The prisoners were brought to a halt and shepherded into a line. Dunarth dithered her way up and down the row, thinking aloud. “I don’t want anyone too small, if they’re to—” She broke off in front of a granite-faced man who towered head and shoulders over her. “No, no. I think I’ll keep you for...um, maybe...” Her attention shifted to the woman chained beside him.
Dunarth was of middling height and years. Grey was softening her honey blonde hair. Her body tended to plumpness. Her face was round and bland. She looked and sounded like a housewife selecting carrots for the evening meal. And clearly, Dunarth was taking no more sadistic pleasure in her current task than a housewife dropping chopped vegetables into the pot, nor suffering from any greater guilt.
Tevi fought to keep her expression impassive. In her mind, the absence of malice made it worse. Dunarth could not see the prisoners as fellow humans or feel empathy for their plight. Admittedly, it was possible that this current experiment would not be fatal. It might even be harmless, designed to improve the performance of Bykoda’s troops, rather then kill her enemies, but there would always be the next test. Before long, all the prisoners would be dead, and they knew it.
At the end of the line nearest Tevi was a young man, scarcely more than a boy, sixteen or seventeen, she judged. His eyes met hers, pleading in wordless terror. Tears trickled down his face. Tevi clenched her teeth, feeling responsible for the role she had played in his capture. What was he guilty of, other than being in the wrong platoon? He could not have defied the renegade lieutenant and lived. Yet Tevi also knew that she had no real choice herself. Judging by the string of sacked villages the renegade lieutenant had left behind, her plans had involved creating a bandit gang on the outskirts of the Empire. Tevi remembered the burnt-out farms and dead families she had seen while they pursued the deserters.
And regardless of justice, there was nothing Tevi could do. She turned away sharply and marched on. Strictly speaking, she had not been dismissed, but she doubted that Commander Ranenok would call her to account, and she could not bear to stand and see which prisoner Dunarth would pick.
The road up the hill reached the last of the three gatehouses. Beyond it lay the inner bailey where Bykoda’s keep was sited. Also in this section of the castle were the quarters for her six acolytes and other favoured individuals such as Jemeryl. Thralls guarded the entrance. Few were allowed inside. As Tevi approached, an officer appeared and held up a hand for her to stop.
“What is your business?” The man’s tone was curt and contemptuous.
“I’m here to see the sorcerer Jemeryl.”
“Has she asked for you?”
“No. She doesn’t know I’ve returned to Tirakhalod yet.”
“Wait here. I will send a messenger to find out if she wishes you to be granted entrance.”
“I think you’ll find—” Tevi bit off her words with a sigh of irritation.
Arguing was pointless. She could do no more than glare at the officer as he went through the charade of dispatching a thrall with the written message. She did not recognise the man but had no doubt that he recognised her. Her notoriety as an ungifted officer and a sorcerer’s lover would ensure that.
Jemeryl would want to see her as quickly as possible, and the officer would know it. However, his tabard bore only a lieutenant’s badge and that, Tevi judged, was the cause for his confrontational behaviour. So many witches took it as a personal insult to be outranked by someone ungifted like herself. He was clearly one of them, and he was going to make the most of his post as gatekeeper to put her in her place.
Footsteps sounded behind Tevi. Before she could turn her head to see whose, Ranenok’s voice rang out. “What’s the holdup here?”
The lieutenant snapped to attention. “Sir. I’ve sent a message to Madam Jemeryl to inform her that Captain Tevirik is here.”
“Why not send the captain straight through?”
“Sir, my instructions are that—”
Ranenok cut him off. “Don’t bother about that. You should have the sense to use your own discretion. Let her through.”
“Yes, sir.”
The thralls melted out of their path, yet Tevi saw the venom in the lieutenant’s eyes grow. Doubtless he was adding the implied reprimand that he had received to the list of his grievances against her. The fault lay with him and his childishness, not her, but that would not matter.
