The Crown of blood tcob-1

by Gav Thorpe

  "I hope she doesn't settle for these old goats," Ullsaard said with a disconsolate shake of the head. "I can't imagine any of them having the necessary endurance."

  Lerissa looked across the room and caught Ullsaard's gaze. Her warm smile melted another piece of his heart. He nodded in acknowledgment and turned away, cursing his faithless thoughts. This was no time to get distracted. He had to keep an eye on Noran to make sure he didn't get himself, or Ullsaard, into more trouble.

  The Maasrite functionary coughed politely to catch their attention. He looked pointedly towards an archway barred by a heavy curtain of black and red beads.

  "Governor Nemtun would like to speak with you in private before he joins the festivities."

  "In there?" Noran asked with a gesture towards the curtain. The factotum nodded. Ullsaard heard Noran taking in a deep breath as he plunged towards the archway. "Best not to keep him waiting."

  III

  The small room beyond the curtain was filled with brightly patterned divans, and low wooden tables brimming with fruits and various dishes made from the fish of the Greenwater. Nemtun reclined in the dim light from the room's one narrow window, his gross form filling the couch on which he sprawled. He looked up at the clatter of beads and smiled, droplets of sweat dripping from his heavily lined brow and bald scalp.

  "Ah, my special guests!" Nemtun declared in his bass voice, jowly cheeks wobbling. He raised a beringed hand in greeting but made no effort to sit up.

  "Governor," replied Noran with a nod. He glanced towards a divan and Nemtun motioned the pair to seat themselves. "Thank you for the invitation, but I must start with an apology."

  "Eh? How so?" Nemtun's crumpled forehead deepened into a frown. "You've only just arrived; you can't have got into that much trouble already, Noran!"

  "Not at all, Governor," Noran said with a light laugh. His face grew sincere. "We must apologise for not being able to enjoy your hospitality for long."

  "Got an early start," added Ullsaard with what he hoped was a look of disappointment. Noran shot him an exasperated look, piqued by Ullsaard's interruption.

  "As the general says, we must be away by dawn tomorrow to make all speed to Askh, and I've never had much of a stomach for boats at the best of times."

  "Shame."

  Noran blinked in surprise at the governor's flat retort. He rallied quickly. "We are also eager to learn if you have heard any further news of Prince Kalmud's condition."

  Now it was Ullsaard's turn to be surprised. Wasn't Noran supposed to keep the prince's illness secret from Nemtun?

  "I had hoped to ask you the same," Nemtun replied heavily. "You're the first man from the court I've seen since poor Kalmud went upriver."

  "He was as well as could be hoped when I departed, and I have no reason to believe he will not make a full recovery."

  Nemtun shifted his bulk, causing the wooden frame of the divan to creak alarmingly. Once upright, the governor leant forwards, wiped a hand over his sweaty pate and fixed Ullsaard with bright blue eyes.

  "And what about you, General?"

  Ullsaard managed to avoid glancing towards Noran for guidance.

  "I am well, Governor. The campaign in Mekha is slow but progressing."

  "Those sand-eaters giving you much trouble?" Nemtun plucked a bowl of roe from a nearby table and scooped a handful of the black eggs into his mouth.

  "Not so far," Ullsaard replied, ignoring the cluster of small spheres now stuck to the governor's chin. "The lava-throwers are a match for the behemodons, and they've got nothing else to offer in the way of threat."

  "Reckon you should be done by winter."

  "I don't know. The Mekhani keep moving around, it's hard to bring them to battle in one place. They split up and disappear into the desert where we can't follow."

  "Why not?"

  Ullsaard was taken aback by the question; a general of Nemtun's experience should have realised the difficulties of maintaining an army in such conditions. He kept his tone even.

  "Not enough to drink, Governor. There're lots of scattered water holes, but each can only sustain two or three thousand men, and many are up to a march apart. The Mekhani would love us to spread all over the place, letting them gather their numbers and come at us while we're divided."

  Nemtun grunted in understanding.

  "What are you going to do about that?"

  Ullsaard considered the question, grabbing an orange to fill the gap before his answer.

  "When the bridge is built, we can stockpile better, and then we can launch a proper offensive. I'm just hoping they're stupid enough to have a few more goes at us over the summer."

