Reap the East Wind

by Glen Cook

  Here. And a window shattered behind the King. A vast chill filled the room.

  The Unborn had come.

  It was a thing that looked like a fetus inside a globe of crystal, but no human fetus was ever that big...

  Mist squeaked, dismayed. “Do you know how much good glass costs, Varthlokkur? When you can find a decent glazier? I thought we were on the same side.”

  “I wasn’t the first to forget.” He beckoned. The Unborn drifted over and hung behind his left shoulder, its infant eyes open and wise in the ways of evil, filled with malice. “I can’t prove anything, of course, but I’m morally certain that the King and I weren’t supposed to return from our little jaunt into the east.”

  “I’ll interrogate Lord Ch’ien. Perhaps he exceeded his instructions.”

  “Perhaps. But I doubt it.”

  The King said, “When people mess with me I get mean. Mist, you and your friends are going to be my guests for a while.”

  The Unborn stirred slightly, bobbing behind Varthlokkur’s shoulder. Mist glanced at the thing and grimaced. “For how long? I’m involved in two desperate wars.”

  “Two?” Lord Hsung asked.

  “Eastern Army was beaten. Northern Army may not hold. Lord Ssu-ma has performed brilliantly, but even genius has its limits. The eastern front is about to collapse.”

  Bragi smiled. “Ask me how much I care. The worse the whipping you take, the lighter the weight on my back.”

  Varthlokkur made another warning gesture. “Not so belligerent, my friend.”

  Mist said, “This threat has big dreams, Bragi. It won’t be satisfied with us. It hates the world.”

  “Come on.”

  “These are armies of the dead. They have no love for the living.”

  Varthlokkur felt the snakes wakening in his belly, felt the color leave his face. The Unborn stirred, disturbed by his emotion. That damned mess out east... It wouldn’t go away. Were the gods themselves determined to drag him in?

  “Still irrelevant,” Bragi said. “I want to know how to get you to deal straight.”

  Mist took his hand. “I made some rotten deals to put this over, Bragi. The rottenest was to try trapping you. You refuse to understand what you mean to the Tervola. They want your scalp. Bad. I made it as soft a trap as I could, trusting that you’d have your usual luck. And we all got what we wanted. So let’s stay friends.”

  “Okay. For now.”

  Varthlokkur smiled again, both at Mist’s relief and at this flash of the flexibility of the old Bragi. He sighed, “On your way, Radeachar.” And, “Home at last. You realize I haven’t seen my daughter since right after she was born?”

  “I haven’t seen Inger,” the King said. “Let’s get out of here.” But before they departed they reminded their people to keep close watch on Mist and her followers.

  “That was close,” Mist murmured to Lord Hsung. “Why can’t you people be more flexible?”

  “We people, Mistress?”

  “Tervola. Not one of you learned from the example of O Shing. You forced him to go after Ragnarson because of the defeat at Baxendala. So a lot of great Tervola lost their lives. Whole legions were destroyed. And the balance was not rectified. The ignominy was compounded. And now that same obsession has nearly destroyedme... “

  Lord Hsung chuckled. “You forget, I was on the other side.”

  “You represent the sort of thinking that causes the problem. Don’t forget, I’ve been sitting up in Maisak for three years, watching you. You’ve been conspiring with both sides in the fighting in Hammad al Nakir. You’ve been sneaking agents into Kavelin. You’ve been spreading threats and rumors of war just to keep the King on edge. I don’t know how much of that I can tolerate. It could come bad on us like a bad spell.”

  “In time, you’ll tolerate as much as it takes to destroy the man and his cohorts.”

  “Perhaps.” We’ll see, she thought. We’ll see. “We’d better move out of here while he’s in a mood to let us go. Lord Ch’ien! Where is Lord Ch’ien? Isn’t he back yet?”

  Varthlokkur encountered the King in the halls of Castle Krief. “How’s Nepanthe?” Bragi asked.

  “Fine. Just fine.” For a woman spoiling for a fight all the time. For a woman barely in touch with her own world.

  “What about the baby? Decided on a name yet?”

  “She’s perfect. No, we haven’t.”

  “Something bothering you? You look distracted.”

  “A lot of things. But mainly Nepanthe.”

