The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  “I guess you could say that we won,” Eliar told him.

  “Praise Deiwos!” the white-robed priest exclaimed.

  “I don’t think Deiwos had very much to do with it,” Eliar said. “We had a better army, that’s all.”

  “Is Exarch Yeudon busy?” Bheid asked politely.

  “Not when you come to call, Scopas Bheid,” the white-robed priest replied. “He’s left instructions that you’re to be admitted immediately. He’s been very concerned about the invasion.”

  “I think he can stop worrying now,” Althalus murmured. “Would you mind letting him know that we’re here?”

  “I’Il announce you at once.” The priest went to the door behind his table, opened it, and leaned into the Exarch’s study. “Scopas Bheid is here, your Eminence.”

  “Show him in at once, Brother Akhas.” Yeudon’s voice cracked.

  “Yes, your Eminence.” The priest opened the door wider and bowed to Bheid. “This way, Scopas Bheid.” His tone was respectful, almost fawning, and he no longer looked down his nose.

  Bheid led his friends into Yeudon’s ornate study and bowed rather perfunctorily. “Good news, your Eminence,” he announced. “The invaders have been beaten back. The danger is past.”

  “We are saved!” Yeudon exclaimed, his lined face breaking into a smile of gratitude.

  “For the moment, anyway,” Althalus amended.

  “You believe that the invaders may return?”

  “With what? There aren’t that many of them left. Sergeant Khalor’s a very thorough sort of man. He didn’t just beat the Ansus. He ground them into dog meat. Still, it might not hurt to put some men along that frontier to keep an eye on things—just to be on the safe side.”

  “Do you think Salkan and the other shepherds might be able to hold that frontier?” Yeudon asked.

  “There’s a little problem with that, your Eminence,” Althalus said. “Our Generals were very impressed with your shepherds, so they’ve sort of appropriated them for a war that’s breaking out over in Treborea.”

  “I forbid it!” Yeudon exclaimed, coming to his feet. “I will not have my children exposed to the heresies of the west. No Wekti can leave our motherland without my express permission.”

  “Is your faith that insecure, your Eminence?” Bheid asked. “Are you so afraid of different ideas and beliefs that you feel you must chain your people to the walls?”

  “Gentlemen,” Althalus stepped in, “let’s not get bogged down in theological debate here. We’re talking about business, pure and simple. We came here and saved your bacon, Exarch, and we’re taking Salkan and the shepherds as payment. Nothing’s free, Yeudon. When you get something, you have to pay for it. What’s happening in Treborea’s part of the same war we fought here, if that’s any comfort to you. Our ultimate enemy’s still Daeva, so Salkan’s shepherds are your contribution to the struggle between good and evil. Doesn’t that make you proud?”

  Yeudon glowered at him. Then his eyes narrowed, and he looked at Bheid. “There’s something I don’t quite understand, Scopas Bheid,” he said. “Perhaps you could explain it to me.”

  “I’ll certainly try, your Eminence.”

  “I sent a message expressing my gratitude to Exarch Emdahl, and he didn’t seem to have the faintest idea of what I was talking about. In fact, it seems that he’s never heard of you. Isn’t that peculiar?”

  “I wouldn’t blame Bheid for that, Yeudon,” Althalus said blandly. “He didn’t really want to deceive you, but I compelled him to do it that way—largely because it was simpler and quicker. We could have told you what’s really going on, but that might have shaken your foundations just a bit.”

  “Then this has all been a deception,” Yeudon accused.

  “Not entirely, no. Bheid told you that we were following the orders of a higher authority, and that part was the truth. He fibbed just a little when he told you that Exarch Emdahl was the authority we were talking about. When you get right down to it, our orders come from an authority that’s several cuts above Emdahl—or you, for that matter.”

  “Deiwos, I suppose?” Yeudon said sardonically.

  “No, actually it’s his sister. This war that’s tearing the world apart is an extension of a family squabble. Deiwos has a brother and a sister who don’t really get along. The Book explains it all in great detail.”

  “Book?”

