The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy

by Chris Bunch

  “Of course. Rasenna’s already snoring, so she’ll never know I’m not beside her. She’s getting used to my hours anyway. Come on in. There’s a flask of tea over there, and bring me a brandy. I think I deserve one.”

  “Yessir. Sir, I brought someone I think you should meet.” I beckoned, and Mercia Petre entered rather shyly. I introduced him.

  “So this, I assume, is to be more than social,” the seer said. “Very well. Captain, do you drink, or are you a prune like the domina?”

  “Nossir. I’m an abstainer, too. Promised my father.”

  “Gods,” Tenedos moaned. “I’m surrounded by prigs.” He appeared in a vastly good mood, and I was relieved.

  “Sir, the reason we came here is because you’re in the middle of reforming the army, and we have some ideas.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Not like ours, sir,” I said. “The captain and I’ve spent a lot of time working things out, ever since I met him when we first came back from Kait.”

  “Ah. Another set of conspirators against the Way Things Are. You are both to be commended, although Damastes, I admit to some surprise, since I thought you were a man of deeds, not words.” He looked at Petre. “I call the domina by his first name since we’ve served together for quite a while. Don’t think I hold him and what he says in any less regard because of it.”

  “Nossir,” Petre said. “He already told me that.” He was fumbling in his sabertache for the notebook containing our ideas we’d laboriously built up over the months. He started to hand it to Tenedos, who waved it away.

  “Tell me first. Then, if there’s merit to what you say, we can work from there.

  “Where’s the starting point for your army?”

  “First, sir, we should abandon the baggage train. All it does is slow us down, like it did when I was riding into the Sulem Pass after you, or — ” I shut up, because Tenedos was waving his hand at me.

  “I’m not quite a fool, Damastes, and I’d already figured that out. It’s already in my plans. But how, in your view, should the army resupply itself? Carry a limited amount of supplies and encamp when they run out, waiting for the victual-bearers to catch up?”

  “Off the country,” Petre said. “We put out quartermasters in wagons, cavalry to screen them, and we take what we need. From the rich, if possible, but from any enemy.”

  Tenedos looked a bit surprised. “That’s interesting,” he mused. “And it would certainly lessen the cost of a war, turning it onto the enemy’s back. That will win vast approval from our cheeseparing masters in Nicias.”

  “We also leave the camp, uh — ” and Petre broke off, involuntarily glancing at the inner part of the tent where Rasenna slept, since the next word was “followers.”

  But Tenedos had caught his meaning.

  “No women, no laundresses, no candy butchers, eh? How deeply would you make the cut?”

  “No one who isn’t a soldier moves with the army. Period. No sutlers, no servants either. The only purpose for the wagons are for heavy gear and ambulances. And sir, that would mean everybody. There’s no point in telling a sergeant he can’t throw a trunk in the company wagon if he sees the general with a brougham and mistress.”

  Tenedos smiled. “Captain, I can see you made your rank on merit, not diplomacy. But how much faster would this change let us move?”

  “We’re not through,” I said. “I want to put the infantry on horses, or mules anyway.”

  “Gods, that’d mean the biggest stableyard in history,” Tenedos said.

  “It’d be big, but not that big. One riding, one walking would be the way I’d set up these foot soldiers. Then, in time, let them all ride. Carry enough wheat to keep the animals from foundering on grass. Again, resupply off enemy granaries when we take them, not burn them to the ground as we do now. Let every mule have its own feedbag and saddlebags for provender.”

  “How would the men fight?” Tenedos asked, his interest now roused.

  “They’d ride to battle, and fight as they always do, on foot. That way we don’t have to take the time to train them to be cavalry,” I said. “No lances, no sabers, but spears, javelins, swords, daggers.”

  “Arm some of them with bows,” Petre put in. “We never have enough archers in a fight. Try to keep them out of hand-to-hand fighting. All it does is pin units and keep them from maneuvering. We’ll lose less men if we can keep them out of a melee.”

