by Myke Cole
Sharp only looked at him calmly. “I get it, sir. But this isn’t something we can do anything about right now. You just have to chill.”
Bookbinder sighed. “You’re right. So how the hell did you deal with the Yemenis?”
Sharp shrugged. “We waited. We waited until they were good and ready.”
But two days later, the Naga Raja was still neither good nor ready. Apart from the regular deliveries of food, the Americans remained confined to the pavilion and the short strip of ground around it that led to the fountain on one end and a latrine pit on the other, behind an intricately carved wooden screen.
They were easily the longest two days of Bookbinder’s life.
The Americans did their best to occupy themselves. Sharp led them in rounds of push-ups and sit-ups, under the amused eyes of the naga. They chatted about home and played word games.
Each time food was delivered, Bookbinder demanded that the officer send word to his commander that they had to get moving.
After the second time, the officer stopped coming, and two troopers, neither speaking a word of English, only stared blankly at Bookbinder’s demands.
As night fell after the second day, Bookbinder rounded up his team. “We can’t sit like this. We have got to get out of here.”
He whispered, looking over his shoulder at the Naga. Even if they could hear them, could they understand?
Sharp was silent. Stanley nodded. “We can’t do that, sir,” Woon said. “If we just wait a little . . .”
“We don’t have time! What if they want us to wait a week? Two weeks? A month? The FOB could have fallen by then! We’re already well past the window I told Crucible we would take. He’s probably given up on us already!”
“Sir.” It was Sharp.
“What?”
“Sir, could I have a word?” Sharp’s voice was hard. He jerked his head in the direction of the fountain.
Bookbinder met the eyes of the rest of his team, saw the concern there. He felt his throat, slightly raw. Had he been yelling?
“Come on, sir.” Sharp stood.
They walked over to the fountain. Light from the Source’s huge moon had begun to cast a soft glow over the playing waters, the trickle of which masked their conversation from those still seated in the pavilion.
“What’s up, Sergeant?” Bookbinder asked, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
Sharp wasn’t buying it. “Sir, I know you’re taking the guys we lost hard. You have to remember that they signed up for this. They knew what was coming. That’s just how it is.”
Bookbinder looked at him. “What are you going on about? We’ve got a FOB to save! That’s why we came here!”
Sharp put his hand on Bookbinder’s shoulder. “Sir, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. They knew what they were doing. We made it. We’re here. We don’t want to screw that up now. Not after we’ve come so far.”
Bookbinder opened his mouth to refute him and found he had nothing to say.
Sharp’s voice was soft. “I’m proud to follow you, sir. But you have to keep in mind that you’re in charge here. If you try to arrange some kind of jailbreak because you’re feeling bad about the guys getting zapped, well . . . that’s going to cause trouble isn’t it? For all of us. The FOB will keep a few days, sir. We just need to sit tight and keep it together is all.”
Bookbinder was silent. His throat clenched with humiliation and grief.
Sharp touched his shoulder again. “Those guys didn’t die in vain, sir. They really didn’t. We just need to keep it together. Do you think you can do that?”
Bookbinder found his voice. “Yes.”
Footsteps sounded on the courtyard beyond. Bookbinder and Sharp turned to see Dhatri approaching. At his side was a tall, regal-looking older man. His khaki uniform was immaculately pressed and covered with ribbons. Red facings adorned his lapels. His black beret bore a gold wreath around a sun. His epaulets were a gaudy design of three gold suns surmounted by an equal number of lions. His immaculately trimmed moustache twitched disdain. Vasuki-Kai stood behind them, nodding greeting as the Naga guards prostrated themselves.
Dhatri saluted and gestured to the man beside him. “May I present Brigadier Hazarika, who commands our presence here at FOB Sarpakavu.”
Bookbinder did the mental rank comparison and saluted smartly. “Sir, a pleasure to meet you.”
Brigadier Hazarika returned Bookbinder’s salute but said nothing. Vasuki-Kai however, hissed something from behind him.
Dhatri translated dutifully. “His Lordship Raja Ajathashatru the Fifth, Great King of the World, Uniter of the Spheres, summons you to appear before him.”
