'I don't see we need to know that, not to fight them,' said Caid robustly.
'While they fight us with magic,' retorted Safar. 'How do we fight that?'
Anxious, Coron nodded. 'We don't have enough talismans to turn magic aside from one in ten of our warriors. If we look to other domains to trade for the relevant gems, they'll simply strip us of everything we could offer.'
Those are Ulla Safar's words in your mouth, aren't they?
'I doubt it.' Kheda set his jaw. 'Not when we're stopping this flood of malice before it reaches their shores.'
'You think they'll credit our claims of magic blowing up from the southern ocean like some whirlwind out of season?' Safar shook his head. 'Do you want to try convincing Tule Nar, Viselis Us, even Endit Fels? There's no record of magic in any of our islands within time of memory.'
'It's the northernmost domains are plagued by wizards, not us.' Coron glanced back over his shoulder to seek his slave's confirmation.
'I still find it hard to believe myself.' Safar's tone turned sceptical. 'Are you sure this wasn't some delusion, some drug in your drinking water, some dreamsmoke blown across your sleeping ships?'
'Believe it,' Kheda said coldly. 'Before the roofs of your own fortress run with sorcerous fire.'
'Are you sure this isn't all some deception, some trickery?' Coron pleaded.
Kheda looked straight at him, unblinking. 'No delusion ripped Atoun's face off and showered me in his life's blood. No smoke burned Olkai's hand to a charred claw and left her dying through days of unconscionable suffering. We can summon Chazen Itrac to tell us of her experiences if you choose not to believe me, though I should warn you, Janne Daish will not be pleased to see her put through such an ordeal.'
He turned his gaze on Safar. 'Who would make such a pretence, that his domain was being invaded and polluted by magic? Chazen Saril? What could he possibly hope to gain?'
'Who knows, indeed?' Safar stared back at him with level indifference. 'I suggest you go back to your islands and prepare to meet this threat. I shall make ready to deal with it as and when it touches my domain. It may be that they find whatever they seek among the people of Chazen and don't even bother us.'
'But how do we deal with magic if they do come north?' Coron was definitely agitated on that score, even ignoring his attendant slave, who plainly wanted to whisper something.
'I don't imagine a magician is any more proof against an arrow through the eye or a sword in the throat than any other man.' Safar shrugged. 'How many could he kill before one of ours got through and ended his evil? I have plenty of men to throw at him.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' said Kheda. 'They will all be needed in the south.'
'How do you know these magic wielders are not proof against swords and arrows?' Redigal Coron looked nauseated. 'Ancient lore tells of magic making men impervious to iron and slingshot, fire and drowning.'
'Then let us search that same lore for any clue as to how such magic was defeated,' Caid suggested forcefully.
'It is the question of magic's taint that worries me,' said Safar silkily. 'I owe my people a duty of care to keep them safe from any such contamination.'
'I have always believed in the innocence of those unwillingly touched by magic,' Kheda said firmly.
'As have I,' nodded Caid.
'Whereas so many of my books argue otherwise.' Safar shook his head with a fine show of regret. 'Purification is a chancy business at best. Those who go to fight may well find themselves exiled from their own islands.'
'It's a debate with cogent argument on either side.' As Redigal Coron spoke, his slave leant forward with some whispered contribution.
'All the more reason not to run the risk, until my own waters are threatened,' sighed Safar.
'You think your people will thank you for dallying with philosophical questions until they wake up with magic besieging them?' retorted Caid.
You think I'll believe you'll be studying your annals and all those fine tomes of argument and observation, when you're all but illiterate and, worse yet, you see no shame in it, you greasy, sweating hog, no disgrace in substituting brutality for wisdom in order to rule this vast domain?
Kheda studied Safar's cunning face. Beneath the bearded jowls, he saw the other man's jaw was resolute, dislike of Kheda shining in his pale eyes.
I could sit here and talk until the sun has set and both moons come and gone and you will never agree to fight these unknown invaders. I could bring Itrac here and make her relive every terrified breath of her ordeal and all that would do would titillate your taste for women in distress. Telouet's told me how you like bruises on your concubines. You'll lurk here in this great fortress like some toad beneath a rock and watch every domain to your south fall to these foul magicians; happy to see your rivals fall even to such a foe. You'll only fight when magic threatens the Ulla domain, you fool.