  “The white Book. I wouldn’t put too much faith in what the black Book says, if I were you. Of course, I couldn’t read when Ghend showed me the black Book, so I’m not familiar with what it says. Dweia tells me that it’s a distortion, though. I guess Daeva wrote it to try to take credit for creating the universe.”

  “You’ve actually seen the Books?” Yeudon’s face had gone pasty white, and his hands were shaking.

  “None of this would make much sense if I hadn’t.”

  “I thought the Books were just an old myth.”

  “No, they’re very real, Yeudon. I’ve read the white one from cover to cover—because I had the Goddess Dweia standing over me with a club to make sure that I didn’t miss a single line.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Good—Dweia tells me that’s the first step toward wisdom. The Gods don’t see the world as we do, Yeudon, and no matter how much we try to twist them around to make them arrange things for our own personal benefit, they get their own way, and we’re the ones who get twisted around. Like it or not, we’re going to do things their way.”

  “I take it that you’re the high priest of the Goddess Dweia?” Yeudon suggested.

  Bheid suddenly burst out laughing.

  “Did I say something funny?” Yeudon asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “Althalus here’s the least priestly man in the whole world, your Eminence,” Bheid told him, still laughing. “He’s a liar, a thief, and a murderer, and every time Dweia tells him to do something, he argues with her about it.”

  Althalus shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect,” he said. “I wouldn’t go quite so far as to call myself a priest, though. I’m Dweia’s agent—in the same way that Ghend’s Daeva’s agent. When this all started, I was working for Ghend, but that changed when I met Dweia. I work for her now, though she doesn’t always approve of my methods. I’m a plain, simple man, and I still think that my answer to this whole business is better than hers.”

  “That’s blasphemy!” Yeudon exclaimed.

  “So what? I think she’ll forgive me when it’s all over. All I really have to do to put an end to all this nonsense is to chase Ghend down and kill him. Dweia’s probably going to scold me about that for a few hundred years, but she’s done that before, and she always settles down—eventually.”

  “You would dare to disobey your God?”

  “It isn’t really disobedience, Yeudon. She wants something done, and I’m going to do it. How I go about getting it done is my business, not hers. When you get right down to it, the Gods are really very simple. Divinity seems to make them a bit childish. Maybe that’s because they always get what they want—and maybe that’s why I’m around. If I disappoint Dweia every now and then, it might help her grow up.”

  Yeudon stared at him in horror.

  “He’ll probably lie to her,” Bheid added. “She might not believe him right at first, but Althalus can talk very fast when he needs to, so she’ll probably end up believing him.”

  “I’d love to stay and discuss this further, Exarch Yeudon,” Althalus said, “but Dweia’s waiting for us back home, and she absolutely hates to be kept waiting.”

  “That was quick,” Dweia said when the three of them returned to the tower through Eliar’s special door.

  Bheid glanced quickly around the tower room. “Where are Chief Albron and Lady Astarell?” he asked cautiously.

  “They’re down in the dining room with Leitha, Andine, and Gher,” Dweia replied. “I don’t think it serves any purpose for them to spend too much time here in the tower. How did things go in Keiwon?”<
br />
  “I was trying to be diplomatic,” Bheid reported, “but Althalus pushed me off to one side and exposed poor Yeudon to a little bit more truth than he was ready for. Althalus can be very blunt when he’s in a hurry.”

  “Yeudon makes me tired,” Althalus said. “He’s just a little too impressed with his own holiness. Have we more or less decided to bring Salkan here to our private part of the House?”

  “Brother Bheid thinks it might be a good idea,” Dweia said, “and it shouldn’t be too much trouble—as long as we keep him out of the tower, along with Astarell and Albron.”

  “Let’s hold off until he’s in one of the corridors here in the House with Gebhel and Dreigon, Em,” Althalus suggested. “Then Eliar and I can snatch him and bring him here with no one the wiser. We could probably grab him right now, but I’d have to spread assorted lies around to keep everybody happy, and that gets a bit tedious after a while.”

  “Whatever works best for you, pet,” she agreed. “Oh, by the way, Andine wants to pay a call on Lord Dhakan in Osthos. She’s positive that the Kanthons will invade soon. Take Sergeant Khalor along to explain our present strategy.”

