by Gav Thorpe
"I will."
VI
Ullsaard said nothing as he heartily attacked the venison on his plate. It had been a terrible day and he was happy to occupy his mouth with eating rather than talking. Ullsaard had donated his pavilion to Prince Aalun, and had taken Rondin's tent instead. The First Captain had moved his gear in with Anasind without complaint, though Ullsaard would find some way to reward them both for the sacrifice.
Allenya did her best to keep the mood around the table congenial, talking about everything and nothing: the prices of clothes in the market; hiring a new kitchen maid; the unseasonal warm weather; the embroidery on the walls of the pavilion; the quality of the meat. She did not chatter, but spoke quietly and calmly about these things, as if they were back in their palace apartment.
Meliu picked idly at her food, avoiding Ullsaard's gaze. Her eyes were still rimmed red from crying. Luia stared daggers at her husband throughout the meal, and did not eat. Ullsaard was not sure what she was more annoyed by – their eviction from the city, or the fact that Ullsaard had ordered his legionnaires to escort her tame wrestler from the camp. He had also instructed Anasind to quietly pass the word around the army that any man found consorting with Luia would be flogged and beheaded; the last thing he needed was to waste time worrying about the disruption that would be caused by his wayward wife's sexual appetites.
When they were done, the Maasrites silently entered and cleared the table, bringing wine and water in earthenware jugs. At this, Meliu brightened slightly and insisted on pouring Ullsaard's drink. He noticed her measure of wine to water was very generous and suspected that she was trying to get him drunk.
He drank sparingly, wanting to keep his head clear, and said nothing, until even Allenya's supply of gossip and observations ran dry. The tent walls flapped in the wind and ropes creaked outside. The call of the sentries split the night air and the bell sounded the third hour of Duskwatch.
"This is ridiculous!" snapped Luia, standing.
"Sit down," Ullsaard said. She stopped, sneered and was about to turn away when Ullsaard growled. "Sit down!"
She locked eyes with him, and he stared back, daring her to speak out of turn. She broke from his unflinching glare and sat down with a pout, thudding her fists on the table. Ullsaard took a moment to calm before he spoke.
"I did not intend for this to happen," he said. "I thought that a campaign in Salphoria would be the best way to guarantee the future of this family. The new lands, th–"
"Liar," said Luia. "You were not thinking about this family at all. You were thinking about the glory and prestige you would have."
"Glory and prestige that would be a legacy for my sons," Ullsaard answered coolly, forcing himself to keep his temper in the face of his wife's scorn. "The name Ullsaard kon Salphoria would carry more weight than Ullsaard ad Enair."
"A title?" Luia laughed. "You think you can battle your way into the nobility?"
"Why not? Every noble family name in Askhor was once just a normal family name. Wealth, prestige, these things can be grown over generations. History does not forget the names of great men. Perhaps your ambitions for your granddaughter would not be so far-fetched if her grandfather was known as the conqueror of Salphoria. That's a claim that could entice even the Blood into a union."
Luia opened her mouth to argue and stopped. She bit her lip and tapped her fingers together as she considered this. Then her expression darkened again.
"That would have been well and good, but all you have managed to achieve is shame, and your name will be remembered with ignominy. What sort of legacy is that?"
"All is not yet lost," said Ullsaard. He took another sip of the strong wine. "When we have found out what Noran can tell us, I will ask him to take a message to the king. I will offer my deepest apologies and regret for the turn of events, and ask for his forgiveness. In my experience, the Blood find humility hard to resist. I'll swear my oaths of loyalty again, at his feet if necessary, and vow to uphold Kalmud's right to become king."
"You would distance yourself from Aalun?" asked Allenya. "He has been your ally and patron for a long time. He will not take such a move kindly."
"Sister, you are right," said Luia, and her eyes were distant, narrowed in calculation. "The king is your enemy for the moment, but he will not live forever. When he is gone, what power will Kalmud have to protect his succession against Aalun? It is more likely that Aalun will become the next king, and you would be better to have him as a friend than an enemy."
Ullsaard lowered his head into his hands and massaged his temples.
"I feel like I've opened a box of snakes and I don't know which one to grab," he muttered. "What was I thinking?"
"It does not matter," said Allenya. She walked around the table and laid an arm across Ullsaard's shoulders. "What has happened cannot be changed. Right or wrong, we are where we are."
He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, planting a kiss on her belly, feeling her soft woollen dress on his lips. Allenya stroked his hair.
"Nothing can be done until the morning," she said. "Why not get some rest?"
This seemed like a good idea. Ullsaard took Allenya's hand in his and stood up.
"I have a few duties around camp," he said. "I'll be back soon."
At that moment, a captain from the guard company announced his presence outside the tent. Ullsaard told the man to enter.
"General, Noran the herald is at the camp gates," the soldier announced.
"So soon? Let him into the camp and send word to Prince Aalun of his arrival."
