by Scott Rhine
With no warning, an enormous alligator charged out of the bulrushes, striking at Tashi’s leg. Faster than Nigel’s eye could follow, the sheriff drew his sword and sliced the end of its snout off. Two stabs later, the predator was dead.
“Do you know what this means?” asked Tashi.
“Intaglios really hates you?” guessed the actor.
Tashi shook his head. “No more gumbo!”
Chapter 26 – Blood Feud
The House of Kragen was of
ficially at war. The Mandala courtyard had become the command center of the campaign. Workers delivered messages from the birds, couriers, and the Shadow at all hours and flew off again with new orders. The ki mages, their lieutenants, and head servants all gathered around a collection of maps rolled out in the center of the courtyard. All of the major players sat in elaborately decorated, wooden chairs, the height of each determined by their respective rank. The Lady of the Deep’s chair was just a knuckle higher than all the rest and had a brilliant, crimson parasol to shield her from the rays of both suns. Her robes were the blackest silk, elegant in their simplicity. Her only jewelry was the thin chain around her neck that suspended the traitor’s life-stone above her chest.
The chief steward read the balance sheets for the latest battle and then summarized. “In short, our first few ambushes against the Brotherhood caught the victims completely off guard, both in the streets of Innisport and other cities of the south. Even so, our own casualties were higher than expected. Our mercenaries were under-trained and poorly armed by comparison. Worse, the enemy has already adapted to our tactics. They have orders not to go anywhere in less than half-band strength. Fighting a minimum of seven expert killers requires overwhelming force, which becomes difficult to mask. Because of this, our recruitment expenses have doubled.”
Vlekmar, the elder ki mage, made a sour expression on his already narrow, pinched face. “I told you we should’ve waited till we summoned our armies to the palace. Now we’re vulnerable.”
Necrota was calmer, happy in his new role in the Kragen triumvirate. “Oh, do stop whining, cousin. The goal in these feuds is to hurt the other guy before he even knows there’s a fight going on. In this goal, we’ve succeeded. Our nearest enemy is a week’s walk away and they know better than to poke at a hive of wizards. If you don’t think our reputations alone will keep us safe till the rest of our soldiers arrive, then consider the hundreds of peasants we’ve just pressed into service. No one could possibly get through these defenses.”
Vlekmar sneered, gripped his cane with claw-like fingers, and muttered, “So thought Kragen.”
The lady had scarcely registered the comment before aides around the courtyard chorused in unison, “Long live Lord Kragen!”
She allowed herself to smile slightly in favor of the display of devotion to the Heir. Humi glanced at her steward, cueing him to continue. “The cost of continuing with our current strategy will fast become prohibitive,” he said, concluding his report. Nervously, the steward offered up a sheaf of unpaid bills and returned to his seat.
Humi stared at the map. After a long moment, she announced, “I agree. We need to change our tactics. What would you suggest, Chamberlain?”
“Lady, Dhagmurna is distressed by his own losses and claims total ignorance of wrongdoing. He begs to meet with you to discuss terms of peace,” the steward said, trying to put an early end to the conflict.
“So he can finish the job?” scoffed Vlekmar. “Not while I draw breath.”
Humi wasn’t amenable to the offer either. “I am in agreement with the esteemed wizard. We have incontrovertible proof of his intent fr many sources. His armies won’t save him from justice. Post a bounty on the head of any executioner. Enlist the poor in our cause. No man can survive long against so many discontented.”
The steward squirmed in his seat. “Milady, this is contrary to the rules of blood feud. Only our House and uniformed employees may take part, no outsiders.” The Imperial rules were designed to prevent just such an escalation and allowed houses to resolve disputes without endangering the rest of the world.
But Humi wasn’t feeling diplomatic. The pregnancy was making her moody, and the palace cooks could never satisfy her anymore. Worse still, her arcane powers grew as fast as the child inside her. She hadn’t yet learned to control some of her most potent outbursts. “Rules? There are no rules in war!”
