Tooth and Blade

by Shad Callister

  Damicos nodded. “Well, not entirely unscathed. But it’s thanks to him that we’re in here while he and his dogs are not. You were out cold, and it was the word of the precious, noble, bleeding cavalrymen against a lone hoplite from Ulsire province, farmer for a father. Hardly a contest in the eyes of the governor’s men.”

  Pelekarr laughed harshly. “You should’ve stayed out of it, commoner.”

  Damicos smirked. “Their rich blood ran as red on the floor as that of any man.” He yawned. “I half expected it to be blue, or perhaps pristine white.”

  Pelekarr scowled to himself. “Chiss Felca lives, but by all the gods, he will die within the year. I swear it.” He moodily kicked at the wall. “Little can be done from in here, though.”

  “Give it a few more hours. They don’t know what to do with us yet, I think. We’re officers, after all, but there’s no military left to turn us over to for a court martial. So they took our weapons but left us our armor and our pride. If we get a chance to plead our case as a righteous duel of honor instead of a drunken revenge killing, we may yet see the outside of this place in a day or two. It’s Spatha’s decision now, and he seems a reasonable fellow.”

  Pelekarr spun to face the infantryman. “What did you say?”

  “Well, he seemed reasonable enough when I heard him make a speech yesterday morning in the square.”

  “Who?”

  “Lord Governor Spatha.”

  “Spatha is no more than a deputy. Dremmel is governor.”

  “No. Aro Dremmel’s last official act was to appoint Vilcos Spatha to the governorship, before bolting with the rest. Jumped on the last ship out of Belsoria. Spatha’s been governor now for three days.”

  Pelekarr smiled and rapped loudly several times on the cell door. “The gods will have their little joke. Spatha’s governor, eh? That changes things.”

  Damicos stared at him, curious. “What’s changed?”

  “Our luck,” Pelekarr said.”

  And within the hour, it did.

  “Pelekarr! Rukhal’s beard, Pelekarr, it’s good to see you!”

  Lord Governor Spatha rose from his chair and walked around his desk with open arms. Pelekarr, grinning, did the same, and the two embraced. Spatha pounded the slimmer man’s back despite the bronze armor, then drew back to hold the captain at arm’s length.

  “The gods are good!” He laughed. “I’ve not seen you for, what? Two, three years? Hah! I swear you’ve grown taller!”

  Pelekarr kept his own ebullience in check. “I see you’ve risen in the world, Vilcos. Risen high.”

  “What, the governorship? I’ll tell you, Pelekarr, it’s still like a dream. But it remains to be seen if the dream is a happy one, or a nightmare. This city is in chaos, and the rest of the land must soon follow if I don’t act quickly.

  “But look at you! I’d heard you were here in Ostora, but never had the time to track you down. It’s good to see you. Mishtan’s golden guts, you’re the spitting image of your father.”

  “You look well yourself, Vilcos. Very well.”

  “This is Captain Damicos, I presume?”

  Damicos bowed. “Yes, milord.”

  “Come, sit down. Pelekarr, take that one. Lofeg, another chair for Captain Damicos.”

  A thin man, motionless in a corner until now, stepped forward, all deftness and deference. He produced a high-seated camp stool for Damicos, then stepped back toward his corner, close to the desk, where he could observe the room.

  Damicos studied him. Indeterminate age, with a glorious curled mustache. He didn’t look like a servant; his clothes were too rich, and there was something in his face that lacked servility. Damicos puzzled but a moment before realizing that this was almost certainly Spatha’s new deputy, recently raised from a lower office along with the governor. And likely also the true strategist behind the office, given what Damicos had seen so far of Spatha’s effusive and jocund demeanor. This Lofeg had a far more cunning look.

  Pelekarr spoke up as they took their seats. “Lord Governor, any news from Kerath?”

  Spatha shook his head. “Not a thing. It’s been half a week, and the only ships coming into port here have been merchantmen from Chikka, or further down the coast. We are still on our own.”

  “And so new to your post,” Pelekarr commiserated. “You have my sympathies.”

  Lofeg spoke up. “New to the post, but learning fast. The Lord Governor will have things put to order within the week, do not doubt it.”

