by Chris Bunch
“This bodes very poorly,” Tenedos said. “The Rule of Ten strictly control the broadsheets. I suppose they’ve decided we’ve become entirely too popular, or what we’re saying is likely to so inflame the populace they’ll be forced to take strong action against Kait.
“I fear we’re doomed, Damastes.”
The next, the fourth, day, the broadsheet writers were still in attendance, although I saw that none of them were writing down our testimony. The members of the Nicias Council weren’t present, and had allowed underlings to appear in their place for amusement. Then Tenedos mentioned the Tovieti. Instantly Barthou was standing, the rod of office held before him.
“This has now entered the realm of state secrets,” he said. “Resident-General Tenedos, please cease speaking until the chamber is cleared.”
Guards hastily hustled the audience out.
Tenedos, looking very unhappy, continued his tale. When he’d finished, there were no questions or comments, and Barthou adjourned the session.
Three more days went the same, and we were finished. During our story of the final retreat from Sayana, Barthou and his lackeys had urged Tenedos and myself to speak more succinctly — there were other matters requiring their immediate attendance.
Then we were done.
The Rule of Ten said they would announce what action they planned to take as soon as possible, and thanked us once more for appearing.
We’d barely returned to our rooms when we were summoned by the guards. Before I met Tenedos, and was still innocent about the ways of government, I would have thought this meant their ire had been righteously roused, and there’d be an immediate declaration of war against Kait But now I knew better.
And so it was. The room was empty except for the recorder, ourselves, and the Rule of Ten. Mahal would not look at Tenedos, and Scopas’s expression was completely unreadable.
In smooth, measured tones Barthou said that Kait had erred most grievously, and there would be a most harsh diplomatic note sent to Sayana, “as soon as circumstances permitted its transmission.” That meant they weren’t even brave enough to send a full regiment of cavalry down the Sulem Pass and shove the note down Achim Fergana’s throat.
Anger grew within me.
“We further proclaim mercantile sanctions against Kait,” Barthou went on. “These, which will be announced within a week, will be maintained until Baber Achim Fergana makes appropriate restitution to the victims of the Sulem Pass horror.”
Mercantile sanctions? What punishment was that? The men of the Border States took what they wanted at swordpoint, or traded surreptitiously in remote villages.
“Finally,” Barthou said, “it is our decision that the matter of the Border States and their dissident natives has been ignored too long. Therefore, we are summoning a Great Conference, to be attended by the rulers of all states who touch on their lands, to be held in the Tenth Day of the Time of Births to discuss the matter.
“The Rule of Ten has spoken! Proclaim this word throughout all Numantia!” He started to set the rod of office down.
Tenedos was on his feet, speaking even before he was recognized: “But what of Thak? What of the Tovieti?”
Two of the Ten looked at each other.
“Local phenomenon,” Chare said. “Not worth concerning ourselves about.”
“Then why was I ordered to report on them when I first went to Kait? You seemed most concerned about the matter then.”
“We were unaware of the nature of the … phenomenon,” Chare said. “Now we are satisfied it is of little consequence.”
“I declare this meeting over,” Barthou said hastily, before Tenedos could challenge them any further.
Now rage took me like a mastiff shakes a kitten, and I was standing. All that I could see was that stormy pass, and hear Captain Mellet’s last words: “Tell them there are still men on the Frontiers who know how to die!”
“Are you all cowards that — ” I managed, then gasped as Tenedos kicked me on the ankle, hard enough to make me stumble back against the bench. Before I could recover, the Rule of Ten had stood and swept out, so many crows walking a limb.
I almost went after them, and I saw alarmed guards start toward us. Tenedos and then Karjan had me by the arms, and were moving me out of the chamber as quickly as the Rule of Ten had fled.
I found enough self-control not to break away, or snarl at my two friends, and I let myself be taken to my rooms. I paced back and forth like a caged tiger, staring at the door, wishing one of those cowardly bastards would come through it.
