by Tony Roberts
“If I were I’d be in one of their dungeons,” Demtro grinned. Then he went serious again. “You must stamp this Tybar presence out. And at the same time you can use this to conveniently arrest anyone contributing to the general unrest in Niake.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, come on, Evas! I’ve seen the reports you’ve sent the empress. She’s kept me up to date with what’s going on here. I even know what times you go to the toilet. You know there are groups here causing hardship to the people, like those rapacious rent collectors. Arrest a couple of the worst; get them to cancel the debts to their victims. That way the people have money to spend here on food or materials.”
“Like yours?” Evas asked nastily.
“Oh, tush tush, governor. You cast such aspersions upon my faultless character. It’ll help the struggling small traders no end if people can buy their products; this will in turn enable them to buy other raw materials, helping the local industries that produce them. Then suddenly you’re distributing the wealth around more people rather than watching a few greedy individuals gobbling it all up. Stop the loan hunters; they’re driving your people into penury. Arrest them, seize their goods.”
“You want to cause a revolt here?” the governor stared at the lounging man.
“No, to do the opposite. You’re far too worried about what a few people think about you to really be effective. Pander to the majority, and don’t forget the enemy at the gates.”
Evas went and looked out of the window over the square. People were walking past, heads down or not talking. A few were standing in groups, discussing whatever it was that they were interested in. “I’ve kept the peace here for so long,” he said quietly, almost too quiet for Demtro to hear, “that I’ve forgotten what I became governor for. I’ve got used to steering a middle course, to use a sailor’s term, to avoid the rocks. I once heard a ship’s captain say that,” Evas turned round, a wry smile on his face.
“Let me tell you how it is, Evas. I like you, despite the fact you wouldn’t say boo to a guard bird. The emperor runs this empire, and he’s busy kicking Bragalese backsides, so he leaves the running of the empire to his wife. She tells you and the other governors how it has to be done, and you in turn tell the people here the same. If she wants the Tybar threat eliminated, you do it. She’s not someone you want to annoy.”
“Tell me, Demtro, what is she really like?”
“Oh of course, you’ve never met her, have you? Well; as an empress, she’s got this inner toughness – she has to, to put up with a bully like Astiras – and will fight for what she wants. She’s very protective of her family, and will listen to sensible advice. She may not follow it, but she’ll listen, unlike Astiras. As a woman – wow. Absolutely stunning.”
“That’s irrelevant, isn’t it?”
Demtro shrugged. “Depends. If you’re asked to do something you’re not particularly keen to do, you’d do it more readily for someone who looks like the empress rather than someone who resembles the back end of a plough bovine.”
“But if any empress asks you to do something you’d do it, whether they looked great or not.”
“Point taken – but I was actually talking about women in general.”
“Don’t you normally?” Evas asked sarcastically.
Demtro grinned and pointed at Evas. “You’re not as dull as I thought! Nice one. Now go out there and kick some backsides. Show who’s running the show here. And root out those damned Tybar agents. I know what two look like, and so do you, by the sounds of things.”
“I’m not happy at the thought of arresting people who I don’t know for certain have done anything wrong,” the governor said hesitantly. “But I’ll do as the empress bids; I, too, am a loyal servant of her majesty. Please tell her that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll paint a glowing picture of you.” He got up and made for the door.
The governor called him as he got to it and Demtro turned round, an enquiring look on his face. “What are you going to do now, Demtro?”
“Go after the female porcine who had me tied up in her hideout. There can’t be too many places a young, dark, slim fantastic looking girl can go unnoticed in a city this size.”
“Always chasing women, Demtro. They’ll be the downfall of you one of these days.”
“With any luck, yes,” Demtro grinned and left.
Niake was turned into a disturbed insect nest over the next day or so. Soldiers went out in squads and called on addresses of known illegal loan organisations and dragged the protesting members off to the garrison prison. Posters went up in all public places warning of the danger to them posed by undercover spies in Niake. Accusations came flooding in of definite Tybar ‘agents’ from all over the city, and Evas was shocked to get so many. He had no idea his city had been so infested, or so it seemed. Protest groups and underground dissident movements who had up to now believed they were secret, found that this had been a false belief as soldiers kicked in doors and dragged people off, often during daylight hours. Citizens who witnessed these joined in the accusations that all those arrested were Tybar agents and pelted the prisoners with mud, stones and rotten vegetables. The soldiers had a hard time getting some into the safety of the compound and the garrison was put under a state of virtual siege by the angry mob. Evas was overwhelmed by public feeling on the matter. At last they had a visible target to vent their frustrations and anger and fears upon.
Amongst all of this they actually found a couple of Tybar agents. Evas made it a personal mission to inspect all those brought in for questioning and on the second day spotted the man Habnas, cowering in the line of miserable looking people. He pointed to the Tybar agent. “That one, definitely. Habnas, isn’t it?” he addressed the prisoner directly.
“Governor,” Habnas straightened and nodded, no longer cowering now that he’d been recognised. There was no more need for it. “I shall of course lodge a protest at this outrage.”
“Of course,” Evas agreed. “Where’s your bearded friend who cannot speak Kastanian?”
