by Chris Bunch
“We shall discuss this further, and perhaps I can add to your knowledge. I note from your speech that you are from Cimabue, eh?” I braced myself for some probably generous but demeaning comment, but instead Tenedos said, “Then we shall be the closest of associates and in time, I hope, friends, for I, too, am from a land far from the cabals and conspiracies of Nicias and consequently am frequently chaffed about my origins. I am from the islands of Palmeras.”
I knew the lands he spoke of, but only from my map-reading classes at the lycee. They are a cluster of islands off Numantia’s western shore, the largest giving its name to the archipelago. The inhabitants are nearly as maligned as Cimabuans, infamous for their long memories for a wrong, their willingness to take injury, and their hotheadedness. On the other hand, they’re also noted for loyalty to a friend and truthfulness, in so long as it does not interfere with righting a wrong. Also like Cimabuans, they’re looked at in Nicias as distinctly lesser beings instead of as fellow Numantians.
“As for that great insult I laid at your feet, allow me to explain why I erred after we have dealt with this mess.”
We treated our wounded and put our wounded animals out of their agony. There were no Men of the Hills to succor — their wounded had either been dragged away by their fellows, crawled off, or been killed. War is ruthless on the Frontiers; our wounded would have been treated similarly, although their deaths would not have been the quick ones my soldiers granted.
After that the wagon in the river was righted, and such goods as could be salvaged brought ashore. There were enough bullocks surviving to pull all the wagons, although our pace would be slowed since two of them must be linked in tandem.
The corpses of the two elephants were dragged together by teams of bullocks. I spared a moment to pray that the brave soul of that animal who’d attempted to join my charge would be advanced on the Wheel, and perhaps return as a babe who would grow to be a warrior.
Then the bodies of the bullocks, horses, and men were stacked around the elephants. Already the hot sun was making the blood-stink rise.
Tenedos ordered a chest taken from a wagon, and took out certain items. He sprinkled oil on some of the bodies, then found a small twig, and touched it to the drying blood of men, horses, oxen, and elephants in turn, then finally to a bit of the oil.
He said he was ready, but first he asked if I could assemble my men, as he had a few words to say. It was unusual, but I obeyed, leaving only the sentries to watch for another attack and for our infantry coming up the pass road.
“Men of the Ureyan Lancers,” he began, and once more his voice was magically enhanced, so it rang across the valley. “You have served Laish Tenedos well, and your deeds shall never be forgotten. You are warriors, real Numantians, and I am proud to know you, and count you my comrades, even though we met but a few hours ago on this battleground.
“I am a seer, and I will make you a promise, now, here, and seal it in the blood of our fallen comrades. There are great times ahead, great deeds to be done and great prizes to be reaped. You, who have shown your courage and loyalty this day, I hope shall be among those who are richened by what is to come.
“I sorrow with you for your brothers who fell today, although their return to the Wheel is blessed, for they died doing good, and this will be remembered by the gods. Perhaps they shall return, and be among us once more, and live in the glorious times that shall come.”
He bowed his head, and we did the same. I marveled at his words — it was as if Tenedos were commander of this troop or a general instead of some diplomat we had been ordered to escort just as we’d done for others from the court of the Rule of Ten. I had heard other soft-handed shifting-eyed government emissaries blather about how they were soldiers at heart, and seen the rudeness or quiet contempt their words were held in. But not now, not by any of the Lancers, nor by me. Laish Tenedos might dress as a government officer, but he spoke as a true leader, and I began to believe I would follow and obey him gladly.
Tenedos had set up a brazier, and he kindled it with a spark-thrower. A small flame rose, and he chanted:
“Listen, unguent.
Feel the warmth
Feel the flame
You serve the gods.
You carry our lost
You serve Saionji.
Fire, burn
Fire, serve.”
As he spoke, he touched the twig to the tiny flame on the brazier, and as he did a great fire roared into life on the nearby pyre, soaring high into the sky, far higher than any oil-fed flame could.