  “Anything you say, Em,” he agreed.

  It was early evening when Eliar led Althalus, Andine, and Khalor into the corridor outside Lord Dhakan’s study in the palace at Osthos. Then he rapped on the Chamberlain’s door.

  “I’m busy,” Dhakan’s voice responded. “Go away.”

  “It’s me, Dhakan,” Andine called to him. “I have some good news for you.”

  Dhakan opened the door. “Sorry, my Arya,” he apologized with a deep bow. “I’ve had people hammering on my door with bad news all day. Come in. Come in.”

  “Isn’t he a dear?” Andine said fondly.

  “This is Sergeant Khalor, Dhakan,” Althalus said. “We were on our way back to that other war we mentioned during our last visit, and we met him near the Equero border. He’d polished off that other war, and his forces are on the march right now. He wants to know how things stand here currently.”

  “Sergeant.” Dhakan greeted the stern-faced Khalor with a slight nod. “Things here haven’t been going very well, I’m afraid.”

  “The Kanthons have invaded?”

  Dhakan nodded. “Several days ago. They have a huge army, and our forces haven’t been able to delay them very much.”

  Khalor gestured toward the large map on the wall behind Dhakan’s desk. “Show me,” he suggested.

  Dhakan nodded. “The border country’s not the richest land in the whole of Treborea, so we’ve never made an issue of who really owns it. The Kanthons invaded our lands here to the north of that lake, and they had a sizable army of mercenary soldiers.”

  “Horsemen or foot soldiers?”

  “Both, Sergeant.”

  “Have you got any ideas about where those mercenaries came from?”

  “It’s a little hard to say, Sergeant. Most Treboreans can’t tell the difference between Arums and Kagwhers.”

  “I might recognize them when I see them.” Then Khalor pointed at three names written on the map. “Are these places towns? Or are they just farming villages?”

  “They’re cities, actually.”

  “Are they walled?”

  Dhakan nodded. “The walls of Kadon and Mawor are quite substantial, but those around Poma have sort of fallen into disrepair. Technically, those three cities are a part of the Osthos Alliance. They were independent city-states some centuries back, and when the Kanthons began having imperial urges for the first time, we all joined together to repel them. The Dukes of those three cities still maintain the fiction of independence, but when you get right down to the bottom of things, they take orders from Osthos.”

  Khalor shook his head. “The politics of the low countries are even more complicated than their religions.”

  “Complication is part of the joy of being civilized, Sergeant Khalor,” Dhakan said drily. Then his face grew somber. “We’ve fought wars with the Kanthons quite a few times during the past several centuries, and those wars have always concentrated on the cities, because that’s where all the wealth is. This time’s quite a bit different. The invaders are killing everybody they encounter.”

  “Not the peasants, certainly?” Andine exclaimed.

  “I’m afraid so, my Arya,” Dhakan told her.

  “That’s idiocy! The peasants don’t have anything to do with the wars between the cities! Nobody’s ever killed the peasants before. They’re an asset. If you don’t have peasants, who’s going to grow your food?”

  “That doesn’t seem to concern the invaders, my Arya,” Dhakan told her. “The peasants are fleeing in panic, of course, and they’re clogging every road that leads south.”

  “Maybe that’s what the invaders want,” Khalor mused. “If those three cities are jammed full of refugees when the sieges begin, the food won’t last very long, and the cities won’t either.”

  “That’s a brutal way to make war, Sergeant,” Dhakan protested.

  “We’re dealing with a brutal enemy, Lord Dhakan.” Khalor squinted at the map. “Let me guess, my Lord. Could it possibly be that one of the generals of the invading army just happens to be a woman?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “We’ve met her before. Her name’s Gelta, and she calls herself ‘the Queen of Night.’ She’s a raving maniac with shoulders like a bull, and she loves the taste of blood.”

  “A woman?” Dhakan exclaimed.

  “She’s no ordinary woman, my Lord,” Althalus said, “and this isn’t any ordinary war. The Aryo of Kanthon’s hardly more than a puppet, and somebody else is pulling his strings.”

