Amos said, ‘I understand, but out here there’s no law, save what we make for ourselves. You’re a captain of a company on a sea of grass, and you must act as if these were pirates boarding your ship for plunder. You’ve got to order them dead after you get as much information out of them as you can.’
Nicholas looked hard into the eyes of the man who would be, gods willing, his step-grandfather. At last he took a deep breath and nodded firmly.
Returning to the circle around the fire, he nodded once to Ghuda, who slipped away. ‘Bring the captain here,’ he ordered.
Two men brought the injured captain, who moaned as he was eased to a sitting position at Nicholas’s feet. Nicholas said, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Dubas Nebu,’ he said, ‘Captain of the Second Company of His Radiance’s Own.’
Praji had ambled over and said, ‘Damn, it’s the Overlord’s private guards.’
Nicholas said, ‘Meaning?’
Praji scratched his face and said, ‘Either the Overlord’s in on all this or he’s got a traitor high up in his own government.’
Praji reached down and tore open the man’s tunic, which brought forth a scream of pain. ‘Get this animal away from me!’ cried the captain.
Praji found something about his neck and pulled it free. ‘Look at this,’ he said, handing it to Nicholas. He examined the talisman, as Praji added, ‘Clan symbol.’ Then his tone turned puzzled. ‘Though I’ve never seen its like before.’
Nicholas said, ‘I have.’ The token was of two snakes, in a pattern identical to that of his own ring.
Amos started to say something, but Nicholas cut him off. ‘Everyone, leave me alone with this man.’
Amos again started to speak, then stopped himself and nodded. He signaled for the others to follow him, and when Nicholas was alone with the wounded man, he knelt opposite him. ‘You fool,’ he whispered in his best conspiratorial tone, ‘what were your orders?’
Captain Dubas’s eyes were bright with his injury, and his face was drenched in perspiration, but he didn’t seem unclear as he said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, renegade.’
Nicholas reached into his belt pouch, pulled out the ring that Calis had brought to them from Elvandar, and showed it to the man. ‘I don’t wear this save when I need to identify myself!’ Nicholas said. ‘Now, what fool ordered you here? We were to kill the clansmen and bring the Ranjana to the city.’
Dubas said, ‘But … Dahakon told me that … there was to be no other company.’
Nicholas pulled his dagger and put it against the man’s chest. ‘I should kill you now, but someone higher up has made a mess of this.’
‘Who are you?’ asked the captain.
‘What were your orders?’
Pain made Dubas’s face pale and he said, ‘I was to take those who came with the wagons. The Red Slayers are already on their way back with the boats … I don’t understand …’
‘What about the prisoners?’ asked Nicholas.
‘There were to be no prisoners,’ said Dubas. ‘I was to kill the girls and bring their bodies in with me.’
‘No, the other prisoners. From the ship?’
Dubas said, ‘The ship …?’ Suddenly understanding registered. ‘You know of the ship!’ Before Nicholas could react, the captain lunged forward, throwing himself atop Nicholas. He cried out in a weak croak as Nicholas’s blade was driven into his chest by the force of his own weight.
Seeing the struggle from a few yards away, Amos and the others hurried back. ‘What happened?’ asked Amos as he pulled the dead man off Nicholas.
‘He killed himself,’ said Nicholas bitterly. ‘I was being clever and overplayed my hand.’
‘Did you learn anything?’ asked Harry, helping his friend to his feet.
‘I did get a name.’
‘What name?’ asked Praji.
‘Dahakon.’
‘Oh, that’s just wonderful,’ said Praji. ‘You’ve a grand assortment of enemies, Captain.’
‘Who is Dahakon?’ asked Marcus.
‘He’s the Overlord’s Grand Adviser, and the meanest son of a bitch in the Eastlands, the Riverlands, hell, the whole damned world.’
Nicholas said, ‘And from what I can see, he’s a traitor.’
‘Can’t be,’ said Praji.
‘Why not?’ asked Harry.
‘Because he’s the man who’s kept the Overlord in power since he took control of the city, twenty years back. He’s the man that’s truly feared in the city.’
‘Why?’ asked Marcus.
‘He’s a magician.’
Nicholas said, ‘That’s special around here?’
‘Ha!’ said Praji. ‘Obviously you’re from one hell of a long way off.’ In serious tones he added, ‘Captain, there’s only one magician in the Eastlands. That’s Dahakon. Used to be a few here and there, but it’s death for any magician to be found in the city. And it’s not a pretty death, from what the rumors say: he eats them.’
Nicholas glanced at Nakor and Anthony and shook his head slightly. Praji continued. ‘It’s said that he’s the man who created the Red Slayers, and they do his bidding, not the Overlord’s. He talks to the dead and has a soul drinker for a lover. She’s the one who keeps him alive; he’s supposed to be hundreds of years old.’
Nakor made a sign. ‘Very bad. Necromancy is the worst practice there is.’
Anthony nodded, and Nicholas could tell he was shaken. Pointedly he said, ‘We’ve no magicians among us, so we needn’t worry.’
