Touched by the Gods

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Then the enemy broke. A shout came from somewhere, and the nightwalkers turned away and headed for the river. Onnell stopped in his tracks and lowered his weapons.

  Then he saw the struggling figures the nightwalkers were carrying.

  “They're taking hostages!” he called. He turned to head off the enemy.

  An immense nightwalker in rusted armor seemed to appear from nowhere in front of him, and Onnell swung his axe. The nightwalker threw up an armored fist to deflect the blow and jabbed with its own short sword.

  Timuan, his fatigue vanishing when he saw Onnell stagger back away from the thrust, leapt forward.

  The fight was too confused for clear description, but a long moment later the nightwalker was down, its skull shattered and its brains spilled. Onnell and Timuan turned to see what had become of the others, on both sides.

  The great mass of nightwalkers had marched down into the river, carrying screaming, struggling men with them – had marched down, and down, and down, under the river, carrying their captives with them. Now they were starting to emerge on the far side, in the safety of their own camp.

  The screaming still came from the western bank, though, where Lord Duzon and several others stood hip-deep in the water, bellowing with rage.

  There was no screaming from the east. The captives no longer struggled when they arose from the water; they hung limp in their captor's hands. Timuan stared in horror.

  “Why did they do that?” he said. “Why capture them if you're just going to drown them?”

  Onnell swallowed.

  “They want the bodies intact,” he said, too tired to try to disguise the truth as he saw it.

  Timuan looked up at him in shock. “Why?” he asked.

  “For reinforcements,” Onnell replied grimly.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lord Kadan turned at the sound of jingling spurs, and saw Lord Shoule trotting into the courtyard of the training-ground headquarters astride a fine grey. Behind Shoule were three more riders, these three hooded and wrapped in brown wool cloaks – Lord Shoule's bodyguards or servants, Kadan guessed.

  “Oh, Ba'el,” he muttered. He did not need any more delays at this point. He put the map down on the stack of letters and reports on the barrelhead and waved a greeting.

  “Ho, my lord!” he called. “What brings you to Agabdal?”

  Lord Shoule peered down his long nose at Kadan, then swung from the saddle in a graceful dismount before replying, “I've come in part to see why your army is still here, Kadan. I see them lined up in the fields here, standing or sitting about; they hardly seem to be training or preparing themselves.”

  Kadan suppressed his urge to shout angrily. He glanced at the other three horsemen and said quietly, “The preparations are almost complete, my lord, and they but await the final command. Had you come an hour later you would have found us gone.”

  Shoule brushed dust from the skirts of his powder-blue riding coat, then looked up at Kadan. “You say 'us,' my lord? Were you intending to accompany them?”

  Kadan blinked in surprise. “Of course,” he said. “I intend to lead them into battle. I could hardly ask anyone else to undertake so important and dangerous a task.”

  “Ah,” Shoule said, nodding. “And of course, you would take command from General Balinus, despite his long experience against this dire foe we face.”

  Kadan felt his face redden. “I intend to listen very carefully to Balinus' advice, but the final responsibility for any military venture is mine and mine alone.”

  “Yours and yours alone,” Shoule said. “Any military venture.” He turned and called to the foremost of the other three, “You heard that, my lord?”

  The horseman threw back his hood, revealing Lord Orbalir's face.

  “I heard it,” Orbalir growled.

  “Oh, by Barzuar's bloody spear,” Kadan muttered. “This is a land war, my lords,” he said aloud. “The Imperial Army marches to this fight, not the navy.”

  “You go to fight across a river,” Orbalir said. “We may yet see boats involved. In any case, Kadan, by imperial edict you're to consult with me.”

  “All right, then!” Kadan shouted. “Come and consult, if you want! Are you ready to ride? We leave for Drievabor within the hour!”

  “I think not,” Shoule said.

  “What do you mean, you think not?” Kadan said, astonished.

