by Chris Bunch
The clothing of each was opened, revealing that the dolls had been carved from wood. In the center of the wooden skeleton was a small hole stuffed with clay. Jask Irshad, his lips moving in an inaudible incantation, opened each of the boxes he’d been given, took out the bits of hair, and pressed them into the clay of the appropriate dolls.
He finished, and stepped onto the dais. Again he motioned, again the dais slid back and then, with another gesture, the miniature court was revealed.
Irshad put the three of us into the scene — just beside the doll that represented Landgrave Malebranche. Then the pit’s cover slid back, and the dais returned.
Irshad bowed.
“I thank you, in the name of the Most Bountiful of Monarchs, Achim Baber Fergana, and wish to congratulate you in being able to bask here and learn from his wisdom and decisions.”
“Very well,” Fergana said. “Enough of magic. Now, let us to business.” He sounded relieved, and I suspected that he, like many of us, was most uncomfortable around any sort of sorcery, even though it was intended to benefit him.
And so the slow dance of diplomacy was finally allowed to begin.
Our deception had succeeded.
• • •
Our tasks in Sayana were three-fold. First was to represent Numantia, and attempt to keep Achim Fergana from making any decision that would be harmful to our national interests. Second was to provide information on this new organization called the Tovieti. Third was the long-range and probably impossible job of trying to encourage the Kaiti to change their warlike ways, or at any rate direct them away from Numantia, especially Urey.
It had been five years since there had been a Numantian resident-general in Sayana. The previous holder of the office had died quite suddenly and mysteriously; we were variously told of drink, of an overly heavy intake of the spice leaves the Kaiti were partial to, or of some disease brought on by insanity. Tenedos said he believed none of them but had no conjectures of his own.
The Rule of Ten had given Tenedos the list of agents the previous resident-general had developed, and we were to contact them and put them back to work.
This was almost impossible, since any Numantian who went out of the estate was instantly spotted and followed, either by one of Irshad’s agents or by a mob that would grow in size and anger, shouting threats and hurling an occasional stone at the hated enemy.
But it took little investigation, no more than a cursory visit to the neighborhoods these agents supposedly lived in, to realize there was little need to worry about exposing anyone to the wrath of the achim and his torturers. Either the former resident-general had made up his spies entirely and pocketed their pay, or else they’d fled when he died — and I believed the former most likely. A stable in which the blacksmith was one of ours had burned to the ground. A tavern was now a fortune-teller’s shop. A residence where our man was described as a strapping youth held nothing but doddering crones.
If we were to have spies of our own, we would have to grow them from our own seedlings. Since I had little knowledge and less inclination for this dark world, we were severely handicapped, and I wondered why Tenedos’s retainers had not included an experienced warden who knew about informants and agents and duplicity. Tenedos himself, a bit shamefacedly, said he’d always been interested in spies, and had some theories, but this land was a terrible place to test them, so he’d be no real help.
We found out a great deal about Jask Irshad, and very little of it was favorable. He was the kingdom’s most talented sorcerer, and was also blindly ambitious. He’d come late to Achim Baber Fergana’s court, and some whispered that he’d waited to make his declaration until he was sure the achim had a firm hold on the throne. Since then, he’d ensured he was Fergana’s most needed servant, providing him not only with magical resources, but with a network of agents that ran from the top to the bottom of Sayana. I thought him a loathsome being, and he seemed to return the opinion. One of his few honestly held beliefs was a complete hatred of any non-Kaiti.
I mentioned my dislike once to Tenedos, and he shrugged, and told me he felt no particular hatred for the man. “He is, in his way, a patriot,” Tenedos said. “He is ambitious, but what of that? Aren’t we all? Frankly, I am learning some things from him, and I suggest, Damastes, you follow my example — I’ve found no man so monstrous that something in his character is not worth the study.” I had better ways to spend my time than studying a sewer, but kept that thought to myself.
My main concern was with our native soldiery, since they were the most dangerous, being close to us at all times.
I called them into the courtyard, and bade them watch while I put my own troop through a series of drills. They were unmoved, since they fought singly, and believed soldiers fighting in formation were no better than puppets. I then had the best of my swordsmen and fighters show their abilities. This the Men of the Hills understood, and were impressed by.
Next I invited their best bladesmen to try their skills, with sheathed blades, against my men. The hillmen did their best, but only beat my Numantians one out of four times.
Finally, I divided them up into small groups, did the same with my men, and set them against each other — one on one, one on two, two on one, three on one, and all the desperately unfair combinations that real war brings. Once more, they were bested by Lancers and the KLI.
I then put them in formation, and said I proposed to turn them into soldiers, and if any of them objected, they were welcome to leave Numantian employ. There were mutters and dark looks.
Before mutiny could develop, I announced the first four changes: Their old, reeking uniforms would be burned, and replaced with much smarter regalia Tenedos had sketched and ordered local seamstresses to make; their filthy quarters would be cleaned and painted by outside workmen and thereafter kept spotless; their cooks had been discharged as the incompetent slop-handlers they were and the men would now eat at the same tables and from the same menu as we did; and finally their wages would be increased 20 percent, paid weekly in gold.
