"The war against the monks will begin in earnest within days," he said at last. "I will go east tomorrow or the day after. Last night I dreamed that I will not return."
"Then you must register our marriage immediately and give me a son before I am taken to Pamplyea. You cannot let your lineage die with you."
Then, for just the merest of heartbeats, she saw that he was tempted. Realizing that she must do something to make him believe her, commit some grand gesture that would convince him of her honesty, she took a step back, sank with slow deliberation to her knees, and showed him the open palm of her right hand.
"Cut me."
At first, she thought that he would refuse, but after a tense moment he drew his sword with slow determination and held the blade vertical, a fingerlength from her skin. Without hesitation, she let her palm fall against the nicked but recently sharpened edge.
The pain was severe enough to make her gasp and the blood profuse enough to trickle in warm tendrils down her wrist and forearm.
As he sheathed his sword, she breathed the words in a rush of abandoned aspirations. "With steel and blood, bound into the earth, I pledge my life to Mar, magician and emperor, and name him my king!"
She felt no different with this deed done, experienced no twinge or discomfort to show that the magic had been cast, but Ghorn reacted immediately, pressing his own palm against the cut to staunch the blood and raising her back to her feet with a smooth, strong pull of his arms.
"You will have your marriage," he told her, "and your child."
FORTY-ONE
Last Awakening
(Sixthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)
On the Imperial road leading to the West High Gate of Khalar
Fatigue compelled Llylquaendt to stop to rest on the edge of a multi-acre apple orchard within sight of the gates of Khalar. The mid-morning sun seemed awfully hot for this early in the year.
"The climate here -- your word would be skould'shg I think -- is much warmer than on the other side of the mountains," he told the five women as he sank to sit on a large stone that had tumbled from the roadside wall. The shade of the upper limbs of the nearest tree covered the stone and provided some relief from a sun that seemed to burn with the heat of summer. Unaccountably, he soon found himself shivering. "It might have something to do with the altitude difference."
"You are pushing yourself too hard, husband," Myleu scolded as she filled a cup from her canteen and offered it to him.
"I have walked all the way around this world more than once," he grumbled, breathing hoarsely. "I can walk another thousand paces."
"You will have a sit by a fire and something to eat," she ruled, making a sign with her hand at the other women.
Beasl and Kylii immediately began gathering deadwood for the fire while Mryeen and Plri dropped their packs and took out supplies and pots for a full meal.
Llylquaendt sighed. The five pregnant women could out-walk, out-work, and no doubt out-fight him.
"I guess I could take a bit of tea," he allowed.
He wound up eating a large bowl of stew and some of the bread that he had bought at a farm the day before. After that, wrapped in Beasl's and Kylii's warm embrace, he fell into a doze for a bit. When he roused, he felt somewhat revived and bade the two women let him stand.
"We should go on, now," he told the five. "In the city, we'll get rooms at a tavern or inn. It will be good to get out of the weather and to sleep in a proper bed."
"Very well, husband," Myleu allowed. "But you will tell me right away if you feel tired again."
They encountered a few travelers as they neared the gates, most of whom gave them a wide berth. Llylquaendt and the women were dressed in traditional Gheddessii costume, including jhuhngt'n, and he had noticed hostile glances from some of the field workers that they had passed since reaching the Ice River valley. A few of the Gheddessii traders that he had done business with had made mention of the fact that the Imperials were not fond of the tribal people, but Llylquaendt had passed that off as simply the animosity generated by hard trading.
Within a hundred paces of the city gate, a horse-mounted party of a merchant factor and his two guards overtook them on the highway. The party broke into a trot to pass and as they went by, Llylquaendt saw a look of outright contempt on the face the factor and one of unconcealed lascivious interest directed at Myleu on that of one of the guards. After the horsemen had moved on, he began to grow anxious that an old man and five women might be deemed weak, and thus would be vulnerable to harassment or outright attack.
