The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition)

by Dusk Peterson

  "And you." I raised my head. "It's not just the King and Blackwood we have to worry about now, you know. The Jackal may be our enemy as well."

  "If he is," said Carle, with his quirk of a smile, "he'll soon regret ever having tangled with the Chara's spies."

  For a long time after Carle left, I stared into the fire, watching it eat the black logs. Finally I whispered to the fire, "Jackal, if you have come to this world in order to play your tricks on my people, be warned: I won't let you past the border. I won't let you destroy my new homeland, the way you and the other gods have destroyed my native land."

  With the words spoken, I felt better. I went back to bed then and slept until mid-morning, in a sleep untroubled by dreams of my murderous kin.

  o—o—o

  The thirtieth day of November in the 941st year a.g.l.

  To Hylas:

  I am leaving this note for you so that you will know, in case I do not come back. Carle has been placed under arrest. I have gone to try to secure his release.

  Adrian

  o—o—o

  I have time in which to relate what happened, though I am beginning to shake now from the thought of what I did.

  After a day spent following rumors in the square next to the prison, I arrived back at the Blackpass inn while the guests there were still talking of the arrest of a red-haired man who had engaged in suspicious behavior, so that the innkeeper had hailed down some passing soldiers. The soldiers had questioned the man, had not been satisfied with his answers, and had taken him to the army headquarters for further questioning.

  I lingered only long enough to ascertain that the man arrested was indeed Carle. Then I wrote a note to Hylas, placed it in our message spot, and hurried to find the army headquarters.

  Of course I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. But it was not only my bond to Carle that caused me to run down the street; it was the thought of what Wystan had said about the dangers if we were captured. Carle knew far too much information about the members of the Division of Disclosure. If he broke under questioning, the lives of every spy in Koretia would be at risk.

  I found the army headquarters easily, by questioning a passing soldier. It was located in a part of town I vaguely remembered from early childhood visits, and it consisted of a cluster of buildings. Some soldiers were milling around in the courtyard when I arrived, but the guards at the main gate let me through without trouble, once I had stated my business.

  Once I had entered the courtyard, however, I had a great deal of difficulty gaining access to the captain in charge of the Blackpass divisions. I could not remember his name, and my entry to him was blocked by a very loyal orderly who seemed to feel that his captain's time was far too precious to spend with a man petitioning for the release of his blood brother. Finally, grudgingly, the orderly entered a chamber nearby and returned with the news that his captain would see me. He ushered me into the chamber.

  My first thought was that the room I was entering looked, not like a chamber devoted to army business, but like my family's home. It was a raftered hall, with a dais at the end of the chamber, similar to the dais where the baron and anyone he chose might stand to speak when issuing commands. This being Koretia, the dais was quite small in comparison to the remainder of the hall, where the lesser free-man would stand and discuss amongst themselves whether the baron's commands had any merit to them.

  Against the wooden wall behind the dais hung the ancient banner of the old kings of Koretia, showing the masks of the seven gods and goddesses surrounding a gold scepter. Underneath this was a banner woven with the family seal of the Baron of Blackpass, which was not much different from the ancient royal seal. I looked around the hall for some sign that this place was used for army purposes, but could find nothing beyond some swords on the wall that looked as though they dated back to the early centuries of Koretia. A few table-tops and their trestles lay against the wall, as well as a wine-table that the orderly now stood beside. At the end of the hall nearest me, under a high window from which light streamed, sat the captain, wearing the black-and-forest-green uniform of the Blackpass army, and carefully scribing a letter upon a writing table.

  The whole scene looked familiar, much too familiar. I was still trying to figure out where I had seen this hall before when the captain looked up at me, and I felt my heart plummet.

  The captain was Blackwood, Baron of Blackpass.

  In the silence that followed, I had time to curse myself for forgetting the customs of my native land. Of course Blackwood was captain of Blackpass's army, just as the King was Commander of his own army. Quentin had spoken a few weeks before of "the Koretian army," but no such entity existed, except during periods of truce, when the new nobility and the old nobility condescended to ally with one another. At times of feuding, there were two armies, and only a portion of their duty lay in preventing innocents from falling victim to crimes and preventing invasions from foreigners. Their main duty was to serve as murderers in blood feuds between Blackwood and the King. As Knox had said, these soldiers had been busy since the present feud began, and no doubt Blackwood had bloodied his own sword on a number of occasions against the King's noble kin.

  I was the King's noble kin, and I had just walked into the hall of a baron who had taken a blood vow to kill me and my relatives.

  I knew now why the hall looked familiar. I had been here before, at age seven, during one of the periods of truce between King Rawdon and Blackwood. During such truce times, my father owed loyalty, not only to the King, but also to Blackwood, the highest-ranked noble in the borderland. It was in this hall that Blackwood had announced certain changes that the King had commanded to the gods' law, while taking the opportunity to present his fierce opposition to the King's policy. It was here also that King Rawdon's grandfather had killed the last king of the old royal line and claimed the throne of Koretia. I did not need a genealogical tree in front of me to know that the only man alive whose blood permitted him to challenge Rawdon's claim to the throne was Blackwood himself.

