Nicholas had noticed that all who passed wore badges of one sort or another. The majority were the heads of animals, and these he understood were the clan badges of which both Tuka and Praji had spoken. The others wore mercenary badges, showing to which company they owed allegiance. Nicholas had thought about having badges made for his men, but hoped they’d be gone from the city on their way home before that step was necessary. He already felt they had been here too long.
When they had neared their host’s house, the hereditary home of the Lion Clan, Nicholas saw another example of just what sort of life those who lived in this city endured: it was an armed camp, and there were sentries for blocks before the house could be seen. The house was of three stories, with an observation turret atop the third floor. Archer platforms were manned and the outer wall was seven feet high. They entered the gate and Amos said, ‘A bailey!’
The clear area between the outer and inner wall stretched away and around the corners of the estate. An inner wall rose twelve feet high, and the distance between the two walls was thirty feet. The guide said, ‘Two hundred years ago the Rat Clan and their allies forced their way into the house itself. The Clan Chieftain at the time was exiled in shame; his successor built the two walls so that this might never happen again.’
Vaslaw Nacoyen met them at the entrance, with a dozen of his clan warriors in attendance. Nicholas was thankful they had met the Jeshandi before, as he now could see the relationship between these two peoples. The city-dwelling clansmen might wear robes of fine silk and bathe in perfumed waters, but they were still related in their dress and weapons. The men atop the roof carried the short horse bow; not one crossbow or longbow was in evidence. The men wore the same warrior’s topknot that Mikola had worn in his yurt, and most of them wore long, droopy moustaches or closely trimmed beards.
Vaslaw led them into a large room that looked as much like a council chamber as a dining hall. A long table stretched across it, set for dining, with servants waiting. Vaslaw motioned for Nicholas and his guests to sit. The old man made introductions to his one surviving son, Hatonis, and two daughters. Yngya, the elder, looked to be near the end of pregnancy, and she stood clutching the hand of a man Nicholas took to be her husband. The younger girl, Tashi, about fifteen years or so, blushed and kept her eyes lowered. Then Vaslaw introduced Regin, Yngya’s husband.
When they were all seated, servants began bringing an assortment of foods, small portions on numerous plates, and Nicholas assumed they were to sample a little of everything. A variety of wines were poured into goblets at the right hand of each diner, to be sampled with different dishes.
As they dined, Nicholas waited for his host to begin discussions. The old man was silent throughout the first portion of dinner. Then Regin asked, ‘You’ve traveled far, Captain?’
Nicholas nodded. ‘Very far. I am among the first of my people to visit this city, I suspect.’
‘Are you from the Westlands?’ asked Yngya.
The continent of Novindus was roughly divided into thirds. The Eastlands, where they had landed, was comprised of the Hotlands, as the desert was called, and the Great Steppes, the home of the Jeshandi, as well as the City of the Serpent River. The Riverlands comprised the heart of the continent, being the most heavily populated portion of Novindus. The Vedra River ran southeast from the Sothu Mountains through this rich farm belt. To the west of the river was the Plain of Djams, a relatively inhospitable grassland populated by nomads, more primitive than the Jeshandi. Beyond was a gigantic range of mountains, the Ratn’gary – the Pavilion of the Gods – which ran north from the sea to the mighty Forest of Irabek, which lay between the Ratn’gary and the Sothu mountains. It was beyond this north-south barrier of mountains and forest that the Westlands lay. The average residents of the Eastlands knew little about the Westlands and those who lived there. Even less was known of the Island Kingdom of Pa’jkamaka, which lay five hundred miles beyond. Only a handful of bold traders had ever visited those distant cities.
Ghuda asked, ‘When is your baby due?’ freeing Nicholas from having to answer.
‘Soon,’ Yngya said with a smile.
As the first-course dishes were being cleared away, Nicholas said, ‘Vaslaw, you spoke last night of my need to understand some history.’
The old man nodded as he sucked out the last bit of a clam and put the shell on the plate so the servant could remove it. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Do you know much about the city’s history?’
