The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition)

by Dusk Peterson

  "Neither do I," I cut in. "He was appointed the summer that I left Koretia."

  "I know. But many Koretians were sent to my palace during those first few years after the wars. Did you ever hear them talking about Lord Alan?"

  "Well," I said, "I wasn't much interested during those years in listening to talk about Emor's rule in Koretia. All that I remember hearing was that the governor was a tyrant and stole from his people – just like the Chara, the Koretians said."

  Peter laughed. I pointed to the red patches and asked, "What are those?"

  "Those," said Peter, leaning back, "are Emorian soldiers. The bigger the red area, the more units we had in that region. My father had about forty-two garrisons in the Koretian territory he cared for when this map was made. At the time of my enthronement, the number had gone down to eighteen. Here is a map I ordered drawn up recently." He pushed aside the old map in order to show the one under it. "What do you notice?"

  I stared down at the red and white paper before me. "More garrisons."

  "Three times more soldiers than there were at the time I became Chara. Anything else?"

  "I don't observe much that would be helpful to you. I see that the city has been rebuilt, and that a good portion of it is taken up by the governor's palace."

  "Yes, and that's a matter of concern to me – how Lord Alan could afford to build a palace that size. Nor am I sure how he could afford to bribe as many of my spies as I believe have been bribed. So the governor's manner of living bothers me. The extra soldiers I've had to send may be a result of the unrest he has caused."

  "If that is so," I replied, "couldn't you remove him from office?"

  Peter replied only with a smile.

  I said, "I forgot. You're bound by the law."

  "Like a prisoner," Peter said cheerfully. "It's up to the council to take action, and I couldn't bring such a proposal to them unless I had solid proof of the governor's misconduct."

  "You could charge Lord Alan with a crime." I said this quietly, standing, as usual, with the stiff motionlessness of a soldier on sentry duty.

  Peter turned toward the table to place weights on the restless edges of the map. "I could. That is to say, the court summoners could charge him with a crime, and only if I provided them with more convincing proof than I presently possess. Besides, it's more complicated than you'd think. This problem is one of the reasons why my father locked me in my chamber for ten years and fed me law book after law book. The law is a demanding master to serve, and I sometimes feel like its much-abused slave after one of my battles with the council."

  "I probably won't understand a word of what you say," I told him, "but explain it to me anyway, if you will."

  "Actually, it's based on the one law phrase you understand well: the council takes care of its own. The council judges those under its care, and the High Lord has the final say on whether a lord is removed from office, in the same way that the High Lord and I jointly decide whether to appoint a man to be council lord."

  "And Lord Dean wouldn't remove the governor from office," I said with sudden understanding.

  "Remove Lord Alan from office after spending all these years cultivating a fine connection with the governor? I think that Lord Dean is as unlikely to do that as he is to smile upon anyone with true friendship."

  "But if the governor were found guilty of his crime—"

  "The law is odd that way. A lord's appointment is for life, and it makes no difference if he is enslaved or imprisoned at the time. In such cases, the High Lord simply appoints someone to discharge the lord's duties, a task that would make Lord Dean very happy – having sole charge over deciding who ran one of my dominions. No, the only thing that will free me of Lord Alan is his death, either his natural death or his death by the sword."

  I said in the cool, hard voice for which I was noted, "I don't suppose that the council judge would sentence Lord Alan to death if he knew that it would take power away from the council."

  Peter stared intently at the map, his finger resting upon the mark signifying the governor's palace. "It's a moot issue at present, because Lord Alan's death would solve only half my problems. The governor isn't completely to blame for what is happening in Koretia. Someone else is causing unrest in the dominion."

  The name came to my lips, but I said nothing. Peter's finger travelled from the governor's palace to the small mark showing the priests' house. "If there's one thing that the governor has not tried to hide from me, it's his information on the Koretian religion, for the simple reason that he knows next to nothing on the topic. I understand that the Jackal is connected in some way to the priests. What is this man's connection with them?"

  "To start with," I said, "the Jackal is not a man but a god."

  Peter looked at me, and I smoothly switched my gaze over to the map. I had a moment, in the pause that followed, to wonder how much of what the Chara was asking me about he already knew. It was unlikely that, after ten years as Master of the Koretian Land, Peter had never thought to enquire as to the nature of the Jackal. Already he had raised several topics that I had overheard him expound upon to his council lords, with great erudition.

  A cynic might have thought he was testing my loyalty by gauging the truthfulness of my answers. Having witnessed Peter practice this device with his other subjects, I had once asked him its purpose. He had replied with pure simplicity, "When I hear others speak on a topic I think I know about, I learn of my ignorance."

  Now he said, "Do you believe that?"

