by Chris Bunch
Tenedos attempted, once, to tell Achim Fergana that mere ratification of the pact he’d been sent into the Border States to present would be the greatest reward of all, for Kait, Numantia, and Urey. Achim Fergana smiled blandly and said he had the matter well under advisement. Even someone as artless as I knew what that portended.
No one, not Tenedos, not me, not any officer or ranker, could come up with an idea for an individual reward. Each of us could have had an estate in the country, and been murdered the instant we rode out of Sayana’s gates to visit it.
Titles were meaningless.
Food — the Kaiti diet wasn’t exactly prized by my men.
The Achim Fergana offered women or young boys, as many as each man wanted. Some of my men were licking their chops most lasciviously, planning orgies of a prehistoric nature. Here I had to step in firmly: If a woman wished to enter the compound by day, of her own free will, and she would be asked by me, and the man involved was off duty, what they chose to do was their business. However, the security of the compound was too important to allow strangers to pass the night. Army laws fortunately forbade enlisted men keeping slaves, so that kept another door closed.
I knew that few Kaiti women would wish to involve themselves with the hated Ph’rëng beyond whores or our staff spies, who of course were under orders to be accommodating, especially if they would be forced out into the streets of Sayana at nightfall.
We were left, then, with the undying gratitude of Achim Baber Fergana, a gift that would live, as Resident-General Tenedos cynically but correctly said, for at least a full week beyond its presentation.
There were some rewards — all the men who rode with me were mentioned in my dispatch back to Domina Herstal and the Lancers, and Captain Mellet did the same for his men. Some we could promote: Legate Baner would be posthumously raised to captain of the Lower Half, which might provide some consolation to his family. As I’d vowed, with Laish Tenedos’s full approval, Sergeant Yonge was commissioned legate, as were other hillmen.
As for my own men, I could hardly promote Bikaner to regimental guide, since there was but one such rank in the entire regiment of Lancers and that held by Evatt, back in Mehul. Lance Karjan refused my offer of promotion, saying, “Havin’ rank-slashes means givin’ up y’r friends an’ soul both, an’ hardly’s worth the few coins extra.” Curti was too ashamed of his having missed his first shot in the cavern to countenance reward. At least Svalbard allowed himself to be raised to lance, and grunted, I think in thanks.
Resident Tenedos insisted on writing a dispatch to Domina Herstal that was so commendatory I nearly blushed. I wondered if it would change what Captain Lanett thought, but doubted it. People of his nature never change their minds once someone’s played into that fatal flaw of theirs.
There was other praising to be done, and this Tenedos handled most skillfully, although it left a sour taste in my mouth.
He waited less than a day after our return to begin rolling out a ream of letters and dispatches. The first was the necessary report to the Rule of Ten.
He let me read it before sealing the packet. I was polite, and voiced none of my criticisms. It was accurate, but it sounded as if we’d taken a gigantic step to bringing peace to the Border States and bringing Kait firmly under Numantian influence. I noted, however, that the dispatch left several options open, constantly saying if certain obvious measures were continued by Achim Fergana and the present government, assuming Achim Fergana provided proper justice now that inroads had been made against the Tovieti and the constant feuding within the country, these thoughts being mere conjectures dependent on the current situation continuing undisturbed for at least half a year, and so forth.
But Tenedos’s use of such slippery words was not the worst. Before he sent the official dispatches off in the hands of a twenty-man patrol to make sure they reached Urey safely, Tenedos produced a second round of correspondence. Some of these missives were private, intended for Tenedos’s friends and mentors, including those two men in the Rule of Ten he counted as his allies. Those, of course, he did not allow me to read.
Other writings were intended for various of Nicias’s broadsheets. I read part of one, which was filled with references to the “heroism” of the “stalwart young officer of the famed Ureyan Lancers Legate á Cimabue,” the “dauntless bravery” of the Numantian soldiery against “overwhelming charges” by the evil tribesmen, and so on. Legate Baner was cut down after killing at least a dozen of the rebels, and died in Tenedos’s arms, with his last words being “Promise me, Seer, that the deaths we die this day shall not be in vain, and one day Numantia will recover its past glory and more.”