Bookbinder and Sharp exchanged glances. The wait was over. They were to see the Naga Raja after all.
Chapter XXII
Audience
The strength of British magic lies in is diversity. Modern militaries emphasize uniformity out of necessity, and they’re right to . . . in a nonarcane world. The Great Reawakening has made that kind of thinking obsolete. The Welsh “Bog Style” Terramancy complements our “Branded” Highland Battalion. Mesh with the ”Court Sorcery” coming out of London, and you have a range of abilities we bring to bear to face a diverse range of threats. If we’d streamlined all that into a single, conforming style? We’d have lost far more than we would have gained. It’s a united kingdom, to be sure, but it’s the parts we’re the sum of that win the fight in the end.
—Thegn Albert Harrow, Blackpool Warband, Red Ravens
Bookbinder asked Stanley Britton to stay behind with Archer and Sharp. The Naga had given every indication of being rank-conscious, and this was an official embassy, so he thought it best to bring only senior officers. He silently thanked his luck that Woon was a major.
They proceeded through the courtyard beyond the pavilion, passing around the thickness of the tower and into the main plaza. Bookbinder caught his breath at the opulence. A long reflecting pool, broken by several fountains, spanned the plaza, which was at least a hundred feet long. The white stone expanse was ringed by domed buildings, also of white stone, their surfaces expertly carved in interlocking images of serpents, humans, men with the heads and wings of birds. Bookbinder spotted at least one agni danav, lying on its back, a naga triumphantly astride it, thrusting a sword through its chest. The vanity of the royal naga was underscored by the scattering of giant, man-sized gold-framed mirrors that hung on the inside of the plaza walls, lining the entire courtyard all the way from the ring wall’s entrance to the main gates of each building.
Vasuki-Kai led the way, the humans behind him, a double line of naga guards falling in on either side. Clusters of naga, all of Vasuki-Kai’s greater size and coloration, stood at the entrance to what Bookbinder assumed was the palace.
The building dwarfed all the rest, a massive central dome ringed by eight smaller towers, too narrow and delicate to be anything other than decorative. A brass finial at the top of the dome depicted a coiled, multiheaded snake, basking in a burning sun. The walls of the structure were pierced with such skill that they had become stone latticeworks, dappling all with the patterned firelight that flowed from inside. The huge iron gates were open, revealing a massive promenade that stretched out into the distance, lit on either side by giant, black, iron braziers, burning scented oils. The same jeweled insects that Bookbinder had seen over the river they’d crossed earlier cavorted above the promenade, drawn to it by bowls filled with a thick, sweet-smelling liquid that stood on white stone pedestals interspersed among the braziers.
The ground was, of course, carpeted with snakes. Bookbinder caught his breath at the beauty of it all but didn’t forget to chuck Woon’s elbow. “Don’t step on ’em, for the love of God.”
She rolled her eyes as they advanced into the promenade.
After a few steps, a magnificent dais hove into view. A white stone fan spread behind it, carved in the likeness of a naga reclining. A grooved slab, much like the ones in the pavilion, stood before the sto
ne fan, flanked by naga guards of princely rank judging by their size and coloration. They bore no weapons, but Britton could feel strong magical currents off them even from far away.
In the center of it all, reclining on the grooved slab, was the creature that Bookbinder guessed had to be the Naga Raja, Ajathashatru the Fifth.
The Great King was a monster. He lacked even the nods to humanity that the other naga showed. He was all serpent; gigantic, his coiled length as thick around as a tree. His scales, each the size of a dinner plate, blazed in a rainbow of colors so dazzling that Bookbinder had to squint to look at him. His coils stacked, length upon tree-trunk length, raising his neck at least twenty feet in the air to where it blossomed into a forest of snake’s heads more than double what Bookbinder had seen on any other naga. Each one was the size of large man’s head, each wearing a silver crown that dripped with glittering jewels.
At their approach, the Naga Raja reared to his full height, the heads stretching out in a fan that spread at least eight feet at its ends, and hissed a greeting that echoed the length of the promenade.
