by Colin Kapp
‘I have five hundred men at arms whom I’m willing to place at your disposal for the storming of Magda. I would expect you to use your influence with the societies to muster a similar force. Not even Magda could stand for long against a thousand men.’
‘It won’t work,’ said Ren. ‘Di Irons would never permit a pitched battle in Anharitte.’
‘Di Irons would be powerless against an army of a thousand. What could he do—arrest them all? But in any case, you may safely leave the prefect to me. You would march under my banner—and a noble house has right of arms anywhere in the city at any time. I can assure you that on the day we move the prefect and his men will be looking the other way.’
‘I’ll think it over,’ said Ren. ‘I’ll need to sound out the societies first.’
‘Then don’t delay too long. Dion has a bill of manumission set for consideration by the planetary government. Rumour has it that it’ll be favorably received. If it becomes law many slaves will earn the right to become freemen—though their sympathies will remain unchanged. At the moment we can move an army against Dion without opposition. If the manumission bill goes through the task will be much more difficult. A veritable legion of freemen will be eager to delay us.’
‘I promise you an answer with all speed. Within a day I’ll come to you on Secondhill and tell you what support we have. I think you’ll have your way if I can sway the societies in that time.’
‘Then I’ll look to receive you at this time tomorrow, Ren. But let this warning spur you—if Dion wins don’t hope for personal survival. Your support by and for the aristocracy is too well known for you to survive even a minor rebellion. If Dion’s flood gates open you, too, will be flotsam on the tide.’
The evening was a fine one. Breathing across the broad back of Firsthill, the warm winds from the sea gained a rich scent from the abundance of flowering trees and shrubs that flourished around the little squares and plazas. Here a trade cry and there a hint of music added texture to the air and endowed it with a sense of life.
The individually wrought and unplanned buildings, illuminated by the growing gold of evening, formed a picture that touched some unexpected vein of artistry in Ren’s soul. He felt he wanted to impress the perfection of this image into some more permanent form, so that he could take it to some other time and relive this evening hour. Unfortunately he knew of no medium with the scope or fidelity to record the nuances of light, the scents and sounds and character of Anharitte. He could only promise himself that, whatever the outcome of his feud with Dion-daizan, the city as it now stood must never be destroyed.
The Lodge of the Pointed Tails was particularly impressive with its golden turrets and ornate red relief. Passing into its rich interior, Ren was once again lost in the lyric pictures that depicted the bloody and glorious progress of the Ahhn out of barbarism to their present proud community. The message was not lost on him. The Ahhn civilization was too newly acquired to have become an innate precept. If it were disrupted at this stage, every possibility existed that the whole society would revert to the former pattern of savage warrior tribes and be set back five hundred years in history.
In mid-stride Ren was caught by the realization that in opposing Dion-daizan he had himself adopted a measure of responsibility for the future of the Ahhn. As representative of an outworld power and in control of money and resources comparable with those of the nobility, he was equally responsible with Di Irons, Di Guaard and the Imaiz for preserving the essential Anharitte. No victory, however won, would taste lilly thing but bitter if the prize were destroyed in the winning.
As usual, Catuul Gras was expecting him. No movement of persons of interest ever went unreported to the scribe. Catuul had been practicing shadow-fighting with some curiously old and ornate toothed swords when Ren entered. These fearsome instruments he laid carefully on the long table and addressed the weapons rather than the agent.
‘So the Lady T’Ampere has made her proposition?’
Ren felt his eyes drawn to the barbarous swords, which were fashioned to inflict the most terrible wounds in flesh, yet disengage cleanly—they were weapons for use when no quarter would be asked or given.
‘She has. What do you know?’
‘The house servants of Lady. T’Ampere have no tongues. But they can speak with their hands. And so can we. You acquitted yourself well in that conversation, friend Tito. She’s one of the abolii.’
The latter word was taken from the old Ahhn phrase for detestable. Ren had heard it used occasionally, but seldom with such feeling. He was gratified to note that the systematic mutilation of slaves was unpopular even with the societies.
