Relics of War

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Are you sure you remember it?” Azlia asked.

  “Oh, yes. I did it dozens of times during the war.”

  Garander did not find that as reassuring as Ellador apparently intended it to be, but he did not say anything about that. “Can you meet me tonight, after dark?” he asked. “I’ll take you to the shatra, and you can enchant him.”

  “Well, I can try,” Ellador said. “I told you, I can’t be sure it will work on a shatra.”

  “We’ll see,” Garander said. “Shall we meet here?”

  “All right. After dark.”

  “And if anyone asks what we were discussing here,” Azlia interjected, “Ellador and I have been trading spells, and we were talking to you about buying ingredients for them—herbs and feathers and bones.”

  “Oh,” Garander said. “That’s a good idea.” He looked to the west; the sun was touching the treetops of the windbreak around Felder’s dooryard. “We should go; Tesk will be coming to talk to the nobles soon.”

  “Indeed,” Ellador said. “Does he know what you’re planning?”

  “Not exactly,” Garander admitted. “But I’ll tell him.” Then he turned and hurried back toward the meeting point in the west field.

  He found Velnira waiting, and a glance back over his shoulder showed him Lady Shasha approaching, as well. He wondered whether she had been able to contact Lord Edaran with one of her wizards not present; perhaps that was something Zendalir could handle by himself, or perhaps one of the other magicians knew some sort of communication magic.

  “Well?” Velnira demanded, as Garander ambled up to her. “Where is the shatra?”

  “How should I know?” Garander asked, startled. “I’m his friend, not his keeper.”

  Velnira did not look satisfied by this, but had no immediate answer. She simply glared at the farmer’s son.

  Annoyed by this, Garander asked, “Where is Lord Dakkar?”

  “In his tent,” Velnira replied. “I am to speak for him.”

  Garander could not say why, but that made him slightly uneasy. Wouldn’t the baron want to bask in his success, if he made Tesk a winning offer?

  But maybe he knew his best offer was not good enough, and did not want to see it rejected. Garander grimaced, and turned to watch Lady Shasha march up, accompanied by Zendalir and a plump woman Garander did not recognize but assumed to be another magician of some sort.

  The aristocrat curtsied to Velnira and Garander, then ostentatiously scanned her surroundings, making a silent point of Tesk’s absence.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Garander said.

  “Of course,” Lady Shasha said, with a significant glance to the west. The sun was below the horizon now, and the clouds above were outlined in brilliant orange.

  Garander looked around, to see whether the shatra was visible. He did not see Tesk, but he saw that his father and sisters had emerged from the house and were watching. His mother was not in sight.

  And then he did see Tesk, emerging from the shadows between his father and the barn. The shatra paused and said something to Grondar, startling him; he paused to ruffle Ishta’s hair, then strode on toward the waiting emissaries.

  Garander glanced at the two women, gauging their reactions. Lady Shasha seemed imperturbable as ever, but Velnira looked distinctly nervous, and Garander’s suspicion that Lord Dakkar’s offer was embarrassingly inadequate grew stronger.

  The threesome waited silently as the shatra approached.

  Tesk stopped a few feet away and said, “I have come, as I agreed I would.” Then he looked directly at Garander and asked, “Why are you here, instead of safe with your family?”

  Startled, Garander realized he did not have a good answer ready; the truth was that it had never occurred to him not to be there. He had simply taken it for granted that he should be present for any negotiations.

  Tesk was waiting for an answer, and at last Garander said, “I’m here to represent my family. After all, this is our land. And I thought you might want a friend present.”

  “I certainly have no objection to his presence,” Lady Shasha said. “While I hope that someday you might call me your friend, I know that as yet the term does not apply, and I welcome the young man in that capacity.”

  “I don’t care whether he’s here or not,” Velnira said. “Let’s get on with it.”

  That did not sound good, Garander thought. Such gracelessness was worrisome.