  "I'm telling you what the Koretian people believe. The Jackal is one of the seven gods and goddesses whom they have worshipped over the centuries. He is the thief god who prowls in the night, and the hunting god who snatches his spoils. Thirty-five years ago, a man appeared who claimed to be the human form of the Jackal God—"

  "Wait. Thirty-five years ago? Before the Emorians arrived?"

  "He appeared at the start of Koretia's civil war, the one that eventually led Koretia to attack Emor and start the Border Wars. The man who called himself the Jackal claimed that he had come to destroy the enemies of the people and bring peace to the land."

  "Which enemies, if the Emorians hadn't yet arrived?"

  "The Jackal didn't say. All I can say is that he made the King and his council nervous enough that they were forever trying to capture him in order to question him. He slipped out of their traps time and time again."

  Peter curled his fist under his beardless chin. Unlike his father, who had followed the military fashion for beards, Peter preferred the more common Emorian custom of being clean-shaven. "If the Jackal is a god," he said, "I suppose that he knew that the Emorians would be arriving. Perhaps he arranged Koretia's attack on the borderland villages to ensure that the Emorians would come. Whatever his intentions might have been toward the late King, now Emor is his enemy?"

  "It would appear so. Since the time your father first crossed the border with his army, the Jackal's thieves – the Koretians who secretly serve him – haven't made life easy for the Emorians or their sympathizers."

  "The thieves murder them," Peter said bluntly.

  "I don't know how it is these days, but murders were rare in my childhood, though of course they were the acts that attracted the most attention. More often the Jackal's followers practiced thievery: small thefts, tricks that left the victims frustrated, and quite a few practical jokes. Once a garrison captain locked a town council out of its meeting hall and afterwards found himself locked out of his own house for three days. The thieves are quiet as cats, are rarely caught, and almost never talk when they are caught. The Jackal himself has never been caught, nor is his human identity known to any but his closest companions."

  Peter walked over to the window and stared out at the mountains again. "Are there any stories about what he is like?"

  "Nobody seems to be sure of his age – I suppose that by this time he must be in his older years. As to his appearance, it is said that he has the body of a man and the face of a jackal."<
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  Peter turned to look at me. I lifted my eyes from the map and stared back at him silently. He said, "A mask?"

  I nodded. "Many centuries ago, the priests wore masks when they made sacrifices to the gods, so as to show in which god's name they were killing the victim. The masks, though no longer worn, are still used as an aid to worship. The man called the Jackal is said to wear such a god-mask."

  "God-masks, slave-masks – Koretia seems to be a land full of masks. . . . But I'm less interested in the Jackal's appearance than in what sort of man he is."

  "If I ever speak with him, I'll be able to tell you. But I can at least tell you what the god is like." I paused, my eyes searching the neck-flap of his tunic. "You're not wearing your emblem brooch."

  "No, I'm dressed for the court today."

  "I realize that. What I meant was, I could have used your royal emblem to explain about the Jackal."

  "Use this, then." Peter strode forward and pulled from his finger the Chara's seal-ring, used to seal official documents and letters, such as the one Peter had left me. Except for certain high-ranked court officials, anyone who touched the ring could be placed under the high doom.

  I took the Chara's ring from his hand and turned it to show the emblem of the Charas: a balance holding in one scale a blade and in the other scale a bird wounded in the heart.

  "This is one of many things which have convinced me that Emor and Koretia were once connected in some way," I said. "Here is the Chara's emblem: the Balance of Judgment holding the Sword of Vengeance and the Heart of Mercy. And those are the three attributes of the Jackal as well: the God of Judgment, the God of Vengeance, and the God of Mercy. The Jackal God hides in the shadows during his night-prowls, judging the Koretian people. To his enemies he brings vengeance, and to his loyal servants he brings the mercy of peace. There are even stories of the god allowing himself to be wounded and to suffer for those who serve him. That is why he is so loved by the Koretian people."

  Peter took back the ring, slid it onto his finger, and asked quietly, "Was he loved by you when you were a child? Did you wish to become a thief for the Jackal?"

  I looked down again at the map before answering. "The blood vow I once told you of was made to the Jackal."

  The guards, who had been shuffling in their places outside the Map Room, fell silent at this moment, and the loudest sound I could hear was the crackle of the fire behind me. Peter said, "Then I will have to hope that, when I visit Koretia, the Jackal doesn't place me under his high doom for helping you to break your vow."

  I touched the map very lightly before I looked up to where Peter stood, watching me. "You are going to Koretia?" I said in a dispassionate voice.

  "I think that's the only action I can take to prevent war from breaking out again." He waited, and then said, "What is on your mind?"

  "I was thinking that summer isn't the best time to visit Koretia."

  Peter smiled. "You're supposed to say, 'The Chara never leaves his palace.' That's what the council lords will say when I tell them of my decision."

  "You haven't told them yet?"

