Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  There was light at the far end of the chamber where shadowy figures moved about. As we neared it a dozen young lords stepped from a recess to join the Prince. Solaros introduced us in whispers, saying this fellow was Lord Emerle and that one was Lord Thrade and so on. I had to struggle hard to glue each name to a face for deposit in my memory.

  Janela plucked my sleeve when we were introduced to one young man — who was tall, exceedingly slender and uncommonly pale. He face was long and horse-like, with wide-set eyes and overly large teeth that stretched his mouth. His name was Lord Vakram. As we touched palms in the Tyrenian manner of greeting my skin tingled with magical energy. I wasn’t surprised when I later learned he was the Prince’s wizard.

  The King’s throne area was a wide curved vault that was softly lit by some magical source. The walls were draped by earth-colored tapestries and the floor was thickly carpeted with material of a similar color. Scattered about were scores of low tables and seats padded with dark, heavy cushions. Most were empty, their potential occupants knotting about the throne.

  King Ignati raised his head as we approached, barely acknowledging our bows.

  “Your Majesty,” his son said, “I have the honor of presenting to you Lord Amalric Antero and Lady Janela Greycloak.”

  The King said nothing but leaned forward to peer at us through cold, narrow eyes.

  He seemed to be middle-aged with still blond hair under his wide crown and a thick blond beard that fell nearly to his chest, then curled up to a point. His skin was fair but mottled with dark spots and his fingers were thin and long with sharp, polished nails. I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes but they seemed rheumy and old. The closer I looked the more I thought his age had been magically arrested. A fine network of lines etched his face — and his cheeks, which I had first thought flushed with health, had the faint purplish tinge of someone whose heart is greatly stressed.

  He gave me but a cursory glance, spending most of his time on Janela — although I didn’t sense lust in that look.

  “You’re prettier than I was told,” he finally said to her. His voice was high and full of irritability.

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” Janela said.

  The King shook his head. “Didn’t mean it as a compliment.” He turned to a dark man in wizard’s robes. “I don’t trust pretty people, Tobray.”

  The wizard smiled, bowing once to the King and then to Janela. “King Ignati meant no offense, my Lady,” he said.

  “Don’t tell people what I mean and what I don’t, Tobray,” the King said to the wizard. Then, to Janela: “But it’s true, I meant no offense. Only speaking my mind.”

  “None taken, your Highness,” Janela said.

  The King waved, uncaring, then turned to me. “So you’re the great Amalric Antero?” he said. His tone was thick with sarcasm.

  “I plead guilty to the name, Majesty,” I said, “but not to any greatness.”

  Ignati chortled. For a sign of humor it made an unpleasant sound. “Clever. Very clever.” His head swiveled to Lord Tobray. “Always said he was a clever fellow, didn’t I, Tobray.”

  “Indeed you have, your Majesty,” Tobray said. Then to me: “The King has often expressed his admiration of your intellect, sir.”

  Ignati’s fingernails tapped impatiently on the arm of his throne. “Not that often, Tobray,” he said. “Only from time to time.”

  “As you say, your Majesty,” Tobray soothed. “Only from time to time.”

  “Don’t want these two getting the idea I’m so admiring,” the King said. “I’m not like that rabble in the streets that the gods have cursed me to govern. Mob fever, I call it. They think times are bleak when the fact is they’ve never been better. I give them peace, they think it’s surrender.” He glared at Tobray. “Don’t argue with me. I know what they think.”

  Tobray, who’d given no sign of disputing his sovereign, kept that maddening smile on his face and shook his head. “Of course you do, your Majesty,” he said.

  The King’s eyes swept back to us. “Mob fever,” he said again. “They see an ordinary mortal like themselves accomplish a wondrous feat... and I admit your expeditions match that definition... and they blow it all out of proportion. Start believing you might save them from the demons when the gods know very well I have that matter well in hand. Very well in hand.”

