“Or, you play nice and behave yourself better than you’ve managed, and we can put you up in more luxurious accommodations than you deserve. Feed you figs and tea and tasty honey crepes, wear powdered slippers if you like, lay your head down on a fluffy pillow, or whatever pleasantries you think a man of your station should be afforded. Your treatment depends completely on you. So far, it’s looking more likely you’ll end up in a hole. But I like a good surprise. Think you can surprise me and rein in your mouth, High Priest?”
Henlester’s smile slid off his face, and his lips pressed so tight the wrinkles surrounding his mouth seemed to quiver. But then he mustered a smallish bow. “I shall endeavor to be docile and demure, Commander Darzaak. It might take some practice, I am afraid, but I will try.”
“And I will try not to clap you in irons or drop you in our Trench.” Darzaak waved over some guards. “Escort our elite prisoner here to his quarters. See to it he wants for nothing. Except freedom, of course.”
Henlester turned about quickly and strode ahead of his guards, as if he were familiar with the way and were leading them.
The Tower Commander watched the door shut before shaking his head and looking at Braylar. “You never seem to capture anyone pliable. Why is that?”
“Well,” Braylar said, “that is likely due to the fact that most of my snares involve the puissant, and not millers and bakers.”
Darzaak sat down at the large table and looked surprised he was the only one. “Oh, be seated.”
Braylar and his men took chairs at the large table, and I grabbed an open seat next to Vendurro.
The Commander jerked a gray-haired thumb toward the door. “So. I got your note about playing the priests against the baron, and I seem to recall you mentioning that there was more to it than that. You suspected that puckered arse might actually be key to something bigger. I’m guessing you didn’t haul him all the way back here on account of his pleasant demeanor. So what of it, Captain?”
Braylar said, “As to the first, when the good Emperor chose to pull us out of Anjuria with no notice, he likely undermined much of our good work there. I chose to kidnap the cleric in part to see what we can salvage there, if the goal is still to destabilize the barony.”
“As far as I know, nothing’s changed there. And as to the second…”
Braylar opened his mouth to respond but Darzaak cut him off. “Wait. Before we get to that, we ought to make our introductions here.” Darzaak fixed his eyes on me. “You know who I am. Can’t say as I know you. And you look awful scribey. Would you be Arkamondos then, called Arki?”
Everyone at the table looked in my direction, and I swallowed hard. “I am.” And then added, “Commander Darzaak. The scribe, that is. Arki.”
“So, Arki, does it make you nervous that the two in line ahead of you died?”
Well. That was direct. I replied, “I can’t speak to the others, Commander, never having met them at all. They must have been capable enough, or the captain would not have hired them in the first place. But I’m also confident there were good reasons they failed to hold the position for very long. So long as I perform admirably, I suspect my chances of survival are at least… better than awful.”
That earned a chuckle from Hewspear and Vendurro, and smiles from Braylar and Mulldoos. The commander, however, wasn’t especially moved to merriment. “Tell me, then, Arki, are you a trustworthy sort?”
“Yes, Commander—yes, sir. I believe so.”
“Believe or would have me believe?”
“Both, if it please you.”
Darzaak turned to Braylar. “So what of it, Captain? I’m assuming you would have killed the boy yourself if he troubled you overmuch. But let me hear it from you now. What makes you think the third will be any better than the previous traitors?”
Braylar replied, “Our young scribe nearly shot me. Twice, as it happens. But in both instances, he did so attempting to save my life. He has served admirably, translating the treasure we have collected. And he had opportunity to wander over to our enemy’s camp, and chose not to.
“And as to trustworthiness, the first scribe’s only lapse of honesty was exaggerating some of his skills. He wasn’t as competent as I was led to believe, but he did not betray us—the simple sod happened to walk into the path of an arrow that was made for me. His crime was clumsiness. It was only the second who actually tried to sell us out. Arki did not fail such a test. He is loyal. Though clumsy as well, which does cause me some consternation, I must confess. But we could easily be on our fourth scribe by now. And we are not.”