All of the women had several knives, both the openly displayed armlength long curved blades that the tribes called bhyah'ts or for killing, and hidden smaller ones for throwing and daily chores.
"Myleu," he said after some thought. "We will take no chances in the city. I want everyone to stay on their guard, just as if we were still in the mountains."
The statuesque woman gave him a curious look and pointedly drew her bhyah'ts half way out of its scabbard. "How else would it be, husband?"
"Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Silly of me to think that you would have any reason to believe that civilization meant, well, civilized people."
Myleu nodded as she normally did when was being the faithful Gheddessii wife and the things that he said made no sense.
A squat, red brick gatehouse pierced the city's earthen rampart. The tall, steel reinforced wooden gates stood open, but there were eight armsmen standing guard who openly examined each and every person entering or exiting. The factor and his guards were stopped and briefly questioned before being waved through.
Llylquaendt immediately noticed that these guards showed a greater variety in complexion and hair color that the Khalarii that he had seen thus far. When he got close enough to hear them speak, it was obvious that some spoke in the same cosmopolitan accents as had Eishtren, Aelwyrd, Ulor, and the ubermen.
For the sake of caution, he stopped when he came abreast of the guards.
"Good day to you, sir," he said to the one that seemed to be in charge.
Before he could continue, the armsman pointed to a badge on the cuff of his mail shirt. "Not a 'sir.' I'm just a ceannaire. Abaegwyrd's the name."
Llylquaendt was not sure that he understood the rank, but took it to be something like a sergeant. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Llylquaendt. Is it necessary to obtain permission to enter the city?"
The Mhajhkaeirii, tall and dark of hair and skin, shook his head. "Now that the rebellion's been put down and the riots are done, the city's open. We've orders to watch for any of the Korhthenr mercenaries that try to get out into the countryside in disguise, but everyone else is free to come and go."
Llylquaendt raised his eyebrows. "Rebellion?"
"I guess you wouldn't know, coming from the Waste. It was Patriarch Hwraldek, if the name means anything to you." Abaegwyrd grinned savagely. "It lasted just a day before the King put an end to it. Hwraldek's hanging from the obelisk in the Plaza of the Empire."
Llylquaendt replied with a non-committal, "Ah."
He did not know who this Patriarch Hwraldek was, but it was clear that he had made a fatal mistake in challenging the power of the King of the Mhajhkaeirii. In any event, this executed unfortunate had inadvertently done Llylquaendt a favor by causing Mar to come to Khalar, thus saving the medic a long journey to the southern shore.
"You know, you've a funny accent, but you speak the best Imperial Standard of any Gheddessii that I've ever heard. You're from the tribes on the other side of the Mheckels?"
For the sake of simplicity, Llylquaendt just nodded his head.
Abaegwyrd looked around at the Gheddessii females. "These your daughters?"
Frowning heavily, Llylquaendt corrected, "Wives."
Looking openly impressed, the ceannaire chuckled. "You're a better man than me, Llylquaendt. I just hope that I've got enough vigor to keep up with one wife when I'm your age."
Llylquaendt tiled h
is head and shrugged slightly as if to say that his situation was not great accomplishment.
"I suppose that I had better ask your business in Khalar, just in case something comes up," Abaegwyrd mentioned.
"I have to speak to a man about trading for some horses," Llylquaendt said.
He had already decided that to say that he had come to speak to the king would simply raise suspicion and its attendant difficulties. With Mar currently in the city, it should only be necessary to get near enough so that the king would recognize him. If that were not possible, then he would have to try to communicate a message through the Mhajhkaeirii bureaucracy, if there was such a thing.
"Well, good luck in your trading."
Llylquaendt thanked the man and then he and the five women forged on into the small plaza beyond. There were a number of Khalarii about, most standing in nervous clumps and talking earnestly, but none gave the six of them more than a passing glance.
At the opposite end of the plaza, a wide, winding street led off in a general easterly direction. Llylquaendt stopped here, suddenly realizing that he absolutely nothing about the layout of Khalar.
