by David Weber
“It’s all a question of who controls the new route,” Varnaythus told him now. “I think you’re right; it’s progressed too far for anyone to stop it now. And I don’t think my...employers to the south, shall we say, are going to be happy about that.” He held out his right hand above the table, palm down, and waggled it from side to side. “In fact, I think they’re going to be very unhappy, but I believe I’d be able to endure their sorrow if it happened I’d been able to make even better arrangements for myself somewhere else.” He smiled at Arthnar. “And by the strangest coincidence, I believe I may have found a way to do just that.”
“Have you now?” Arthnar sat back, running the fingers of his right hand through his beard and considering his guest speculatively.
“If it should happen that Tellian and Bahnak’s expedition into the Ghoul Moor suffered a sufficiently unfortunate accident, it might well put the entire project back for several years.” Varnaythus’ smile grew thinner and more sharklike. “I doubt even that would manage to stop it in the long term, but it would probably be the best-case outcome from my employers’—my current employers’, I mean—perspective, and I’ve made certain arrangements which may actually be enough to bring it about. I’d say the chances are at least close to even, in fact, although I’d never be foolish enough to promise they’ll succeed. If they do, however, I’m sure everyone will be happy to maintain our existing relationships. On the other hand,” he waggled his hand again, “my arrangements may not succeed, which is why I think Baron Cassan’s plan has something to recommend it. If something should...happen to King Markhos and Prince Yurokhas—something tragic and unfortunate, you understand—and if Baron Cassan had been able to reach an understanding with Baron Borandas before that happened, then it’s almost certain either Cassan or, more likely, Yeraghor would end up being named Crown Prince Norandhor’s—I’m sorry, King Norandhor’s—regent. And if that should happen, then the Crown would step in and demand control of the entire canal.”
“And you actually think that might happen?” Arthnar gave a crack of scornful laughter. “Yeraghor and Cassan might—might!—be able to force Tellian to surrender his stake in in it if they control the Great Council, but Bahnak and Kilthan?” The Fire Oar shook his head. “Either one of them alone would tell those two piss-ants to pound sand! Both of them together would invite them to bring their damned army down the Escarpment and try to enforce that little ‘demand’ of theirs!”
“Really?” Varnaythus cocked his head. “You think Bahnak would risk the destruction of everything he and his father have spent their entire lives building? Because that’s what any Sothōii army would really have in mind if it came ‘down the Escarpment,’ and Bahnak would know that as well as you and I do. And then there’s Kilthan. Do you think the King Emperor would thank the head of one of the Empire’s trading houses for embroiling the Axemen in a war with the Empire’s most important ally over a trade route?”
Arthnar looked suddenly more thoughtful, and Varnaythus leaned back in his chair and rested his forearm comfortably on the table.
“Bahnak might,” the Fire Oar said after a moment. “He’s hradani, and he’s stubborn, and with all the northern clans united at his back, he’d probably figure—rightly, I think—that he’d have a damned good chance at beating the horse boys, especially with someone like Cassan commanding them in the field. But I hadn’t thought about the King Emperor. He wouldn’t thank Kilthan for dragging the Empire into that kind of a position, would he?”
“I think that’s probably putting it mildly,” Varnaythus agreed. “And if Kilthan wound up advising Bahnak to accept the Crown decree in return for a smaller but still quite tasty slice of the pie, Bahnak’s probably a practical enough fellow to take the advice. After all, it’s going to be a very large pie, isn’t it? Large enough that Kilthan, Bahnak, the Sothōii—and you—could all carve off bigger chunks than you’ve ever seen before. It’s not that Cassan has any objection to Axeman merchants being able to trade directly with the Spearmen without having to go through the Purple Lords, you know. It’s not even that he has any objection to the Axemen making money hand over fist. He only objects to all of the profit from that money going into Tellian’s purse instead of his own. And he’s a reasonable man. All of you could make quite a comfortable profit off of the trade, and it would still be far cheaper for the Axemen—and the Spearmen, for that matter—than the existing arrangement.”
