by Scott Rhine
“Talking to some of the older help, I found out she’d had a crush on him since age twelve. By the time she was sixteen, the poor bastard never stood a chance. He could never say no to her for anything else. But in this, he couldn’t honorably say yes. All he had to do was ask the guildmaster to disown him, give up his name, all land and all titles, and she could be his. Of course, politically, her stepfather never could have allowed them to wed. Nerissa can’t understand this, or doesn’t want to.”
Dhagmurna leaned close to explain how things worked in the guild. “Whenever our soldiers won a major victory, the guildmaster often offered a boon to the commander. As Tashi’s first favor, he asked for remote assignment.”
Morlan winced.
“But she didn’t give up. Every time he visited, Nerissa poured on the charm. She can be a merciless tease. Tashi was going out of his mind. His friends from his old unit suggested finding a prostitute that looked like her, but his precious honor wouldn't allow that either. Eventually something inside him snapped.”
Dhagmurna paused, took a swig and several deep breaths. “She won’t talk to me about this part. But a hate that strong comes from somewhere. Even at sword point, Tashi refused to admit what happened. He’d rather have his throat cut than soil either of their reputations. But I heard he started taking a lot of baths after that. It’s how we tracked him, even after his memory loss. He just couldn’t feel clean.”
The large, dark-skinned guildmaster wrung the end of the wineskin compulsively. “She wasn't a virgin when she met me. Not that I cared; I loved her enough that it didn’t matter. It actually worked in my favor because it made any prearranged marriage with a noble impossible. The guildmaster was glad to get rid of her.”
Dhagmurna swallowed, and lowered his voice. “Her price for agreeing to have me was Tashi’s head. I had a deal going on the side that needed to be cleaned up if I wanted to go legitimate and become a guild leader. I set Tashi up to take the fall for my indiscretions.”
Morlan kept his face blank. Dhagmurna searchit for any signs of judgment before continuing. “I stole the one thing he loved most in this world—his honor. He chose it above her. His memory loss, the death warrant, the hunt through your territory, and everything that’s happened since snowballed from that mistake. I just thought you’d like to know that this man’s only known sin has been pissing off the wrong woman.”
Morlan took back the wineskin and drank another swig himself.
“I can talk to my wife about anything except this. Sometimes it helps to have someone to listen. Do you think I’m strange? I’m a professional killer and politician who’s tied in knots over a woman and feeling guilty about someone who may be innocent.”
The Kragen retainer laid a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. Then he pointed to a patch sewn onto his own outer robes, the symbol of the Knights of Hathar. The motto underneath read: “Whatever we must do for the Empire to stand.”
Dhagmurna thanked him again. The two soldiers sat in silence for an hour and then went their separate ways.
****
At sundown, the ultimatum arrived from the King of Zanzibos. Humi called her staff to her new home for a meeting just before dawn. The casino occupying the location had recently changed management. The villa was cramped for an entourage that large, but she found it comforting and the site was secure. The four defending battalion leaders, one for each wall, stood around the betting end of a converted dice table, gathering piles of gambling chips, some with scraps of paper attached to them. Each denomination stood for a different type of army unit, with swordsmen worth the most. Scouts and spymasters compared notes and racked up chips in ordered rows on the other end of the table. Humi reclined on her silk-cushioned divan and listened carefully to reports from all her subordinates.
During all the updates, more chips were added to the dice table. The most significant were the thirty swords contributed by Navarra. That got everyone’s attention. The enemy had just under 120 swords, with a seven-to-one support ratio, making just over 800 troops outside the gates. The forces inside the gates now had 430 swords, many green. But the five-to-one support ratio gave House Kragen over 2,150 troops. The king’s men couldn’t hope to win, and Zanzibos would be forced to concede. All the Kragen advisors were secretly hopeful that they could now win without wasting another drop of blood or spending another coin.