Nicholas told him what he had learned so far, and the old man nodded. ‘For centuries, after we disposed of the Kings, the council of chieftains ruled well and the city was peaceful. Many old feuds were resolved, and we had many marriages between the clans, so that as time passed, we were forming a single people.’ He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘We are a very traditional people. In our own tongue, we are called Pashandi, which means “Righteous People”.’
‘You are kin to the Jeshandi,’ observed Amos.
‘That means “Free People”. But we are, simply, Shandi, “the People”. Old ways die hard for us. It is still important to be a hunter and warrior before all else. I am a trader of no small accomplishment, with ships and river caravans leaving and arriving year round. I’ve traded to the Westlands twice in my life, and once even reached the Kingdom of Pa’jkamaka, and to every city on the Vedra, but my wealth is of no importance in the council of my clan; it is my good eye and skill with a bow, my stalking and riding, my strength with a sword that earned me the right to rule.’
His son looked on with pride, as did his daughters and son-in-law. ‘But being first with a sword or bow or on horse does not mean a man is a wise ruler,’ said Vaslaw. ‘Many chieftains over the years did foolish things for reasons of pride and honor, and many times their clans suffered. The council had final rule in the city, but only a chieftain could rule those within his clan.’ He shook his head. ‘Then almost thirty years ago bad things began to happen.’
‘Bad things?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Rivalries became feuds, and blood was spilled and open warfare erupted between clans. There are fourteen clans of the Pashandi, Nicholas. At the height of the fighting, six clans – Bear, Wolf, Raven, Lion, Tiger, and Dog – were locked in a struggle with five others – Jackal, Horse, Bull, Rat, and Eagle. The Elk, Buffalo, and Badger attempted to remain outside the struggle, but they were being drawn in.
‘At the height of the fighting, a mercenary captain called Valgasha and his company seized the council building. He declared he was speaking for the non-clan people of the city and declared the bazaar and docks under his protection. He killed every clansman that came armed into those areas. He almost united the clans against him, but before we could mount our offensive, he sent couriers begging for truce. We met with him and he convinced myself and the other chieftains to end the fighting; he took the title Overlord. He’s acted as arbiter and peacemaker with the clans since then, though there have been many issues left unresolved over the years and the feuds continue.’
Nicholas said, ‘I was under the assumption he was the absolute ruler of the city.’
‘He is, but at that time he seemed a more reasonable alternative to constant fighting. As peace returned to the city, his hold increased. First he turned his mercenary company into a city watch, patrolling the bazaar and docks, then the merchants’ quarter. Next he created a standing army, elevating his oldest and most loyal soldiers to his private guard, “His Radiance’s Own,” and he expanded the old Kings’ palace and took it for his own. Then Dahakon appeared.’ Vaslaw almost spat the name. ‘That black-hearted, murderous swine has been responsible for the city’s becoming a principality with Valgasha as Prince. He created the Red Slayers, who are fanatics who need to be hacked to pieces, for they will not stop fighting once they are set loose.’
‘When did all this happen?’ asked Amos.
‘Twenty-seven years ago the trouble started; twenty-four years ago the Overlord became absolute.’
Nicholas glance
d at Amos, who nodded. Nicholas said, ‘What about this raid we blundered across?’
Vaslaw nodded to his son-in-law. Regin said, ‘Some of the younger warriors seek to undermine the Overlord’s domination by sabotaging his treaty with a trading consortium to the north, and they acted without permission from their chieftains.’
The old man sighed. ‘It was a foolish thing, no matter how bravely they acted. Such a setback is little more than an irritation to Valgasha.’
Nicholas said, ‘I think we have common cause. As I said, I think the Overlord or someone high in his court was responsible for the death of your sons.’ Nicholas retold the story he had told the night before, about the attack, the presence of the Red Slayer helm and the arrival of the Overlord’s personal soldiers, but with more detail.
It was Hatonis who asked the first question. ‘One thing: what were you doing there?’
Nicholas glanced at Ghuda, who shrugged, and Amos, who indicated Nicholas should speak on. Nicholas said, ‘I need your oath that what I tell you does not leave this room.’
