“Save a spot for me,” I agreed, toasting my former apprentice. “Now, tell me about Callierd, as you have made it.”
No man can resist speaking at length about his work, when invited. Tyndal gave an enthusiastic account of his efforts, including his troubles and challenges. But his complaints were few and his report tended to focus mostly on his triumphs.
I learned that Tyndal’s generous settlement terms had drawn many more people to Callierd than either of us suspected it might. But when when he started regularly purchasing the best horses at Vanador’s market for breeding stock, that summer, and people learned of his plans to raise thoroughbred destriers and quality rounceys, he attracted the attention from like-minded folk. Some wanted to be part of his enterprise.
Many of the fine Southern mounts he purchased had been champion warhorses in Enultramar, and were widely admired even by those who could not afford them. Tyndal spent lavishly on them each market day during the summer until he had quite a collection in his stables. He also encouraged his vassals to cultivate their own herds by setting the price of his tribute in horses, not grain or other commodities. Each manor had to pay him in a stud and two mares annually. Each freehold owed him a single rouncey on Luin’s Day.
That was too generous a tax scheme for the enterprising Wilderfolk of Vanador, and word spread as far as Vorone. Horses are expensive, but they can be predictably bred. More predictably than, for instance, bringing in a crop of wheat or barley. The rolling dales of Callierd provided plenty of wholesome pasture for them, and the lack of grain tribute allowed Tyndal’s holdings to become more self-sufficient, sooner.
By late summer a stream of eager horsemen were leading trains of rounceys up the road from Vorone, to either settle or sell at market. Tyndal quickly settled four more estates and a dozen freeholds with equestrian-minded men and their families. Included among them were some dispossessed Wilderlord knights from the western hillcountry who were looking for someplace familiar to re-start their broken lives. Preference was given to any who may have had eruptions of Talent in their families.
By all accounts Tyndal was choosy about whom he rented to . . . but it was noted that the noblemen who accepted his terms also all enlisted a crop of new squires at Duin’s Day. Tyndal was building knights – mage knights, if he could, but knights.
“That’s all in the future, though,” he concluded, setting his mug down. “For now you’ll get fifty, and two companies of infantry. But I might be able to make up for my poor showing in another manner: military intelligence.”
“How so?” I asked. That wasn’t an area I generally associated with the young man.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” he said, cryptically, as he stood. “There’s someone upstairs I think you should speak with.”
“In later years, some faulted Minalan for what they viewed as a conciliatory manner in regard to our foes. In truth, he was attempting to manage his enemies much as he tried to manage his allies. When there was such a plethora of them, as he was fond of saying, it was a wizard’s job to discover ways in which to make their numbers a liability, not an asset. History demonstrates his ability to do so on the battlefield, but few appreciate how well he extended that concept into the realms of politics and diplomacy.”
From the Scrolls of Lawbrother Bryte the Wiser
Chapter Twenty-Six
A Quiet Conversation
At The Sign Of The Randy Rouncey
The second story of the old weaver’s shop was constituted as living quarters, and it only took a glance to tell me that there was someone making use of it. It was a spacious place, and the ceiling above was surprisingly high. As Ruderal and I followed Tyndal into the chamber he didn’t even have to duck his head to avoid the rafters.
“It’s near to twilight, so he should be getting up, by now,” Tyndal offered, as he opened a narrow door to a bedchamber.
“I’ve been up!” a gravelly, un-human voice called from the other end of the chamber. “How could I sleep with a couple of wizards drinking downstairs?”
Ruderal gasped, and froze.
“Gurkarl!” I realized immediately, as the gurvani emerged from the shadows. “How did you come to be here?” I asked, looking back and forth between the renegade goblin and my former apprentice.
“He sought me out,” Tyndal assured me as we found a seat near the tiny fire brazier the gurvani was huddled around. “He’s been on a mission for the Alkan Council.”
“I’ve completed my mission for the Alkan Council,” the gurvani countered as he sat. Ruderal looked on in wonder at a goblin speaking with two wizards like old acquaintances. “For two years, now, I have crossed the Kulines and spoken to hundreds of tribes to counter the words of the urgulnosti missionaries. I was largely successful,” he grunted, in lightly-accented Narasi.