Tenedos watched, and a grim smile touched his lips.
“Now, let that be seen in Nicias as a portent of what is to come,” he said quietly, and I doubt if anyone besides myself heard him.
We moved a short distance upriver, away from the flames, but close enough so we could see the ford, and set up defensive positions. I made sure my sentries were properly posted, then found a rock to sit on while Tenedos’s cook, assisted by a few of my men who claimed ability over a camp fire, prepared dinner from the luxurious viands the resident-general had been carrying. Tenedos had told me to take whatever was needed for dinner, saying, “What might have been a boon to the Achim Baber Fergana is better suited as provender for your honest man.” Once more, what might have been empty hyperbole I felt to be honest praise.
Tenedos approached. “Now,” he said, “since we have a few moments of peace, and there is no one within listening range, I shall explain why I said what I said when we met.”
He asked permission to sit, and I waved him to another rock, hoping I’d get a full explanation. I did, but it was as odd as his behavior.
“Have you ever known a man who suddenly decided all the world and all the gods had turned against him and were conspiring to destroy him?”
I had, at the lycee. One of the more promising cadets had gotten the idea the staff was trying to poison him, and he was warned by secret messages from the gods who wrote in private letters of flame across the sky. Seers and herbalists tried to treat him, but with no success, and he was returned to his sorrowing family. A few months later we were told that he’d killed himself, in a frenzy of terror because he now believed even his own blood was involved with the plot. I nodded.
“Good. So then be aware some of what I’m going to say may well sound mad. I will only ask that you keep your judgment of my madness to yourself, and do nothing about it until I’m completely irrational — or else proven to be right.”
I was looking at the Seer Tenedos with a bit of alarm by now. That sun-smile flashed again, and I felt warmed, and somehow knew Tenedos was sane, perhaps more so than I was.
“I’ll start my argument at the beginning.
“Don’t you consider it odd a seer like myself has been appointed to the position of resident-general?”
I did, but assumed Tenedos had some friends in the government, and this was a political payment, even if most Numantians would consider it as valuable a gift as a quadruple amputee would think scabies.
“That’s hardly the experience one would wish a man to have for such a posting, unless it were to a land ruled by sorcerers, which Kait is not,” Tenedos went on. “The reason I was chosen for this post, most dangerous and as far away from Nicias as it is possible to get, is I am an unpopular man with radical ideas.”
That, just from his behavior, I might well have assumed. I guess my opinion was obvious, because again Tenedos smiled.
“I was sent out here so honest Nicians would no longer be exposed to my heresies. I also now believe I was intended to die, considering those ‘special’ orders I received telling me to leave at once without waiting for my military escort, and of the obviously nonexistent safe passage.
“I could now suggest more evidence. I mean no offense, Legate Damastes á Cimabue, but I find it very unusual to see a full troop of cavalry commanded by a very junior officer, let alone if his column includes infantry, with a captain at its head, almost as if that legate were being set up to be t
he skittle the balls will be rolled at.”
I kept my face stony.
“Very good, Legate,” Tenedos approved. “I would have been surprised and disappointed if you’d made any response. Let me ask a few questions. You only need respond if the answer is yes to any of them: Are you a particular favorite in your regiment? Has your unit suffered a lot of casualties recently among the officer corps? Are you known as having any great skills in dealing with obnoxious and arrogant emissaries such as myself?”
Perhaps a smile came and went at that last, but I remained silent.
“Also as I expected,” Tenedos said. “Let us make some assumptions. The first is the Rule of Ten was accurate when they said Kait, the Border States, is preparing to rise once again. Let us further suppose,” Tenedos continued, “the Rule of Ten might wish to crush this unrest with an iron boot heel, such as has not been done for a generation or more. If that were the case, would not the death of their envoy be a perfect reason for sending the heavy battalions, not merely a punitive expedition, into Kait?
