The ragged man tr-4

by Tom Lloyd

  'In that case she's got more balls than the rest of the Circle City,' Gaur said.

  'We knew that before the invasion.' Styrax rubbed his hands over his face, trying to massage away the ache behind his eyes. 'Nonetheless, it's a timely reminder. Our schedule does not allow for grief.'

  'The dragon? I've heard it's battered Ismess into submission as effectively as Lord Larim was going to.'

  Styrax nodded. 'I hadn't expected that, a dragon staying so close to human habitation. The spell that kept it sleeping must not have been as accomplished as its creator intended – unless she's more of a vicious bitch than we had heard. Its mind must be permanently damaged.'

  'Wouldn't be the only one,' Gaur added with a twitch of his black mane. 'Word from Byora says the mercenary, Aracnan, has lost his mind; the poison's driven him mad. Chade suspects it's seadiamond venom.'

  The huntsman bowed to Styrax when his name was mentioned. He was a small man, and his pinched, battered face made his age difficult to gauge. A hard life had left its mark: his teeth were yellowed, misaligned, and several were missing, and his cheeks were pitted with smallpox scars. On such a face the eager expression he was displaying looked far from natural.

  'Don' know it well misself o'course, but I remember hearin' about it years back. Damn stuff's easy t'cure, so they say; supposedly alcohol kills it, so prob'ly all you'd need is to get yersel' blind drunk – but magic, that excites the stuff, makes it work faster – '

  'So it's perfect for killing mages,' Styrax finished. 'How very like King Emin. His inventiveness is not to be underestimated; something to bear in mind when we march west.'

  'West? You mean after we've dealt with the Devoted?' Gaur asked.

  'After several things,' Styrax agreed. 'Chade, there's wine over there, pour us all a cup.' When the man was out of immediate earshot, Styrax asked, 'Apotheosis?' He gave Gaur a meaningful look.

  'Yes, my Lord,' the general replied. 'He knows a little – not all – and I believe he's the man to run it.'

  'Good. I don't have the energy to speak in code.'

  The huntsman returned balancing three goblets. General Gaur took one and Chade handed the second to Lord Styrax. He waited for the Menin lord's nod before raising the goblet to his lips.

  'It's time for the next phase of our conquest,' Styrax said after a moment. 'Duke Vrill is scouting the northeast, sounding out the remaining Knights of the Temples. Embere is the weaker of their two cities there, so Vrill is focused on Raland and General Telith Vener. The Knight-Cardinal is confined to quarters, and I doubt the general will be over-eager to liberate the only man to outrank him in the Order.'

  'Not if Vrill offers him the right deal,' Gaur agreed. Vener would most likely accept a title; he'd rule over both cities as the Menin vassal happily enough. Duke Chaist, the ruler of Embere, wouldn't be so happy, but his army had been mauled pretty comprehensively by Vener's men the previous summer. The Menin's recently recruited Chetse legions would help solve any future argument there.

  'In the meantime, a little confusion among the Devoted here would be a good idea. Start Apotheosis in Akell, then send word back to your men in the Chetse cities. The north is going to be more of a challenge, but it's important they head there too – it's the body-count that matters, and there are a lot of targets in the Farlan cities.'

  Chade, aware of the significance of drinking with his lord, ventured to ask, 'We holdin' off in Tor Salan for the time bein'?' He didn't know much about Apotheosis, but he was aware that this secret undertaking was the principal driving force behind the Menin lord's invasion of the West, and the rewards for those involved would be commensurately great.

  'There's been enough bloodshed there, for the present at least,' Styrax said. 'The city's unstable right now, and this is a long-term operation. There will be time enough for Tor Salan next year, if it's needed – our final phase will not take place before next summer, at the earliest. Send your agents to Sautin and Mustet to continue Apotheosis there, then have them work their way further west.' Styrax paused. 'I hope I don't need to remind you that you must be careful about whom you select for this operation.'

  Chade nodded hard. 'All in hand, my Lord. At the general's orders I've bin pickin' soldiers out've the stockade all this last year. They's an evil bunch; half of 'em would cut a man's throat for lookin' funny at him, so they'll bloody jump at the bounty you're offerin'. Piety'll be the least o' my problems.'

