Forging the Sword (The Farsala Trilogy)

by Bell, Hilari

  “He took the sword without paying anything at all?” Soraya frowned. Outright theft was a bit much, even for the most arrogant deghan.

  “And Kavi tried to stop him,” Tebin confirmed. “He grabbed the blade, trying to take it back, and the deghan pulled it. Sliced his palm almost through the bone. He was lucky not to lose his hand completely.”

  “I see.” Soraya’s throat ached. She hated the peddler, and always would, but she’d seen his gift with metal. She understood what that sword stroke had cost him. “I trust the deghan suffered for it?”

  “Not in the slightest,” said Tebin. “He killed the cousin who’d inherited the money he thought was coming to him and used his inheritance to bribe the temple to get him off. Then the bastard had the gall to come back and pay me for the sword—full price. He even threw in three gold eagles ‘for the accident to your apprentice.’ Kavi threw that back at him. Would have attacked him, even though his hand was only half-healed at the time and we still had hopes … Anyway, that’s why he hates the deghans so—not just the bastard who maimed him, but all of them for letting him get away with it. Though maybe I should say that’s why he hated them, for I think that’s finally changing.”

  “Since he got his revenge,” said Soraya coldly. “Killing them almost to the last man with his betrayal. Even the ones who didn’t allow it, who would never have done such a thing or allowed it if they’d known.”

  “Kavi would say that they all supported the gahn who allowed it,” said Master Tebin softly. “But you’re right. Hates a bad thing. Anyway, now you know.”

  THOUGH SORAYA DISLIKED to admit it, as she walked slowly back to the governor’s house, it did make a difference. It didn’t, couldn’t, excuse what he’d done, but he had sufficient cause to hate.

  She dredged up a smile for the maid who opened the door, but it faded swiftly as she made her way to the solarium for the afternoon’s embroidery. It promised to be even more excruciating than usual, since she would have to listen to the lady Mitra’s complaints about a deghass being forced to translate for Suud barbarians, even if they did have questions about the terms of their apprenticeship! Surely someone more suitable could have been found …

  In fact Lady Mitra only brought up Soraya’s improper behavior twice, for she seemed to be disturbed by some other worry. She sewed silently while Nayani and Armina chatted, once even stitching in the wrong color, so she was forced to pick it out and do it over.

  Despite her curiosity—would she find herself out on the roof tonight? Nervous as Mitra seemed, she wasn’t likely to sleep!—Soraya was relieved when the time came to change for dinner. But as she left the room, Mitra stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Soraya.” She hesitated, looking after her departing daughters uncertainly.

  “Yes, Lady?”

  Mitra took a breath and seemed to make up her mind. “Soraya, I haven’t asked what happened to your family’s wealth. But I don’t … well, I would think that a prudent man would have sent some jewelry or coin along with his daughter, even if he was sending her to live with the savages for a time. After all, if some emergency occurred …”

  “Lady, my father sent nothing—”

  Mitra held up her hand. “I don’t care,” she said. “I mean that. But now, with your family gone, you’ll need anything you may have. So if you do have any … keepsakes, let us say, I’d advise you to keep them packed and ready to take at a moment’s notice. That’s all.”

  The lady Mitra turned and hurried off, leaving Soraya gazing after her open-mouthed.

  It was going to be soon. The lady Mitra was packing up her jewelry and valuables with her own hands, so the maids wouldn’t guess that the governor’s family planned to desert the city. And if she was warning Soraya to do the same …

  It was going to be soon, and Soraya still had no idea what Nehar was planning.

  Could she find out? In time?

  A deghass would find a way. A deghass wouldn’t betray her hosts. A deghass …

  Soraya sighed. She hadn’t found a way, and she had betrayed her hosts. In some ways she had never felt less like a deghass in her life, but another part of her heart welcomed familiar people, familiar clothes…. Even the familiar boredom had been tolerable in a world where so much was changing. Where she had changed so much, she scarcely recognized herself.

  But if she wasn’t a deghass, what was she?