“With that as Numantia’s reason, the Kaiti could appeal to Maisir all they wished, but it would be unlikely King Bairan would respond. Ah, I see you are unaware the Kaiti have always played Numantia and Maisir against each other, so neither country can bring the Border States into its dominion without the risk of offending its great neighbor.
“The murder of a resident-general might also be enough of a reason for the state of Dara to finally extend its borders to include Urey, and end the three-sided argument between us, Kallio, and Maisir about its proper ownership.”
“I know nothing about such things,” I said. “I am but a soldier, and not political.”
This time Tenedos’s smile was pitying.
“Damastes, my friend,” he said, and his voice was soft, “the time is coming near when all Numantians will have to be political.”
He was about to go on, but a sentry cried out that Captain Mellet’s column was coming up the road, and in minutes the dust-boil was close enough for us all to make it out.
I had not expected the infantry until the next day, but Mellet said he had been shamed by my dash, and had forced double-speed on the marching soldiers, even allowing them, five at a time, to ride on the carts for a break, and chancing ambush by marching an hour after dark and an hour before sunrise. “I thought,” he said, “that’d be unexpected of us, and so the hillmen might not have time to set their traps, and so it’s proven.”
Camp routine and determining the new order of march occupied the rest of the day. All the while, I kept working at Seer Tenedos’s words. I am not a swift thinker; all know that. But I am most thorough, and worry at something until it comes clear in my mind. But what Tenedos had said was still puzzling me when the sun rose and we set off toward Sayana.
Now that we did not have to race on, we could move as common practice and logic dictated, putting flankers out when the country was open, and sending pickets to take each hilltop before we passed under it. The country was less sharp, less broken, so the peaks took less time to clamber up and down, and we made acceptable speed.
The first two villages we passed were as the first: deserted except for babes, women, and ancients. The tribes were planning something, and I hoped it was longer-ranged than the obliteration of my command.
The third village was as the other two — almost. Laish Tenedos was riding in front, beside me, on Rabbit. I cannot say I heard anything, but turned for some reason, and saw a boy appear from behind a wall, drawing an old bow nearly as big as he was, aimed full at my chest! I had no time to duck aside, and knew my doom, hearing warning shouts from the column when the rotten wood snapped in two, just below the grip. The boy shouted with rage, and was about to dart away when Lance Karjan swept up at the gallop and caught the lad by an arm, pulling him, kicking and squirming like an eel, up across his saddle.
I dismounted, and walked to Karjan’s horse. I grabbed the boy’s hair and lifted his head, so I could see his face.
“So you wanted to kill me?”
“Chishti!” the boy swore. Chishti is a very rude word in one of the hill dialects used to describe a man who has slept with his mother. “Chishti Numantian!” What more reason could he need?
Tenedos laughed. “A lion cub always thinks he’s full grown, doesn’t he?”
“Shall I kill ‘im, sir?” Lance Karjan growled, hand on his dagger.
“No,” I said. “Set him down. I don’t murder babes.”
The soldier hesitated, then obeyed, tossing the boy down with one hand. He should have sprawled, but twisted in midair, and landed on his feet. He stood half-crouched, exactly like a trapped beast of prey.
“Go on,” I said. “When you try again, remember to use a bow that’s been oiled, not your grandfather’s that’s dried on the wall for a generation.”
For this advice the boy spat in my face, and was gone, disappearing into a twisting alley between huts before I could wipe my eyes clear.
“Thus,” Tenedos said, mock-mournfully, “is how mercy is returned in these hills. Perhaps you should have killed him, Legate. Cubs grow to be lions, and then are hellish to hunt down.”
“Maybe I should have,” I said, taking a canteen from Lucan’s saddle and sluicing the spittle off my face. I saw from the expression on Lance Karjan’s face that he agreed completely with that. “But I’ll chance the boy remembers what I did, and maybe, when he grows up, if he grows up, which seems unlikely in these lands, will return my boon to someone.” I glanced at Karjan. “Don’t bother showing me what you think of that idea, soldier. And thank you for being so quick. Next time, I must be a little swifter.”
