The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy

by Chris Bunch

  It was seething rain, and the torches the watch held smoked, sending shadows against the water-walls that washed across us. But I could see well enough.

  Lance-Major Wace’s head was impaled on his broken-off lance just outside the gate. Piled against the lance were the heads of my other men.

  We were cut off from Urey.

  “But what is it you desire of me?” Achim Fergana asked, trying to sound concerned.

  “Since Your Majesty evidently can no longer govern his own city, cannot guarantee the safety of the public streets to men and women of my country, I must ask for permission to depart, along with all other Numantians and those who’ve chosen me as their protector.”

  “What will your masters think of that?” he said.

  “The Rule of Ten will be most displeased,” Tenedos said. “That I can guarantee. What action they may choose to make, I cannot say, but I know it will be harsh, and not in the best interests of Kait.”

  “I do not see why my kingdom should be made to suffer because of the actions of a handful of fanatics.” Achim Fergana actually looked worried; perhaps he’d never considered the course of his actions, or, more correctly, inactions.

  “Where were your soldiers when my Residency was attacked, O Achim? Where were your wardens when innocents were slaughtered yesterday?”

  “Sayana is experiencing great unrest,” Fergana said. “They were occupied with other duties.”

  “I noted what those were when we entered your palace,” Tenedos said. “Tell me, O Achim, are you so afraid of the Tovieti you must have all your army protecting you?”

  Tenedos’s guess the day before had been correct: Soldiers packed the palace, and the gratings were lowered on all levels of the balconies above, and archers lined them.

  Fergana’s face engorged in anger, but I wasn’t watching him that closely; I’d seen, with fascination, the effect the word Tovieti had on the handful of courtiers around him. It was as if a bloody corpse had been cast in front of them.

  “You cannot speak to me in that manner!”

  “Forgive me if I spoke in error. But this is a waste of both of our time,” Tenedos said, steel in his tones. “I ask you for one thing. Nay, I do not ask it, I demand it, in the name of the Rule of Ten, and the vast armies they command, armies who seek but an excuse to pull free the long-time thorn that is the Border States. I demand you provide myself and those men and women under my charge safe passage to your borders.”

  Fergana breathed deeply, forcing control. He gained it.

  “Of course you have that,” he said. “You need not threaten me with your soldiers. Seer Tenedos, your presence in my kingdom has not been a happy one, in spite of a certain service you managed to perform for me.

  “Now I bid you go, and take your fellow Ph’rëng with you. You will not be troubled, you will not be bothered. But never return to my kingdom again, not you, not your soldiers, nor your people.

  “I hereby proclaim the Kingdom of Kait to be closed to all Numantians from the time you cross the border into Urey until the end of time itself!”

  Achim Fergana rose and stalked from the room.

  That was when the nightmare began.

  TWELVE

  DEATH IN THE ICE

  We’d expected mobs to jeer us out of Sayana. But — and this was most ominous — there were only a few scuttling figures on the streets when we marched out.

  We left the Residency at dawn. It had taken us three days to prepare for departure, setting up the order of march, making sure the civilians had proper clothing and footgear, assigning as many elderly or infirm to wagons as we could, preparing rations, and so forth.

  We chanced going outside the Residency to buy extra food and horses, although we were hardly welcome in Sayana’s marketplace. We bought with one hand holding gold and the other on the grip of our swords. We had just enough food, I hoped, counting the iron rations and dry reserves in the compound, for the journey back to Urey.

  My final task was to call together the fifty remaining hillmen. I told them their duty was finished, and to line up for their final pay. I said that once they’d gotten their gold, Seer Tenedos would cast a spell so they could slip out the gate and disappear into the city without attracting notice. I thanked them for their faithfulness, said I was proud to have to known them, and wished things had gone differently.

  About ten of them drew aside, Legate Yonge at their head. I went to him, and he said quietly, “We wish to serve on with you, Legate á Cimabue.”

  I told him how honored I was but that, quite frankly, he was being foolish. “There is a long journey between here and safety, and I know we face enemies at every turn.”