The vile specter whispered word from the north. Navarra had won the hearts and minds of the people of Westgate by using ki mages to treat ill civilians, the mayor’s son among them. This forced the surviving Swamp Rats to withdraw further and send for instructions from Reneau. As ordered, Tumberlin followed the messenger birds to the Pretender’s command center. Although only able to stay a brief time, he overheard rumors from intelligence officers that an important foreigner had been captured by the Viper and was being held at the order of the emperor. “The staff called this foreigner—a sheriff.”
Humi’s eyes blazed. There were still many other functionaries waiting to give their status reports, and her steward indicated with a gesture that little more time could be spared. With her face a mask of alabaster, stroking the black pendant around her neck, she said to her Shadow, “Well done. Today there’ll be no pain. Tomorrow you’ll take this message to the Pretender. ‘Give me the sheriff, and I will give you the King of Zanzibos.’”
To Dhagmurna, she snapped, “Prepare to march on the king’s palace.”
“Your ladyship, this is highly irregular,” the guildmaster exclaimed and stepped forward to reason with her. He counted himself clever for not using the word ‘insane’ out loud during his outburst. Morlan drew steel to block him. Dhagmurna pretended not to notice. “We hold the city. That was our goal.”
Humi glared at him. “In politics, he who seeks only to hold onto yesterday will have no future. When we secured his northern borders, he insulted us; that was Zandar’s first mistake. When we took this city, he made demands that he couldn’t enforce—his second mistake. We control half his kingdom and more swords than he can muster. He refuses to recognize this, or treat with us—his final error. Nobody that foolish should be tolerated as a sovereign.
“I, however, never ask for what I cannot take. The king’s generals are cautious, old men who won’t expect this attack either. We’ll take them by surprise and drive them before us like heralds of the new way! How soon can we move on the enemy positions?”
When Dhagmurna foundered, Nerissa stepped forward. “We have the will, the weapons, and the magic already, milady. No simple king will stand in our way. All we’re lacking are a few supplies and drays to carry them. Such a mobilization would take at least a week. If we’re permitted to use the river, it’ll be quicker.”
The guildmaster felt betrayed, but remained silent. The word ‘our’ made his blood run cold.
Humi nodded. “Let it be as you have said. This woman is in charge of the mobilization. Withhold nothing from her.” All bowed as Humi departed.
The staff meeting broke up soon after because of the new marching orders. When they were safely away from Kragen’s swords, Dhagmurna hissed to his wife, “Why’d you encourage her madness?”
Nerissa reminded him, “If Zanzibos had conceded, who’d have been offered up as a sacrifice to assuage the king’s wounded pride?”
“Us,” he rumbled.
“What’ll happen when Bablios learns we’re marching on the Palace of Zandar?”
Dhagmurna blinked. “Burn our homes to the dirt, kill all our people, and salt what is left so that the Prefect can free his men to attack the Kragen army from the rear.”
“And where does the path of the river take us?”
“Through Tamarind,” he deduced. “We can rescue them from the siege.”
She nodded. “And take them with us in the march to the palace. The army camping before us represents most of the force Zandar can put in the field. If we break them now, we can walk into the palace as conquerors.”
Dhagmurna was still stunned by the
completeness of her conversion and the depths of her hatred. “But Bablios will still burn our homes.”
Nerissa scoffed, “That was the old life. We’re the sword arm of Kragen now, the vanguard of the new Imperial regime. If you but bolster your manhood, we’ll succeed beyond your puny dreams.”
The guildmaster nodded and gave all the right commands for the massing of troops. Ine, he wondered at the price. In the end, he told Morlan he did this thing for the sake of their friendship and because the knight had saved his life outside the city wall. This was preferable to the truth of the matter. Dhagmurna was the captain of a great ship in the middle of the largest storm ever known, and he had no idea how to steer the vessel.