I got a smile from the bearded cavalryman, and we rode on. Indeed, the People of the Hills were all the same. No doubt the women and the old ones were uniformly wishing they could have a dagger and one minute’s chance at one of us with our back turned, and then two minutes to rifle the corpse.
Sulem Pass opened out, until it was almost a mile wide, the hills around it low and rolling; so as long as we carefully approached the roadside gullies that cut the land like knife scars, we would have adequate warning of an attack.
Laish Tenedos rode in silence for a while, then said, “Now that boy poses a good riddle for a judge who has yet to take his appointed bench. Should I be merciful, and pray this changes the endless back-and-forth of murder begetting more murder causing still more bloodshed? Or should I choose the other way of ending these problems? Dead men carry no feuds.”
I did not wish to comment, but that did give me an opening. “Yesterday, sir,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “you said you hold radical ideas. There are many people who believe many things in Nicias, some far beyond radical, but the Rule of Ten does not generally silence them, or … send them out to be slain, until they have a following, or at any rate a chamber where audiences may gather.”
“A good point, Damastes.” This was the second use of my first name, and from then on it was continual, except in formal circumstances, most unusual for the vast difference in rank between us. But for some reason it seemed proper. “I’ll tell you a bit of myself.
“I am from Palmeras, as I said. Of my family, I’ll say nothing now, save that they gave me enough money so I could devote myself to the study of magic, since I’d shown evidence of the Great Talent as a child and, not understanding me well, left me alone. I returned the favor, although, if circumstances come to pass, I may find use for two of my brothers in the fullness of time.
“When I was sixteen I was fortunate enough to win a competition that enabled me to leave Palmeras for Nicias, and complete my studies.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I dream of my island, and the sharp, dry smell of the rosemary under a summer sun, or the tang of our resiny wine, and wish I’d never left. But even then, I sensed my destiny.”
I’d begun to let go of the idea that Tenedos was a madman, but this word, destiny, made me wonder once more.
“I apprenticed myself to a master
wizard,” Tenedos went on, “and studied under him for five years. When I was twenty-two, I knew I must set my own curriculum, be my own master.
“I traveled for four more years, visiting every state in Numantia, studying the Art under any savant who would have me. But I knew what I sought would lie beyond sorcery, and so I read greatly about our history and especially about our wars.
“Do not sneer, but I sometimes wish my life had taken a slightly different turn, and I came from a military family, because I feel an affinity for the battlefield, for the army. I wondered then, and wonder now, why magic has played so little a part in the great battles, and know, deep in my guts, this shall not always be the case.
“But that is for the future, and I was talking about my past. One day, sitting at the feet of a hermit in faraway Jafarite, I knew suddenly and completely what actions must be taken, and taken quickly, to save my beloved Numantia. I returned to Nicias last year, and that was when my troubles began.
“I set up practice as a seer, but discouraged the common visitor who wanted no more than a love potion or his future cast, and slowly, slowly, began to amass the clients I needed. At first it was a rich man wanting to know if the gods favored a course of action, or a merchant who wanted spells to keep his caravan safe when it went out. I helped, sometimes with sorcery, more frequently with common sense. Then came others, still more highly placed, men in the government. First they wanted potions or spells, then they stayed for my advice on other matters.
“Two of the Rule of Ten I now count as buyers of my wares who also, and more importantly, seem to be listening to my ideas.
“That was why I was sent out from Nicias, Damastes. The others in the Rule of Ten, and those in their hierarchy, are afraid of my words, afraid that the truth they hold will ring true for all of Numantia.”
I looked about nervously, making sure no one else was within hearing. Tenedos saw my concern.
“Don’t worry, Damastes. I’m no streetside crazy, collaring anyone who comes close and spouting his babble. What I am saying is for your ears only.