  “I was as surprised as you, Majesty,” I said. “I know nothing of your situation here but it was apparent the moment Prince Solaros escorted us into your city your subjects are blessed with the wisest of rulers.”

  Another chortle from the King. “Clever, clever fellow! No wonder you’re such a success.”

  “We are fortune’s fools, your Highness,” Janela broke in. “The gods have smiled more often on us than on our enemies.”

  Ignati hawked laughter, pausing to spit into a handkerchief before he spoke. “You’re clever too,” he said. “Just like your great grandfather Janos Greycloak.” His features darkened. He wagged a bony finger at Janela. “But you’re just as dangerous as he was, although now that I’ve met you I’m sure you don’t mean it.”

  Janela looked concerned. “What have I done that is so dangerous, your Highness?” she asked.

  “Oh, all that sorcerous meddling,” Ignati said. “Why couldn’t you be satisfied with curing boils, or making it rain when it ought and making it stop when it oughtn’t?”

  “Simple curiosity, your Highness,” Janela said.

  The King dismissed this with an impatient wave. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard that before. Well, I suppose you can’t be blamed, considering your dubious heritage.”

  Janela only bowed, wisely saying nothing.

  Now it was my turn to again enjoy the King’s scrutiny. “I suppose you know that your family has given us nothing but trouble.”

  I spread my hands. “In what way, Majesty?” I said.

  “All that adventuring and demon bashing, is what I mean,” he said. “Expeditions here and there. Supporting these Greycloaks in their silliness. I don’t blame your sister, so much. She was fighting a war. But I must say if you hadn’t gone riding wildly off to Vacaan the war never would have started. And yes, I know you had trouble with Raveline, who made his own bargain with the demons. But what of it? I was willing to concede a little more in the west. Nothing but barbarians there, anyway. Why couldn’t you do the same?”

  The Prince cleared his throat to catch his father’s attention. “You’ll forgive me, father,” he said. “But his people are among those barbarians you seem so willing to give up.”

  “Yes, yes... of course they are,” the King admitted. “I suppose their actions were to be expected — considering the circumstances. I’m only trying to explain to them what an awful lot of trouble they’ve caused us.”

  “In the view of many, father,” the Prince said, “the only trouble they’ve caused is to the demons.”

  “Same thing,” Ignati said. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. My duty is to be as much a juggler as a king. We’ve made war too long, and the only way to stop it is to try to see the other fellow’s view. Which in this case happen to be the demons’. What do they want? What do I want? Somewhere in the middle we find common ground. Without a damned war, mind you!”

  I could see the young Prince — our benefactor — was becoming angry as he and father picked over an old, painful argument. I tried to intervene.

  “Might I ask what you intend for us, Majesty?” I said. “We came seeking knowledge. And more than that, to beg your assistance. Our homeland is threatened. We witnessed the collapse of Vacaan and I fear the same will happen to Orissa if we do not find a solution.”

  “If you want wisdom, hear it from these lips,” the King said. “Make your peace with the demons. You’re a merchant. You can bargain. Give a little of this for a little of that. Then trust in the gods that all will end well if your intentions are pure.”

  It was all I could do not to first gape at his insanity, then condemn him
as a fool and a coward. To hear such mewling cant from the king of the Old Ones rocked me to the core.

  “As for the rest,” Ignati continued, ”I suppose I have no objection to Lady Greycloak dipping into our books of sorcery. For purely scholarly purposes, mind you. It will pass the time while I consider the consequences of your arrival. To be quite frank, if it weren’t for the acclaim you received from my subjects, I’d feed you dinner, call you brave to your faces and fools behind your backs and then send you on your way. But I find it wiser to keep the rabble happy when I can. At the moment they are so elated by your presence I’d prefer for you to remain my guests until they’ve settled down. It shouldn’t be too great an inconvenience for you. Like children, they forget quickly.”

  The Prince hid a smile and said, “May I oversee their stay with us, father?”