The Tower Commander looked at Hewspear and Mulldoos. “Are you of the same mind as your captain here?”
Hewspear said, “I have been wagering on his worth since I met him, and he has not disappointed yet. He even managed not to get himself killed in a few fights, which is somewhat miraculous when you consider his limitations on that score.”
Mulldoos looked at me, pale eyes unreadable, but never comforting. After a long pause, he replied, “I trust my brothers in arms in the Jackal Tower. I trust Cap. That’s where my trust begins and ends. Scribbler here ain’t a Syldoon. Never could be one in a thousand years.” I thought that was the end of it, until Mulldoos added, “But he does have more mettle and grit than you would suppose, just looking at the skinny bastard. And he’s proved useful a time or two.” He said this last grudgingly, but at least he said it. “Do I trust him? No, not a brother, like I said. Do I distrust him?” He shrugged his big shoulders. “Not as much as most.”
“A ringing endorsement,” Hewspear said.
“Considering he’s only been in the company a short while, it’s as like to be as ringy-dingy as he’ll get. And if any of you halfwits was being square here, you’d admit the same.”
Darzaak considered everything, staring at his hands on the table for a moment. “Fair enough. So, Arki, your good captain here managed to acquire quite a bit of old parchment by all accounts. Were you able to translate it then?”
“No. That is, yes, I translated a good amount of it, but not all. Not yet.”
The Commander looked at Braylar. “Not used to doing debriefings, is he?”
Braylar gave the smallest of smiles. “He is smarter than he looks—I swear it. Arki, explain what you uncovered so far.”
I had my writing case in my lap, but everything else had been carted off with the chests of documents. “Of course, Captain. But my notes—”
“Aren’t necessary, just now. The Commander doesn’t want every little detail. Only what you discovered about the Temple of Truth, and their efforts to control the memory witches of yesteryear. Broad strokes if you would, yes?”
I noted that he pointedly did not mention Bloodsounder, or what I assumed were related weapons that had been referenced, like the sword Grieftongue. And so after collecting my thoughts, I recapped as best I could.
When I was finished, Tower Commander Darzaak looked at Braylar again. “So. The puckered arse then. Was he able to elaborate at all?”
“He was indeed,” Braylar replied. “According to him, the underpriest Anroviak was burned alive after his trial. Which should have dissuaded any from continuing that line of thinking or research. The Temple continued hunting and killing the witches. But there was another priest who discovered some of those early records. Likely the very same Anroviak memoir that survived to this day, and some other documents as well. And this priest, Untwik, carried on Anroviak’s work on the sly. And apparently made some headway.”
“Discovered the frames, didn’t they?”
Hewspear said, “Well, the Syldoon have a long history of appropriating ideas from other cultures and improving on them. We simply didn’t know it was this long.”
Darzaak nodded. “So the Anjurians controlled themselves a few witches. We figured as much already, our own accounts hinted at it. But good to substantiate. Still leaves the real big question, though, the one I sent you boys prowling around there for in the first place… did they figure out how
to siphon control, steal it from someone else? Break it, rebind it? Anything like that?”
“That’s actually several questions, Commander,” Braylar said.
“Same question in different clothes, more like.”
“Fair enough. The answer to one and all is no, not that we discovered. Henlester professed no knowledge of anything like that, and though he is a slippery eel, everything he volunteered corroborated what Arki had already learned. So I am inclined to believe him. Though you could certainly put him to the Memoridons to test that theory. But either way, Arki still has at least one chest to go through. We might yet unearth what we’re looking for.”
The Tower Commander nodded slowly. “Aye. That we might.” He didn’t sound convinced. Then he said, “You’ve done good work. I’ve read the reports—you’ve suffered losses, and likely more besides since those were penned. The Emperor in his infinite wisdom might have fucked you in the ear some, but could be we still find a way to make something out of it.”
Braylar leaned forward in his chair slightly, gripped the edge of the table. “So why did the Emperor recall us? What is happening here?”