Then a horrible suspicion chilled Kheda's spine.
Or will you fight? Or if you find out whatever it is these evil invaders seek, will you look to trade it for peace across your domain? You won't care if every other island in the southern seas is corrupted with magic, as long as your own fiefdom stays untouched to pander to your repellent whims.
Kheda studied the myriad sprawling tendrils of green vines and darker leaves that coiled across the ruddy silk nap of the carpet, blue logen blooms dotted seemingly haphazardly with white trumpet flowers and tangles of yellow firecreeper.
'A carpet can look like nothing more than a muddle of motifs that caught the weaver's fancy as he worked his way up the loom. You never see a weaver copying a pattern, after all, and you can't see any decoration used the same way twice within arm's reach of where you're sitting, can you? Stand back, my son, and separate the essentials, follow each different element. Then you'll see the patterns hidden from the untutored eye by those that overlay them.'
Kheda looked away down the fine lattice of dark vines worked aslant over the whole carpet, trumpet flowers and firecreeper weaving their own design through empty spaces.
He looked at Safar and then Redigal Coron. 'There is another course of action we could consider.'
'Let's hear it!' Ritsem Caid's desperation betrayed his own realisation that Ulla Safar wasn't going to shift his ground.
'Even after seeing these monsters, we know nothing of magic beyond the evil it brings in its train.' Kheda swallowed on a dry mouth. 'As you say, we have seen no wizards in these reaches for time out of mind. There are domains in the northern islands that have not been so fortunate. We've all heard of barbarian raids to steal spice bushes and slaves, to plunder merchant galleys plying between domains.'
'That's nothing to us.' Safar made to rise but his own gross weight and the treacherous silk of the cushions betrayed him. Unwilling to lose his dignity in further struggle, he subsided, cruel eyes all but disappearing in a scowl.
'My father told me that, in days gone by, the wizard-plagued domains closest to the unbroken lands would pander to barbarian lusts for gem stones, paying for peace instead of shedding Archipelagan blood, until they could drive off those invaders made bold by magic' Kheda was heartened to see Caid caught by this unexpected notion. The slave behind Coron was watching him intently too. 'Could we not ask those northern warlords to share what they learned of driving off wizardry, of forestalling the stain of magic on their lands?'
'That would truly be a desperate step,' said Caid with distaste.
'Aren't these desperate times?' countered Kheda.
Redigal Coron nodded slowly, face sombre, as the white-haired slave knelt forward with some whispered comment. 'Might we not find ourselves caught between fire and flood, though, if these northern warlords thought lending such aid gave them a claim on our lands?'
'I would never consider such a course. Their spies would search out every seaway, every island's wealth and resources. You might as well cut your son's throat and offer up your daughter, her ankles tied wide to her bedposts!' Safar's outrage echoed loud in the great h
all but none of the other warlords were looking at him.
'How would any lord from the furthest north launch an attack, with the whole Archipelago between us?' Kheda looked at Coron. 'Besides, I believe they would settle for us halting this tide of evil. Under constant threat of wizards from the unbroken lands, I doubt they'd relish some magical assault from the south.'
'My father told me that the northern lords drove out the barbarian wizards by hiring sorcerers of their own,' hissed Safar venomously.
'I have read that they managed to set the wizards fighting among themselves,' Coron said unexpectedly.
'Fighting fire with fire?' Kheda mused. 'We've all done that.'
'Which would make the Chazen domain our firebreak,' said Caid grimly.
'The land is already tainted with magic,' Coron acknowledged.
'Then go and raise a real fire,' snapped Safar. 'Burn every island and reef to bare earth and blackened stumps and leave the invaders' bones lying splintered among them.'
'You don't suppose these wild men and their wizards might oppose such an attack?' Caid's sarcasm was withering.
'What do you suppose the northern lords would ask from us in return for their lore?' Coron looked uncertainly from Kheda to Caid.
