by J. S. Morin
“If that was true, why did you want to find Kyrus to recruit him for your little band of coin-seekers?” Brannis wondered aloud.
“Because it was you, silly. I knew since Raynesdark that you were out here somewhere, and the whole Kyrus thing just seemed too good a gamble to pass up. Once I saw the wanted posters of you in Scar Harbor, I knew for sure,” Soria claimed. “Oh, and by the by …” She whacked him, hard, right on the stomach. Brannis winced, accompanied by a startled grunt. “You are dense as stone at times. I had dropped hints from Kadris to Raynesdark to see if anything would seem familiar. Half the trail songs I sang were from Tellurak.”
“I thought I might have recognized some of them, but could never quite get past how awful your singing was,” Brannis said, then snickered. Soria pulled one of the pillows from the bed, and hit him with it. A minor skirmish ensued, and Brannis emerged victorious, with Soria laughing helplessly under his onslaught of feather-filled pillows.
“Are you hungry? I just realized I am.” Brannis panted as he caught his breath after the mock fighting, and laughing he had just done. Soria nodded in the affirmative. They both found clothes, and went to see what the Merciful had lying about for a breakfast.
* * * * * * * *
The food was better than Brannis had expected. While he was still unused to the cuisine of Tellurak, extensive trading seemed to have led to more diverse fare. He had eaten more than his share of preserved meats in his day, but the pork sausage was spiced with something he could not name. They ate out on the deck of the ship, the six of them, Brannis’s new crew in Tellurak: himself, Soria, Wendell, Tanner, Zellisan and Rakashi. The rest of the crew stayed well away from them as they worked.
With the noise of the sea, and the fore of the ship all to themselves, Brannis thought it safe enough to discuss his plans, now that he was confident that he had one. It felt odd to Brannis that everyone had deferred to him so readily. Soria had been their leader—except for Wendell—and since she seemed content to let Brannis choose their path, the rest had gone along.
“All right, everyone,” Brannis said. “I have decided what our next moves are going to be. Wendell has business in Takalia. Once we make it to port, that will be our first priority. Since it may be a delicate endeavor, I think it would be best to keep the numbers to a minimum. Therefore I think it would be best if Zellisan would accompany him.” Brannis looked to the hulking older man for confirmation. What he saw was a mixture of puzzlement and acceptance. Zellisan had been a wanderer with none, but his companions to answer to for a long time, but back in Veydrus, he was a soldier at heart.
“To what end?” Zellisan asked. It was not the sort of response a marshal expected from a soldier, but without a solid command structure to back him out on the Katamic, Brannis supposed that Zellisan had grounds enough to question him.
“Well, Wendell has to go; it is his errand, after all. Of the rest of us, you are the best suited to act as a bodyguard. I know you are suited to it, and experienced as well. I have no worry at all, putting Wendell’s safety in your hands,” Brannis told Zellisan, hoping that the vote of confidence in him would make the sting of being shipped off with the rascally magician a little less painful.
“Are you certain you would not rather accompany me yourself, Sir Brannis?” Wendell asked, leaving his preference exposed for all to hear. “With that sword and armor, none would stand against you. That is just not the sort of magic one finds lying about in Tellurak.”
“I am flattered that you would take my protection over Zellisan’s, Wendell. I have other business to attend to, though, which takes me in another direction. Besides, I think that I would be hard pressed to keep it to just the two of us,” Brannis replied, giving a grin and a meaningful glance Soria’s way.
“Right on that count. I spent months tracking you down. I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Soria said, not giving the slightest hint of joking. There were a few chuckles anyway, at her manner.
“I will be heading to Kyrus’s home, Scar Harbor,” Brannis said. “When he—I, I suppose—fled, I must have left a cataclysmic mess in my wake. I want to go back, and tie off a few loose ropes, set a few things to rights. There are a few things I need to look into as well, none of which I can send another to do in my place.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be glad to help,” Tanner said, nodding, “just as soon as you untangle that knot of a plan, and explain it again. If that was supposed to be something to work on, I missed where you said what we were doing.”