“Wasn’t just you. Cynead summoned back every operative in the plaguing field. You might have been the last, but if there is anybody else out there, it doesn’t matter. The Emperor is short on patience and long on pomp. Called for a Caucus of the Towers, two days from now.”
Mulldoos curled his hands into fists and the look on his face said he wished he could use them on someone. “Never a good thing, a Caucus. Always ends bad for somebody or other. What do you suppose he’s planning?”
“Well, last time it was a bloody business, for certain,” Darzaak replied. “No telling what his motive is now—long on pomp and secrecy, I should have said. But no, it’s not like to be a good thing at all.”
Vendurro asked, “Do you suppose he—” He stopped whatever question he had in mind and tried a different route. “Are you thinking it has to do with Thumaar? Should we be planning escape routes?”
Braylar shook his head. “No, he would have dealt with that in the dark, and only announced anything of the sort after he had rooted out the opposition and destroyed them. Not cause for a Caucus. He has another play in mind. He wouldn’t recall every operative, summon the Towers like this, unless it was something bigger.”
Darzaak agreed and added, “Most of what you boys have been doing was the continued work Thumaar started years ago. To be frank, I am surprised Cynead let you back into Anjuria after Thumaar was ousted. No, I suspect Captain Killcoin has the right of it. The Emperor recalling the lot of you is a bold move, but it serves a larger purpose. And that puts me at ease about as much as sticking my cock in a hornet’s nest.” He stopped and looked at me again. “Get yourself cleaned up, Arki. A bath if you like one. Some food, some rest. Then we need you back to it. Keep translating. Dismissed.”
I stood awkwardly, nearly dropped my writing case, and nodded. “Yes, Commander Darzaak.” I wasn’t sure where to go, and was reluctant to ask.
Darzaak must have seen it on my face. “Ven, show him the way.”
Vendurro stood up alongside me. “Aye, Commander.”
“Oh, and lad?”
Vendurro had been starting toward the door, turned and stopped.
“I was might sorry to hear about Gless. He was a good soldier.”
Vendurro straightened up, nodded. “Appreciate that, Commander. Appreciate that.”
As we walked down the corridor, I said, “As always, I feel as if there are a hundred things I have no understanding of.”
Vendurro laughed. “A hundred? Try a thousand. This is Sunwrack—even them of us who spent most of our lives here have no idea what’s happening half the time, or like to happen two days from now. Place ain’t called Capital of Coups on accident. Towers eliminate Towers, form alliances, break them just as quick, all positioning for power or to keep someone else from seizing it. It’s actually worse when we ain’t at war. Nothing brings the Syldoon together like a common enemy.”
“Or a Caucus apparently. What is that exactly? I would have thought the Tower Commanders convened with the Emperor regularly. Or at least not so irregularly it would raise eyebrows when it happened. But this isn’t that, is it? What’s happening?”
“Towers operate real independent, most of the time. Twice a year they get together, regular like you said. But a Caucus is something else. Only the Emperor can call for one. All the Tower Commanders have to be present unless they’re dead or dying. Them and their captains and chief officers. Failure to show is treason.”
I understood Soffjian’s urgency a little more in herding us here—clearly she knew or guessed what was going on. We started down the stairs. “So if we hadn’t made it back in time…?”
Vendurro was taking the stairs two at a time. “Awww, no. They wouldn’t have hunted us down or nothing. Cap’s a big man, for certain, but no Tower Commander. But it would have looked mighty queer, just the same. A Memoridon comes calling and cracking the whip, Syldoon best kick the spurs in. Especially if it smells like the summons is coming from the Emperor, not the Tower Commander hisself.”
“Can I ask you something, Vendurro?”
He led me down a hall. “Course you can. If you don’t mind much whether I answer or not.”
“Are you worried about the Caucus? Sounds like something we should be worried about. Only you didn’t seem particularly bothered.”
“‘We’ is it?” He stopped and looked at me, gave a half-smile.
