by Chris Bunch
Of all the displays I’ve seen in the courts of kings, that still is one of the most impressive.
The second and final marvel was the man sitting on that great throne, Achim Baber Fergana.
He was a big man. In his youth, he would have been a frightening warrior, not only from his size and muscles, but also from his dark hair that, like his beard, was waxed, brought to a series of points with gems mounted on each tip.
He was perhaps in his middle fifties and had gone somewhat to seed — his belly threatened to overcome his lap, and his beringed fingers were chubby, as were his cheeks.
But he was still a dangerous man. If I’d faced him in the wrestling ring, my best tactic would have been to keep out of his crushing embrace, and try for a back-heel knockdown. In armed battle, I imagined, he would prefer an ax or perhaps a double-handed sword. His tactics would be that of the woodsman, the hewer, rather than the delicacy of a fencer.
His voice rumbled out, a bearish tone quite fitting his appearance:
“I seek speech with the nobleman of Numantia.”
Tenedos bowed, and started toward the throne. As he did so, Jask Irshad came from behind the throne and stood beside his master.
“Bring your fellows, Seer,” Fergana went on. “I desire to meet all new faces within my realm.”
The three of us followed Tenedos. When he stopped, we stopped. When he bowed, thrice, we followed his lead.
“You may approach my throne and name yourself.”
“I am Laish Tenedos, appointed resident-general to the great Kingdom of Kait, and ambassador plenipotentiary to his Most Royal Highness, Achim Baber Fergana.”
“Honorable sir, do you have papers so identifying yourself?”
“I do indeed.…” and Tenedos produced a properly beribboned and sealed parchment scroll and handed it to Achim Fergana, who untied its ribbon, opened it, pretended to study it, summoned his Most Honorable Aide and Most Puissant Sorcerer, Jask Irshad, and the ceremony went on. In the course of it, Tenedos gave the achim his presents.
He’d shown them to me before we left the compound, and I’d been most impressed. The case contained handmade knives, each one unique to one or another of the states of Numantia. So there was a thin-bladed fishing knife from Palmeras, a long, broad-bladed cattleman’s knife from the state of Darfur, a brush-cutting blade of Cimabue that I can attest was also useful in brawls, and so forth. Each of them was made of polished ondanique steel, their hilts, grips, and guards of exotic woods and metals, with gems set into them.
It was evident that Achim Fergana liked them well, for I heard growls of pleasure, not of rage, from the bear. Then the ceremonies went on.
I shut off my ears, and pretended to be most attentive. I was somewhat surprised that a rough warrior like Achim Fergana truckled in such time-wasting, but guessed he felt it added legitimacy to his bandit’s reign.
Eventually Irshad and Fergana decided Tenedos was no impostor, and was welcome at this court, so long as he held to the laws and customs of the fair country of Kait, and Achim Fergana was most interested in hearing the latest news from Numantia and its never-to-be-sufficiently-venerated leaders, and friends, the Rule of Ten.
I heard a very quiet snort at this last, and looked out of the comer of my eye to see who objected. It was the man with the red skullcap and dagger.
Evidently Fergana also had good hearing, because when the ceremony was over he motioned to the man.
“Landgrave Malebranche. Come forward, please.”
The man obeyed.
“We are most honored,” Fergana said, “to have two representatives of ancient and honorable courts with us. It is truly warming that Kait, which has been dubbed the Border States by the outside world, and we Kaiti, sometimes called no more than the Men of the Hills, as if we were wandering peasantry, have attracted such notice.
“Resident Tenedos, allow me to present the Resident from the country of Kallio, Landgrave Elias Malebranche.”
I managed to hide my astonishment — surely Achim Fergana knew Kallio was but a state of Numantia, just as Nicias was. Before anyone could make anything of it, Malebranche bowed. “Perhaps, O Achim,” he said, “because our two states differ in so many ways it’s easy to think of us as being of different nationalities. But we are the same, which some are proud of, and others regret.”