  “But we’re skirting the main point here, sir,” I said, gathering all my courage. “First, I think we should form the cavalry into one single striking arm.”

  “But it is already, or should be when generals use it properly.”

  “No it isn’t, sir,” I said. “Look at what you yourself ordered the other night: Damastes, use the Lancers as messengers. That’s the way it always is, sir. An officer sees a man on a horse and instantly finds a task for him, messengering, couriering, whatever, anything other than his true purpose, which is to strike hard when opportunity offers, then move quickly on to the next weak point. Messengers can’t do that, sir. We can’t even train to do it when we’re running dispatches from General Poop to Domina Crud. Sir.”

  “The other night was an emergency,” Tenedos said, frowning.

  “Sir,” I said earnestly, “it’s always an emergency. If you need messengers, train a staff of them. But keep your hands off the cavalry.”

  “Thank you, Domina,” he said, putting emphasis on my rank. “No, no. Don’t apologize. So what do I do with this cavalry, now that it’s one great whinnying mass of warriors?”

  “We strike for the enemy’s heart,” I said. “It’s like playing rõl. You get the ball, you cut around the forwards, and go straight for the goal. Ignore everything else. In order, we go after his army, his capital, his leaders. Cut through the lines as fast as we can, don’t worry about our flanks, and go for broke. Let the infantry take and hold the ground. Ignore their damned fortresses, unless we have to have them. Go around them. They’ll surrender after we’ve killed their king or burnt their capital.”

  I realized how vehement I’d gotten, hearing a sleepy query from Rasenna as to what was going on, and subsided. Tenedos sat for a long time, thinking. Neither of us dared move, for fear of disturbing him.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Very interesting. But what happens if the cavalry is cut off?”

  “Then it’s their mistake, their responsibility to break free, or hold out until the infantry can relieve them. If the unit moves fast enough, and doesn’t allow itself to be pinned down by superior forces, it should never happen.”

  “Is all of this down in that little book of yours?”

  “It is, sir. And there’s more,” Petre put in eagerly. “For instance — ”

  “Captain, please stop. A man or a sponge can only absorb so much at a time. If your handwriting is legible, would you object to leaving it with me? I’ll return it within a day or so, or perhaps have copies made.”

  “Gladly, sir, gladly.”

  “Now that you’ve mined my quiet meditation, and probably my brandy-drinking as well, you may depart.”

  We stood, saluted, and went out.

  “Camp followers indeed,” I heard Tenedos mutter.

  Petre looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. The seer was his own man, and impossible to read. All I knew was that, unlike other times I could think of, we’d not be punished for having our own thoughts.

  That, in itself, made the army very new and wonderful.

  • • •

  Tenedos called me to headquarters a day later.

  He waved over a short, stocky man who looked like he was better suited to be a hotel’s concierge than an officer. “This is Captain Othman,” he introduced. “I’ve chosen him as my new chief aide. He’s quite remarkable, you’ll find. He has an absolutely perfect memory, don’t you, Captain?”

  “I don’t know about that, but thank you, sir.” Othman looked uncomfortable.

  “That’s all, Captain. I intend to t
ake a short walk with the domina, and shall return in a few minutes.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  We walked out of the tent. I expected … no, hoped, Tenedos would bring up what was in our notebook, but he didn’t. Instead:

  “I’ve discovered how Chardin Sher was able to fool me with his spell.”

  “What is it? And, if I may ask, how did you discover it?”

  “I had the foresight to scoop up a bit of sand from the battleground, and I used that as the thinnest of aids to see if the Law of Contagion could help. It did, especially after I forced my mind to make full recollection of the few minutes I was able to spend with Chardin Sher, back in Nicias, then brought that memory into the present, and into reality with a spell.

  “I sought his magic both in this world and in others, and I was able to find enough traces to be quite sure of his method, or rather the method he ordered to be used.

  “The man is vastly more clever than I thought, and succeeded where I failed.”

