The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  “The bad people are trying to play with our thoughts, Mister Khalor,” Gher told him. “The Ghend fellow sticks silly things that didn’t really happen into our dreams to make us believe that they really did happen. That dream we all had last night wasn’t way back then like the rest of them have been, though. I think this one’s supposed to happen a month or so from now.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion, Gher?” Bheid asked.

  “The leaves on the trees outside the room where Andine was sprawled out on the floor were all sort of red. Doesn’t that mean that it was in autumn?”

  Khalor’s eyes narrowed. “They were, weren’t they?” he said. “That means that this is all supposed to happen about six weeks from now.” He looked at Dweia. “Is that thing set in stone?” he asked her. “Or could this Ghend fellow sneak back, put snow on the ground, and then make us dream it all over again?”

  “I don’t think he’d dare, Sergeant,” she replied. “Part of the danger of jumping around in time in a dream vision is the possibility of paradox. If two entirely different things happen in the same place at the same time, reality starts to come apart, and we really don’t want that to happen. Changing the past is fairly safe—if you don’t go too far. Changing the future is an entirely different matter.”

  “The past has already happened, Dweia,” Bheid objected. “It can’t be changed.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, Brother Bheid,” she told him. “The dream vision changes our memory of the past. In the world of reality, Gelta never attained total domination of Ansu. She butchered her way to the thrones of about six clans in southern Ansu, and then the rest of the clans joined forces and overwhelmed her. She was on her way to the headsman’s block when Pekhal rescued her. That’s not the way she remembers it, though. She believes that she came to own all of Ansu, and Ghend can use dream visions to make everybody in Ansu believe the same thing. That’s why the Ansus attacked Wekti when she commanded them to.”

  “Did that make any sense to anybody else?” Eliar asked plaintively.

  “It’s not really all that complicated, Eliar,” Gher told him. “The dream things are flimflams, that’s all.”

  “That might actually be the best way to look at them,” Dweia conceded. “It’s a little more complex than that, but ‘flimflam’ isn’t too far off the mark when the dream visions are set in the past. This time, though, Ghend’s trying to sneak a future one by us.”

  “How can we prevent it?” Andine demanded.

  “I don’t think we’ll want to, dear,” Dweia replied fondly. “I think we might want to just play along with that dream.”

  “No!” Andine’s voice soared. “I will not bow down to that pock-marked cow!”

  “You’re missing the point, Andine,” Dweia told her. “I believe the Knife said ‘obey’ when you saw it, didn’t it?”

  “It surely didn’t mean that I’m supposed to obey Gelta!”

  “The meanings of the words on the Knife are a little obscure, dear. It told Eliar to ‘lead,’ but it didn’t mean that he’s supposed to command the army. What it really meant was that he’s the one who opens the doors. It told Leitha to ‘listen,’ but she doesn’t listen with her ears. When it told you to ‘obey,’ it was giving you the means to defeat Gelta.”

  “I won’t do it! I’d sooner die!”

  “That option’s not open to you, dear. You don’t have to like it, Andine, you just have to do it.”

  “I’m sure you folks can deal with these little matters without any help from me,” Sergeant Khalor suggested. “Right now I’d probably better go look at those three cities.”

  “Hold tight for a few minutes, Sergeant,” Althalus said. “I want to go talk with Smeugor and Tauri. I think it’s time to put some forces out there to slow the invasion.” He squinted at Leitha. “You’d better come along,” he told her. “I want to know exactly what those two are thinking before I turn them loose.”

  “It shall be as you command, O glorious leader,” Leitha replied with an exaggerated curtsy.

  “Would you talk to her about that, Bheid?” Althalus asked the black-robed priest. “I’ve got enough on my mind already without all these little tweaks and gouges to brighten up my day.”

  “Why, Althalus,” Leitha said in mock astonishment, “what a terrible thing to say.”

  Althalus and Leitha walked through the silent corridors of the House toward the southeast wing, and Althalus explained a few peculiarities as they went. “They don’t see the walls or the floor, Leitha. They think they’re in Kagwher—up in the mountains.”