  “Life itself is nothing more than that.” Yonge shrugged. “I took an oath to serve you Ph’rëng, and do not wish to be released from it.”

  “Yonge, think, man. Even if we make it to Urey, you’ll be an exile. You’ll never be able to return to Kait as long as Fergana lives.”

  “Do you honestly believe,” the hillman said, “that lizard shit who calls himself achim will let any of us escape his punishment for serving you? I know he’ll have his jasks cast seeking spells for anyone who swore fealty to the resident-general, and a slow death will follow their discovery.

  “No. I would prefer to take my chances with the seer, as would my fellows.” He started to say more, but broke off.

  “Go ahead,” I encouraged.

  “Two other reasons. You treated us as equals when you came, as did all your Lancers, in spite of what I know they feel about Kaiti. This is the way of honor. I wish to learn more about it.

  “Besides” — he grinned — “I have never seen Urey, and would like to learn what skills their women have when they come willingly to your bed.”

  I could do nothing other than accept. For their safety on the march, I told them to dress themselves as Numantians, although I wished them to keep their native garb ready. There might be a need for a Kaiti spy on our journey.

  We planned to cover the nearly 100 miles in about ten days, weather permitting. The rains were coming to a halt, and while it was bitter cold, so far the winter storms had not begun.

  The order of march was One and Two Columns, Seventeenth Lancers, at the front; then two platoons of the Khurram Light Infantry; then the civilians; a third platoon of the KLI; Four Column; our wagons, which I asked Captain Mellet to take charge of; the last of the infantry and Three Column, which I personally regarded as the best of my troop, at the rear, under the command of Troop Guide Bikaner. I half apologized for always giving him the hardest task. He half smiled and said, “ ‘S alright, sir. I’m gettin’ so used to eatin’ dust now I’ve grown t’like its taste.”

  The city gate stood open, and the guards were withdrawn. Sitting on horseback, just on the other side, was Achin Baber Fergana, surrounded by some of his courtiers and cavalrymen.

  Now we heard jeering, but it was muted. Even these lackeys were afraid of Tenedos’s magic, which had killed Jask Irshad and saved us from the demon.

  Tenedos held up his hand, and we reined in. He stared long and hard at Fergana, his eyes harsh, as if he were cutting a steel engraving of the man. Fergana grew visibly nervous under the stare, then wheeled his horse and galloped around us, his men streaming after him, back into Sayana.

  One of them turned as he rode through the gates, and shouted, “M’rt tê Ph’rëng!”

  Tenedos turned to me. “Ride on, Legate.”

  I shouted commands, and the long train creaked forward.

  Behind me, I heard Lance Karjan grunt, “Good, that. Don’t give th’ bastard no satisfaction. ‘Though it’d do me good t’see th’ seer send a bolt a lightnin’ up that shit-heel’s arse, ‘twould.”

  It was a charming thought, and I did wish Tenedos had cast some sort of spell, even though my rational mind knew the achim was well surrounded with protection from his court jasks.

  It gave me something to think about as we crawled north toward Sulem Pass. If I’d had to watch
my words before, when we’d first made the slow passage, now I must be doubly careful. I must not try to hurry these civilians, for fear they’d panic, or else lose all belief in themselves and lie down to die.

  Another thought occurred: I told Lance Karjan that he might have chosen to be my servant, but the best way he could serve was to stick close to Seer Tenedos. I could manage for myself, but the resident-general must survive. Karjan muttered darkly, but obeyed, and from that time on stayed as close to Tenedos as he’d permit.

  This was fairly open country, so I was able to keep Two Column out as flankers. The few Kaiti we saw stayed distant from the road.

  I’d expected harassing attacks the moment we went beyond the gate, but nothing happened. I knew better than to expect Fergana’s safe-conduct to be better than before, and wondered when we’d be hit.

  We camped the first night, having made almost twelve miles, which sounds like very little, but on a first day’s march, with inexperienced people, it was quite respectable.

  Seer Tenedos said he would put out magical wards, so no more than a third of my men were needed as guards. He sensed no spells being cast against us as yet.

