Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha)

by Steven Brust

  “Here, then: simply look. Come, have you seen a finer animal in your life?”

  “No, no, can’t you see that His Lordship is tall? Why, on that little pony his feet will drag.”

  “No no, milord, do not even consider Juno’s walking glue-factory; why, she is barely suitable for pulling a trap! Here, look at my good friend Dan. Such shoulders …”

  “Too young.” “Too old.” “No speed.” “No endurance. “Untrained.” And so on, and so on.

  The argument became heated and moved to jostling and pushing as well as raised voices. A few blows were exchanged, and some of the participants began looking for sticks to re-inforce some subtle aspect of an argument that was insufficiently clear. At this point, one of the more reasonable individuals, in fact an elder of the village, and one who had no horse to offer in any case (knowing full well that his own elderly mare had most of the faults the others were accused of), suggested a race, the winner to have the honor of giving His Lordship the horse. This was greeted with great approbation, and would have been carried by acclaim except that Morrolan was obliged to observe that a horse which had just completed a race would hardly be suitable for bearing him to his destination with the alacrity that, he must insist, he absolutely required.

  In the end, four horses were put forward, and lots were drawn, and in this way a horse was selected (a dappled three-year-old Nemeslelklú stallion named Huzay), saddled, and, after considerable argument, its owner, a wealthy freeholder named Peitro, agreed to accept a piece of gold, with which he promised to buy drinks for the entire town and spend the rest on offerings to the Demon Goddess.

  Morrolan mounted upon the horse, who was, to be sure, rather jittery, and not used to carrying a rider of Morrolan’s size, but Morrolan spoke softly into his ear, patted his neck, and displayed that gentle firmness so salutary in gaining the enthusiastic cooperation of horses and servants, and the animal settled down quickly. With a wave of his hand and a flash of his cloak, he turned the horse’s head northeastward and set off at a gallop, which, by the time he was outside of Blackchapel, had become a run.

  He had not been misled: where there were roads, they were good, and where there were no roads, it was because none were needed. He stayed within half a mile of the shore of the Thundering Lake, its song constantly in his ears. As night fell, he used the simplest of sorceries to create around himself a moving sphere of luminescence, which upset the horse considerably for some moments until he became used to it, after which he was willing to continue.

  Morrolan stopped twice to rest his legs (which had become slightly cramped in the high stirrups) and the horse, but neither stop was long. During one of them, Morrolan stared out into the lake and said, “Goddess? Are you with me? I will say now that all I do is for you, and all of these deaths—for I promise, there will be many—will be dedicated to you.” As he stood in the dark and the stillness, he imagined he felt a soothing touch on his brow, and, whether he had been graced by Verra or not, he believed that he had been. He opened his eyes, remounted his horse, cast his light-spell again, and set off.

  Morrolan had the rider’s instinct—that is, he knew just how much he could push the animal so as to gain every bit of speed without killing it. This, and the fact that the horse really was of the first quality, brought him, by the first light of morning, to the first of the four villages of which he had been told, which he recognized by the row of sycamore trees, leaves hissing in the light breeze.

  He drew rein and patted his horse’s neck. “Well done,” he told it. “I am informed that dawn is a good time to launch an attack. So, then, let us be about it.”

  BOOK SIX

  In Which Our History

  Is Brought to a Satisfying

  And Elegant Conclusion

  Chapter the Eighty-Sixth

  How Some Feel Apprehensive

  Before the Battle

  While Others Feel Apprehensive

  After It Has Begun

  Some five miles west of the city on Lower Kieron Road, there is a place called Barlen’s Pavilion, where the road was widened to permit carriages to turn around and where, moreover, there is a park, with, as the name implies, a pavilion over a portion of it. In this place, under the pavilion, before the first hour of morning had quite run its course, the Duke of Kâna, mounted upon a fine grey gelding and surrounded by some number of his staff officers, as well as, we might add, his entire army, turned to his cousin and said, “Is all in readiness?”

  It was as good a day for a battle as anyone could wish: a strong wind blowing in from the sea gave all the banners a snap, and might present some problem for those whose duty included the throwing of javelins, and there was, perhaps, a very slight chill in the air, but it promised to warm up later (and, as one of the waiting infantryman remarked to his friend, it would become tolerably hot before it cooled down). The Enclouding was high up, and of a faint orange tinge with little red; skies of this color being considered a good omen for sailors. The smell of the sea was strong and invigorating, and even the horses of Kâna’s staff officers and errand riders seemed fully alive and anxious for the day’s festivities to begin.

  Habil, who was mounted upon a horse very similar to her cousin’s, said, “Your Majesty, it is now six times that you have asked me this question.”

  “Well, and then?”

  “It is only that I might nearly begin to believe that you are unnerved.”

  “I, unnerved?”

  “I could almost believe it.”

  “Not in the least.”

  “If you insist that you are not.”