‘The point is,’ said Ren, ‘do we accept her offer or not? I need your advice. And I need to know if the societies will cooperate.’
‘You ask two questions, friend Tito, and I give you two answers.’ Catuul took up one of the vicious swords and drove it savagely into the plaster of the wall. ‘My own advice to you is on no account become associated with T’Ampere in any way. The House of T’Empte made a similar mistake. Now T’Empte is an empty province. But nonetheless—the societies will find five hundred men. They don’t favor the idea, but if Dion’s bill of manumission is accepted by the planetary government, it will be the start of the end of us all. We must support even the abolii if we wish to preserve our way of life.’
Ren took up the second sword and examined its toothed edge. Held closely, it lost its cumbersome appearance and the dreadful artistry of the razor teeth made him wince as he imagined its effect in battle. Its balance was perfect in his hands.
‘The clans have already spoken then?’
‘The elders have been holding council for days regarding Dion’s bill. They have decided he must not be allowed to press the bill to law. To have five hundred extra men from T’Ampere for the purpose is worth a pact with the devil.’
‘Then I may confirm to Lady T’Ampere that her offer is acceptable?’
‘Go at the agreed hour tomorrow. If there is any change in the situation I’ll contact you before you go. If you don’t hear from me, assume that it’s safe to accept T’Ampere’s offer.’
‘Why so guarded?’
‘Because the Lady T’Ampere had a visitor earlier today—before she came to you. Sonel Taw, the castellan of Di Guaard. We don’t yet know what was said, but it’s an absolute certainty that my Lord Delph knew nothing of it. Mad he may be, but even he would have no’ commerce with T’Ampere. Tread very carefully, friend Tito. There’s great mischief in the making in Anharitte, and T’Ampere is behind it.’
EIGHTEEN
There was no castle on Secondhill. The once-great fortress of T’Ampere had been laid in ruins in some former conflict. Now its broken walls and chambers gaped amazedly at the sky, as if it could still not comprehend the fury that had destroyed it. At the foot of the ruins sat the neat circle of the chateau and the home estate. True, the complex was walled, but not in the sense of forming a stronghold in battle. T’Ampere’s strength lay in other regions.
To reach T’Ampere, Ren had passed from Firsthill down through the slave market and crossed the ship lanes by slimboat. From here he had ascended Secondhill by the only access worthy of being called a road.
The way had wound steeply up between the great banks of a natural pass. During the climb he had seen no signs of life or habitation. Breaking suddenly over the brow of the hill he came upon the gates of the chateau before he had guessed their nearness. Unlike the other hills, each of which had an attendant township gathered outside the citadel, Secondhill contained only the walled seat of T’Ampere and immediately spread out to contain nothing but the broken, sheep-grazed slopes that reached down to the eastern plains and T’Ampere province.
Ren’s first impression that the Chateau T’Ampere was undefended was soon corrected. His path toward the broad gates had placed him in a neat ambush. He found himself surrounded by some undoubtedly competent soldiery and was forcibly conducted to a barracks associated with the gre
at house and there interrogated by an officer. When he had established his identity, a runner was despatched to ascertain Lady T’Ampere’s wishes in the matter. The message came back that Ren would be summoned when the lady pleased. Fuming at the treatment he was receiving, Ren found himself locked in a cell for two hours until a guide came to conduct him to Lady T’Ampere.
The rooms of T’Ampere were depressing. Here was traditional Ahhn style used to an extreme extent, with carpets many centimetres thick strewn with cushions. Even the walls were smothered with heavy drapes and curtains. The screened windows admitted barely any light and what light did gain entrance was immediately absorbed by the browns and grays and blacks of the soft furnishings. Ren was reminded of the lair of a pampered cat—even the air seemed pungent with an overpowering feline smell. Here, he reasoned, was one more instance where nobility and absolute power over others had over-fed itself to produce something mentally and physically unwholesome. It came to him that the Ahhn nobility had shown him little to commend its survival. Perhaps Dion’s revolution was fated to succeed.
