They raced all the way and just made it with the whole train on their heels. A wall of rain was already blotting out most of the valley when they rounded a rocky bluff and came on the farmhouse. The boys helped to unload the mules before scampering for cover as the first heavy drops began to fall.
"Come on, lads, over ‘ere."
They followed the sound of Faradan's invitation across the gloomy room and eventually made out the dim forms of the drivers. There were no lamps lit and little light came through the unshuttered windows. The storm had brought temporary darkness, along with the swish and scent of heavy spring rain. Faces began to take shape, then a table and benches, and then gradually the impression of a large room with many empty tables and a sloping roof that disappeared high overhead.
"Here, have a mug of Rails special brew," Fillitin offered. "It's weak, but it does it’s best. Bread and cheese on that table over there. Supper'll be a few hours yet."
Thunder grumbled intermittently overhead as they ate. The rain turned to hail and back to rain again. As soon as it stopped, the boys were outside, Berin leading off at a run down through the soaking meadows to the lake.
"We should have brought rods." Caldar said regretfully, when they saw the quiet surface disturbed by ring after ring of rising fish.
"There’ll be other days," his friend replied. They exchanged a smile of pure delight, intoxicated by the mere anticipation of the pleasures crowding around them.
They talked and watched the ever changing shapes of cloud and mountain grow rosy and then turn slowly to flat black and white, mirrored in the quiet water. Lights were showing in the farm when they walked back and by this time there was a crowd inside, some of them Taccen's hands whom Caldar knew well. A general air of festivity pervaded the room, as the news brought by each mule train was as welcome as the food. Caldar found himself strangely tired and almost fell asleep over supper.
"It's the altitude," Berin commented in a superior tone. "Always affects the newcomers."
Caldar was too sleepy even to respond to the banter; but he registered Berin coming to bed straight after him and smiled himself to sleep.
The next morning Hamdrim came over to sit astride a bench at their table while they were having breakfast.
"Well, lads. What's it to be? Helping Dexis in the cheese-house, ditching, or one of the milk runs?"
"The cheese-house," Berin said firmly, knowing that he was in a good position to wheedle a little fishing time out of Dexis.
"Right." Hamdrim stood up and stretched. "Get along there when you've finished. Tell Dexis I sent you and I want Lasdo out at the cowsheds."
Sunlight was already streaming in through the doorway when they stepped outside into the full beauty of the Rails. A perfect blue sky arched overhead and the dew-soaked meadows at their feet were still striped with the long cool shadows of early morning. Startling turquoise water brimmed in the small lake below and flashed here and there among the pastures and forests which rolled away into the distance. To their right soared the rocky summits of the Rails themselves, their towers black silhouettes rimmed by sunlight. On the opposite side the craggy slopes were breached in several places by rivers feeding down from the big snow mountains, whose inquisitive summits poked over the valley rim.
It was certainly lovely. Quiet, at that time of day, it was not. There were cows bawling nearby. Dogs barking. Men whistling and shouting. A continual clattering and banging from inside the sheds. And to underscore it all, a steady rumble from a large building next to the farmhouse, the only noise unfamiliar to Caldar.
"That's the butter-making." Berin didn’t even wait for him to ask. "The churns are really big here. Come on, let’s get started. Maybe Dexis’ll let us off early this afternoon.”
They ran across the yard and into the most unrelenting work Caldar had ever done.
Karkor, Capital of the Empire
Imperial Princess Shkosta let her maid go through the motions of dressing her for the banquet, while her mind ran over the decision once more.
The power structure in Karkor was broad-based, just as she had been told. Her grandfather’s position was still supreme, but as his health deteriorated, his authority was increasingly being devolved to the Imperial Council and the Army High Command and upheld by the tacit support of the nobility led by the Six Families. Altogether it represented a formidable fortress, cemented by collective interests, on which it would be difficult for her to make much impression.
She had to find a lever, and instinctively she was sure that the choice she had made when she first arrived in the capital had been right. She could recall every detail of that day, her first official occasion at court a year ago, when she had attended her father’s burial.
“Fine funeral, Saldix.”
“It’s a sad homecoming for you, Princess.” the old priest quavered. He could not walk unaided now, and he was almost blind. It was the young red-robed acolyte supporting his arm who gazed in open admiration at the stunning woman facing them in the shadowed temple. Dark hair, colour gleaming among the black, subtle as a raven’s wing, large expressive eyes, perfect features and a body that contrived to be both slender and voluptuous.
Shkosta ignored her admirer, her attention given solely to the Archpriest, the Saldix. “The ceremony’s tired you out, Raffel. You really shouldn’t take on so much. Surely someone can stand in for you now and again, when it’s not important.”
“But your father’s funeral is important, your Highness. He was the Crown Prince and it’s my duty to officiate at major ceremonies involving the Imperial family. . .” The frail figure in Ajeddak scarlet and black trembled as he spoke earnestly of his devoted service to the Habbakal family.
