"General," said Aeswiren, using the language of the Land.
Toshak's eyebrows rose at hearing that tongue from the mouth of a man. Nuza had taught this one well. "Great King. You will have to pardon me, I cannot help my feelings. I find it hard to offer any man a welcome to the Land. We have suffered nothing but horror from men."
Toshak spoke too quickly, however, for Aeswiren to understand. Confused, the Emperor looked to Nuza. She translated into Shashti.
"General Toshak says that it is a difficult moment for him. There is great emotion, great pain from our losses."
Aeswiren nodded slowly, then spoke in the tongue of the Land. "I know. I wish to end all of that."
Toshak blinked on hearing these words. Some of the fury that burned in him turned to curiosity.
"Those are the best words I have heard in a long time. I give thanks to the Spirit." This time he had spoken much more slowly. Aeswiren nodded to show he understood, then replied, "How much do you know of the situation?"
"Which situation? On Mauste?"
Aeswiren shot a glance to Nuza at hearing this name.
"Lord," said Nuza, "Mauste is our name for the island where the fleet has set up its base."
"Ah, yes, that situation, too, but I refer to the larger scene involving myself."
Toshak looked to Nuza. She had seen him react to her use of the men's tongue. Now he heard Aeswiren's words and wondered at them.
"What does this mean, dearest Nuza?"
She gathered herself. Toshak must know the whole truth.
"The Great King is in exile himself. He has been overthrown. They tried to kill him, but he survived, and he still has the power to end the war. He has come here to take control of the expedition army, then take it back to Shasht and defeat his enemies with it."
There was a long moment of silence as Toshak absorbed this. He had suspected as much when he'd received Nuza's message.
"Well," he said dryly, "that rather reduces his value to us, but, better he is here late than that he never came at all to visit the scene of carnage his forces have unleashed."
Aeswiren understood enough of this to know it was time to keep his silence. Toshak must make up his own mind. The anger was to be expected.
Toshak had balled his fists so tightly, the muscles stood out on his neck. He stared upward as if seeking some advice from the heavens, or a whisper from the Spirit. Nuza watched him, not knowing whether he would accept Aeswiren's offer.
At last he relaxed and, with no further ado, took the Emperor's hand in his and they shook, brown-skinned hand of man and the grey-furred hand of mot. Nuza saw Aeswiren's eyes tighten as Toshak revealed his strength.
"Welcome, then, Great King," said Toshak, speaking slowly. "For I have just now learned that you are a fugitive and in need of shelter."
Aeswiren cast a sharp glance in Nuza's direction. She saw that he had realized that his ability to manipulate the situation was limited by his need for her to translate. That he was a deposed fugitive was information he would rather not have had Toshak know just yet.
"Thank you, General Toshak. I do not intend to trouble you more than is absolutely necessary. The men in my army will listen to me. I am confident of that. They will give me a hearing, and then I think they will rally to my cause."
"What will you offer them?"
Aeswiren's face creased into a grim smile. "Years of suffering, toil, bloodshed. War, in a word, but in the end the opportunity to overthrow the priesthood and change Shasht forever."
Toshak blinked, then glanced at Nuza.
Aeswiren continued. "I will offer them a war of liberation. I have learned a great secret, which I shall pass on to them."
Toshak looked to Nuza once more to be sure he was hearing this correctly. "Secret?"
"Yes, please listen to him, dear Toshak."
Aeswiren now spoke passionately, and when he stumbled, Nuza helped the words along.
"Once our land was almost as lush as yours. Our peoples were mostly peaceful. There were wars, but they were small in scale. Our population was stable, and we had both gods and goddesses. Our lives were governed by the round of festivals in their name and the liturgy of their worship.
"Then came the Empire. A man named Kadawak arose in the Old Kingdom of Shasht. At first he was but an officer of the small army kept by the royal house. He usurped the throne and began a war that lasted ten years. When it ended, he became the First Emperor. In the city he erected a pyramid to the new god, He Who Eats, Orbazt Subuus.
"He changed many things. Women could no longer go forth in the street. They lost all rights and became chattels of their husbands. Thousands of prisoners of war and captive women were used as breeding stock for slaves. Slaves became cheap. It was a popular policy."
Nuza observed that Toshak frowned at hearing of such evil.
"We do not have this thing, slavery, that you speak of."
"I know. Nuza told me."
And there it lay, the polar difference between the world of Shasht and that of the Land. To exploit one's fellow beings in such a way was unworthy, degrading to both sides of the division.
Toshak gave her another sharp look. She knew he was wondering about the relationship that had grown up between the Emperor and herself.
"The real problem, alas, was that the increase in slavery was popular with certain social classes among the population. Common property was seized under the law. Old traditions were overthrown and women enslaved. On the altars of the temple to He Who Eats, they began to tear open men and rip out their hearts to offer to the Great God."
Nuza shivered, just listening to Aeswiren describe all this. She saw that Toshak winced before replying.
"We have learned of this from men taken prisoner. They tell us of your so-called 'Great God' who demands fresh hearts from his worshippers. Your world seems to have nothing but ugliness and horror. Bare land, poverty and starvation, endless war and slavery."