“It helped that Korbal betrayed Sheruel,” Tyndal commented as he produced another jug of ale and four fresh mugs from a hoxter pocket. “Apparently that betrayal undercut the potency of the missionaries’ message.”
“You just can’t trust anyone these days,” Gurkarl grunted, happily accepting one of the mugs.
“So you were coming back from the Kulines?” I asked, pleased to see the goblin. He had a lot more gray in the fur around his eyes and mouth, and his voice had a more grim tone to it, but otherwise he seemed hale.
“Actually, I’ve just come from the Penumbra,” Gurkarl continued, as Tyndal filled his cup. “From His Majesty, King Ashakarl’s court-in-exile at Mekadarshku – some old pile of rocks we took from your folk in the early war.”
“He means Castle Dayne,” Tyndal supplied, helpfully.
“It’s remote and strategically unimportant, which is why King Ashakarl and his rebel court relocated there,” Gurkarl agreed. “It lies within the flinty hill country where many of the old tribes took residence. Indeed, I have recently come from an audience with His Majesty,” he reported.
This was news! “And how did you gain an audience?” I asked, eagerly.
“Our customs are still honored, particularly among the hill tribes,” Gurkarl said, after an eager drink. “I bore a token of safe passage from the Kuline clans, and convinced his courtiers to admit me. They’re looking for whatever aid they can find, now, and he thought I bore an offer from our eastern cousins.”
“And how were you received?”
“Once it was clear I wasn’t bringing an army with me, the court’s enthusiasm was somewhat dampened,” he chuckled, grimly. “But I learned much from the introduction. I bear news that will be of interest to you, and perhaps a message. For one, Ashakarl and his counselors take issue with the usurpation of gurvani power and is positively irate at Korbal’s enslavement of Sheruel.”
“You don’t expect me to get weepy at his loss, do you?” I asked, with a smirk. Gurkarl chuckled wryly, a harsh and unusual sound form a gurvan. He wasn’t any fonder of the Black Skull priests than I was.
“No, of course not,” the goblin conceded. “But it was an interesting discussion, and one I thought should be brought to your attention. After consultation, I would say that His Majesty is in a much more . . . forgiving state of mind regarding the humani now than Sharuel ever was.”
“That doesn’t stop him from fighting, enslaving, killing and eating us,” Tyndal reminded him, inspiring a grimace from Ruderal. Gurkarl made a face.
“It might surprise you to know that that practice has been condemned by many in the Court,” Gurkarl reported, with a gobliny shrug. “Among the older shamans, particularly, who say it is an offense against the gods. Those urgulnosti who have rebelled with Ashakarl have conceded the point, in the name of unity with the humani servants who supported him. The humani in the court, of course, were always against it.”
“And on the subject of genocide . . .?” I asked, curious.
“His Majesty is willing to table that, for the moment. Not that he has any choice,” Gurkarl observed. “Ashakarl has maybe sixty, seventy thousand tribal warriors at his command at m
ost. No more than three legions of trained troops, and several companies of hounds. Perhaps ten.”
“Why so many Fell Hounds?” Tyndal asked, surprised.
“Korbal’s forces don’t see much use for them, and many hound riders were purged when his blasted Nemovorti took over,” the goblin replied. “They were originally recruited from the northern tribes, anyway. So Ashakarl has not the force to prosecute such a war,” he concluded. “Not without Sheruel to support him. He may not have the force to defend his own exile.”
“Well, that sounds like good news for us!” Tyndal pointed out.
“Is it?” Gurkarl contested, sharply. “Perhaps you are not aware of the foes who have taken Sheruel’s place in the Penumbra, Tyndal.
“Korbal has set his damned Nemovorti over the legions,” Gurkarl reported, gravely. “He brings a cadre of Alka Alon – Enshadowed – to replace the shamans. They purged the urgulnosti of any dissent. They treat the gurvani as no more than slaves. It’s as if the worst of the ancient days have returned,” he reflected, disgust in his voice. “Only this time the most arrogant Alka Alon strut around in rotting humani bodies.