Tenedos turned slowly to the landgrave, a rank about equivalent to our count.
“I greet you in the name of your proper rulers,” he said, putting just the slightest emphasis on the last three words, “the Rule of Ten, and am sure we shall be the best of friends. But Landgrave, you said something that perplexes me. You say some regret being citizens of Numantia. Why would anyone be so foolish?”
“I spoke carelessly,” Malebranche went on. “I did not mean that anyone regrets being Numantian, but there are those — of course I am not one — who feel Numantia is being, shall we say, led in a rather haphazard fashion these days.”
Achim Fergana bellowed laughter.
“Ah, there shall be good times, I can tell, if two representatives of the same kingdom begin a catfight before they’re even fully introduced. I predict great entertainment for myself and my court.”
Tenedos allowed a smile to show, then vanish.
“I am pleased Your Majesty is amused, and I hope to gladden him in other, more important ways as part of my mission. However, do not think a small disagreement about semantics is a catfight. In the end, Numantians are brothers.”
Fergana laughed even more loudly.
“Is that correct, Langrave Malebranche? Do all your folks hew together when times grow hard?”
Malebranche’s grimace might have been intended to show private mirth, but he made no answer. Nor did Fergana press him for one. Instead, he turned back to Tenedos.
“Interesting times, yes.” He looked past the seer, at me. “You, young man. You are the one I have been curious to meet.”
I’m afraid I goggled.
“You are the clever soldier who convinced the Wolf of Ghazi you were a magician, and made him yield his prey, are you not?”
This did not make me any the less mazed, but I managed to recover control of my face. Did this man … or rather the sorcery of his jask … have all knowledge of the borders?
“I am that man, sir,” I said.
“You have a quick wit,” Fergana said. “I am curious to see how it shines in the future, and hope that you will have more opportunities to display it.”
“Display it carefully,” Irshad put in. “Some of us are not as easily amused as the achim.”
I bowed. “Thank you for the compliment … and for the warning.”
Both men looked hard at me, as if graving my features — and soul — into their minds. I started to step back, but held firm. After a moment, they both looked to Laish Tenedos.
“I am moved,” Achim Fergana said, “to admit you to this court as an honored representative. All you need do is fulfill one final duty.”
“You have but to ask.”
Irshad gestured, and the entire dais, with the throne on it, slid back, until it was flush against the wall. I could have sworn the stone had been firmly cemented against the floor. I reminded myself that merely because the Men of the Hills had barbaric customs, they were not to be taken lightly, neither in their crafts nor in their thinking.
Where the dais had sat was a round iron plate, wonderfully painted as a wheel, with, it seemed, all the creatures and men of this world on it.
Irshad motioned once more, and the plate slid away, revealing a low pit.
“Step closer,” Achim Fergana ordered. “All four of you.”
Below us was a miniature of the first level of the chamber room we stood in. Not only were the details of the room exactly worked, but it was filled with dolls, each about a single hand high. I studied them, then looked about me, recognizing the courtiers who’d modeled for the mannequins. Each member of the court was represented in this shallow depression, his face most
exactly carved of ivory, and costumes equally realistic.
There were far more dolls than people present that day. The other difference was that there were no dolls on the tiny dais to represent either Achim Baber Fergana or the Jask Irshad.
Irshad stepped down into the pit and picked up one doll. It was an amazing replica of the Kallian, Landgrave Malebranche.
“This is not a child’s conceit, Resident Tenedos,” Fergana said.
“I have already sensed that, O Achim,” Tenedos said. “Remember, my main craft is not that of diplomacy.”
“Ah yes. I forgot. Each of these figurines contains at least a bit of hair from the man — or woman — it represents. I require anyone who chooses to attend my court to provide such matter.”
“I must protest,” Tenedos said. “That could give magical control of the person into your … or your sorcerers’… hands.”
“It could,” Fergana said. “But I am a man of honor, and would never take advantage of that, nor would I allow any of my jasks to commit such an offense.”