"I doubt that it would be wise to ask directions to the King's residence, considering the current state of affairs," he said in Gheddessii, mostly just speaking his thoughts aloud.
"We should find some of the traders of the people," Myleu said. "They will know where we should go."
As Llylquaendt was about to give his ascent to this plan, the man that he had come to see stepped abruptly in front of Myleu, appearing apparently from nowhere. Instantly, all the women drew their bhyah'ts and closed tightly about Llylquaendt.
"Do not attack him," he warned his wives in Gheddessii. "This is Mar. He is magenfolk and very powerful."
None of the women relaxed and he had to chivy Myleu and Beasl aside to allow him to step forward to greet Mar. Oddly, the magician looked more worn and perhaps some older than when Llylquaendt had seen him last. Also, he had not had this brooding look that now seemed to have sculpted permanent lines into his face.
Something else struck Llylquaendt as different about Mar, but the thought wandered away before he could latch onto it.
"Forgive them," he told the magician in Imperial Standard. "They dote upon me."
Mar did not smile. "I see that you've been earnest in your duty. They will give you three sons and two daughters."
Llylquaendt felt considerable surprise. Even his portable kit had not been able to tell him that.
"Thank you for the information, good magician. I take it that you stepped from out a glamour?"
"Yes," Mar replied in a curt tone that Llylquaendt took to mean that the magician would offer no further clarification.
"You seem older than I remember. My original impression was that you were quite young. Is that gray I see in your hair?"
"I've seen difficult times."
"Perhaps it's just my faulty memory. I'm happy that you have come to meet us, for it's saved me many steps, I'm sure, but how is it that you knew we had come? Did the guards at the gate inform you by some magical means? Perhaps a comm? You might call the device a telecommunicator?"
The magician's cheek twitched minutely. "No, the monks have those, but we don't. I saw your arrival through the ether. Since you've seen me last, I've learned new magics."
"Ah, well and good, I suppose."
Llylquaendt lost his train of thought for a moment as his eyes drifted over a young child peering at them from under a set of wooden stairs leading up to the second storey of a tenement across the way. The child had wide green eyes and wore a faded dress but seemed healthy and well fed. It took him a moment or two to gather his focus, but Mar only waited.
"Oh, I beg your pardon. My mind wanders these days. I had to come warn you about your bowman, Eishtren. You mustn't let him break his bow. The Gheddessii seers have foreseen a great disaster if this occurs. Also, you mustn't trust your n'loomq, your spirit guide. The Seer did not name this person, but I would imagine that he or she is someone you perceive as a mentor or tutor."
The magician looked unmoved. "Thank you, Llylquaendt, I'll do what I can."
Having come so far at no mean expense to his own health and time, both quantities of which he had an exceptionally limited supply, Llylquaendt felt a moment of pique at the magician's lack of urgency, but exercised some of the wisdom that he had garnered in a century of existence and let it pass. It had seemed eminently right and necessary to warn Mar, but it was beyond Llylquaendt's power to see that the warning was followed.
"Is there any chance that you might have need of a medic? I've sojourned with the descendents of my city and, as you said, done my duty to them. I'd like to see a bit of Khalar and perhaps Mhajhkaei before I return."
"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to decline your offer. The war has restarted in the east. Neither Khalar nor Mhajhkaei will be safe and you are too valuable to the Gheddessii for me to place you in danger."
Llylquaendt had not expected this rebuff, but he took it in stride. "We'll not tarry here then. I've no desire to see more war. After I've rested a day or so, we'll return to the tribe."
"I'd recommend that you go out today and camp beyond the walls. There are some rebel adherents still about."
This was clearly an order. "I suppose that you're right. That would be safer."
Mar nodded and then looked, unaccountably, sad. "I've thought about it a great deal, Llylquaendt, but I've found no way around it. I'm afraid that I have to repay the kindnesses that you have done me with a curse. You must have a very long life."
