At mid-day, a patrol from Talayan found them wending their way toward the city. The Japuran’s examined the slaves thoroughly and laughed at the looks they received.
“Look at that one, master Terriss,” the force leader for the Japuran lancers said pointing at Methrym. “He should fetch you three golds at least!”
The Japuran didn’t see the snarl of hate appear on Terriss’ face.
The Japuran lancers escorted them toward the city allowing only short stops for watering the mounts and the slaves—the slaves after the horses of course. The city came into sight at dusk. The towers and walls first, then the massive gates. Talayan was mighty indeed. A city built like a fortress by slaves. It had taken centuries of work and many thousands of deaths to complete. It sat in a rich valley surrounded by farms and their attendant villages, all of which supplied invincible Talayan with produce. The gate towers Methrym had planned to capture came and went, and he mourned their passing. If his plan had been followed, his coffle would be off and he would be happily killing Japurans now. Instead, he was depending on a half mad peasant—one he would take great delight in killing.
The city was impressive, he grudgingly concluded after passing through yet another market place. A city this size would need dozens like this, just to feed and clothe its people. He watched a detachment of city militia jog by the wagons on their way to some disturbance. He took note of the short swords and batons they carried. They wore only light armour and helms, carried no shields, and would be dog meat if, no when, Lorenz attacked. It was the lancers he had to worry about, not city militia that rarely dealt with anything more taxing than a drunken brawl. Japuran lancers were the bane of any Tanjung War Leader, and they always would be. They were regular troops, not simply conscripted peasants who spent most of their time devising ways to return home. Desertion from the lancers was death, but that was meaningless. No one wanted to desert from Talitha’s elite. They had the best horseflesh, and the best weapons the Matriarch could supply—which was very good indeed—and the best commanders. In short, lancers were respected and well paid with good prospects. Plus they lived longer. Good armour and leadership did have that effect.
Who would run from that?
They left the square and moved into another shadowy street. The buildings loomed high above him and blotted out the sky where the upper stories hung out over the street. They were so close together in some places that he was sure a thief could step from one rooftop to another across the street. There must have been over half a million people or more living within Talayan’s walls, but as the caravan travelled through the streets, the expected stink of humanity did not make itself known.
How was it possible?
He leaned over the side of the wagon trying to see the gutters. They were clean! Not one piece of rubbish or flotsam could he see, but there was something else that puzzled him. Every five yards or so, there were small openings going into the ground. Tunnels, why have tunnels? He learned part of the answer after the lancers left the caravan to continue on its way toward the slave pens. There were old men sluicing the streets—street cleaners—men who did nothing all night but wash the roads and gutters. It was unbelievable!
Truly, the Japurans were decadent, just as he had heard.
When they reached the slave pens, Methrym finally found something expected. They entered a compound through a heavy iron-barred gate where the wagons were unhitched and the horses led away. He swallowed trying not to gag at the stench of unwashed bodies. It was enough to make his horse swoon let alone him!
“Out you lazy bastards!” Terriss shouted and the other slavers took up the cry.
Methrym climbed down and looked around. The compound covered a huge area and the pens themselves were full to capacity. Overfull he would say. There were thousands of people crammed into a space fit for no more than a few hundred. There was standing room only in some of the pens, but the press of bodies prevented the weary slaves from slumping to the ground. No one should be treated this way, not even the much-hated Terriss.
Terriss and his men removed the coffles, and while a fat Japuran counted them, shoved Methrym and the others roughly into a crowded iron cage. Terriss suddenly froze and clenched his fists. Methrym whirled around to see what the man was staring at. There! In the corner was a group of women and children. He looked back in horror as Terriss started forward.
“You bastard! Stay away or I’ll kill you!” he shouted, frothing in rage.