“I don’t know,” Habnas spread his hands helplessly.
“Get the truth out of him,” Evas said to the officer in charge of the garrison prison.
Habnas scowled and struggled as two strong men took hold of him. “We’ll be here soon enough,” he shouted at Evas’ back as the governor went to depart. “And when we do you’ll be sorry!”
“Silence, canine!” a guard cuffed the man around the head.
The prison was overflowing. People were crammed into the cells just to fit them all in. Niake wasn’t designed to cope with such numbers of felons. In the office upstairs Evas spoke to the garrison commander. “Get the names and addresses of all those connected with these protest groups and dissident organisations, and then ship them off to Turslenka. I don’t want them in Niake.”
“The mines? Certainly sir,” the commander saluted.
Evas left and was cheered by the crowd. He smiled and waved at them. “We have Tybar agents under arrest. Rest assured they will be dealt with. Some of those inside are not Tybar agents but enemies of the empire nonetheless and they will be sent to the mines of Turslenka. Your lives will be safer now as a result!”
The roar of approval went up from the crowd. It was an uplifting experience for Evas who, for the first time he could remember, was praised and cheered as he made his way down the corridor through the crowd, kept open by two lines of guards, to his equine. Mothers held their children up to see the man who had suddenly swooped on the enemies of the empire and taken them off the streets so that everyone’s lives could be made that much safer. Evas raised his arm once more which got more applause, then rode off with his escort of militiamen back to the governor’s residence.
Watching this from a window on the other side of the street was Demtro. He’d hired out this particular building as it was close to the garrison, and accordingly cheaper to rent, and it gave him a place to operate from some distance from both the city square and his business p
remises. He didn’t want to be seen by Evas from his office or be associated with any non-business activity. He wanted to keep his dual lives apart.
“The crowd is itching to get their hands on a Tybar spy,” he commented, turning to face the girl who he’d taken captive that very morning. Finding her had been a simple task, thanks to the efforts of Renet, who had tracked her down to an old neglected house in the poorer western district. A woman who had recently arrived, was young, dark and spoke with a foreign accent wasn’t that usual and people had been very helpful, especially when it was said she may be a Tybar spy, which in fact it was very likely she was. As it was, Renet and Demtro had only just been one step ahead of a personal lynching mob, alerted by street gossip. The woman had been ignominiously bundled into a hay wagon and trussed up like a fowl and carried off almost from under the baying crowd’s nose.
“Wonder what would happen to you if I handed you over to them?” Demtro addressed the bound and helpless woman.
The girl glared back at him, her dark eyes flashing furiously.
“What, nothing to say? You had plenty to say the other day to your – ah – late colleague in the other house where you had me bound and gagged.”
“You killed him, you animal!” she spat.
“What else could I do?” Demtro asked reasonably, “he had knocked me out and was likely to cut me up. I retaliated before he got his blow in first.”
“You joke about killing! You are heartless!”
“It has been said,” Demtro shrugged the accusation off. “I don’t really care if I’m heartless or not. My quandary is what do I do with you? If I’m heartless I’ll hand you over to that lot outside and watch and see how long it is before they tear you to pieces.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” she replied, “you need me for something, or you would not have done all this.”
“You’re right. But this leads to the problem I have, and that’s will you give me the information I need or not? I want to know the exact set-up you have here in Niake, and all other intelligence on Tybar plans for Bathenia. If you keep silent I’m afraid you have no value to me and I’ll drag you out there. You’re clearly not Kastanian and you’ll have – I’ll estimate – the time it takes to eat a cake before they bludgeon you to death.”
“If I talk they’ll kill me,” the woman said.
“Who, your friends? Not if you tell us where they are and we can get to them first. Then who will know who betrayed whom? You’ll be safe with me.”
“You’ll get what information you need and then you’ll kill me,” she objected.
“Rot. I’m not that type of person. You tell me everything and its proven, and I’ll arrange a safe place for you to go and live. Away from Tybar eyes. Zipria if you like, or Pelponia. I have the ear of the empress, Isbel.” He smiled reassuringly, then looked back out of the window. “But you’ve got to make your decision now.”
“You lie. You’re like all Kastanians, liars and weaklings, all of you!”
Demtro turned round, walked up to her and slapped her hard across the face. “Don’t confuse me with those idiots who ran this empire before the recent coup. I’m a determined fellow and will get what I want. Don’t confuse me either with the governor here. I’m more decisive than he is. I’ll count to five, then open this window and call that crowd over here. By the time they get here and see you, I’ll be gone. It won’t be a pretty sight so I won’t stay to witness it. I’ll call the guard but not until I’m certain they’ve ripped your head off.”
The woman struggled against her bindings. “You foul beast! You have no honour!”
“Whatever,” Demtro said indifferently and returned to the window. “One.” He unfastened the lock and tested the latch. It moved. “Two.”
“You’ll never find them all! One or two will escape!”
“Three.”
The girl gasped in desperation and her efforts succeeded in unbalancing the chair and she and it fell over together to lie helplessly on the floor.
Demtro made no effort to help her. “Four.” He jerked open the window. “Five.”