  “Shall I begin, then?” Lady Shasha asked.

  “Go ahead,” Velnira said, with a wave of her hand.

  “Excellent!” The Ethsharite smiled. “Tesk, Lord Edaran regrets that you cannot enjoy the comforts of his city, and apologizes for any discomfort his ignorance of your limitations may have caused. He would still very much appreciate your services as an advisor in matters magical and military, and access to your devices and your own body, so that his own magicians might study and learn from them. In exchange, he offers to provide you with transportation anywhere you might wish to go, by any means within his power—the flying carpet that brought me, for example, can be placed at your disposal. Perhaps you would like to visit the ruins of your homeland, to see if there is anything to be salvaged there, or if there are any rites or ceremonies for the dead to be performed. Furthermore, given that you have said you seek companionship, he would be happy to send visitors to see you, at whatever intervals and for whatever duration might best suit you, and these visitors shall be of your choosing. If you would like the company of singers, perhaps, or dancers, or storytellers, that can be arranged. Should you be interested in educating yourself in the ways of our people, he would be happy to send teachers—historians, perhaps, or scholars of one sort or another. If there is something you would like to teach us, in addition to your magic, that would be appreciated—your native tongue, perhaps, or the history and culture of the Northern Empire as seen from within. We know so little of your people! If you do not wish to see your own language lost to the world, we have students eager to learn it.”

  As she paused for breath, Garander marveled at the cleverness of this offer. Helping the memory of his people survive might indeed appeal to Tesk, but Garander was sure that the Ethsharites were more interested in knowing Shaslan so they could read surviving Northern documents—especially magicians’ records of their magic.

  “That is everything we have thought to offer,” Lady Shasha continued, “but if there is anything else you desire, we will consider whether we can reasonably provide it. Exotic foodstuffs, perhaps—Lord Azrad’s Ethshar is becoming famous for its spice trade, and the small kingdoms that now rule Old Ethshar have developed some interesting cuisine. Fine clothing, if your nature allows it and you take any interest in your appearance. Whatever the wealth of Ethshar of the Sands can comfortably provide can be yours. There must be limitations, of course; you cannot ask us to put any innocents to death, or to perform any extravagant acts of destruction, but Lord Edaran is ready to be extremely generous, and to accommodate your nature as best he can. I await your decision.”

  Having concluded her speech, she curtsied again, and took a single step back.

  Tesk regarded her for a moment, then said, “That is a better offer than I expected.” He turned to Velnira.

  She threw an angry glance at Lady Shasha, then cleared her throat.

  “Lord Dakkar, Baron of Varag, has given due consideration to your earlier statements of why you are not interested in the offer he made earlier, and has concluded that there is no rational way to pay you for your services with anything but your life. Furthermore, since you are a Northern abomination trespassing on the baron’s lands, and since no formal peace was ever made with the Northern Empire, the proper thing to do would be to kill you. However, Lord Dakkar is a merciful man, and a practical one. If you agree to assist his magicians in studying your magic, and his soldiers in learning the arts of combat, he will allow you to live. If you do not agree, he will have you hunted down and slain, whether here in these woods, or in the
wastelands where the Empire once ruled, or in the streets of Ethshar.”

  Garander stood silently listening to this, at first in disbelief, and then in anger. No wonder the baron had not wanted to deliver his ultimatum in person! Tesk might have killed him on the spot. In fact, in Tesk’s position Garander thought he might go ahead and kill Lord Dakkar anyway, even if it meant fighting his way through a few guards, in hopes his successor would be more reasonable.

  “Not a very generous offer,” Lady Shasha said quietly.

  “It is not an offer at all,” Tesk said. “It is a threat. But I do not know whether he can carry out his threat.”

  “Maybe you can accept both offers,” Garander suggested.

  Both women started to speak at once; then they stopped, looking at one another. Lady Shasha made a gesture indicating Velnira should go ahead.

