by Steven Brust
"If you wish, I can ask the Goddess for guidance."
"I can see no reason not to," said the Dragonlord.
"I shall set about doing so, then."
"Yes, and I will await the results, for you perceive it is no small matter that we consider. Indeed, a great more than my own fate may rest upon the decision I ultimately make."
"As to that," said Arra, "I have no doubt at all."
Chapter the Forty-Seventh
How Tazendra Put the Empress's
Suggestion into Action
Khaavren was awakened early the following morning by a remarkably loud sound, in the form of a "boom" similar to what a heavy log might make when dropped from a great height into a rocky valley of the sort that generates considerable echoes. He came at once to his feet, to find that everyone else was also rising, the entire camp having been startled by this sound. He wondered at once who was on watch, and, without thinking about it, consulted the Orb to learn the time—which action proved how quickly he had, in some ways at least, habituated himself to its return.
Having learned the time, he was able to quickly determine that it was the last watch, and that, therefore, it was being shared, according to the scheme that he had laid down, by Iatha and Tazendra, wherefore he at once called for the Dzurlord by name.
"I am here," she said coolly, emerging from behind a large stone, from which, Khaavren realized, a certain amount of heavy gray smoke was also emerging, as if a fire had been quickly smothered in that spot.
"The Horse!" cried Khaavren. "Are you injured?"
"Bah. It is nothing."
"How, nothing?" said Khaavren, as the others, now fully awake, also stared at her. "You perceive, your face is blackened, much of your clothing burned and torn to the point where your modesty is compromised, and, if I am not deceived, there is smoke still curling from your left hand."
"Well," shrugged Tazendra, endeavoring to adjust her clothing. "It is not so bad as it looks."
"But what happened?"
"Oh, as to that—"
"Yes?"
"Her Majesty—" Here she bowed in the direction of Zerika. "—was right."
"That doesn't startle me," said Khaavren. "But, in what way was she right?"
"My friend, you know that I have trained as a wizard."
"Well, yes, I am not unacquainted with this intelligence—my son has spoken to me of it, and, what is more, I had the honor of seeing you perform in that little entertainment we just enjoyed."
"And, moreover, I was a sorcerer in the old days."
"I cannot forget how often our lives were saved by the flashstones you prepared for us. But what then?"
"Her Majesty did me the honor to suggest that, the next time I performed a spell, I ought to draw power from the Orb."
"Well, and?"
"I had bethought myself that, before attempting such a spell upon an enemy, I ought to make a test."
"You thought of that yourself, Tazendra?"
"Entirely."
"Well, it was a good thought."
"I am gratified to hear you say so, my friend."
"And so, then, you made this test?"
"Yes, and it is good that I did, because, well, the Orb has changed."
"How, changed?"
"Exactly."
"In what way has it changed?"
Tazendra frowned, as if looking for the words she required to clearly explain a difficult concept. "It is," she said at last, "as if you were attempting to lift a boulder, only to discover that it was made of paper."
"That is good, if you wish to lift it," observed Khaavren.
"I attempted to start a small fire. Instead of a fire igniting, however, the stick I was attempting to ignite quite exploded, making a considerable amount of smoke, and no small degree of noise."
"I had remarked upon the noise," said Khaavren. "And, moreover, I perceive the smoke. But what can account for this change?"
"Oh, as to that, I cannot say."
Khaavren turned to Zerika, as if to ask her opinion of this strange phenomenon, but the Empress merely shrugged, as if to say that, never having felt the presence of the Orb before the Interregnum, she had no standard against which to compare it.
"Is it possible," said Khaavren, "that, somehow, the Orb has changed, and that sorcery is more powerful?"
"If it is," said Ibronka suddenly, "then perhaps Röaana's leg can be healed."
The Tiassa, who had been sitting on the ground, looked up hopefully. Piro glanced at Ibronka, then at Röaana, then at Zerika, and finally at Tazendra as he considered the question, the potential, the unknown, and the possibilities.
"I know little of healing," said Tazendra, blushing a bit, as if ashamed of admitting to a limit to her knowledge.
"I believe," said Ibronka, "that you know more than any of the rest of us."
At this point, Grassfog hesitantly cleared his throat.
"Well?" said Ibronka, turning to look at him quickly.
"I was apprenticed to a physicker for a time, shortly before the Interregnum."
"How, you?" said Ibronka.
Grassfog bowed his head.
"And how did you go from physicker's apprentice to brigand?"
"Easily enough," said Grassfog. "My mistress died, and none of the spells I knew for healing were efficacious, and I had to eat, because I considered that, as every living thing must eat to live, and as I was a living thing, should I stop eating I would no longer live, and I wished to continue living."
"Yes, I understand that," said Ibronka, struck by the extreme justice of this explanation. "But, do you think you can heal my friend's leg, now that the Orb has returned?"
"It is possible," said Grassfog, with some hesitation. "You perceive, it has been a long time. Yet, I am not unwilling to make the attempt."
"Then, you are willing?" said Piro.
"Entirely," said Grassfog.
"In that case," said Khaavren. "Do so at once."
