The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy

by Chris Bunch

  Her brougham was luxurious, red enameled wood, with gold leaf covering it, and panels representing mythological events. There were four matched bays, and the driver and an outrider sat atop, and there was a stand for two more at the rear.

  Marán opened the door and greeted me. She wore baggy pantaloons, which I’d learned were the latest style, a red-and-black silk blouse that buttoned demurely around her neck, and a hooded fur jacket against the chill. Her face was a bit flushed, even though she had the window rolled shut.

  I bowed, kissed her hand, and climbed in. She shut the door and we rolled smoothly away. The inside of the coach was silk and comfortably padded upholstery.

  “I am delighted to see you, Countess,” I said formally.

  “And I you, Captain.” She smiled. “May I tell you something shocking?”

  “You may tell me anything, shocking or no.”

  “Here we are, on our way to a probably boring lecture, yet I feel like I could be a character in a romance, wickedly eluding her husband to meet with a dashing lover.”

  I started to make a jest out of it, but changed my mind.

  “Thank you, Marán. I am honored at the thought.”

  I could not see her expression in the dimness, and she remained silent for a moment. I broke the stillness:

  “I am curious about something you said the other night. You came to Nicias out of boredom?”

  Marán considered her words for a few moments. “That is what I tell people,” she said. “But there’s more than that. My family, as no doubt you know, is very old, and feels that all Numantia should revolve around their best interests.”

  “Most of us do, even if we don’t admit to it.”

  “Not as intensely as the Agramóntes,” she said. “My father, for instance, found me reading a book called The Duties of Man a few years back. Are you familiar with it? Well, it’s a long essay that holds all men have a duty to each other, that a man who owns slaves must take care of them and, in the end, the Wheel will return him to a better position if he is willing to free someone from bondage for performing extraordinary services. We Agramóntes, by the way, have not manumitted a slave for at least five generations that I know of.

  “The book also says the rulers of Man have a duty to rule wisely, firmly, and well, or else they forfeit their right to the throne. It says that a benevolent, but staunch, monarchy is the best of all possible rulers.

  “Since my father is close friends with most of the Rule of Ten, this is heresy. The book, by the way, while not quite proscribed, is not in wide circulation.

  “My family thinks that all is set, all is regulated, Irisu is the best of gods and Umar was well to abdicate to him. They frankly disbelieve in the merits of the Wheel, and while they’ll grudgingly concede a bad man might be taken down a few levels in his next life, most of us return on the same level we died on.”

  “So a lord is always a lord, a peasant always a peasant,” I said.

  “Just so, from now until the ending of the world.”

  “What do you think?”

  Marán considered.

  “I know what they believe is foolish. I know that Man, and this world, must change, just like the seasons do. I don’t think our rulers are the wisest. But what would be better?

  “To be frank, that is the real reason I invite people with new and different ideas to my home.

  “Women are not given much chance to learn,” she said. “I think that, too, is wrong.”

  I couldn’t but agree, and always had. Why was it accepted that my father could have gone to a lycee if he could have afforded it, but if my mother had wished to learn more than a tutor could have taught, there would have been cries of horror? So, too, my sisters had no chance of learning beyond the traveling teachers my father could convince to stay on for a time, able to pay them little but sustenance.

  I chose my next words carefully.

  “I guess, then, marrying Count Lavedan and being able to get away from your family’s conservatism was a great stroke of good fortune.”

  Silence dropped around us, and there was nothing but the creak of the wood and the clatter of the wheels on cobblestones.

  “Yes,” she said, and her voice was flat. “Of course it was.”

  • • •

  “What you are saying, sir, is nothing but high treason,” the man sputtered.

  “Not at all,” Seer Tenedos said calmly. “I said nothing about overthrowing the Rule of Ten. They are our rightful rulers, and I have served them faithfully, as you should know. Were I a man of temper, I might take offense at your words. Instead, let me reiterate the point of my lecture.

  “I’ll try to put it more simply. The Wheel turns. We agree on this. It brings change, it brings new life. It dictates to all of us how we must live.