  Spatha nodded his appreciation at the words of support. “Lofeg here has a keen mind, captains, and let me tell you, I have need of keen minds.” Spatha’s mood darkened further. “Great need. What a mess! What a gods-cursed, stinking mess!

  “Along with this office, Lofeg and I have inherited a great pile of rumor and fear, you see. Fear drove Dremmel out on but an hour’s notice. When he swore me in, porters hauling his things down to the beach in the background, he was sweating with fear. And now I begin to see the extent of the problems that broke him.”

  Pelekarr shrugged. “He could stay or he could go, and he went. May the gods grant him peace, but his loss of nerve was your gain, Vilcos.”

  “It’s true. I’ve an opportunity here I can’t turn away from, even if he did. Dremmel never liked Ostora, it was but a stepping stone to him. Now he’s in the same position as your military leadership, desperately hoping their gamble pays off and the king really does need them back in Kerath. But it leaves me in a wretched spot in the meantime. The bulk of the army is gone, and Ostora is wide open.”

  “That bad?” Pelekarr asked. “What of the barons? They keep garrisons. And you have guard contingents here in Belsoria.”

  “Oh, it’s that bad, Ios. A few guards and fortified keeps aren’t enough to keep an entire forest full of barbarian raiders at bay for long, not when they realize our position. And then there are the creatures that live out there in the wilds, swarms of things not seen in a generation. But the tales of this place back when it was first settled… enough to make a man shiver, I tell you. It was the Kerathi legion that beat it all back into the forests, but still it lingers there on the margin, waiting.”

  Spatha brow sank into a worried scowl, and Lofeg quickly spoke up again. “A solution has presented itself, however. And it involves men such as you two, captains of trained warriors who remain in this land.”

  “Yes,” Spatha said, coming back to the present from his nervous trance. “Which brings me to you, Pelekarr… and the charges laid against you.”

  Pelekarr cleared his throat. “About the charges. I acted impetuously, but not without precedent or cause. The man was a foul murderer. If you are amenable, I would request the opportunity to meet my accuser on the field of honor.”

  Spatha toyed with a quill on his desk. His gaze was carefully neutral. “I do not doubt you personally, Pelekarr. But it won’t be that easy, I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER 6: AN IRRESISTIBLE OFFER

  Pelekarr leaned forward in his chair apprehensively, though he let nothing show in his face.

  “Let us be frank, old friend,” he said. “I will never ask you to go against your duty. Whatever punishment you deem necessary, I will accept. I do ask that my colleague here,” Pelekarr nodded at Damicos, “be spared. He sought only to aid me when I was sore beset. Any fault is mine alone.”

  Spatha smiled ruefully. “Ah, Pelekarr. This gives me no pleasure. In fact, it would be far more to my liking to lop off Felca’s head. Sneering, strutting cock of a man.”

  “What prevents you?” Pelekarr asked, only half joking. He tried to keep his tone light.

  “A sworn statement, attested by a plenitude of witnesses, that you attacked him without cause here in Belsoria, yesterday even, while he took his ease in a tavern. His witnesses swear he gave no offense and even tried to talk you down. The same witnesses also state that you attempted to stab him in the back. Then, a co-conspirator,” Spatha’s eyes took in Damicos, “joined the fray before the two miscreants wer
e finally overcome and left to the king’s justice.” He cleared his throat. “My justice.”

  “I see,” Pelekarr said.

  “Miscreants?” Damicos questioned, keeping his voice respectful. “We are officers of the king’s army. We might be given the benefit of some trust, for that at least.”

  “I find myself in a difficult position,” Spatha continued. “My first inclination is to toss these accusations out the window. If you attacked Felca, I can well guess at the reason. But I can’t just ignore the charges.”

  “Why not?” Pelekarr’s voice was strained. “Begging your lordship’s pardon, of course, but Chiss Felca was one of those who cut Lord Jaimesh down and boasted of it afterwards. He’s a bloody murderer and ought to be hanged by any law in the civilized world.”