  “He was able to convince many magicians to work together?”

  “Indeed. His own master magician, a man whose name I haven’t learned yet, assembled sorcerers, then sent them into trances, and while their individual wills were quiescent gave them instructions to work together. Since these orders didn’t interfere with any of their own desires, or not seriously, it performed nearly perfectly.”

  “So now you’ll be sending orders to Nicias, conscripting the Chare Brethren?” I shuddered. “I’d not wish to be the drill warrant ordered to teach them what foot to march off on.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Tenedos said. “But I do plan to send a secret message to Scopas suggesting that, and telling him to leak the idea. That should frighten those fat, lazy impostors into being cooperative with any favors I may need.

  “No, Damastes. That is their spell, and I know they must have built in countermeasures. I’ll use something different, something better, now that I know what their secret is.” He smiled, and his smile wasn’t pleasant. “Chardin Sher will have some surprises in the next few months.”

  But the next surprise was for the army — and for me.

  Once again, Tenedos ordered the top-ranking officers of the army to assemble. My orders also said I was to bring Captain Petre. I knew this would have to do with our proposal, and began to hope, for Tenedos was not the kind of man who’d summon an underling to butcher him in public. I had some real evidence our ideas might be implemented: Two days earlier, without any fanfare, Rasenna left the camp, and returned to Nicias, and other mistresses or wives of high-ranking officers had followed her. Now it would be interesting to see what came next and if we were to learn how to become an army instead of a costume ball.

  There were other officers there than just command-level. I was very surprised to see Legate Yonge, whom Tenedos had not mentioned in my orders. He grinned, half-waved, and then Tenedos came out of his tent.

  He began without preamble.

  “We are building a New Army, as you know. Well, my changes … our changes … will cut more deeply than originally outlined.

  “Two of my officers have made an interesting proposal, one that I intend to implement even further than they suggested.

  “There will be changes in tactics as well, but first we shall make organizational changes so our new way of combat may be possible.”

  He looked about the audience, and smiled, seeing the dominas and generals exchanging worried looks, terrified that this new amateur was about to shatter what little foundation the poor, battered Numantian Army had.

  “Don’t worry. The changes aren’t as great as you think, at least not on the surface.”

  He then went on to outline them. First he announced plans to mount as many infantry regiments as possible, and said he’d already sent orders to requisition every mule that could be found and send them south.

  Then he announced that the cavalry was to be organized into a separate branch of its own, much as if it were its own wing. This brought gasps of wonderment, but looks of sudden pleasure from cavalry officers who were tired of playing honor guard to their superiors. They would have a new mission, which was secret at present. But I knew what it was: When we went to battle next, we’d be striking directly for Chardin Sher.

  “There is one other type of unit I propose to create, or rather take an existing group of units and redefine their mission. I am creating a Scouting Wing, and in it I will be placing all existing light infantry units, and creating new ones. They shall be the army’s eyes and ears, replacing the cavalry, for whom I foresee a somewhat different mission, as I’ve said.

  “These new wings will require new commanders.

  “For the mounted infantry, I appoint Domina Myrus Le Balafre to general.

  “For the Scouting Wing, a man you may not be familiar with, a man who’s currently in a lesser rank than he should hold, more due to my inattention than anything else. I name Yonge to the rank of general.” Tenedos had the grace not to say just how low-ranking the Kaiti was. The hillman stood, transfixed, then yelped like a schoolboy and leaped straight up in the air.

  “A general,” he yelped. “Me, a general! Hey, Damastes! I beat you. I’m there first!”

  Some officers were looking scandalized, others laughed. I was one of the latter, and was about to call for a cheer for the hillman, when:

  “Finally, heading the Cavalry Wing … Domina, now General, Damastes á Cimabue!”

  The only person happier than I was Captain Mercia Petre. Tenedos named him the new domina for the Seventeenth Lancers.

  • • •

  The Time of Heat came to an end, and the Time of Rains began. We cursed and slipped, but the pace of our training never slackened.