Soren saw what was about to happen and moved some of the men to block the women and children from Terriss’ sight. One of his own men intercepted Terriss and whispered urgently into his ear. Terriss snarled something in reply, but whatever it was didn’t deter his friend. The man shook him roughly, but it was the attention of the puzzled slave master that finally snapped him back to reality.
“Good yes? The girls are especially sweet. Not quite ripe if you know what I mean?” the oily slave master said and winked in exaggeration.
Terriss grimaced but nodded. He knew what the slave master meant all right. Japurans didn’t care what they fucked. It was an old saying among his people that Japuran woman bedded Tanjuner men, while Japuran men bedded Tanjuner donkeys.
“Sell the mouthy one to me, and I’ll teach him his place for you,” the slave master said.
Terriss grinned as if considering it. Methrym held his breath for what seemed a lifetime, but Terriss finally shook his head, and he his breath whooshed out.
“I might be willing to take a loss on that one,” Terriss mused. “I might sell him to a brothel… as a eunuch!”
The Japuran cackled with glee. “A fitting punishment indeed!”
“Can I leave the wagons here? I’ll be watching the auction tomorrow to see how much this lot brings me.”
“Certainly my friend! Come along with me and have a drink.”
“Good of you,” Terriss said. “I am a little thirsty.”
“I have a bottle of the good stuff in my room…”
Methrym lost the rest of the conversation as Terriss entered one of the buildings lining the wall. Soren brought Methrym word a moment later that Terriss had succeeded in finding his family, but the question remained—was the plan still workable?
Only time would tell.
* * *
“And the sorcerers attacked without warning,” Vexin said.
“What happened then father?” Odrhan asked from his place under the covers.
It was late, but Odrhan had been taking an interest in history lately and Vexin thought it a good idea to encourage the interest. If a ruler wanted to avoid repeating mistakes, he needed to know of them and understand the reasons behind them.
A quiet tapping came from the door. Bothmar poked his head inside and beckoned. Vexin nodded and gestured the door closed.
“It’s time for you to be asleep, my son. I’ll continue the story tomorrow night. Now slide down so I can tuck you in.”
“I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me,” Odrhan said slyly.
Vexin chuckled as he tucked in the covers. A chip off the old block the boy was. “I’ll give you a hint then. The sorcerers had a bigger problem to solve… one that flies.”
“Dragons!” Odrhan squealed excitedly.
“Tomorrow,” Vexin said firmly and blew out the lamp.
“But I won’t be able to sleep!”
“Not to worry,” he said from the open doorway. “If you can’t sleep, I’ll have to stop keeping you up at night with these stories won’t I?”
“That’s not fair!”
“Sleep now, Odrhan, that’s an order from your emperor!” he said trying not to laugh.
“Yes lord,” Odrhan said with a put upon sigh.
Vexin closed the door and nodded to Bothmar. With the man a pace behind, he quickly made his way through the palace to his study. Bothmar had graduated to the group allowed into this room only recently when he produced a plan to secure the Japuran border for Odrhan and his future sons. As a reward, he ha
d given him permission to enter this room, and a bigger suit in the palace for his own use. Bothmar was unmarried, but it wasn’t inconceivable that he would find a woman to consort with. He would suggest it later. After all, Odrhan would need reliable men just as he did. A son of Bothmar’s would work very well. No such luck with Keppel though. He would never find someone willing to marry the Snake.
Vexin sat behind his desk and indicated to Keppel and Bothmar to sit also. He was more comfortable here than in the great hall. His throne might look impressive to others, but as the years went by he had found that soft cushions impressed him far more than hard marble and ornamentation.
“What have you for me, Keppel?”
“My lord, a tragic death in House Malim,” Keppel said mournfully. “It seems that Lord Vivika’s consort made a bad choice in her latest lover. The man was nothing but an opportunist. He murdered her and tried to steal her jewellery. He was killed trying to escape the grounds.”
“Oh no, that’s terrible!” Vexin said in shock.