  'Good. Keep them in close teams and have them led by men with sense, preferably your huntsmen. We want this done properly, and that means covering your tracks and ensuring any suspicion is directed elsewhere. If you need to kill rival priests, the bounty will be paid on them too.'

  Styrax raised a warning finger to Chade. 'I want it made damned clear: they follow orders and be careful, and they'll be rewarded the rest of their days. If they're sloppy or lazy there'll be a bounty on their heads big enough that even the mothers who bore them will be eager to claim it.'

  'What about the Mortal-Aspect?' Gaur said. 'He can't be ignored.'

  'Agreed. We need a Raylin to deal with the problem, and a powerful one at that. Aracnan would have been my first choice, but it appears he's no longer an option.'

  'Aye, he's dead, that'un,' said Chade eagerly, 'or leastways as far as our use goes, and if he survives, he won't be the man he once were. Smart money is on a slow an' painful march to the Herald's hall for that'un.'

  'Then the Poisonblade is our best alternative, don't you agree?'

  General Gaur's tusks rasped through the bristles on his cheeks. He hated all Elves, instinctively, down at the very basest level, for no reason he could explain. Styrax had told him his own private theory: that Gaur's ancestry included some of the warrior races created to fight in the Great War. 'What will be his price?' the general said at last.

  'I think we can safely assume it will be high. Offer him Lord Chalat's sword. It's one of his race's ancient relics, after all. I'm sure Major Amber will understand; I will provide compensation for the loss of his spoils.'

  'I will instruct Larim to begin negotiations.' Gaur finished his wine before adding, 'So: our goal is to have severely diminished numbers in the Circle City, the Chetse lands, the southwestern states and the Farlan lands by the coming winter.'

  'By which point,' Styrax went on, 'we should be getting established in Narkang territory, with the aim of implementing Apotheosis there some time the following summer. '

  'But we do nothing about the Farlan Army?' Gaur asked. 'We gave them a mauling, but they're a long way from beaten, and not pressing the advantage for a whole year gives them time to regroup, recover and rebuild numbers – more than we can deal with if Narkang isn't beaten by winter.'

  'We can stir trouble up there with minimal effort. They're currently leaderless; that's means they're likely to be arguing amongst themselves all the time we're hunting in the west. We'll buy some suzerains and that'll help to further undermine Farlan unity. But you do have a point; perhaps we should send a peace envoy now, to give them one more thing to disagree about, and stall them further? I've a long way to go before I complete my collection; there's no rush here.' His hand went to a pouch hanging from his sword belt. It held something the size of a man's fist.

  'Is that why we're going west?' Gaur asked, surprised. 'All because of dodgy intelligence provided by some low-grade necromancer that King Emin has the Skull of Ruling?'

  Styrax shook his head. 'The conquest comes first, although it won't hurt to see if we can prise it from him. When we do move, ensure a messenger has gone to speak to the king in advance – perhaps he'll barter it away since he's no mage himself.'

  Gaur felt sceptical, but it would cost them nothing to try. 'There's one more for the taking, much closer,' he pointed out.

  'Aracnan, yes,' Styrax said, 'but let's not move yet. Zhia and Koezh will doubtless be watching him carefully. They know I have several Skulls already, and if I look too keen to kill Aracnan they will feel threatened for their own.' He gave a humo
urless snort. 'Besides, right now I have a dragon to kill. Aracnan can be next week's problem.'

  Knight-Cardinal Horel Certinse, head of the Knights of the Temples, glowered and paced restlessly as he demanded, 'What news of the other quarters, Captain?' He'd been unable to concentrate or sit still all day.

  Captain Perforren reported, 'Nothing of great interest, sir. Akell has seen more of note than anywhere else today.' The tall soldier glanced nervously at the door whenever he heard a sound elsewhere in the townhouse. It was a modest building for the Knight-Cardinal and his staff to be confined to, and the attendant priests installed as his 'spiritual advisors' to monitor Certinse's activities made it even more cramped.