This got the darkest of looks from their leader, Gyula Wollo, but the rest of the men were shouting enthusiasm.
While the romance still bloomed, I put my lance-majors and the KLI’s sergeants to work, drilling the tribesmen hard, but not that hard, and with orders never, ever to swear or treat these hillmen as if they were anything other than the noblest of Numantians. When my warrants were satisfied, I would order the levies to be integrated into the Numantian forces. Hopefully the tribesmen would learn how to soldier by example — and, of course, I would have the added security of having a trusted man at each hillman’s side at all times. A double advantage of this was that my men were also being trained, yet in a way that was fresh to them, so the various drills kept their interest.
I sent for Wollo, and informed him I would be making an accounting of the monies paid to the hill soldiers, to make sure there’d been no errors.
He glared at me. “S’posin’ that things don’t look straight,” he said. “Rememberin’ I’m not one f’r numbers.”
“You’ll have a chance to explain any discrepancies.”
“Y’know,” he tried, “there’s nobody honest in Sayana, so it wuz necessary sometimes t’slip a coin or two under th’ table.”
“No doubt,” I said. “If I have any questions, or if Resident-General Tenedos has, of course any explanations will be listened to.”
“E’en if it’s naught but my word?”
“You are an officer, and any officer under my command is assumed to always tell the truth, or else he’s cashiered. Besides, Resident-General Tenedos is a seer, a jask, and his sorcery can instantly scent the truth.
“An honest man has nothing to fear.”
Wollo tried for a smile, failed, and made his departure. Of course, he was gone by the time we shut the gates for the night, leaving his few possessions behind. But my investigation of the levies’ funds showed that, unless he were a complete wastrel, he would have been able to
buy himself a new wardrobe handily — and a mansion to closet it in. I’d expected nothing different.
Similarly, Tenedos’s retainers put their efficient hands to work on the household staff, and little by little we made the Residency into a livable part of the world. They were given invaluable assistance from our castelan, Eluard, once he was assured we had no plans to audit his accounts. That thief was firmly on our side.
Time would bring even greater changes — but none of us was under any illusions that we would have that commodity.
It did not take spies, or magic, to realize that Sayana was seething. We dared not ride into the countryside, but assumed that whatever was happening in the capital would be occurring throughout the Border States. Worse, we heard feuds were being reborn throughout the country, with the promise that “all would be settled soon … when the Change came.” All Kait was abubble with the steam of war, as we’d seen coming through Sulem Pass.
We Numantians were hated, as were all outlanders. A favorite slogan chalked or painted on any open wall was: M’rt tê Ph’rëng!
Death to Outlanders.
It took little conversation in a tavern to find most Kaiti felt that meant all foreigners, without fear or favor. Whether you were Ureyan, Nician, Kallian, or any other Numantian, or Maisirian or any other breed, including natives of the other Border Regions, you were enemy, and legitimate prey, either by shortchanging or a spear through the chest.
There were other Numantians in Sayana besides our own soldiery and Tenedos’s retainers. There were about 300 civilians, in various occupations from merchant to mendicant to swordmaker to a handful who’d married Kaiti and come back to live with them or their children. Both Tenedos and I wished they would flee Sayana before the storm broke, but we could say nothing. In the event of catastrophe, it would be our duty to try to protect them.
One thing I could learn nothing about was the Tovieti. Mere mention of the word was enough to end a conversation and silence any tavern. There weren’t even any rumors to be heard — or at least none that would be repeated to a Numantian. However, Tenedos pointed out that this hushed silence did indicate the Tovieti were not a fever-dream creation of some Nician bureaucrat. “All information, my good Damastes, is valuable,” he said. “Even in its absence.” I definitely was not cut out for a career in espionage.
I was able to find out a little about Fergana’s brother, Chamisso. He was mentioned in only two ways — mostly as if he were the biggest monster in the land. This came from anyone who held any position of authority, or anyone who wasn’t sure of the allegiance of the person he was speaking to. Other people, servants and workers, the poor, spoke of him as if he bore all the virtues of the Fergana family, while his brother, the achim, had all the evil. This was not a good sign: It was clear the Pretender in the Hills was far more popular than the court believed, and that popularity was growing.
I allowed my Lancers to go out only in fours or more, with at least one warrant in each group. They didn’t like that much, and Captain Mellet thought I was being overly severe. But after a half dozen of his infantrymen were nearly beaten to death in “spontaneous” tavern fights, he gave similar orders.
Not that many of my men wanted to go outside the compound anyway. I set up our own tavern, bought wine and spirits in bulk, and sold them just above cost. Food, well cooked in the Numantian manner, was always available from our kitchens.
As for sex, there were the whores the KLI had brought with them, and the native staff was mostly women. Since they were in the employ of Irshad or Fergana’s spymasters, they’d been chosen as much for their social abilities as cleaning talents. They were almost all young, quite striking, and most friendly.
Whatever arrangements they made with my men was not my business, and so I made no inquiries as to who slept where when he was off duty. I’d been taught, in the academy, that spies value pillow talk, and worried for a few days until I hit the obvious solution: Pillow talk is completely harmless if the talker doesn’t know anything important.