He hoped it sounded like shock. He needed to practise so the lords would accept his innocence. If he didn’t know better though, he would swear that Keppel was truly sad to hear about the death of Lady Hakima. Perhaps he mourned not being allowed to kill her personally. That might be it.
“Draft my condolences to Lord Vivika, Bothmar, and I’ll sign it personally.”
“Yes my emperor,” Bothmar said with a straight face.
Vexin poured some wine. After a brief hesitation, he poured two more glasses. It never hurt to cement his people closer to him. He sat back behind his desk to savour the wine. He never drank to excess like some lords he could name, but he did like a small glass or two at the end of a good day’s work.
“Is there more to report?”
“Not concerning House Malim, my emperor,” Keppel said. “But I have news regarding the army.”
“It’s about time! Why has that imbecile Barthan been flouting my orders?”
“He hasn’t, my lord. Barthan and Methrym were poisoned and Methrym’s second took command. Soren ordered the raid in vengeance for Methrym.”
That was a little better. A revenge raid was at least understandable. What had worried him was the thought of House Baltu flouting his orders. If Lord Rodyn felt he could do that and get away with it, he knew he would be in serious jeopardy of losing the other lords. House Baltu was strong. Not as strong as House Malai, but the others houses respected Rodyn and would follow where he led.
The previous Lord Baltu had assassinated his father. Vexin never let himself forget that. He had killed that man, and made Rodyn what he is. In return, Rodyn had made House Baltu the most ardent supporter of House Malai and the emperor. Vexin however, watched Rodyn and all the noble houses like a hawk looking for the telltale signs of treachery. He had thought that the now confirmed rumour of a raid across the border was such a sign, but apparently not.
“Japuran assassins are known for their abilities, but they’re not good enough to walk into a camp held by eight thousand men I would judge.”
Keppel was pleased. “You are correct, my emperor. Methrym poisoned himself and Barthan. Barthan died, and Methrym was heard to scream for days before lapsing into unconsciousness.”
Vexin winced, that sounded very nasty indeed. He reminded himself to check his antidotes again.
“I know this drug,” Keppel went on. “There is no doubt that Methrym himself was the culprit. If he hadn’t been, he would be dead. As it was, he took a great risk. Upon awakening, he recalled Soren’s raiders and began a systematic plan of some kind.”
“Good. Time is wasting. When I see that young man again, I’m going to ask some pointed questions. If I don’t receive satisfactory answers, I’ll give him to you, Keppel.”
“Thank you, my emperor!”
Bothmar shivered at the anticipation in Keppel’s voice, and Vexin grinned. Keppel often had that effect on people. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and leaning forward to look over the edge into the abyss.
Scary.
“Do you know Methrym’s plan?”
“No, my emperor, but I’m sure he has everything under control.”
“I agree I think,” Vexin mused. “After the Elvissan affair last year, he will be doubly careful in keeping on top of things. I’m sure nothing will go wrong this time. It had better not.”
The three men drank a toast to Methrym’s success, and then went their separate ways. Vexin went to join his beloved wife Dulcinea in bed, Bothmar to his letter writing, and Keppel to his hobby of ornamental fish.
Each to his own, as Vexin would say.
* * *
Methrym glared through the bars at the bowmen on the walls. The moon was half full, but enough light made its way through the clouds for him to watch them silhouetted against the sky.
“Any sign, Cous?” Soren said quietly.
“Not yet,” he replied without taking his eyes from the bowmen.
Terriss hadn’t reappeared, and neither had any of his men come back from their trip into the city. He prayed to the God for Lorenz to hold the hotheads away from Talayan until he received the signal. If he didn’t, all would be for nothing.
“How did the slaves… the real slaves take it?” he asked his cousin in a whisper.
Soren shrugged. It was a movement barely seen in the gloom. The torches, what few were lit, were not for the convenience of the slaves. They were there so the bowmen could peruse the merchandise to keep from falling asleep. He would like to make them sleep forever.