The steward bowed, almost cringing. “Your pardon, I merely meant that it is early in the conflict to expose ourselves to the public perception of dishonor. The enemy will invariably commit some egregious wrong and justify your worst response at some later date.”
Humi sighed. “Very well, we choose to exercise restraint for now.”
“An excellent decision, Lady,” applauded Necrota. “War, natural or supernatural, is about control: the field of battle, your opponent’s options, and eventually his very thoughts. If we maintain control, our enemy will do anything we wish. Might I suggest that we concentrate the bulk of our efforts in Innisport where we are strongest and have the easiest access? We can pin his forces elsewhere and concentrate on systematic annihilation at this one focal point.”
Humi considered the advice. “Any word on the smith?”
The steward shook his head. “Just that we have the roads sealed and city gates monitored. He has to be hiding somewhere in Innisport.”
Humi nodded. “Then we shall focus our efforts in the city of my father as you have suggested. Both Navara and our signet ring are there, making it a convenient power center. We were pleased to hear of the punishment of those who wronged Lord Kragen.”
“Long live Lord Kragen!” intoned the audience.
Drawing her lacquered nails over the arm of her high throne, she continued, “If our good ki mages can provide the same assurances about their leader, that sheriff, a proclamation can be issued and the strength of our house reclaimed.”
The old mage examined the empty whorls on the ground before him. The great project was already being disassembled for profit and to make weapons of war. The work of a lifetime was being scavenged like a corpse. “I’ve explained the cloud which covered his aural traces. But if he is indeed dead as Tumberlin and the executioners insist, it would explain our difficulties.”
“Impotence seems to be a recurring problem,” whispered the Lady to a handmaiden beside her, too softly for anyone else to hear. The girl giggled. When the scribe asked for her words, Humi said, “If he died in the courtyard, even someone with your failing… vision could have found a body.”
The younger mage defended his cousin. “Ah, but we have a theory about that. He was disguised and carrying a Kragen weapon. One of the craftsmen may have interred his body, thinking him one of our Honored dead. We’ve encountered the same blocking resonance inside the Halls of Remembrance, Lady. The crypts are many and the tunnels deep, but we hope to find his corpse and remove it from our hallowed grounds.”
Vlekmar huffed. “I don’t care about the body anymore. I want to know what he stole from the garden, what he was willing to die to obtain.”
“So would we all,” Humi granted. “What are you really asking?”
“It would help us immensely to see the lord’s notes on these matters. It would enable us to see the larger picture,” the old mage wheedled. Every practitioner’s mouth in the palace watered at the thought of access to the great lord’s treatises on the Project.
The Lady put on the mask of sincere apology. “Those books are for the Heir alone. I cannot give away that which he will need.” But she had read the documents, as much as she could, every night. She had gleaned enough to see the very picture they required. “The Mandala is no longer necessary. It was a ram for a gate that has since vanished. Know that my lord was right in every prediction and every mechanism; he was lacking only in the time.”
“Long live Lord Kragen!”
“Find the sheriff. Then, all will be revealed to you,” promised the Lady vaguely. She paused for a moment, reflec
ting and redirecting her will. “As for our tactics, I am certain that the guild members will eventually disobey orders and go somewhere alone. Since our business holdings can participate, we’ll take the battle there. Every brothel, alehouse, and gaming house where these assassins play shall become a place for our revenge.”
Vlekmar swallowed hard. “But Lady, they’ll retaliate. Any property involved in a slaying will be burned to the ground. It’ll impact our profits for years to come.”
The Lady’s rage built and the entire courtyard fell silent. “This isn’t about making a profit. It’s about cutting off the head of a snake that has bitten you and freeing your home of any future threat.”
Necrota put a hand up. “My cousin knows that we will pry the cost of our victory out of the enemy’s corpse. Such is always the way. What he means to say is that he wants to make the feud just as expensive for our opposition.” When he had everyone’s attention and tacit agreement, the mage continued. “To this end, I propose that we don’t do business of any kind with anyone who hires the guild.”
