by Steven Brust
“Well?”
“I am not convinced that we can do it.”
Tazendra shrugged. “Well, and if we fail, what will happen? We will die, that is all.”
“That is true,” said Kytraan. “Your argument is a good one.”
“And then?” said Piro, who was, if truth be known, a little dubious about Tazendra’s proposition, but who did not want to lose the opportunity. “Besides,” he told himself, “more than likely there will be no ambuscade.”
“Very well,” said Tazendra. “I agree to following her tracks.”
“As do I,” said Kytraan.
“Then let us pack up and be about it,” said Piro.
We should add, in case the reader has not noticed, that there was one member of the party, by which we mean the worthy Teckla, Lar, who had not been consulted. But this, of course, was only to be expected.
Lar packed up the camp, thinking his own thoughts, and they set out to follow Grita’s tracks, as the hunted became the hunters, and the hunter, the hunted. As to whether this transition will occur one or more times again in the future, we do not, at this moment, choose to reveal.
Chapter the Thirty-Ninth
How Kâna Learned What Zerika
Had Been Doing, and Took Steps
On the other side of the continent—that is, in the Kanefthali Mountains—as these events were unfolding, certain other matters were occurring which cannot be ignored by the prudent historian. To be precise, Habil found her cousin—that is to say, Skinter, the Duke of Kâna, or the Emperor of Dragaera as he now styled himself—in the library, and at once said, “My dear cousin, there is a problem.”
Skinter looked up from the map he was studying—a map which detailed certain areas to the northeast of Suntra—and said, “Not in the least.”
Habil stopped, her mouth open. Whatever she had expected to hear, it was not this; and, whatever she had been about to say, she instead emerged with, “I beg your pardon?”
“I have said, my dear cousin, that you are wrong. We do not have a problem.”
“And yet, I am convinced—”
“Rather, we have many problems.”
“Ah! I comprehend.”
“Yes. In addition to whatever you are about to tell me, we have the matter of supplying our army that is only now extracting itself from the desert, and has nearly run out of fodder for its horses, not to mention hardtack for its personnel.”
“Very well,” said Habil. “What else?”
“Next, we have the matter of the Houses, who have failed to come along with us quite as readily as we had hoped they would. There are, to say the least, holdouts. To be more precise, we have three sorts of responses: those who have said they will not support us, those who have said they are considering the matter, and those who have given us no reply whatsoever.”
“I understand about the Houses,” said his cousin. “Next?”
“After that, there is the matter of transport. We cannot go to Adrilankha, for the simple reason that we have not secured it. And our ships that were intended to run between Hartre and Candletown are afraid of the reavers from Elde Island.”
“That is transportation. Is there more?”
“Nearly. There is discontent in the rear areas. Indeed, there have been murmurings of revolt from Brightstone, not a hundred leagues from where we stand.”
“I understand your concern about discontent, my dear cousin. Is there anything else?”
“There is. Do not forget intelligence. With our brave Yendi off on his mission, well, reports have been arriving less regularly, with fewer details, and they have been imprecise and unreliable, which means that, in addition to all of the other problems, we cannot be certain how bad they actually are, how best to address them, or what problems we do not yet actually know about.
“For this reason, my dear cousin, I insist that, rather than a problem, we have many problems. That understood, tell me about this new difficulty you have discovered.”
Habil sat down across from him and said, “Well, but before I do, let us discuss these other matters that occupy your mind.”
“Very well, if you wish, we will discuss them.”
“To begin, then, you have mentioned supply problems for the Third Imperial Army, as we have named it, under the command of Lady Suura. It is true that matters are serious, but I received a message from her yester-day, and she believes that, although it will not be easy, she will succeed in extricating herself from the desert, and it is well known that she intends next to cross the Pushta, where there is no shortage of grain, water, and even grass for the horses. In my opinion, and Suura’s, they will manage.”
“If you say so, then I believe you. What next?”
“Next, you spoke about the Great Houses. It is true that the response we have received is not all we would have wished for.”
“Feathers! That is true!”
“But neither is it as bad as you believe.”
“How, it is not?”
“No. Consider Casement, for example. She is a Yendi. Her ‘no’ can almost certainly be taken as a ‘yes,’ particularly since we know that her half-brother has been organizing against us, and there is no doubt that Casement quite hates her half-brother. And then there is the Dzurlord Sennya, who indicated that she thought little of us, but has failed to take any steps, and has even spoken in our favor among certain other Dzurlords. Röaanac is weak, and can be swayed easily. Mistyvale is ready to agree, requiring only confirmation from certain scryings and other arcane sources. Newell has not replied because he is fighting on our behalf within his House, and, in his opinion, nearly about to carry the day. Indeed, I think that soon the Lyorn, Ritsak, will be alone in opposing us. If so, he can be brought around. He has not sufficient strength to stand against us all.”
Kâna frowned, but did not otherwise respond.
“So much,” said Habil, “for the matter of the Houses. Now, as to transport, well, are we not building a navy? Do we not have the cooperation of the Orca in this endeavor? To be sure, their cooperation is not under the seal of the House, but it is none the less useful for that. It may take time, but I am convinced that we will soon be able to answer each of the reaver’s ships with two of our own, and then we will have transport.”