  The Knight-Cardinal stopped dead and frowned. 'What do you mean?' His house-arrest was making him feel powerless and frustrated, emotions he was quite unused to.

  'The duchess came to petition Lord Styrax, so I've heard. He made her wait several hours, but he did eventually admit her to his august presence.'

  'Yet I am ignored by even Styrax's subordinates?' Certinse scowled. 'This cannot just be grief, or Styrax showing me my place. That I am so cut off must be of more significance. Does he not care at all about going to war with Raland and Embere? Could he have secured an alliance with that worm Vener without me knowing?' He looked at Perforren and shook his head. 'No, the Serian still reports to me, however gutted the Devout Congress has left it.'

  He walked to the window and looked out for a moment. The captain could see his commander muttering silently; he glanced suspiciously at Perforren for a moment before resuming his pacing.

  Perforren wasn't worried by the look; the Knights of the Temples were in chaos and his lord was right to be fearful of everyone. He'd just reminded himself that Perforren could be trusted absolutely – one of the few of his men who could. They were both Farlan originally, and Perforren was the son of a loyal family retainer who had been with the Knight-Cardinal since before Lord Bahl had banned the Order from Farlan lands.

  Every officer of the Knights of the Temples had to be ordained as a priest – to the God of their choice – before being allowed to command troops, a time-honoured tradition that had served them well over the centuries. It didn't necessarily mean a lifetime of study and prayer, but it did ensure no one joined the Order lightly, and there was responsibility on both sacred and secular levels. The majority of the officers lived relatively secular lives, but the Gods' influence was there nonetheless. Unfortunately for Certinse, the specific God to whom they made their commitment was not made public, and the records were nowhere to hand.

  Each of those turned into rabid fanatics by the rage of the Gods were aligned to one of the six principal Gods of Scree, that much he had deduced. How to tell who among his officers was secretly aligned to the various factions of fanatics was something he had yet not worked out, but he knew Perforren was, like him, a devotee of Anviss, and thus unaffected.

  'Six more men were executed by High Priest Garash,' the captain said grimly after minute's silence. 'Three for whoring, two for gambling, one for some non-specified reason.'

  'Damn the man,' Certinse said. 'He's not even bothering to follow the Codex of Ordinance any more. I'd hoped I could use its rules to curtail his excesses.' He threw up his hands in disgust. 'Karkarn's tears, what am I reduced to? I must ask you to hide in here when I retire so that bastard priest doesn't have to insist on being present; I'm surprised they're not whispering we are…' His voice tailed off as he sank down onto the side of his bed.

  'By the Dark Place, we cannot continue this way. The Order will tear itself apart if we do.'

  'I've been speaking to those sergeants I trust, sir' – he broke off and raised a hand at Certinse's alarmed expression – 'only those I know well, I assure you, and asking in only the most general of terms. The enlisted men are unhappy with what's going on, but they're Godsfearing, and it's going to take more than Garash's harsh punishments before they even think of rising up against the priests. There's talk of informers being recruited into every squad, men who will only take orders from priests – '

  'Gods, has it come to this, when we must murder our own?' Certinse shook his head in despair.

  'I… I may have a solution, sir,' Perforren said hesitantly.

  Certinse looked at him, but the captain looked down at his hands, saying nothing. After a few moments, Certinse said softly, 'Well, Captain? What is it?'

  The anxiety was plain on his long face. His bloodshot eyes moved towards the door and back again.

  Certinse got up and moved closed to his aide. 'Captain?'

  'Sir – ' He swallowed, and started again, 'You probably haven't heard, but there are beggars and the like gathering outside the gates of the Ruby Tower. They believe the child, Ruhen, has been sent to intercede for them with the Gods. Since the clerics' revolt, and then the duchess locking down Hale district, the numbers outside the tower have increased every day.'

  'Ruhen? The child taken in by the duchess?' Certinse's hand fell to his sword hilt and a look of suspicion crossed his face. 'Are we to replace one mortal power over us for another?'

  'No, sir, but perhaps the men might be more willing to act if they have a figure to inspire them?' Perforren suggested. 'They say the child gives men heart with a mere look. Right now our men are feeling frightened, and abandoned by the Gods. They are men in search of salvation.'