  “TO DEFEAT THE HRUM,” the old smith told Sorahb, “the first thing you must do is hold the city of Mazad, for if it can hold for a year the Hrum will retreat. Besides, the people there have resisted bravely and do not deserve to be taken into slavery for their courage.”

  “This I have already planned to do,” said Sorahb. “But I will go to them now, for at the dame time as I assist them, they will be able to help my army.”

  Sorahb went then to the city of Mazad. The country folk smuggled him, along with the men the old smith had trained, into the city, though the smith declared himself too old for such adventures.

  In Mazad, Sorahb rallied the siege-weary people to the city’s defense and set his men to teach Mazad’s skilled smiths to make the lightning swords.

  Hammers rang throughout the days and nights, and a new determination arose in the hearts of Mazad’s citizens, to fight to the end and beyond if need be, for the legendary Sorahb had come to lead them.

  But one man in the city was not pleaded. Several loyal guardsmen brought word to Sorahb that the governor of Mazad was himself in league with the Hrum and plotted to bring the city down.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  KAVI

  THE GIRL WAS RIGHT, Kavi thought, watching the Hrum guards watch him as he hiked up the road to the siege camp. He hadn’t been doing enough spying lately. He was out of practice—or perhaps his memory was failing him, for he didn’t remember being quite this scared the last time he pulled a stunt like this.

  “Halt and state your business,” the guard demanded.

  Kavi thrust fear to the back of his mind. Just an honest peddlerspy—nothing to worry about.

  “I’ve business with the commander,” he said. “It’s not urgent, but if you’d be fetching your decimaster I can tell him what it is.”

  The two sentries looked at each other. No doubt they resented a mere peddler questioning their authority, and Kavi was prepared to spend as long as they wanted arguing about it. The Hrum army’s proper procedure claimed that anyone had a right to request to see the centrimaster who commanded the current watch, but Kavi knew that in reality few guards wanted to take the trouble to track down their commander, and no decimaster wanted to bring his superior some minor matter that the guards could have taken care of themselves. With luck Kavi could pass several marks here at the gate, listening in on conversations as others came and went and chatting with passersby.

  “You wait here,” said one of the sentries. “I’ll get the decimaster.”

  The man trotted off, almost before Kavi recovered his wits enough to shout, “It’s not urgent!” at his retreating back. He turned to the remaining sentry. “I wouldn’t want to pull the decimaster from something important,” he added apologetically.

  The sentry shrugged. “He’s commander of this watch unit. He’s supposed to be ready to attend such matters.”

  Kavi’s brows rose. “He’s maybe supposed to be, but I’ve never seen a watch commander who didn’t have better things to do—or at least claimed he did.”

  The sentry grinned. “Not under the new substrategus command, they don’t.”

  Kavi swore silently. He’d been present as a witness at the meeting where Garren had reassigned command of the siege camp, and he had judged from Patrius’ expression that Tactimian Laon was at best only slightly better than the idiot he’d replaced. The new efficiency of the patrols and guards had shown Kavi that Laon was more competent than Patrius had believed, but who’d have thought any crony of Garren’s would run a camp this strict?

  Kavi just hoped that when the old commander, Substrat
egus Arus, left he had taken all of his men with him. If anyone here recognized Kavi as the merchant who’d sold the camp drugged beer last summer … The centris were supposed to move with their commanders, but the way the Hrum were shuffling men around these days, it was hard to be certain.

  Memory of the protest that at that same meeting had gotten Patrius assigned to the thankless task of chasing down Sorahb’s army made Kavi wonder how his friend was doing. It felt odd to be hoping passionately for the man’s personal safety, while at the same time hoping equally passionately for the total failure of his mission. But the truth was that Kavi liked the Hrum officer far more than he liked Commander Jiaan. Of course, Jiaan had been trying to kill him since they first met—with only a brief hiatus while they escorted the lady Soraya to the hidden croft—so the comparison wasn’t really fair.

  But Kavi still wouldn’t be able to forgive himself or Jiaan—unfair as that might be—if Patrius died. The worst thing about this spying business was that eventually you came to care for people on both sides—and only one could win.