Vaslaw nodded. Nicholas said, ‘I am the son of the Prince of Krondor.’
Hatonis said, ‘Father said your father ruled some city. I’ve never heard of Krondor. Is it in the Westlands, as my sister asked?’
‘No,’ answered Nicholas. He then spent the next hour telling them of the Kingdom of the Isles and the Empire of Great Kesh, of their journey across the water and the raids.
By the time he had finished, the meal was over and they lingered over brandies and sweetened coffee. Vaslaw said, ‘I will not call a guest in my home a liar, Nicholas, but I can scarcely credit your tale. I can imagine lands such as you describe, barely, as a storyteller’s device – far-reaching kingdoms and armies in the tens of thousands. But in real life? That I find impossible to believe. We’ve had our share of would-be conquerors in our past; at the time we were having our troubles, the Priest-King of Lanada attempted to conquer the other cities along the river. The Overlord allied with the Raj of Maharta to balk his ambitions. No, such men are always stopped.’
‘Not always,’ said Nicholas. ‘My ancestors were conquerors, though now they are heroes in our history.’ Glancing at Amos, he said, ‘But we wrote the history.’
Amos grinned. ‘Nicholas speaks only the truth. You will have to take ship and come visit someday, Vaslaw. You will find it strange, I am sure, but it is true.’
It was Regin who asked, ‘Very well, but what possible reason would some mysterious agency have to make war across such a vast ocean – the one we call the Blue Sea – for booty and slaves, when there are wealthy prizes so close here?’
Nicholas spoke to Vaslaw. ‘You said there were fourteen tribes and named them. Was there once a fifteenth?’
Vaslaw’s expression turned hard. He motioned to the servants to leave. Then he said to his other guests and his daughters, ‘You must leave as well.’
Tashi looked about to voice a protest over being excluded, but her father cut her off with a near shout: ‘Leave!’
When the room was empty save for Nicholas and his friends and Vaslaw, his son, and son-in-law, the old man said, ‘Hatonis is my last living male heir, and Regin shall be next chieftain when I die. But no other may hear further. What do you say, Nicholas?’
Nicholas dug the talisman from his pouch and handed it to Vaslaw. The old man looked hard at it and said, ‘The Snakes are back.’
Hatonis said, ‘Snakes, Father?’ Regin also looked confused.
The old man put the talisman down. ‘When I was a boy, my father who was Chieftain before me told me of the Snake Clan.’ He was silent for a while, then said, ‘Once we numbered a score of clans. Three died out, the Wolverine, Dragon, and Otter, and two others were destroyed in blood feud or war, the Hawk and Boar. In the memory of my grandfather’s father’s, the Snakes, like the rest of us, lived here in the city. There was betrayal, and a dishonor so black no man was permitted to speak of it, and the Snakes were hunted down – to the last man it was thought – and killed.’ His voice lowered. ‘Do you know what we mean when we say “to the last man”?’ Nicholas said nothing. ‘Every man, woman, and child who had Snake blood was hounded to earth and put to the sword, no matter how young or innocent. Brothers killed their own sisters who had married Snakes.’ He composed his thoughts. ‘You are aliens here, so there is much about the clans that you do not understand. We are one with our clan totems. Those of us who practiced magic took their form, and knew their wisdom. We spoke to them and they guided our young men on their vision quests. Something happened to the Snake Clan, which had once numbered among the mightiest. Something led them into darkness and evil ways, and they became anathema to their kin.’
Nicholas said, ‘Look at this.’ He produced the ring. ‘This was taken from the hand of a moredhel – kin of those you know as the “long-lived” – near my uncle’s home.’
Vaslaw looked at Nicholas a long time, then said, ‘What are you not telling me?’
Nicholas said, ‘There is one thing of which I may never speak, though it would cost my life. I’ve sworn an oath, as have my kin. But there is a reason we are connected, those who came with me across the sea, and you here, now. We have a common foe, and it is they who he behind all that has transpired, I am sure.’