Ranenok and Tevi emerged from under the gatehouse into the wide expanse of the inner bailey. Although it was the smallest of the three, the hexagonal area was still over two hundred yards across. The gatehouse stood in one corner. Directly opposite, the keep blotted out the last remnants of light in the western sky. Towers marked the other four corners. These were not small, yet appeared so by comparison with the huge keep.
A garden filled the open space in the middle, its beauty incongruous with the menacing surroundings. A wooden summerhouse overlooked a lily pond. Statues stood amid the flowers. Blossom-covered trees lined the walkways. And, thanks to Bykoda’s magic, blossoms still covered the trees, even at the end of winter.
Distant thunder echoed over the darkening castle. The scent of roses on the wind was mingled with that of impending rain. Tevi was eager to get indoors. She bid the commander good night and headed off to her left.
“Captain Teverik, if you could spare a moment.” Ranenok hailed her.
“Yes, sir?” Tevi turned back.
Ranenok was a tall man with the solid build of a soldier. He looked to be at least sixty, although still fit and forceful. He had clearly led an active life. His left arm ended in a stump at the elbow and a long scar puckered his right cheek, narrowly missing his eye.
As Bykoda’s acolyte, Ranenok had quarters in the inner bailey. He was one of the three army commanders. The others were in charge of the army to the north and the south. Ranenok’s forces formed the castle guard and patrolled the immediate surroundings. Tevi could admit to a genuine respect for him. She definitely had found serving under him far less difficult than she might. He was competent and fair-minded, and acted as though he seriously believed that he was responsible for the protection of all Bykoda’s citizens, rather than just the Empress herself.
“I believe that Madam Jemeryl will be heading back to the Protectorate soon.” A hint of a question marked Ranenok’s voice.
“I think so, sir. Jemeryl said she was almost ready to go. Just waiting for the passes over the Barrodens to open.”
“And you’ll be going with her?”
“Oh, yes.” Tevi tried not to sound too eager.
“If you wanted to stay, there’d be a place for you among my troops. And you can keep your rank of captain.”
“Sir? But I’m just an ordinary, ungifted mercenary.”
“Hardly.” Ranenok smiled at Tevi’s confusion. “I don’t hold much hope that you can so easily abandon Jemeryl, but I wanted you to know that the offer was there.” He nodded. “Good night.”
“Good night, sir.” Tevi frowned at his back, retreating into the twilight and then turned towards the tower where Jemeryl had her quarters.
The darkness was now thick enough that the glowing ring of small spheres had appeared above the path around the walls, sufficient to light the way. The promised rain was starting to fall in earnest, driven on the cold wind, though it could not put out the mage lights. The two thralls with the saddlebags continued following Tevi around the outside of the garden, into the tower, and up the staircase.
The lower floors belonged to Mavek, the blacksmith. Tevi hoped she would not run into him—not that she disliked the man, but he would probably want to drag her back to the forge to demonstrate his latest project. Normally, his friendliness and enthusiasm were a welcome change to the cold antagonism of most others. Tonight, Tevi just wanted to see Jemeryl and rest.
Fortunately, there was no sign of the blacksmith and Tevi reached Jemeryl’s quarters unhindered. The thralls dropped the bags just inside the doorway at the spot indicated and then left. The
sound brought Jemeryl running from another room.
“Tevi. I got the message from the gate. You’re back.”
There was no need to reply to the obvious statement, nor the opportunity, since Jemeryl immediately flung herself into Tevi’s arms and kissed her fervently. Tevi winced as the onslaught twanged the wound in her shoulder. Jemeryl pulled back.
“Are you all right?”
“My shoulder. It’s nothing much, but—”
Tevi did not get the chance to finish. Almost before she realised it, she was sitting before the fire with Jemeryl fussing around, bringing cushions, setting out food and drink, removing her boots, inspecting the wound—all interspersed with quick kisses planted on any part of Tevi that was to hand.
The hectic barrage showed no sign of abating. At last, Tevi caught hold of Jemeryl’s arm and pulled her down so that they were looking into each other’s eyes.
“I’m all right. Honest I am.”