  “That’s not what he’s saying, nor his host of backers.” Spatha sighed. “Listen, Pelekarr. I have enemies. Not a week in the governor’s chair, and already rivals seek to undermine my authority, to position me in a bad light against a future reckoning with the king’s will. There are those who expected the governorship for themselves after Dremmel’s departure, and they are not sitting idly by to grant me peaceful tenure. If I make a mistake, one misstep, it could mean my head. I walk the edge of a dagger in these early days of my office, and an accusation that I unjustly spared a friend from the king’s justice would be a grievous blow to my authority here. It isn’t a matter of my personal views on the situation, it’s the way it all looks to those surrounding me.”

  Spatha’s face was grim, but Pelekarr’s now grew hard as iron.

  “Am I to understand,” the captain slowly said, “that you would turn your face from justice and right in order to maintain position and prestige? Because you fear what envious dogs might whisper about you? That is not the Vilcos I remember.”

  Pelekarr clipped his words too late. His temper was ever his worst enemy, and the man could ill afford to anger Spatha under the circumstances. But rage drove him, and the governor’s face reddened in response.

  “For the sake of your father’s memory, and in view of our long acquaintance, I can forgive a slight.” Damicos saw the veins along the governor’s neck swell as he strove to control himself. “But our friendship may not always endure, Pelekarr, if you cannot be made to see what is sensible.”

  Pelekarr, yet in the grip of his ire, spoke quickly in reply. “A friendship that comes too easily may be—”

  Damicos put a restraining hand on his fellow captain’s shoulder. Pelekarr quickly shrugged it off, but Damicos replaced it more firmly and spoke over the other man’s words.

  “Lord Governor,” he said, in a voice that was the very soul of deference, “our lives are in your hands. We feel it keenly. Captain Pelekarr’s heated depth of feeling stems from his frustration with the recent death of his commander, not from anything you have said. Were he able to humble himself and see reason for a moment, he would admit that whatever you decide to do with our case is just.”

  Damicos stared at Pelekarr with piercing eyes, and waited. The mute appeal was written plainly on his face. My life. Your life. Choose carefully.

  Pelekarr smoldered for another moment, jaw clenching. Then the volcanic torrent inside him cooled enough address Spatha again, after swallowing hard. “I spoke churlishly. Forgive me, Vilcos.”

  Spatha eyed him for a moment, glanced toward Lofeg. Finally he sat back and slapped a hand on the desk in front of him. “It’s forgotten. We’ll speak no more of it.”

  “What more can I do for my cause, sir?” Pelekarr said. “If I laid my own charges against Felca, demanded a duel in public…”

  “Perhaps before, not now,” Spatha answered. “Felca not only had his friends around him to witness your attack, he made sure that when he made his complaint to me that my enemies were present. They wait to see what I will do.”

  “Then shall I wither in prison while a murderer goes free?” Pelekarr grated, forcing himself to keep his tone civil. “Has Iscabos’ foul treachery triumphed after all?”

  Spatha slowly drummed his fingers on the desktop, gazing back and forth between Damicos and Pelekarr. He waited until the cavalry captain had sunk into a deeper and more respectful silence.

  “The situation you find yourself in, Pelekarr, is but part of a much larger problem. The same problem we were discussing before. And the solution to the larger issue may also resolve the immediate one, if you will but hear me out.”

  Damicos nodded. “Of course, your lordship. We are all ears and we have no tongue.” He directed the last phrase toward Pelekarr with enough emphasis that the other captain got the hint.

  “Lofeg has shown me a part of the Ostoran colonial charter,” Spatha explained, “which allows for the formation of free companies. Soldiers to keep enemies of the king at bay, self-organized and paid from their own spoils. Kept in check by certain limitations, but otherwise free to contract their forces out to any subject of the king who will pay for them.”

  Pelekarr was silent. Damicos watched the governor as he explained the plan, and he kept an eye on the face of the strategist, Lofeg. The other man’s face was inscrutable, however.

  “If by forming these companies I can regulate the Ostoran colonial settlements, eliminate the waste and in-fighting we saw on the beach a few days ago, and stave off the collapse of our border with the wildlands,” Spatha declared, “it’s entirely possible that not only will I come out on top as a successful and wise governor, but I will have shown that royal troops are no longer needed here. That Ostora is fully capable of governing itself and there’s no cause to quarter legions among us.”