  “I mean, my lord,” Shoule said, smiling unpleasantly, “that the Imperial Council does not intend to allow you to march the entire army off to the east under no one's control save your own, leaving Seidabar undefended and incidentally taking with you every single soldier who was involved in quelling the riot in Outer Seidabar three triads ago, before any of them have been properly questioned about those events – and about your part in them.”

  “My part in what? What are you talking about, Shoule?”

  “Your part in the riots, Lord Kadan,” Shoule replied. “Perhaps in other events, as well – such as the fire that broke out during those riots.”

  Kadan stared at Shoule for a moment, then up at the horsemen. Orbalir was grinning fiercely; the other two were still hooded. What other surprises did Shoule have there?

  Kadan's anger drained away. This was suddenly too important to let his temper play a role. These fools, whether misguided or malicious, were making serious accusations against him.

  Anyone could make accusations, of course, and Kadan was sure that in time he could clear himself of any wrongdoing – but he might not have any time. There was a real enemy out there to the east, and probably real traitors in the capital itself.

  “I had nothing to do with the fire,” Kadan said.

  “So you say,” Shoule said. “We have our doubts. Someone sent that messenger to Lord Niniam, luring away the guards – and you were in the Outer City, were you not?”

  “I was here, in Agabdal.”

  “A mere half-hour ride away. And you have hundreds of messengers here, already in their fine red uniforms.”

  “This is stupid, Shoule,” Kadan said, losing his grip on his temper for a moment. “Why would I want to burn the Imperial Palace, or harm the Empress?”

  “Because you're an ambitious man, perhaps? Because you think the Empire needs a younger, stronger hand at the helm?”

  “That's nonsense!”

  “Oh?” Shoule turned to one of the hooded riders. “Your Holiness?”

  The second hood was thrown back, revealing Apiris' unhappy face.

  “I'm sorry, Kadan,” he said.

  “Apiris?” Kadan was baffled by this new surprise – what was Apiris doing among his accusers? At the last meeting of the Imperial Council Lord Shoule had been denouncing the Archpriest as untrustworthy, and here he was at Shoule's heel?

  “Tell us, your Holiness, what Lord Kadan said to you in the Great Temple a few days ago,” Shoule said, never taking his eyes off Kadan.

  “He said... he said that being on the Imperial Council is a great opportunity, and we should use it. He said we're the masters of the world, and we should act like it. And that there was no use looking for a traitor on the Council.”

  “And what did you make of this?” Shoule asked.

  “Well, nothing, at the time,” Apiris admitted. “But later, when I thought about it, I wondered whether maybe when he talked about being assertive he meant we shouldn't yield so much to the imperial family, and to Prince Granzer. I thought maybe there was some resentment there.”

  “And why would he suggest there was no point in looking for a traitor, when there almost certainly is one?”

  “Well, he said that the traitor would reveal himself if we waited, but I couldn't help wondering if he didn't want us to look because he's the traitor.”

  “That's ridiculous,” Kadan protested. “I merely meant that left to his own devices, anyone who could be so foolish as to betray the Empire must surely make mistakes that would show us who it is!”

  Apiris stared miserably at him; Orbalir and Shoul
e grinned with satisfaction. “I think he has,” Shoule said. “To speak so freely to the Archpriest – were you trying to bring him into your conspiracy, Kadan?”

  “There is no conspiracy!” Kadan shouted. “Or at least, if there is, I've no part in it!” He glanced up as the light changed; one of the larger moons, perhaps Barzuar's, was moving across the sun's face.

  That reminded him that time was passing, the day going to waste.

  “My lords,” he said, “the army awaits my command. If you forbid me to accompany it alone, then I welcome your presence on our journey. If you forbid me to go at all, I question your authority to do so, unless this last mysterious figure you bring with you is Prince Granzer or the Empress herself, but I will postpone my own departure and go with you to the Council Chamber to have this matter out. In either case, I have orders to give – if you will excuse me – ”

  “No.” The final horseman threw back his hood.

  For a moment Kadan failed to recognize the face thus exposed; he had expected to see another Councillor. At last, though, the features registered.

  The final horseman was Prince Graubris.

  “Your Imperial Highness?” Kadan said.