“Well, yes, but...” Abruptly, Jemeryl calmed, while her gaze grew more intense. “I’ve missed you.”
Tevi felt her insides melt. She could happily lose her soul staring into Jemeryl’s eyes. All the doubts and strains of the previous hour were irrelevant. For the first time since the walls of Tirakhalod had broken the horizon, Tevi felt at peace.
Perhaps I’m wrong to leave Tirakhalod, Tevi thought. Being outside the castle doesn’t help. Perhaps I should just stay in these rooms and not meet anyone else until it’s time for us to return to the Protectorate. Jemeryl is the only one I need.
*
Jemeryl worked on controlling her reactions while she listened to the details of the battle with the deserters and came to terms with the risks that her lover had taken. She understood Tevi’s reasons for wanting time away from the castle. Getting upset would only make Tevi feel guilty, and Jemeryl did not want to use emotional pressure. She was determined to keep tight control of her fears for just a little while longer. Very soon, they would be returning to the Protectorate, and the dangers and stresses of Bykoda’s Empire would be behind them.
The fire was burning low, although the room was still warm and cosy and felt all the more so by comparison with the sound of the storm raging outside. Jemeryl sat beside Tevi on a couch, shoulders touching, fingers interlaced. In her free hand she held a glass of red wine. She lifted it up, watching the firelight through its distorting lens. On the armrest, her familiar, the magpie Klara II, was busy preening her wings.
“So how have things been here at the castle?” Tevi asked.
“I’ve pretty much learnt everything I wanted from Bykoda, although I could easily spend another year here, picking up a few extra bits and bobs.” Jemeryl took a sip of wine. “And I did find out something unexpected. Bykoda’s going to be assassinated.”
“What! Who by?”
“She didn’t know.”
“But she isn’t very pleased about it,” Klara added.
Tevi let go of Jemeryl’s hand and swivelled to face her. “Bykoda told you herself?”
“Yes.”
“Why doesn’t she do something about it?”
“She can’t. She found out from casting an oracle.”
“What difference does that make?”
Jemeryl laughed softly. “It’s the temporal paradox. Supposing you cast an oracle and find out about something you don’t want to happen and therefore are able to stop it. Then it wouldn’t have happened, so you’d have been unable to foretell it from the oracle in the first place. That’s what people usually mean by temporal paradox. However, to my mind, the real paradox is that the more useless the information, the easier it is to find out.”
“How does that stop Bykoda from protecting herself?”
“She can try anything she wants. But the mere fact she was able to get the information means that nothing she does is going to work.”
“What?”
Jemeryl smiled at the confusion on Tevi’s face and tried to think of an explanation. “Supposing I were to cast an oracle to find out if the sun was going to rise tomorrow, then it would be very easy to get an answer, because there is nothing that anyone can do with the information to make the prediction not come true. However, the more potential that the oracle has to negate its own accuracy, then the more energy it takes to break through the resulting paradoxes. To get any real, practical advice is virtually impossible.”
“So oracles are useless.”
“They can be handy for betting on horse races,” Klara said.
Tevi ignored the magpie. “I thought some sorcerers made a specialty of foretelling the future.”
“They try. But it’s mainly done in a negative way. For example—” Jemeryl indicated the door. “Supposing I’m about to go out and I cast an oracle to see if it’s safe. If there was no problem, then the oracle should be straightforward, since the information won’t affect my actions. But if I couldn’t get an answer, it implies that knowing the future would change things. However, I’d have no idea how they would change. If a dragon is outside, then I’d want to stay put. If the building is about to catch fire, then I’d want to get out quickly, rather than hang around wasting time trying to work out what the oracle meant.”
Tevi gave a wry smile. “And I guess that most things people consult oracles about are far more complex than whether or not to go outside.”
“Quite. The art of professional fortune-tellers is in trying to work out inferences based on what they can’t find out.”
Klara hopped onto Jemeryl’s lap. “Which is how they come up with advice like, When the third cow crosses the river, listen for the yellow rain.”