‘That’s good,’ said Praji. ‘No, Dahakon can’t be the traitor; he could remove the Overlord any time he wished.’
Nicholas sighed. ‘Well, we’ll never figure out who’s behind this plotting standing here. How’s the best way to get down to the city?’
Praji said, ‘Boats. But with this place in ruins, you’ll never get a river caravan to put in; they’ll figure we’re the murderers who’ve done the job, and if the Jeshandi wander this way anytime soon, you’ll have some fast talking to do while they roast you upside down over a fire; back when they granted this land to Shingazi’s father, they put this little inn under their protection.’
He glanced around, as if speaking the nomads’ name might make them appear. ‘Best we be moving south, down the river road. There’s a village five days from here, and boats put in there from time to time. If we don’t find a boat ride along the way, we can be in the city in a month or two.’
Nicholas said nothing. A month would be far too late.
Abigail screamed. ‘Get away from me!’ She kicked out and the thing pulled away.
Margaret said, ‘I don’t think it’s going to harm you.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Abigail angrily. ‘They’re disgusting.’
The creatures she referred to were human-shaped, but rather than having skin, they were covered in green scales. A broad brow ridge dominated the forehead, and large black reptilian eyes stared out of an expressionless face. The teeth were odd, not as sharp as a reptile’s, yet not as regular as most humans’. If they had gender, there were no external indications of sex; the chest was flat and without nipples and the crotch appeared smooth. Margaret didn’t know what the creatures were, but she knew they were somehow related to the one that had occupied the cabin next to their own on the black ship.
The girls had been taken from the ship in a large boat, rowed to the docks by a crew of men in black tunics and trousers, wearing red head coverings. Rather than being taken to a slave pen, as Margaret had expected, the girls had been loaded aboard a caravan of wagons and taken out of the city, to a large estate surrounded by high walls. There they had been taken to the rooms they occupied now, and Arjuna Svadjian resumed the questioning. Margaret was now convinced there was a pattern to his seemingly random questions, but she couldn’t quite make it out. She knew much of what he asked was to mask the design of his interrogation, which his manner and choices of topics made it difficult to guess at. They never saw the mysteriou
s woman who had ordered the murder of the girl to demonstrate that their countrymen’s lives depended upon the girls’ cooperation. Once Margaret asked Arjuna about her, but he ignored her and posed another question.
Asking Abigail to help discover what his purpose was had helped the girl come out of her last round of despair. Now she was angry, and she seemed ready to help Margaret in her next attempt to escape; Margaret had again stated her intention to get away as soon as possible.
Their routine became predictable. They were allowed their privacy, save when Arjuna came to question them. At breakfast, the noon meal, and supper they were served by attendants who refused to speak. In the afternoon, they were permitted to spend a few hours in a garden under a gauzy awning that cut the harsh glare of the sun.
Then things had changed. That morning, instead of Arjuna coming to question them, the two creatures had been admitted to the room. Abigail had fled to the farthest corner, while Margaret had stood ready to defend herself with a chair. The two creatures had hunkered down and watched for a while, each studying one of the girls.
Abigail had returned at last to sit on her bed, and for another hour one of the creatures had sat staring at her. Then it had tried to touch her.
Margaret said, ‘Have you ever heard of anything like these?’
‘No,’ said Abigail. ‘They’re some sort of demon.’
Margaret studied the one who stared at her. ‘I don’t think so. There’s nothing that seems magical about them. But their skin looks like the hand I saw when I looked out the window on the ship that one time.’
The door opened and the servants brought in the morning meal. The girls didn’t feel much like eating, but they knew that if they didn’t, they would be force-fed. As they ate, the interest of the two creatures seemed to increase and they tried to get closer. Abigail drove off hers by throwing a plate at it, while Margaret simply ignored the other.
After the meal, Arjuna entered, and before he could speak, Margaret shouted, ‘What are these creatures?’
In his always calm tone, he said, ‘These? They are harmless. Companions for you.’
‘Well, I don’t want them here!’ insisted Abigail. ‘Take them away.’
All Arjuna would say was ‘They will do you no injury. They will remain.’ He pulled up a chair and said, ‘Now, what do you know of the legend of Sarth?’
Margaret looked at the creature who stared at her, and for a moment there was something in its dead eyes that glimmered with intelligence. She felt a shiver down her back and turned away.
The boats moved lazily down the river. Nicholas sat on the foredeck of the first, a lumbering thing of high gunwales, a half-barge, with a mast that lay folded along its length, as they used the currents of the Serpent River to carry them toward their destination. Two long oars beat halfheartedly against the current, keeping them moving faster than the water just enough so the tiller would do some good. They’d been aboard the boats for a week now, and would reach the City of the Serpent River soon.
Nicholas reviewed their situation. Between what they had salvaged from Shingazi’s Landing and the treasure, Nicholas’s Company, as they were now calling themselves, was well outfitted and relatively wealthy. They had moved downriver to the village that Praji had spoken of, and rested there.