  “Still nagging you about Ethrian, eh?”

  “Mostly.” The wizard resumed walking, leaving the King wearing a baffled expression.

  Yes, Nepanthe was still nagging about Ethrian. And he was having an ever more difficult time not betraying his suspicions about what was happening in the far east. There was going to be a blowup... Hell, Bragi wouldn’t tell her. He was a politician. He could subvert his friendship for Nepanthe to his need for the aid only a wizard armed with the Unborn could provide.

  Couldn’t he?

  Mist sighed and dragged herself out of the lethargic half-sleep that held her. Gently, she tugged her arm from beneath Aral, sat up, swung her feet to the floor. Dantice snorted, rolled onto his belly. She looked at him fondly.

  It had been pleasant while it lasted. Now it had to end. For real. The moment she returned to Venerable Huang Tain she would come under the closest scrutiny, scrutiny unceasing. It would be a long time before she could do anything without first acquiring the approval of the Council of Tervola.

  She had few illusions about how much power she had acquired in the coup. A great deal, to be sure, but nothing like what her father and uncle had commanded in the days of their Dual Principiate. She would rule, but would have to avoid giving offense. She would have to exercise the greatest care, and would be able to eliminate rivals only with the utmost caution. It would be a generation before she consolidated completely.

  If she survived the first year. She didn’t doubt that there were counterplots afoot already.

  What had the empire come to? All this conspiracy, all this grasping after power-there hadn’t been any of that in her father’s time. He and his brother had ruled for four hundred years and had faced fewer plots than had formed over the two decades since their passing. Was it a sign that the empire was dying? That it was decaying even while it grew?

  She left the bed and, without dressing, sat at her writing desk. She wrote a long missive to the King.

  She repeated her apologies, telling him he had been a good friend throughput her exile. As a gesture, she was going to leave her children in Kavelin.

  She smiled. Crafty witch. Who do you think you’re fooling? He knows you. He knows Shinsan. He’ll realize they’ll be less hostages to fortune if they stay here. He’ll know you’re trying to shield them from the vicissitudes of Shinsan’s politics.

  “Aral? Come on. Wake up. It’s time.”

  He sat up, avoided her eye. He had the look of a whipped puppy. He had asked to go with her, and hadn’t understood when she explained why he couldn’t.

  “Up, soldier. Get yourself dressed.” She began donning her own clothing. She decided to gather a new wardrobe first thing. She couldn’t stroll the places of Venerable Huang Tain clad as Chatelaine of Maisak. Her sojourn in the west, and her having served the western cause during the Great Eastern Wars, would cause her trouble enough. “Here’s a letter I want you to take to the King. Okay?”

  Aral muttered something she didn’t catch. For just a moment she relented. She kissed him. He tried to pull her into the bed. “No. No. Try to understand, dear.” She disentangled herself. At the door, she said, “Good-bye, Aral.”

  It came out sounding more sad than she intended. She wasn’t enjoying this parting.

  Varthlokkur cradled his daughter with his right forearm. His left hand lay folded between his wife’s fingers. He stared out the window at silvery cumulus galleons rushing eastward in ponderous battle array. “Looks like rain
tomorrow.”

  “Something wrong?” Nepanthe asked. “You’re pretty remote.”

  He shifted his attention to the baby’s tiny red face. “You thought of a name yet?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if you’ll like it. What about you?”

  “No. I’ve been distracted.”

  “Distracted? You’re always distracted. Lately you’ve been in another world. What’s wrong?”

  “Trouble.”

  “There’s always trouble here. Vorgreberg breeds it the way other cities breed cockroaches.”

  “This is the King’s trouble.”

  “He’s always in trouble. How about naming her after your mother?”

  “My mother? Smyrena?” That hadn’t occurred to him. “Smyrena. It wasn’t a lucky name.” His mother had been burned at the stake for witchcraft. “I don’t know.” How much did the King suspect? You couldn’t tell a man his wife was behind half his troubles. He might take a poke at you. And the poke Varthlokkur dreaded was a comment about Ethrian to Nepanthe.

  And what of Mist? She couldn’t ignore the eastern situation...

  “There you go again. If you can’t talk to Bragi, tell Derel Prataxis. Bragi will put up with anything from him.”