'Steel, most certainly' Safar shot a pointed look at Ritsem Caid. 'All that we could spare and more besides, I don't doubt.'
'Let us—' A resounding knock interrupted Kheda.
He narrowed his eyes at Safar, who didn't bother to hide his smugness. 'Enter.'
It was the fawning, smooth-faced lackey. 'My lady Mirrel sends her compliments and asks that you grace her reception with your presence.'
What signal summoned you, seen through some hidden spy hole, as soon as Safar saw control of this debate slipping out of his grasp?
Kheda risked a knowing glance at Caid but the Ritsem warlord didn't notice, face stony, eyes inward-looking. Redigal Coron was seizing the opportunity to confer hurriedly with his attendant slave. Ulla Safar's body slave had the unenviable task of hauling his master to his feet.
'We will not disappoint my lady Mirrel.' The fat man heaved a sigh and wiped sweat from his forehead. 'We would all do better to think on these matters before we talk again.' He strode from the room, scowling ferociously.
'My lord.' On his feet the instant etiquette allowed, Telouet stood before Kheda and offered a hand.
Kheda waved his help away, raising an enquiring eyebrow. With the minimum of expression, Telouet managed to convey the equivalent of a shrug.
So you have no more idea than me how much progress we may have made.
Ritsem Caid's expression gave nothing away and his slave Ganil's face might have been carved out of the same ironwood as the pillars as the two of them stalked out. Redigal Coron was still talking to his softly spoken zamorin, bodyguard hovering uncertainly. Kheda saw the door wards listening with blatant curiosity.
Telouet followed his gaze. 'It seems liberal use of the lash is no guarantee of a well-mannered household, my lord.' His comment was just loud enough to reach the door wards.
'It is not your place to comment on another domain's practices.' Kheda's rebuke was perfunctory at best. 'Let's pay our respects to Mirrel Ulla and see if she at least will show us proper courtesy.'
'Do you want to change your clothes?' Telouet asked as they passed the door wards.
'It's not as if I've worked up much of a sweat.' Kheda shook his head. 'If we delay, we'll be hearing barbed comments about tardiness from Mirrel until we leave for home.'
Let one of the spies infesting this ant heap carry that kernel of gossip to her.
Telouet nodded discreetly to indicate the stairway they should take. 'Ritsem Caid and Redigal Coron show every sign of seeking help from the north.' He spoke just low enough to suggest a confidence but loud enough for listening ears.
'Not that they would want to, any more than we of Daish,' Kheda sighed. 'Let's hope we find some better alternatives tomorrow.'
Surely Safar will back down and form an alliance so we can drive out these invaders ourselves? He cannot risk losing his influence to unknown warlords who might well covet the riches of his domain, once they're invited into these reaches.
'East here, my lord.'
As Telouet muttered directions through the maze of corridors, Kheda found himself speculating what might happen if Ulla Safar did remain obdurate.
Janne warned you the fat toad would call your bluff, so she's won that wager. But what if it wasn't a bluff? Could there possibly be some honourable northern warlord who could tell us how to drive out this threat of magic. Could we find an ally strong enough to overthrow Ulla Safar when this is all over? Maybe you and Caid should investigate the possibility. You could trust each other in such an alliance, limited to a single objective, division of the spoils agreed in advance? But who would get this island and the massive strength of Derasulla? Do you hate Safar enough to see the Ritsem domain add such power to its own? A difficult question. Caid would certainly never let it pass to Daish, that's easy enough to see.
Such musings carried Kheda through the long corridors and up several flights of stairs. The Ulla wives all had apartments facing up river and, as first wife, Mirrel Ulla commanded an imposing suite on the very highest level where the air was freshened with the scents of the distant hills. Women slaves in lewdly diaphanous gowns and gaudy enamels simpered a welcome at the door.
'I see Safar has a new set of concubines to flaunt,' Kheda remarked to Telouet as they approached.
'I wonder where the old ones washed up downstream,' the slave murmured grimly.
They entered the room and Mirrel Ulla turned from windows that reached from floor to ceiling, opening on to a broad terrace shaded by diligently tended nut palms and perfume trees in ornate pots. Kheda stood where he might catch a breeze but the air was hotter than ever.