"I shall, I assure you. Come," he said to the Tiassa girl, "make yourself comfortable."
"Oh, I am comfortable."
"Then permit me to examine the wound."
"How," said Ibronka, "you wish to examine her leg? Here? In front of, well, here?"
Piro felt himself flushing, though he was not certain as to the cause of this reaction, and turned away in some confusion, remarking to his father that he would see how the servants were coming along on breakfast. Kytraan, for his part, at once agreed with this plan and pretended he could assist his friend in this difficult task.
Khaavren gave his son a look full of amusement, and suggested that Röaana be brought some distance away where considerations of modesty could be met as well as sorcerous and medical requirements. While this was taking place, Tazendra took herself to a stream at the foot of the mountain where she cleaned herself up, after which she returned to the encampment and, with Aerich's help, effected such repairs on her clothing as she could (the reader must understand that she was unable to change her clothing, as her valise had been carried away when her horse had been stolen). By the time she returned to the encampment, Röaana was standing, leaning against Ibronka and smiling at Grassfog.
"It is a marvel!" cried the young Tiassa.
"Well, it is true what was said," said the onetime brigand. "It does seem easier to draw upon the power of the Orb now than it did. It seems as if—"
But Röaana was not, in fact, interested in the details. She said, "Whatever caused it, it is wonderful. I believe that, with the help of a stick, I will be able to walk nearly as fast as anyone. There is no pain, and only a little weakness in my leg."
"Is there a scar?" said Ibronka.
"None at all," said Röaana.
"Ah! That is too bad," said the Dzur sympathetically.
Khaavren smiled slightly at this interchange, then said, "Come, let us break camp. We have a long way to travel, and we should be about it at once."
"My lord," said Grassfog. "Ought I to take the time to see what I c
an do for those of our enemies who are wounded?"
"No," said Pel, coolly.
"Yes," said Zerika, scowling at Pel.
"In my judgment, Your Majesty," said Khaavren, "he should do what he can to comfort anyone who is dying. And, for anyone who will live, well, consider that they are enemies, and it will do us no good to have them healthy and in our rear."
"I cannot always tell who will live and who will die," said Grassfog, "unless I make the attempt at healing."
"Moreover," said Zerika, "I believe that we can accept their parole."
"Will they give their parole?" said Khaavren.
"Kill anyone who doesn't," said the Empress coolly.
"Very well," said Khaavren. "With this plan, I agree. But work quickly," he added, looking to the west. "I wish to be on our way within the hour."
The others acknowledged this request, and at once set themselves to work. While they were busy "striking camp" as is said by those of a military bent, we must now, for the sake of completeness, make certain brief but important investigations into some of the other places where certain events are taking place. While these events are not of sufficient breadth, if we may use such a term, to justify devoting a chapter of our history to them, they are, nevertheless, too significant to ignore without the danger of leaving the reader confused as to how and why later events transpired as they did.
At just about the time the Empress was setting out, then, led by the intrepid Khaavren (whom Zerika continued to insist upon calling "Captain"), Kâna was receiving a messenger as he rode near the head of a column of infantry. He permitted the messenger to approach him, whereupon he said, "Well, and who has dispatched you?"
"General Brawre, Your Majesty."
"Ah. What is it that the general wishes to communicate to me?"
"Just this, Your Majesty: Everything is moving as you wish, and the advanced units will be in sight of Dzur Mountain in nine days at the present rate of march."
"Well, that is good. I am pleased."
"The general will be pleased that Your Majesty is pleased. But, are there any additional instructions I am to give?"
"Oh, as to that, I must consult with Izak about matters of coordination. Do you go and find him, and have him meet me here."
"As Your Majesty wishes."
In a short time, Izak, still not entirely certain how he felt about his recent promotion, had arrived and was speaking with Kâna.
"The question, my dear Izak," said the latter, "is, can we be at Dzur Mountain in nine days?"
"Your Majesty," said Izak, "I think so."
"How, you think so?"
"That is to say, if we do not have any unexpected delays."
"Hmmm," said His Majesty. "Well then, see that we do not."
Izak bowed, and returned to his duty, worry apparent on his brow.
We must now take the reader to a point a few hours later and some distance away, from an army to a small detachment of that army—to wit, Tsanaali's detachment. As we look upon them, making their way westward at a good speed, this very speed became the subject of conversation, when Marra said, "Captain, at this pace we will kill the horses."
Tsanaali frowned and looked behind him at the remainder of his troop, noticed how spread out they had become and the sweat evident on the horses close to him, and, sighing, signaled that they should slow down to a walk.
"You are right, Marra, and you were right to mention it. I am too anxious to arrive in a timely manner."
"I understand, Captain."
"At best," said Tsanaali, "it will take us eight more days to get there."
Marra nodded. "Nine is more likely, I think."
"Yes, perhaps nine. We must not permit it to take any longer than that, however."
"Yes, Captain. I understand. But—"
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"When we get there, what will we do?"
"As to that, I cannot say for certain. We will fight, or be sent on patrols. But, more significantly, while we travel, we will be able to learn if there is any organized resistance to His Majesty, and give a report when we arrive."