Arthnar nodded, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. It wasn’t a nod of agreement, Varnaythus knew, but it was one of understanding.
The Fire Oar took another thoughtful swallow of ale, then gave the wizard a very sharp look, indeed.
“Assuming all of this was going to work half as well as Cassan seems to be expecting, why does he need me? I’d sooner not go wading around in a Sothōii swamp. They tend to be full of snakes with horse bows and lots of nasty, pointy arrows. And that notion of something unfortunate happening to Markhos and Yurokhas...why do I have the feeling Cassan thinks I might be stupid enough to provide it?”
“It’s not so much that he needs you to provide it,” Varnaythus said, “as that he needs someone besides himself to provide it. He can scarcely assassinate the King and the Prince and then expect to be named regent, now can he?”
“And there’s some reason you think the Sothōii wouldn’t burn Krelik and Palan even flatter than Bahnak and Tellian if it happened they thought I’d had anything to do with killing their King?” Arthnar snorted harshly. “No, thank you, Master Talthar. There are simpler and less messy ways of committing suicide!”
“I didn’t say he needed it to be you,” Varnaythus said patiently. “But it does have to be someone from outside the Kingdom. Actually, he’s thinking in terms of a double feint, as it were.”
“Overly clever idiots always make me nervous,” Arthnar grunted, and Varnaythus nodded in agreement.
“Oh, you’re right about that,” he said. “But what Cassan really needs from you is for you to act as...a broker, or perhaps an expediter. Very much the way you did in that attempt on Tellian earlier this summer.”
Their eyes met across the table, and Varnaythus smiled faintly.
“I’m afraid Cassan was just a bit miffed when he realized how cleverly you’d managed to suggest he was the one behind the attack. Personally, I rather enjoyed the irony, since he was the one who’d paid for it, after all. He didn’t quite see it that way, though.” The wizard shrugged. “But after he’d thought about it for a while, it suggested another possibility to him. He wants you to recruit the manpower he’s going to need—hire as many Spearman mercenaries as you can in the time you have, and see who you can pick up from the Border Kingdoms, as well. But you could still fill out the numbers with your own River Brigands...as long as none of them know you’re the one hiring them.”
“And who would actually be hiring them? Officially, I mean?” Arthnar’s eyes had narrowed and he was frowning intensely.
“Why, the Purple Lords, of course!” Varnaythus smiled more broadly. “Obviously, they’ve decided the King is going to support Tellian after all, and they’ve taken steps to prevent the destruction—the total destruction, when you come down to it—of their trade monopoly. Not hard to understand why they might feel that way, given that their entire economy depends on that monopoly, now is it? Of course, after Cassan—the new Regent, I mean, whoever he happens to be—discovers who was behind it, the knowledge will only make him even more determined to push the canal through and see that it operates under the Crown’s aegis as a way to crush the Purple Lords completely.”
“That might work.” Arthnar stroked his beard again, brown eyes half-shut while the brain behind them raced through the possibilities. “Assuming he could actually sell the notion that the Purple Lords were behind it, of course. And,” the Fire Oar added grudgingly, “it would actually make a kind of sense, I suppose. But you said he was thinking about a double feint.”
“Oh, indeed I did.” This time Varnaythus’ sm
ile was positively beatific. “That’s why we have to put this entire operation together so quickly. Tellian’s placed his hunting lodge at Chergor at the King’s disposal, and Markhos will be taking himself off to spend some time there in another few weeks. After how hectic the spring session’s been in Sothōfalas, he wants to keep things as simple as possible, too, so he’s taking only his personal guard and a handful of his senior advisors, like Macebearer and Shaftmaster. He’s planning on staying there for quite some time, hiding from all those damned courtiers, so we’ll know where to find him for—oh, at least two months or so. And, of course, Chergor’s in the West Riding, now isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Arthnar acknowledged slowly.
