by Chris Bunch
“I am Legate Damastes á Cimabue, of the Seventeenth Lancers, and I speak for the villagers of Urey!” I called in return. “You have broken the laws of our land, and you must pay!”
The Wolf roared laughter.
“I am the only law I obey! You are a fool!”
“Return the woman! And pay for your misdeeds,” I called back. “You must also bring gold for the families of the men you slew, and the one you maimed.”
“Leave my land, or you die!”
Clearly, we were not communicating any too well.
“You have four hours to consider,” I came back, I’m afraid rather weakly. All that came back was another laugh. We started away, and very suddenly one of my archers, a very alert man named Curti, cursed and his bowstring twanged. There came a shriek from the tower, and a tribesman flopped forward, from one of the windows, his bow dropping from dead fingers before he’d had time to loose a shaft at me.
I was grateful I hadn’t been stupid enough to use a white flag of truce when I rode up — it might have given the man a better aiming point. But now I had my second lesson in the way war was waged in the Border States.
I went back to the men, and we held a council of war. Our options appeared fairly limited, and none were enchanting. We had the Wolf besieged, but how long could twenty-seven men seal off his stronghold? I assumed no more than a day or so before either his bandits would slip off through secret ways we knew nothing about or, just as likely, we ourselves would be attacked by other Men of the Hills. I doubted if the Wolf had many allies, but figured most of the Highlanders would forget a feud for a chance at the head of a Numantian soldier.
We could attack the tower frontally, and be shot down as we charged.
Or we could give up and retreat.
I would accept none of the three, and set my troops to building a breastwork — carrying rocks to build a low stone wall around a tiny hillock near the redoubt, enough to slow down a charge if we were attacked. There were mutters at my order — since no cavalryman prizes physical labor — which were quickly subdued by the warrants. While they set to work, I went out a few yards and sat studying the tower.
There were two doors, both of wood and certainly heavily barred and blocked from the inside. Would it be possible, come nightfall, to set fire to them? This was doubtful: What could I use for firewood? If I had a seer with me, I could’ve had a spell cast that would have made them roar up in fire, but even so, what would that have given me? There would still be a dozen yards of open land to charge across. I stared on. A slight idea came, and I called for Ysaye.
I pointed to the windows on the third floor, and asked if he thought a man could fit through them. He looked closely, and said yes — if he was thin. Very thin. Troop Guide Bikaner would never make it. I looked at the stonework of the tower.
“Can that be climbed?”
Ysaye didn’t need to look.
“I could climb it. To me, to any Man of the Hills, it would be like a highway. But you … the soldiers? I do not think.”
I did think, having a bit more respect for my men than he did. But what was the possibility of getting enough men to take the tower up the wall in silence? I started to discard that as another stupid idea, then another possibility came.
“Ysaye, would the Wolf fear magic?”
“Of course. Doesn’t the swordsman always worry that one day he will face someone better with the blade than he? But we have none. Unless the legate has talents so far unblossomed.”
“I surely do,” I said firmly. I asked him for the small jar of blue kohl I knew he would have about him, that all the hillmen used to make up their eyes, thinking it made them more handsome. He puzzled, but handed it over.
I sent for Curti, and borrowed one of his arrows. Then, with two other men, I went back to my vantage point and shouted for the Wolf. He came after a bit, pulling his clothes on.
“What do you want, fool? I was just about to enjoy the woman.”
I paid no attention to what he said, and held up my arrow that I’d stained blue with Ysaye’s kohl. I pointed it at the Wolf, then to the four corners of the compass.
“Wolf, O Wolf,” I cried, trying my best to sound like a magician, “this is thy doom, this is thy end. Cease thy sins, make thy peace with Saionji, with Isa, god of war, or hear the Wheel creak. Obey me, O Wolf, and ye shall live. Send forth the woman, send forth the gold, and I shall not loose this arrow.”
The Wolf ducked reflexively behind one of the outcrop-pings, but when nothing happened, he peered out.