  Little wonder that the old nobility had turned this blood feud into a civil war. They must be hoping that Blackwood would claim the throne that had belonged to his great-grandfather. All that stood between Blackwood and such victory was the King and his noble kin. If he killed them all . . .

  Still sitting in his chair, Blackwood said, "You wished to speak to me about your blood brother. You say your name is Adrian. Of what lineage?"

  I took a deep breath. Evidently Blackwood did not recognize me; that wasn't surprising, on reflection. I had been young when we last met, and I wasn't my father's heir at that time. "Sir, I have no bloodline," I said truthfully. "My father has disowned me, and I do not take part in the present feud." It seemed important to emphasize this fact. "However, I am related, through his mother, to Emlyn son of Maddock, blood brother of Griffith, Baron of Cold Run."

  Since this was perfectly true, it seemed the safest story to tell. Emlyn had lived in the south for so long now that it was unlikely that Blackwood had ever met him or that Griffith would have mentioned him to Blackwood. But my appearance would convince Blackwood that I was telling the truth. As I had informed Fowler, I had my mother's looks, and this meant that I looked much more like Emlyn and members of his bloodline than I did like my father. No doubt Blackwood had met some of my distant kin and would have noticed the resemblance in any case.

  Any reply that Blackwood might have made was interrupted at that moment by a rap on the door behind me. I moved out of the way as the orderly went to answer the door. Presently he opened it wide to admit a subcaptain.

  I had a small, jagged moment of fear that the newcomer would prove to be the subcaptain in charge of the Koretian border guards, but this was a man I had never met before. Without a word to me, Blackwood beckoned the subcaptain and orderly over to his desk while I backed away to give them privacy. The baron murmured something to the orderly. The orderly nodded, and then came over to stand by me. He did not draw his blade
– no man draws his blade during a feud unless he intends to use it – but he watched my blade-hand in so pointed a manner that I felt my heart sink. For whatever reason, the baron had not accepted my story; I was still under suspicion.

  I turned my attention back to Blackwood. He was talking softly with the subcaptain, so softly that I should not have been able to hear what he was saying – but I had been in the border mountain patrol, and Carle and I had communicated during our patrols in whispers that were softer than this. Between that and the training I had received as a spy in reading men's lips, I could follow the conversation as clearly as though it had been shouted.

  Blackwood spent a moment scanning a piece of paper that the subcaptain had handed him, and then pointed to something written on it. "Him."

  The subcaptain leaned over to look. He raised his eyebrows. "He's noted for his bladesmanship."

  "That's for me to worry about. Your concern is to ensure that none of the men in his village with whom he has blood ties are left alive to avenge his death." Blackwood scribbled on the paper for a moment, and then handed the page to the subcaptain. "See that men are assigned to each of them."

  The subcaptain glanced at the page before pointing at the list himself and saying, "This one is blood brother to a member of the next village. If we kill him, the feud will spread to that village."

  Blackwood sighed heavily as he leaned back in his chair. "And what are my alternatives? Every village in the land of Koretia has men with blood ties to other villages. How do you think it is that the feud has spread this far?"

  "It never used to be that way in the old days. Feuds were confined to the two villages involved, unless higher-ranked nobles chose to involve themselves."

  "These aren't the old days." Blackwood waved a hand, dismissing him. "Bring me the soldiers tonight, and I'll exchange blood oaths with them."

  I expected the subcaptain to salute and leave. I forgot that this was Koretia. He stood in his place, unmoved, until Blackwood said, "You have a better notion?"

  The subcaptain shrugged. "Well, sir, we just don't seem to be progressing anywhere in this feud. The King wipes out a bloodline; you wipe one out in return. At the rate we're going, soon no Koretians will be left alive, other than the women and children and others who take no part in the feud."

  Blackwood raised his eyebrows. "You know I've indicated to the King my willingness to exchange a peace oath with him. You know he has refused. What is your point?"

  "Just that this may be the time to change tactics. Have you thought of the possibility of hostages?"

  Blackwood was silent for a long moment as I felt coldness enter my belly. Then he smiled. "Thank you," he said, so softly that I knew the words only from the movement of his lips. "Yes, hostages may indeed be the way to victory. Not this one, though." He gestured dismissively toward the paper. "The King wouldn't exert himself to save that baron. We need someone who is closer to his heart."

  "Perhaps that young noble who has caused all this trouble," suggested the subcaptain.

  Blackwood gave a short laugh. "That would be an unconventional hostage. It can hardly be said that his family values his life."

  "They value his death, though. If you told them that you held him in your custody . . ."

  The snowbound cave had felt warmer than this. I crossed my arms across my chest in an attempt to keep from shivering. The orderly watched me with narrowed eyes, suspicious of what this apparent show of defiance meant.