  The second day went even better, and I grew quite worried — the longer the wait, the nastier the surprise.

  Captain Mellet chided me for my gloom.

  “We could,” he said, “be the first Numantians to have good luck in Sulem Pass, now couldn’t we?”

  We broke into rueful laughter at the same time.

  That day we made fourteen miles, and the weather held as it’d been, cold, with a chill wind coming down from the mountaintops.

  It was almost noon on the third day when the hillmen made their first move. The ground was no longer so open, and the icy river ran to one side of the road, so I had pulled my flankers back into the main column.

  From nowhere about a hundred mounted men appeared in front of us, blocking the road. I heard cries of alarm from the civilians, but paid no heed.

  The hillmen trotted toward us, only stopping when I shouted for them to halt or be fired upon.

  One man walked his horse forward. He was tall, quite thin, and his beard was braided. He wore a long multicolored coat, made of different animal furs, and his long saber hung below his stirrups.

  He pulled up about twenty feet from me.

  “So you are the Numantians, eh?”

  “Your perception is almost as acute as your eyesight,” Tenedos said.

  The man grinned, showing blackened teeth.

  “I am Memlinc, and my word is law in Sulem Pass.”

  “I know some other Men of the Hills,” Tenedos said, “who might argue that.”

  “Pah. Bandits, no more. They all kneel when I come before them.”

  “No doubt,” Tenedos agreed. “So why have you honored us with your presence, Memlinc the Great?”

  “I wished to see the Ph’rëng that pig Fergana ordered out of Sayana. You have some women I might fancy, or one of my warriors might like. One of my elders has the Gift, and he’s shown me, in a vision, a girl or two worthy of attending me in bed.

  “Yes, women. And perhaps half your gold and jewels. I am a reasonable man, but since you must pass through my domain, I think it only reasonable for you to pay some sort of tribute, eh?”

  Tenedos waited a long moment, then leaned forward and said softly, “Fuck you.” Memlinc blinked.

  “To be precise,” the seer went on, “fuck you, fuck the whore who called herself your mother and fuck the father you never knew because he never paid for the first time.”

  Memlinc’s face paled.

  “You cannot speak to me like that! No one can and still live!”

  “Ah?” Tenedos’s voice was still mild.

  Memlinc’s hand flashed to his dagger, just as my blade slid half out of its sheath.

  “Very well,” he said, and pulled his lips back into something resembling a smile. “Let your words carry their own penalty. I offered you peace … now see what my other hand carries.”

  He picked up his reins, and made as if to turn his horse. Instead, he spurred it forward, straight at the column, in a full gallop.

  I guess this was his way of showing his courage to his fellows. They shouted encouragement, and made as if to charge. My archers’ bows were up, a volley went out, and the hill-men’s ranks became a cluster of plunging, wounded horses.

  Memlinc hurtled down our column at full speed. No one had time to draw a sword and strike at him, and he was too close for bow or lance.

  But he didn’t reckon with Lucan. I spun my horse in his tracks and shouted him into a run.

  A spear almost took the hillman, but he ducked under it, then drove his horse through the last few infantrymen into the column toward the second wagon. On it were a handful of women, a few old civilians, and some children. Riding beside the driver was one of Tenedos’s retainers, an assistant pastry chef named Jacoba. I’d noted her before — a small, exceptionally striking young woman, a year or two older than I was, with long, dark hair she normally wore tied into a bun — but had never so much as spoken to her.

  She must have been one of the beauties Memlinc’s elder had magically pointed out, because with a shout of triumph the Kaiti leaned from his saddle, scooped Jacoba across it, spurred his horse away from the road.

  I turned my own mount through the column after him. One of Mellet’s men was fumbling with his javelin, and I yanked it from his grip.

  Memlinc rode for a twisting ravine. Once he was away from the road, no one would dare follow him. He was crouched in the saddle, his face far forward on his horse’s neck.

