by Garon Whited
“I am not privy to that, but if I may offer a guess?”
“Go for it.”
“I think Tort may have lied to him about the feasibility of transporting it. It is a table of stone and quite large. She might even have lied to him about it being part of the mountain.”
“That could work. What else do the shadows have?”
“They have the spirit-stone—your crystal warrior—kept in the Temple. It is my understanding they have the room where a knight is given his armor, somehow, and have claimed it as theirs. I do not have the details.”
“Probably a hidden passage to the room and all other access blocked off,” I mused. “The mountain might even have moved the whole room, I suppose. Fair enough. Back to our troop movements. Any sign of other troops?”
“Not in the main army. If it matters, there appear to be no religious contingents other than the Lord of Light.”
“That’s not surprising. They don’t like other gods.”
“Very true, Sire.”
“By the way, what’s the difference between heavy cavalry and knights?” The words he used were equitanae and armania. The first specifically meant some sort of horse-mounted combatant while the second was less specific about the method of fighting.
“Training and equipment, Sire. The cavalry are dangerous, but they are not as skillful nor as well equipped as a knight. Knights will fight from horseback, on foot—anywhere and everywhere. Cavalry are mounted warriors used for swift response, flanking maneuvers, and breakthrough attacks.”
“Got it. Go on.”
“Eighteen ships have set sail from Formia. The two forces appear to be timing their arrival at Mochara.”
“What’s on the boats?”
“We are not certain. The ships are much better protected than the army. This leads me to believe the ships carry much of the magical forces. I also believe this to be the case because of prior difficulties in assaulting Mochara by sea, or landing troops anywhere along the coast within any reasonable distance. Down the coast, the keels tend to shatter. Closer to the city, the ships erupt in flames. Knowing this, I would send my heaviest magical defenses with the ships to prevent disaster.”
“Seems reasonable. By the way, send someone to find Flim, down in Mochara. Ask him if he would be good enough to receive me early this evening.”
Seldar made a notation, nodding.
“The ultimate strategy of these two forces, Sire, is still in question. I can understand sending the wizards on ships. One does not march wizards anywhere if you expect them to be well-rested—much more important for wizards than for most other troops.”
“I agree.”
“It is possible they will attempt to regroup and form a cohesive force before attacking. It is also possible they will attempt to attack on two fronts.”
“You assume they’re going after Mochara?”
“They must. The ships cannot rise to the canals, nor could they sail along them. Moreover, the army dares not leave Mochara at its back.” He paused, frowning and rubbing his jaw. “They could march on Karvalen while the ships engaged Mochara, threatening it with invasion to prevent a relieving force, but this would dangerously and needlessly divide their armies. I would not do it.”
“Sound thinking,” I agreed. “Good strategy dictates wise action. This makes professional soldiers somewhat predictable. The problem is, the world is full of amateurs.”
“Of course, Sire.”
“A bit of good news, though. I don’t think the army will be joining us.”
“Sire?”
I explained what I did to the road. Seldar bit his lips to hide his smile. Mary didn’t bother; she grinned as though trying to fade from view. I even heard Kammen chortle in his helmet.
“So we’re likely to have several boatloads of wizards,” I concluded, “assuming they don’t decide to call it off.”
“They might,” Seldar said. “I would.”
“And if they don’t?”
“When attacked, we fight.”
There was really nothing for anyone to say after that. I changed the subject.
“All right. Who wants to join me in a conversation with Thomen?” Everyone volunteered. “Figures. Okay. I’ll do the talking. If anyone has something to tell me, pass me a note. I’d rather not have an open discussion while he’s watching. We need to present a picture of unity and certitude.”
“Sire?”
“Yes, Seldar?”
“May I suggest only one chair be visible? You should sit casually, as though this is merely a minor matter, while the rest of us stand behind you as though awaiting your attention.”
“Good thinking.” We arranged ourselves in front of the mirror. I called Tianna and she settled in to observe. I dialed the palace in Carrillon. A nice young lady answered it and didn’t even bother to ask my business; she sent a messenger and offered to entertain me on her duzan-kin.
They’ve invented “hold” music.
I told her to play; I’d never seen one before. It looked like a square, wooden pipe, open at both ends, with five strings mounted on the top. She plucked the strings with one hand and slid fingertips back and forth to vary the pitch and chord it. I couldn’t tell if she was good or not. She was obviously nervous and I’m as competent a judge of music as I am of Precambrian art.
Yes, I know when the Precambrian Era was. That’s what makes it funny.
Thomen waved a hand and dismissed her, moving into view and seating himself.
“I’ve been expecting this call,” he said.
“I did tell Corran to tell you.”
“Yes, you did.”
Awkward silence.
“Well? What did he say?” I asked. “I’d like to make sure he told you what he was supposed to.”
“He says a great many things. The gist of it was that you want to see Lissette ruling Rethven.”
“Pretty much.”
“I’m for it,” Thomen agreed. “You, however, do not need to be involved.”
“I’m listening.”
“You are a plague on the people of Rethven.”
“I’m still listening.”
“What more need be said?”