  Was the lady Soraya perhaps coming to care for the deghan family who had taken her in? He hadn’t been entirely fair to her, either, Kavi admitted. He was tired of betraying people, but he saw no other choice—not if he wanted his folk to finally come out on top.

  Kavi put down his dusty pack and sat on it, with the relaxed air of a man with plenty of time. “So, are you making any headway with this siege of yours? You’ve been here more than half a year now …”

  THE DECIMASTER TOOK one look at the tattoo on Kavi’s arm and immediately took him in search of the centrimaster, despite Kavi’s protest that his news wasn’t urgent. Once when he really had had urgent news, he’d had to argue his way through half a dozen officers to reach this level. Now that he wanted nothing more than to spend a few days here, the decimaster led him through the siege camp at a pace so brisk that he couldn’t observe anything without making his interest obvious.

  They were working on more ladders, but then they’d had their ladders when Giv was wounded—killed, really, though it had taken him several days to die. Kavi saw no sign of the battering rams Siddas had told him to look for when he’d approved this insanity, but the rams might be in another part of the camp. Or maybe Nehar had gotten word to the Hrum about the barrels of pitch Siddas was holding in reserve for the day a ram showed up, and they’d adopted other, less desperate plans. Looking for rams was one of the reasons Siddas had agreed to let Kavi do this. Another was the chance to smuggle a message, and the first bundle of watersteel swords, to someone who would take them to Commander Jiaan.

  But it was really the hope of learning something—anything!—about Nehar’s plans that had brought Kavi here. However, if he was going to learn anything, he’d have to stay for at least a few days.

  The centrimaster listened attentively to Kavi’s account of the rumor that Sorahb had taken all his army and fled into the desert.

  “I believe the commander knows that already,” he said.

  That’s why I’m telling it to you.

  “But I’ll take you to the command tent, and as soon as he has a spare moment you can tell him about it. The substrategus may have some questions that I haven’t thought to ask.”

  Kavi blinked. “But I don’t know any more than I just … Wait a moment. I thought Tactimian Laon was … well, a tactimian. Did he get promoted?” He stopped walking, forcing the centrimaster to stop too.

  “Tactimian Laon was removed from command over a month ago. Substrategus Barmael has replaced him. And I don’t intend to keep him waiting, so if you’ll follow me?”

  “Yes,” said Kavi, forcing his feet into motion. The man’s approval of his new commander showed, even through the impatient formality of his tone. “That explains … I see.”

  His mind spun. Barmael was Patrius’ immediate commander, and Patrius had told Kavi a bit about the man—all of it good. No wonder the security of the siege was so much improved. But from the hints Patrius had dropped, Barmael was one of the officers who opposed Garren. He was also one of the Hrum’s most competent battle commanders. Garren had said something, in that tense meeting Kavi had witnessed, about replacing Laon when the time for the assault drew near. A chill raced over Kavi’s skin, and he struggled to keep his expression relaxed as he followed the centrimaster through the muddy, bustling streets. The assault was going to be soon. It was going to be soon, and Garren, despite his personal dislike of the man, had sent one of his best battle commanders to lead it. Never underestimate that man, Kavi reminded himself. Never.

  He’d known he would need at least a day or two to get the troops talking in his presence—to put together the information he needed without arousing suspicion. He’d thought it would take several days, perhaps even a week, before Tactimian Laon would deign to interview a humble spy who was reporting a rumor he already knew to be true. But now …

  Half a mark later Kavi was ushered into Substrategus Barmael’s presence. Somewhat to his surprise, he recognized the stocky, red-bearded man who had questioned the governor with such startling directness at the meeting Kavi had attended several months ago.

  “I understand that the rebel Sorahb has fled with his army into the desert,” Barmael’s voice rumbled. Kavi noted that Sorahb had been promoted from bandit to rebel, at least under Substrategus Barmael’s command. “Where did you first hear about this?”