  “Lord Dakkar won’t allow that,” the chamberlain said.

  “Regrettably, neither will Lord Edaran,” Lady Shasha said. “His agreement with you must be exclusive.”

  “I see,” Tesk said. He thought for a moment, then said, “Perhaps you will each ask your master to reconsider. If I could accept both offers it might make this easier.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “I will think about this. You will know my decision in the morning.”

  Lady Shasha curtsied again, but Velnira demanded, “What is there to decide?”

  Tesk looked at her and said, “Whether I live or die.” He turned away. “Garander, walk with me. I wish to say goodbye to your family.”

  “Of course,” Garander said. The shatra had not waited for his answer, but was already walking swiftly toward the house; Garander hurried to catch up.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You have a plan,” Tesk said as they walked. “What is it?”

  “I was originally going to say we wanted both sides to think you were dead,” Garander replied, “but now I wonder whether you should maybe accept Lord Edaran’s offer, and we would only need to convince Lord Dakkar you’re dead.”

  Tesk shook his head. “Lord Dakkar would find out. Lord Edaran’s people could not keep their visits to me secret.”

  “Probably not,” Garander admitted. “All right, both sides. Separately, so they won’t fight over the body. I’ll go to each of them and say I found you dead in the woods. I’ll tell the baron’s people that you killed yourself rather than give in to his threats, and I’ll tell the Ethsharites that the baron decided not to wait and went ahead and killed you. Then I’ll bring them into the forest and show them your body—there’s a magic spell called the Sanguinary Deception that will make it look like you’re very definitely dead, so obviously dead that they won’t bother to make sure. And with each of them, you’ll have a bunch of weapons and talismans and equipment that they can steal to study, so they won’t think they’re leaving anything for the other side.”

  “Hm,” Tesk said. “Blaming my death on the baron may not be clever.”

  “Maybe not,” Garander admitted. “So suicide there, too, then.”

  “Or perhaps you could blame my demon half,” Tesk suggested. “Say that it killed me rather than allow me to surrender. Which it might in fact do.”

  “Oh!” Garander said. “Of course.”

  “This spell—how does it make me look so obviously dead that they will not cut my head off to be sure?”

  “I don’t know,” Garander admitted. “But if they try, you’re fast enough to dodge, aren’t you?”

  “That would ruin the deception.”

  “I know. Then we’d have to try something else.”

  “I see. Do you have another plan to try, if that happens?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I see.” Tesk considered that for a moment, then asked, “Will you be casting the spell?”

  “No, one of the wizards agreed to do it.”

  “Then this wizard will know I am still alive.”

  “Yes,” Garander admitted. “I couldn’t see any way to avoid that. And it’s actually two wizards—the first one I asked didn’t know the spell we need.”

  “Can we trust these wizards to remain silent?”

  “I think so,” Garander said. “They don’t want a war. And I’ve always heard that wizards are good at keeping secrets—they keep the workings of their spells secret, after all.”

  Tesk nodded.

  “Then you’ll do it?”

  “I have no better plan. I will try it.”

  “I’ll bring the wizard to the woods once it’s full dark.”

  “I will meet you.”

  “Once the spell is cast, you’ll need to get those tools and talismans—enough so that each side will think they have all of them.”

  Tesk asked, “Will this deception spell interfere with bringing the supplies?”

  “I don’t think so. But we’ll ask the wizard. If he isn’t sure, maybe we can wait and cast the spell in the morning.”

  Tesk nodded again. “Bring the wizard,” he said. He added, “Do not follow me,” and then sped up, changing direction and heading toward the forest to the northwest.

  Garander could not have followed at such a pace in any case; he stopped, and saw that he had walked past his own front door without realizing it while they spoke. Tesk had said he wanted to say goodbye to the family, but apparently he had changed his mind, or been so distracted by the discussion of Garander’s plan that he forgot.

  Garander turned back and headed inside. He found his family waiting for him. “What’s happening?” Ishta demanded, before anyone else could say a word.