“Well, I can think of a few points we should cover. First, before I surrender my crown and throne, I need to know Lissette is healthy, sane, and free of any magical influence.” I saw Thomen stiffen as I said it. “Second, I need to be sure the nobles of the realm will acknowledge her authority. If we can accomplish those two things, I’ll happily throw a feast in the Palace of Carrillon, invite all the nobles to watch me passing along the crown, and vanish thereafter. What do you think?”
“I think you are deceitful and cannot be trusted. You are the Demon King and likely lying.” He glance flicked behind me. “Those automata behind you prove nothing. They are either controlled or deceived. You are a child-murderer and a monster. You will never see Lissette nor sit on the throne again.”
Mary put a hand on my arm, gently. I glanced down and saw my knuckles were white on the arm of the chair. With great deliberation, I relaxed.
“So,” I said, swallowed, and started over. “So, Thomen, what you’re saying is I should annihilate Carrillon, declare a new capitol, find a new queen, and produce a new heir. In twenty years, I can have a worthy heir and turn the kingdom over to him or her. That should be my plan?”
“You have no chance of that,” Thomen sneered. “Between us stands an army greater than any since the days of Zirafel. With, I might add, more magic at our command than you could muster in a year.”
“I see. Well. That’s certainly one opinion.”
“It is my estimation, based on years of observation.”
“Well, that settles it, then. I know Lissette would prefer to die than to live as a wizard’s puppet. I’ll arrange for the city to be destroyed immediately. Good day.” I reached out toward the mirror, as though to shut it off. Thomen stopped me.
“Wait!”
“Wait? How long? Long en
ough for you to escape my wrath? That would involve waiting for you to die of natural causes. That’s not going to happen.”
“What do you mean, ‘destroy’?”
“I mean I will smite the city with fire and thunder the likes of which the world has never seen. The blow I will strike risks cracking the world in two, but it’s a fairly small risk. The city, however, will vanish utterly. Where once there was a city, there will be a circular lake at the new mouth of the Dormer river. The city and everything in it will be reduced to ashes and dust in a blast so profound the people in Karvalen will look up and see the cloud of it rising beyond the mountains.”
I don’t know what the people behind me were doing, but Thomen looked at them, then at me, and licked his lips.
“You can’t do that.”
“People keep saying that to me,” I observed, leaning forward and smiling my best Evil Bastard smile. It’s a good smile. I think it’s the teeth that really sell it. They’re subtle, but they add a little touch of predatory to make it especially unnerving. “I don’t know why. It’s almost as though they’re challenging me to prove I can. Is that what you’re doing? Are you challenging me to destroy Carrillon, Thomen?”
“Such power is not found in mortal hands.”
I sat back, put my elbows on the arms of the chair, extended my fangs, and deliberately, slowly, began drumming my fingertips against each other. I clicked my fingernails together to emphasize my point.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Mortals don’t have such power.”
Technically true. I didn’t know any mortals who knew the trick to it. Once you know matter is a kind of highly-compressed, sticky energy, though… As for Thomen, I let him wonder if I was implying nightlords might have such an ability, or if my brief stint as a demigod might have given me some sort of smiting authority.
Thomen turned the mirror away for a moment. I let out a huge breath and resettled myself in the chair. When I looked at the others, Kammen was smiling and Mary looked worried.
Mary is concerned you might have a nuke up your sleeve. The other two are sure you can do what you say. They don’t know how, but they believe it.
Good to know. I see Seldar isn’t especially cheerful. Seldar looked concerned and was scribbling a note.
He wants to know when you’re going to start negotiating.
Aren’t I?
He thinks you’re just threatening and demanding. Very kingly. Not very diplomatic, though.
He has a point, I agreed, thinking it over. I nodded at Seldar and he handed me the note. Yes, it said basically what Firebrand already told me.
Thomen turned the mirror back again. I put on my game face.
“Before we resume,” I said, “allow me to take this opportunity to apologize.” Thomen looked startled, then suspicious. “I’ve been demanding and ordering and suchlike. I shouldn’t be. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to be King. I apologize for being unpleasant and discourteous.”
“That’s very gracious,” Thomen allowed. “I accept your apology, although it does not move me. I have consulted with my advisors and we do not believe you can do what you threaten. I will not agree.”
“I understand, but hear me out. The smiting of cities is the stick. Rude and unpleasant. Let me try the carrot.”
“Carrot? Stick?”
“Don’t you people know the story? Nevermind. I’ve offered a penalty for not working with me. Now let me offer a reward.”
“A reward.” His suspicious expression deepened. “I’m listening.”
“I think I’ve made clear what I want. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“If I get what I want, I’m prepared to give you things.”
“Such as?”
“If Lissette is alive and well, I’ll place her on the throne, the crown on her head, the royal regalia all over her, the works. Then I’ll abdicate in her favor. She’ll be the sole monarch of the kingdom. She can then marry whomever she chooses. Anything between you and her then becomes moot—not only to me, but to the people, as well. Whatever arrangement you two come to is your affair. I’ll be off somewhere else and won’t care. How does that sound?”