Chapter 46 – The Offer
Everything seemed to be going according to Sandarac’s plans. The capture of the sheriff had brought all manner of good fortune to the Pretender. He and his other key advisors bustled around the polished-marble map on the flo
or, and the woodcarvings representing the troops in and around Semenos. He proudly wore a black-velvet, general’s uniform bearing his family crest, but the cape dragged on the floor collecting dust and lint. The others had difficulty not stepping on the expensive, trailing fabric; thus, all gave him a wide berth.
First to report was Vinspar, the nominal leader of the elite Imperial Guards, and administrative muscle behind the emperor’s pet warship project for years. Though he had never fought in a battle, Vinspar knew how to organize. Each Imperial Honor had been painstakingly recruited, armored, and transported in secrecy to the Vale of Somber Reflection. Vinspar, in his white tabard, droned on with status updates. Everyone except the emperor ignored him until the inflection of his voice changed for his summary. “In conclusion, the ships have returned to port, their deliveries of men and supplies successful. All troops were deployed. The last unit will be hidden under cover in three days.”
“Two,” snapped Sandarac. “The plan calls for only two days.”
Vinspar nodded crisply and took a note for corrective action. Having completed his report, he bowed and resumed his seat. The other members of the high council shifted uneasily. None of them had such positive news.
General Garad’s assistant spoke next, trying to remain calm and succinct. Previous to this, the balding clerk had never spoken in council without first being spoken to, and then he had only provided supporting data. Barely audible, he announced, “General Garad is in position in the Vale as ordered, but his Majesty’s additional spearmen are consuming more rations than planned for deployments of this nature. General Garad is forced to send out hunting expeditions to supplement the mess rations with fresh meat.”
The emperor looked perturbed. “No! Doesn’t anyone listen?”
The clerk turned pale and blinked.
“Where is the enemy massing?” Sandarac demanded.
Beryl chimed in. “The bulk of the Babliosian forces are surrounding loyalist-held Cardinado, sire. We no longer get reports from the city itself, but the scouts say the defenses are so depleted that the siege should not last much longer.”
“Excellent,” said Sandarac. Then he explained to the clerk, “At a forced march, the army could be camped outside the Vale on the fifth day. Our intelligence could be off by as much as a day and those fires could be visible for as many as two days’ march away. Bablios must not be given that warning! All fires in those hills must be extinguished after two days. I don’t care if they have to eat their food raw. Am I clear?”
nodded. When he summarized the defensive preparations in Semenea, Sandarac wrinkled his brow. “That number sounds rather high.”
Coughing, the clerk admitted, “We brought down reinforcements from Kiateros.”
“Without my permission?” bellowed Sandarac. “Those troops are supposed to be under my command!”
The clerk said meekly, “Spies reported that Lugwort has an entourage much larger than anticipated. Between Forge members, escaped Kiaterans, and volunteer Mandibonians, he may have as many as thirty Honors behind him. At the first chance available, we’re certain his group will attempt to incite rebellion in the northern territories. We knew your highness couldn’t allow this and took the liberty of bringing down extra troops to block this possibility. Once the threat from Lugwort has been extinguished, any need for the garrison would be diminished. We regret that we didn’t have time to inform his highness of the shift before this meeting.”
Sandarac seethed at both pieces of news. He couldn’t punish Garad’s assistant now without endangering the operation. But an example had to be made. “Penrose was the commander of the Semenos garrison in Kiateros?” he asked. When Vinspar nodded, the emperor announced, “Commander Penrose had a rather large estate here in Reneau if I recall. Since he didn’t see fit to inform his superior of his movements and acted against standing orders, his lands and estate shall be converted to a charity hospital for veterans. His family may stay only if they wish to empty bedpans. Write Penrose that this move was necessary under the conditions and I just didn’t have time to tell him before now. I believe that takes care of item thirty-seven on our agenda as well.”
Vinspar nodded, and Garad’s pale clerk dared not utter another word.
Next came Beryl’s turn. He started with safe information, confirming the enemy troop estimates they had made for the forts on the Mandibonian border. “Mandibos seems to be honoring its pledge to respect our sovereignty and not attack. However, they do provide rearguard and supplies for the invaders.”