‘Who?’ asked Hatonis. ‘The Overlord and Dahakon?’
‘Perhaps, but even beyond such as they,’ answered Nicholas. ‘What do you know of the Pantathian serpent priests?’
Vaslaw’s reaction was instantaneous. ‘Impossible! Now you spin more tales. They are creatures of legend. They live in a mysterious land, Pantathia, somewhere to the west – snakes who walk and speak like men. Such creatures do not exist save in tales told by mothers to frighten naughty children.’
Amos said, ‘They are not a legend.’ Vaslaw looked at the old sea captain. ‘I have seen one.’ He told them briefly of the siege of Armengar, when Murmandamus marched against the Kingdom.
‘Again I’m tempted to call a guest in my house a liar,’ said Vaslaw.
Amos grinned and there was no warmth in it. ‘Resist the temptation, my friend. I’ve been known to spin a tale now and again, but on this you have my oath: it’s true. And no man has ever called me oath breaker and lived.’
Nicholas said, ‘I know nothing of your customs, as you’ve observed. But could it have been in the ancient days that this oneness with their totem could make the Snake Clan vulnerable to the influences of the Pantathians?’
‘No one living knows what horror caused the obliteration of the Snake Clan, Nicholas. That dark secret died with those Chieftains who obliterated them.’
Nicholas said, ‘But whatever that terrible deed was, it could have been something to do with the Pantathians, correct?’
The old man looked shaken. ‘But if the snake people are at the root of these current problems, how do we resist? They are phantoms, and no man here has seen one. Do we ride in all directions seeking them?’
‘We are not without hope,’ said Amos.
‘Why?’ asked Regin.
‘Because I’ve also seen a Pantathian die.’
Nicholas said, ‘They are mortal creatures. I don’t know yet what their plans are, and I know only that my purpose must be to find those taken from my homeland and return them. But in so doing, I believe that simple act will frustrate these snake creatures, and bring them looking for me.’
Vaslaw said, ‘What would you have of the Lion Clan?’
‘For the moment, peace,’ said Nicholas. ‘I would be happy to see you avenge yourselves upon those responsible for the death of your people. It would be in keeping with my purpose, I am sure. And I may need your help.’
‘If we can, we will,’ said the old man. ‘Each chieftain in his turn must swear many oaths when accepting his office, but one oath is especially stressed, above all but protecting the clan to death. That oath is to hunt down any Snake. It is said as ritual, and no chieftain in four generations expected to honor it.’ He fingered the snake
talisman. ‘Until now.’
Calis crouched low behind a hedge that shielded him from a large building. He had already explored several other buildings, locating an armory, a storage complex, a kitchen complex, and servants’ quarters that were deserted. There were signs that until recently these buildings had been in use. Another kitchen complex was being utilized, and a great deal of food was being prepared, which puzzled the half-elf, as the main house was mostly dark. Only one area seemed occupied if the lights in the windows were an indication.
He had followed a pair of men dressed in black, wearing red cloths tied on their heads, who carried hot stew in buckets from that kitchen. They had entered the large building, admitted through double doors by similarly dressed guards carrying swords and bows.
Calis inspected the wall from his vantage point. The building was without windows. It looked like nothing so much as a large warehouse. He glanced around, seeking any sight of anyone else lurking nearby, then sprinted for the wall. With a prodigious leap he jumped straight to the top of the tile roof.
And almost fell down over the other side. The building was a hollow square, a covered hallway surrounding a large open court. The roof was narrow and peaked, no more than fifteen feet wide, shingled in red tiles over what was some sort of storage area.
Crouching down, he peered into the gloom, his more-than-human eyes showing him clearly what was in the courtyard. Elven-reared to hold his emotions within, he was nevertheless shaken by what he saw. His hand gripped his bow tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
More than a hundred prisoners lay shackled to heavy wooden pallets under the sky. While the season was spring, it was still cold at night. Those down below showed the ravages of being kept outside. They were haggard and gaunt and many were obviously ill. From the number of empty pallets, more than half those taken from the Far Coast had died.
Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer Page 86