  “That might do.” But he was thinking of telling Michael Trebilcock. He and Michael understood one another. And Michael had the power todo something...

  “What about the name?” Nepanthe’s eyes were heavy. She wanted an answer before sleep took her.

  “Smyrena will be fine. Mother would be pleased.” He considered the slow cloud castles. “Smyrena it is. Hello, little Smyrena.”

  The infant seemed to smile.

  13 Year 1016afe

  The Fates of Gods and Emperors

  SHIH-KA’I LIMPED UP the last few steps to the top of Lioantung’s wall. Pan ku remained half a step behind, ready to offer support. He avoided suggesting that his master might require it.

  Lord Ssu-ma smiled as he leaned against the battlements. Pan ku need not have been concerned. He was, simply, tired and hobbling on an unexpected corn.

  The countryside was alive with refugees. The city’s civilians were joining them. The air quivered with panic. Shih-ka’i hoped it would not spread to the legions, yet could not banish its touch himself. The disaster on the Tusghus had been more than the loss of a line. It had introduced Shih-ka’i and his officers to real doubt about their ability to defeat the Deliverer.

  “Did I make a wise decision, Pan ku?” He stared eastward. Somewhere in those forests Northern Army was on the attack.

  “You had no choice, Lord. The men might have lost their confidence.”

  “And if it’s another disaster?”

  “Best to find out now. We have to know if it was an isolated incident.”

  Shih-ka’i did not understand what had happened on the Tusghus. That terrible sound had come thundering from the she-bear, shattering the minds and wills of his legionnaires... He’d never heard of anything like it. His secret heart filled with fear when he thought of facing it again. Armed with that weapon, the Deliverer was unstoppable.

  It had to be the thing in the desert. Had to be.

  “Lord,” Pan ku said softly, “Lord Lun-yu.”

  Shih-ka’i watched Tasi-feng labor up the stair. Lord Lun-yu had less energy than he. “Catch your breath.”

  “Last civilians cleared out, Lord,” Tasi-feng reported. “May have problems later. Some prisoners escaped in the confusion.”

  “That was to be expected, I suppose. It’s the lesser risk. Any word from out there?”

  “Still early, Lord, but they seem to be doing well.”

  “No sign of the problem we had on the Tusghus?”

  “None, Lord.” Tasi-feng did not conceal his relief. “Maybe they’re saving it for Lioantung.”

  “Maybe.” Shih-ka’i had some thoughts on the subject. He meant to pursue them... Well, it had to wait. He was needed here until the Deliverer’s intentions became clear.

  Nervous, unable to stand still, Shih-ka’i scanned the sky. “Nice day,” he observed. It was.

  “It’s been nice all summer, Lord.” Tasi-feng scanned the sky too. Flyers would presage the Deliverer’s appearance. Their confidence had been shaken. They had begun to anticipate disaster.

  One of Tasi-feng’s officers appeared later. “Execution has been perfect, Lord. No sign of the doom of the Tusghus. We have a great tactical victory.”

  Shih-ka’i grinned into his mask, smacked a fist against the battlements. “Damn!” he said softly. “By damn! Lord Lun-yu, we’ll stop him yet.”

  Northern Army double-timed through the gates. Their joy was contagious. “They’re slipping discipline,” Shih-ka’i muttered to Pan ku.

  “Justifiable, wouldn’t you say, Lord?”

  “No doubt. No doubt.” Shih-ka’i was elated himself. The battle had gone perfectly. The old confidence had returned. “We’ll stop them here.”

  A messenger approached. “Lord Ssu-ma. Lord Lun-yu begs your presence in the command center.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, Lord.”

  “I’ll be there directly.” Once the messenger departed, “Any ideas, Pan ku?”

  “They’ve been watching the Matayangan front, Lord. Maybe something’s happened there.”

  Something had. Lord Kuo’s hidden armies had taken the offensive. But that was old news. Had Matayanga sprung a surprise of its own?

  Shih-ka’i glanced at the handful of flyers circling above. The siege was about to begin.