“Well, at this moment Tellian and the others believe Markhos is going to approve their operation and grant the canal a Crown charter on their terms. It’s all supposed to be a secret, of course, but you know how secrets have a way of leaking at court. Especially when someone makes it his business to get behind the effort and encourage the leaks. I’m afraid, however, that Cassan’s come into possession of a draft charter—one in the handwriting of the King’s personal secretary, not the Prime Councilor’s—which actually happens to establish exactly the sort of arrangement I was just discussing with you a few moments ago. Now, clearly Tellian would be horribly upset to discover the King had reached that decision when the good Baron had been confidently expecting to get everything he wanted. Why, he might actually be upset enough to decide to murder the King—and blame it on the Purple Lords, of course—and to substitute a forged charter more in line with all of those rumors. In fact, it might turn out he’d planted those rumors himself expressly so he could substitute that forgery of his and have people accept it. And as part of his despicable plot, he generously offered to loan his hunting lodge to the King in order to get him into a comfortable spot to be assassinated. It might be a little risky of him to have it all happen on his own lands, but he’d know he could control the situation there...and he’d undoubtedly be counting on how his long friendship with Prince Yurokhas—and Yurokhas’ known antipathy for Cassan—would lead Yurokhas to accept his version of what happened. Under the King’s will, Yurokhas would become Norandhor’s regent, so if Tellian was able to convince Yurokhas the Purple Lords—or even, perhaps, Baron Cassan—had been behind it, he’d undoubtedly get everything he wanted all along.”
“No one who actually knows Tellian would believe that for a moment,” Arthnar said, but his tone was thoughtful, not an objection.
“Perhaps not, but how many people do actually know him?” Varnaythus riposted. “And the gods know ambition can make a man do strange things. For that matter, Tellian’s used up a huge amount of his credit with the more conservative lords warden over this business with Bahnak and his friendship with Prince Bahzell. None of the conservatives are happy with that, and they’re going to be even less happy when the word finally leaks out to the Kingdom as a whole that Tellian’s daughter is actually sleeping with Bahzell!”
“She’s what?” Arthnar blinked in astonishment, and Varnaythus allowed himself a laugh.
“That’s exactly what she’s doing, and when the real conservatives find out, they’re probably going to think she should’ve gone ahead and bedded a donkey, instead. It certainly wouldn’t have been any worse, by their way of thinking, and given the way diehard Sothōii think, the insult and ‘perversion’ involved in that is far more likely to generate disgust and revulsion than any mere matter of high treason and murder! And the political infighting in Sothōfalas this year’s been the bitterest anyone can remember, Arthnar. Tellian’s opponents are going to be more than ready to believe the worst, especially if believing it—however ridiculous it might be—lets them knock him out of the saddle. For that matter, given the nastiness of the fight, even some of Tellian’s supporters are likely to find themselves wondering how far he might be willing to go to win, especially given that charter Cassan will ‘find.’ After all, if he’s discovered that the King’s been playing him along all the while—that he’s actually decided to support Cassan and only pretended to be favoring Tellian to put him off guard—who knows how he might have reacted? All of that’s going to be running through the backs of their brains, whether they think it’s likely or not. However you look at it, tensions are going to run high, suspicion is going to be everywhere, and fingers are going to be pointing in every imaginable direction while people look for enemies and try to square old accounts. If the North Riding throws its support to Cassan and Yeraghor on the Great Council, that should be enough to carry the day at least long enough to get one of them named Regent. And once one of them is named Regent, Tellian is done.”
Arthnar sat back in his own chair, tugging at his beard while he thought hard. He stayed that way for the better part of three minutes, then refocused his gaze on Varnaythus.
“That all sounds well and good, and it might even work. But I’m not prepared to just write Tellian off. He’s too tough a customer, and much as I might like to see his head on a pike somewhere, I’m not stupid enough to underestimate him. There’s not an ounce of give in him, and if someone starts accusing him of murdering the King, he’s not going to sit back and take it.”
“He might, if the alternative were a return to the Time of Troubles,” Varnaythus pointed out. “Especially if Cassan and Yeraghor were to officially declare that since there’s no real proof he was behind it, they personally were prepared to take his word that he wasn’t. With the understanding, of course, that if he raises a ruckus they’ll decide not to take his word.”