  “My dear cousin, you know very well that, when the time comes for action, I shall be cool enough. It is these moments of waiting. I mislike waiting.”

  “You always have.”

  “That is true.”

  “Well, I comprehend.”

  “Moreover, since we have learned that there are unexpected defenses upon both of the roads we mean to use for the attack, so that we have had to change the timing of our attack, well, I think I have some reason for concern.”

  “Ah, we had not anticipated that we would be able to keep our army concealed for the entire distance and into the city itself.”

  “No, that is true. But our scouts have spoken of fortifications, which causes me to wonder how much warning the enemy have had.”

  “Well, and if they had considerable warning? If they have had days to prepare? What then?”

  “Then they may have found ways to counter our advantages. We both know that, with their sorcery, their necromancy, and their use of the heathen arts, we cannot defeat them with pure military force—even though we outnumber them.”

  “Believe me, cousin; you tell me nothing of which I am unaware. But—”

  “Well?”

  “What ways could they have found?”

  “I can think of nothing.”

  “Nor can I.”

  “Nevertheless, you may understand why I may appear, as you put it, unnerved at this moment.”

  “The time for action is near at hand, my good cousin, and, as you say, when it arrives at last you will be perfectly sound. We but await the final report of the scouts, and there will be no reason why you should give the command to advance.”

  “What of our Athyra?”

  “He is ready.”

  “And Tsanaali’s band, within the city?”

  “We have exchanged signals, and they are anxious for the right moment to arrive.”

  “I hope so. You perceive, everything else is merely a feint for that attack.”

  “I am aware of this, my cousin.”

  “If it should fail—”

  “There is no reason for it to fail. Tsanaali is ideally suited for such ventures, and has time to train his forces. And, you observe, they have been safely within the city for weeks now, and no one the wiser.”

  “But consider the complexities of the timing. The ground attack, the sea attack, our necromancy, the response to our necromancy—now the
re is an area of some concern.”

  “How so? Have we not the assurance of the god?”

  “Well, but may we rely upon a god?”

  “I believe so.”

  “And, not only that, but consider that we are opening the door to dangerous forces.”

  “And we can close the door.”

  “Well, that is true.”

  “So, then.”

  “What of the Islanders?”

  “They are just over the horizon. We have received word from them by means of signal-boats that indicate that they shall not have to row; the wind is serving most admirably for them—do you not perceive that there is a strong wind even now blowing from the southeast, or even a trifle south? It could not have fallen out better. Perhaps the Tri’nagore has had a hand in setting the wind for us; you know that this is within his powers.”

  “It is good if they do not have to row; they will be here sooner, and in better condition to fight.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then all is in readiness?”

  “That is now seven times.”

  “Well, but you perceive, you did not answer the last time.”

  “That is true.”

  “So, then?”

  “Yes, all is in readiness. For my part—”

  “Well?”

  “I should long to see the faces of our enemies when they learn that all of their sorcery, and necromancy, and their strange magics, are of no effect.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then you are satisfied?”

  “Nearly. I must admit that up until now, we have had matters our own way. If it continues thus for only a few more hours, why, we shall have won.”

  “Indeed, everything has gone perfectly. And, moreover, you have made a name for yourself in military history.”

  “You think so?”

  “I am convinced of it. Consider what you have done, cousin: An army of more than twenty thousands of troops, assembled by tens and twenties to a spot within four days’ march of its target, supplied, equipped, and fed, and all without detection by the enemy. Such a thing has never been done.”

  “There was some divine help in that.”

  “And if there was? Does that make it any less remarkable?”

  “I admit, Habil, that this part of the plan did proceed without a flaw.”

  “It is a triumph.”

  “I beg to disagree.”

  “How, you think it was not?”

  “Certainly it was not, because we have not yet won. If we win, then, perhaps, you may use such words as ‘triumph.’ ”

  “I take your point. But will you accept that it was a magnificent feat?”

  “Do you positively insist upon it?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I will accept it.”

  At this moment, Izak rode up next to them and said, “Your Majesty, I beg leave to report.”

  “Well, General?”

  “The last two scouts have returned, and nothing is changed. There are fortifications, and, indeed, troops drawn up, but they are not advancing.”

  “Numbers?”

  “On this road, perhaps five thousands. No cavalry. A like number on the Hartre Pike. We have not been able to make a determination about their reserves.”

  “As to that,” said Kâna, “I know from my spies in the city. There is park near the canal where there are some ten thousands of the enemy waiting.”

  “As many in reserve as they have on the roads?”

  “So it seems.”

  Izak shrugged. “Very well. What of the harbor?”

  “Only a few scattered soldiers, less than a hundred. It is possible they are not even stationed there, but merely walking along the pier looking for the sorts of entertainments a soldier can often find in such districts.”

  “Good. What are we facing first along this road?”

  “Three spear phalanxes.”

  “And along the Pike?”

  “The same.”

  “Well, the enemy is consistent, at least. Do we know who is in charge of the enemy defenses?”