“There is no use to hide, O Wolf. Your doom is sealed,” I cried. “Do not make me send forth my arrow, which needs no bow, needs no string, but can seek you out and kill you. O Wolf, there is no shelter from my arrow, there are no walls thick enough to keep you safe. O Wolf, hear me, and obey! Do not make me send forth my arrow!”
He waited for a spell, then started laughing, bellowing, and I half-hoped he’d strangle himself.
Without making an answer, he vanished.
I walked back to the men. Troop Guide Bikaner made sure none of the men could hear him, and said, quietly, “Nice thinkin', Legate. But bluff’ll not crack that one. He’s too hard f’r words. We’ll have t’try another plan.”
I shook my head. “We may, Troop Guide. But not until tomorrow, because my scheme’s just begun.”
I waited until dark, called Ysaye to me, and told him now was the time for him to prove his boasting. I wanted him to climb that tower and perform a certain task.
He paled, and his eyes shifted, and he licked suddenly dry lips before agreeing.
“I will obey, Legate. It shall only take a few moments.”
“I have full confidence in you, Ysaye,” I said. “I’ll go forward with you, and Lancer Curti as well, who shoots most accurately in the dark. He will be able to give you supporting fire if you’re found out. Or …” I let my voice trail away, not needing to add what he would shoot at if Ysaye tried to flee. “If you do not return in one fingerspan of the moon, we shall assume you became lost, and make a great outcry to guide you back.”
His face fell. I’d closed off his possible escape. I took the arrow I’d cast my “spell” on, and told him what to do.
We crept forward. The tower was all alight, and I heard the sounds of laughter and singing. The Wolf’s men weren’t taking my presence heavily.
Ysaye looked at me, at Curti’s ready bow, cast away his robes, and said, “I think, Legate, in another life you were one of us,” and vanished into the darkness. I strained my eyes, and thought, after a bit, I saw something move up the tower wall like a great cautious spider.
Half an hour later, Ysaye reappeared. He was breathing hard and his skin was bruised and scratched.
“I was wrong,” he said, slipping into his clothes. “The climb was almost impossible. I think I am the only man in these hills who could have done it.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, grateful that the darkness hid my grin. “I’ll ensure Domina Herstal hears of your bravery and rewards you — if our plan works.”
We went back to the others and waited. In two hours, the lights began going out in the tower. Then I heard a man scream in sudden terror.
Very good, I thought Now we wait for the dawn.
At sunrise, the door to the tower came open, and the Wolf himself came out. Behind him was a not unpretty young woman I assumed to be Tigrinya, and three men, carrying chests.
I heard the lowing of cattle and saw half a dozen being driven toward us from the village beyond.
As the Wolf came closer I saw he had not slept well — there were great circles under his eyes, and he was deathly pale. In one hand, he held the arrow I’d had Ysaye toss through the upper window of the tower, which must have shocked him when he came on it. I wondered if Ysaye had been lucky enough to throw it into the Wolf’s bedchamber.
I walked to meet him, but stopped well out of sword range, even though neither the Wolf nor his men appeared armed. My archers h
ad arrows nocked.
Without speaking, the Wolf knelt, and held out the arrow.
“O Seer,” he whined, “forgive me my sins. I knew not what mighty wizard I’d offended, and swear on all the gods I shall never offend thee again.
“Take the woman — I swear I treated her gently.
“And here is my gold.” As he spoke, the men opened the chests. “Take all, take what you deem fitting, but leave me my life.”
“I grant you your life, O Wolf,” I said, solemnly. “And I am pleased that you took the warning I was gracious enough to grant you.
“But I still hold this arrow. If I ever hear of your crossing our border and harming the innocent, know I shall launch it, and it shall seek you out and slay you wherever you are.”
“I swear, I swear I shall behave as a man of the law.” There was a pause as he considered, and then cocked an eye up at me.
“At least in Urey.”