  “How are you managing that, Althalus?” the blond girl asked.

  “I’m not the one who’s doing it, so don’t ask me about it. Emmy takes care of that.”

  “You love her very much, don’t you?”

  “It goes quite a ways past that. Anyway, the two clans are sort of lounging around in what they think is a mountain pass. I’ll station you in a doorway that won’t be very far from their encampment, and then I’ll go on in and give them their marching orders. I’ll need to know what their reactions are and just exactly how they’ll try to avoid doing what I tell them to do. We don’t want any surprises.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” she promised.

  They turned into an intersecting corridor, and Althalus saw an army of Arums just ahead. “This should be far enough, Leitha,” he told her. “Wait here.”

  There was, as always, a peculiar sense of dislocation when Althalus approached the camp. He could see the corridor clearly enough, but at the same time, he could see the mountains of Kagwher out of the corners of his eyes, and the corridor and the mountains seemed to blur together. Distances weren’t exactly the same, so the kilted sentries did a lot of walking in place as they escorted Althalus to the headquarters pavilion.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Althalus greeted the pair as he entered the pavilion. “What cheer?”

  “Not much cheer,” the pimple-faced Smeugor replied sourly. “This is intolerable, Althalus. We’re Clan Chiefs, and you’ve got us roughing things with the common soldiers. It’s insulting.”

  “You took the money, Chief Smeugor,” Althalus told him. “Now you get to earn it.”

  “What’s afoot?” the yellow-haired Tauri asked.

  “The Kanthons have invaded Osthos territory,” Althalus replied, “so it looks like we’re off to the races. You’d better summon your army commanders. I’ll need to discuss the details with them.”

  “We’re the Clan Chiefs, Althalus,” Smeugor declared with a haughty expression. “We’ll pass the orders on to our troop commanders.”

  “Forgive me if I speak bluntly, Chief Smeugor,” Althalus said, “but you two don’t know beans about military operations. I want to be positive that your commanders know exactly what’s going on and what I need them to do. We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

  “You go too far, Althalus,” Tauri declared. “We’ll decide what orders to give our men.”

  “The pay stops right now, then. Turn around and go back to Arum.”

  “We have an agreement!” Smeugor exclaimed. “You can’t just back out of it like this!”

  “I just did. Either send for those commanders or start packing for the trip home. I speak for Arya Andine. You will do as I tell you to do, or I’ll dismiss you right here and now.”

  Tauri turned to the sentry posted at the front of the pavilion. “You—what’s your name?—go fetch Wendan and Gelun, and be quick about it.”

  “Yes, my Chief,” the sentry replied. Althalus noticed a slight sneer cross the sentry’s face as Tauri turned away. The two renegade Chiefs were obviously not highly regarded by their clansmen.

  “Exactly what have you got in mind for us, Althalus?” Smeugor asked, his hard eyes narrowing.

  “The invaders are moving faster than we want them to move. We’re preparing a welcome for them, and we don’t want them to arrive early. I want you two to slow them down.”

  “It
’s a long way off, Althalus,” Tauri protested. “How are we supposed to get there in time to make any difference?”

  “The procedure’s known as ‘running,’ Chief Tauri. It’s a bit like walking, but you do it faster.”

  “I don’t care for your tone, Althalus.”

  “That’s too bad, isn’t it? You’ve been on the march for almost a month now, and you haven’t really covered very much ground. Now you’re going to make up for that. This is a war, gentlemen, not an afternoon stroll. You’d better pass the word to your men to start breaking camp. You’ll be leaving here within the hour.”

  “You sent for us, my Chief?” a lean, professional-looking soldier inquired as he and a very tall man entered.

  “Yes, Gelun,” Tauri replied. “This is Althalus, one of our employer’s underlings. He has some instructions for you—outside, if you don’t mind. Chief Smeugor and I are about to have breakfast, and we’d rather not be disturbed.”

  “As you command, my Chief,” Captain Gelun replied, saluting. “If you’ll come with us, Althalus, we can discuss this in greater detail.”