  "Seems like you're making slow work of it."

  "When has war ever been speedy?"

  "When I brought Anrair into the empire," replied Nemtun. "Two summers, that's all it took to get those barbarians to concede defeat."

  "It was a masterful campaign," Ullsaard admitted. "Though Anrair is very different from Mekha."

  "The same excuses," Nemtun said, waving away Ullsaard's answer with a flick of his wrist. "Just bloody well get it done. I've got labourers fucking and drinking and doing nothing else while they wait to go hotwards to build your town. I don't know why they were sent here first; dull Enairians and horny Ersuans filling up the streets and barracks, eating my food and chasing the local women."

  Ullsaard killed an angry retort and finally looked to Noran for help. The herald was peeling an orange with his knife and looked up at the sudden silence.

  "It might not be Ullsaard's problem for much longer," Noran said hurriedly, glancing between the general and the governor. "Depending on Kalmud's state of health, I think Ullsaard might be taking over the Greenwater campaign."

  Ullsaard wanted to throttle Noran at that moment. Why had he brought up the Greenwater campaign with Nemtun? The governor grunted again; Ullsaard detected a note of disapproval.

  "I am sure Kalmud will be healthy enough to rejoin his legions soon," said Ullsaard, thinking that Nemtun was perhaps annoyed by Noran's assumption that Kalmud would be unwell for some time. "Maybe before the winter, with any luck."

  "I don't know why Lutaar doesn't just ask me to do it," grumbled Nemtun. "I mean, who is better placed than me? I'm right on the river already, got plenty of experience."

  "I'm su-" began Noran but Nemtun cut him off.

  "It's all well and good making sure his sons get in on the action, but I've had my eye on going hotwards along the Greenwater ever since I came to Geria."

  "I would have thought being a governor was far more rewarding and comfortable than the campaign road," suggested Noran. "All that bad food and… long marches."

  Ullsaard suppressed a smirk, imagining Nemtun waddling along at the head of a legion column, gut bulging between breastplate and kilt.

  "You think I'm too old and fat?" rasped Nemtun, heaving himself to his feet to totter towards Ullsaard. "Pah! It's sitting around here every day that got me this way. My heart and lungs are still strong; the fat would melt off me after a few days. Then I'd show you idiot youngsters how to lead a legion!"

  Ullsaard could ignore the overstatement of Nemtun's victories but it was more than his mood could bear for his accomplishments to be dismissed so easily. He surged to his feet with a growl and confronted Nemtun, whose eyes were on a level with Ullsaard's chin.

  "The Anrair tribes were ready to surrender after one summer, but you decided to take another year so you could add half-adozen pointless battles to your name; battles fought against half-hearted, broken warriors who just wished their chiefs would be allowed to hand over their weapons. If you were such a great leader, why didn't you press on into Salphoria?"

  "Be warned, I am not a man to be mocked!" Nemtun's cheeks and chins trembled with indignation, his face growing ever redder. "I ought to summon you to the bloodfield to teach your generation a few manners."

  Ullsaard couldn't stop the short laugh that erupted from his lips.

  "I would not meet you there, eve
n if you called my mother a whore," the general said. "You're right; you are too old and too fat to fight, either as a general or a warrior. I'd take no pleasure and no honour from gutting you on the bloodfield, so why would I bother?"

  Noran was horrified and grabbed Ullsaard's arm, fearing perhaps that he would strike the governor. Instead, Ullsaard took a step back, picked up a bowl and raised it to Nemtun. "Okharan spiced fish head, Governor?"

  Nemtun's eyes flickered between the beady eyes of the dead fish and Ullsaard's hard stare. A smile crept across his thin lips, creating deep dimples. The governor plucked a fish head from the bowl and met Ullsaard's gaze.

  "Go fuck your mother, Ullsaard," Nemtun said amiably. "You're not of the Blood; you're not even Askhan. Aalun's already promoted you beyond your ability. I've no idea what he sees in you. Hurry up; scurry off to Askh to wipe his arse for him. While Kalmud is incapacitated, you'll need to keep on Aalun's good side. Your shortcomings will become obvious soon enough. I'd start being very nice to the few friends you actually have; you never know when you might need them."

