Two young grooms accepted their reins in the small courtyard, and an elderly servant answered the sergeant-at-arms call for someone to attend them. The old man, stooped with age beneath a pate festooned with thin threads of gray hair, smiled when he saw Berengar. "Come, come, Count Fisher. My master is expecting you."
Berengar and Gena exchanged surprised looks, but followed the man nonetheless into the musty, dark building constructed around the base of the main tower. Torches burned in every fourth sconce, providing just enough illumination for Gena to pick her way around haphazard barricades and caches of weapons stored in shadowed niches. She could see no rhyme nor reason to any of it except to wonder if the master of the castle feared a coming need to defend his home even into the hallways.
The servant led them into a small room with moldering tapestries covering all the walls. Across from them, behind a thick oaken table set with a pair of burning candles, a wizened old man sat huddled in a huge chair. His pale flesh had faded past the white of his hair and long beard to the point where it appeared blue in some places and ivory in others depending if it covered meat or bone. Most of it covered bone, leaving Gena with the impression that she stood before a skeleton encased in glass.
One hand rose as if a puppet's limb being manipulated by an arthritic puppeteer, and the long-nailed finger that came out to point at them quivered. In a voice not much more stable than the finger, the old man croaked, "So you are Berengar Fisher. My spies told me you were coming."
As if on cue, a raven descended from the blackness overhead and landed on the table. Its talons scrabbled against the wood as it walked forward, its head bobbing. It twisted its head to peer down into the heavy goblet on the table; then the bird swung around to face them. It cawed loudly, and the old man started as if he had drifted off to asleep after speaking.
Berengar took one step forward. "I am Berengar Fisher, pleased again to be in the company of Earl Blackoak."
"Is that so?" The man's cloudy blue eyes barely seemed to move, and Gena wondered if he could even see her in the gloomy light. "Then you will indulge me, nephew."
"As you wish, uncle."
Gena heard noise in the hallway and glanced back to see a number of the castle's soldiers gathering at the threshold
"If you are Berengar Fisher, then you are an assassin. Tell me how you will slay me." The old man's eyes sparked with energy "And tell me truly, for I will know if you lie, and you will not like the consequences of trying to deceive me."
Chapter 18:
Anticipation of Children
Autumn
Reign of the Red Tiger Year 3
Imperium Year 1
Five Centuries Ago
My Thirty-seventh Year
***
A SHIVER RAN down my spine as I again stepped into the Reithrese chapel at the base of the Imperial Tower in Jarudin. Though the month since I had fought here had wrought many changes in the city and the world, the burn scar on the back of my left hand reminded me how close I had come to dying. While I was not so certain that the average member of the Elder races was that much tougher than the average Man, I knew the elite among the Elder races had great power, and I wondered how long I would be able to defy such people without paying for my audacity.
Xerstan, the balding, bulbous architect whom the Red Tiger—better known now as Emperor Beltran Primus—had assigned to designing new constructions and renovations, bowed his head to me as he entered the room The yellowed light given off by the tallow candles illuminating the room made him look jaundiced, but I preferred that to the bloody pallor that the now-dead fires had spread across the room when I first saw it. "Forgive my being late, Lord Neal, but my apprentice was tardy in making the wax impressions of your dagger."
He held Wasp out to me, and I returned it to the sheath at my right hip. "I trust, then, that the emperor has agreed to the plan we discussed?"
The small man nodded confidently. "He is still of a mind to fill this room and seal it for all time, but your idea has piqued his sense of irony. Preparations will take a year, though if things go the way the first month of conquest has gone, we may be ready by spring." He walked past me and squatted awkwardly beside the hilt of the emperor's sword. "I do not know if I am comfortable with this being here, or if I would feel less so if we removed it. It was rather nasty as I understand it."
I scratched at the twisted flesh on the back of my hand. "I think leaving it here is appropriate." I glanced up at the effigy of Tashayul. "Strikes me as appropriate that it should have burned out in roughly the same spot as Tashayul's heart. I think it requires a prayer to Reithra to activate, and I'm thinking I've no desire to hear such a thing uttered in earnest here."
"May the gods grant everyone your wisdom in that matter. Fortunately I don't think there is a Reithrese left in the city, so this will not be a problem."
He was correct. The Red Tiger had declared martial law immediately and dealt harshly with looters and vandals. Because Jarudin was a northern city, the Reithrese population tended to migrate back to Reith for the winters, and a great number of them had taken time to travel with the army that had moved through the Elven Holdings to trap us in the mountains. As a result, the Reithrese population remaining in the city was relatively small. The empress gave Beltran her parole and led the remaining Reithrese back toward their homeland with no more than they could fit on wagons. Haladina rode as their guards and departed in good order.
I had not expected things to go as well as they had. Sulane, the imperial widow, accepted Beltran's terms quickly, as if she had anticipated something harsher. Aarundel said she'd heard stories about my intent to make her my wife, prompting her to leave as quickly as possible. While that rumor might have been a contributing factor, I assumed she agreed because Beltran asked only one thing for ransom for her and her people: time. In return for five years of peace, he let her go.