  Spatha eyed the two captains carefully. “I am sure you’re aware of the resentment some Ostorans hold for the huge numbers of troops we’ve had in these lands for the last twenty years.”

  “Those troops have stood between the Ostorans, and violent death from the forests,” Pelekarr argued.

  “Of course. But you see how the flow of reason and emotion plays in the minds of the people.” Spatha again twirled a quill in his fingers. “If we can hold the raff at bay for just a few seasons, show them that it’s better to live in harmony than fight us, then there won’t be a need for the legions. A better long-term solution for His Majesty, and better for the colonies.”

  “Better for the governorship,” Pelekarr added, drily. But he quickly amended himself. “Anyone can understand the need for balance between competing interests of those you govern. It is an adroit answer to the tangled web you are confronted with, Lord Governor.”

  Damicos was impressed, but skeptical of the governor’s hope for peace. “From what I’ve heard, milord, the barbarians aren’t amenable to treaties. They are a warlike people, and nothing can change them.”

  “Untrue,” Spatha insisted. “Past governors have mismanaged those relations like bungling fools. I tell you, if I could have but two good years free of senseless conflict, I could have the barbarian chiefs eating out of my hand. Many of the clans on our border are trapped there between larger rivals and our frontier outposts, under pressure from both sides. If we can establish them as placid buffer states between us and the more aggressive raff, it would give us enough of a foothold here on the coast that we could control the whole land, given enough time.”

  Pelekarr remained skeptical. “I would have to see it with my own eyes to believe that any barbarian of these shores could treat rationally with men of Kerath.”

  “Perhaps not of Kerath. But their Ostoran descendants have been living alongside the frontier for generations now.”

  “And lost half their population to the depredations of the raff. The barbarian raids have always kept Ostora on the edge of survival. It’s a dazzlingly rich land, yes, but one continually fighting for its life and so far unable to fully realize its vast potential. That’s how the king sees it at least, and the nobility in Kerath.”

  “You’re a man of the army,” Spatha replied evenly. “You’ve been here only a year. You may change your mind on the matter with tim
e. In any event, the point of this interview is not to convert you to a more liberal view of the Ostoran problem. It is to make you an offer.”

  “Please!” Damicos said, tired of the back and forth between the two high-born talkers. “We want to hear it.”

  “Simply put, I need men. Good men, men that can fight,” Spatha explained. “Ordinarily, I’d be forced to punish you both with half a year in jail at minimum, much more if one of those you wounded dies. But the present crisis easily trumps that, and I find myself able to forgive certain offenses if I can prove that in doing so I am serving the best interest of the crown.”

  “You would give us the commission of our own free companies?” Pelekarr asked. His tone suggested he wasn’t at all certain how he felt about the prospect.

  “Chartered by the crown, through me,” Spatha replied. “Sworn never to act against the interests of the king or the governor, and to take pay only for lawfully conducted actions against enemies of the crown. That can include the raff when it comes to it, the savage creatures of the forests, and any malefactors failing to abide by the king’s law, such as bandits, rebellious citizenry, or rogue barons.”

  Damicos was nodding appreciatively. “How will His Majesty view all this, your lordship? Pelekarr and I are Kerathi military, and none of us is even sure whether we currently stand in breach of our oaths to that station. We could hang for treason just for staying in Ostora, if things turn against us at court. It may not help our cause to take new oaths which enrich ourselves.”

  “The king can’t afford to lose Ostora,” Spatha firmly answered. “He needs peace and stability here, war or no war—he must have bronze regardless, and that means a continued flow of lumber and ores homeward. A few thousand soldiers can make no real difference across the sea; here, they spell the difference between life and death, chaos and order.”

  Lofeg interjected smoothly. “And think you thus, captains: there may be no war across the sea at all, not such as requires an exodus from Ostora en masse. If so, then Iscabos and all the others who sailed will be the traitors, not you. They abandoned their post while you brave souls stayed. You could be lauded as the protectors of the realm.”