Kâna continued frowning, but didn’t speak, instead gesturing for his cousin to continue.
“As to Brightstone, well, so long as the murmurs remain murmurs, I am not worried. But, in any case, you have dispatched a brigade of Home Guard under Marchioness Wunra, have you not? That should be sufficient even if the reports be true. Which leaves the matter of intelligence. And as to that—”
“Yes,” said the Duke. “As to that?”
“Well, my dear cousin, I beg leave to submit that, were our intelligence in as poor condition as you contend, I would not have the information needed to bring to your awareness the problem to which I referred on entering your presence an hour ago.”
Kâna thought all of this over, then said, “Very well. Let us hear of this problem, then, and perhaps I will be able to address it as easily as you have addressed all of those I mentioned.”
“I should like nothing better,” said Habil.
“Tell me, then.”
Habil held up a scrap of parchment. “This has just arrived by the post from our clever Yendi.”
“Well, and?”
“Everything he mentioned before, that he feared, seems to be true.”
“Be specific, please.”
“I will do so. In fact, I will be more than specific, I will be precise.”
“Precision is good, my dear cousin.”
“Here it is, then: There is a Phoenix Heir.”
“Shards! Is he certain?”
“Listen: ‘I have confirmed beyond doubt the existence of a Phoenix Heir.’ ”
“Well, it seems he is certain.”
“So much so that I believe him.”
“Then I must as well. Well, what next?”
“Next,
it seems this Phoenix, whose name is Zerika, is daring nothing less than attempting to retrieve the Orb from the Halls of Judgment itself.”
“Bah! Is such a thing possible?”
“Galstan believes it must be, because the effort is being sponsored by Sethra Lavode.”
“Blood of the Horse! Her again!”
“I’m afraid so. Now, Galstan is not certain she will succeed—the attempt is fraught with peril. First, she must negotiate the Paths of the Dead, next she must convince the Gods to give her the Orb, and, last, she must leave the Halls of Judgment still living and still holding it. None of these are easy.”
“Well, that is good, at any rate. But if she were to succeed?”
“Yes, my dear cousin. That would be a problem. Indeed, so much so that I have brought it to your attention.”
“Well, but what is Galstan doing?”
“He is attempting to locate those who traveled with the Phoenix, in hopes of learning more of what has become of her mission.”
Kâna nodded. “And while he is doing that, we, for our part, must be prepared for the worst.”
“I agree,” said Habil. “And yet, how do we prepare?”
“In the simplest possible manner. We attempt to take the Orb ourselves.”
“How, take it?”
“Precisely.”
“Your pardon, my dear cousin. But how does one ‘take’ the Orb? And, moreover, how can we take it when we do not even know where it is?”
“The Orb, by itself, can do little; it requires someone to defend it. And so the answer to your first question is: with an army. And, my dear cousin, it so happens that we have one; and a tolerably formidable one at that.”
“Very well, then, I accept it that we have an army. But still we do not know where the Orb will be, if and when it appears.”
“We do not know where it will be, but we can be certain of its first destination.”
Habil frowned. “Dzur Mountain?”
“You have it exactly.”
“You may be right.”
“I am convinced I am. This Phoenix has no strength—that is, no army—otherwise, we should have heard of it. Where else can she go?”
“I accept it, then. She will attempt to reach Dzur Mountain. And so?”
“We at once gather our forces, and we march to Dzur Mountain to intercept the Orb.”
“With our army?”
“Yes. In fact, with two armies, because, I assure you, there is nothing more important than this.”
“And yet—”
“Well?”
“To get them in position will take months, will it not?”
“Certainly.”
“Do we have months to spare?”
“My dear cousin—”
“Yes?”
“You know as much as I do about Deathgate Falls and what lies beyond it. We cannot know how much time we have. We may have years, or it may already be too late.”
Habil considered this for some few moments, at the end of which time she said, “It is a plan fraught with peril. Consider that it involves declaring open hostility with the Enchantress, who has we know not what power. And consider that, if Zerika manages to retrieve the Orb, she will have all of the power of sorcery at her disposal.”
“That is true. There is, to be sure, one other choice.”
“How, another choice? And what is that?”
“To surrender at once.”
“Unthinkable!”
“I agree. And then?”
“There are no other choices?”
“None that I can see.”
“Well, my dear cousin, you are right. We must march to Dzur Mountain.”
“Yes. Dispatch a message at once to Suura, and another to—hmmm—who commands our armies to the southwest?”
“Tonchin.”
“Yes, Tonchin.”
“In the first place, Suura is to be replaced by Izak—”
“How, Izak?” said Habil. “And yet, it seems that he is rather young for such a post.”
“That is true. And so is Brawre.”
“Brawre? Who is Brawre? You cannot mean the young captain of cavalry who led the exploratory expedition to the south.”
“None other.”
“But, she is only a captain, and is now merely in command of a cavalry expedition under Tonchin.”