“If a shaman professes the old ways, or preaches any deviation from the Enshadowed’s desires, they are punished. If a gurvan is defiant, they are slain and their walking corpse completes the task they refused. They have no more respect of my folk than they do yours. These are not honest warriors, Tyndal. These are fiends!” he condemned.
“We’re well-acquainted with the Nemovorti,” I agreed, sighing at the troubling news. “We know all too well the dangers of the foe we face. Tyndal and I, and a host of others, went to war with the Necromancer at Olum Seheri, last year,” I informed him. “We were there when Korbal enslaved Sheruel. It was as treacherous an act as your people suspect. We struck him a grievous blow in that contest, but were not able to slay him,” I admitted. “Just entrap him into his current form.”
Gurkarl grunted, shaking his head. “Wizards! Of course you lot would be entangled in that.”
“You’ve heard the tale?” Tyndal asked.
“It probably will please you to no end to know this, but news of the Spellmonger’s battle with Korbal was what inspired Ashakarl to rebel against the Nemovorti. When it became clear that Korbal could be injured, despite what his fiends said, there sparked hope of a resistance in the royal court. The tale rallied the humani retainers of the court to stage a revolt on behalf of King Ashakarl. I hope you appreciate the irony, Minalan,” he said, chuckling. Gurkarl was a remarkably well-read goblin, having spent over a year under guard of monks. He appreciated humani concepts like irony and sarcasm better than most humani.
“So, the Goblin King wanted to wipe out humanity, when great-grandad Sheruel was ascendant and things were going his way,” I recounted, “but now that he and his puppet kingdom have been betrayed, and he is weak and endangered, he wants an alliance?”
“‘Alliance’ is, perhaps, too strong a term,” Gurkarl shrugged. “My people still owe yours a blood debt, for what you have done to us, a debt we see only partially repaid. Ashakarl would face open rebellion amongst his own court, if such a thing became known, and his base of power would fall. As it is, he has tribes who have feuded for centuries struggling over the few crumbs he was able to bring forth from the Penumbra.”
“Be candid,” I encouraged the gurvan. “Has he the strength and resolve to persist in his resistance? Or is he doomed?”
That caused the gurvan to reflect for a moment, his big eyes blinking in the gloom. No doubt he was deciding just how much news to impart to a nominal foe of his people. I could appreciate his delicate position. While Gurkarl was no devout follower of the Dead God, nor was he devoted to human civilization.
“Ashakarl’s supporters are few,” he finally reported. “Tribal chieftains who swore allegiance to him under the Old God and hold their oaths from the strength of tradition, alone. Generals who despise the Alka Alon in any form for what they have done to us in the distant past. Black Skull shamans who face death in Korbal’s realm for their defiance, should they return to the Demon God’s territories. Rebellious legions which would be decimated and disbanded and executed, if they were captured. Humani slaves and renegades who cleave to the court and King Ashakarl out of desperation. Alas, the court of the Goblin King is disunified and chaotic,” he pronounced. “I know not if it will survive.”
“That doesn’t actually sound much different from your average barony’s politics,” Tyndal pointed out.
“No doubt,” conceded Gurkarl. “In truth, it is the traditions and organization that the Court adopted from the humani that have kept them unified, not gurvani tradition. King Ashakarl demanded oaths of loyalty and homage from the humani renegades, just like a human lord would. He used them to pressure his loyalists into revolt when the Enshadowed revealed themselves, and then ordered their retreat with him to Mekadarshku. Had Ashakarl’s humani vassals not rallied and kept their oaths, his gurvani loyalists would not have had the heart to join. They remain the most stalwart and reliable of his supporters at his court.”
“Interesting!” Tyndal said, pouring more ale.
“Ironic,” Gurkarl countered.
“It is, both,” I agreed. “What is His Majesty’s disposition, now?”
“Now that he’s abandoned the center of the gurvani lands and retreated into the hills, the Nemovorti have largely ignored him,” Gurkarl reported. “Mekadarshku is hardly a major stronghold, but it is remote and in rugged territory. The Enshadowed don’t value the tribes of the flinty hills save for labor. They have their great warriors, now,” he said, grimly. “Those transformed despise the old ways and embrace their superiority over our folk.”