  Tenedos had promised we’d fight before the Time of Storms, and we were determined to keep that vow.

  My most wonderful Damastes,

  I am writing this outside the Palace of the Rule of Ten, and have hired a courier to carry it by the fastest means possible, regardless of expense, to you.

  I am free.

  Not an hour ago, my annulment was granted by a special session of the Rule of Ten, at least a year before we thought the matter would be heard.

  I do not know why this happened, why we are so lucky, but will make sacrifice to all the gods I know because it did.

  Oh, my Damastes, now there is nothing that can come between us.

  When this war is over, we can be married.

  I am too happy, too excited to write more, but I am well, all is well, all is wonderful.

  Your loving Marán

  “My congratulations,” Tenedos said. “Thank you for sharing your happiness with me.”

  “Uh, it’s more than that, sir.”

  Tenedos lifted an eyebrow.

  “Sir, I request your permission to have my bride-to-be come here, and also wish your permission for marriage.”

  “That is very irregular, Damastes. We are supposed to be preparing for war.”

  “I realize that, sir. But I would be a traitor to myself if I didn’t ask.”

  “Ah. Yes, you would. I forget love can dictate louder than common sense. Well, now you’ve asked, so …” his voice trailed off.

  “I understand, sir.” I came to attention, and was about to salute and depart.

  Tenedos shook his head.

  “Wait. No, I don’t think you do. Nor did I, until I heard the echo of my own words.

  “Irregular such an event would be, I said, and I was right. But aren’t we building an irregular army?

  “Surely a cavalryman is expected to be full of vapors and impulses.

  “Why not?” Tenedos mused aloud. “It would certainly give the men something different to talk about. The idlers could complain about the privileges of rank, and the rest of us could envy you.

  “You have my approval, General. Send off a letter immediately. Wait. I have a better idea.”

  • • •

  The captain in charge of the heliograph
unit scowled at the message I’d handed him.

  “Impossible, General. I’m not supposed to send messages to any civilian. The seer-general’s own orders.”

  I handed him the next piece of paper.

  “Oh,” and his manner changed. “Sorry, sir. I should have known you’d have the seer-general’s permission. The weather’s clear, for a change, so we can send it this very minute.”

  Seconds later, the light began flashing from atop the tower, carrying its simple message north:

  Come at once. Bring your wedding gown.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  LOVE IN WAR

  I bowed deeply over the hand of the Countess Agramóme, who curtsied and whispered, “It is permitted for the bridegroom-to-be to kiss the bride.” I needed no further encouragement, and pulled her into my arms. Behind me, soldiers cheered and on the riverboat I heard laughter, but paid no heed to either.

  But my tongue barely moved between her lips before she pulled her head back.

  “As I recall saying once before, sir, you do take advantages,” she whispered.

  “You have no idea the liberties I plan to take,” I said.

  “Here? On the dock?”

  “Standing up with my boots on and a brass band playing. Gods, but I’ve missed you.”

  “And I you, my Damastes,” Marán said. “I cannot believe that we’ve been so fortunate, and that a great general such as yourself is willing to have a poor soiled woman from the country as your bride.” She laughed and gently removed herself from my arms. She was even more beautiful than I’d pictured her, even here, standing on a splintered wooden dock, wet from the first downpours of the Time of Rains. She wore a high-bodiced dark purple velvet dress that followed the lines of her body to midcalf. She wore laced boots and a teal green, shimmering jacket that matched her wide hat.

  “Now, if you’ll give me a hand with my baggage.”

  She needed more than a hand; she needed a working party, which I’d brought in the form of an escort — four men from each of the regiments I now commanded, plus a full column from the unit I’d always consider “mine,” the Ureyan Lancers, all in full-dress uniform. Thank my personal godling Tanis I’d remembered to bring a couple of freight wagons as well, although they were high-piled by the time the detail had finished and her two retainers sat on the sprung seats in front of Marán’s trunks.