There was a long moment of silence. Aeswiren, just in sailing this coast, had seen the differences between the two lands. This world was verdant, alive with life, lush with great forests, and already peopled. Shasht was a dry husk.
"Yes," Aeswiren admitted. "However, many live in luxury, especially in the cities, and they have gained great wealth. They support the Empire and the priesthood.
"But what they don't know, what nobody knows except the Emperors and a tiny group among the priesthood, is that there has always been a secret ruler, a hidden power that has ruled over all the Emperors since the beginning."
Toshak's eyebrows shot up for a moment. Then his eyes tightened to slits as he looked to Nuza for confirmation of these words. She nodded. This was Aeswiren's understanding, which, though it sounded incredible, he believed wholeheartedly.
Aeswiren continued, "It is a power that sits inside the pyramid. It rules through the priesthood, and it always has. It is the intelligence that informs Shasht society."
"What form does this thing take?"
"It is that of a man, very old when I saw him. He has ruled for hundreds of years, living on while dynasties have come and gone."
Toshak muttered to himself, then spoke clearly. "The Assenzi were right, then. I think this is what the old ones spoke of. They called it 'Karnemin.'"
"The Assenzi?" said Aeswiren. "They are the very old ones, who help your rulers. Nuza has spoken to me about them."
"They are not mots and they are not men, some say they are not actually alive like you or me. They are built of magic, perhaps."
"And they know of this man I speak of, which we call 'the Old One'?"
The name struck them both with its implications.
"Yes. They say they knew him long long ago, in the time of ice." And they, too, are the "old ones," Toshak wanted to say, but did not.
Aeswiren stood stockstill, drinking in the enormity of what he was hearing. The ice was barely a memory in Shasht, a thing of legend from long ago.
"Then this thing has lived far longer than our E
mpire. Far longer than the Old Kingdoms."
"And your people know nothing of it?"
"Only the inner circle of the high priests really knows. It is most dangerous knowledge to have."
"I see." And Toshak did.
Aeswiren looked at Nuza for a moment. He had seen the strange symmetry of the two forces. Nuza saw it, too.
"The expedition to your land was not my policy. It was a policy I inherited when I took the throne. For many years I bottled it up. I refused to spend money on a huge fleet of ships. But in the end they got around me. Politics is like that. When there's money to be spent, a way will be found to spend it."
Toshak understood this very well. Since the war's beginnings he had been forced into the financial and economic planning circles of both Dronned and Sulmo. The politics surrounding a royal budget had become crystal clear to him.
"But the Old One wanted it, that was the essential thing. He always pressed me to finish the fleet and send it. He wanted this war."
Toshak was nodding. "This thing you talk of, it wants to destroy us and the Assenzi."
"We are but pawns on an ancient chessboard."
Nuza watched the two of them as they came to grips with this vast, terrible realization.
The ancient thing that ruled in Shasht had forced the men to build an Empire and then used that Empire to build a fleet that was designed to destroy inhabitants of the Land and the Assenzi.
"The Assenzi are its real target, then. But there is a difference between our wise old helpers and this 'Old One' of yours. For this figure behind your Empire does his work in secret. We can judge from its results that it is foul work, the cause of endless bloodshed. But the Assenzi have usually done their work among us in the open."
"Usually?"
"At times there have been crises that have called for them to intervene in hidden ways. They have sought stability above everything, and our world has been without change for aeons."
"You have been held back. The men of Shasht have been pushed forward. We have all been made into puppets." Aeswiren slammed a fist into a palm. "I say it is time to end it. Let the ancient ones fight their own battles."
"I have a question," said Toshak. "Who made the policy that causes men to kill my people and eat them? Why do men eat our children?"
Aeswiren blanched. He remembered when the orders for that policy were given. He remembered that he signed them blithely, thinking that it meant nothing. The inhabitants of this mythical land that the priests wanted to conquer were but animals. If the men ate them, then so be it. Men got hungry, and animals were food.
"It was a policy put forward by the priests. They said that animals of abomination inhabited the new lands and that they should be consumed as food."
It was hard to translate "abomination" into the language of the Land. With Nuza's help, they came up with "evil in the form of unbearable wrongness."
The hate came back to Toshak's eyes.
Aeswiren met it, accepting the dark cloud. Then he put his right hand to his chest before speaking. "The guilt for this evil will never leave me. I accept my responsibility. I say only that I signed the order in ignorance. But this I swear: I will put an end to all killing. Men under my command will no longer attack your people without suffering just punishment."
After a long moment of silence, Toshak nodded, accepting the Emperor's words on their face value. "I would expect you to do no more than that. But what, I wonder, can be done to make up for what your men have already done to us?"
"It can never be made up. I know that. But when I regain my throne, I will begin a program of compensation for your injuries. If it is within my strength and power to do it, I will make things whole again. For the lost lives, and other injuries, there is no power in the world that can repair them."
It was a long speech for Aeswiren, and his control of word order was not exact, but his sincerity glowed in his eyes. Nuza saw that Toshak had been moved by it. She gave thanks to the Spirit.