Vasuki-Kai, Brigadier Hazarika, everyone in the room went down on their bellies. After an instant’s hesitation, Bookbinder tugged on Woon’s sleeve, and they imitated them, knocking their foreheads on the floor. Bookbinder’s gut rebelled at the gesture. He was an American, his forefathers had fought a revolution to end customs just like this. But there was no America in the Source. There had been no revolution here. New world.
New rules.
When at last they rose, Ajathashatru hissed again in an echoing bass that rattled Bookbinder’s teeth. Brigadier Hazarika translated in English nearly as good as Dhatri’s. “His Royal Majesty welcomes you to his Raajya and says that his loyal amatyan Abhijit Vasuki-Kai has spoken highly of you and your people. He says you have been kind to his wards and children.” At this the king inclined a few of his heads toward Dhatri and Hazarika.
“His Royal Majesty welcomes this and is pleased to note that you are learning civilization. It was ever his wish that his amatyan’s tenure among you should teach you this. It pleases him to see it is so.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bookbinder saw Woon swallow and guessed the Naga Raja’s tone rankled her as much as him.
Easy. This isn’t a democracy.
“Please inform his Royal Majesty that we are very grateful for his hospitality and assistance. We are very comfortable in our quarters and have been well fed. Thank him for his generosity. This can only help improve relations between the United States, the Republic of India, and his Majesty’s great Raajya. I will ensure that my government knows of the king’s kindness when I finally establish contact with them.”
Hazarika translated, Ajathashatru’s heads nodding in time with the words. “His Majesty’s amatyan informs him that you lost sipahis on the journey here. His Majesty notes it is your custom to mourn even your lowest and so he has assigned one hundred mourners on their behalf. They are even now interceding with Chitragupta to ensure your men are well treated by Yamaraj in the next life.”
Bookbinder swallowed, glad that Sharp and Archer weren’t here for this. “Thank His Royal Majesty for me. It is a great honor.”
“His Royal Majesty’s amatyan informs him that you have a special and rare magic. He says that you can steal the magic of others and make it fast into nonliving things. His Majesty asks if this is true?”
Bookbinder paused, his stomach doing somersaults. You have nothing to bargain with here. You are completely at their mercy. Here, at last, is something they want from you. Better to keep his cards close to the vest for now until he was sure they were going to help him.
He took a deep breath before answering. “Inform His Majesty that it is true, but it doesn’t work all the time. I was lucky on the road here. Much of the time, I cannot make it work. I think my magic is . . . broken somehow.”
Dhatri looked over his shoulder, frowning at Bookbinder, his expression saying, You never told us this . . . He whispered rapidly to Hazarika, who nodded, looking over at Bookbinder.
Woon was stone-faced.
Bookbinder thanked her inwardly yet again.
There was a short burst of conversation between Vasuki-Kai, Ajathashatru, Hazarika, and Dhatri, interspersed hissing and Hindi. After a moment, Hazarika translated again. “His Royal Majesty is quite curious to see you demonstrate this ability. Two of his sorcerers attend him here. He commands you to steal their magic and bind it to this brazier.”
As he spoke, two lesser naga approached the dais, carrying another one of large iron braziers, this one unlit. They set it down with a thud and stepped back as the naga to Ajathashatru’s side slithered forward. It reached forward with four of its arms and Bookbinder felt its flow intensify, Binding to the air molecules between its outstretched hands. Wind picked up throughout the promenade, making the flames in the braziers flicker and sending the crystalline insects scattering. After a moment, a crackling ball of lightning, several feet across, blazed before the naga’s chest. All eyes looked expectantly at Bookbinder.
He bowed and stepped forward, shunting back his magical flow as it surged instinctively toward the naga Aeromancer’s spell casting. He stretched his hands forth and gently let his current intersect with the naga’s. The creature’s eyes widened as the ball of lightning before it began to shrink. Bookbinder extended a hand and pointed to the brazier, grunting and straining as dramatically as he could, willing himself to sweat. He dragged on the naga’s current, but only slightly, not fully allowing himself to capture the flow before he halfheartedly slapped a tiny portion of it at the brazier. The black iron surface began to sizzle slightly, tiny tendrils of electricity playing across its surface.