  “Of course,” Althalus replied. Then he bowed curtly to Smeugor and Tauri. “Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen, but don’t be at it too long.” Then he followed the two soldiers out of the pavilion.

  “Is it just my imagination, or did I catch a faint smell of hostility in the air just now?” the tall soldier with Captain Gelun asked mildly.

  “You’re Captain Wendan, aren’t you?” Althalus asked.

  “At your service, Althalus,” the tall man replied extravagantly.

  “I certainly hope so. I wasn’t having much luck getting through to that pair.”

  “What an amazing thing,” Gelun said sardonically. “Wendan and I don’t have any trouble at all persuading them that we should move along—unless we get careless and suggest that we should cover more than a mile a day.”

  “What possessed your Arya to saddle us with that worthless pair, Althalus?” Wendan demanded.

  “Careful, Wendan,” Gelun warned. “You shouldn’t let the men hear you talking that way about our revered Chieftains. It’s bad for their morale.”

  “Arya Andine doesn’t entirely understand Arum social structure, gentlemen,” Althalus said glibly. “She thought that all the clans functioned the way Twengor’s clan does. Twengor leads his men personally. I tried to explain to her that Smeugor and Tauri don’t do that, but I couldn’t get through to her. She still seems to think that they’re the Generals. She’s very young.”

  “Everybody gets over that eventually,” Gelun said. “Here’s our tent, Althalus. Come on inside, and we’ll get down to business.”

  “I brought a map,” Althalus said as they entered a tent that stood no more than ten feet from the pavilion. He reached inside his tunic and drew out one of Khalor’s carefully drawn maps. Then he unrolled it and spread it out on the rough table in the tent. “The army of the Kanthons invaded last week, and they’re advancing on these three cities. We need to have you slow them down.”

  “Who’s the Overgeneral of our forces?” Wendan asked.

  “You know Sergeant Khalor?”

  “Oh, yes,” Wendan replied. “He and I’ve been on opposite sides in a couple of wars. When you get right down to it, if you’ve got Khalor, you don’t need any of the rest of us.”

  “Is he that good?” Gelun asked.

  “You don’t want to go up against him if you can possibly avoid it.”

  Gelun grunted. “You do know what’s involved in a delaying action, don’t you, Althalus?” he asked.

  “Mostly ambushes and knocking down bridges, isn’t it?”

  “Stick to politics and diplomacy, Althalus,” Wendan said. “Wars are just a little different. Soldiers get hungry several times a day, so they have to be fed. The best way to slow them down is to make sure that you don’t leave any food lying around for them. It’s almost harvest time now—which is probably why the Kanthons waited to start their invasion. I hope your Arya isn’t too attached to this year’s wheat crop, because it won’t be there anymore after Gelun and I reach that border country. We’ll burn everything in sight for fifty miles on either side of the line.”

  “And poison every well we come across,” Gelun added.

  “Poison?” That startled Althalus.

  “It amounts to that,” Gelun explained. “If you take a horse or a cow that’s been dead for a week and drop it down a well, the water won’t be fit to drink.”

  “And if you can’t find suitable cattle, there are always dead people lying around during a war. Dead people stink even worse than dead cows do,” Wendan added.

  Althalus shuddered. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep Chief Smeugor and Chief Tauri from interfering?”

  “Anything more than a mile from where their pavilion’s set up might as well be on the other side of the world,” Gelun sneered. “Our glorious leaders aren’t very fond of exercise. Wendan and I just salute smartly when they tell us to do something, but as soon as we get out of sight—and earshot—we do what really needs to be done instead. Tell Sergeant Khalor that we’re going to send him invaders who’ll be terribly hungry and thirsty. He’ll know what to do with them.”

  “Leave the map, though,” the lanky Wendan added. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d better go give the men their marching orders.”

  “Have a nice trip,” Althalus said. And then he left the tent.

  “You still have a lot of rough bark left on you, Althalus,” Leitha observed when he rejoined her. “Weren’t you just a bit abrupt with Smeugor and Tauri?”