'My lord Daish, you grace our humble home with your presence.' A woman of moderate height and slender build, Mirrel advanced, arms outstretched, wrists laden with golden bracelets.
'No room could be called humble with you to adorn it.' Kheda took her hands and bent to brush them with his lips, careful not to catch any of her ornate rings in his beard.
Mirrel laughed prettily, laying an ebony hand across the breast of a black silk gown covered with tiny glass beads sewn into the patterns of feathers, as if some fabulous bird, every silver feather edged with gold, had been trapped and plucked. The bodice slid from silver to gilt with every breath she took, low-cut and close-fitted to display arms and bosom with calculated seduction, though the swell of her breasts was all but invisible beneath a convoluted necklace studded with sizeable diamonds. The skirt shimmered, made from separate lengths of cloth worked into individual gleaming plumes, all the better to display her elegant legs.
Your spies obviously told you Janne arrived displaying all the wealth and power of the Daish domain.
Mirrel's eyes looked beyond him, their hardness making a nonsense of the soft appeal of her artfully painted lips. 'Ritsem Caid! You are welcome, so very welcome, and Taisia!'
Kheda bowed and stepped away, releasing Mirrel to advance on Caid. Redigal Coron and his senior wife followed soon after and she quickly gathered him into their circle. Moni Redigal with her sizeable retinue headed for the junior Ulla wives who were gathered in a watchful knot, their own gowns similar in cut to Mirrel's but bare of beads, merely brocaded in feather patterns. The noise in the room rose as attendant body slaves allowed their masters and mistresses a little leeway, drawing aside to share their own news with each other, tolerating the intrusion of Derasulla's senior slaves as necessary.
Kheda glanced appreciatively around in order not to catch anyone's gaze and oblige himself to conversation before Janne arrived. The audience room was certainly worth admiring. Sandalwood shutters on the windows were the finest the island's carvers could supply and the cinnamon-coloured floorboards were waxed to glossy perfection underfoot. The walls were tiled; all the better to display the domain's other
highly prized craft to visitors.
Mirrel's rooms boasted the lustre tiles that were so sought after in trade. Guests entered through a wall where golden tiles shaded imperceptibly to a sunset hue on one side and a fertile green on the other. As Kheda turned slowly towards the windows, he saw green sliding towards an airy blue on the one hand, orange blushing to soft red on the other. In the spaces between the tall windows, the advancing colours blurred into a dusky violet. With the delicacy of the pigments used, the effect was both subtle and eye-catching.
It's like being wrapped in a rainbow, a fine symbol for Mirrel, with its contradictions between blessing and caprice.
'My lord.' Telouet appeared with a crystal goblet.
'I notice neither our rooms nor Janne's have any of these lustre tiles,' Kheda remarked in an undertone. 'Do you suppose that's some insult? Should we seem oblivious or devise some retaliation?'
'Ask my lady Janne,' Telouet suggested.
'Kheda.' Moni Redigal appeared at his elbow, smiling cheerfully. 'How does that slave suit Dau? I do hope Rekha is pleased with him. How is she? How are the little ones?' Moni Redigal's appearance was nicely calculated not to outstrip her hostess but at the same time to make the room's decoration a backdrop to her own. She made a fine display of a warlord's wife, in gold silk shot with silver and wearing a rainbow array of gem-studded necklaces and bracelets.
Do I thank you for supplying a pair of competent hands to raise swords between my family and any invaders while I play Ulla Safar's pointless games?
'He seems entirely suitable, thank you. Rekha is well and all the children.' Kheda smiled back.
'I must write to Rekha.' Moni sipped before looking a little puzzled at her goblet. 'One of my sisters has married into the Kithir domain. I am to visit her soon and she may well be interested in trading Kithir carpets for pearls.' Born quite some distance to the north where crossing trade routes mingled many bloodlines, Moni was paler-skinned than all but the barbarian slaves in the room, her tight curled hair a distinctive russet.
'How far north do your trading contacts reach nowadays?' Kheda asked idly.
Southern Fire ac-1 Page 19