  He looked forward to it. Lioantung would be the rock against which the Deliverer would shatter himself. Or Lord Ssu-ma Shih-kaTs last battlefield. He had people developing a strategy to pursue should the city fall, but theirs was a half-hearted effort. The country west of Lioantung was dense with refugees. Populations had been compressed too much for further effective removal from the Deliverer’s grasp.

  The fates of himself, the Deliverer, and quite possibly the empire hung on this old fortress town.

  The senior Tervola had assembled in the command center. Their soft talk faded when Shih-ka’i entered. “Politics again, Lord,” Pan ku whispered.

  “I suspect so.”

  The Tervola made room for him at the tabletop map of the empire. He and his staff had been following the Matayangan war closely of late. It might affect what they could do here.

  The field situation appeared unchanged. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Tasi-feng suggested, “Perhaps we could speak in private?”

  Shih-ka’i peered into the jeweled eyes of Tasi-feng’s mask. “The changing of the guard, eh?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “What’s to be discussed? Nothing’s changed. We have our hands full here. The Deliverer’s dragons are overhead.”

  “Lord... “

  “Your games are your games. We have a job. Let’s stick to it, eh? What’s going on out there can take care of itself. If your candidate wins and doesn’t like me, she can send me back to the Fourth Demonstration.”

  “Lord, we just wanted you to know what was happening. It’s not likely to affect us.”

  “Then talk it out and get back to work. The Deliverer is on his way.”

  “As you command, Lord.” Tasi-feng nodded to someone at the table. The Tervola dispersed.

  “I’ll be on the wall, watching him come up,” Shih-ka’i said. “I don’t want to hear any more politics while I’m commander. Understood?”

  Tasi-feng bowed slightly. “As you command, Lord. We’re perfectly satisfied.”

  The Deliverer’s patrols were encircling the city when Shih-ka’i reached the wall. “What do you think, Pan ku? Send out skirmishers?”

  Pan ku shrugged.

  “No. Of course not. They’re almost done. Make them come to us.” The patrols looked like the dead now. “Time is on our side. Another week and he won’t have anything left.”

  The hours rolled. The sun declined. The moon came out. Shih-ka’i remained r
ooted, watching besiegers who pitched no tents, who lighted no campfires, who merely stood waiting in lines surrounding the city.

  “What will he try, Pan ku?”

  “That sound again, Lord. Something to shake the walls.”

  “I’d say so, too. But we can take that away from him.”

  “Lord?”

  “Hsu Shen... “

  Pan ku pointed. “Someone coming, Lord.”

  A shadow flitted toward them, darting from one pool of darkness to another. Pan ku drew his longsword. Shih-ka’i let his senses reach out, felt no danger. “Easy. I think he’s friendly.”

  Pan ku did not relax. He was not that kind of man.

  The shadow moved more slowly as it came nearer. Shih-ka’i snorted in surprise. “Put that thing away, Pan ku.”

  His batman did as he was told. Reluctantly.

  Their visitor wore Tervola garb, but no mask. The moonlight illuminated his lean, aristocratic face, exposing weariness and fear. “Lord Ssu-ma.”

  “Lord Kuo.”

  “I’ve suffered a turn of fortunes.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Shih-ka’i examined his feelings. He wanted no part of Shinsan’s tortuous politics. He simply wanted to get on with his job. Yet he owed this man. Lord Kuo had given him his chance at a major command. “We’ve tried to avoid getting involved.”

  “Your situation. Is it bad?”

  “Looking better today.” He explained. Lord Kuo nodded thoughtfully. “What brings you to me?” Shih-ka’i asked.

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Kuo did not ask for help directly.

  “Uhm. My officers aren’t your friends.”

  “That’s my own fault.”

  “The situation being what it is, there’s not much I can do.”

  “I understand.”

  “There’s Hsu Shen’s island, Lord,” Pan ku said.

  “Of course. And we were about to go, weren’t we? Lord, I can hide you on the Pracchia’s island in the east. Pan ku. Hsu Shen hasn’t been in contact, has he? He won’t have heard from the plotters?”

  “I think not, Lord.”

  Shih-ka’i had been downplaying Hsu Shen’s presence on the island, hoping the Deliverer would miss it. “All right. We’ll go now. Pan ku, find My Lord a mask. I saw several in the old Seventeenth museum.”