“Well, the ‘we’ part is a bit of a different story, but I was purposefully vague. While Wendell is just on personal business, I have some sensitive matters to see to, which I do not feel safe enough discussing on Stalyart’s ship. Once we book passage out of Takalia, I will go into more details,” Brannis hedged. In truth, it was quite the opposite. Wendell was working some scheme he had only half-explained, but he was clearly working on an elaborate plan to get the Staff of Gehlen. Either that, or he was using such a plan as a ruse for some even deeper plot. Either way, Brannis wanted as little attention drawn to it as possible, from Stalyart, as well as Rakashi.
“So we’re just gonna end up in a circle after all this?” Tanner asked, clearly unimpressed with the plan. “We just came from there a week or so ago. I’m gonna get dizzy. Hey, how ’bout after that, we head on over to Marker’s Point, then maybe see if we can shave a day off our time from last trip.”
“Well, I am glad you hate my plan,” Brannis joked, drawing glances away from Tanner’s direction and toward himself. “Because I have a different task for you.” Brannis gave a wide smile that did not seem to reassure Tanner in the least.
Tanner turned his head, and looked sidelong at Brannis. “What’s that?”
“You get to stay and keep an eye on Denrik Zayne. You are Kadrin’s new ambassador to Megrenn.”
Tanner’s jaw dropped. He stood there gaping at Brannis as if he had just see him sprout a second head.
“Brannis, you can’t just abandon him with these pirates!” Zellisan objected.
“He’s right, Brannis, that’s not fair at all,” Soria said, sounding concerned about the prospects Tanner had of surviving on his own among the pirates. “He doesn’t deserve that.”
“Deserve? We are a few days yet from Takalia, so you have time to think it over,” Brannis told Tanner. “But I think once you do that, you are going to find yourself enjoying the prospect. Denrik Zayne made me an offer of an ambassadorship, but he could not trust Kyrus’s magic. Tanner will fill that vacant role, and there will be no threat of him burning down the ship. Admittedly, with Kyrus, there was always that concern.”
“So you’re sayin’ I get to play at pirate, with the official status of ambassador to protect me?” Tanner asked, seeming to warm slightly to the idea.
“They make good coin, stock better ale than most taverns, and you would likely be spared any of the real work of running the ship. As for ‘official,’ well, I do not know how official we can possibly make it, but you will be protected by mutual interest in keeping open a line of communication. Sorry to say but you are not valuable enough to make a hostage of, nor dangerous enough for him to fear. You get to fall in between, under the category of ‘too useful to kill,’ which is a good place to be,” Brannis said. He felt like he was tipping Tanner over the edge, past his objections.
“I’ll think about it. Might not be the trick coin it sounded like when you first mentioned it,” Tanner conceded.
Brannis knew at that point that he had won; Tanner was just saving face by not admitting he was swayed so quickly. He would let the question linger a bit before making his decision known. Brannis had been picking up on the way Rashan maneuvered people, and had seen the warlock elicit the same reaction from a number of nobles and Inner Circle members. People more or less all functioned the same, and anyone with pride and at least a nominal ability to refuse would prefer to make it seem like they had come to the decision on their own. Either way, it served Brannis well e
nough.
“Since I will be heading to Scar Harbor, and I assume by her earlier comment that Soria will be coming as well, that just leaves you, Rakashi,” Brannis said, continuing his allotments of personnel with the one he was least sure of. “You can choose whether you come with me and Soria, or stay with Tanner and head over to Denrik Zayne’s ship when I convince Stalyart to deliver him. Of course, you could also choose your own path. I have no authority in Kadrin that I could hold over you, so you are free to do what you like.”
“Takalia is my homeland. Perhaps it would be best if I were to escort Wendell and Zellisan,” Rakashi offered placidly. His manner gave no indication of duplicity, but Brannis had seen far better than him at subterfuge. He would choose to distrust Rakashi’s motives until he had taken his own stock of the man. Soria’s trust carried some weight, but that was loyalty to her, not any general regard for Kadrins.
“No. Wendell is taking Zellisan with him and no one else. If you wish to return home, I will not stop you, of course, but Wendell’s family business is his own to keep to himself or not, as he chooses. One bodyguard is enough,” Brannis informed Rakashi.