  Ignati snorted. “I knew he’d ask that, Tobray,” he said to his wizard. “If he were a normal lad he’d be putting mothers in fear for their daughters and making tavern keepers happy with their profits. But he’s a serious sort, like his mother... may she be resting peacefully with the gods. He’s got a band of similar-thinking young bravos to praise his right-thinking and on bad days I think I ought to let them have their war. Let a few demons have at ’em to show them the way of the world.”

  “Gladly, father,” Solaros said, hot.

  Ignati made that disgusting sound he meant as laughter. “Don’t tempt me, my son,” he said. “I’d rather keep things as they are. You’re only young. You’ll see the right of it soon enough. Meanwhile, have your fun. Play with your new toys. And when someday you are king you’ll know your father was not such a fool after all.”

  The Prince may have been young but he was wise enough to allow his father and monarch have the final word. He assumed dismissal, bowed low and led us out of the court room.

  “You see how it is?” Solaros said when we’d reached the hallway.

  “I think we do,” Janela said, dryly.

  I was glad she’d answered for both of us. My diplomatic skills felt blunted at the moment.

  “Don’t think it’s hopeless,” he said. “My father’s mind can be changed.”

  “And you’re just the one to do it, your Highness,” one of his bravos said. It was the horse-faced wizard — Lord Vakram. Then to the others: “Isn’t that right, my friends?”

  The Prince’s bravos rumbled agreement and told Solaros what a mighty influence he had on the King.

  “Now we’ve got Lord Antero and Lady Greycloak with us,” Vakram continued, “the convincing will come easier still. I say push on, my Prince! And before you know it we’ll be telling those demons where they can put those demands. Then we’ll see how much of a stomach they have for a fight!”

  The Prince flushed with pleasure. Then he said to us: “If I can beg your time just a little longer. I know how weary you must be. And hungry as well, although I can fix that as soon as we reach my chambers.”

  “We are yours to command, Highness,” I said.

  “Actually, I was thinking more of a partnership,” the Prince said. “Now if you’ll come with me I’ll give you the explanations I promised.”

  He dismissed his friends and we followed him through a maze of corridors that seemed to grow more ancient with each bend.

  Sounds of workmen greeted us as we came to what I took to be the rear end of the fortress. The Prince pulled aside a large tarp and we saw laborers chiseling out squares of crumbling stone while others mortared new ones into place. The air was thick with dust and the Prince shrugged apology, opened a heavy door and beckoned us to follow.

  “These are my chambers,” he said with a touch of pride. He shut the door and the sounds of labor vanished. “This whole wing is part of the original palace. It’s fallen into disuse over time, with rooms being boarded up as new ones were added. I’ve become quite interested in my ancestors so I’ve won permission and funds from my father to restore this area as it was — and turn the rooms into my quarters.”

  We were in what appeared to be the large receiving room of the wing. It was pleasantly lit and artfully decorated with bright colors and comfortable furniture. In the center of the room was a table with chairs drawn around it and in the middle was a small, swirling globe.

  Solaros bade us sit and whispered instructions to a servant to bring us food and drink. Janela and I studied the globe while he did so, seeing quickly it was a miniature of our world. Although the scale was small we could make out the distant islands of the West that Rali explored and closer in the familiar coastlines and sea surrounding Orissa. From there it was easy to trace the route we took to Irayas, the perilous Eastern Sea we’d crossed to this land and the river and ruined roads we’d traveled to reach Tyrenia.

  “Our journey doesn’t seem so difficult when you look at something like this,” Janela said with a wry smile. “And think how much easier it would have been if we had its twin instead of my battered old chart.”

  The servant had brought refreshments and Solaros sat between us, graciously serving up delicacies onto two platters and pouring wine.

  “Its twin,” he said with a laugh, “occupies six floors of a large tower. It gives us a view of the entire world and allows our wizards to manipulate the weather. And keep watch on important events... and the people involved.”