The Human population in the city moved from their hovels into the grander homes of their Reithrese masters, but that migration likewise worked on a system Beltran had devised. That the transition went smoothly made me thankful once again that I had avoided temptation and had given him the crown. Not only was he a leader, but he was thoughtful. He considered laws and policies, their implications and problems, before imposing a solution.
The trade of time to the Reithrese was a brilliant example of his forethought. He knew that time meant nothing to them. Five years would pass before they noticed, but it would be seen among Humanity as a veritable eternity. It would allow him to consolidate his grip on Ispar and to promote revolts in Barkol and Esquihir, while Sture headed off to Irtysh to liberate it. Thousands of Human children would become world-aware with a Human empire dominating the world's geography. They would take pride in it, and when the time came, they would rise to defend it.
Likewise, his system for parceling out homes worked to bring people together and make them mindful of the sacrifices endured in winning the empire. The grandest houses were given over to his allies and commanders in repayment of their service to him. A whole section of the Inner Ring was set aside for the Mountain Men, and everyone was looking forward to the spring and their liberation from their icy prison. Aarundel and I were given homes in that area, but I declared mine the Roclawzi embassy and sent word to my brother that he should send an ambassador or two.
The rest of the homes were given out based on the number of years individuals and families had been in thrall to the Reithrese. An effort was made to redress the losses of those who had seen their homes destroyed, their families slain, and their wealth stolen by Tashayul's host. Disputes arose and there was some fraud, but Beltran and his judges cut through all, meting out justice swiftly and sharply to those who deserved it, rewarding honesty and redressing tragedy wherever they found them.
In many ways I think the two most difficult cases for the Red Tiger to deal with were Aarundel and myself. Sture had been easy to appease. Newly freed Irtyshites who had been brought to the capital by their Reithrese ma
sters swelled the Exile Legion's ranks to nearly double. With Beltran's blessing, Sture left amid fanfare to liberate his frozen homeland.
Aarundel studiously sought to downplay his role in the affair, but did accept a home and a title. Beltran sought to reward him with more, but Aarundel continually refused. Finally the emperor offered to write and send to Aarundel's kin an accounting of his exploits, and the Elf relented with the proviso that the Red Tiger would no more press him on the matter of reward.
The Red Tiger could understand, with Aarundel being an Elf and all, why he might refuse Man-offered honors. I confused him more when I turned down his request to become his warlord. He wanted to bring the Steel Pack into imperial service as one of his two bodyguard companies—an idea to which I agreed after polling my Men and discovering they wanted that as well. I granted him that pleasure and nominated Fursey Nine-finger to replace me. Other than that, as I told him, hot food, a warm bed, and cold ale would be more than enough reward for me.
That was not sufficient for him, however; he advanced a number of reasons for his opinion, and I had a hard time disagreeing with any of them. If I did not accept some sort of position, it would be assumed that I had repudiated our alliance and it could be taken that I had no confidence in him. Moreover, I had become a symbol of the revolt, as had he, and order had to be imposed over things while it still could be, or the rebellion against the Reithrese might fall apart without any preparation for the battles that would still come.
He pointed out, for example, that a number of very idealistic young men had taken to burning the backs of their left hands with brands and glowing irons to ape the scar I had from killing the emperor. The Red Tiger and I agreed this was nonsense—and regretted the clumsy ones who managed to burn their hands off—so we established that the soldiers in Emperor's Own Steel Pack were to wear a branded leather glove on their left hands in honor of Lord Neal, Knight-Defender of the Empire, and that they would not take kindly to anyone lampooning this tradition outside their ranks. As the brand they used the six-lined rune for the Roclaws, which didn't look anything like my scar, but reminded people of me anyway and got their point across.
Being so honored both gratified and terrified me. I must admit pleasure at how readily the men of the Steel Pack agreed to wearing the gloves. What the Red Tiger and I had created as the solution to a problem, they embraced proudly as a newborn tradition. A greater troop of warriors I could not imagine commanding, and I admit to feeling a thrill when I heard ballads sung in our honor.
I had agreed to the title only because the Red Tiger trapped me into it. If I had no title, then the honor the Steel Pack showed me would be thought a fraud, and I would dishonor them by refusing a title. I bargained hard, so the purview of the Knight-Defender of the Empire was to go where I wanted, do what I wanted, all the while answering only to the emperor himself—that latter coming only if I wanted to answer to him, too. The position included a stipend, which I didn't want, but it proved useful for keeping Shijef in sheep so he'd stop eating dogs and cats.
A messenger skidded slightly as he rounded a corner and burst into the chapel with youthful exuberance. He sucked in a great breath as he regained his balance and tugged his tunic into shape. "My Lord Knight-Defender . . ."
"Neal will do, there." I squinted at him. "Clarmund, is it?"
He looked surprised. "Yes, sir, my Lord. Ah, my Lord, I have been sent by the emperor to request your presence in the imperial audience hall. An embassy has arrived, and he deems it important for you to be present."
I smiled. As much as I eschewed anything that had the vaguest hint of officialdom about it, I had been looking forward to seeing whomever my brother might have sent to represent the Roclaws in the imperial court. Not having spent much time in the Roclaws since Tashayul's death, it occurred to me that I might not have any clue as to who the ambassador might be, or where that person stood amid the various Roclawzi factions, but seeing a fellow countryman would be a joy nonetheless after all this time.