“I’ll tell you, you horrid bovine dung heap!”
Demtro shut the window and folded his arms. “’Horrid bovine dung heap’? That’s a new one. I’ll have to remember that. Now, talk.”
“Help me up first! I can’t think lying like this!”
The spy-merchant pushed himself away from the wall and strode over, pulling her up sharply and placing her once more upright. She spat in his face. Smiling, Demtro wiped it off slowly with his hand, then smeared it over her face. “As it’s yours, you can have it back.”
The girl began shaking. “There’s a man called Habnas.”
“We know about him,” Demtro nodded. “Go on.”
“He arranged for our entry into Niake. He’s a lawyer or diplomat or something. I don’t know. He introduced two priests to us…”
“Who is ‘us’?”
“The tribe of Musnat, we come first, it is our right by tribal law! We pave the way for our brother tribes. Once we are established in an enemy land we spread chaos, destroying crops, buildings, roads, animals. We destroy the ability of the enemy to resist.”
“And how many of you are there in Niake?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t!” she shrieked, seeing Demtro move towards the window. “There are five of us – or were five of us I should say – here. You killed one. Habnas is the leader. The two priests are the others.”
Demtro thought about what the woman had said. “And your name is?”
“Leiala. I am high born.”
“Means nothing to me, sweetheart,” Demtro replied indifferently. “It may mean a lot amongst your people, but to us you’re just another Tybar woman.”
“I demand you treat me with respect my status deserves!”
Demtro slapped her across the face. “That what you want? Carry on like that and you’ll get another.”
Leiala hung her head and sobbed. Demtro looked out of the window again. The crowd were still there and baying for blood. “I think the governor’s going to have to bow to public pressure and hang a Tybar or two. Want that to be you? We have Habnas, but I think the priests ought to be ours too, don’t you think? So talk, Leiala, in return for your life and a passage to the east, talk.”
So Leiala talked.
The new day was bright and fresh, and the soil smelled good. The avians sang and the sun shone brightly. The two riders crossed the damp countryside, tiny dots in the wide, empty expanse of Valchia. The woods and the village were far behind and ahead only the flat horizon existed, dotted here and there by growths of shrubs or tall reeds and grasses, showing that here the land was wet and marshes lay here and there.
Lalaas’ shoulder had settled down to a dull ache, and he was able at least to use it, although if he did too much it sent shafts of pain down his arm. Amne rode alongside, looking carefully to her left, ahead and sometimes behind, nervous about being seen. At Lalaas’ suggestion, she no longer washed, but allowed the accumulation of dirt to cloak her skin, giving her more of an appearance of a country girl than a princess. Also Lalaas remarked that morning that the outside life of the last few sevendays had tanned her skin and she no longer had the pale complexion of an indoor noblewoman. Amne had smiled faintly at that; partly she was pleased because it helped to disguise her, but partly she was upset because it now meant that when she arrived in Branak, and for that matter returned to Kastan, she would be looked down on. Pale skin was preferred by the upper classes as it was fashionable and showed they did not have to live outdoors working off the land. A tan was so common.
Their clothes were dirty and stained with water and their body salts. Amne felt terribly uncomfortable but Lalaas insisted they keep the same clothes on, no matter they smelt bad and looked as if they’d been mucking out bovines with them. It all helped to make them appear as people of the land, which is what most of those here were. They still had their change of clothes in the packs and these wou
ld be used once they got to Branak.
They also were taking a different path. As dawn had broken they had set off, heading south west instead of south east. The villagers would spread the word they were heading for Mazag, and all routes there would be watched, so Lalaas was taking them in a huge loop away from that route and around Bukrat. Instead of approaching that town from the north, they now would come upon it from the west.
Lalaas had a plan forming in his head. “We can hire a room in an inn and stay there a few days. We can rest and recover there, and find out when the next slave auction will be. I would guess they’re once a sevenday or once a season.”
“Won’t it be dangerous staying that long there?”
“Possibly; but we need the rest and to buy things. We’re running low on quite a bit and the equipment is falling apart. Bukrat may be in the middle of a wilderness but it’s a town and there’ll be leatherworkers, carpenters and food sellers there. And a blacksmith. These equines need new shoes.”
“So what should I do?”
“Play the part of my woman. That way nobody will look at you for a profit. I don’t want people taking undue interest in you, Amne. You may look like a landswoman, but the moment you talk its clear you’re educated and have had a good upbringing. Not good for the disguise.”
“Then teach me to talk – common.”
Lalaas grinned. “Common Kastanian or Bragalese? Or maybe Turslenkan? Turslenka has a different accent. We tend to roll our ‘r’s’ and have longer drawn out vowels. And we talk lazy; we drop the final letter in many words. Such as, ough’ a’ instead of ought to.”
“Oh, I see. Well I must try!”
“Right, or should I say, ri’.” He began talking, waiting for Amne to copy him, then go on. Then he’d go back to the previous word and ask her to repeat again, then without his prompting. They did this for most of the day, passing through the flat, devoid land. Sometimes they saw some wild animal scuttling away from their path, or an avian flying up above, but mostly they were to all appearances the only people there.