“This is the army!” Amenon said with a low growl. “My responsibility! The single line that stands between Sovar’s overwhelming numbers and the elite of Saekaj! If there was panic in the avenues over the idea of a revolt in the Back Deep over one building of starving idiots, imagine the panic when they realize that some of their protectors are joining this revolt!”
Terian shook his head. This is madness. The army is from Sovar; to expect them to be immune to the events down there simply because you feed them better and pay them better is naiveté at its finest. And also ridiculous. He set his eyes on his father, on the man’s stare, which was blank and now focused out the window nearest him. It’s not going to stop him from agonizing over it, though.
There was little water running down the slope into the Back Deep now, and Terian could hear the wheels of the carriage against the floor as they rolled. He sat there, tapping his gauntleted fingers against his greaves softly as he waited. The slope leveled off, and he heard the sound of the wheels lapping through the water again.
“A squadron should be easy enough to kill,” Sareea said, nearly whisper quiet in her assessment. “They won’t escape.”
“I have no doubt,” Amenon said abruptly but more gently than he might have if Terian had suggested the same. “But this is a problem again of perception. Three men out of the thousands in the Third Army alone is an insignificant number in the scheme of things. Yet our people will only hear alarm, and if there are insurrectionists still hiding here in Sovar, they will receive a message of hope.”
“I don’t know how much hope they’re going to get from three guys,” Terian said dourly, “especially after they meet their end.”
“You don’t much deal in hope, do you?” Dahveed asked him, with the oddest smile.
“This is Sovar,” Terian said, shooting him a smile, “hope is for the upper chamber.”
Dahveed made a low chuckling noise that did not sound particularly genuine. “Hope is wherever you find it. Different people find hope in different things.”
“I would find great hope in knowing that this incident was confined here within the Back Deep,” Amenon said. He retrieved his helm from the seat next to him as the carriage came to a stop. He kicked open the door and was out of the carriage in seconds.
Terian followed, giving only a brief pause to see Dahveed shrug at him. Sareea once more beat him out of the carriage, but this time he found he cared much less.
The slow churning walk back to the army field headquarters was in silence, and Terian spent it looking up at the buildings to see if eyes were still staring out at him. They were. Squadrons were still on every corner, but there was a tension among them now. Probably wondering if one of their own is going to turn on them. Swords rattled in scabbards everywhere, and the smell of extinguished fire lingered. I suppose the poor missed their daily time at the communal ovens. Going to be a cold dinner tonight.
Amenon burst through the door of the army headquarters without preamble or announcement. This time, Terian followed him into a building that had been carved into the cave bottom. The first floor walls were all stone, with planking laid atop them to build the second floor. Terian eyed the planks of old wood and wondered if they had been replaced since the building had been built. Questionable.
“General!” A half dozen dark elves in full armor snapped to attention as Amenon entered. Even if Terian had not known his father well, he could not have missed the displeasure that had crept into his usually controlled expression. The lines radiating out from his eyes and cutting deep trenches into his forehead were evidence to any moderately talented observer that the man was angry. His legend alone should warn them all that saying the wrong thing right now would be a foolish error indeed.
“Explain the situation to me, Colonel,” Amenon said. Terian could see his jaw lock tightly into place when he finished speaking.
A man dressed in dark blue steel armor from head to toe stepped forward and saluted again. “My Lord Lepos, we received word of a squadron that had killed their Lieutenant in the wake of our action here. Rumors reached us—”
“Rumors from where?” Amenon’s words came out tightly wound, the sound of fury coiled around discipline, close to being unleashed.
“We have spies here in Sovar,” the Colonel said, face barely visible under his helm. He hesitated and removed his helm to show the face of a man who had probably been in the army for several centuries. “Three of them came to us, three that live around an intersection a few blocks from here. Hundreds witnessed the altercation that started the incident. The Lieutenant in question gave orders to move to reinforce our position here and was subsequently attacked by his own men. They shouted their reasons for said action rather loudly, according to our spies. This was later confirmed by our other witnesses, who claim that the rebelling soldiers said—”
“That they would not follow a Sovereign who starved his own people and killed them?” Amenon asked, expression curiously neutral.