The magician waved his hands in an obviously arcane gesture and Llylquaendt felt an ethereal shock course through him, one that he had not experienced in a great long time but one that was immediately familiar to him.
"That was a medical spell!" he gasped out. "What have you done to me?"
He fumbled in the pouch at his waist, drew out his kit, and turned the sensor on himself.
"I've removed seventy years from your age," Mar replied in a severe tone, "and reduced the rate at which age will attack your body. The normal lifespan that you have ahead of you is now very long. As a sudden transition would've killed you, I've caused the strengthening to take place over a few days."
Llylquaendt read the ethereal vibrations of his kit and saw that indeed changes had been made to his body on a cellular level.
"That's amazing!" he burst out, aghast. "There were only a handful of highly skilled physicians who would even dare attempt that sort of spell even in my own time!"
The magician's brooding deepened. "As I said, I have learned new magics."
"But ... why? Why me?"
Mar gestured at the intent and glowering Gheddessii women. "So that you will see your children born and have many more. The Gheddessii will become a people of great magicians because of you."
"What is wrong, husband?" Myleu demanded in her own tongue, eyeing Mar with suspicion.
Llylquaendt shook his head, partially to clear it of his own confusion, and told her, "Nothing is wrong. The magician has given me... a blessing, I suppose I should call it."
He looked back at Mar. "I don't think I understand."
The magician's sadness deepened. "You will. I'm sorry, but I have to leave you now. Good luck, Llylquaendt."
Mar took a step to his right and vanished.
Disturbed and pondering the odd meeting, Llylquaendt told Myleu, "I've finished my business here. We're going back."
"Back home?"
"Oh, yes, back home."
In the small plaza, it came to him why Mar had seemed different. "Myleu, in the Waste, did Mar have two hands and two legs?"
"No, husband."
"He has been playing with time, I think."
Though she clearly did not comprehend his meaning, she did not comment.
At the gate, Ceannaire Abaegwyrd looked surprised. "That was a quick deal."
"I spoke with the man that I had come to see," Llylquaendt replied. "There was
a misunderstanding. He's buying horses, not selling."
"Oh, tough break."
About an hour up the highway, a sudden burst of unfamiliar energy made Llylquaendt lengthen his stride and he realized that he felt better than he had in years.
Then, to his utter surprise, he caught himself admiring the way Myleu's backside swayed as she walked ahead of him.
It had been at least two score years since he had last appreciated the feminine figure in such an interested way.
FORTY-TWO
17th Year of the Phaelle’n Ascension, 345th Day of Glorious Work
Year One of the New Age of Magic
(Seventhday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)
Assembly field before the Plythtwaelndt Fortress, north of Mhevyr
Whorlyr heard the first covey of Shrikes pass overhead and raised his head and shoulders through the observation hatch. For a few seconds, he looked with pride upon the host of the Brotherhood.
Currently shrouded with the long shadows cast from the walls of the fortress by the rising sun behind, the algars, as he had taken to calling them, were, one thousand strong, lined up in precise rows of fifty, each fully manned and supplied. The cargo carriers for each drove were embedded within the formation and the ground crews had all retired back through the gates. A league to the southwest down a broad, hard-packed gravel road was the Imperial Highway, the artery that would see him race across the entire continent within a fortnight.
When the moving sunlight gleamed off the algars of the first rank, he called down an order to Brother Zsii to send the signal to advance and his creation began to shift into column and trundle down the road in near silence.
Whorlyr's conquest of the world had begun.
FORTY-THREE
The 1645th year of the Glorious Empire of the North
(Seventhday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)
Plaza of the Empire, Khalar
A file of Mhajhkaeirii marines under the command of a subaltern with a face like a hatchet had come to his home to snarl that the Emperor required his presence and Erskh had practically run all the way to the Plaza of the Empire.
Warrior (The Key to Magic) Page 21