“We guessed as much from the results of a battle near here last spring,” I agreed. “The great goblins on one side, the tribal warriors on the other. Gurvani versus gurvani.”
“Those you call ‘great goblins’ are no longer gurvani,” Gurkarl countered, shaking his head. “King Ashakarl has declared them abominations, in deference to the traditionalists. They do not practice our ways and are devoted only to their own power. That is all they are concerned with in the Umbra. The Nemovort Zolim rules the sacred vale, while his lieutenants command the lands around it with an iron claw. Yet more of the undead fiends consolidate their power in the Penumbra. With so much to command, they can afford to ignore the King as a petty inconvenience. So His Majesty has been conducting raids against them, encouraging his enslaved legions to revolt and raiding his supply depots.”
“We’ve seen the evidence of the battles,” I agreed. “The Nemovorti won’t endure his rebellion that long,” I warned. “Once they feel secure in their power, and have contended with me, they will eliminate King Ashakarl out of hand. Korbal is not the kind to share his sovereignty with anyone. Just ask Sheruel.”
“His Majesty is acutely aware of that,” Gurkarl agreed with a chuckle. “Indeed, he is fortifying his castle against an inevitable siege and is positioning his legions to guard the approaches. But it takes effort to rouse the tribes, once they have been at peace. It takes materials to wage even a defensive war. And with no supplies, advancing is impossible. Without Sheruel to inspire them, the tribes prefer to fight in defense, or conduct profitable raids. They will defend Mekadarshku, but they will be difficult to muster in numbers for an attack beyond.”
“Nor will he be able to defend against the inevitable response to such an attack,” Tyndal nodded. “Without allies or magic, he doesn’t seem to enjoy a tenable position.”
“Exactly,” Gurkarl agreed. “So while King Ashakarl cannot make an alliance, officially, he acknowledges that if certain information were to quietly come to your hands, it might ease the pressure on his position. In return, he would be willing to take advantage of any certain information that came to him through you. If it came in good faith,” he added, wryly.
“I have no more reason to trust Ashakarl than he does to trust me,” I agreed. “And it would be very difficult to just
ify to my own people any discussion with enemies who have done them so much harm, so I appreciate his delicate position more than you might suspect. Thankfully, I have been granted great authority over the defense of this territory, now.”
“So I have heard. Congratulations on your advancement. It only became known in Ashakarl’s court while I was there, weeks ago. ‘The Spellmonger now stands in the east,’” he pronounced. “That gives many warriors pause.”
“If you are willing to serve as a conduit for such intelligence,” I reasoned, “that would give us some advantage. As a military matter, I can approve such a mission . . . provided that it remains clandestine.”
“And we do have a treaty,” Tyndal reminded me. “Though Korbal insists it is void, I don’t believe King Rard ever did. So it’s not as if we haven’t formally recognized Ashakarl. Even warring nations may have recourse to diplomatic discussions,” he observed.
That brought a round of chuckles from all of us. The “treaty” that Prince Tavard secured with the Goblin King’s representatives on the field had been the pretext for an awful lot of mischief. Few regarded it as a serious document, particularly after Korbal’s usurpation of power in the Umbra.
“Yes, that treaty,” snorted Gurkarl. “I see it’s viewed with similar esteem on both sides. Yet it was that very treaty that convinced His Majesty’s humani vassals of his legitimacy, and caused them to support him when the Enshadowed and the traitors attacked his court. More irony.”
“I can see the advantage of a little behind-the-curtain cooperation, in this instance,” I agreed. “But if I’m cooperating with a king whose stated purpose is the extinction of my people . . . that presents some challenges.”
“Agreed. As does the humani dedication to driving my people out of their ancestral homes,” Gurkarl reminded me.
“I see no strategic need for those hills, if they are not warring against us,” I decided. “And if the gurvani will be content with them, and cease their harassment of the Kasari lands, I would be willing to commit to that. Once the genocide issue is settled.”
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