But the only one who did, and that after two hours, was Laish Tenedos, who tapped softly, then entered without waiting for an invitation.
He held two ornate crystal goblets and a great decanter of brandy.
“This is seventy-five years old,” he said. “It’s supposedly good for soothing wrath. At any rate the palace’s vintner says it will make you amazingly drunk and free of worries.”
“I’ll be blasted if I want anything from them, especially not their damned drink!”
“Tut, tut,” soothed Tenedos. “Never turn down a chance to drink an enemy’s liquor. It can be the sweetest of all, while you plan for the future.”
He poured the goblets quite full and handed me one.
I took it, started to drain it, then stopped. I took two deep breaths, then pulled the stopper from the decanter and began pouring the liquor back. If you drink, it should only be when times are good.
But before the glass was emptied, I had a second thought, and left a single swallow.
I lifted it in a toast.
“To Captain Mellet,” I said. “I, at least, shall not forget him.”
Tenedos looked at me in surprise, then nodded agreement.
“To Captain Mellet.” We drained our glasses.
“Thank you, Seer. I think it is time I sleep.”
“As you wish, my friend. For me, sleep may require some assistance.” He picked up the decanter. “I shall see you in the morning.”
But in spite of my words, the world was gray outside before I was able to sleep.
Later that day, Seer Tenedos and I were called to the Rule of Ten’s chamber. I expected to be disciplined for my outburst, and resolved to take whatever punishment those fools had come up with stoically.
There were only two of the Rule of Ten in the chamber: Farel, one of Barthou’s contingent, and Scopas. He sat in Bar-thou’s seat.
“Legate Damastes á Cimabue,” he began, “it is the decision of the Rule of Ten that you have served us well.
“In recognition of this, we have ordered you promoted to captain of the Lower Half, this promotion to become effective immediately.”
I was damned if I would give either of them the satisfaction of gaping, and managed to keep my face still. My outburst had been ignored, and instead my sash of office would now carry a single black band, a promotion I would not have expected in peacetime for ten years, and that after only the most meritorious service.
“We also think that your standards are worthy of note, and therefore are reassigning you from the Frontiers to our capital. You are hereby given a new posting to Numantia’s proudest formation, the Golden Helms of Nicias.”
Fuck!
“There is another reason we made this decision,” Scopas went on. “We may wish to hear more details of your harrowing experience in the Border States when the Border Conference assembles, and wish you to remain close at hand.”
He fell silent. I knew what I was supposed to do, but hated doing it. But a soldier must accept the harsh as readily as the soft, and so I came to attention, clapped my chest in salute, wheeled, and marched out, followed by Yonge and Karjan.
I started for my quarters, feeling, as one of my lycee instructors would have put it, shit and sugar, but mostly shit. But the guard stopped me, and said I was to wait for Resident-General Tenedos.
It was about half an hour later when the seer emerged, a tight smile on his face.
“We h
ave great reason to thank the Rule of Ten,” he said in a clear voice. “They have done us a boon, and we are in their debt.”
When he and I were alone in his rooms, and his Square of Silence spell in place, he started to explain, but saw my expression first.
“Will it be that bad?” he asked.
I started to find some polite military lie, then decided to tell the truth.
“It won’t be the best, sir. All I’ll be doing is polishing brass, riding up and down, and holding the door open for fat-ass diplomats, begging your pardon, sir. It’ll be a year, maybe more, before I’ll be able to put in to transfer to some unit where there’s likely to be some action. Hells, I don’t even know if the Lancers will be willing to take me back.”
“Legate,” Tenedos said, “I was not speaking for unseen ears when I said we had been granted a boon. I’m very glad you’re being stationed here in Nicias, for purely selfish reasons.
“I’ll make a bet with you. Within a year … no, two at the outside, I’ll have need of your service, and not to open any doors for me, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Time will answer that question,” he said. “I shall not, because I can’t tell how the future shall twist. But I know this course cannot run true much longer.”
