The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2)

by Joseph Schembrie

  She chewed and swallowed from a third platter of ribs and said, “The Emperor has dispatched me to re-initiate the campaign to subjugate Britan. Unfortunately, due to civil disturbances, communications between here and Rome have been inconsistent in recent weeks. The Emperor will require a full report. Sit, General, and please finish fastening your belt. It is distracting.”

  Bivera plopped into the chair. “So then, you will be taking the report back with you?”

  “Oh no, I'm going to be here a while. I've been assigned to help you.”

  His expression betrayed a trace of dismay. “Well, I – I suppose we can send the report by ship.”

  “That will take too long. You will have the message transmitted by the Londa signal tower.”

  “But the tower is for inland communication, to the west and north. There is no seaward series of towers to convey the message to Rome.”

  “That is not relevant. However, you must transmit at these times and dates.” She handed him a sheaf of papers from her pouch. “You will use the once-only cipher provided there. Oh, and very important. The signal must be oriented skyward at times when there are no intervening clouds to the south.”

  “Skyward. I . . . see.”

  You think you see, Inoldia thought. But even she did not understand how the Mother had an all-seeing eye above the world, higher than any Sister of Wisdom had ever flown.

  “Very good, General. And now, I would like a briefing as well.” She produced a letter with Valarion's seal. “This is from the Emperor's hand, authorizing you to inform me of all secret and privileged information, and to accept my instructions as his vicar.”

  And so she was briefed. The situation in Britan, Bivera said in his soft monotone, was dire. With the disruption of imperial logistics, supplies were low and patrols had been curtailed. The upside was that the Britanians were still scattered from the abortive Queen's Rebellion. “Yet if they were to combine and march on Londa, nothing would stop them before they reach the walls.”

  Bivera was obsessed with the walls of Londa, Matlid/Inoldia recalled from their past meetings, but the security of Londa was only a stepping stone in the eyes of the Mother. Inoldia needed to ask about the Box. For that she had been given special dispensation, but first she wanted to find out what the Roman baselines knew already.

  “Do you have spies in the west?” Inoldia asked. “The activities there are what concern us most.”

  “The latest news is that airship berthed near Fish Lake barely escaped a fire – “

  “I know of that. Go on.”

  “The ship has since vanished, but we have reports of sightings over the northwestern quadrant of the isle. For unknown reason, it went there for a while, came south again and headed to sea. We have learned that the individuals known as 'The Wizard' and 'The Carrot' have disappeared from the rebel base, and rumor has it that they are in search of something called 'The Box.'”

  Matlid stopped eating. The Mother would not be pleased to know that the mutant had betrayed the confidentiality of their kind, and that the existence of another Mother was well known to the baselines of Britan. But how much did they know?

  “Tell me, General. What do you know that is special about this thing called 'The Box?'”

  “I hope you will not scoff, Lady Inoldia, but I firmly believe that they are sincerely in quest of the legendary 'Box That Everything Came In.'”

  “How interesting,” Inoldia said. “Say that they are. Tell me what you know of that legend.”

  “Perhaps not as much as I should. No one in Rome but the most credulous takes it seriously. As a lad growing up in the provinces with no access to a literary education, I seldom heard mention of it until adulthood.”

  The Sisters of Wisdom were the reason that objective knowledge of the existence of the seeder probes of the Starseed Project had been suppressed within the Imperium – treated first as a myth and then dismissed entirely. The Mother had then commissioned the Murals of Creation, which deliberately portrayed historical events surrealistically, so that no rational-minded Roman would give them the slightest credence.

  Although the Mother's action seemed contradictory to lesser minds, it was the Mother's Way to never spread just one lie when there was opportunity for a few more. As long as her potential adversaries were preoccupied with choosing which lie to believe, bouncing like a ball between rackets in that insipid game that degenerate patricians played, they would never come upon the truth.

  So it was especially true for the existence of the Box. But there, this time, was the dispensation . . . .

  Apparently nervous from her silence, Bivera elaborated, “Of course, I am skeptical about the existence of such a magical device. On the other hand, I accept certain magics as real, as anyone who has lived in Rome and Britan must.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, for example, you.”

  “What about me?”

  “Well, you are able to change form and even fly. That is magic, is it not? So you are testament that magic is in the world. Or, at least, so I have been told, a kind of science so advanced that it may as well be regarded as magic. ”

  She nodded slowly. Inoldia had been deceived by Bivera's peasant-stock appearance into thinking that the general was dull, for that was the opinion of the Roman patrician class toward the peasantry. Matlid, who had no respect for patrician prejudices, had seen plainly that if a man could climb from peasant to general, he was likely to possess extraordinary qualities of intellect.

  In that the women shared minds, Inoldia saw how Matlid's insight had changed how they must treat Bivera if they were to use him effectively.

  “General, I must swear you to secrecy upon your life. I have been given special dispensation to tell you a great secret, yet even so, surely we would both die if my words spread beyond this room.”

  Bivera hesitantly bowed. “I understand.”

  “Do you? Then dismiss the bodyguard you have hidden in the compartment behind that wall.”

  Mortified at first, Bivera did so, then shuffled back, head low.

  “You may speak now in confidentiality, Lady Inoldia.”

  “Well, it is quite simple. It is this. There is such a thing as the Box, it physically exists as described in myth, and it is very important that we have it.”

  “Not that I doubt your word, but how can it be that the Box really is the source of all creation?“

  “General, I am not here to initiate you into the Mysteries of the Sisters. Suffice, there is such a thing as the Box, and it is very important that we have it. Likewise, we cannot allow the enemies of the Sisters and of Rome to have it. You must find the Box as soon as possible, at all costs. If it is said to be in the far west, to the far west you must go.”

  “I regret that the resources that I have on hand may not be enough for the task, my lady.”

  “How so?”

  “The Leaf has amassed a considerable force at their western base. We've tried sending a cohort through the Dark Forest, and it was severely repulsed by ambush. To break through would take nothing short of a legion, but my legions are needed to suppress uprising in the East. Also, because of the recent difficulties in Rome, I have not received adequate logistics. I can barely feed my men while they are stationed in their barracks, and support in the field is beyond our ability at present.”

  “I see. The situation has deteriorated below expectations. Well, General, you mentioned spies in the west. At least you can spare your spies, can you not?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  The part of Inoldia that the Mother had imprinted upon was pleased. It was as she had foreseen.

  “Well, then. It is your spies that are to be utilized. How good are they as soldiers?”

  “Roman spies who are assigned for reconnaissance duty beyond the frontier are among the best-trained soldiers in the legions.”

  “And how many do you have in the west?”

  “Three, my lady.”

  “That will have to do.
You will inform them as soon as possible to go in quest of the Box.”

  “I'll send the message by courier bird. It will be there by the morrow. But My Lady, may I ask? How are they to seek the Box?”

  “General, haven't you answered that yourself? The boy and the girl – the 'Wizard' and 'Carrot' as you call them – took the airship to the north.”

  “Only for a brief time.”

  “Long enough to drop off a search team.”

  “Why, yes. So you want our spies to seek for the search team.”

  “You are following my reasoning quite well, General. Find the search team, and they will point us on the path to the Box.”

  “I am still puzzled, My Lady. How will we find the search team among the thousands of other Britanians who dwell in the northwest?”

  “That should be breathtakingly simple, General. First of all, they will be travelers, not dwellers. You need only watch the roads and inns, not pilfer through the villages. Secondly, the team will be easy to identify, for it will be led by the mutant girl. Find a group of travelers led by a young woman – and how rare is that?”

  “You mean by 'mutant girl,' the Carrot. Not the Wizard also? My informants report that the two often are together.”

  “The boy is aboard the airship on a journey to the other side of the world.”

  “Do you know this for certain?”

  “Have the Sisters ever given you reason to doubt the infallibility of our plans?”

  “Well . . . Boudica.”

  Inoldia gave a sharp look.

  Bivera continued: “Lady Inoldia, I beg your indulgence, as I foresee difficulties.”

  “What are they?”

  “The northwest of Britan is largely unknown to us, even in this day. There is a great wall of foliage, denser than any forest and animated like a beast, that seals off the north – “

  “The Sisters know of the Hedge.” After all, it had been planted by the Elder Wizard to keep them out. That was before the Elder Wizard had learned that they could fly.

  “The . . . Hedge . . . is impervious to fire and sword. Years ago, one of our soldiers died when he ventured too close – “

  “Surely your spies whom you say are your best soldiers can find a way through a few meters of plant.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose – but there are myths that say giants live beyond it.”

  Inoldia wondered if she had mistaken credulity for insight. Perhaps the Peasant wasn't so far from the General after all.

  “And you believe those myths?”

  “I'm just saying.”

  “Well, General, if the girl is able to handle giants, then so should your spies.”

  “About the girl. What are my spies to do with her if they should find her?”

  To allow the girl to obtain the Pandora of Britan was unthinkable. Inoldia decreed: “Kill her.”

  “Wouldn't it make more sense to follow her, interrogate her – “

  “You may interrogate her fellow travelers, but she must die as soon as your men come upon her. The Emperor has decreed that the girl is too dangerous to live.”

  Actually, it was the Mother's decree, but Bivera wasn't privileged yet to know of the Mother.

  “My lady, I beg patience . . . but it is my understanding that the Carrot is a witch, and employs her witchcraft to invoke inhuman powers. Over the past two years, we have received reports of a girl with orange hair, who fights with the Leaf, who cannot be defeated in combat. The connection with the Carrot, whose name derives from her orange hair, is obvious. My spies, as well-trained and experienced as they are, may not be enough to subdue her, whereas you . . . you could do the job by yourself, could you not?“

  “General, I have engaged the girl in personal combat thrice and defeated her thrice. She is not the invincible creature that legend has made her to be. Your three men should be adequate.”

  “Still . . . her witchcraft . . . what if she casts a spell on them?“

  “Think of this gift as a counter-spell.” Inoldia placed on the table a corked vial, so tiny that it seemed almost a trinket. “Your courier bird can carry this along with your message to your spies. Have them see that she drinks it.”