Jemeryl stroked her familiar’s head with her forefinger. “In my opinion, you’re better off flipping a coin.”
“Bykoda’s found out she’s going to be murdered,” Tevi said.
“Which only means that the knowledge is useless.”
“Except she now knows she needn’t put a bottle of her favourite wine aside for her next birthday,” Klara said.
Tevi looked at the magpie. “Next birthday? It’s going to happen soon?”
“This coming autumn,” Jemeryl answered.
“Does she know anything else?”
“She’ll die in her council chamber. She’s sure the assassin is one of her acolytes, but has no idea which one.”
“Then why not kill all six of them? I can’t see Bykoda being held back by scruples.”
“Her death is inevitable, so one of the replacement acolytes would be her murderer. Removing the original acolyte would merely be the ironic action that allowed the real murderer to get close.”
“Or not, if she doesn’t do it,” Klara added.
Tevi slipped down in the seat, her face knotted in a frown.
“What are you thinking?” Jemeryl asked eventually.
“Trying to work out which of the acolytes I could see as the assassin.”
“It’s a tricky one. I’d have said that none of them had the strength to challenge Bykoda. She’s very careful about who she has around her. The acolytes are the only people in the castle other than her who’d have any chance of being counted as sorcerers in the Coven. They have some awareness of all seven dimensions, but they all have major weaknesses, which is why Bykoda selected them in the first place.”
“How about the army commanders? They could use their junior officers to help. The juniors might only be witches, but if they all followed their commander, they might stand a chance.”
“Not the way Bykoda has split the army. Anid and Yenneg have to leave their troops behind when they come to Tirakhalod for meetings. Ranenok has people in place here, but his section of the army is by far the smallest. I doubt he could muster the resources to pose a threat.”
“Supposing Yenneg rebelled and brought his troops down from the north?”
“It can’t have escaped your notice that all three army commanders hate each other. At the first sign from Yenneg, Anid would be leaping for the chance to attack. And the thought of Yenneg seizi
ng power would guarantee Ranenok’s help to stop him.”
“It can’t have been easy to find three people who are so mutually antagonistic.”
“I suspect Bykoda’s been tampering with their emotions. That’s how she makes sure that the army will never unite against her.”
“Could Bykoda do that? I thought sorcerers could protect their minds against magic.”
“Not those three. From what I can tell, the army commanders can perceive all the paranormal dimensions well enough, but they are very weak in their ability to manipulate what’s there.” Jemeryl swirled the wine in her glass thoughtfully. “If you want an analogy with the four normal dimensions, it would be somebody who could see where a bell is, and hear it when it rings, but doesn’t have the muscles or coordination to pick it up and shake it. They need someone else to build them a rope-and-pulley arrangement. Hence the commanders can command thralls, send messages using orbs, and wield the weapons Mavek and Dunarth make. But they could never challenge Bykoda.”
“What about the other acolytes?”
“They have their strengths and weaknesses. Dunarth is very good with the life forces of the fifth dimension but can hardly light a candle using the elemental power of the sixth. Mavek is the opposite. Which is why he’s the blacksmith and she’s the alchemist.”
“And Kharel, the steward?”
“She’s probably the best all-round sorcerer of the acolytes. She’s pretty rare among magic users in that she’s able to make real use of the seventh dimension. The temporal dimension is used for prophesy, which is how she makes sure the castle doesn’t run low on supplies.”
“Doesn’t the temporal paradox get in the way?”
Jemeryl laughed. “You need to set up the system right and be very sharp in monitoring it. Maybe Kharel’s big talent is in realising that you should use oracles to warn about running out of flour and not expect them to stop you from making a mess of your life.”
“So is Kharel the best candidate for assassin?”
“I don’t know. The big problem is that Bykoda has foreseen she’ll be murdered in her council chamber, which is possibly the place where she has her strongest defences. Kharel may be the best balanced of the acolytes, but she isn’t strong. Bykoda has always been wary about threats. I’m the only really competent sorcerer Bykoda has ever allowed inside the castle.”
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 4