  Question followed question, some of them alarmingly shrewd, as Barmael sought to determine Sorahb’s troop strength, plans, and how he was supplied. To most of them, Kavi replied truthfully that he didn’t know. Commander Jiaan had told him nothing he didn’t have to, and the rumors that circulated about the Farsalan army were vague. Sometimes they even contradicted each other.

  A few of the questions were more difficult. “Alliance with the Suud?” Kavi echoed, stalling for time to get his wits in order. “Not that I’ve heard. But then, I’ve never heard of anyone allying with them.”

  “They haven’t attacked our forces,” said the substrategus, which told Kavi that Patrius’ reports back to Garren probably passed through this man’s hands. “Even though I’ve been told that the Suud attack all outsiders who go into their territory.”

  Kavi shrugged. “That’s what the miners say, but if you listen close, you’ll hear that the miners were also attacking them. I’ve talked to others, not many but a few, who said that as long as they didn’t trouble the Suud, the Suud didn’t trouble them. Kept watching them, always, but they didn’t interfere.”

  With any luck the substrategus would pass that information on to Patrius, although Kavi couldn’t see Patrius attacking the Suud … unless the Suud got careless and were seen helping Jiaan, and Patrius realized that there was an alliance, and … Caring about people on all sides was hard.

  Eventually, even Substrategus Barmael ran out of questions. “You have nothing more to report?”

  Kavi, who felt like a cloth wrung dry by a washerwoman, shook his head. “You’ve already learned more than I thought I knew.”

  “Our thanks to you, then,” said the substrategus. “The centrimaster here will take you to the accounts clerk, who’ll see you paid. Then you can go.”

  Judging by the way Barmael’s camp was run, the centrimaster would see him past the sentries and down the road as well!

  “I paid for three days’ stabling for my mule,” Kavi protested. “I didn’t expect to be able to see you so soon. I thought I’d be able to do a bit of trading here in camp.” He gestured toward his pack, which he’d dropped by the door at the tent guard’s request when he entered.

  “You can do business in the town where your mule is,” said the substrategus. “The longer you’ve here, the greater the chance you’ll be revealed as our spy.”

  Trust this man to be the first Hrum commander to care about that!

  “But the rain’s starting, and, ah …”

  A commotion at the door of the tent interrupted Kavi’s racing thoughts—but far from trying to stop
the intruder, the guards stiffened to attention.

  Governor Garren, the strategus who commanded the whole Hrum conquest of Farsala, pushed the tent flaps aside and entered abruptly. “We’ve moving our plans forward,” he announced. “As quickly as possible.”

  Substrategus Barmael rose to his feet, eyes widening in surprise. The centrimaster straightened and laid his clenched fist over his heart in the Hrum salute. And Kavi took a step back, hoping to avoid the governor’s notice.

  Unfortunately, although Garren was more agitated than Kavi had ever seen him, he wasn’t a careless man. His gaze touched Kavis face and stopped. “You. I know you. You’ve Tactimian Patrius’ spy. What are you doing here?”

  Kavi fought down the impulse to say, Spying, of course. This wasn’t a man you teased. “I came to report a rumor. About Sorahb’s army having gone into the desert.”

  Cold eyes studied him intently, and Kavi suppressed a nervous urge to fidget.

  “It seems to me that you’ve reported a great many rumors,” said Garren slowly.

  Kavi shrugged. “That’s what spies do, mostly. Have I ever been wrong?”

  Given that he had only reported information the Hrum already had—in some cases information about his own activities, though well after the fact—Kavi was certain of the answer. Garren might not know that his reports were always good, but he clearly knew of no instance when Kavi had led them astray. “Very well, you may … No, stay here in camp. This is too important to risk any leaks.”

  “I report rumors—I don’t spread them,” Kavi lied indignantly. “I’d be pleased to stay for a few days, but I’m a peddler. I’ve rounds to keep.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Garren dryly. “We won’t detain you for more than a week. After that, it will no longer matter.”

  He turned away, clearly dismissing both Kavi and the rigid centrimaster, who took his arm and all but dragged him out of the tent.