  “We do not, Majesty. We can be certain it is not Khaavren, however.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Why, you know very well that he has resigned the Imperial service.”

  Kâna and Habil exchanged a glance and a smile. “Ah yes, that is true,” said Kâna.

  “So, then, orders?”

  “On both roads, begin the attack with a unit of light cavalry, and two of lancers. Once they are well engaged, bring up two more units of cavalry to flank them, on both sides. Once the cavalry is engaged, you may order the javelin throwers to attack, after which the infantry may charge. Is all of this clear?”

  “You will judge, Majesty: light cavalry, two lancers. Then two more cavalry, javelins, then infantry.”

  “That is it.”

  “I understand, Your Majesty, but—”

  “Yes?”

  “Suppose that, when we reach them, they have changed dispositions?”

  “In that case, General, you are to alter your own dispositions as you think best.”

  “Very good.”

  “Have a messenger sent to Brawre with these same orders.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “And, of course, do not advance until you receive orders from me.”

  “I will await your word.”

  Kâna nodded, took a deep breath, and said, “Signal the Islanders to launch their attack.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. And, if I may make an observation?”

  “Yes, what is it, Izak?”

  “For my part, I want nothing more than to atone for my failure in the last battle.”

  “Well, General, you will have your chance, and I trust you will make the most of it.”

  “Yes Your Majesty. I will now order the the signal given.”

  “Good. And I am to be informed the instant the ships are over the horizon.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  Izak rode off, Kâna anxiously following him with his eyes. He then began pacing, his hands behind his back, and twice more asked his cousin if all was in readiness. He seemed about to ask a third time, when Habil remarked, “I have been thinking about something, cousin.”

  “What is that, Habil?”

  “You should consider marriage.”

  “How, marriage?”

  “Certainly. It is always a good thing for the Emperor to have an heir.”

  “Well, but, whom shall I marry?”

  “I would recommend a Dragonlord, Sire.”

  “Well, yes, but you perceive, there are many Dragonlords.”

  “Then I should recommend one who is presently unmarried. That way, you perceive, she will not have to become a widow before becoming Consort.”

  “You must understand that this still leaves a good number to choose from.”

  “Well, is it not good to have a large number out of which to make a choice? It increases the likelihood of finding one who is suitable.”

  “On the contrary, cousin. It makes it more difficult.”

  “How, you think so?”

  “Certainly. If there were only one, why, the decision would be the easiest thing in the world. But with so many I hardly know where to begin looking.”

  “If you like, I will attempt to select one for you.”

  “If I must marry—”

  “I believe it would be a good idea, Your Majesty.”

  “Then you select someone.”

  “Very well, if you are certain you have no one in mind.”

  “I have no one in mind. In fact—”

  “Well?”

  “In fact, if truth be told, I have no interest in marriage at this time.”

  “Nevertheless, it would be a good idea.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt that, only—”

  “Yes?”

  “Why are you bringing it up now?”

  “Why am I bringing it up now? Why, in order to distract you, of course.”

&nb
sp; “You believe I require distraction?”

  “It is possible. And even if you don’t—”

  “Well?”

  “I require you to be distracted, otherwise, I fear I may commit regicide.”

  “My dear cousin—”

  At this moment, a messenger rode up to them, and said, “Your Majesty, I beg to report that the boats are on the horizon.”

  “In that case,” observed Kâna, “if I am correct about this wind, they should reach the harbor in a little less than an hour.”

  “Well?” said Habil.

  Kâna dismissed the errand runner and summoned a young subaltern who served on his staff. This subaltern, a Dragonlord of good standing, brought her horse up to His Majesty by careful movements of her knees and gestures with her reins until she was quite close, at which time she made a graceful bow from the back of her horse.

  “Yes, Majesty?” she said.

  “My compliments to General Brawre, and he may advance and engage. After delivering this message—after delivering this message, you will find Izak and give him the same orders. And then, after this message is delivered, you will present my compliments to the Baron of Loraan, and tell him he may begin. Then the signal sorcerer is to communicate with Lieutenant Tsanaali, telling him that he may commence his operation. Do you understand?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Let us see, then.”

  “Brawre first: compliments, attack and engage, and then the same to Izak after Brawre has received his orders, then Loraan is to begin. Then message to Tsanaali, he may commence.”

  “That is it.”

  The subaltern saluted and rode off.

  “Cousin—?”

  “Yes, Habil?”

  “You are right.”

  “Well?”

  “You are noticeably cooler now.”

  “After all of these years and all of these campaigns, did you doubt me?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “This one is, perhaps, larger than any of the others, and for grander stakes—that is, we are now staking everything on a single throw. Nevertheless, it is another campaign, another battle, that is all.”

  “That is well, and I agree with everything you have done me the honor to tell me.”

  After a moment, Habil sighed. Kâna said, “Well? Why do you sigh?”

  “I have been thinking.”