  The governor slumped back into the couch and continued, tossing the fish head at Ullsaard's feet.

  "If you do get the Greenwater campaign, don't think of stopping off here on your way back from Askh, because there'll be no welcome for you. You know, sometimes stores get spoiled, or ships spring leaks."

  "Perhaps we should be getting away," said Noran, stepping between the two of them. "Early start and all of that."

  "We'll leave the governor to his party," agreed Ullsaard, pulling his arm from Noran's tightening grip. "I'm sure he needs to save his strength for that."

  The general turned sharply through the curtain, as Nemtun snarled a last retort.

  "Enairian cockeater!"

  Ullsaard's face was a mask of polite respect as he emerged into the main chamber. He cast around the room for Lerissa but the governor's wife was not to be seen. The old goats that had been crowding her were still present, with the glum looks of men who were sure they had missed a certain chance.

  "I think that settles business for the evening," he said to Noran, who had become quite pale and agitated. After another quick look for Lerissa, Ullsaard headed for the door. "There's nothing else to keep us here."

  IV

  Noran silently fumed during the ride back to the villa and Ullsaard said nothing. The herald kept his tongue while the ailurs were taken away and he led Ullsaard to one of the reception chambers. Servants in plain white tunics entered quickly, bringing wine and water. Ullsaard slouched on a rug and pulled one of the ewers next to him, pulling out the stopper with his teeth. Noran snatched the jug away, spilling red liquid onto the ochre tiled floor.

  "You stinking heap of abada shit!" Noran snarled. Ullsaard smiled without shame. Noran wanted to punch or kick the idiot, but thought better of it and contented himself with hurling the jug against the wall. "You selfish, childish, moronic, cock-gnawing…" He floundered around for the right words before giving up. "Arsehole!"

  Ullsaard's smile faded and Noran thought for a moment that he had gone too far.

  "Nemtun only got what he deserved; the fat, useless toad," grumbled Ullsaard.

  "That's not the point!" shrieked Noran. He turned as a servant entered and started picking up pieces of the shattered jug. "Get out! Get out!" The servant quickly retreated.

  Noran began pacing again, stopping only to fill a cup to the brim with wine, downing half the contents in two long gulps.

  "I really didn't need Nemtun as an enemy, you fucking idiot," Noran rasped before finishing off the cup of wine. The sharp liquid took the edge off his anger a little. "Why did you do it? Why in all the world did you pick a fight with him?"

  "If he's got a problem with anybody, it'll be me," Ullsaard said placidly. "You've got nothing to worry about."

  "Oh, I do, I really do. I was in the room with you, for Askhos's sake. I thought I'd got away with being here against Aalun's wishes, but you've made sure he'll find out. Nemtun will be sending a message to Askh right now; telling the king and his sons about how you've insulted one of the Blood, one of the king's appointed governors. They really don't like that sort of thing."

  "Psh! Lutaar despises his brother for his behaviour of these last years, and surely if Aalun held him in any regard he wouldn't have told you to avoid him. Believe me; Nemtun has fewer friends in court than I do."

  "It's not about Nemtun, it's about the dignity of the Blood." Noran slammed the cup down on the low table and glared at Ullsaard. "They can't let people go around insulting members of the Blood and getting away with it. They'll have to punish you to maintain respect."

  "What can they do?" Ullsaard said with a shrug. "I'm already campaigning in the arse end of nowhere; it isn't like they can send me anywhere worse. And if they want me to take my chances on the bloodfield, I'm more than happy."

  "It's a matter of the Blood, and that means the Brotherhood will get involved," Noran said. He shook his head in exasperation. "They don't send you on shitty garrison duties or make you prove your mettle on the bloodfield. They've got much nastier ways of punishing folks. They could name you as an enemy of the empire, take your family away, cut off your balls and then have you strangled."

  "I think you're overreacting…"

  "Yes? Tell me that again when you're a ball-less, family-less man being strangled to death."

  Ullsaard laughed so hard that Noran couldn't stop himself from smiling.

  "What? What's so funny?" said the herald.

  "You are. All of your concern isn't for me, it's for you. You've got far more to lose than I have. It's you without bollocks that worries you."