I felt a trifle ill.
Tenedos saw my expression and guessed my thoughts. He smiled, a bit grimly. “You are thinking, What shit — am I not correct, Damastes?”
I grunted noncommittally.
“But what is a lie? Wouldn’t Baner, for instance, have killed that many Tovieti if he’d lived?”
“Perhaps. But you make no mention of the Tovieti, either.”
“That, young fellow my lad, is because I know the Rule of Ten would have my hide nailed to the city wall if I mentioned such closely held information. Let me continue. As for Baner’s last words, well, I admit to putting some words in his mouth. But can you guarantee he didn’t believe that?”
“I never heard him say anything about politics.”
“Then who can tell? Besides, there is a greater truth here,” Tenedos went on. “You remember when I spoke to your man, back at the ford? I promised them great times, great deeds, and great prizes.
“Very well. The men who fell, and were returned to the Wheel, can yet serve. Baner is one and gives an example to other young Numantians.
“Should I have told the truth about Legate Baner’s death? That he was killed foolishly attacking a man who had twice his skills at fighting? That he dove in front of his superior, no doubt hoping to win the great glory of killing Chamisso Fergana himself? Shall I say that his death did nothing to bring peace to this benighted country, since it will continue to be as it is, as it always has been, unless every gods-damned Kaiti is slain and the land repopulated with sane folk? Shall I say that these Border States matter little to Numantia, that most Numantians cannot find them on a map and care nothing of what happens on their frontiers?
“Do you think that would please the legate’s family, if family he had? Do you think that would serve Numantia?”
Tenedos, warming to his subject, was becoming slightly angry. I did not answer his question, but professed ignorance about such abstruse matters.
Instantly Tenedos became charming again.
“Damastes, my friend. You concentrate on what you are very good at, soldiering and doing what you can with very little to work with. I promise, one day, you too shall be rewarded and given a chance to do truly great things that shall make your name ring down the annals of time.
“Let me worry about the politics and the chicanery. But think of one thing: After these accounts I’m writing reach the broadsheets, what chance do you think the Rule of Ten will have of casting me back into oblivion?
“All I’ll have to do … all we’ll have to do, is survive this assignment and our names shall be forever known in Numantia. And what can be the matter with that?”
I was still uncomfortable, made my excuses, and left. Over the next few days the matter gnawed — I’d seen officers who made sure their every favorable action was noted by their superiors, and my father had told me, scathingly, of others. I had nothing but contempt for them.
But on the other hand Laish Tenedos was not a soldier, and fought in an entirely different arena, one I knew little of and wanted to know less. Was I right in disparaging him? Especially since what he’d accomplished in the cavern had kept the peace in Kait, had kept Achim Fergana, Numantia’s ally, no matter how untrustworthy, on the throne, had kept the Kaiti from exploding north into Urey and Numantia with thirsty swords, at least for the moment
Fortunately, there were other, far more important concerns, and I set the matter aside.
One matter appeared minor, but curious: The Kallian, Landgrave Elias Malebranche, had vanished, disappearing from the palace he’d been assigned on the morning of the day we returned, just about the time we’d escaped Thak in the cavern. The coincidence seemed quite remarkable to me, and seemed not at all a coincidence to Resident-General Tenedos, but all questions about him at court were shrugged away.
Our biggest worry was the Tovieti. They did not disappear, as Achim Fergana had blithely promised. Instead, the movement grew and grew. No longer was their name forbidden; instead, it could be heard almost everywhere. They may have been leaderless, but their ideas had not changed: destroy the rulers, destroy the landed. Take what you want. Until the old order is destroyed, there will never be peace, never be riches for any but the overlords. And, of course, M’rt tê Ph’rëng!