  “The Ethsharites made an offer,” Garander said. “A good one—they said they would send visitors, teachers and students, to keep him company, and teach him about Ethshar, and learn about his magic and the Northern Empire.”

  “And the baron?” his father asked.

  “He made a threat. He said he would have Tesk killed if he didn’t cooperate, or if he agreed to work for the Ethsharites.”

  “Won’t the Ethsharites protect him?” Shella the Younger asked.

  “I’m sure they’ll try,” Garander said. “If he agrees to their terms, anyway.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Ishta asked.

  “He doesn’t trust them,” Garander said. “And he doesn’t really want anyone learning about his magic.”

  “Then what’s he going to do?”

  Garander hesitated. He did not want to lie to his family, but he did not trust Ishta to keep a secret, not even when it might save Tesk’s life.

  But on the other hand, she had managed to keep quiet about Tesk’s very existence for months.

  Their father had not, though. Garander threw a quick glance at Grondar, then turned back to Ishta. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think he’s decided yet.”

  Grondar gave him a look Garander could not interpret, then called, “Shouldn’t you be getting our supper, Shella?”

  Garander’s mother started. “Oh, yes!” she said. She grabbed her elder daughter’s arm and hustled toward the kitchen.

  “Ishta, help your mother,” Grondar ordered.

  “But I…”

  “Go! It will keep you busy and take your mind off your shatra friend.”

  Reluctantly, Ishta obeyed.

  “Garander and I will get on with the chores,” Grondar called after the women. “Just because we have wizards and aristocrats all over the place doesn’t mean the pigs will feed themselves.”

  Garander was in no mood to tend to the livestock, but he knew his father had a point. He walked back out the door he had just entered, and started toward the barn.

  His father caught his arm. “You have an idea of some sort, don’t you?” Grondar asked. “I saw you slip away earlier.”

  “I…” Garander hesitated.

  Grondar held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I can’t give away secrets I don’t know. You can tell me all about it later, when it’s all over.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Garander said.

  “Is there anyth
ing else you need to do?”

  Garander glanced in the direction of the flying carpet. “Actually…”

  Grondar gave him a shove. “Go do it. Don’t tell me anything. And if you can get back in time for your supper, good, but if you can’t, I’ll tell your mother the hogs were being troublesome.”

  “Thank you, Father!” Garander repeated, more enthusiastically. He gave a look at the baron’s camp, but they would not be able to see much in the gathering gloom, especially if he went around the far side of the house. He hurried to the corner, watching over his shoulder as his father vanished into the barn.

  Ellador was not at the designated meeting place, and Garander grew steadily more worried as he waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a fourth of one. The colors had vanished from the west, and the sky overhead had faded from dark blue to starry black, when at last the wizard’s voice spoke.

  “I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I was afraid you might be delayed.”

  Startled, Garander looked around but saw no sign of the old man.

  “I’m wearing the Mantle of Stealth,” Ellador said. “I didn’t want Zendalir or Shasha asking awkward questions.”

  Garander had never heard of a Mantle of Stealth, but guessed it was some sort of invisibility spell. “Good,” he said. “This way.”

  He hoped the wizard was following him, but had no way of telling for certain—his magic apparently hid the sound of his footsteps, as well as rendering him invisible. He was reassured when the old man stumbled and muttered, “Death!” as he struggled to recover his balance.

  Garander made his way slowly and carefully from the farm into the forest, making it easy for the wizard to keep up, even in the growing darkness. Fortunately the greater moon was rising, and dull orange light trickled through the trees.

  He and Tesk had not specified an exact spot for their meeting; Garander had relied on the shatra’s superhuman senses to find him. He wandered almost at random into the woods, more or less aiming at a clearing where he and Ishta had visited with Tesk a few times.

  He had not quite reached it when Tesk’s voice asked, “Is the wizard coming, or has something gone wrong?”