This was expected and several council members mumbled deprecations like, “Sheep,” or, “Predictable.”
Cautiously, Beryl listed the towns that may be under enemy control and the adjusted numbers of available troops. He neglected to mention that some of the towns had been seized by the king’s sister and her heretic rabble. The emperor would not learn of this from him. The losses of fighting units to the heretics were attributed to unfortunate accidents in the initial border clashes.
“That’s a lot more real-estate than we planned on,” muttered the Viper, “and a lot more men.” This man was the only one on the council that Beryl feared.
The priest of Semenos stammered. “But it’ll work out better for his highness in the end. Each town taken means more Honors tied down that the enemy won’t be able to engage in battle. Every clash makes him that much weaker when he enters the trap. The emperor ordered us to make a convincing retreat along the seashore after initial resistance.”
Hisbet, the former chief of Intagliosian Intelligence, laughed. “Something your troops turned out to be surprisingly good at. Lucky for us we didn’t ask them to roll over and play dead.”
Beryl turned red and sputtered, but Sandarac raised a hand for peace. “The priest is correct. Many of those villages were plague-ridden or too sm to garrison. Still, the enemy will have to sacrifice a hand of men each to hold those locations. The Book of Dominion and our past experience with Bablios tells us that the Prefect will need about three swords per league to protect his supply lines from indigenous assault. Every man we tie down in this way is one less we will have to face at the front. When we meet Bablios in the Vale, my latest computations show that he will have 270 swords to 470 of our own. But he’ll believe he has the upper hand. After the enemy camps for the night, I intend to use our night-sighted Imperials to devastating effect, breaking the back of the invader. The southern troops will try to retreat in panic. At that point, Garad will swing the trap shut from behind. The wall of spearmen will hold many times their number and provide a stone that we will use to grind the south into dust. On that day, we will be the ones to decide the path of the next Great Cycle.” The emperor’s breastplate gleamed like silver, and the counsel could almost imagine him standing as he shared his vision. “Once our own army smashes the main body of Babliosians, those bread crumbs on the trail will be easy to sweep away.”
Sandarac turned on the well-dressed priest and said in cold tones, “Just be certain that as you reach the Vale, you do so just before ni
ghtfall. Everything hinges on this. If you fail in this and ruin my plans, you and your family will not be as fortunate as that of Commander Penrose.”
Hisbet reported next. “The assassinations proceeded much faster than anticipated and bureaucratic snarls in Bablios have appeared in places we couldn’t have imagined ahead of time.” He handed a scroll of victims over to Vinspar who nodded approvingly. “However, one of the sleeper agents was unveiled early. This prevented the burning of the Library and resulted in the premature termination of most teams.”
Sandarac closed his eyes. “How many teams are proceeding to phase two?”
“Three partials, sir.”
The room was silent for a long moment. But the emperor adapted, drawing a cleansing breath. “Cancel phase two. Debrief the survivors and return them to Reneau. What were some of the unexpected benefits you mentioned? Give me something to smile about.”
Hisbet licked his lips. “Key units have been moved away, sapping the front lines and shores of Bablios. Because of our disruptive influences, the shores can’t be protected in time if we decide to strike there. Most importantly, Bablios is distracted by his twin’s distress. There seems to be some sort of civil war raging in Zanzibos.”
Again, Sandarac closed his eyes, this time to savor the pleasure. “Hisbet, if you weren’t a man, I’d marry you.” This was item fifty on the agenda, but no suitable candidates had as yet been located for chief concubine, given the emperor’s unique combination of secrets.
The Viper inclined his head. “Your grace, I’d accept, but that would disappoint a certain baroness who plans to visit me this evening.”
There could be no doubt as to whom Hisbet was alluding. Sandarac could only shake his head in admiration. “Didn’t she slap your face at the last Feast of the Flame? How do you manage such luck with women?”