The discomfort on the Colonel’s face was obvious. “Yes, sir. That is what was said.”
Amenon took a slow breath that was visible even through the slits of his helm, nose flaring. “Where are these insurrectionists now?”
“Dead, sir,” the Colonel said with a sharp bow of the head. “Three squadrons overwhelmed them. We have already resurrected the Lieutenant who was killed and sent for the bodies of the three soldiers to be disposed of.” The Colonel lowered his voice. “I acted swiftly as soon as it became apparent—”
“Yes, thank you, Colonel,” Amenon said abruptly and turned from the man. Without another word, he brushed past Terian and out the door into the street. Terian followed with a wordless salute to the Colonel, who slumped in immediate relief as soon as Amenon was out the door.
“It doesn’t sound too bad,” Terian said as he exited the building. The splash of his metal boots as he tread through the water was muted compared to the sound of troops formations moving through the streets. Officers bellowed orders that rung out through the artificial canyons made by the narrow streets of the Back Deep.
“Doesn’t sound too bad?” Amenon whirled on him. “You are … such a fool. Such a little, little fool.” Flecks of spittle flew from Amenon’s mouth. “Shrawn has spies everywhere. He has already heard, surely. The leap from his mouth to the Sovereign’s ears is as certain as the movement of gossip from one noble lady’s mouth to another’s ear. This could be the end of us.”
“The end of us?” Terian asked, feeling his skepticism set in. “You think he’s going to completely annihilate our house for this foolishness?”
“I am the General of the Armies!” Amenon shouted, bellowing loud enough that it echoed down the street. He lowered his voice. “It falls on me. All of it. Whether I was here or not, whether I was supervising the Third Army or not.” A hand came up as he pushed his teeth together in a horrible grimace. Terian could see his neck muscles bulge and tense beneath the gorget, threatening to burst it.
“I just don’t see it being as bad as you think it is,” Terian said. “I recognize that you need to do everything you can when you’re the number two house to be able to protect yourself and your reputation, but this is a hiccup. Armies cannot exist without soldiers defecting, failing to follow orders—”
“Weak armies suffer from that,” Amenon said, low and with menace. “The Army of the Sovereign marches true. It exists on a foundation of unquestioning loyalty and brutal discipline that leaves every member in absolute certainty that loyalty will be rewarded and disloyalty will result in death. It’s very effective in that regard.” He stepped past Terian and slammed his fist into the rock wall, breaking chips off of it. “We … do not … fail. Ever.”
What do you even say to that? Terian stared as his father, who was now staring at the wall he’d punched. Everyone fails. The Leagues fail people out constantly. You can’t have ten armies without— He blinked. “When did you expand to ten armies?”
“What?
” Amenon asked, frowning at Terian as he looked back over his shoulder. “Recently. Since the Sovereign returned. We were fixed at two before, but—” He bowed his head. “You think this springs from our accommodation to rapid growth?”
“Well, gods, father, how many new recruits did you bring in to make this happen?” Terian asked. “A five-fold increase in the size of the army?”
“We pulled from the Saekaj militia first,” Amenon said, “then from the nobles of Saekaj as well as the existing enlisted men to help form the officer corps. Once we had the bones in place, we expanded enlistments in Sovar. Where before they had been capped, we … loosened things somewhat. Took a few men from the Depths.”
No wonder your army had a problem, Terian thought, watching his father warily. You’ve sifted down to the dregs, thrown them into the field and found them … wanting.
“Lord Amenon!” Terian turned to see a man approaching on the back of vek’tag. He watched with surprise—vek’tag were normally used for pulling wagons, not carrying a single passenger. The spider moved quickly and surely, and the rider seemed to have a good grip on the beast. “I bring a message from Saekaj.”