We had few secrets, really, and most of those we did were held by Laish Tenedos, myself, and Captain Mellet. There were other things an enemy might wish to know that a foolish lance might confide, such as when guards were changed, or where the posts were, but those I changed frequently.
I, myself, slept alone, remembering my father’s teachings, although I still recollect one young woman, one responsible for the floral arrangements in each room. She was dark, with a quick and easy smile. She also had roseate nipples and curvaceous legs that I saw once when she’d “thought I was out,” and changed her dress in my room — while I “just happened” to be drowsing in the bath. I am sure we would have ended in the same bed in time, but time was not there.
I was a bit surprised by Laish Tenedos; more than once I saw women slip into or out of his quarter at an unseemly hour, and once I heard a bit of a giggling conversation when I passed by a larder: “Ay, yes, th’ wizard’s ripe for love, an’ with an eye for th’ unusual, but there’s one strange — ” but my footfall was heard so I never learned what was unusual. But the more I thought on it, the less it mattered. Tenedos was not married, or if he was he never spoke of his wife. What did it matter whether he slept alone or with someone? Kaiti customs were hardly straitlaced, and the higher in society the more open they were. I paid no more mind to the matter. He was my superior, and besides I assumed he had sense enough not to babble in his lustiness.
Suddenly I had other things to contend with.
• • •
It was well after midnight, and I was sitting with Tenedos in his study when the screams came.
We were relaxing after a long day with one of Achim Fergana’s greedier assistants working on a proposed pact, where-in Numantia would agree to provide a sizable amount of gold to the achim, in exchange for which he promised to do “all that lay within his powers and authority” to dissuade the Men of the Hills from raiding into Urey. Tenedos wanted a more concrete assurance, such as the achim’s willingness to permit cross-border pursuits or even cooperation with our border-patrol units such as the Lancers, and the achim just wanted more gold.
I was listening to Tenedos hold forth on just what was wrong with the way Numantia was ruled, and how each of the states must be required to provide more support for their kingdom, for which they’d receive far greater benefits than at present, when the peaceful night air was ripped apart by screams.
Before the echoes died, I was up and out, bare sword in hand. The screams came from belowstairs, in the building we were in. I heard shouts of the duty warrants turning out the guard, and outcries from civilians.
The screamer was on the first floor, standing just outside the entrance to Eluard’s quarters. It was one of the scullery wenches, and I wondered why she was abroad at this hour.
She was hysterical, and could only point inside.
I pushed her aside and went in.
The apartments were very luxurious — as plush as those of Tenedos. Eluard’s little thieveries mounted into quite a sum, I saw.
Slumped in a fat padded chair was Eluard.
Two glasses of liqueur were on the table in front of him. One, the closest to him, had been drained. The other was full to the brim.
The ends of a long, yellow silk cord dangled on his chest, and the cord was buried in the folds of his purpled neck. Eluard’s tongue protruded grotesquely, as did his eyes, and I smelled shit from the voiding of his bowels.
He was still warm to the touch, but very, very dead.
There were people behind me in the doorway, and I heard that word that didn’t exist in Sayana:
“Tovieti!”
An hour later the body was gone, reluctantly lugged away by what the Kaiti called their wardens. They were terrified of touching the corpse, and refused to offer any explanation of what could have happened, nor any theories as to why Eluard would have been a target.
All of the estate’s gates were still locked or barred from the inside.
The wardens made no attempt to search the house or interrogate any of the staff. The wench had been one of Eluard’s bed companions, and this was her night to sleep with him, no more.
I made brief inquiries of the warrants of the watch, and ordered a close check of the building for previously unnoticed entryways, but doubted I’d find anything with such a physical search.
What clues might be discovered were in that silk cord.
It lay across Laish Tenedos’s desk. He had both of the trunks that held his magical implements open, and an assortment of tools ready. He’d cleared the rugs back from the floor, and scribed certain symbols within a small triple circle that held a triangle inside its innermost round. For some reason, looking at those unknown characters sent a slow chill along my spine, and I tried to keep my eyes away from them.
He had a small brazier on his desk, and was adding herbs to it from vials. I saw the labels on a few: Wormwood, Broom, Mandrake, Elder, Maidenhair.
He finished and set the brazier at one point of the triangle. He took the Tovieti’s silk strangling cord and then stood in the circle with his feet touching the other two tips.
“Now, my friend, if you’ll be good enough to take that taper and hold it to the brazier when I tell you, I would be appreciative. After that, please have your dagger ready. If anything … unforeseen happens, or if it appears I am in any danger, you must cut through all three rounds of the circle. Please do it quickly, because events might occur rather rapidly and I feel I am going in harm’s way.”
I nodded understanding. I was far more nervous than Tenedos — I’d never even been present at a magical rite, let alone assisted in one.
“Light the brazier.” Tenedos’s voice was calm.
I did, and jumped back as a blue flame roared up and touched the ceiling, but it was a heatless flame.
Tenedos began chanting:
