“They no doubt believe that if this man can fight his way to me, he can use the weapon of the gods – for such it must be – to defeat me. We will play to this silly notion.” He settled his gaze upon Vulgur. “You still have perhaps a hundred thousand at your disposal?”
“Yes, master.”
“This is how you will proceed. You will divide your troops into four parts. Three parts will remain here, the other will go south in the spring. The army that goes south, you will divide yet again. Half of those you will quarter in Aniza, upon the borders of Vergon, in reserve. The remainder – and you will take great care to see that it is the finest unit of all my forces – you yourself will command. With it, you will find this man.” His deeply blue eyes narrowed. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Great Father – I will find him.”
“You must not defeat him.”
Vulgur’s flat black eyes broadened in surprise. “My father?”
“Do not defeat the man. Deceive him instead. To accomplish this, you must command your elite unit masterfully. He must be allowed to taste small victories that, over time, will grow larger, encouraging him to eventually make an assault upon this tower. He must come to me, Vulgur.”
The massive lasher was silent a long moment before answering. “I understand.”
“And Vulgur.”
“Master?”
“He must not die.”
“As you say, master.”
“Never threaten his life.”
“I promise I will not kill him.”
“More than that – you must protect his life, for he must live to give the sword into my hand.”
“He will not die by my hand or any hand that I command.”
The god’s eyes grew cold. “And we must begin to replace that which you have lost. It is much.”
Vulgur felt his bones tremble under that gaze. “Yes, master.”
“Elam will double its tribute of women.”
The great lasher hesitated. “I am told that they balk even now at that which we demand.”
The cold eyes grew icy. “Let them balk, my son, but you will be upon their borders with more than ten thousand of my best. And they possess no weapon of the gods to aid their cause. My patience with them is at an end. They will pay or they will bleed.”
“Yes, father.”
“Tell the Second to double the guard on the wagons, and to continue the transport into the winter. The weak may die in the colder months but those that live until this tower will be strongest.” Manon turned away but then hesitated. “Vulgur, my son.”
“Yes, master?”
“You are hungry?”
“Yes.”
“There is a dead woman below.”
“Thank you, Great Father.”
Manon left the chamber, turning left, toward the heights of the tower. After a moment, Vulgur followed him out through the opening but going right, toward the depths and the promised meal.
16
For three days after the wedding, Aram saw only Ka’en, avoiding contact with others, except Durlrang, who stayed nearby but was discreet. He felt almost as if a spell had been cast upon the world so that it held just the two of them. They seldom left the room, except for an occasional stroll up behind the house into the woods or, skirting the fields, to walk along the river in the evening. Distant menace never once came upon his mind, though he always took the sword with him, slung casually over his shoulder, except for one day when contentment dulled his attention to detail.
On this day, it was the sword, or rather its Guardians, that broke the reverie of calm, pleasant hours.
It was the morning of the fourth day after the wedding, and Aram and Ka’en had decided to pack a lunch and go across the valley to the south and up into the foothills beyond, a part of the valley that Aram had never explored. The sword was beneath the bed as always and as they prepared to leave, Aram, uncharacteristically, did not think of it.
He pulled the door shut behind him and stepped out onto the veranda, thinking of nothing but the sheer pleasantness of his existence and the delights of the day to come. Soft thunder sounded in his ear.
“You can not leave the sword alone, Aram, even here. You must take it with you always.”
He felt a momentary twinge of frustration, even anger, at the fracturing of the peace. The Guardians did not speak again, nor did they show themselves. He met Ka’en’s eyes for a moment – she had heard the voices, too – and then he sighed and inclined his head.
“Of course, my lords, you are right as always.”
The soft spell was broken even further, later in the day. They had rested and eaten beneath the shade of a stand of juniper. Afterward, Aram decided to make his way further into the southern hills along a narrow path that followed one of the streams that wound northward out of those hills as it flowed into the valley of Derosa. As they rounded a corner, they came to where the narrow valley broadened out and the stream flowed gently alongside a large field of leaf. Jonwood and three men were at work harvesting the leaf, spiking the large plants and stowing them on a wagon.
Jonwood looked up and then nodded his head to them respectfully. Aram returned the salutation and grasping Ka’en’s hand, led her away up the sloping hill to the right, angling around the hillside until they left the sight of the workmen. There were higher hills beyond; and ever anxious to see new country, Aram decided to climb up to where he could gaze upon the surrounding countryside, especially that which lay to the south of the valley of Derosa, lands unknown to him.
Upon reaching the summit of the nearest hill, the one immediately above Jonwood’s field of leaf, he found that another, higher hill rose beyond it, the top of which ran into the east and joined the top of another ridge, effectively closing off the valley containing the field and stream below. As it was a sizeable stream that flowed beside the field of leaf, he realized that it must arise from a spring below this intervening hill or ridge, something that was undoubtedly worth seeing, and the summit of the higher peak would afford better viewing of the country round about.
He grinned at Ka’en. “Have we walked too far, or can we go further?”
She smiled back. “I’m fine,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, we can always walk further – to the ends of the earth, if you like.”
His grin turned rueful. “Don’t tempt me.”
They approached the summit from the north and turning back, they could see almost the whole of the valley containing Derosa, with the town bunched up against the forested hills to the north, and the new constructions for the men from Stell lying off to the left of Arthrus’ shop. The peaks of the pine hills rose beyond, gaining height as they trailed away into the wilderness. To the northwest, they could just see the top of Aram’s black mountain, and the sight of it jarred him, reminding him in the midst of bliss of the darkness and danger that lay even further to the northwest, and of necessary, unfinished business.
He turned abruptly away from the sight of it and they continued on to the top of the hill. Here, he looked south. The foothills rose ever higher as they tumbled into the south but it was something else that immediately drew his eye. Far away beyond those hills, somewhat to the east of due south, one lone, high mountain rose up, its broken summit gleaming with snow, towering above everything near it.
He pointed. “What is that mountain?”
Ka’en gazed southward, shielding her fair skin from the sun with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Nor have I,” he answered, and he shook his head. “There’s so much of the world that I haven’t seen.”
She laughed outright. “You haven’t seen! What about me? That mountain is the farthest my eyes have looked – ever.”
He smiled down at her. “I promised you that would change, someday.” He said it gently, but with those few words, the spell of this interlude of peace was completely broken. Ka’en saw the alteration of his mood occur in the set of his features, even as he glanced quickly a
way in an attempt to hide it.
She sighed. “I know,” she said. “I’ve been wishing this moment away, every day, even as I knew that it would come.”
He looked back at her and saw the sadness in her eyes as if it were a reflection of that in his own. “Your love has altered me,” he said, “but the world remains as it was. There is unfinished business that is mine to finish. I have to meet with the men and lay plans for the winter, I have to see Joktan before winter comes, and I have to get a sense of how things are out in the world at present so that I’ll know what to do come spring.”
“You said that I could go with you to see Joktan.”
He smiled into her lovely eyes. “I’ll never leave you again except for war, I promise.”
A cloud crossed her face. “Don’t speak of war, today – that, at least, can wait.”
“Yes, for today it can wait,” he said, and took her hand. “Let’s go home.”
In Derosa, Aram reluctantly parted from Ka’en and made his way down to the room where Lancer conducted the business of the city. There were four men beside Lancer in the room, Donnick. Lestar, and two others he knew by face but not by name, talking casually about the harvest and the continuing nice weather. When Aram entered, their eyes widened in surprise and they stood, turning to face the new prince.
Aram was momentarily taken aback by this action, and by their attitude, but Lancer intervened, stepping forward. “How may I be of service, my lord?”
“Good day, sir,” Aram answered, and he turned to face the others. “And to you as well.”
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Lestar said, and Donnick and the other men inclined their heads.
Aram looked at Lancer. “I would like to meet with you, sir, and with various others.” He made a small motion with his hand. “Donnick and Lestar, of course, and Findaen and his companions, and Arthrus, Nikolus, and Timmon. I would like to meet outdoors – the weather’s good, and I want the horses and the wolves present as well, along with Alvern if I can find him.”
“Certainly, my lord,” Lancer returned. “When would you like this meeting to take place?”
Aram considered for a moment. “Tomorrow morning is soon enough, I suppose.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Aram nodded his thanks and turned to go, but then hesitated.
“Something further, my lord?” Lancer asked.
Aram studied the two men he didn’t know for a moment and thought that they appeared solid enough to be privy to his thoughts, very much like Donnick and Lestar. He looked at Lancer.
“I would that you would tell me about money.”
“Money?”
“Yes. I know there is but limited need for it in Derosa, now, but there is use for it out in the world. There will undoubtedly be more demand for it as we begin to make contact with new lands – something I hope to do over the winter. We may discover resources which will serve our needs, and I can’t continue to pay for everything with monarchs. For the moment, they are the only currency I possess.” He paused for a moment before enunciating a dream that he’d only recently begun to nurture. “Also, I expect to see a time when trade will resume between Derosa and Stell, and commerce will flourish among our businesses here – and at Durck, too, of course. Does not money encourage such activity?”
Lancer smiled slightly as he nodded with understanding. “It does indeed, my lord. And I must say – this expectation of yours is a wise thing.” The elders looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and fledgling hope, for such words as these, with a vision of an expanding future rather than a diminishing one, had not been uttered in Derosa in their lifetimes. But if this new prince, a man known for his strength and power, believed that it could be so, then such a future was worthy of an investment of hope.
Lancer went to the high desk at the front of the room and returned with a small leather sack, the contents of which he spilled onto the table. Out of the bag, there came forth coins of several sizes and two distinct colors, bronze and gray. There were variations of color in the bronze and gray coins, and Aram could tell that this was the result of weathering and wear – of age.