“He might, and if pigs had wings they ‘might’ be pigeons!” Arthnar snorted. “More likely, though, he’d call out his armsmen and cut a swath clear across the South Riding on his way to the East Riding!”
“He might,” Varnaythus replied, deliberately reusing the same two words. “If he was alive, of course.”
“Excuse me? Was there some part of this master plan you’d forgotten to mention to me?” Arthnar demanded caustically.
“Well, ideally, Baron Cassan will become aware—belatedly, I’m afraid—that a large body of mercenaries has crossed part of the South Riding on its way towards Chergor. One of the mercenaries in question will have fallen into his hands, perhaps. Or possibly the poor fellow fell off his horse and broke his neck, and Cassan’s armsmen found some incriminating document in his saddle bag. At any rate, Cassan will discover that this body of mercenaries is headed towards Chergor, apparently in the Purple Lords’ pay, although that could turn out to be purely a clever bit of camouflage on the part of someone else, like, oh, Baron Tellian. Knowing His Majesty is at Chergor, Cassan will immediately call out his own armsmen and ride in pursuit to attempt to rescue the King. He’ll send a warning to Balthar, too, of course—the fact that he and Tellian have their differences couldn’t possibly be allowed to stand in the way of protecting the King! Unfortunately, it’s a long way from Toramos to Balthar, so it’s most unlikely his messenger will be able to get there in time.
“Meanwhile, Cassan will ride hell-for-leather for Chergor in person. Hopefully, despite his heroic efforts, he’ll arrive just too late, and the mercenaries will have killed everyone at Chergor, including Baron Tellian who—in this version, of course—will have fallen fighting desperately in the King’s defense against the Purple Lords’ assassins. Should that have happened, Cassan will do his level best to take at least some of the assassins alive to be interogated before magi and prove he had nothing to do with the plot. If, however, Cassan is unlucky enough to arrive before that moment, or if it should happen the King’s guard manages to fight off the mercenaries, then Cassan will discover that Tellian was actually behind it. And when he summons Tellian to surrender to give an account of this tragic assassination to the Great Council, Tellian will refuse and be killed by the loyal armsmen trying to take him into custody. Of course, the King will have to already be dead before that happens to make everything work out properly, but I’m sure Cassan can handle a little creati
ve rearrangement of the chronology if he has to.
“As far as Baron Cassan is concerned, either of those outcomes is quite acceptable, although he’d obviously prefer the first one. If Tellian doesn’t happen to be at Chergor, instead—he hasn’t been home to Balthar in quite some time, and it’s entirely possible he’ll be off on a visit at the critical moment—then Cassan would be forced to fall back on the charter in his possession to prove—or at least strongly suggest—Tellian’s involvement. Obviously, it would be far more convenient if he didn’t have to do that.”
“And Yurokhas and Trianal?”
“I think it’s entirely possible both of them might end up dead even before the King, given the little surprise I’ve arranged on the Ghoul Moor.” Varnaythus smiled unpleasantly. “It’s a remarkably nasty surprise, if I do say so myself. And on top of that, I understand Baron Cassan has sent a rather skilled specialist of his own—a man who’s very good with an arbalest or a horse bow—to attend to the Prince. I’m sure that if the opportunity presents itself, Sir Trianal will receive the same treatment.”
“There are an awful lot of separate moving parts to this strategy of Cassan’s,” Arthnar observed. From his tone—and from the look in the narrowed eyes gazing at Varnaythus—an unbiased witness might have concluded that the Fire Oar was less than convinced Cassan had come up with the idea all on his own. “Any one of them, or all of them, could come apart.”
“That’s possible,” Varnaythus conceded. “I think it’s highly unlikely all of them would fail, however. They might, and I won’t pretend that couldn’t happen, but how much worse off would you be if it did?”
“You mean if King Markhos, and Baron Tellian, and Prince Yurokhas, and Bahnak, and Bahzell, and Kilthan, and the gods only know who else, all survive and every one of them wants my blood for helping Cassan try to kill them?” Arthnar asked acidly.