  “We Numantians must learn to obey this. We must change as the years change. Once we had a firm, fair king, or so the legends tell us.

  “The Rule of Ten took the throne during a time of great crisis, vowing to hold it only as long as necessary.

  “This is what I am calling for. Is it not time for the Rule of Ten to take a hard look at what they are, at what they have done, and perhaps hear the sound of the Wheel for themselves?

  “Imagine this, sir. Wouldn’t you agree that the Rule of Ten are forced to spend too much time in useless meetings?”

  “Of course,” the man who’d leaped to his feet grudged.

  “Isn’t it also true they must spend too much time in never-ending debate before a decision is reached?”

  “I’ll accept that point as well.”

  “Then isn’t it logical, and hardly seditious, to wonder if perhaps their rule might be more efficient if, instead of ten, it were perhaps five?”

  “But that is the way it has always been!”

  Now there was a bit of laughter here and there in the crowded auditorium as the audience saw how Tenedos was leading the man.

  “Now we go back to my earlier point. Why does it always, always, always have to be that way? Why is it treason to conceive of a Rule of Five? Of course, it isn’t — there’ve been times when disease reduced their ranks and until new men were selected, the Rule performed its duties and the world did not come to an end.

  “Consider further. Be bold, sir. What about a Rule of Four? Or even … Three?”

  “Or even One, sir?"the man bristled.

  “You offered the thought, my friend.” Tenedos smiled benevolently. “So let’s take a look at one.”

  “Who are you recommending,” another voice asked. “Barthou? Scopas? Mahal?” There was more laughter at this last.

  “I am no politician, Lady,” Tenedos answered. “I’m a sorcerer who wishes to become a philosopher. So let us consider something else, since we’re talking about a single ruler.

  “Let us consider none of the men who currently serve. Let us imagine new, stronger blood.

  “Let us talk about a man who comes from outside, a man who hopefully has traveled all of Numantia, from the jungles of Cimabue to the forests and farmlands of Kallio, not someone who’s spent his entire life in Dara or, worse, in Nicias.

  “Let us consider a man who might consider himself a Numantian, not merely a Nician or Daran or Kallian. Let us consider a man who wishes to offer that vision to all the people of Numantia, who wants them to look beyond their narrow horizons, and see the greatness that is before them.

  “I tell you, men and women, Numantia is great. We have our problems now, problems most severe. But this is a passing thing, something that could be, to history, no more than an unfortunate note.

  “If Numantia can be given a direction, its natural energy driven, this nation could truly be the greatest of them all, and shine proud in the heavens.”

  “We sure as hells ain’t gonna get it from the Rule of Ten,” someone shouted.

  “Now, sir, be careful of your words. I respect your righteous anger at today’s situation. But there is nothing to say it cannot change. Perhaps the Rule of Ten m
ay wake on the morrow and take a firm hold of the reins.”

  There was a buzz of scorn.

  “That is your opinion,” Tenedos went on carefully. “Let us return to this mythical Rule of One. Imagine such a man who is not afraid to make the hard decisions, who has a vision of the future, who can lead from the front, not vacillate and waver from the rear. Imagine the battle standard of Numantia going forward … and all of us going forward, into the future, under it!”

  I looked at Marán. Her eyes were shining, her lips slightly parted, all her attention fixed on the man on the stage. Tenedos’s words were ringing true to her, going straight into her heart such as all the preachings in her salons had obviously not accomplished.

  I myself had heard most of what Tenedos was saying before, and agreed with a great deal of it, although I certainly wasn’t convinced that a Rule of One, a king, although he’d never use that word unless he wished the Rule of Ten’s wardens to arrest him for sedition, was the only solution. I marveled at how carefully he was able to skirt the very edge of treasonous speech without ever crossing over.

  I wondered if he’d cast a Spell of Persuasion on the room, but felt no unnatural working of my emotions, so eloquence rather than magic was holding the crowd.

  “Umar created, then withdrew,” Tenedos said. “Then it was Irisu’s turn. But perhaps his rule is growing old, perhaps he is growing tired. Aren’t even gods permitted to rest?”