‘You bring me an answer, Agent Ren?’ T’Ampere rose from the gloom, bright-eyed like a jungle creature regarding its prey.
Ren longed to strike at the bright mockery, ‘Perhaps. But first I’d like an apology for being detained so long by your men. I came here at your invitation to answer a question you had asked. I resent being treated like a thief.’
The amusement quickened in her face. “Believe me,‘if you saw what we did to thieves in T’Ampere, you would raise no such unjust accusation.’
Ren saw she was playing with him and decided to deny her the pleasure of drawing a response. His dislike of the woman was now intense.
‘Lady T’Ampere, yesterday you brought me a proposal—five hundred men at arms to use against Magda if the societies would provide a like number. This they’ve agreed to do.’
‘A firm decision so quickly?’ The feline eyes narrowed. ‘Either you have remarkable powers of persuasion or the elders have become mortally afraid of Dion.’
‘They didn’t take me into their confidence. In this matter I act only as messenger.’ Ren felt disinclined to elaborate.
‘I doubt that’s true.’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘But it’s of no importance. At any rate we now have our alliance.’
‘We do not,’ said Ren abruptly. ‘I said the societies had agreed. I didn’t say that I agreed.’
A flicker of anger crossed her face. ‘And what objection do you have, merchant?’
‘When I climbed Secondhill I had no objection. But I want now to know why I was detained. Was it to make me conscious I was not of the Anharitte nobility? Or was it to keep me out of the way while some other plans were entertained?’
‘I find your impertinence less than amusing. Do you suspect me of duplicity?’
‘I suspect the alliance you offer is not as simple as you claim.’
‘Grief! And do you also have a name for these other activities in which you think I’m involved?’ Her voice held steely contempt.
‘At a guess I’d say they concerned Di Guaard and Sonel Taw.’
Her face became clouded with disbelief then relaxed into laughter.
‘You have my apology, Agent Ren. I mistook you for a fool. I see now why even Dion treats you with circumspection. You understand us far better than we understand ourselves. Let’s stop fencing with each other and conclude our alliance. I perceive we make worthy partners in mistrust.’
‘When I need your men I’ll send for them,’ said Ren. ‘I won’t make advance plans with you, because T’Ampere has no talent for secrecy. When I ask for your men, you are to send the full five hundred without delay and they will respond to my lieutenants, not their own. Only on these terms can I afford to be involved with T’Ampere.’
‘You’ve been well schooled,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a good sign. Very well, your terms arc accepted. If you cover yourself as well against your enemies as you do against your allies, you should have a brilliant future in Anharitte. Indeed, I’ve a mind to make you a second proposition.’
‘Which is?’
‘I could use a man of your caliber at T’Ampere. The rewards would be far and above anything the Company could offer.’
‘In what capacity?’ asked Ren without enthusiasm.
‘Consort,’ said Lady T’Ampere.
Ren felt physically sick. ‘I’m afraid the proposition’s unthinkable. For me to adapt to the ways of T’Ampere is not possible. For T’Ampere to adapt to me would need a major revolution.’
‘Then I’ll order runners to light your way down the slopes. Such paths can be treacherous.’
‘In the high places of Anharitte all paths seem to be treacherous,’ said Ren.
Night had fallen by the time Ren left the Chateau T’Ampere. The beautiful Rim stars were spread in a wide, bright pattern and such was their illumination that torches were not actually necessary. Nevertheless a dozen runners with flares were waiting to guide him down the path toward Firsthill and the light from their brands at first obscured a shifting redness in the western sky.
Clear of the gates, Ren stopped and directed the runners to fall behind him so that he could better see the flame on the farther hill. An angry red patch seemed to burn on the left side of Firsthill, but its precise location was difficult to determine. As he continued down the pass the direct view of the conflagration was lost to him and its existence was told only by a continued redness in the sky.