"I understand, Captain. Then, in a few days, we will begin a careful watch."
"That is right, Lieutenant. Apropos, how are our supplies?"
"We have plenty, Captain. The horses of our late opponents, and their pack animals, were well supplied. We will have no need to stop before we arrive at Dzur Mountain."
The captain nodded, and stared into the distance. "Dzur Mountain," he repeated quietly.
Far away in space, and, as we have already suggested, an unknowable distance away in time, in the Halls of Judgment, Verra was sitting with what appeared to be a young child seated on her lap. But, instead of speaking or playing with this child, Verra was addressing the Gods, saying, "We are committed now. Not only has the Orb returned, but Sethra Lavode has sent an emissary to Morrolan—Morrolan being the Dragonlord of whom, you may recall, I spoke some time ago."
"Yes," said Ordwynac. "I, for one, am unable to forget. And what will this Dragonling do, now that an emissary has arrived? Is it not the case that his little force is not only untrained and poorly organized, but also outnumbered more than thirty to one?"
"Ah," said Verra. "I perceive you have been keeping a watch on matters in their progression."
"Well."
"As for how it will all develop, there is now contact between Dzur Mountain and the Orb, and between Dzur Mountain and Morrolan and his witches. And Morrolan, I think, will soon establish contact between himself and the Orb. Thus, the three sides of the triangle will come together. A triangle is a strong structure and will be hard to break."
"You speak in abstractions. I speak of a discrepancy of forces of thirty to one."
"Abstractions, my love, are not always further from the truth than facts; sometimes they are closer."
"I am not convinced."
"Then let us observe. The true test of strategy is found on the battlefield, not in the mind of a strategist."
There was some murmuring among the others of the Gods at this observation, but none of them spoke against it.
"In this instance," said Trout, speaking for the first time. "Verra is right. We must wait and see."
As Trout spoke, the child on Verra's lap shifted a little to hold the Goddess closer, as if for protection.
Chapter the Forty-Eighth
How Morrolan Prepared for Battle
And Was Forced to Consider
The Considerations of Command
Insofar as They Involve Considering
Morrolan stood before the temple he was causing to be built and met there a lone rider, an Easterner who traveled in the company of a dog and a cat, and who had generally come to be known as the Warlock. The Warlock had been observed by a workman on the temple roof some ten minutes before, and word had been sent to Morrolan, who had rushed out to meet him, so that, by the time the rider dismounted, the Dragonlord was standing next to his stirrup, where, at a polite distance, out of earshot, gathered those always curious about seeing this enigmatic individual, as well as those who had been happily watching the workmen, with the idle pleasure that combines the joy of watching someone else work when one need not, with the more sublime delight that is always associated with observing the growth of a new structure.
"You are back quickly," said Morrolan.
"Well, that is true. You have not yet left."
"We were to have left yester-day, but, it seems, we will not be ready until morning to-morrow."
"Perhaps that is just as well."
"How, do you think so?"
"Nearly."
"From this remark, and, moreover, from the very fact that you have returned so quickly, I presume you have something to tell me that might cause me to change my plans."
"That is not impossible."
"Well, let us withdraw to within the temple, find a bottle of the local wine, which, though perhaps too spicy, is nevertheless palatable for all of that, and then, why, you will
give me your news."
"I can find nothing to say against this plan."
"Then let us execute it."
And, arm in arm, the tall Dragonlord and the short Easterner repaired within the temple, followed by the ubiquitous dog and the cat, where Morrolan managed to find a cool bottle of wine and two cups. As Morrolan worked the tongs and feather as best he could (he had only recently been shown, by Teldra, how to use this equipment), the Warlock said, "Well, the first thing you must know is that, indeed, there are armies marching."
"Ah, you saw them?"
"I did, or Awtlá did; it is all the same."
"Very well, if that is what you say, I will accept it. So, there are armies marching. More than one?"
"Two. One from the west, the other from the north."
"And the numbers?"
"The one from the west has nearly forty thousand."
"Forty thousand!" cried Morrolan. "Perhaps I should turn my attention to the other!"
"Alas, the other has closer to sixty thousand, including infantry and cavalry."
"Verra!" said Morrolan.
"Moreover," said the Warlock.
"Yes?"
"The army that is advancing from the west seems, unless they change directions, to be heading directly for us."
"Hmm. So that, in fact, we could defend this position, rather than attacking."
"That is true, my lord."
"And yet, I should much prefer to attack."
"Well, as to that, you must decide. You perceive, I understand nothing of these matters."
"It is clear that I must consider the matter carefully. We are gaining troops every day; the longer we remain here, the more time we can spend drilling them, which Fentor pretends will make them more effective in combat. Apropos, when is the enemy likely to be in this region?"
"Two weeks, perhaps a month."
"How precisely can you calculate wither they are bound?"
"If they continue as they are marching, they will meet at a point somewhat north of here, but, of course, we cannot know exactly."
"Very well, I will consider—"
"There is more," the Warlock interrupted.
"How, more? What then?"
"A small troop, perhaps twenty or twenty-five in number, is coming from the east, and much more rapidly."