Vlekmar chuckled. “I like that. I would add anyone who gives them food, money, or aid of any kind, even the repayment of debts.”
Humi smiled as well. “Yes, it might hurt us for a brief moment, but it’ll suffocate the enemy. I could endure anything for that. If they can’t eat, they can’t fight. Effective immediately, stop all shipping and water transport to their stronghold at Tamarind Pass.”
The steward taking notes paused. “Lady, did you mean to say all of our shipping?”
Humi shook her head, eyes blazing. “No, I mean all of it. Where we don’t own it, we can use other means to halt it. It’s time this cur Dhagmurna realizes the true power he’s up against.” The courtyard was again quiet, this time in awe. The diver girl was waging war against a man only slightly less than a king and she showed every sign of winning. The House of Kragen would surely be great again with blood such as this in its line.
“Anything else?” she asked before dismissing her court for the day.
The steward had one more item on the agenda. He had saved it for last cause of its potentially explosive effect. “Captain Onira of the Zanzibosian Scouts wishes to speak to you in private.”
“About?” she asked. The steward refused to speak. Several eyebrows rose around the circle. To counter the suspicions, Humi said, “These are my most trusted advisors. What you tell me, they are free to hear.”
“Two matters. First, the captain was sent to investigate the light in the sky on that day.” No one was permitted to mention the death but the Lady of the Deep. “Second, he has a message for the hand of Lord Kragen from the hand of Zandar, King of Zanzibos. What shall I tell the good captain?”
Humi shrugged. “Why, nothing until I read the message he bears. Bring it to our study. It shall be for our eyes alone.”
The other members of the sept began to object, but she cut them short. “You two may wait in my parlor till I have finished.”
Humi’s bearers slid poles under her wooden chair and raised her aloft, carrying her swiftly back to the lord’s tower. After dining briefly on fruit, she opened the King’s seal on the scroll and began reading. The letter was longer than she expected, but she went over the text three times before feeding it to the brazier in Kragen’s workshop. She stared out at the Inner Sea until the mortal sun conceded and fled the sky.
When she entered the parlor, her first act was to send her steward on an errand. He paled at her order and whispered, “Are you certain, milady? It took ten years to repair. We’re not sure it will live up to its former glory. Our lord stored it away because the cost of using it was ruinous.”
She nodded sagely. “Our lord was wise. But he stored it so that it could eventually be used. Get the shipwright now. He is paid well for the secrets passed to him by his grandfather. It is time.” The steward bowed and departed the parlor, leaving her alone with the two mages. Their questions hung in the air as she rang for tea. One had to keep up one’s vital energy.
When it suited her, the Lady said, “Officially, the king’s message was never received. We shall draft a counter-letter explaining our situation and that we threw the scroll on our lord’s funeral pyre unread.”
“Unofficially?” pried Vlekmar. Humi was amused that one so aged should have the least patience of them all.
“Our true enemy has been revealed. Once the tree of the Guild has been uprooted, we will use it as a lever to topple the throne of Zanzibos. His majesty insulted my heritage at great length in his letter.” The word half-breed hung in the air unspoken. “His majesty said that I would get his royal approval and the return of my ancestral lands over his dead body.”
She stared both men in the face as she added coldly, “An unfortunate choice of words on his part.”
Necrota didn’t bat an eye at the treasonous statements; instead, he stroked his thin mustache and revised the scope of his plans outward. “We’ll need to move cautiously. There are several key warehouses we should discretely acquire and certain influential citizens to subvert. Innisport will be easy if we can get all of our troops in place without arousing suspicion. The general population won’t even recognize it as a hostile action. We can use the feud as cover for our troops to keep the peace in the surrounding area. We’ll get those currently in possession of your lands to sign a document acknowledging your claim. With the primary port to the Inner Sean our hands and Tamarind Pass in our pocket, Zanzibos will be in a tight vice indeed. The Prefect of Bablios appears be too busy with matters on his eastern flank to interfere. We have ferried some of his soldiers into Semenos already. It should provide the necessary diversion. When the King of Zanzibos realizes his position on the board, you’ll be able to force him into whatever settlement you wish.”