  “It could have been worse. What did they say after I left?”

  “They’re terribly upset and extremely worried. They haven’t been able to get in touch with Ghend since the conclave, so they don’t really know what they’re supposed to do. Normally, Argan carries messages back and forth, but they haven’t seen him for weeks. They’re totally baffled and very much afraid. If they do something wrong, they know that Ghend’s very likely to punish them—fatally.”

  “What a shame,” Althalus replied, smirking. “We’d better get back to the tower before Khalor starts climbing the walls.”

  “There’s something else going on, Althalus,” Leitha said with a slightly worried frown, “and I can’t quite get hold of it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Argan’s the one who recruits Ghend’s spies—usually by offering them bribes. At least that’s what he did in Wekti. He’s doing something different in Treborea. He’s still bribing various officials, but I kept catching the word ‘conversion’ from Smeugor and Tauri, and it terrifies them. They’re happy to take money from Argan, but he seems to be attaching a few strings to his bribes.”

  “That’s all we need,” Althalus replied. “I hate it when religion gets involved in politics.”

  “I just thought you should know, Althalus.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Then he stopped. “How’s Bheid coming along? Gher said he looked a bit upset when you opened certain doors for him—you know what I mean.”

  She giggled. “He wasn’t quite ready for some of the things that were involved. He didn’t mind passing ideas back and forth, but feelings bothered him quite a bit.”

  “Would you mind a suggestion, Leitha?” Althalus said carefully as they approached the tower stairs.

  “That depends on the suggestion.”

  “Would you go a little easier on Bheid for a while?”

  “How do you mean ‘easier’?”

  “Quit trying to make him blush every time he turns around. Back away from the ‘vile thoughts’ business—at least until he gets more accustomed to having strangers inside his head.”

  “But he’s so adorable when he blushes,” she protested.

  “Find some other entertainment for the time being. I’ve got a strong suspicion that we’ll need him to have his wits about him before long, so give the swishing and innuendos a rest. He isn’t going to get away from you, Leitha, so behave yourse
lf.”

  “Yes, Papa,” she replied obediently.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You were being paternal, Althalus. You do that all the time, you know—probably because you think of the rest of us as children. You aren’t really much of a father, but you’re the only one we’ve got—Daddy dear.”

  “That will do, Leitha!”

  “Are you going to spank me—with your own personal bare hand?” she asked enthusiastically, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

  “Quit that!”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she replied obediently.

  The guards at the gates of Kadon questioned Althalus, Eliar, and Sergeant Khalor at some length before allowing them to enter the city, and Althalus was fuming as the three of them walked through the narrow streets toward the palace of Duke Olkar.

  “It is wartime, Althalus,” Sergeant Khalor explained. “Those men wouldn’t have been attending to business if they’d just waved us through.”

  “I had this pass with Andine’s signature on it,” Althalus objected, waving the sheet of paper.

  “That’s very impressive, I’m sure, but you won’t find too many common soldiers who know how to read. The guards were doing what they’re supposed to do. Quit worrying about it.”

  “The walls looked fairly good to me,” Eliar observed.

  “Solid enough,” Khalor agreed. “A little pedestrian, maybe, but a few innovations should take care of that.”

  “What kind of innovations?”

  “Think, Eliar. What do you add to a wall to make life difficult for somebody who wants to get into your city?”

  “An overhang, maybe?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt. Flat walls make for easy climbing. Anything else?”

  “Redoubts, maybe? Those turret things that stick out from the corners so that archers can shoot arrows at anybody climbing a scaling ladder?”

  “Those might be useful, too.”

  “Why do you do that, Khalor?” Althalus asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Give tests all the time.”

  Khalor shrugged. “I’m supposed to be a teacher, Althalus. Teachers give tests. The enemy gives the final examination, though. If my pupil’s still alive when the battle’s over, he’s passed the test. You’d better keep that pass Andine gave you handy. There’s the palace of the Duke right over there, and we’re a little too busy to spend much time cooling our heels in some waiting room.”