At the river he bade the runners return to their mistress. A slimboat, attracted by the light of the flares, came to ferry him across the shipping lanes. The boatman had no knowledge of the fire on Firsthill, but opted for the direction of Di Guaard when questioned about its probable location. Having gained the shore, Ren hurried through the now deserted slave market and was soon in the complex of streets at the top of the hill. A trade call alerted him to the presence of a waiting armsman from the Pointed Tails.
‘Agent Ren, Catuul asked that I intercept you on your return. He wishes to speak with you at the lodge. We must proceed with caution.’
‘What’s happening here?’ asked Ren.
‘The slaves of Di Guaard have set fire to the castle. Rumor has it that Delph Di Guaard is slain. The prefect and his men are now in attendance. Catuul suggests it would be unwise for you to enter the district.’
‘He’s probably right. The timing of this affair is not without significance. Lead me by a safe route to the lodge.’
The streets were crowded with sightseers, drifting toward the scene of the fire. In the background a shadowy traffic of hurrying men indicated the messengers of various agencies going to report or being sent again to keep up with the news. The armsman hastened Ren through the slowly moving throng, turning aside always to avoid dark places. A constant chatter of inquiry came from opened upperstory windows as bewildered heads tried to gauge the cause of the commotion. The armsman stopped to engage no one in conversation. Though he did not speak of it, his movements seemed to anticipate danger at every corner and his hand was forever hovering near his sword.
Catuul Gras was waiting at the lodge.
‘Is it true that the slaves of Di Guaard have revolted?’ Ren asked him.
Catuul nodded. ‘It’s true. But they were incited to revolt.’
‘By whom? Not the Imaiz, surely?’
‘No, by the castellan, Sonel Taw. I think he saw in the ruse a chance to depose Lord Delph. But in any event he’s failed.’
‘Were the prefect’s men so quick to Delph’s defense?’
‘The prefect’s men were unable even to pass the outer walls. By the time they reached the castle the fight was over and most of the slaves were contained. Which is fortunate, because if they had escaped into Anharitte and gained support from their fellows, the whole city would probably be afire by now.’
‘I sensed as much,’ said Ren. ‘Tensions are high in the streets tonight. But if Sonel Taw incited the slaves to riot, who was it who
quelled them?’
‘A hundred bondsmen from Magda,’ said Catuul, looking nowhere in particular.
‘Magda? Slave against slave? To protect Di Guaard?’
Ren was fazed momentarily.
‘I knew you’d not believe me, friend Tito, but I can only speak what I know. Though I doubt if it was Delph Di Guaard’s health they were interested in maintaining. I think they were as afraid as we of the incident’s starting a general uprising. With seven slaves in the district for every freeman, tonight could have been one of the bloodier pages of history.’
‘And if Di Irons had been forced to call in the government forces, it would have been even bloodier.’ Ren nodded his acceptance of the logic. There was no doubt that if once the floodgates of violence were opened they would be extremely difficult to close.
A commotion at the door broke up the conversation. Three of the Pointed Tails armsmen were struggling to subdue a prisoner they had taken from the streets, who had broken away at the last moment. Fortunately they were men who knew their trade. Shortly a body was thrown through the door to land at Catuul’s feet. The scribe turned the wretch over wonderingly, a short dagger held to the man’s throat. With his windpipe in peril Sonel Taw, the castellan of Di Guaard, looked up from the floor in genuine anguish.
‘Ah! The idiot is here,’ said Catuul with some satisfaction. ‘Witness the man who was crass enough to risk all Anharitte to satisfy his spite.’
Sonel Taw noticed Ren and struggled to sit up. His face lit with an ingratiating smile of recognition.
‘Agent Ren knows me. He’ll tell you all is not as it seems. We have an understanding, the agent and I. Ren, keep these ruffians from my throat.’
‘I think not,’ said Ren. ‘What you’ve provoked tonight could well have killed us all. If you had a quarrel with Di Guaard, you should have tried it man to man. But to involve the slaves could have resulted in a massacre.’
‘But—’ The castellan rose to his knees, his eyes searching piteously for comprehension. ‘But it was part of the plan—’