  I stood in my stirrups, balanced … and cast. Perhaps he thought Numantians were gentlemanly at war, or fools, because I did not aim at him, but at the far better target. The spear took his horse in the haunches. It screamed, and fell, sending the woman and her kidnapper tumbling. I pulled Lucan up hard, skidding, and came out of the saddle as Memlinc rolled to his feet. His saber had been lost in the fall, and he ran at me, yanking a long dagger from inside his coat. His hand swooped down to pick up a rock as he came. As he started to pitch it underhand into my face my sword snaked out, and his hand, still holding the rock, fell to the ground. He had an instant to stare in disbelief at his blood pulsing out, then my blade ripped into him on the counterstroke, cutting deep into his chest, smashing through his ribs and into his heart.

  Behind me I heard battle shouts, but paid them no mind. I ran forward, I lifted the stunned Jacoba, and turned to find Lucan. He was beside me, sensing that we had but an instant. I mounted, yanking Jacoba across the pommel of my saddle, and then we galloped hard for the safety of the train.

  A handful of Memlinc’s riders had attempted to ride to the aid of their leader, but my men cut them off. There were a handful of bodies, men and horses, down in front of the column, and the rest of the bandits were fleeing up a wide draw.

  I waved to Tenedos to resume the march. I returned Jacoba to her wagon just as she got her wind back. Her nose was bloody, her coat dirty from the fall, and I suspected she’d have a black eye on the morrow. She tried to find strength for words, but it had not returned as yet. I touched my helmet and rode back to the head of the formation.

  As I rode past Two Column I heard a low whistle, the mocking signal the men used to show exaggerated awe at a particular piece of grandstanding. I buried a grin, and put a scowl on. Two Column would be my choice for rotten details for the next few days.

  I pulled my horse in beside Tenedos.

  “Now I wonder,” he said, without preamble, “if that was Memlinc’s plan from the beginning, or if he was merely improvising?”

  “Probably the last, sir. I’ll guess he needed to do some showing off to make sure his men still thought he was worthy to lead them.”

  “Speaking of showing off,” he said after a few seconds, “what, Legate Damastes á Cimabue, do they teach you at the lycee about a soldier who abandons his command to do something perfectly stupid, if noble?”


  “Generally, sir,” I said, realizing I had been a gods-damned fool but not regretting it for a moment, “he gets praised, then taken behind the barracks, given a thumping by one of the bigger warrants, and told never, ever do something like that again.”

  “My congratulations, then. When we reach Urey,” Tenedos said, “I may wish to borrow Troop Guide Bikaner for an afternoon. Until then, however, do me the favor of not performing any more daring rescues that can get you killed. I really do not wish to command a troop of Lancers in addition to my other responsibilities.”

  “Yessir. And while we’re talking about responsibilities, sir, may I say how shocked I am at the language a professional diplomat sometimes uses?”

  “Tut, young Legate,” Tenedos said, mock-magisterially. “Consider this: Our opponent is defeated, is he not? His forces have retreated, have they not? Our way lies unobstructed, and we wasted little time in the colloquy, correct?

  “Perhaps,” he said, mock-mournfully, “I should have attempted similar tactics with our friend the Achim.”

  That was the last time I laughed for a long time.

  • • •

  The next day the raiders came back — or perhaps it was a different clan of bandits. They lay concealed on the other side of the riverbank until the cavalry passed, then about thirty archers rose from concealment and showered arrows into the front two platoons of foot soldiers. The infantrymen instantly charged; the best way to survive an ambush is to attack the least-expected direction. The archers turned and splashed away through the shallow river without fighting.

  On the other side of the road men darted out of their hiding places and ran toward the wagons, screaming war cries. They cut down the thin screen of guards, and in seconds grabbed what they fancied from the wagons and were gone. At the same time a third group struck the civilians. They stole ten Numantians — five women, including two of the KLI’s camp followers, a ten-year-old girl, a baby, and three men.

  Then there was nothing but the keening of the wind through the rocks and the cries of the wounded and dying. Seven soldiers, six men of the KLI and one of my hillmen, died in that skirmish, and another half dozen were wounded.