  From the look on Certinse's face Perforren saw his words had had the right effect. The Order's self-appointed mission was to provide the prophesied Saviour with an army. For more than a century, this is what it had been working towards. Normally soldiers were resistant to change, but if the dogma was already built into the Order's rituals, it would be accepted more easily.

  'It would explain why the duchess and her bodyguard fussed so over the child,' he said after a while. 'To Ghenna with them all! I will not let a rabble of clerics take the Order from me, not while I still draw breath.'

  Perforren inclined his head in agreement but before he could speak there was a soft knock at the door. The two men exchanged looks, and Perforren shook his head, indicating that he knew nothing of the arrival.

  At his commander's gesture he went to open the door to a Litse man with a thin, washed-out face and long white robes too rough and badly cut to belong to a priest.

  'Good evening, Knight-Cardinal,' the man said with a small smile and a bow.

  'Who in Ghenna's name are you?' Certinse exclaimed. He looked at Perforren, but his captain still looked blank. His expression turned fearful as he took in the long white robes.

  'My name is Luerce, Knight-Cardinal,' said the visitor. 'I am blessed to number among Ruhen's Children.'

  Certinse grabbed Perforren roughly by the shoulder. 'What did you do, you fool?' he demanded.

  Perforren gaped in helpless astonishment.

  It was Luerce who answered for him. 'He did nothing – at least as far as I am aware, anyway,' said the Litse. 'I heard the Knights of the Temples were making enquiries and I decided it was time to pay you a visit.'

  'This is all coincidence? I do not believe in coincidence!' Certinse snapped.

  'Ah, but a fortuitous one, by the looks on your faces.'

  'We were just discussing the child,' Certinse said, determined to give no more away.

  Luerce's face blossomed into happiness. 'He does so love new friends. However, I doubt that had I come yesterday instead, our conversation would have been any different – '

  'Wait a moment,' Perforren interrupted, finding his voice at last. 'How did you even get inside the building? We're under house arrest, and we are watched by both Menin troops and clerical spies.'

  Luerce stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked sly and he answered, 'How? Let us just say that shadows are kind to me.'

  CHAPTER 6

  Camatayl Castle stood south of the eastern end of the Blue Hills, which stretched between Narkang and Aroth. Camatayl, an unlovely and unloved structure that looked increasingly grim with every pas
sing year, had been built by one of the more effective warlords in that area, but it now occupied a part of Emin Thonal's kingdom that had no need of such a fortress. By contrast Kamfer's Ford, a prosperous market town, flourished half a mile to the north, on the lower ground, where the King's Highway met the river.

  The castle comprised a main square tower, built on the highest point for miles around, with walls as thick as one might expect of a castle that had survived two hundred years in troubled parts, and a much smaller tower beside the single gate. The steward lived in the smaller tower with his family and a handful of retainers. While useless for defending King Emin's new nation, he recognised that Camatayl would be a fine base for anyone plotting insurrection, so the royal warrant had been given to a loyal knight rather than the local suzerain. However proud the man was of his new appointment as Steward of Camatayl, he knew the king expected of him first and foremost a visible lack of ambition, and he was careful to ensure he had nothing to fear from the King's Men who regularly passed through Kamfer's Ford. The main tower was used only by the royal couple on their travels; the rest of the time it remained a brooding reminder of unhappy times past.

  Legana and her two companions arrived at Kamfer's Ford just as evening settled in, and their first thought was to find the inn recommended by another traveller along the way. They were an unusual trio to be travelling alone, but it didn't take them long to realise the odd looks they were receiving were not just curiosity: there was a strange air in the town's streets.

  At the door of the inn, Ardela laid a hand on Legana's arm to catch her attention. 'Wait; let me check the bar first,' she said quietly.

  Legana looked at her, then past Ardela and up the street, head tilted. Ardela was beginning to recognise that pose – she had as fine a nose for trouble as any devotee of the Lady, but Legana possessed some sixth sense now, a divine form of a dog's ability to smell fear.