"Yes, General," the captain said with a brief salute before hurrying out of the tent.
"This cannot be good," Ullsaard said, sitting at the table.
Allenya summoned a servant and instructed him to prepare hot tea.
"I am sure Noran would like something to drink," she said, sitting opposite Ullsaard.
"Always the perfect hostess," the general replied. "Perhaps I should have you with me all the time."
"You are not dragging us around on your campaigns like common camp followers," said Luia. "You may choose to live in ditches, but I will not."
Meliu gave a sob and buried her hands in her arms.
"This is so awful," she moaned. She lifted her tear-streaked face. "Where will we go? What about my darling Ullnaar? He'll be all alone! You've made us the mockery of all Askh."
Ullsaard had no time to reply. The tent door swirled open and Noran strode in. Behind came two women, one about twenty years of age, her belly swelling with child, the other a little older.
"Neerita!" squealed Meliu, launching from her chair towards the pregnant woman. Ullsaard's youngest wife swamped Noran's with a hug and a shower of kisses.
"What is g–" began Ullsaard. He was silenced by Noran's fist catching him flush on the chin.
"You fucking selfish cunt!" the herald raged while Luia laughed behind Ullsaard. "Of all the pig-headed, fucking stupid things you have done, this is the worst! You utter m–"
Ullsaard's return punch caught Noran square between the eyes, knocking him to his backside.
"Don't ever raise your hand to me, friend or not," Ullsaard said, rubbing his chin.
Noran blinked with disbelief, slightly cross-eyed. Ullsaard reached out and helped Noran to his feet.
"Let us leave you two alone," said Allenya, hustling Meliu, Neerita and Anriit towards the back of the tent where canvas screens had been hung to create separate rooms. Luia lingered a while longer, hoping that Noran would hit her husband again. When it became clear that this would not happen, she huffed disapprovingly and joined her sisters.
"Perhaps you should start again," suggested Ullsaard. He lifted the wine jug and Noran nodded and sat down at the table. Noran scrunched his nose a few times.
"Is it broken?" the herald asked.
"Not even bleeding, you weakling," Ullsaard replied, placing a mug of undiluted wine in front of Noran. "Drink this and tell me what's happening. Why so upset?"
Noran took a large swig from the mug and fixed Ullsaard with a resigned stare.
"Because I brought you to Askh on the prince's orders, Lutaar has accused me of being in league with you and Aalun. Members of the Brotherhood came to my apartment, but my servants held them off until we managed to get out through the window. Imagine it!"
"I'd say you've had plenty of experience of hasty window retreats over the years," chuckled Ullsaard.
"This isn't fucking funny."
"No, it isn't. Sorry. Carry on."
Noran drank some more before continuing.
"There is not a lot more to say. We slipped out of the palace grounds, managed to pick up a few things from Neerita's old house and then left the city before the gates closed at Howling. Here I am."
"Did you manage to find anything out before you were chased off?"
"Yes, but it would be better to tell you and Aalun together. Where is the prince?"
"Let's go and see him." Ullsaard downed the contents of his cup and Noran did the same.
As they left the tent, Ullsaard beckoned to one of the legionnaires on guard with a crooked finger.
"Ask First Captain Jutiil if he'll give up his tent for Herald Noran and his family. He can share with Luamid."
The legionnaire headed off into the flame-broken night.
"That's kind of you," said Noran as the pair set off in the opposite direction, towards the centre of camp.
"It's the most I could do," Ullsaard joked. "I do feel partly responsible for your predicament."
"Partly?" Noran's voice rose an octave with incredulity.
"You're the one who decided to flee from the Brotherhood. You could have stayed and explained what happened."
"With everything that's been going on these last couple of days, I panicked, all right? No one in the palace is open to reason and explanation at the moment. And that is your fault."
"More Aalun's than mine. He started all of this."
"And without you going along with him, he wouldn't have dared be so bold."
Ullsaard was too tired to argue any more. When they came to the grand pavilion, Aalun was sitting in Ullsaard's campaign chair dictating a letter to a scribe. He looked up, waved the attendant away and signalled for Ullsaard and Noran to approach. Ullsaard bit back a comment about being invited into his own home and took up a stool in front of the prince. Noran did the same and briefly recounted what he had told Ullsaard. Aalun looked at Noran with sympathy.
"My father's unreasonableness about this whole affair is beyond comprehension," said the prince.
"You don't understand your father's 'unreasonableness', not yet, Prince," replied Noran. He looked at Ullsaard. "He has instructed the Brotherhood to declare you traitor to the empire. I heard about the trouble you had trying to leave. Now the Brothers are dragging your name through the dirt across the city, from the hill to the goat quarter."
Ullsaard absorbed this without comment and Noran continued.
"On top of that, messages were sent to Nemtun more than a week ago. He has gathered two legions from Okhar, will pick up another in Nalanor and is marching here right now."