  “My armies are on the way, Lord Dhakan,” Khalor said. “I’ll want to go have a look at those cities, but the most important thing at the moment is to get forces up there to delay the invaders and give me time to see to the defenses. Let’s get somebody between Gelta and those cities. I don’t want to sit down to dinner with her.”

  “Smeugor and Tauri, I think,” Althalus suggested.

  “Not those two, certainly!” Andine exclaimed. “They’re turncoats, Althalus! They’ll betray us every chance they get!”

  “They’ll try to betray us, little girl,” Althalus replied, “but I’ll be several steps ahead of them all along the way. Whether they like it or not, Smeugor and Tauri are going to make a major contribution to our victory.”

  The leaves were red—red as blood—when the Queen of Night ascended to the throne of mighty Osthos. And, behold, the captive Arya of Osthos was brought in chains to kneel before the dreaded Queen who had o’erthrown all who stood in her path.

  “Submit unto me, frail child,” the dark Queen commanded, “and should thy submission please me, mayhap I shall spare thy life.” And the haunted wail filled the room.

  And Arya Andine knelt to signify her submission.

  “On thy face!” stern Gelta commanded. “Grovel before me that I may know that thy submission is absolute!”

  And, weeping, did Arya Andine lower her face to the very stones of the floor.

  And the heart of Gelta was full, and the taste of victory on her tongue was sweet, sweet.

  And placed she then her rough-booted foot upon the soft neck of groveling Andine in exultant triumph, declaring, “All that was yours is now mine, Andine, yea, verily, even thy life and all thy blood.”

  And the triumphant cry of the Queen of the Night echoed down the marble-clad palace of the fallen Arya of Osthos, and the despairing wail echoed also.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y

  What a terrible nightmare I had!” Astarell exclaimed the next morning at breakfast.

  “I didn’t sleep very well myself,” Chief Albron admitted. Dweia looked at the two of them, and then she made a slight gesture with one hand. “Drem,” she said softly.

  Albron and Astarell immediately froze in position, their eyes open and vacant.

  Sergeant Khalor looked slightly puzzled, and he waved one hand in fr
ont of his Chief’s face. Albron’s face remained frozen and his eyes blank. “What’s going on here?” Khalor demanded.

  “We need to talk, Sergeant,” Althalus told him, “and Albron and Astarell don’t really need to listen in.”

  “Witchcraft?” Khalor asked in a startled tone.

  “That’s hardly the term I’d use, but it’s something along those lines. You should have guessed by now that many of the things that happen here in the House are a little out of the ordinary. Astarell and your Chief can take a little nap while we’re busy. We might use that now and then to keep certain other things from going too far.”

  “Kreuter probably would be unhappy if things went too far between Chief Albron and his niece,” Khalor conceded.

  “Exactly. And after certain formalities, they’ll both be well rested. You might want to raise that issue the next time you talk with Kreuter.” “

  It would solve quite a few problems, wouldn’t it?” Khalor agreed. “What was all that talk about nightmares?”

  “Did you dream last night, Sergeant?” Dweia asked him.

  “A little,” Khalor admitted. “It didn’t make any sense, but dreams never do.”

  “Oh, it made sense, Sergeant,” Dweia disagreed. “It made a lot of sense.”

  “What’s Ghend up to?” Bheid asked in some perplexity. “I thought he was trying to change the past, but that dream last night was in the future, wasn’t it?”

  “He might be getting a little desperate,” Dweia mused. “He hasn’t had much luck with his visions of the past, and I’m catching a strong odor of dissatisfaction from my brother. I think Ghend might be staring down the throat of an ultimatum of some sort. Tampering with the future’s a very risky sort of business.” She turned slightly. “Could you touch Gelta’s mind during that dream, Leitha?” she asked.

  Leitha nodded. “A lot of it was playacting,” she replied. “Gelta was adding things that weren’t entirely true. The war wasn’t going nearly as well for her as that dream vision suggested.”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve all had the same dream, I gather,” Khalor said.