  "I didn't decide to go before this conversation. I expect that the council and I will have a lengthy quarrel on the topic, but the law allows me to go, and my duty as Chara tells me to go. Besides, I'd like to see Koretia. I was only there for that one brief visit."

  "Because your father wouldn't risk putting you in danger's way again. How will the Chara avoid becoming the Jackal's next victim?"

  "The Chara hopes," said Peter with a smile, "that his subject Andrew will not be leading him into any more ambushes. But in any case, I won't be travelling as the Chara. It appears that the Jackal doesn't murder Emorian lords at random, so I should be safe if I don't call attention to myself, but instead journey to the governor's palace in the company of one or two other lords." He paused, searching my face. "I may take a few lesser free-men along as well."

  I did not move my gaze from his, but my expression remained masked. "Are you asking me to come with you, Peter?"

  His voice, when he replied, was gentle. "I wish that it were Peter who was asking. I would like to say that the only reason I am asking you is because I, Peter, would like my friend to be able to visit his childhood home. But the fact is that the Chara is requesting his servant to accompany him so that, with your special background, you can find me information that I may wish to use against the Koretian rebels and their Jackal. I need you to be a spy in your own land."

  I still did not move, but now that the words were said, I felt my heart ease somewhat. "Thank you for putting that so clearly, Chara," I said softly, "but I have only one land, which is Emor, and only one master, which is you. When I gave my oath of loyalty to the Chara, I did not say that I would serve you only on condition that you not give me any hard tasks to do. If you need my help, then I will gladly come with you to Koretia."

  He bowed his head to me, as though he were the servant and I the master. "Thank you. I would miss you if I had to make this long trip to Koretia alone. Besides" – he gave a crooked smile – "I'm depending on you to tell me which Koretian foods are inedible to Emorians."

  I was saved from having to reply by the call of the trumpets outside, sounding three long notes. "May the high doom fall upon me," said the Chara. "I am due in the court now. Could you hand me my cloak?"

  I brought it over to him; he was placing the Pendant of Judgment around his neck. I shook my head as he tried to take the cloak from me, and instead went round his back to place it on him myself.

  "You must stop acting as though you were still my free-servant," he scolded me mildly. "You have your own duties as a palace guest."

  "Old customs are hard to abandon," I said.

  o—o—o

  The Chara's palace was nearly as big as the city I had grown up in, and I doubt that even Peter, who had spent all his life there, had visited every part of it. In theory, the great building was divided into three areas – the court, the army, and the council – but in practice, all of the important rooms were clustered in the vicinity of the Court of Judgment.

  I passed the doorway to the court after leaving the Map Room and caught a glimpse of the Chara sitting on his throne. I did not linger. A year had passed since I had last visited the court, and I had no desire ever to see the Chara in judgment again.

  Instead, I continued on to the north end of the palace, where two great copper doors stood open. They led to the vast chamber belonging to the council lords, who were given the task by law of running the daily affairs of Emor and its imperial dominions. The chamber was surrounded on three sides by the other rooms of the council quarters, and at the entrance to the chamber were side doors leading to the corridors adjoining these rooms. Through them, I could glimpse a bustle of activity.

  The Council Chamber's doors – as high and wide as those of the Map Room – were open, though they showed only a small portion of the chamber, since the council quarters, like the Map Room, jutted out toward the east, beyond the facade of the rest of the east wing of the palace. The entrance to the chamber was empty except for the council guards and the council porter. The latter was on a ladder at the entrance, attempting to raise the royal emblem of the Chara, which was placed above the chamber doorway on days when the council met in closed session. I paused to lend him my aid until we had together succeeded in placing the seal directly in the path of sunlight from the high corridor windows. The painted colors shone brightly from the grey stone background: the silver sword, the golden balance, and the red heart's blood on the black bird.

  "You're stronger than I would have thought," said the porter. Then, taking my silence for the reply that it was, he added hastily, "I mean . . . having lived all your life in the palace. . . . It's not as though you were trained for heavy work."

  "I had a few years of normal life before I came here," I replied. "Do you need help with passing word to the council officials?"

  Still standing above me on the ladder, the porter shook his head mutely,
and I continued on my journey without looking back at him. Turning right once I passed through the entrance, I walked through the empty Council Chamber, as ancient as the Court of Judgment, and made my way into a chamber at the back.

  The council library was a small room, but was one of the few in the palace that was filled with many windows. The sunlight fell unimpeded onto the short row of double-sided desks, each mounted in the middle with a small bookcase. I went from desk to desk until I found the volume I was looking for. Grasping its leather binding, which had grown warm under the sun's rays, I pulled the book gently from the shelf, brushing off the desk, as I did so, bits of paper that flaked off the book and fluttered down. As I seated myself, I pushed to one side the iron chain that bound the book to the desk, and then opened the collection of the Chara Nicholas's proclamations during the final years of the Border Wars.

  It took me some time to find the document I was seeking.