“Then why do you require it?”
“Honor begets honor … and the reverse is true as well,” Fergana said. “I am afraid there have been men come to my court who intended evil. But once they were confronted with this choice, with providing Jask Irshad with the necessary items, they either fled, or else remained most honorable while they were in Sayana.
“When your service here is completed, the doll will be given to you as a memento. I also require such items from any of your representatives, such as the clever Legate Damastes á Cimabue, who will attend my court.”
“I cannot provide such items,” replied Tenedos, “and again must protest the lack of trust you show in a properly accredited representative of the court of Numantia.”
“Your protest is heard and rejected.”
“Then I have no other choice than to withdraw my credentials.”
“If that is what you must do, then do what you must,” Fergana said, amused.
“The Rule of Ten will be most displeased.”
“No doubt,” Fergana said. “But it is a very long way back through Sulem Pass, through Urey, and down the Latane River to your capital. By the time word reaches the Rule of Ten, if it ever does, and they decide to take whatever course of action necessary to protect the rather imagined interests of one man … well, a great deal of time will have passed, and in that time many things will most likely have occurred.”
Landgrave Malebranche smiled, and I could well imagine what he was thinking: With the Numantian envoy, who of course in his view spoke only for Dara and Nicias, discredited, there could well be opportunity to make a pact with Kallio’s new prime minister, Chardin Sher. Which no doubt was exactly why the landgrave was present in Sayana.
I glanced at my men: Bikaner’s face was set in stubborn refusal, as was Horseman Svalbard’s.
Tenedos looked at me, and his lips were pressed together angrily.
I saw one of the court’s animals — a strangely striped antelope — wander past, and an idea came me.
Supposedly magicians can transfer their thoughts one to another, without the necessity of speech. I’ve heard of, but never seen, such a marvel, even though I doubt it not. Nor do I believe very highly in omens or people somehow sensing a dear one in dire straits many miles away.
But in that instant I stared hard at Laish Tenedos, willing my idea to go out, to enter his brain, to sweep across the few feet between us like an invisible wave. I allowed myself to nod … just a bit. Tenedos blinked, and his expression became bland once more. His eyebrow lifted, questioningly.
Again, I chanced a tiny nod.
Tenedos turned back to Achim Fergana.
“I … see,” he said, slowly. “This is a very new, very shocking idea.”
“But one that must be obeyed.”
“May I have a day to consider it?”
Irshad started to say something, but Fergana’s glance silenced him. “I do not mean to insult, but there is no way this edict can be gotten around, by trickery or any other way. You must provide a bit of hair, at the very least. Most are willing to give a drop of blood and saliva as well, to assure me of their loyalty.
“But I shall not require all such items from outlanders.
“Very well. This time tomorrow, you are to present yourselves here, to me. No. Make it two days distant. That will give my artisans a chance to make the dolls, and you may have the pleasure of seeing them.
“At that time, you must either clip a bit of hair from each of your heads to be inserted into the figures, or else forever depart my court, the city of Sayana, and the Kingdom of Kait, as a declared enemy of this country.
“Is that completely understood?”
Tenedos looked at me, and he appeared slightly worried. I was not. Either my idea could be accomplished in seconds, or not at all.
His lips firmed.
“I agree.”
“Very well,” Achim Fergana said. “In forty-eight hours, we shall meet once more. You have leave to go.”
EIGHT
THE DECEIVERS
As soon as we’d returned to the compound, Tenedos took me to his quarters, said a few quick words at each corner of the room to ensure there were no magical listeners present, and said, “I assume you were not wriggling your eyebrows from an itch, Damastes.”
“I was not. Perhaps I’ve a solution to our, er, embarrassment.”