“What you do in your own lands matters little to me,” I answered, afraid to really press my luck. The Wolf would never become a sheep.
I ordered the men forward, and they led Tigrinya back to the horses. She seemed angry about something, and pulled away from our assistance. Certainly it appeared as if the Wolf was right: She didn’t appear the victim of rape and savagery.
I looked into the chests, and learned the lot of a petty raider against poor villagers is slim. There were only a dozen gold coins, three times as much silver, and about the same in copper coins. The rest of the chest was full of rubbishy brass jewelry, beads, and gems I thought to be cut glass.
I took the gold and the silver and bade the Wolf sin no more. Bowing and scraping, the Wolf retreated to his redoubt, and I never saw him again, nor heard tales of his reiving against Urey.
We rode back for Tigrinya’s village, slowed by the cattle. I felt pleased with myself: Not only had I accomplished my task easily, but we had done it without any bloodshed in my column. Blood is the natural end of war, certainly, but the less spilled the greater the commander. It is ironic that I always tried to follow that precept, yet served under the bloodiest of history’s leaders.
That night, camping just on the other side of the border, intending to arrive at the village early the next morning, I heard a scuffle from where we’d made a crude tent for the young woman. After a time, Troop Guide Bikaner came to me, barely holding back laughter. I asked him what had happened, and he explained.
It seemed that Tigrinya was most angry. Here she’d had the one adventure of her life, getting out of what Bikaner said she’d called “that gods-damned village I was rotting in,” into the arms of such a romantic rebel, and then we had to show up and ruin her dreams.
“But she’s a wily one, Legate, an’ went an’ offered one of th’ men a chance wi’ her charms if he’d let her ride wi’ him back t’ Renan. Cursed him, an’ then me, most eloquent when we said it could not happen.
“What’ll y’ wager, sir, that within th’ month we’ll see her on Rotten Row wi’ th’ other whores?”
Such were the realities of life along the border.
We returned a sullen Tigrinya to her father, gave the coins from the Wolf to the village chieftain, who seemed very pleased, and I guessed the widows of the slain men would be lucky to see any of the money, and rode back to our cantonment. Domina Herstal nodded approval and allowed I showed signs of learning my job. The regiment adjutant, Captain Lanett, bought me a glass of wine in the mess that night, a glass I was most pleased to drain to the dregs.
My life with the Seventeenth Lancers was beginning.
A month later I scored five goals at rõl and it appeared ended.
SEVEN
SAYANA
Sayana is an old and evil city.
Legend has it the city was built in a single night by a horde of demons, under the control of a master warlock, who was thus able to extend his claws over the entire region and untie it in a commonality of greed and blood lust. This might be true, but as I’d already learned, demons could have taken lessons from these Men of the Hills.
As we rode toward it, the Seer Tenedos told me briefly of its past and at greater length what must concern me to represent the interests of the kingdom of Numantia properly.
Sayana stands on a low rocky plateau that juts from the plains of Kait, the Border States. It’s a walled city, and eminently defensible against foreign attack or the far more common internecine warfare the Men of the Hills call polite society. It controls all approaches to Sulem Pass from the south, so the Kaiti have always been able to dictate who passes between Maisir to the south, and Urey and Numantia to the north.
Kait is a snake’s nest of intertwining clans and families, most of whom seem to have blood feuds with most of the others. Whoever holds the throne in Sayana is called achim, and deemed overlord of the Border States, at least until the next poisoned cup, arrow-dart, or dagger-strike from behind.
The current achim was Baber Fergana, whose history was positively dynastic by Kaiti standards: His family had held the throne for three generations. Baber Fergana, as was customary, had signaled his intent to rule by having all his brothers murdered and his sisters married to peasants. However, unlike his father and grandfather, he’d erred slightly, and a younger brother, Chamisso Fergana, had escaped the slaughter and now held the loyalty of those tribesmen who were not on Baber Fergana’s list of friends, “Sooner or later,” Tenedos said, “either he’ll come down from the hills, take the city, kill his brother, and become the new achim, or else Baber Fergana will succeed in inserting an assassin into Chamisso’s tents, and there shall be peace everlasting until one or another of their children become strong enough to pull sword from sheath … or else woo enough warriors and sorcerers to once again topple what these people think constitutes government.”
