lord.”
“On your way, have Teldra, Arra, the Warlock, and the Necromancer sent to me, and have someone saddle my horse.”
Fentor bowed and retired to carry out his orders. Presently, those Morrolan had named had joined him upon the roof of the temple. Morrolan studied them for a moment, as if searching for the words he required. He coughed in confusion, then said, “Arra, is everything arranged?”
“Everything,” she said, “except that we do not know when we are to begin.”
“As to that,” said Morrolan, “word will reach you.”
“Very well,” she said. “We will be ready.”
“And you,” said Morrolan, addressing the Warlock. “You will travel with me?”
“Gladly.”
“And be prepared to aid me as we discussed?”
“Certainly. I have nothing better to do.”
Morrolan turned to the Necromancer and said, “Well?”
“Lord Morrolan?” said the addressed demon in tones simulating human curiosity.
“Will you aid me?”
“My lord, it was for this purpose that I was sent here.”
“How, to aid me?”
“To aid in the restoration of the Empire. That is, the Gods sent me to aid Sethra Lavode, and she, in her turn, sent me here to aid you.”
“You were sent by Sethra Lavode?”
The Necromancer bowed her assent.
“And she pretends that fighting this battle will aid in the restoration of the Empire?”
The Necromancer again indicated that this was, in fact, the case.
Morrolan considered these remarkable revelations, after which he said, “Then you are at my orders?”
“Entirely.”
“That is well, then. I have nothing to say about this Empire, I have not given it full consideration. But I have no interest in bending my knee to this Kâna, whoever he is, and moreover, I feel a certain fondness for Sethra Lavode. So, then, do you recall our last conversation?”
“As if it had taken place yesterday, my lord.”
“The Gods! I hope so, because it did take place yesterday.”
“Ah. Did it, then? I beg your pardon; time sometimes confuses me.”
“In any case, you remember the conversation, and that is all that matters.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good, then. As for you, my dear Teldra—”
“Well?”
“You will remain here, and see that all is in order, in case we must retreat.”
“What must be in order?”
“Listen, and I will explain.”
“Very well, I am listening.”
“First, there must be fresh water in barrels every twenty feet along the entrenchments.”
“The well is full, and, should it run low, the stream is tolerably close. Next?”
“There must be bags of biscuits next to the water barrels.”
“I understand about the biscuits, we have been baking them for three days. What else?”
“Clean linen piled next to the biscuits, to dress wounds.”
“I understand about the linen, and we have a good supply. What else?”
“That is all.”
“I will make the arrangements.”
“You understand what is required?”
“Your Lordship will judge: Water, biscuits, linen.”
“That is it.”
“Very good.”
“All is then ready. I but await word that the army is ready to move.”
Teldra bowed. “Then I have nothing left but to wish you all the best of fortune, my lord.”
The others echoed this sentiment, and, as they were doing so, the signal came that Morrolan’s horse was saddled, and his army was ready to march. In only a few minutes, with no ceremony whatsoever, Morrolan was mounted and leading his force—numbering, we are told, somewhere between three thousands and four thousands—toward their meeting with the forces of the self-styled Emperor Kâna.
Even as Morrolan, mounted, we should add, on a pure-white Megaslep mare, began his march, not far away Grita was leaving the small pavilion-tent that had been arranged for the comfort of him who called himself His Majesty, Kâna. On her way out, she happened to pass a familiar figure.
“Well, Lieutenant,” she said, giving him an ironic bow. “I hope the day goes well for you, and that we will soon have the opportunity to meet again, as we have agreed.”
For his part, Tsanaali returned both the bow and the irony. “I anxiously await the opportunity to do so—if, indeed, I survive the upcoming engagement.”
“You say if you survive? You, then, fear this little band we face?”
“Them? Not the least in the world. But, rather, I do not consider it impossible that, while I am engaged in defending His Majesty, you will arrange to have me poniarded.”
Grita chuckled. “Am I to be insulted by this?”
“There is no need to waste time with such pretense.”
“You, however, would never do such a thing to an enemy—dispatching him with guile?”
“I would never achieve a victory at the cost of my honor; that is the difference between us.”
“Is that it? Do you think, perhaps, that there is also this difference: I am determined?”
“And I am not?”
“You carry out your duties as well as you can, being certain that you are never required to do anything on a certain list, a list of things a nobleman wouldn’t do. Whereas I—”
“Yes, you?”
“I intend to accomplish what I have set out to accomplish, and I do not let obstacles deter me—whether the obstacle is imposed from without, or is only in the mind.”
Tsanaali shrugged. “You have only re-stated what I did you the honor to explain before.”
“Have I? Well, Lieutenant, so long as there is a difference, I am content.”
“I am glad that you are. Then, until we are able to meet under circumstances more to our liking, I bid you—”
“Ah, but a moment, before we conclude this charming conversation.”
“Yes, madam?”
“I was bidden to find you by His Majesty, and to require you to wait upon him. As I find you so near to him, my task is thus made easier.”
“I shall do so at once.”
“So much the better, for it is
now nearly full morning, and a fine time to finish the business.”
“Yes. And afterward, our own business.”
“We have already agreed upon that, Lieutenant; it is useless to repeat it. Besides, I think you will have other things to occupy your mind after you speak with His Majesty.”
Tsanaali frowned. “Explain.”
Grita shrugged. “I only mean that the Emperor will have some very specific instructions for you; instructions that will keep you busy enough not to worry about personal errands.”
“And how is it you know so well His Majesty’s intentions?”
“Because it was I who suggested to him the mission.”
“Mission?”
“Yes.”
“What is this mission?”
“There is a noble lady who must be protected, and brought to His Majesty.”
“And you said that I should be the one to do this?”
“Not in the least. But, after explaining what would be required, he directed me to send for you. And now—”
“Well?”
“You are keeping him waiting, and that will not do at all, you know.” And before the officer could say another word, she had continued past him and on her way.
As Tsanaali, still scowling, begged permission to come before His Majesty, some few miles away Tazendra was sitting in the shade of a droopy old willow sharpening her sword. This willow was at the top of a small hill—a very small hill, more of a mound—with something like a glen below it with a quite respectable stream or brook running at its feet, and some number of other deciduous trees, mostly willows, camped about to keep watch on the hill. Tazendra, and the rest of our friends, had made a sort of encampment on both sides of the brook.
Pel approached her as she was just completing her task and she looked up, saying, “Is it, then, time to move?”
“Nearly,” said Pel.
“Bah. It has been nearly time for a hundred years.”
“Well, you perceive there is no hurry. We know where they are, and—”
“Do we?”
“Assuredly. Khaavren and Piro did the scouting themselves.”
“Ah! The father and the son. Well, that is good then. I sometimes regret that I have no son or daughter, you know. Do you have such regrets?”
“I? No, I have never given the matter any thought. But you know, it is not too late.”
“For me? Oh, yes. There is only one man I should have considered marrying, and he is not of my House, so the matter is completely impossible.”