“Well, I might never be a Syldoon. As Mulldoos pointed out, clearly I am not cut out for it. But my lot is tied to the captain’s, all of yours, as far as that goes. So, I suppose—”
“Only teasing you, bookmaster.” I relaxed as he said, “Caucuses, Emperors, Tower Commanders, that’s all above me. I’m just a soldier.” He pointed up at the corbelled hall ceiling. “Leave all that for them to figure out. I just do my job, best as I can. I trust Cap and Hew and Mull to do right by me and the other boys.”
We turned a corner, passing a Syldoon slave girl who gave me a queer look. “I’ve heard Thumaar’s name a few times now. He was the deposed emperor, wasn’t he?”
“Was indeed. Capital of Coups.”
“But not killed?”
“Nope, Thumaar’s alive and kicking. And like most that been on a throne and lost it, itching mighty fierce to reclaim it.”
I supposed most deposed rulers would be, but still asked, “How do you know that for certain?”
“Oh, Jackal Tower is trying to help him do it.”
He said it so nonchalantly, it took me a moment to register the enormity packed into such a small phrase. “You what?!” I nearly shouted, and then quieted myself and tried it again. “You’re trying to reinstate him?”
“Ayyup. We’re Thumaar’s men. Some other Towers feel the same. Thumaar was twice the emperor Cynead is. Quick to a flask, a laugh, or revenge, he was. A hard man, but fair. We can get him back where he belongs, we will.”
I looked up and down the hall, wondering if he should be proclaiming open treason so unabashedly.
“Oh, we’re among Jackals here, Arki. Out there, we bite our tongues and smile pretty and salute proper, but every man here will piss on Cynead’s corpse if we get half a chance.”
“But… but aren’t you worried about the Caucus and what it might mean, then? What if Cynead has gotten word that you are working against him?”
“Like I said—bigger problems for bigger men. We oust Cynead, or we die trying. It works out, or it doesn’t. Truth be told, I’m a lot more bothered by what I got to do on the morrow than any Caucus the day after.”
I thought about it, trying to puzzle out his meaning, when I recalled what the Tower Commander had said and remembered that losing a comrade wasn’t the end of things. At least not for Vendurro. “So, you’re going to see the widow tomorrow then?”
Vendurro looked at his feet, rubbed the back of his head vigorously. “I should go today. Still got
a little sun yet. And tomorrow won’t be no better. Might even be worse, when it comes to it. But I ain’t seen my Towermates in a long time. Right now, I’m fixing to go see my brothers, drink too much, and lose more coin than I can afford.” He looked up quickly. “Don’t worry none, though. I’ll keep the widowcoin in a separate purse. I might make a woman weep and slap me tomorrow, but I’ll be thrice damned if I don’t at least offer her her due. Knowing Mervulla, she’ll throw it in my face. Before or after trying to rake my eyes out. Proud woman, and angry more often than not. Could be next time you see me, I’ll have a patch. Maybe two, blinder than those poor Hornmen bastards.”
He was trying to make light, but it was obviously forced.
“I can still come with you. If you like. If it makes it any less, well, if it makes it more bearable. Easier.”
Vendurro stopped in front of a door, took a deep breath. “That’s good of you, Arki. Mighty good. And it means a lot. But Commander Darzaak was cracking the whip on getting through the rest of those scrolls and whatnot. Wouldn’t want to take you away from that.”
I nodded, feeling relieved, as it was likely to be an intimate meeting and I would only be an intruder, but also guilty, as it was clear Vendurro was shouldering a burden. “I’m sure I can spare a little time. It’s not like we have to travel back to Alespell to see her, right?”
Vendurro puffed out his cheeks, then exhaled slowly. “Wishing I could let you. But this is something I got to see through myself. My duty to do. Still, means more than I can say you offering like that.” He checked the door, found it unlocked, and pushed it in. “Looks like the steward got here first. You’ll be bunking in Cap’s spare room. No telling if they dusted it or not, but other than being locked up for a few years, ought to be fine.”
Veil of the Deserters Page 46