“Tell me. I would far rather find a way around this quandary than be forced to confront it directly.” He smiled wryly. “What a strange predicament I am in. If my theory is correct, and the Rule of Ten wishes something to happen to me, I’m afraid the minor disaster of being rejected at Achim Fergana’s court would hardly be enough to send in the heavy regiments. It would, however, be enough to ruin my reputation in Nicias. I can hear the jests now — a highly trained seer, a great magician of Numantia, foxed in his first state assignment by a barbarian with dolls. Well, I do not propose to fail,” and steel was in his voice. “So what is your plan, my friend?”
“A question first, sir? When we first entered the city, and you turned the guards’ spearheads into gold, you held something hidden in your hand — held like this, am I correct?”
Tenedos nodded. “Good eyes, my friend. I held a small golden amulet that’s been given certain powers to transmute base metal, although of course the amount of magical energy required for the task makes it prohibitively expensive, or else the lowliest peasant’s geegaws would be golden, and the metal would lose all value.
“I assume, when you were a boy, the sleight-of-hand artists who attempted to deceive at the local bazaars hated you on sight.”
“Nosir. I never let on when I spotted how they did something. I told a friend once how a conjurer did a trick, and he got angry, and said he would rather not know where the scarves or doves are hidden. So I never did again. But I thought you were quite good — the only reason I could see what was in your hand was I was behind and to the side. If I’d been in front, like the Kaiti were … I would have seen nothing.”
“Still, I had best spent more time exercising my fingers,” Tenedos said. “No one likes to be found out. So you think my legerdemain might provide a solution?”
I explained what I had in mind. A smile slowly grew across Tenedos’s face.
“Indeed. That sounds a definite plan. I like it. I think it could well work, because I shall be performing in front of another magician, and no one is easier to fool than the man who himself wears a mask.
“Yes. However, I had best begin practicing. We will also need to involve your troop guide in our little conspiracy.”
Two days later, we returned to Achim Fergana’s court. This time, there were but the three of us. We arrived a little earlier than the hour set, and spent the time moving among the people of the court. There was quite a crowd that day — no doubt the thought of seeing the humiliation, one way or another, of the loathed Numantians guaranteed a crowd.
Tenedos was
the perfect diplomat, speaking to a man here, a woman there, introducing himself as he went, pausing for a sweetmeat from one of the passing servitors, patting one of the court animals as it passed, Troop Guide Bikaner behind him like a proper retainer, and then there came a shouting of soldiers’ voices, and Achim Baber Fergana stalked into the room. Behind him was Jask Irshad.
Without preamble, he walked to the throne, and waited until all finished bowing, in our case, or prostrating themselves, as the Kaiti were required.
“Resident-General Tenedos,” his voice boomed, “you heard my orders two days gone. Are you now prepared to obey them, or are you defying my edict and our customs?”
“I still resent the implication I, or any of my retinue, would consider harming Your Majesty,” Tenedos said. “However, in the interests of national amity, I am prepared to agree.” He walked forward, and took from a pouch at his belt three tiny golden boxes. He opened them.
“Troop Guide Bikaner of Numantia, are you prepared to sacrifice for the good of the country you serve?”
“I am,” Bikaner said, and the slight quaver of his voice seemed real. He walked forward, and removed his helmet. Tenedos took a tiny pair of silver scissors from his pouch and, with a bit of difficulty considering Bikaner’s close crop, snipped off a bit of hair and let it fall into the box. He snapped the box shut, and touched it to his forehead.
“Nothing is in here that came from outside this court,” he announced, and set it on the edge of the dais.
“Legate Damastes á Cimabue, are you ready for this sacrifice?” Tenedos said.
“I am.”
Hair from my head was cut and put in another box, and again Irshad checked to make sure we had not somehow managed to substitute someone else’s hair that we’d brought into the castle with us. Then it was Tenedos’s turn.
When all three boxes were on the dais, Irshad stepped behind the throne and brought out three dolls. They were marvelously made, each of them not only exactly clothed as we had been at the previous ceremony, but the expressions on the ivory faces were very recognizable, although, truth to tell, I did not think I looked quite that young.