  “Then the future will be Saionji’s,” someone said, and I heard fear in the tone.

  “Change is not always bad, my friend,” Tenedos said gently. “And to create it is sometimes necessary to do some destruction. Perhaps you are right and it is to be the time of Saionji.

  “Think of it,” and his voice rose. “If the goddess smiles on Numantia, sees our lands as the hope of man, and chooses us for her spearhead, what golden times would we live in after the change?

  “I am a seer, and I can tell you, when the gods and demons let me peep toward tomorrow, I see two visions. One is dark, a once-great kingdom lying in ruins and ruled by the harsh hand of outsiders. The other … the other is the dream I have held close, the dream I have shared with you this evening.

  “Thank you.” He bowed and stepped away from the podium. The crowd cheered, and boiled around Tenedos. Marán sat as if she’d been hypnotized.

  “Well?” I said.

  She shook herself out of her daze.

  “Thank you, Damastes. Oh, thank you for bringing me here.”

  “Come on,” I said, a little uncomfortably. “I’ll introduce you to the oracle.”

  I took her elbow and led her around the throng to one side, waiting until the congratulators and fawners grew fewer. Tenedos waved me to him.

  Standing beside him was a very beautiful woman, about his age. She had brown hair, cut close, wore a green gown with a matching head scarf. Her lips were full, lush, as was her body. She seemed to see no one but Tenedos.

  “Baroness Rasenna,” Marán greeted, her tone formal.

  The woman noticed Marán, and looked surprised.

  “Countess Agramóme and Lavedan. I never imagined I’d find you listening to the seer.”

  “Why not?” Marán said. “I listen to many. And the seer’s words make perfect sense to me.”

  “Yes,” Rasenna said, almost in a sigh. “Perfect sense indeed.”

  Tenedos looked at her, and now it was my turn for astonishment. His gaze was tender, loving. I wondered who this woman was who had evidently, if only for a moment, managed to calm the tiger of many bedrooms. Then he turned his attention to me.

  “Captain á Cimabue,” he said formally. “Thank you for bringing the Countess Agramónte and Lavedan.” He bowed low over Marán’s hand. “I am delighted to meet you. You must forgive me for missing your assembly.”

  “Only if you promise not to miss the next one.”

  “You have my vow. May I bring Rasenna?”

  “Of course,” Marán said, but I sensed her response was only out of politeness. “She’s been too long a stranger at our house.”

  Tenedos turned to me.

  “Damastes, there is someone you must meet.” He indicated a small man just behind him. “This is Kutulu. He is a warden who came to see what perfidy I was preaching, and I’m afraid I’ve corrupted him.”

  I would never have picked Kutulu for a man of the law. In fact, from the gleam in his eye, I might have thought him to be one of the crazed anarchists the wardens were always chasing after. He was small, already balding. He wore dark clothing and would be completely unnoticeable in a crowd. His eyes ran me up, then down, and I felt as if I’d been reduced to a single card and that card filed with others, never to be forgotten and easily retrievable.

  “Captain Damastes á Cimabue,” he said, in a voice surprisingly melodious. “I have wanted to meet you for some time now. We shall serve together well.”

  I blinked. Tenedos moved his head slightly — this was not the time to question.

  “I must return to my duties,” Kutulu said. “Thank you, Seer. I shall see you in the morning.”

  He might have been a magician himself for the ease with which he vanished. Tenedos saw my puzzlement and pulled me aside.

  “Kutulu came to spy, as I said, and listened to my words. Now he is one of us.”

  Us? I started to say something, then stopped. Was I one of Tenedos’s men? At that moment, I realized I was, although I’d sworn no oath.

  “Kutulu is interesting,” Tenedos said. “He always wanted to be a warden, but the gods did not give him a bruiser’s body. He chose to use his mind, but as yet the wardens of Nicias little respect intelligence.” Tenedos added, softly, “That is another matter that shall change. He shall be most useful in the future. It is good to have a man who can … keep track of things.”