I followed Clarmund out from the chapel and around to the staircase that spiraled up and around the tower. It had a twin on the far side with which it danced around but never intersected. That stairway had been cut more broadly and had been decorated with carvings that must have excited the Reithrese. Mercifully the Red Tiger had their artwork covered with tapestries, and not a few rugs hung to the same end. While that stairway served well for formal parties going to the second level of the tower, I preferred the plain servants' stair, because ostentation makes me itch and you can't beat a servants' passage as a place to pick up great gossip.
The imperial audience hall had been designed and decorated by a Reithrese who appeared not to have been as lugubrious as the chapel's architect. The whole room had a woodland feel, with columns carved to look like trees, their branches spreading out and up to form the ceiling vaults. The ceiling rose high enough to break up through the next level, and little viewing galleries had been carved within the branches so anyone in the chamber above could took down upon the proceedings. The walls had been painted with pastoral and woodland art, though the creatures represented ran long toward predators, and more than once Men were pictured as the object of a hunt.
Though I should not have thought it odd of a people who have gems for teeth, the throne was a remarkable piece of work. Fashioned from a smoky quartz, the throne's back appeared to be a giant incisor. The seat and arms were shaped from molars, and two long, upturned fangs arced up and out to curve above the emperor. The fittings that joined all of these teeth together were gold and set with gemstones which, I knew from previous examination, were Reithrese teeth and were rumored to have been taken from Tashayul's rivals for power.
What I did not know, and really did not want to know, was if the giant teeth were carved by artisans or had graced the mouth of something far too big to make me comfortable.
The chamberlain was about to announce me, but I waved him to silence and wandered down through the stone garden to where a small delegation of four stood speaking with the emperor. I recognized Aarundel but didn't question his presence initially, because he had met my kin in the mountains. His presence made sense. It was not until I saw him gesture with his right hand that I realized in it he held the hand of the woman standing next to him. I mentally revised that to sylvanesti next to him and felt my heart begin to beat faster.
Beltran looked up and eased the crown back on his head. "Ah, my Knight-Defender hath arrived. You know him, of course, Ambassador."
The Elf standing opposite Aarundel on the left side of the throne turned and nodded in my direction. "He served as vindicator for Aarundel when he and my granddaughter Marta were wed." His voice remained neutral, but I felt a bit of respect when he inclined his head toward me. "I am pleased to see the Reithrese have not yet harvested you."
"And I am pleased to see you again, Sidalric Consilliari." I stopped and bowed formally to him. As I straightened up, I smiled at Marta. "And you. Lady Marta." Turning back toward Sidalric, I racked my brain to remember Marta's mother's name, for I felt certain she had to be the veiled sylvanesti attending the ambassador. Grationa, that's it.
As I started to speak, the sylvanesti stepped away from the ambassador and, with hands sheathed in fawn leather, raised the white veil she had worn. Words died in my throat, though my mouth did remain open. I blinked, twice and again, then forced myself to resume breathing. "Doma Larissa, I am honored."
"It is my honor to be in the presence of the Knight-Defender of the Empire." She gave me a smile that set my heart to burning more fiercely than the old emperor's sword ever had, and I hoped it was a fire that would never go out. "Tales of your bravery and ferocity have reached even unto Cygestolia."
I coughed into my hand, then shook my head. "My Lady, you are far too wise to believe even a portion of them, for you know they are nine parts lies to one part rumor."
Larissa just smiled serenely. "But even if those rumors were nine parts exaggeration, the one part truth in them woul
d make you more than worthy of the praises sung in your name."
"You are most kind, my Lady."
Beltran clapped his hands. "You are indeed special, Lady Larissa. I have fought for a month to get Neal to acknowledge his part in our victory, and he evades it as if praise were a whipping. You tame him with a glance and a turn of phrase."
I gave him a stare of pure poison. "She's had years of dealing with stupid animals. Majesty."
"Centuries, actually."
I clutched my chest with my left hand. "And in all that time, never so deftly did you wound one so deeply."
"I'd vouchsafe never had she dealt with one so contrary as my Knight-Defender."
"I believe you will recover, my Lord." She smiled at me teasingly.
"Your words are balm to my wound, my Lady."
"Wit and charm from Neal?" The Red Tiger scratched at his beard. "My Lady Larissa, you are a miracle worker. Though I regret being parted from your company, I might suggest you minister to my Knight-Defender in the stone ocean on this level. And you, Aarundel, if you would care to show your lovely wife yet another part of this tower, the ambassador and I can begin some discussion of issues common to his realm and mine."
I bowed deeply toward the throne. "Then, my Liege, I beg of you leave to escort Lady Larissa to the ocean."
Beltran frowned. "I believe I prefer reluctance to satire."
"Your wish is my command."
"Get out of here, Neal!" he shouted in mock command. "My Lady, go with him, cure him if you can, and give me back the Neal of old. If you cannot, this one you may keep with my compliments."
Once A Hero Page 28