  Blackwood leaned back in his chair, appearing to consider this suggestion. "Mountside's heir . . ." he said. "I'd gladly burn him myself for the trouble he has caused to this land. Unfortunately, he's nowhere to be found. Perhaps this man who claims to be the Jackal is hiding him." The twist of his mouth told, more eloquently than words, what he thought of the claims of that man. "No, I think it's time we took this feud south."

  The subcaptain shook his head. "Sir, the King has anticipated that possibility. The capital is well-guarded by his army."

  "I know that. I had in mind Valouse."

  The subcaptain shook his head again. "With the King's brother dead, the Baron of Valouse is now heir apparent, sir. The King will no doubt be keeping guard over the baron as well. He won't want to risk having you murder another of his heirs."

  "The Baron of Valouse is well guarded," Blackwood said. "His heir is not."

  The silence that followed lasted so long that the orderly flicked a glance over at Blackwood, before returning his attention to me. The subcaptain seemed incapable of speech. Finally he said, "He's only eleven."

  "All the more reason that the baron will not think to guard his son."

  "Sir, Tristan is a child," the subcaptain said, as though he thought Blackwood hadn't heard his words before. "The gods' law forbids the murder of children."

  "Yes, I recall the King reminding us of this when he spoke in the name of the absent High Priest at the beginning of this year." Blackwood continued to lean back in the chair, his hands relaxed on the arms. "How many weeks was that, do you recall, before he killed Cole?"

  The orderly, hearing the name, looked again at the baron. This time his look lingered, as though he thought his services might be needed. The subcaptain made no reply. Blackwood leaned forward in his chair. In a voice gone taut, like a bard's harp-string that has suddenly been tightened, he said, "My son was not much older than Tristan when he was abducted this spring. You know what the King's soldiers did to him before they killed him. Can you give me any reason why I should follow a law put forth by a man who orders such things? Or why I should show more mercy to the son of the King's heir than the King showed to my heir?"

  The subcaptain let out his breath slowly. "No, sir. But I will have to discuss this with my men. I can't say whether they'll follow your order."

  To this quintessentially Koretian statement – which would have resulted in a mass trial in the subcommander's court if such words had been spoken in the Emorian army – the Baron of Blackpass simply nodded. "Let me know what they decide. And tell them I have no intention of harming young Tristan if the King agrees to my proposed truce for peace negotiations. If he does not . . ." Blackwood shrugged. "The King, not I, will answer to the gods for my shedding of the boy's blood." He waved his hand, and this time the subcaptain took the hint, saluting Blackwood with his sword before leaving the chamber.

  Blackwood was still a while, his eyes travelling over the banners showing his noble lineage. Then he seemed to recollect I was there; he beckoned to me. I went forward, while the orderly busied himself with some papers near the entrance.

  "Now," said Blackwood, "tell me about your blood brother."

  I went as quickly as I could through the tale of Carle's arrest. I was eager to be gone from this place before Blackwood looked too closely at my face and noticed my resemblance to certain feud enemies of his. When I was finished, the baron said, "Your blood brother Calder was arrested for suspicious behavior. He refused to give way to another man when they were both passing through the same doorway, even though the other man was burdened with heavy objects. The only excuse that your blood brother offered was that he was of higher rank than the other man."

  I could have groaned then. Of course Carle would refuse to give way to a man who was of lower rank than Carle was supposed to be. To have given way in Emor would have been a suspicious act in itself, alerting everyone to the fact that Carle was not actually a noble.

  Blackwood continued, "Some soldiers who were passing tried to reason with him. When he answered them gruffly, they took hold of him to try to pull him out of the way, since he was still blocking the doorway. At that point, he began to lecture them on the importance of showing respect toward their betters."

  Blackwood raised his eyebrows, and I struggled with the odd impulse to laugh. I could envision the scene: Carle delivering his finest lecture on Emorian notions of rank, and the soldiers exchanging looks, wondering what in the names of all the gods this had to do with the civility of giving way to a burdened man.r />
  "It all seemed very strange to the soldiers, so they brought him back here for questioning," Blackwood concluded. "Since his arrival, your blood brother has refused to answer any questions put to him, which of course has raised our curiosity as to the reason for his resistance."

  The implication was delicately phrased. I took a deep breath. Thanks to his ignorance of Koretian life, Carle had steered us into a marsh as deep as any in southwest Daxis, but I had always known that something like this might happen, and I had a story prepared. "Sir, my blood brother is . . . Well, he had a hard childhood, sir, and so he sometimes acts a bit strangely."

  I told the story then of Carle's imaginary background, which was the background of the real noble-boy I had once known. I finished by saying, "So you see, sir, though Calder is still a noble, he has lost the barony he might have held, and because of this, he is somewhat sensitive on matters of rank. And being arrested and imprisoned . . . well, that would merely make him too frightened to respond to questions. He's a bit simple, you see." I breathed up a silent apology for the slander I was placing upon my wine-friend's keen intelligence.