Terian turned to look at his father. His mouth was open and his tongue was pushing at the side of his cheek as though it were about to burst out, as though he were putting all his unspent fury into it. “Very well,” Amenon’s reply came hushed. “Deliver your message.”
The man on the vek’tag slid off the side, keeping his grip on the reins. He wore silk clothing, and when his boots splashed into the water Terian knew they soaked through. “I bring a message from the Sovereign, Lord Amenon. He requests and requires your presence and that of your heir at the Grand Palace of Saekaj immediately.”
Chapter 47
The Grand Palace of Saekaj was carved out of the farthest wall of the cavern, fine stone work covered in gold and lit with braziers and torches to project light upon its surface. Terian had heard countless people over the years whisper about the Sovereign’s hypocrisy for making his palace a beacon of light, but so far as he knew, no one had ever whispered a word of it to Yartraak’s face.
The carriage rattled as they moved under the portico. The cavern was still seeping, droplets of water falling from above. Terian stepped out onto the cobblestones fired in the kilns of craftsmen and laid end to end to make proper roads in Saekaj. The cave’s dank smell was nearly unnoticeable here, replaced instead by the scent of incense burning from the braziers. Terian wondered if the Sovereign had ordered the expensive oils burned, or if that was something Shrawn had begun in his absence.
Terian glanced at his father. Amenon’s shoulders were slumped as he got out of the carriage, but he straightened his back and raised his head as he stood under the portico. He appeared to be composing himself, preparing for whatever was coming. He did not so much as look at Terian as he stared at the intricately carved doors to the palace. They swept slowly open, pulled by unseen servants as Terian stood with his father staring into the open door.
This can’t be as bad as he thinks. The loss of face in front of the Sovereign concerns him more than it would anyone else.
On the other hand, he didn’t get into the number two manor in Saekaj without taking things like this into consideration.
“Come along,” Amenon said, starting his walk at a fast clip. His legs moved swiftly, and as they entered the palace the smell of the air changed: still incense, but something far different—a deeper aroma now, something that caused Terian’s nose to curl. I don’t remember that being here before.
“This way.” A servant stepped into their path, a broad-shouldered, expressionless dark elf with white hair and blank eyes. He made a motion with his hand gesturing them onward then began to move into a hallway to the right of the foyer. Everything was covered in deep, rich woods, lit by lamps that flickered with more illumination than was common even for the streets of Saekaj.
Terian followed his father, who followed the Sovereign’s servant. They entered an antechamber that Terian vaguely remembered from some ceremony or another he had attended in his youth. The Sovereign’s throne room lies beyond. He stared at the wooden double doors, carved in a style that would not have looked out of place in Sanctuary. He drew a sharp breath at the thought of Sanctuary. This is not the time to be thinking about that place.
The doors cracked open, and once again unseen servants pulled them wide for Terian and his father to enter. A long, sweeping room lay beyond. It stretched like the Great Hall of Sanctuary, and Terian cursed himself again for thinking of the old guildhall. Sconces held metal lanterns on either side of the wall, but they burned darker than the other lights, as though they were burning on the last of the wick.
The room’s floor was all wooden, opulence stretching as far as Terian’s eye could see. The walls were paneled as well, and the blatant show of wealth made Terian think of the throne room as possibly the largest dance floor he had ever seen. That thought forced him to stifle a smile, keeping his lips in straight, unmoving lines, though he felt one corner of his mouth quirk upward.
“Good of you to join us,” the Sovereign’s voice rasped from the throne at the far end of the room. It was massive, carved out of grains of wood both light and dark, mingled together in a stunning display of craftsmanship that would not have been out of place in shops of the finest Reikonosian artisans. Here, in Saekaj, it was unparalleled.
“My Sovereign commands and I leap to obey,” Amenon said, sweeping low in a bow as he continued to cross the distance toward the throne. The room was easily several hundred feet long, and even at their quick pace, Terian and his father were still a great distance from the throne.