Humi favored the younger mage with an appreciative eyebrow.
Necrota bowed in courtly fashion. “We all have our hobbies, milady.”
“What about Captain Onira of the Royal Scouts?” demanded the older man.
Humi shrugged. “How many men does he command and what does he know?”
“Seven bands of seven, your ladyship,” said the younger mage. “He hasn’t been informed of the lord’s circumstances as of yet, as per your orders. The news missed him on the road.”
“I say we feed them well, give them our best accommodations, and after they send their report, kill them all in their sleep,” she said, adding sugar to her cup and stirring.
Vlekmar choked on his tea.
“This offends you?” asked the Lady wryly, considering the man was known to drain young maidens of all life force after taking their virginity.
“Stop being such a pansy,” Necrota complained. “What did you think we were going to do once we finished the Project? Did you think the rest of the world was just going to roll over for you?”
“Don’t warn your opponent so soon!” the old man cautioned. “Instead, send them to the farthest reaches of the realm chasing wild geese. Tell them the phenomenon they seek fled deep into the desert, and offer them guides. Make sure their water runs out sooner than expected and the tribesmen hear of the treasure they carry.”
Necrota smiled. “Our desert kin have a saying. Even the strongest man must eventually pull down his breeches to squat by the paba tree. Then can the patient man pull out his entrails.”
“How will we storm Innisport?” asked the cautious Vlekmar.
Humi said, “I’ve already taken care of that. The shipwright has been ordered to ready the Imperial warship my lord salvaged.” The ship had last been used to carry refugees in the Scattering, one of the few vessels that survived the brimstone raining from the sky, the churning waters, and the malcontents along the shores. The great mast had been replaced but never tested. The wards woven into the frame of the ship lay dormant and uncharged since its retirement. No one could be sure what to expect from it when it challenged the open sea again. “Our troops will creep up on our unsuspecting enemies like a nightmare while they sleep.”
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Vlekmar couldn’t raise his cup again lest he show the trembling in his hands. These would be terrible days ahead that would shine in history. But to live through such a history, he wouldn’t wish on any man.
Chapter 27 – The Eve of War
Sulandhurka’s smith found
a hole where he could rest in Innisport. He arranged to lease a single, shabby room iniversity District. He’d always wanted to attend university, but his parents had been the wrong nationality. The room had no frills or services, but it provided him two valuable commodities: time and anonymity. He used the time to rest, recover, and think. The rising tide of violence in the city told him that the hunters were now after him in packs. Furthermore, he was no longer sure what his motivation for returning to Tamarind Pass would be. The guildmaster wouldn’t reward his news and the Sword of Miracles would be taken from him. Indeed, when Dhagmurna heard the reason for the blood feud, the smith knew his own life could be used as a peace offering.
No, as loyal as he felt toward the Brotherhood, being used as a bargaining chip didn’t appeal to the smith. Strangely, the potential loss of the Sword of Miracles troubled him even more. It represented something. He who bore that blade protected the empire itself, and that he couldn’t trust in the hands of anyone else. But before it could be used, the blade would need to be repaired. After examining the shards at length, the smith despaired. The techniques used in its construction were far beyond his training. The feathering of the sesterina surface alone could have taken him a lifetime to master. He needed someone skilled, a craftsman who might have made Honors from their raw components.
There were no such craftsmen native to the area, but many types of people had been displaced by the Scattering, unable to return home. When he tried to tap his sources in the local Brotherhood, the smith almost got caught by an ambush party. Several executioners were cut down running from the burning chapter house. The bribes, fees, and encouragement required to discover the same information on his own drained his limited resources within the week. He concentrated on social clubs and bars where the patrons missed the era of Imperial rule. The aging loyalists at the Sixth Digit helped him just for the joy of talking to a young man about the good old days.