This was the normal state of affairs for the Border States, and of tittle concern for Numantia. However, there’d been a new force come into the hills of late, one that worried the Rule of Ten.
This was the Tovieti, which Tenedos told me the Rule of Ten had variously called “a dangerous revolutionary order,” a “cult of fanatics,” and “crazed bandits.” “By which,” he said, a smile touching his lips for a moment, “I took it to mean our rulers are terrified of them.”
Little was known of the organization, save that it was very loose, with cells scattered everywhere, and that most of its members came from the peasantry, the landless, and the lower classes. Its prime tenet was that those who followed its banner would inherit all from the rich — not in some future paradise, but right now, and might speed that inheritance by killing anyone whose goods they desired, “except, of course,” Tenedos went on, “those who also espouse their creed.” They also required absolute loyalty and obedience to their leaders and complete secrecy about the organization.
I listened, but without a great deal of concern; it’d seemed my betters were always going on about some nefarious organization that was about to attack the state or at any rate absolutely corrupt the morals of the citizenry. As a soldier, I paid polite attention, but until I was actually faced with these folks as real enemies, and not chimerical apparitions of a fevered politician, I didn’t waste time peering under my bed for these mischief-makers.
I suppose my unconcern showed itself to Tenedos, who I’d already seen was an astute reader of men’s countenances. “There’s been more than just scare-talk,” he said. “The Tovieti have killed across the borders of the Border States into Urey, Dara, and even Kallio, or so the Rule of Ten’s agents have reported. Most of the victims have been merchants whose caravans or houses were stripped bare, with nothing left but the bodies.
“The Tovieti kill by strangling with a yellow silk cord, when they can, and the cord is left knotted around the neck of their victims.
“The agents’ reports also say the murderers have powerful magic on their side, since not one of them has been caught making his kill. Also, when their tracks are followed, they vanish inexplicably.
“I
myself wonder just how ambitious a pursuit some village warden would mount after finding, say, half a dozen merchants dead and their gold and trade goods vanished, but I was assured that the reports of the Rule’s agents was most accurate in this regard.”
“How has this group been traced to the Border States?”
“That was a question I had as well, and received no answer other than that this was to be regarded as ‘dependable information.’ ” Tenedos shrugged. “I was also told Chamisso Fergana appears to be either the leader or among the leaders of this organization, which is adding members by the day. Soon he will lead them down from the hills, seize Sayana, and mount a great war into Numantia. The Rule of Ten believe the Tovieti are responsible for all the unrest along the borders of late.
“Now you see what a wonderful ferment of evil and dark magic we are about to enter.”
Sayana, not more than a mile ahead, was dazzling white under the sun, as white as a bride’s robes. But between us and the walls was a truer symbol of Sayana. Iron stanchions, about thirty feet high, stood on either side of the road. Hanging from them were wrought-iron cages. Inside each was the rotting remains of a man. Some were no more than bones, picked almost clean by the kites and crows. Others were more recently dead, corpses blackening under the sun, eyes pecked out, grasping hands reaching for a mercy that was never granted until Saionji allowed them to return to the Wheel.
I heard a croak, not from any charnel bird, but from one caged man, or perhaps a woman, who yet lived. I could not distinguish through the filth and rags. A single eye stared, and a hand fluttered, asking for the last gift.
I knew I must not grant it, as much as I wanted to take a bow from one of my men and send a merciful shaft into the heart of that caged wretch. Such a boon would have been instantly punished, most likely by my replacing the one I’d granted mercy to.
I turned my eyes away, and we rode on.
Just ahead were the city’s gates, and waiting in front was a formation of some fifty horses, with a single figure at their head.