“I think,” he said, slowly, “you are trying to buy time. You know my forces are advancing on you; you know I can defeat you. You are trying to persuade me to recall them so you can hatch some plot, form some alliance—something. Why else would you go to such lengths?”
“Because, right here, right now, we can change the course of the future.”
“Oh?”
“If we go on as we are, thousands will die. Most of your soldiers—most of mine, too—don’t want to fight.”
I ignored the muffled snort from Kammen.
“They march because we order it,” I went on. “There’s no need for any of this. We can keep it from happening. If you truly care about Lissette, as I hope you do, you can get what you want without bloodshed and death. I’m willing to work with you on it. I can get what I want, too, if you’ll work with me. This doesn’t have to end badly.”
“Yes, it does,” he countered, leaning forward suddenly. “You have to die. Permanently. You are a plague and an abomination—and I’m not even talking about your blood! You are a terrible thing, upsetting the traditions of a thousand years, muddying the water of class and station. You are ruining everything about this kingdom, twisting it, making it into a seething cauldron of chaos. People don’t know their place. Nobles watch the other nobles, maneuvering for power and prestige. Peasants dream of rising above themselves. Women dare to speak in the presence of men! You even want one to rule! Everyone is looking at anyone higher and wondering how to take their place.
“You started this with your words, with your school of letters and numbers, with the temptation of ambition for the common man. It’s worst in Karvalen, and I thank the gods you never encouraged it to spread to this side of the mountains! You have to die, your cities have to die, and your ideas must die—crushed out utterly, like a coal beneath a bootheel!”
We glared at each other through the magic glass for several seconds. I counted silently to ten in English, Rethven, and German. Thomen sat there, gripping the arms of his chair, red-faced and angry.
“I see. Well. You’ve certainly clarified your position.”
“I have.”
“Just to make sure I understand you correctly? Lissette must not rule. I have to die. The cities of Karvalen and Mochara must be destroyed, mostly because they’re full of people with the ambition to try and be something other than whatever their social position allows. Does that cover it?”
“I’d say so,” Thomen agreed, slowly settling back in his seat.
“Okay. Now we know where we stand,” I told him, trying to keep my voice mild. It wasn’t easy. My temper has been ruined.
“And where do you stand on all this?” he asked.
“I’m going to have to think about my response. I told you what I want. You told me what you want. Now I have to figure out how to give you what you deserve.”
I hung up on him.
“Sire?” Seldar asked.
“What?” I snapped.
“A word?”
“Fine, but make it fast. Everybody else, out. I’m going to need some alone time.”
They didn’t argue. I heard some whispering from Firebrand—thoughts not directed at me. Everyone but Seldar left the room. I wasn’t sure if I was going to break anything or not, but I didn’t want to find out with people in the room. My feelings have been a little less nailed down ever since the Johann Incident.
“Make it quick, please.”
“Halar?”
I blinked, startled out of my black mood for a moment. He never calls me that.
“Yes?”
“What are you?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“I thought not,” he agreed. “Do you at least understand I love you, my King?”
“Yes,” I agreed, slowly. “Yes, I think I understand it in the way y
ou mean it. And I think it fair to say, in the same spirit, I love you, Seldar. If you were my son, I would be proud to say so. Is that close to what you mean?”
“It is,” he agreed, nodding. “And I would be proud to claim you as my father. Having said so, I trust you will understand how much it pains me to do this,” he added , and he smacked me, open-handed, across the face, rocking my head to the side.
I froze in that position, hands cracking the chair arms under my grip. Long, slow, deep breaths and no other movement, none, until I had as good a grip on myself as I did on the chair. It wasn’t likely, but I tried.
Firebrand said, as though across a great distance, Fangs, Boss. Fangs. It continued, very quietly, as though psychically tip-toeing through a minefield, Your fangs are out, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you accidentally kill Seldar!
Slowly, I turned my head and regarded him. With Firebrand to remind me, I tried, but couldn’t seem to retract my fangs. I did manage to let go of the chair arms, noting, in passing, I had to pull my fingernails out of the wood.
“If anyone else had done that,” I said, slowly, “they would probably be dead.”
“Yes, Sire, and rightly so. My life is forfeit. But I must do as my conscience dictates—I must do what, in my mortal wisdom, seems right to me.”
“So you must,” I agreed, still speaking slowly and trying not to show the storm inside. Those fangs are really annoying at times. “Explain,” I ordered, and Seldar flinched.
The flinch is what helped the most. Seldar flinched. Seldar. Seldar, for one instant, showed fear. Fear of me.
It hurt, and it made me want to fix it, want to protect him from whatever made him afraid. Whatever it was, it would find me standing between it and Seldar, and it was going to have to go through me to get him.
When I realized I was the thing making him afraid, and my anger turned inward instead of outward.
“Are you a god?” he asked. “Are you a man? A Thing from beyond the world? I need to know. What are you? Demon, nightlord, wizard, or king? I deserve to know, because the one I serve is a king. I thought I served a king. I meant to, but I am having difficulty in finding my King. I saw him turn into a creature of horror, the Demon King, and I could not bear it. Now I see him again, less horrifying, but lacking the certain something which made him a king. Made him my King.