I saw this painted on many walls, and no Kaiti ever seemed to paint over the slogan. There was also a new wall-painting — a rough circle, sometimes painted in red, intended to represent the blood of the slain Chamisso Fergana, the martyred Jask Irshad, and the others we’d killed in the cavern, and, rising from it, a nest of hissing serpents, fangs bared. It could be painted most elaborately, or merely scrawled as a circle with arcing lines coming up from it, depending on how much time and ability the artist had.
There was a Tovieti motto: “From one body, many fighters. From many fighters, one will. Death to the outlanders! War against their kingdoms!”
Now mobs always surrounded the Residency, in spite of it being the height of the Time of Rains. At any hour, there’d be outbursts of chanting, singing, always promising death to the evil foreigners, the Chishti who were determined to destroy the fair kingdom of Kait.
When we rode out, we had to wear canvas cloaks, to keep the offal from staining our uniforms. Our Kaiti staff were shouted at and pushed around, and we were forced to escort those who did not live at the compound to and from their homes. Finally, we had to dismiss them entirely.
I called our Kaiti troops together, and offered them the chance to leave our employ. I was pleased, and a bit surprised, that only half, about fifty, took my offer. The ones that remained, including Legate Yonge, were among the best.
Then the first Numantian was killed. His name was Jeuan Ingres, and he was five years old.
His father was a traveling Numantian silversmith, his mother Kaiti. He’d been playing kickball with his four brothers and a wild shot had sent the ball over a wall, into a neighbor’s tomato garden. He’d gone after it. Suddenly three men had darted out of nowhere, a yellow silk cord yanked around his neck, and with a sharp pull the boy’s windpipe was crushed. Before his brothers could cry out, the three men vanished.
The Kaiti wardens said they were unable to find any clues, and none of their agents heard anything about the deed.
Resident-General Tenedos protested the atrocity to Achim Fergana.
The ruler put on a most distressed face, and went on about how horrible it was for such a deed to have occurred, and how shamed he was, although he certainly understood how some people, remembering the traditional evils Numantia had wreaked on hapless Kait, could be so blinded by their rage that they took a mere babe for an enemy.
“What evils are you referring to, Your Majesty?” Tenedos inquired icily.
“Those that are known to us all, and hardly worth going into at this time, although they are of great shame.”
“Since I speak for the Rule of Ten, for Numantia, I must insist on specifics. I understand our countries to be at peace.”
“We are,” Achim Fergana said. “Of course we are. But that does not alter the truth of what I said.”
Tenedos stared at him coldly, then bowed, and we withdrew. Our time as heroes was clearly past. Now we were back to normal — Ph’rëng scum.
When we reached the compound, he hurriedly wrote up a summary of recent events, and ordered me to send it at all possible speed north to Urey.
“I’d suggest you send more than one rider, Damastes. Send someone clever. I doubt they’d risk killing an official representative of Numantia, but still …” Tenedos looked worried.
I said I would — and requested he prepare a second letter, this one to the army leaders in Urey, asking for reinforcements for the Residency.
“You feel things have gotten that much worse?”
“I would feel a lot more comfortable, Resident, if we had at least two more companies of infantry and a column of heavy cavalry. The lines between us and Urey are very long and thin.”
“I’ll do that, and I’ll use my most cunning phrases. I’ll have it ready by the time you detail the men.”
I chose Lance-Major Wace, and four of my better lances. I ordered them to move quickly but carefully, and to trust no one between here and Urey, especially not in Sulem Pass. I would have sent a larger party, but with the situation aboil I couldn’t spare the men.
“Thankin’th’ legate for his advice,” Wace said, “but I know better’n even dreamin’ such a thing. No, sir. We’ll move at th’ gallop an’ with all our senses at th’ raw.”