“Yes,” Wendell said, “if I were as adept here as I am back in Kadrin, I might do well on my own, or even if I were a younger man. However, if I must accede to the effects of age, I would prefer involving as few outsiders as possible in my family’s affairs,” Wendell contended, thankfully picking up on Brannis’s wish for Rakashi to stay away from whatever plan he was working on between Takalia and Zorren.
The Takalish warrior brushed aside the rejection as if it were of no concern. “Very well then. I will accompany you and Soria.”
“That settles it, then.” Brannis clapped his hands once, signaling the finality of the assignments. “We have until we get to Takalia to work out any further details. Now I just have to go have a conversation about Tanner.”
* * * * * * * *
“Ahh, Kyrus, you wonderful madman!” Captain Stalyart laughed uproariously when he heard Brannis’s plan. “I think I just might start believing those tales I keep overhearing that you are actually Brannis Solaran. First you cheat Denrik Zayne, then threaten him, and when he shows you mercy by leaving you in paradise, you have your friends in Kadrin arrange your rescue.” Stalyart paused a moment, realizing that it sounded very much like the plan he had followed to free Denrik from Rellis Island. Shaking this off as a coincidence, he continued. “Now you are free, and the first thing you do is to try to get one of your assassins near to Captain Zayne.”
“He is no assassin. He is a swordsman and a coinblade,” Brannis argued. “And you should have been one of the first to realize I was not actually Kyrus; you saw me not so very long ago. How many men can fill out a suit of armor so quickly, short of eating himself to ruinous girth?”
“You travel with a man who cheats at cards better than any I have ever seen. I have no idea his trick, but I know he was not winning fairly. And you … you had the potential to be a remarkably strong sorcerer. Even if the tale of your magical adventure were false, I would have to guard against deception by your own magic,” Stalyart reasoned.
“Well, since you might as well warn Zayne, it is Kyrus he will be matching wits with. I am also receiving proper training in magic from Rashan Solaran,” Brannis bragged. “As for my ‘adventure,’ it was an accident, and I am making the most of my situation here. Had I known so many of my own had twins on this side, I would have tried something like this all the sooner. I had hoped that Captain Zayne would view Tanner’s presence as a compromise; he gets his ambassador, and does not have to risk either me accidentally torching his vessel or deciding that I would be best off with him dead, and tearing his Source out.”
“Well, maybe you are Brannis and maybe you are Kyrus. To be quite honest …” Stalyart began, then trailed off, changing his mind mid-sentence. “You know, there is a fanciful old map in my quarters—perhaps you have seen it more recently than I—that is decorated along the margins. It shows the whole of the world as men once saw it, ending a bit east of Takalia and a bit west of Acardia, with nothing between them—as if the world were not round and no man had set foot on Elok. The edges show serpents and devils, whirlpools and mermaids; there are even dragons there. If ever there were a man who might find his way off the map, and find the land where dragons live, I suppose I would have to think of Kyrus. He is too strong for his own skills—a hazard to friend and foe alike.”
“I am not sure quite how to take that, but in any event, my offer stands. You have until we reach Takalia to decide but I think it works to everyone’s benefit. Jinzan gets a line of communication with Kadrin. You get to do Zayne a service. Tanner gets to play pirate. I get some time with Soria without him around, constantly watching her.” Brannis smiled.
Stalyart nodded slowly in understanding. “This is the man who wrings Denrik Zayne’s neck at chess, I remember,” Stalyart congratulated him. “I see now, you are a man who moves men as chess pieces. It is a noble tradition, you know, among generals. A good tactician, whether on a chessboard, a battlefield, or at sea, knows that he must place carefully each of his pieces, not just the important ones. Battles are won and lost because a small piece was in just the right place when it was needed.”
“Something like that.” Brannis shrugged.
“And pawns are meant to be used and discarded, when they serve their purpose best in death,” Stalyart observed ominously.
“I do not intend that Tanner is being sacrificed, you know. If I thought Zayne was going to kill him—if he could, mind you, the man is a demon with a blade from what I hear …”—Brannis immediately regretted his choice of words, but there was nothing to be done about it—“… then I would not send him at all.”