"More than a week ago?" said Aalun. "That's before Ullsaard even entered Askhor."
"Someone must have sent word," said Ullsaard. "I kept from the main routes, but you can't avoid everybody when you're marching with that many men."
"It's a rare rumour that travels faster than a legion," said Aalun. "And when it arrived, I heard nothing of it."
"Probably the Brotherhood again," said Noran. "Some reckon they used trained crows to carry messages between the precincts."
"It doesn't matter," said Ullsaard. "Nemtun surely knows he can't threaten us with two less legions, and untested ones at that."
"That's the other bad news," said Noran. "I spoke to a clerk in the treasury, who confided in me a letter sent to Kulrua in Maasra. It authorised the governor to release monies from the imperial vaults for the hiring of Nemurian mercenaries."
"How much money?" asked Aalun.
"At the going rate, enough for five thousand at least."
Ullsaard let out an explosive breath of air.
"Five thousand Nemurians? Nemtun needn't bother with his legions."
"But they'll take time to get here," said Aalun. "Nemtun will probably be trying to keep us here until the mercenaries arrive."
"I don't think I've ever heard of so many Nemurians in one place," said Ullsaard, unable to shake the picture of rank upon rank of massive dark-scaled bodies clad in iron armour. A nervous tingle ran down at his back at the prospect of facing such a force. "Best that we don't allow Nemtun to trap us."
Aalun called for the servants – borrowed from Ullsaard – to bring in more lamps while he delved around in his chest of scrolls and parchments. He produced three maps and laid them out on the rugs. One showed Narun and most of Nalanor; another covered more of Nalanor and the lands to duskwards; the third was a broad map of Greater Askhor as a whole. The three of them knelt down beside the broad sheets.
"So, once we get past the Wall, where do we go?" the prince asked.
"Wait a moment, that's a big assumption," said Ullsaard. "It seems to me that the men at the Wall were given orders to let us in, so that we would be trapped in Askhor. Getting out might not be a foregone conclusion."
"In which case we might as well not bother planning any further," said Aalun. "Just humour me, Ullsaard."
"Couldn't we head dawnwards to the coast and take ships instead?" asked Noran.
"Maybe we could," replied Ullsaard. "Getting the other thirty thousand men transport would be nearly impossible. We would need at least four hundred ships. We could start building right now and they wouldn't be done before the Nemurians show up. No, if we're going anywhere, it's through the Wall."
Aalun looked at the other two men, his expression asking whether they had finished interrupting. He pulled the Narun map to the top of the pile.
"The Greenwater is our next big obstacle," the prince said. "If Nemtun keeps to the duskward bank, he could contest any crossing we make. Our numbers would not count for much in that case."
"Narun's the worst place to cross, no matter what Nemtun decides to do," said Ullsaard. He retrieved the Nalanor map and spread it out in front of the prince. "We turn coldwards once we're outside the Wall. Head into the foothills. The river's faster there but not so wide. The autumn floodwaters won't start for another thirty days at least, so we should find safe crossing. Also, that puts us even further away from Nemtun, who'll be coming up the river from hotwards."
Noran and Aalun both nodded in agreement.
"What then?" asked Noran. "We can't stay in Nalanor. Head duskwards into Anrair, or Ersua?"
"Enair," said Ullsaard.
"You just want to go home," Noran said. "There's barely anything up there."
"Exactly," said Aalun, smiling at Ullsaard. "We need a sanctuary over the winter. Nemtun won't be able to chase us too far into Enair before the weather turns really bad. And the king won't want to pay the Nemurians for the whole winter. If we go to Enair, what do you think Nemtun will do?"
Ullsaard looked at the map, and located a small town on the intersection of the borders of Nalanor, Ersua and Anrair.
"He'll make winter quarters at Parmia," the general decided. "There's enough forage, not too far from supplies along the Greenwater, and he's placed to move in any direction come the spring."
"You know Enair better than any of us," said Aalun. "Where would you stay out the winter?"
"As far duskwards and hotwards as possible without being too close to Parmia. Somewhere near the coast."
Aalun pored over the map, his finger tracing the duskward coastline of Enair down to the Ersuan Mountains. "What about this place? Luurastin?"
Ullsaard shrugged.
"As good as any. Fishing town. No problem with food, woods in the nearby foothills for timber. Not a lot of livestock around there, we'd have to slaughter the kolubrids; can't feed them grass
or grain."
"Anything else?" asked Noran. "You seem rather pleased."
"I raised most of the Thirteenth from that area. A lot of them still have family there. We can disband the legion over the winter and muster them again just before spring breaks. We could probably do the same with some of the Fifth and Tenth, as long as they don't go too far dawnwards."
Aalun straightened, his face serious.
"I have to ask you this again, Ullsaard: will your legions follow us? It is one thing for them to abandon Mekha, another for them to march into exile."