  • • •

  As we rode back to my barracks, Marán told me who the baroness was. At one time she had a fairly lurid reputation for taking and discarding lovers, but her wealth had kept her from being blacklisted, although the best families were reluctant to invite her to their doings. Then she’d married, and her ways had changed. She’d been, as far as anyone knew, completely loyal to her husband. He’d died in a boating accident about eight months earlier, and everyone in Nicias’s high social circles had begun watching Rasenna to see if she’d return to her old ways.

  “But from the way she was talking,” Marán said, “it appears she’s completely taken with the seer.”

  “Good,” I said. “He could use someone beside him. I just hope she realizes what he is. He’ll never be a conventional person like I am.”

  “Are you, Damastes?” Marán murmured. “I think you might be selling yourself most short.”

  The coach pulled to a halt, and I pulled the window’s drawn shade aside. We were in front of the regimental area.

  “Thank you for the evening, Marán,” I said, and reached across her to open the door.

  Her perfume swept out like that fog in faraway Sayana, and took me. Our faces were about a foot apart.

  Again I swam in the pool of her eyes, then they slowly closed and her lips parted.

  I kissed her softly, just brushing her mouth, then my arm went around her shoulders and she came to me, our lips crushed together, her tongue moving deep in my mouth.

  I don’t remember the embrace ending, or stepping out of the coach or walking back to my quarters.

  SEVENTEEN

  CHARDIN SHER

  Now I wanted my life to be calm, while I tried to work out this new and most vexing development. I had no idea what to do about Marán. I didn’t know if I was falling in love, still not sure what that feeling might be, but I knew I cared more for her than any woman I could remember.

  I knew I should never see her again. I had bedded married women before, certainly, but it had been for a single night, a momentary fling, and somehow I realized this was not in either of our hearts. Was I prepared to assume the responsibilities of an affair? I knew my father wou
ld growl and remind me of our motto, and that its corollary was that we must also respect the vows of others. I was a Cimabuan, not a Nician, who have the reputation of always carrying their cocks low and ready, like a water witch’s wand, ready to stick them into anything that doesn’t move fast enough.

  Practically, seeing Marán again was also absurd. If we did have an affair, and word reached her husband, he could ruin me with a single word or a note to one of his friends in the government.

  I needed time to think. But Saionji, who I was starting to believe was intervening in Numantia’s affairs, did not grant my wish.

  The day after Laish Tenedos’s speech, Domina Lehar told us the Great Conference on the Border States would be held in Nicias within two weeks. In fact, Chardin Sher, prime minister of Kallio, had already crossed the border into Dara with his retinue, and other state heads would be arriving shortly. But their importance was secondary, not only because they represented smaller states — Dara and Kallio were the two largest in Numantia — but because Kallio had always been Dara’s rival for the real power in the kingdom. This was especially true now, since Chardin Sher had taken the post of prime minister five years ago and had shown himself an independent-minded ruler of great strength, who only paid heed to the Rule of Ten when it suited him.

  The Golden Helms were ordered to full readiness for the conference, to provide security and glitter. Two of the city’s other parade units, the Nineteenth Foot and the Second Heavy Cavalry, also had leaves canceled and all men ordered to stand by.

  We would be spread most thinly, even so. The people of Nicias pride themselves on never being surprised by anything. But this appearance of Chardin Sher, the first time he had deigned to visit the capital, set the populace atremble. His route from the docks to the palace he’d been assigned by the Rule of Ten was laid out in the broadsides, and every window along the procession sold for a good price in silver. The streets would be jammed on that day with spectators. Nicias planned to give itself a holiday when the Kallian arrived.

  “Is it not interesting,” Tenedos observed, “how the masses will flock around a man they know to be strong, even though he could well be their enemy in a month or a year.” He then added that he himself hoped to meet Chardin Sher. When I asked him if this didn’t mean he was no different from the rest of us, he looked angry for a moment, then chuckled. “That is why I like you, Damastes. You serve to remind me I’m just as prone to the passions and angers of the moment as anyone.”