At the moment I had little patience for his theories about how the days of Numantia’s rulers were numbered, but I said nothing. Then my natural curiosity took me.
“What reward did you receive, sir? I hope one more satisfactory than mine.”
“Most definitely. Scopas praised me to the heavens, then said I could either remain in government service or return to civilian life. If I chose the former, he had a list of some eight posts I could pick from.
“I scanned them quickly, and found them to be just as I’d expected — places where I would be absent from the public eye, and unhappy enough to resign in a short time.
“So I picked the worst of all — in their minds.
“Congratulate me, Legate. I am now the head of the Military Sorcery Department for the Lycee of Command.”
That academy was intended to train hand-picked dominas for the highest rank in the army. An officer chosen for that school was guaranteed he’d see general rank before retiring unless he committed some unimaginable error.
“Now,” he went on, “I knew full well before you told me just how low an opinion the army has of magic, which we’ve discussed. So now, in the bowels of the beast, I’m expected to be digested and shat out into the darkness, and my radical theories heard no more.
“But this shall be where I prove my ideals. Prove them and find the disciples I’ll need. If I cannot, well then, Saionji has picked a weak vessel for her message. But I doubt that.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, indeed. The Rule of Ten will bitterly rue this day.”
I was glad one of us was content.
As for me, in spite of Tenedos’s reassurances, I was trapped in Nicias.
FIFTEEN
THE CITY OF LIGHTS
I wasted no more time in the palace, but swiftly packed my gear and prepared to move to the barracks of the Golden Helms. Tenedos said he’d see that Yonge fell into as little mischief as possible, and took him into his employ, “always needing,” Tenedos said, “the duties of a good serviceable murderer in these unsettled times.
“I hope,” he went on, “the next time we serve together it shall be in happier times and circumstances. Assuming you do wish that to happen.”
I thought about it for a moment, then grinned. I’d chosen a life of adventure, and certainly being around the seer had granted that. I was still sound in limb, and had learned an infinite amount in the year or so we’d been together.
“Seer,” I said formally, “you have but to call. I’ll follow your orders again.”
And so I swore my first oath of fealty to Laish Tenedos. It was the least ceremonious of them all, but the most important, remembering our family motto:
We Hold True.
I bade Tenedos farewell, and promised to look him up at the lycee as soon as I settled into my new post.
I asked Lancer Karjan if he wished to remain my servant, which I knew would be permitted, or return to the Lancers. He thought hard, then grunted and said, “I’ll see this un through. F’r a while at least. Sir.”
We were offered a carriage, but didn’t need it, tying what little gear we had behind to Lucan’s and Rabbit’s saddles. Rabbit by now was used to riders other than myself, so he snorted only once when Karjan climbed into the saddle, and we set off to join the Golden Helms.
The Rule of Ten may have been complacent, but it did not show from the way they had positioned the military about Nicias. The army’s main elements were just to the north of the Palace of the Rule of Ten, as were two other regimental headquarters, guarding their masters from a bare five minutes’ distance. I wondered how much real trust the Rule of Ten had in their own people.
A branch of the River Latane was about half a mile to our west as it curved through the city, and there was one of Nicias’s huge parks, named Hyder Park, between us and the palace.
Even though it was still winter, the weather was quite pleasant, as it generally is in Nicias, the farthest north and closest to the equator of all Numantia’s cities, so our ride was quite pleasant. We admired the park’s bridle paths, gazebos, open-air taverns, and swan-decorated lakes. I thought it most curious that all the people I saw were well dressed and comfortable looking, a far cry from most of the city’s populace. I wondered if the general populace was kept out by order, or if it was a matter of custom as was so much in this ancient city.