Lancer separated the coins into two groups. “These,” he said, indicating the mound of bronze-colored coins, one of which was actually quite shiny, while some others were tinged with green, “are copper. They are, in general, the least valuable, used to make small purchases – a loaf of bread, for instance.” His finger moved on to the grayish coins. “These are silver – more valuable.” He smiled ruefully. “Newer coins look better than these – I’ve seen new silver coins a time or two and they are bright indeed. But these have been around for a while and are badly tarnished.”
Aram studied the piles of metal discs. “Copper and silver.” He looked up. “Where do we acquire these coins?”
Lancer’s eyes widened in surprise. “I know of no place to acquire minted coin now, my lord. Though I suppose they are readily available in the great lands to the west – Elam and others.”
“What about the metals? Perhaps we could make our own coins?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Lancer’s face fell. “I can’t answer that. These coins came out of Stell, long ago. We’ve had only a limited use for money since the fall of that city. As we have none of these metals, except for what you see here, and we lack knowledge of such arts, we couldn’t mint any new coinage, anyway.” He thought for a moment, gazing down at the small piles of money. “I suppose that there might be either or perhaps both of these metals in the hills round about, but I wouldn’t know how to find them. Our people were ever farmers and merchants, never miners.”
“Would Arthrus know?”
Lancer nodded. “He might at that. He is the only one of us with a fairly consistent use of money, for his trips to Durck. The purchases he makes for us in that town are the main cause of the depletion of our monetary resources.” His features brightened. “In fact, the merchants in that town might know better than anyone about reducing monarchs to simpler denominations of money. Arthrus might know the answer to that as well.”
Aram returned the nod. “I’ll ask him at the morning meeting. Thank you, sir.” Acknowledging the others as well, he stepped out and returned to Ka’en.
That evening, they went down through the town and out onto the plains, where Thaniel saw them immediately and came pounding toward them, his enormous hooves tearing up chunks from the grassy plains.
As he slid to a stop, the great horse blew a blast from his nostrils. “So, Lord Aram, you remembered that I live and walk the earth.”
Aram laughed and saluted his friend. “I was married but four days ago, you know. I believe that you were present at that event. I’ve had other, more pleasant things on my mind since.”
Thaniel returned the laugh. “I’ve seen this malady afflict stallions many times. I am glad to see that you have at least partially recovered.”
At that moment, the bawdiness of his words, and the presence of Ka’en, seemed to converge in the horse’s brain. He blinked his large eyes, and moved a step backward.
“Forgive me, mistress. I meant no offense.”
In response, Ka’en stepped forward and reaching up, flung her arms around his neck. “There is no offense, Thaniel. You are my husband’s brother, and now, therefore, you are mine as well.”
She laid her head against the massive neck for a moment and Thaniel looked at Aram and blinked again, but this time the reflexive action was caused by a much different emotion.
Aram smiled. “We’d like to ride, Thaniel, and enjoy the evening. Is Huram about?”
Ka’en stepped back and the horse swung his head around and looked toward the curve of the river. “Huram is there – I’ll retrieve him.”
When the horses returned, Aram helped Ka’en up onto the back of the big gray horse and with Durlrang padding alongside; they rode west as the sun slipped down the sky. Aram informed Thaniel of the morrow’s meeting and of those that he wished to be present. He called to Alvern, but n
o answer came out of the evening sky. He looked down at Durlrang.
“You told me once that night means nothing to a wolf and that your people seldom tire.”
“It is ever true, master,” the wolf answered.
“Will you send Leorg and Shingka northward tonight, into my valley, and see if they can contact Lord Alvern, informing him of my need, and return before the morning?”
Durlrang swerved aside. “At once.”
“I want you all back by morning, Durlrang.” Aram called after him.
“We’ll be here at dawn, master.”
The following morning dawned clear and crisp. Lancer had set up a large table on the training grounds southwest of town. Aram was glad to see, as he and Ka’en arrived, that Alvern the eagle was perched at the end of the table, cleaning his feathers. Aram went to him.
“Hello, my old friend.”
Alvern looked up with his golden eyes. Aram heard his soft laugh, ringing into his mind. “Hello, my young friend,” the eagle answered.
“How have your days been, my lord?”
Alvern glanced at Ka’en, and he inclined his head to her. “Less eventful than yours, I think,” he answered.
As Aram smiled in reply, the eagle studied him with perceptive eyes. “We will be busy again now, I suppose?”
Aram’s smile faded away and he sighed. “Yes, we will be busy now.”
When everyone had gathered, Aram told them of his intention to go north and meet with Joktan. There was no need to explain this anomalous statement, for by now almost everyone in Derosa knew of his unusual relationship with the spirit of his ancestor. He spoke in a firm voice, hoping as always that the ancient king was about and would hear this desire. Then he enquired of Wamlak as to what the mounted patrols had seen to the west. Afterward, the wolves gave their report concerning the state of things along the northwestern borders. Satisfied that everything for the moment was quiet, Aram turned to Findaen, on his right.
“We need women,” he said bluntly.
Findaen’s eyebrows slid up his forehead. “My lord?”
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 12