  “Such as the Greycloaks and the Anteros, your Highness?” Janela said.

  “Exactly,” the Prince said. Then, to me: “Do you know how excited all Tyrenia was when you and Janos Greycloak set out on your expeditions?”

  “As it turned out,” I said, “we failed.”

  Solaros smiled and sipped his wine. “You didn’t fail so much as stop too soon. Of course that was long before I was born but I’m told the whole city went into mourning when it became apparent Lord Greycloak had missed the vital clues to our presence in the vaults of Irayas. Still, it was a marvelous achievement and gave many hope.”

  “Including your father, your Highness?” I asked, hiding sarcasm.

  “Actually, yes,” the Prince said — to my surprise. He paused, struggling for words, then said: “It’s easier if I start at the beginning. And please bear with me if sometimes sound like an old schoolmaster.”

  He refilled our goblets and began.

  “As you have long suspected a good deal of this world you see before you -” he waved at the globe “- was once a great civilization that we nurtured and controlled. How this came to be is not so certain for time has made the picture dim. However, most of our scholars agree we Tyrenians were as savage and ignorant as all the rest. But we had a talent for organization and when writing became known to us we quickly turned this talent into records which we meticulously studied and maintained.”

  The Prince laughed. “In short, we were wondrous scribes. But the result was that over time our wizards had organized all that was known of magic, which they added to greatly over the centuries. This made them the superiors of the sorcerers of our enemies — or those whose lands we coveted. I must be honest and tell you that we were, and are, no different than other people in such matters. The second thing this dry talent for organization gave us was a disciplined army which easily defeated the poor savages who dared oppose us and kept them permanently under our rule.”

  He made a sour face. “In many cases, I suppose,” he said, “this meant they were enslaved.” Then he shrugged. “But who am I to judge the ancients. They were hard men and women to match the times.”

  I sipped my wine to cover my feelings. In my view, as you know, there is no excuse for such treatment of your fellows. And as for harder times, what pray tell did the Prince call these? Ah, well. At least I had to credit him with some delicate feelings his father evidently did not share.

  “But there were not so many wars as you might expect,” the Prince continued. “There were few large settlements under single rule. Mainly we achieved our empire through trade and attrition. People naturally came under our sway. Some because they feared us, some because they
saw all the wonders our wizards were creating. Toil was lessened; hunger nearly banished; nature gentled. There was time for pleasure. For art and music. For the writing and reading of books and poems for the sake of the words alone. That is how things were when the first attack came.”

  “The demons, your Highness?” Janela murmured.

  “Yes, the demons,” the Prince said. “But you should know such creatures were nothing new to us. We encountered them wherever we settled and either made them our Favorites or killed them if they were too powerful and dangerous. But they were wild things. More canny than intelligent, and with no other purpose than immediate gratification.”

  “Like Azbaas’ demon, your Highness?” I asked.

  Solaros nodded. “Most of our great wizards thought they were as natural to this world as evil kings like Azbaas. That they were merely dangerous nuisances such as the were-tigers who prey on distant villages or sea beasts who attack the far-seeking mariner. We didn’t know they came from other worlds... attracted to us like leeches to the scent of hot blood.”

  “In other words,” Janela said, “the more successful humanity became the more we drew their notice.”

  The Prince frowned. “I suppose so,” he said. “Although no one I know has ever put it that way.”

  I saw Janela jolt back as if she had a sudden shock. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, then flashed back to life — glittering with realization.

  “Actually, your Highness,” she said, “I believe there’s more to it than that. But never mind just now. Please, go on.”

  “It wasn’t a single attack,” the Prince said, “but many attacks launched simultaneously. To say we were caught by surprise has to be one of the great understatements in history. For we weren’t aware such an enemy even existed. And here we were confronted by demon legions who appeared from the blue and at their head was the most cunning and powerful king anyone could ever have imagined. His name is Ba’land and he seemingly lives forever, for he commands the demons still.