“About as you would expect. Mostly disbelief at first followed by hope. They’re willing to help, but the children will be a hindrance.”
The pressure Methrym exerted on his jaw was in danger of breaking teeth. He forced himself to release the anger so he might think better.
“No one is staying in this… this cesspit!” he said furious at the very idea. “Not while I can do something about it.”
“I didn’t mean—” Soren began.
“I know, forgive my temper cousin. If Terriss had followed orders, we would be sacking this shit hole by now!”
“A sack!” Soren voice rose in surprise.
“Keep your voice down!” he hissed.
Soren glanced quickly at the guards and lowered his voice. “A sack? I thought we were going to raid the place and run.”
Soren’s reaction would have been amusing under other circumstances, but nothing here was the least amusing. If things didn’t start happening soon, he might well find himself a slave for the rest of his life. It would be short, he would see to that, and take as many Japurans with him as he could.
“I never planned a raid, cousin. I told you that in the beginning. You saw Vexin’s orders. He specifically asked for a small war, not a raid. I’ve decided to burn this stinking place to the ground—after we steal everything not nailed down of course.”
Soren chuckled but he smothered it. Laughing was foreign to this place of misery, and might draw unwanted attention.
Methrym completely missed the thing he had been looking for. Not surprising really, he was looking toward the north wall, but it was behind him that the first of the borderers struck. One moment there was a guard standing upon the wall fantasising about what he would do if he could afford one of the women in the pens below, the next, a borderer stood in his place. It all happened so fast that none of the other guards noticed a thing until the borderers had control of the southern wall. The first Japuran to realise something was wrong, was standing on the north wall above the gate, but he didn’t shout the alarm, he couldn’t, he had a Japuran war arrow through his larynx.
Methrym hissed in excitement as the guards fell to arrows. One or two flew back, but from the lack of outcry he assumed, incorrectly, that they had all missed. In fact, two of Terriss’ men fell that night, but neither cried out. They died in silence to give their families a last gift and hope of escape. In no time at all, the walls were devoid of Japurans.
Terriss
ran out of a building with a ring of keys that jingled as he raced to find the correct one. Finally, after three attempts at the lock on Methrym’s cage, he found it and opened the door. Methrym dove out and struck the man full in the face with his entire weight behind the blow. Terriss flew back from the force of the punch, but he rolled to his feet with a dagger in hand. Blood was flowing freely from his broken nose and pulped lips.
“Betray me again, and I will kill you!” Methrym growled. “Open the others.”
Terriss threw the keys to one of his men.
Soon all the slaves were free of the cages, and Methrym detailed men to help with the little ones. The armour and weapons were reclaimed from under the wagons while he urged them to greater speed.
“Quiet!” he hissed and the excited murmurs were silenced. “I’m going to burn this stinking place to the ground. I’ll not leave our people behind in chains. All those willing to fight, step forward.” As one, the entire body of ex-slaves moved forward—even the women with babes in arms. He shook his head in annoyance. “All right, the men then—those without family here.”
There was a rumble of agreement and hate from the slaves—ex-slaves now—and he realised they were his. They were more his at this moment than his own men were.
Soren helped to prop the iron gate open and keep watch. He nodded to Methrym and went through quietly. The men without families to protect ran silent as death down the connecting streets. Methrym shivered. The Japurans, those that lived beyond this night, would never again be able to look at a slave without remembering Talayan.
With Soren at his side, Methrym made his way quietly toward the main gates of the city. Having his armour and sword back made him feel better, but by no means secure. He had thousands willing to fight, but only his original force was armed with swords. More than once a pedestrian started to give the alarm on sighting them, but Terriss’ bowmen turned them into pincushions before they could utter more than a startled cry of surprise. Upon sighting the gate towers, he held the bowmen back with the women and children. He stood in the shadows at the mouth of the alley trying to decide how many guards he would be facing.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 80