  "That's not true! We've been good friends for most of our lives, I wouldn't want to see you ruined because of a stupid outburst."

  "It's done now, so we'll just have to see what happens," said Ullsaard, gesturing to the stoppered jugs of wine. Noran sullenly tossed one over to him. "You could apologise," suggested the herald.

  "Not a chance!" Ullsaard pulled free the stopper and drank directly from the jug, a trickle of wine staining his tunic. "If Nemtun senses weakness, he'll go in for the kill. At the moment, he's wondering whether I'm going to call him out. He's probably just as distressed as you about the matter. He knows I'm on good terms with Aalun and Cosuas, and is probably worried about what I might say about him."

  Noran crossed the room and took the jug from Ullsaard, swigging a mouthful of wine as he sat down next to his friend.

  "You know, if I'm going to get fucked on this, I'm not going to let you forget it."

  Ullsaard retrieved the wine and slurped a mouthful.

  "It'll be a sad day for Greater Askhor if two fine upstanding citizens like us get fucked for speaking our minds."

  Noran shook his head at Ullsaard's naivete but said nothing. They shared the wine for some time, leaving three empty jugs on the floor, and Noran began to feel sleepy. He was about to excuse himself and send for a servant to take Ullsaard to his chambers when the general turned a bleary but accusing gaze on Noran.

  "You brought up Kalmud first!" Ullsaard exclaimed.

  "What do you mean?"

  "With Nemtun. You didn't want him finding out about Kalmud's illness, but you were the first one to mention it. Why'd you do that?"

  Noran smiled smugly and winked.

  "I figured that Nemtun just had to know something already. Kalmud came through Geria and, by fair or foul means, Nemtun would have found out. Or found out something, even if it wasn't the whole truth. You know, I'm sure someone would have lied to him about it, put him off track. By being open about it, I pretended there was no secret about Kalmud, so there was no reason for Nemtun to suspect anything he had already heard. That way, I could work out what lie, if any, he'd already been told. Simple."

  Ullsaard scratched his bearded chin and his eyes glazed over for a moment before he focussed again. "What lie?" "Did he seem all that concerned to you?"

  "No. He was very calm about the whole thi
ng; more interested in trying to relive his glory days."

  "Exactly. Nemtun clearly knows that Kalmud is ill, but it looks like he doesn't know quite how ill he is. He's happy to stay out of the matter because he thinks Kalmud will be back on his feet soon enough. Why make him think anything else?"

  Ullsaard nodded sagely, eyelids drooping. He squinted at the almost-empty jug.

  "That's strong stuff; we should probably have watered it."

  Noran suppressed a heavy yawn and silently agreed. He stood up uncertainly and patted Ullsaard on the shoulder.

  "Someone will show you to your rooms when you're ready. I'll see you bright and early."

  V

  While Ullsaard and Noran slept the heavy sleep of the drunken, Erlaan stared into a camp fire, not far from the duskward bank of the Greenwater. He was alone — except for two Maasrites — and was depressed. He grabbed pinches of dirt from between his legs and flicked them at the flames.

  "I'm glad Noran suggested I not stay in Geria," the prince said. The tongueless servants looked across to him from where they were preparing his bedding, their bald heads reflecting the glow of the flames. "The last thing my father or grandfather need at the moment is Nemtun raging around the palace making trouble."

  The two Maasrites — Keaila and Aminea — nodded sympathetically and returned to their chore. Erlaan didn't notice and continued talking softly.

  "He trained my father and uncle in generalship, you know? I think that's why they both agreed I should learn from Cosuas and Ullsaard; didn't want me to suffer whatever it was they had to go through."

  The servants exchanged a knowing look and glanced with mock pity at the Prince of the Blood. Erlaan was still looking at the dancing red and orange of the fire.

  "I'm still not sure why I need to learn to be a general," he muttered, grabbing a fistful of dry earth. He let it trickle through his fingers. "When I'm king, I'll have generals to lead legions for me."

  Concealed from Erlaan's view, Aminea's fingers flickered in secret sign language, "King one day?" Keaila gave a slight shrug and softly shook his head in disappointment. They shared a smirk while they plumped up the prince's feather-filled pillows.