‘Not long now, old man,’ the princess thought, her face a picture of friendly concern. Someone must be ready to step into this dodderer’s shoes, but she hadn’t yet had a chance to find out who. She had only been back in Karkor a week and there were so many things she needed to know: the leading candidate for the next Saldix was just one of them. Well, now that her father was dead, she was the natural heir to the Leopard Throne, the only Habbakal left in the direct line, and one way or another she should be able to get her questions answered quickly.
Later the same day she was already doubting that judgement. Did everything take so long in this kingdom? Or was it just the War Council that was a collection of feckless old women? No, old men, she corrected herself: she was the only woman there. She looked around, maintaining the demure expression calculated to charm any of the old farts not yet too senile to notice her. From her place at the far end of the huge table – that much she had insisted on as her grandfather’s representative, a seat at the council table – she could only see one man who interested her. He was thin, half bald, and wearing the plainest uniform on show, a modest black with a single silver bar on his right shoulder. The others had ignored him throughout, addressing him only as ‘colonel’ when forced to reply to one of his rare and penetrating comments.
‘He’s the only one who sees we haven’t a hope of winning this war,' Shkosta mused as the interminable meeting dragged on. ‘He wraps it up, but then what could he say to a roomful of senior ranks who sit on their brains? They think they just have to ride over to Graxi and the Quezmas will be so frightened by all those fancy uniforms they’ll sue for peace. What chance for the Empire in hands like these? Just as well I’m here and not my brandy-pickled father or there’d be nothing left to inherit.’
At last the meeting faltered to an end. The princess left the room first as protocol demanded, then sent a servant to intercept Colonel Theyn – Baron Hexper had supplied her with the name and enough information to make identification easy – and bring him to one of the private family rooms.
“Colonel Theyn at your service, your Highness.” The man in the black uniform introduced himself and waited, relaxed, just inside the door. Shkosta let the silence spin out as she examined him to see how much he would reveal under such obvious scrutiny. The colonel, she s
aw, was weighing her as well, and when he let his appreciation show, she laughed.
“Come in and be seated, colonel. No, don’t bother with this hand-kissing business. Excuse my directness, but I have a great deal to accomplish and the sooner we understand each other the better. You are wondering why I summoned you. Well, that was the first and last meeting of the War Council I will be attending. And yet as the heir to the throne I need to know about all the important business of the Empire, including this coming war. Now you appeared to me to be the best informed person at that council and the only one with a realistic appraisal of our situation. How is that, colonel?”
The man hesitated, clearly off-balance before this unexpected frankness and the sudden question.
“Well your Highness, perhaps I am better placed to form such appraisals than….”
“No diplomacy, please. Why are you better placed than your superiors? Your sources are better? Or you’re not totally senile? Humour me, Colonel, and explain – I know nothing of you or your position in our great military structure." This was a lie. She had been pointed specifically in his direction. "Believe me, this is a totally private conversation, so feel free to be as frank as you wish.”
This last was accompanied by a winning smile to which the colonel responded, though she could still sense the wariness.
“Very well, your Highness. I am in charge of the Special Forces.” Seeing her enquiring look, he continued, “We fill the gap between the army and the civil police, deal with treason, foreign spies, smuggling, any crime too big for the police or any insurrection too small for the army. Suppressing the Mederro rebellion for instance is an army matter.”
“And so doomed to failure.” He made no comment at the crisp assessment, so she continued. “I must assume your unit is new, as I don’t remember it from when I left Karkor twelve years ago.”
He nodded. “It didn’t exist then, your Highness.”
She had to speed this up, he was replying by rote. Hexper had told her that this man and his Special Forces could be a valuable source of information. Right now that was what she needed above all. Shock or charm? Charm today, shock tomorrow, she thought, as she let her slender hands flutter into her lap and allowed a slight uncertainty to creep into her speech.
“Forgive me, colonel, I’m going too fast. I’m not trained to conceal my anxieties. I have been away from court for a long time, among simple folk who are free to speak their minds. Now I suddenly find myself in a position of importance in a kingdom whose affairs are virtually unknown to me, as are the major decision-makers, and where everyone is so busy and so afraid of putting a foot wrong that I can get no sensible answers to my questions. So perhaps you can understand why I need help and why I singled out the only man in sight who looked as though he might be able to give it to me.”
The colonel relaxed a little. “I would be glad to assist you in any way I can, your Highness.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” The princess left the hint of vulnerability in her voice, as she launched into a longer, more circuitous line of questions, which established that the colonel and his Special Forces were indeed one of the instruments she was looking for. Set up ten years previously when the army and the police could not agree who was to deal with some nasty little incidents in rural Dendria, the unit had grown swiftly: it was saddled with every problem which neither of the conventional forces wanted to handle, as well as any which both wanted, but neither would allow to the other.
Working, as it did from the start, in the darker corners of the Empire’s affairs, it soon gathered a great deal of information, which included the secrets of all kinds of citizens right up to the highest ranks. Predictably Colonel Theyn’s predecessor General Semikarek had used this information for blackmail and had quickly made himself a wealthy and feared figure. Until the mistake of trying to apply pressure to a senior member of one of the Six Families cost him his head a year ago. Colonel Theyn’s lowly rank was intended to remind him that he was a servant of the true powers of the Empire and to warn him not to presume on that status. It also placed him firmly outside the inner circle of power in Karkor, which suited Shkosta's purpose perfectly.