The Golden Helms’ brick barracks sprawled among rolling lawns, graveled parade grounds, and manicured rõl fields. Even though I knew I would hate this assignment, a half-smile touched my lips as we rode under the arching entrance to the cantonment, a smile of familiarity. Here a punishment squad under the snarling guidance of a lance-major spaded fertilizer around trees with their trunks uniformly painted white for three feet above the ground; there another warrant bawled orders at the awkward squad riding back and forth on a parade ground; an anxious officer hurried down one of the twisting stone paths, intent on a private errand and barely noticing the salute of a passing lance.
Familiar … but not really, for I realized at this time of day, early afternoon, the area should be filled with soldiers drilling, at sport, being lectured to, or practicing their tactics.
We asked our way to the regiment’s headquarters, and I reported to the adjutant, a captain of the Upper Half named Lardier, and inquired when it would be convenient for me to present myself to the unit’s domina.
“Perhaps tomorrow.” The adjutant yawned. “Domina Lehar may have returned from his estate. Or perhaps not. Certainly he’ll be back by the Twenty-Sixth Day, for there’s an important parade, in honor of the Prince of Hermonassa, then.
“But don’t worry, Captain á Cimabue. He’s aware of you. We’ve all heard of your coming.
“By the way. Congratulations on your promotion. I’m sure you deserve it, and hope that a combat veteran such as yourself encounters no difficulties with the customs of the Golden Helms.”
He turned and looked at a chart. “Mm. Yes. I think I’ll put you in charge of B Troop. They call themselves the Silver Centaurs. Legate Nexo was in temporary command of the troop, but you have rank on him. Perhaps he’d be willing to serve on under you, although I doubt it.”
I’d known this would happen, even in a line regiment. My rapid promotion over who knows how many thousand young legates would rouse resentment not only in the hearts of those I overleaped, but from my superiors as well. I would have to soldier well to find approval in their eyes.
“I’ll have a word with the legate,” I said. “Who is my troop guide?”
“At the moment … well, you don’t have one. He bought himself out of the army a month or so ago, and Domina Lehar hasn’t gotten around to promoting one yet. See what you think of your men, and offer s
ome suggestions, there’s a good man.”
I saluted, and turned to leave.
“One more thing, Captain. Are those your horses outside? I thought so. Well, you can certainly keep them for off-duty mounts. But all the men of B Troop ride blacks. I’ll notify the remount officer you’ll be needing a new charger. You can select one at your leisure.” I withdrew, somewhat shaken at my more-than-casual welcome, and went to my troop area.
Each troop had a separate building, with the regimental headquarters at the center of the cluster, and behind that the necessary shops for the unit’s support. When I arrived the barracks were nearly deserted, and the only warrant in the orderly room was a junior lance-major. He sprang to attention, and I noted that his uniform was immaculate, as was everything else I’d seen.
I told him who I was, and asked where Legate Nexo was. He said in the city, visiting friends.
I made no comment, but thought this was the most social unit I’d ever seen. Where were the men of my troop? A few on detail, some in the stables, but most of them, since B Troop was standby troop this week, on pass in Nicias.
“Standby, eh? What are we on standby for?”
“Well, sir, in the event of any emergency.”
“How would they be summoned, if they’re all farting about in taverns?”
The lance-major looked perplexed. “Well, sir, there’s never been an occasion like that in the six years I’ve been with the regiment. But I suppose we’d have to wait until they reported back. Maybe send messengers to the taverns the troop usually drinks in.”
I began to growl an opinion, but caught myself in time. There is no bigger military fool than the one who joins a new formation and instantly knows what must be changed. I politely thanked the lance-major, and had him show me to my quarters.
As a troop commander and captain, I’d expected a room to myself, but I was quite pleased with how large it was, including not only a bedroom and separate office, but also a bathroom and small chamber for Karjan. I ordered Karjan to take Lucan and Rabbit to the stables. He saluted, started to leave, then hesitated.
“What’s the problem, Lance? You may speak freely.”