"So," said Toshak, "how can I help you, Emperor?"
"I need to know how my forces here are disposed. They are based on an island to the south, called Mauste, I believe you said."
"Yes. Most of the ships are moored there. But others raid our coasts and supply the forts on the shores of Sulmo."
"Yes, you mentioned these forts before, to Nuza. How many are they and where can I find them?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
The audaciousness of it was the key. That's why the men would know it was him. Who else would dare something like this? Only old Aeswiren, the legendary fighter who came back three times from defeat to win everything in the end. Only Aeswiren, who'd taken ten thousand beaten men and made them into an army that won an Empire. Only Aeswiren, who'd risen from defeat to win victory at Kaggenbank.
Audacity and his own legend, that was what he had in his favor.
His guides had faded back into the undergrowth. These young mots were clad in a camouflage fabric so effective that he could hardly see them in the woods at a distance of twenty feet.
It was time.
He strode out from behind the last tree and started for the fort. The ground was rough, stippled with tree stumps, littered with broken branches. When he was less than two hundred yards from the gate, somebody on the tower gave a yell.
Aeswiren noted that the fort was well built. The gate was solid, with proper stockade construction. The ditch was deep. Aeswiren smiled at seeing the professional quality on display. Good fortifications had always been something he'd prided himself on.
He wondered how many archers on that wall had him in their sights right then. At this range, the sharpshooters would not miss. He waved a hand, continued a steady walk.
They'd seen that he was a well-dressed man with a shining helmet and burnished breastplate. Those would tip them off that he was an officer, at the least.
"Who goes there?" roared a voice from the gate.
He stopped, raised both arms and roared back, "I am Aeswiren."
This produced a harsh bark of laughter, followed by: "Oh, sure, and I'm a monkey's arsehole. Stop playing around. Who are you? And how did you get here?"
Aeswiren laughed, waved a hand, and kept walking. "Meet me at the gate," he called. "Are there any veterans among you?"
"Veterans? Plenty of 'em. We're Third Regiment here."
"Ah, the fighting Third. I know you well. You were at Kaggenbank."
There was a sudden silence on the top of the wall. The gate opened a crack.
"All right, approach the gate. Let's have a look at you."
A number of men had climbed up to the parapet gatehouse to take a look at this phenomenon, a man come alive out of the woods. It hadn't happened before. Men went out into the woods, they died in the woods.
"You don't look like a scout," said a voice from the wall. "How'd you make it out of there? The monkeys kill our scouts."
"Look at that breastplate," said another voice. "Look at that helmet. That's gold chasing, my friend. Very expensive."
"It's one of the generals, then? The ones that were captured."
"Maybe. You, step closer."
The man with the gold chasing on his helmet stepped up to the gate.
The corporal of the gate detail, old Pils Heeber, pushed forward to do the talking. "All right, all right. Now, excuse me, sir, whoever you are, you have to forgive us. We've never seen anyone walk out of the forest like that. Scouts have only come back at night. The monkeys are always out there."
"Ah, yes. Well, boys, I think we're going to see an end to all that pretty soon. I expect you're tired of being stuck out here."
"Sir, as long as they feed us, we're proud to do our duty. Ain't we, boys?"
They gave loud assent.
Sergeant Kaffee had dragged himself away from lunch, a kedgeree and a fish pudding. "All right, what's all this? Why is this gate open? Are we going to let in every sodomistic monkey in the fornicating woods?"
Corporal Heeber turned around quickly.
"What?"
Then Sergeant Kaffee got a clear look at the man in his high-class metal finery. The sergeant felt his jaw drop. He felt his pulse race. His knees wobbled.
Sergeant Kaffee had served in the Emperor's personal guard five years back. He'd volunteered for the colony expedition from the guard. It had been regarded back then as a privilege, a chance to get out of Shasht and forge a new life in a land without the weight of Shasht society holding a man down.
"Open the gate!" the sergeant bellowed. He slammed to attention and thrust his arm up in the imperial salute.
The others stopped laughing and looked at him aghast.
"Sir!" roared Sergeant Kaffee in his best parade-ground voice. "Begging your pardon, sir. I had no idea, sir. Sergeant Kaffee, Third Regiment, reporting, sir!"
Corporal Heeber was looking at Kaffee like he expected the sergeant to start barking next. "What's that about, Sergeant?"
"You idiot," hissed Sergeant Kaffee, "that is the Emperor Aeswiren. I served in his guard. I know that's him."
Aeswiren allowed himself a little grin as he heard this. It had been a hell of a gamble, but the first piece of luck had come his way. He'd run into a veteran right off. Someone who had actually seen the Emperor Aeswiren at close quarters and recognized him at once.
The other men still hesitated. Kaffee spoke up again in his parade-ground voice. "Sir, begging your pardon, sir. I was in your personal guard during the time of the fishermen riots."
"You was in the guard, Sarge?" asked Corporal Heeber.
"Oh, shit!" said someone a little too loudly.
"Sir!" said Corporal Heeber, finally coming to attention and raising his hand in the imperial salute.
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