  “My mother is too ill to leave her chambers,” Graubris said, “and my brother-in-law refuses to take the accusations against you seriously. Thus it fell to me to come here and ensure that you do not endanger the Empire.”

  “I have no intention of endangering the Empire!” Kadan shouted in reply.

  “I wish we could believe that,” Graubris said. “Alas, we cannot be sure. Therefore, the army shall not march until we have settled the matter. The men who put down the riot must be questioned; if one of your soldiers carried the false message to Lord Niniam, he must be identified.”

  “But... but your Highness, we have almost half a million men here! Are you going to have Lord Niniam look at all of them, one by one, seeking to identify this messenger?”

  “If that's what it takes,” Graubris said.

  Lord Kadan looked up him despairingly, and saw blind determination. He turned his gaze to Apiris; the Archpriest refused to meet his eyes. Orbalir was only too glad to meet them and smile mockingly, and Shoule was positively gloating.

  Kadan looked down at the map, and the letters of instruction to his subordinates, and the duty rosters and other forms that were not going to be needed right away after all.

  “I hope you four know what you're doing,” he said. “Very well; I'll postpone the departure. Again. I'll go to the Imperial Palace and discuss this with the full Council.” He looked up. “Unless you were planning to arrest me, and throw me in a dungeon somewhere?”

  Shoule hesitated, and glanced up at Graubris.

  “I must say, I would be impressed by the courage of anyone who dared to arrest me while surrounded by soldiers sworn to my service,” Kadan added. He did not glance at the archway behind the horses, where four armed guards stood ready, nor at the doorway behind himself where half a dozen officers awaited his next command.

  “That won't be necessary,” Graubris said, with a frown at Shoule. “If you'll accompany us back to Seidabar there need be no talk of arrest.”

  Apiris looked relieved, and Orbalir disappointed.

  Ten minutes later five horsemen rode out of the Agabdal camps, up through the broad avenues toward Seidabar.

  At that moment Prince Granzer emerged from his mother-in-law's chambers, striding heavily across the antechamber. He left the door open, and the sickroom stench of medicines and human waste wafted after him.

  “Send in the rest of the doctors,” he ordered the nearest attendant. “Her Imperial Majesty is unwell.”

  That was an understatement, as everyone present understood; Beretris was dying. How much longer she would last no one knew, but any hope for an actual recovery had faded away over the course of the winter.

  Granzer stopped in the middle of the broad Dradieshnan carpet and stood for a moment, watching the servants and physicians as they hurried to attend the Empress. Then he turned to his own aide, Delbur.

  “Where's Graubris?” he asked. “He should be here; I'm not sure, but this might be the end.”

  “He left the Palace some time ago, with Lord Shoule,” Delbur replied unhappily. “I believe they were bound for Agabdal.”

  “To see the army off?”

  “Uh... I think they wished to speak to Lord Kadan.”

  Granzer stared at Delbur, his expression darkening.

  “Lord Shoule,” he said.

  “I believe so.”

  “Was Orbalir with them?”

  “And the Archpriest, yes.”

  “Apiris? He's involved, now?”

  “Involved, Highness?”

  Granzer didn't answer; instead he turned and strode quickly out of the room, almost running.

  He found his way to the tower's central staircase and climbed rapidly up three flights, then threw open a door and stamped across a sitting room, startling his niece, Princess Derva, who had been curled up in a rocking chair, picking at half-finished embroidery.

  Granzer marched to the window, which faced northwest, but remarked as he passed, “Your grandmother's worse. You might want to go see her.”

  “Oh.” Derva took the hint; she put the embroidery aside and pushed herself up out of the chair – a task which took some doing, as she was half a year pregnant. She almost collided with Delbur in the sitting room door; he stepped aside and let her pass, then followed his master inside.

  “Highness?” he asked.

  “They're still there,” Granzer barked. “Look for yourself.” He gestured at the window.

  Delbur obediently looked out the window, unsure what he was supposed to see. “Who, Highness?”