  “How will they be able to do that?”

  “General, I honestly do not know. Is there not a skill called subterfuge, in which spies are said to be deft? Perhaps they will have an idea on how to deceive the girl into drinking it.”

  Bivera gingerly plucked the vial and examined it against the lantern. “I was informed that she is immune to poison.”

  “Admittedly, she does have some resistance. The potion in that vial will not kill her. Even a single droplet will, however, diminish her strength to that of a baseline – that is, a mortal human – for a few minutes. By which time, I would imagine, three trained soldiers should be able to execute one common girl.”

  “My lady, again please excuse me, but if the task is so urgent, wouldn't it be best if you do it? You can fly there faster than men can ride. You can fly over the reputed great hedge, it means nothing to you. The giants who live in the northwestern lands are said to be most inhospitable. And as you say, you've fought the girl and defeated her, while – “

  “General, I don't have time to scour the far reaches of Britan, nor do I have time to listen to hearsay about 'giants.' Have your spies cause the girl to drink the vial, and she will be no match for even one of them. There are no more real problems here that we have not addressed.”

  “It's . . . it's just that . . . . “

  The part of her that was Inoldia saw a man fidgeting. The part that was Matlid sensed his despair and knew the cause. Bivera's real objection, she realized, was that he did not want to give the order to assassinate a young girl.

  How peculiar the Roman code of honor! Female slaves could be raped with impunity, female non-citizens could be starved to death in siege, female citizens were subjugated to the whim of fathers and husbands and denied posts of authority, and the code even allowed women to be killed in combat. But to assassinate a woman – Oh no, it would be unmanly!

  As contradictory as the code was, she could see that Bivera was genuinely distressed.

  “General,” Matlid said softly. “The directive comes from the Emperor. Let's not disappoint him.”

  Bivera bowed deeply. “I understand, Lady Inoldia. I will have done as you say.”

  Inoldia pushed away her plate and wiped her face with her napkin, waiting a suitable pause for the General to realize that the subject had changed.

  “Now, onto the matter of my assignment, the reason that I will remain in Londa for a time. It is opportune that you mentioned the Leaf, for the Leaf is the main obstacle to the conquest of Britan and effort must be made to neutralize the Leaf as much as possible before legions arrive.”

  “'Neutralize?'”

  “We intend to infiltrate the organization, and co-opt the leadership.”

  “We have tried that already, my lady, but we have been in dearth since the . . . time of difficulties . . . and we have been unable to pay our informants. Meanwhile, the Leaf has been awash in funding, and more than a few of our officers have been turned with bribes. Thus it is that we no longer infiltrate the Leaf, but that they infiltrate us.”

  Even Matlid's temper was beginning to fray at the human incompetence. Nonetheless, she calmly responded, “Surely, General, there is someone who has contact with the Leaf, who can help us infiltrate.”

  Bivera gazed blankly at the pattern of the new rug. After a long pause, he replied, “We have prisoners who have cooperated with their interrogators. Some claim to know about the Leaf.” At her nod, he unlocked a cabinet and brought file folders. “I can read to you if you'd like.”

  “I'll read myself, thank you.”

  His eyebrows might have spoken aloud: You can read? He was right that Inoldia couldn't. It was the persona of Matlid who paged through the folders, and then related the information to the persona of Inoldia.

  Most of the interrogation summari
es were of limited interest. Names of persons who might be members of the Leaf. Names of sympathizers to the Leaf – which seemed to be half the population. Nothing struck her as useful.

  Then she came to a folder marked 'Faron.' The prisoner was described as the leader of a gang of brigands who operated in the north, in the region known as Umbrick. Inoldia knew the place name well, for it was the home of the mutant girl. A minor coincidence, she thought as first impression.

  Then she read on in disbelief.

  “General, it says that Faron appeared a little over two years ago, around the time that the villages of Umbrick were destroyed in the suppression of an insurrection. Do you recall what happened to the chieftain of the village of North Umbrick?”

  “I do vividly, for he was the leader of the local uprising. I recall his name was Letos.”

  Yes, Inoldia thought.

  Bivera continued: “King Letos – every village chief calls himself a king up there. Yes, I recall that he was captured soon after the failure of the uprising. Standard legion procedure was implemented.”

  “Which is?”

  “Routine beheading and ceremonial parading of body and head on carts through the surviving villages as public testament to the futility of rebellion against the authority of the Imperium.”

  “How sure are you that it was Letos who was captured and executed?”

  Bivera went to another cabinet, perused a single file. “According to our records, he was betrayed by several associates, who brought him bound to us. They were very positive in their identification and so I have absolute confidence that the man was in fact Letos.”

  Matlid appreciated that while Bivera was no clod, his idealism prevented him from comprehending that an innocent person might be falsely accused and presented by opportunists wishing to claim a bounty. Having survived as an orphan on provincial streets, she knew that the more certain a government official was that justice had been done, the more likely it had been done perversely.

  “The associates who brought him in, they were paid?”

  “Yes, the standard payment for information leading to arrest and capture. Did you want to see the receipt?”