“Thank you, colonel, for your frankness. I understand now the council’s attitude towards you.” She paused. Most of what she had heard she already knew from the extensive briefings Hexper had given her before she left the Baron’s castle at Stormward, and it looked as though Theyn might indeed fulfil their hopes. But there was more: this smooth controlled man was concealing a great deal, some of it maybe of real importance. She would have it, but not now. “I would like to take you up on your offer of assistance and tap into the best source of information in the Empire. After all I am hardly a security risk. Now, I’ve already taken up too much of your time, but could you indulge me just a little longer and give me a quick outline of what you see as the threats facing us, apart from the war that is, I think I’ve heard enough of that for one day.”
“It’s a long list, your Highness.”
“Just the main ones then. And just the outline. We’ll talk about them another time.”
There was no expression in the mild brown eyes facing her. Information was power to this man, not something he would lightly give up. Then the colonel gave a slight nod and she knew a small victory had been won.
“Assessing the relative importance of each threat is not a precise affair, your Highness. But perhaps the most dangerous problem we face could be over the succession. The Six Families are all ambitious, your grandfather is old and you are newly returned to Karkor.”
He paused, received not a question, but a smile of complete understanding. He nodded again and continued.
“Other threats? The campaign against the Mederro rebels is not going well: the army have insisted on violent suppression rather than persuasion and have topped off a string of losing skirmishes with the loss of Pontos, their major base in the south. Dendria is becoming more unruly each year: not a concerted revolt, but there is considerable anger among the farming communities and law and order are starting to break down. I am also concerned,” Shkosta noted the change, the first personal opinion he had expressed, “ at the situation in Tarkus: it has always been firmly within our sphere of influence….”
“I remember you mentioned it in the meeting,” the princess interrupted, “and were slapped down.”
“Yes, but the Prelect has been holding secret meetings with Quezma delegations, there has been a steady inflow of foreigners from the east, and the Sarai are raiding more than ever. It is all feeding a feeling there of isolation from the Empire, and what a stepping-stone Tarkus would make for a Quezma assault. If it comes to war, we must deny it to them.”
He stopped and gave a faint smile. “I’m sorry, just an outline, you said. Well, there are many more threats to the Empire's security, your Highness. Shall I continue?”
“No, colonel. That will be quite sufficient for a start. Believe me I’m delighted to find someone with such a grasp of the kingdom’s affairs, someone I can trust. You will not find me ungrateful. This has been such an interesting beginning, but of course I need to learn much more from you. Shall we say tomorrow, around noon?”
That had been the start and now, a year later, she knew a great deal more of where she stood. Much of it was not good. She was still being allowed very little access to the complex and rigid structure which supported the Imperial throne. Her grandfather was uncomfortable with this fledgling who had suddenly returned to the roost, and she suspected that his long-term mistrust of Hexper and the other Barons now extended to her as well. Small wonder perhaps, but without his open support she was left with little more than an honorary position at court among the throng whose ambitions had been so suddenly undermined by her arrival. A newcomer in Karkor. Female. Worse, female and young. Worse still, female, young and beautiful. All that they could have forgiven. But an heir to the throne, who appeared just as that coveted position had been opportunely vacated by her father, the
Crown Prince, was the unwelcome spectre at the feast.
She was under no illusion. There would be many who would be glad to see her removed from the succession by any possible means. But they knew nothing of her resources, and their jealousy, even their hatred, concerned her not one whit. Friends were not what she needed at this moment: to achieve her purpose she wanted a lever and instinct said it was within her grasp. She was not quite sure yet what kind of lever, but it was time to find out and to start using it.
Chapter 5
The standard payment for wolfskins is suspended with immediate effect. Over the last ten years the reports of wolf attacks on livestock throughout the Easterleng have diminished to the point where the Council considers that they have now reached a level at which stock-owners can deal with the problem by themselves without the support of taxpayers’ money.
It has also been noted that some trappers have pushed a long way into the mountains to acquire more skins and maximise their payments. These forays have taken them far beyond the grazing range of any livestock and therefore beyond the area of the Council’s responsibility: this problem has now been resolved by the suspension of payments. It is also hoped that these trapping parties who have come close to penetrating Hamna territory will now confine themselves to less contentious areas.
Public Notice 234/E7. Easterleng Council
Esparan, The Rails
The muted thunder of the afternoon rainstorm on the roof became a splashing roar as the yard door banged open and a dripping figure scurried into the unlit room.
"Come on Ham. You said you were going to tell us about the Sarpil now." Berin's words reached Dexis clearly, where she stood inside the threshold shaking the rain from her mop of fair curls, and she smiled to herself as she caught Hamdrim's mumbled excuses.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" She levered off her muddy yard boots and crossed the gloomy dining room in confident strides to plump down on the bench beside Caldar. "Plotting something? Be nice, Ham, and get me some soup, will you, while the lads tell me all your murky secrets."
The Tears of Sisme Page 8