  “The army,” Granzer growled. “They're still in Agabdal. They were supposed to leave today.”

  Delbur peered out through the age-distorted glass. They were near the top of the palace tower, the tallest structure in the Domdur heartland, and one of the few in Seidabar that gave a view over the walls; Delbur could see the rooftops of the Inner City, the black barrier of the city wall, and off in the distance, almost lost in smoke and haze, the jagged skyline of Agabdal. Beyond that, right on the horizon, a thin line of sea shone silver.

  To the right of Agabdal's center he could make out the great military camps as a confusion of mud-brown and dull yellow sprinkled with tiny specks of red – red tunics on the soldiers, red banners flying.

  How Granzer could take one quick glance at that and determine that the army had not marched Delbur did not know, but he wasn't about to argue.

  “I don't understand,” he said.

  “It's that idiot Shoule,” Granzer said wearily. “He's finally convinced that Lord Niniam isn't a traitor, so now he thinks Lord Kadan and Lady Vamia are conspiring to overthrow the Empire.”

  “Lady Vamia?”

  Granzer nodded. “Haven't you noticed that her explanation of her whereabouts keeps changing? I assume the truth is that she was trysting with someone else's husband, but she's not about to admit that. She was the one who got Prince Zolous out of the palace.”

  “Oh,” Delbur said. “Then you think...”

  “No, I don't!” Granzer bellowed. “Shoule does. Shoule's seeing traitors everywhere. He's tied up half the city guards hunting for Olnamian spies. Now he's decided, with Orbalir's connivance, that Lord Kadan is in Rebiri Nazakri's pay – or perhaps the reverse – and that the Imperial Army's marching into a trap.” He turned away from the window and began pacing angrily around the room. “It's nonsense. Lord Kadan's no more a traitor than I am, and the delay this will cause is unconscionable. The vanguard can't hold the enemy forever; they're outnumbered, they're fighting magic...”

  “But what if it is a trap?” Delbur asked.

  “If it is, it's not Kadan's doing,” Granzer replied. “But it might be one. And the Empress...” He sighed, and stopped pacing. He rubbed his temples wearily.

  Delbur waited silently.


  “I thought this was going to be a good day,” Granzer said at last. “I thought the army would finally be on its way, and we'd be on our way to ending this crisis. I thought the Empress was resting well, and we would have time yet before Graubris had to worry about accepting the crown. I was looking forward to taking care of some old business, getting caught up, looking into the fire some more. Then Beretris started coughing over breakfast.”

  Delbur made a sympathetic noise.

  Granzer sighed. “I'll need to talk to them,” he said. “We all will. Convene the Council, Delbur. And you might mention...” A thought struck him. “Did anyone ever tell Lord Graush about that smith?”

  “I don't know, Highness.”

  “Well, someone should. Graush is still looking for our divine champion, isn't he?”

  “I believe so, Highness.”

  “Well, tell him to look at the Armory, then.”

  Granzer marched out the door, headed for the stairs, with Delbur close on his heels.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Malledd?” The shout was not up to the Master's usual standards, and Malledd had barely heard it over the pounding of the apprentices' hammers, but he looked up from his forge without thinking.

  He thought he had finally gotten the knack of sword-smithing; the trick was in tempering the edge, getting it hard but not brittle, and he was sure he was getting the feel of it. The blade he had just finished was, he thought, a good one – definitely worth keeping, at any rate, and he wanted to test it. He wished he could have pretended he hadn't heard his name, but the Master had caught his eye, and he couldn't defy the Master. He put down the blade and the polishing cloth and crossed the hall.

  Last time the Master had come in here shouting his name had been three triads ago, when Malledd had been hauled off to the Imperial Palace. He hoped this new summons wasn't the start of another interview with Prince Granzer.

  In fact, as he neared the door, a thought struck him and he almost stumbled.

  If it were Prince Granzer, and the Prince asked him again if he were the chosen of the gods, he could no longer truthfully say he didn't know. He couldn't explain why he was still in Seidabar when the champion's proper place was almost certainly out at the Grebiguata.