“Denrik Zayne is a man who thinks freedom is worth dying for. He understands that to make Megrenn free was a great thing, and worth the risk to himself. He sees freeing Kadrin much the same way. He would like to see the people free, and your nobles and sorcerers ground to dust beneath his boot for how you behave. For all those noble thoughts, he would think nothing of sacrificing a pawn to advance his ends. Would you not do the same?” Stalyart asked.
Brannis found himself wondering about the dashing swashbuckler, whether there was more to him than met the eye—and not just his eye for detail or quick wit. He did not know the man well, but was seeing for the first time that he was perhaps a bit of a philosopher. “I would. I have a job to do, and sometimes I have to order men to risk their lives based on my plans. Munne fell despite my efforts. We gave up Temble Hill as a diversion and a trap, knowing it would never hold, but I sent a lot of men to Munne who died because of it. They died trying to keep Munne free, but it fell anyway.”
“The tragedy is that they died for freedom but never had it to begin with,” Stalyart said.
“How do you mean? Of course they were free,” Brannis said. He suspected deep down that he knew the gist of what Stalyart’s argument would be, and hated himself for it.
“Free? What would have happened if a soldier had said ‘No, I will not fight. I wish to go home,’ and he did so?” Stalyart asked, but he did not wait for Brannis to answer. “I will tell you that he would be called a deserter. I do not know your custom for such matters, but I suspect he would be killed or thrown in a dungeon. That is the Kadrin way. A Megrenn soldier would be called a coward. They would take back any weapons and armor he had been given, any provisions the army had provided. It might mean that he walked home naked, begging at farmhouses for food, but it would be his choice. That is a free man.”
“It sounds much the same. He would likely die of starvation as no one would feed a known deserter, or he might turn to brigandry. He is not really any better off than the Kadrin deserter, except the Kadrin would get a cleaner, quicker death,” Brannis said. No army would hold together long should there be no punishment for desertion. Megrenn merely made it unpalatable in a different way than Kadrin did.
“You really cannot see the difference?” Stalyart
asked innocently, shaking his head. “I had hoped that maybe you would see more clearly, but the rot that the Empire brings has corrupted you as well, I see. Too much power, too close to the top, to see how little freedom there really is. The Megrenn will fight for real freedom. They have gotten their own, and they will bring it to Kadrin. They are even willing to die for it.
“And that is where we differ, the Megrenn and I,” Stalyart stated, reminding Brannis that Gar-Danel was allied with Megrenn, not a part of it. “I am willing to kill for my freedom. I am even willing to kill for someone else’s, if the right situation comes. I will not die for my freedom, though; that is the height of folly.”
“A lot of men die for their freedom. Entire wars are fought over it,” Brannis said.
“Freedom is the ability to choose your own path. The dead do not have that choice any longer,” Stalyart noted.
Brannis could not argue the point. He merely made a note of it in the back of his mind, wondering if someday knowing that Stalyart valued his life over his freedom could be put to use. Brannis found himself conscious of reducing the person of Stalyart to a chess piece in his mind. He was a part of a much larger game than chess, and it was a game where the players had to be constantly learning more of the rules as they played. He had just discovered one of the rules for moving Stalyart.
Chapter 24 - Forging Chains
The room had a military smell to it. The air was fresh and crisp from the window he had opened, but it could not overpower the heavy scent of leather oil and steel that saturated the building. Brannis had spent less and less time at the army’s headquarters as he became embroiled in the politics at court, and in Rashan’s schemes. Kyrus had gone a step further in his brief tenure as Brannis’s replacement, never having set foot in Brannis’s office until that morning. General Sir Hurald Chadreisson had emptied the room of many of the accoutrements of command. The desk was bare, and the rack of scroll canisters was empty as well; scouts’ missives had been redirected to Brannis’s suite at the palace. The personnel records had been moved to some major’s office (Kyrus had already ordered them returned). The large map he had been using to track the Kadrin deployment, and reports of Megrenn forces had been removed, but the little statues were left strewn across the table. Monohorns and stripe-cats lay with their feet up in the air, Megrenn infantry swept into a pile. The Kadrin forces had been bunched at one end of the table, all together, but someone had at least taken the care to leave them standing upright.