I further ordered him not to return through the pass without reinforcements; I was sure that they could pass through once safely, having surprise with them, but most likely all the hill bandits would be preparing for their return. He growled, said he little liked leaving Three Column in such a fix, but it’d be as the legate ordered. They rode off within the hour.
That evening, Tenedos called me to his study. Once more sorcerous material was spread around the room.
“Since you performed so well before, I’m asking for your assistance again as my acolyte, Damastes. This time, though, there’s considerable less risk. I propose to go looking for our demoniac friend Thak, and see if he still exists on this plane.”
There was a large, circular brass tray with a raised lip worked with elaborate symbols on the table in the center of his study. Tenedos lit three candles, and put them equidistant around the tray. He motioned twice over a small brazier on a stand, and incense fumed up. He said a few words in another language, then uncorked a metal flask.
“This particular bit of thaumaturgy depends less on material than on training,” he explained. He poured a thin layer of mercury into the tray, until I stared down at a dully reflecting mirror.
“You are welcome to observe, if you wish,” Tenedos said. “This particular device is most handy in that regard — a novice or nonsorcerer will see as much as the magician. Of course, if the sorcerer happens to be having a bad day, or is a hoaxster, this could be a definite disadvantage.
“There is no risk save being revealed, and we needn’t worry about that.”
He moved his hands, palms down, fingertips curled, back and forth over the tray. The dullness faded, the mirror was crystal sharp, and then I was looking down at rugged land, as if I were a high-flying bird, except at a height I doubt any bird, even an eagle, could reach. It took me a moment to realize that I was staring down at the city of Sayana, and its outskirts. It was mostly quite clear, although there were places where it was blurred, as if small clouds were between us and the city.
“The indistinct places,” Tenedos explained, “are sorcerously blocked — for instance” — and he pointed to one spot — “here is Achim Fergana’s palace, and his jasks have cast counterspells to prevent interlopers such as myself from spying on him.
“This is one of the greatest advantages this spell gives — it can unerringly show the watcher where a magician is working his craft. But since magic is always double-edged, it also can show the watcher’s location as well.
“Now, we shall take a look at the area of interest. I could move our perspective area by area like so …” and his hands shifted, and the view swooped dizzyingly, and Sayana shifted to one side of the picture, and we were looking at a road that
led to Sulem Pass. “But there’s an easier way to get there. Here’s a bit of a mineral I pocketed when we were in the cavern.” He tossed it into the brazier, and the mercury pool swirled. “When it clears, we should be looking down at our mountain, and can move inside.”
“If a wizard can see us looking for him,” I said, a bit concerned, “couldn’t a demon like Thak?”
“Possibly — but it matters not, because there’s nothing he could do, save block our vision.”
The bowl swirled once more, then its edges cleared, and I saw rugged, mountainous terrain. But the center was a gray blur just as I’d seen over Fergana’s palace, except covering a far greater area.
“Mmm,” Tenedos said wryly. “The Tovieti jasks have their wards up. Let us see if we cannot move closer, and go through it.” He pushed his hands down, and the grayness filled the plate as our perspective came closer to the mountain.
The gray darkened to black, except here and there were light streaks. “Very good,” Tenedos said. “We’re now cutting straight down through the mountain. The brightness you see is crevasses that carry light from the outside. Very good indeed.”
Then the mercury roiled sharply, and began whirling, like a maelstrom. Tenedos looked alarmed, but before he could explain what was happening the vision cleared, and we were looking at Thak!
I do not know where he was — there was nothing but the crystal demon in the tray. Thak’s head creaked back, and he “looked” up at us. The mercury spun faster, and now there was a funnel, and we were about to be sucked down into it.
Thak’s arms came up, and his hands reached for us, coming up, closer and closer, and I felt the cold horror of death.
Somehow my muscles obeyed, and I kicked hard, against the table’s bottom, and the shock sent the tray spinning, globules of mercury flying across the room. The brazier flamed, and then went out, and that Presence was gone.