“No, she has now replaced him. Brawre will henceforth command our southwestern forces.”
“And yet, I fail to see—”
“Trust me, cousin,” said Kâna. “I will explain to your satisfaction in a moment.”
“Very well. Orders to Suura to give her command to Izak, and to Tonchin to give his command to Brawre. Will there also be orders to Izak and Brawre?”
Kâna nodded. “Draft orders for them both to rendezvous at Dzur Mountain with the intention of attacking it without delay. And, moreover—”
“Yes?
“Here are additional orders.”
Kâna explained the other orders to be given, which explanation we hope the reader will permit us to delay, for the sake of heightening the drama and the sense of surprise which we confidently expect the reader to feel when this matter is, in its proper time, revealed.
Habil, upon hearing these orders, bowed and said, “Very well, it will be done. And yet—”
“Well?”
“I do not yet understand why you wish to replace our experienced generals with inexperienced ones.”
“Do you not? Then I will explain in two words.”
“I am listening.”
“What goes with experience?”
“Age.”
“And what determines age?”
“Why, date of birth, what else?”
“So then, consider the date of birth of our experienced generals, and those I am replacing them with.”
“Why, I confess, I do not know their dates of birth.”
“Well, but you must know one thing about them: Those we are replacing were born before Adron’s Disaster. The younger ones were born after. And consider that this Phoenix might succeed.”
“Ah! Now I understand. Should the Orb return, we can no longer depend upon the loyalty of those who feel its effect.”
“That is exactly my thought, dear Habil. And do you agree?”
“Entirely.”
“Very good. Then do you see to those dispatches. And as for me—”
“Yes? What will you do?”
“I will take the post directly to Suura’s—that is to say, Izak’s—army, with only a small escort, so that, once there, I can take personal command both of the attack on Dzur Mountain and of the effort to locate the Orb. You will remain behind, and act to aid my efforts.”
“Very well, to this I agree. But what of our Yendi?”
“Let him know the plan so that he is able to second our efforts.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Then let us begin at once. There is no way to know when the Orb will suddenly appear, and it is vital that we reach Dzur Mountain before it does.”
“I will begin composing the messages at once. You will review them?”
“And sign them myself, yes.”
“That is good. It will take me an hour.”
“Until then.”
“Until then.”
And yet Habil, as she left her cousin’s presence, was already considering, not only the carrying out of her part of Kâna’s plan, but certain alternative ideas of her own. Whether any of these ideas had any effect on the unfolding of history we will see in due time.
Chapter the Fortieth
How Morrolan Learned What Kâna
Had Been Doing, and Took Steps
Now, at nearly the same time as this discussion was taking place, there was another conversation occurring which resonated with it in an interesting manner. That is, at just about the same time that Kâna was learning of Zerika, Morrolan was learning of Kâna. It happened in this way:
By this time, what could almost be co
nsidered a small village had grown up around the site of the ruined castle. Dwelling here were, in the first place, Morrolan, and the warlock, and Arra, and Teldra, along with the animals that the warlock kept with him. However, from there, Morrolan began to hire laborers from Nacine to help him go through the rubble, looking for any artifacts that might have survived the destruction of the castle. At first, he had two young Teckla lads helping him—just to scour the ground. He did, in fact, find several items of greater or lesser interest, including a surprising quantity of silver that had somehow escaped detection until that time. These laborers soon found it easier to construct temporary residences around the ruins than to return to Nacine.
But Morrolan soon realized that he could not do a thorough job without moving some of the larger stones, and so he hired a few larger and stronger and older Teckla to assist. Within a few days, these Teckla, as well, found it more convenient to bring makeshift tents with them and to simply sleep on the grounds, and so Morrolan hired a cook and had supplies brought in.
The mere fact that Morrolan was a Dragonlord—and a young Dragonlord at that—was sufficient to command for him most of what he needed from Nacine with no difficulty. The presence of the Easterners was, perhaps, not pleasing to the locals, but none of them had any intention of disputing Morrolan’s right to associate with whomever he chose, or do whatever he wanted; and so when he announced one day that the blocks of stone were to be put to use in the building of a temple to his patron Goddess, and that therefore he would require still more laborers (and that, moreover, he would continue to pay in good, hard silver for work that was done), this was greeted with little muttering and no small measure of cooperation.
We should add that the tales which have been told of Morrolan having found a temple, fully built and having survived the fall of the castle, have, in fact, a certain basis in fact: during the excavation of the region, portions of two walls had been found to be intact, and Morrolan, considering how strongly these were built, calculated to use these as the basis of the temple—that is, to rebuild, as closely as possible, the chamber as it had once been. There are various theories as to what the original chamber had been: ranging from a dungeon, because of the nature of its construction, which suggested a lower or basement area; to a banquet hall, because of its size, and moreover, because the castles of many Dragonlords of the period had large banquet halls on the upper stories, and, for reasons which ought to be obvious, a chamber on an upper story was more likely to survive a fall. This latter theory is the one to which the author subscribes, but it must be insisted upon that there is no conclusive evidence.