Ajathashatru hissed in excitement, and all in the chamber pressed forward to look. Bookbinder grunted more, reaching hard for the brazier. Internally, he began to roll the magic back, shunting the tide away.
After a moment, he let out a soft cry and dropped his arms.
The brazier ceased to sizzle. The naga’s lightning ball returned to full size. Bookbinder shook his head and put on an expression of disgust. “I beg His Royal Majesty’s forgiveness. It isn’t working right now.”
Hazarika translated, and Ajathashatru hissed back urgently.
“His Royal Majesty commands you to make it work.”
Bookbinder prostrated himself. “Please beg His Majesty’s mercy and forgiveness. It works sometimes. Sometimes it does not. Perhaps it is the presence of his might that has frightened my powers away.”
Vasuki-Kai hissed a long conversation with Ajathashatru, gesturing frequently to Bookbinder. Hazarika joined the conversation, and they talked for a long time before pausing. At last, Hazarika said, “His Royal Majesty speculates that perhaps this is like the fear-sickness that sometimes plagues his lesser children”—Ajathashatru gestured with his heads toward the snakes all around them—“ when they will not eat or pass their waste. Or maybe this is like the fear-sickness in humans, when they cannot mate with their women.”
Bookbinder caught Woon smirking out of the corner of his eye and felt himself flush. He stood. “I’m sure His Majesty is right.”
“His Majesty says you must rest and become comfortable in your surroundings. He asks if you have enough heat? Are you fed well? Are you wanting to mate with a woman?”
Bookbinder shook his head. “Thank His Majesty for his generosity. I am perhaps concerned only for the safety of my people. If His Majesty would help us to assist them, then I could perhaps defeat this fear-sickness and demonstrate my power to his satisfaction.”
Hazarika stared at him, horrified. He did not translate.
Instead, he said, “Colonel, you do not bargain with the Great King.”
Ajathashatru hissed angrily and Hazarika turned and spoke quickly in Hindi, bowing deeply.
The Naga Raja straightened at the brigadier’s words. Everyone in the room stiffened. There was a long pause before Ajathashatru spoke again. “His Royal Majesty understands
that you are only learning to be civilized. Therefore, he will forgive your rudeness. He says this is not a boon-begging audience, but an introduction. His Royal Majesty does not hear entreaties for another two days. He will consider your request on the proper day.”
Bookbinder bit down hard. Two days! They’d already wasted two damned days. Relax. Remember what Sharp said. If you want help, you’ve got to dance to their tune. Two more days or never.
Bookbinder only bowed, not trusting himself to speak.
“His Royal Majesty commands you to return to your quarters and await his next summons. He commands you to shed your fear-sickness and be prepared to demonstrate your abilities when next you are called before him.”
Again, Bookbinder bowed and managed to respond without anger in his voice. “Thank His Royal Majesty for speaking with me.”
Hazarika nodded, and said. “Now you will back out of the audience. At no time are you to turn your back on the Great King.”
All prostrated once again to a slight nod from Ajathashatru’s many heads.
Bookbinder and Woon followed the rest of procession, backing away, eyes cast down, until the giant monster that held them captive was out of sight.
Sharp and Archer took the news with mere nods. Stanley shook his head impatiently but said nothing. Bookbinder sighed as they settled in for the night, ready to get some rest before another two days of long waiting.
Woon caught up to him when he was washing at the fountain.
“That was all bullshit about your magic, wasn’t it, sir?”
Bookbinder shrugged. “So what if it was?”
“If you’ve got a plan, I’d like to know what it is.”
Bookbinder shook his head. “No plan, really. It’s just the one thing we have that they want. Figured it would be smarter to hang on to it for a while.”
“What do you plan to do with it?” Woon asked. “Brigadier Hazarika was pretty clear that you can’t negotiate with this . . . guy . . . thing. Whatever.”
Bookbinder smiled. “I’m still working on that part. I’m running mostly on instinct, Major. This is all new to me, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t exactly have my Ph. D in negotiating with giant snakes.”