Terian could see other shapes in the gloom around the throne. The Sovereign was not covered in darkness as he had been at the ball. Here he was only slightly shrouded in the dark, his figure showing upon the throne. He was nothing like the shape of a dark elf, nor an elf, nor a man—nor like anything Terian had ever seen. Long, thin legs of grey flesh stretched out from the bottom of the throne. His torso was angular and stretched to a thin middle, and bent at the center of the chest as though he had a second waist there. His long arms were almost stick-like, and three-fingered claws rested upon the arms of the throne. His head was shrouded in shadow, but the outline of horn-like protrusions around where Terian suspected a mouth might be were visible, and a third horn seemed to spring from the top of his head and swept forward, curving to match the other two. He’d be a difficult bastard to kiss with those things protecting his face; I wonder how his harem handles it?
“You have not seen my true form before, Terian, son of Lepos?”
As they approached, Terian guessed the Sovereign was at least ten feet tall, if not taller. Taller than Vaste. “No, my Sovereign.” Terian bowed low. “I have only been in your presence when you were shrouded in darkness. I apologize if my eyes offend you by trying to glimpse your greatness—” The bullshit just flows out of me when I’m in his presence. I wonder if I should worry about that.
“Curious eyes do not concern me,” the Sovereign said as he stood. His body moved in the oddest ways, and Terian could not help but stare as he moved. “There are more troublesome matters at hand.” He moved his face into the light cast by a nearby lantern for but a second, and Terian caught an impression of ridged flesh, as though wrinkled but not by age. He recalled an elephant he had seen once in Reikonos, and remembered the grey skin that bore wrinkles as natural to it as blue pigment was to his own.
“I bring news of the suppression of the insurrectionists in the Back Deep,” Amenon said, clearing his own throat. Is he nervous? Terian wondered. It took only a second to answer his own question: Who wouldn’t be?
“News has already reached us of the events in the Back Deep,” Yartraak said, stretching taller. Terian looked up, and then up some more. The Sovereign was much taller than ten feet; at least fifteen as he currently stood, and he seemed to be stretching before Terian’s eyes. He shot a look at his father
, but Amenon remained silent, head bowed. “Not only was there an insurrection by civilians, but a squad of the Third Army has killed their officer and made their own revolt.”
“Yes, my Sovereign,” Amenon said.
The Sovereign waited, as though he were expecting Amenon to say something else. “So it is true? You do not deny it?”
“Why would I deny a truth to my Sovereign?” Amenon said, and Terian had never heard his father sound so lifeless. “Three Sovar rats joined our army and when their loyalty was tested, it failed like gnomish steel.”
The Sovereign stood before them, and in the shadows next to the throne, Terian saw movement. Dagonath Shrawn stepped out from behind the arm’s rest on the right, leaning on his staff and bearing a thin, satisfied smile.
“This is grim news indeed,” the Sovereign said. “Disloyalty in your army, Amenon?”
“It has happened, my Sovereign,” Amenon said. “That much is plain.”
“I’m sorry,” Terian said, feeling a certain amount of anger bubbling up within. “When was the last time you actually saw that army, Father?”
Amenon’s response was immediate, a blazing fire in his eyes as his head snapped around to look at Terian. The message was obvious: Shut up!
Terian waited, looking back to the Sovereign, whose head was slightly cocked. Terian wondered if it was in curiosity. “Lord Amenon, that is a valid question.”
Amenon’s teeth gritted together so obviously that Terian could not miss them. “It has been … some months, my Sovereign. There are … many armies at this point. I make inspections of each as often as I am able.”
“Perhaps running the army is too great a responsibility for you,” Shrawn said, speaking at last.
Amenon did not answer, but Terian saw him fire a searing glance at Shrawn. “Perhaps it’s too great a responsibility for any one man,” Terian said, drawing Amenon’s look back to him. “Especially when we’re drawing our candidates from Sovar while you’re doing all you can to starve them out and foment insurrection in the lower chamber.”
Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) Page 25