At first the villagers had fled in terror, believing them to be bandits, but Nicholas had waited calmly with the wagons for a day until one of the braver men had ventured out of the nearby woods to speak with him. It took only a few kind words and a gold piece to convince the man they weren’t going to steal everything in sight, which they could have done while the villagers were hiding.
The villagers had turned out and feted the company for more than a week, and Nicholas’s injured recovered. He had hated to lose the time, but Nicholas had agreed that everyone needed rest before they attempted to move south by wagon. And the village was the most logical place to hail any passing river traffic. During this time, Praji’s companion, Vaja, had recovered sufficiently to join in conversations with the others. Nicholas discovered him to be a vain man, proud of his handsome profile and curly locks. The younger women of the village reinforced his high opinion of himself, lavishing attention on the handsome fighter, bringing him water, fresh fruit, and honeyed bread during the day and, Nicholas suspected, more intimate proof at night. Nicholas had also discovered that Vaja’s noble-sounding speech was an affectation, and that, on balance, he wasn’t a very intelligent man. Praji seemed to be the brains of the pair, but he was content to let others think the more charismatic Vaja was.
While the men had convalesced, Nicholas had undergone a quick course of instruction from Ghuda on the deployment of men at the company level. If Praji and Vaja stayed with them, they would number thirty-five soldiers and Brisa. The sailors had grumbled about the drills, but the soldiers had mocked them unmercifully until they had become practiced enough to hold their own in the mock drills and combat. Each man was put through endless sword and bow practice, until all were able to use the weapons, even if with only marginal skill. From what Praji and Tuka said, thirty-five was a small number for a company of any repute – some of the larger numbered as many as six hundred – but it was sufficient for them to be believable mercenaries.
At the end of the week, a river caravan hove into sight and Praji had run up a white banner, the sign for a parley. The first boat came close enough to shore for Nicholas and the caravan captain to negotiate, and after nearly ten minutes of shouting across the water, Nicholas had to have someone swim out and give the man gold.
Nicholas elected to send Harry, while Marcus, Calis, and the other bowmen were ready to provide either punishment or retreating cover should either prove necessary. But as soon as the captain of the boats saw the gold, the other boats swung into shore. It had taken nearly two hours to board everyone.
In the distance, Nicholas could see a dark smudge on the horizon, and he asked Praji, ‘What is that?’
‘Smoke, from the City of the Serpent River. We’ll be there before nightfall.’
They had spent the entire journey considering their options and now they had a plan. At least, Nicholas hoped it was a plan, for he couldn’t admit to the others he had the feeling that he was leading them into disaster. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of Abigail and Margaret coming to harm, and the certainty that behind all the mysterious betrayals of the last two weeks stood the Pantathian serpent priests.
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN •
City
NICHOLAS TENSED.
The Serpent River had been cutting through marshlands for an hour, and now they were crossing a huge lake. The boat crew began rowing in earnest once they were in the lake, as the currents were diffusing into the large body of water. The tillerman leaned hard against his pole and the boat turned, toward the river emptying from the lake on the east side. Nicholas sat up straighter to get a better look at the distant city. Turning to Praji, he asked, ‘Where are we?’
‘Lake of the Kings,’ answered Praji.
‘Why is it called that?’ asked Nicholas.
Praji lay back against a bale of cargo while Vaja slept nearby; they were hardly ever apart, it seemed to Nicholas. ‘This city started a long time ago as a meetin’ place for the southern tribes of the Eastlands. Over the years the city built up and now you can’t hardly tell the city men are kin to the Jeshandi and the other plains tribes.’ Praji started cleaning his nails with the point of his dagger. ‘Each tribe had a King, see, and each year it was a different tribe’s turn to preside over the annual meetin’. That sort of turned into each year the city got a different King hell-bent on getting even for whatever the other Kings did to his tribe for the thirteen years before – fourteen big tribes, you see?
‘Anyway, the folks who lived in the city got pretty tired of it after a couple of hundred years and there was a big revolt, and when it was over, all fourteen Kings and quite a number of their kinfolk was dumped into this here lake. That’s why it’s the
Lake of the Kings.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Nicholas, as Marcus and Harry came to sit and listen. They were now about halfway across the lake and could see another river emptying out of it, a river that seemed to wind around to the east side of the city.
‘Well, for a while they tried getting along without rulers, but after a few major fires and some riots where hundreds died, they decided that was a stupid idea, and they decided their clan chiefs could have this council. As there was members of the same clan in more than one tribe, that seemed fair, and nobody got too upset, and things was pretty good, as I hear it, for a few hundred years.’
‘Then the Overlord showed up?’ said Harry.
‘Well, he was around for a while, I guess,’ said Praji. He scratched his chin. ‘I’ve heard a few stories here and there about who he was, but nobody knows for sure. It doesn’t pay to ask questions in too many places.’
‘Secret police?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Called the Black Rose, if you can swallow that. Run by somebody known only as “the Controller,” and nobody knows who he is. Some folks figure it’s what keeps Dahakon in check; others think Dahakon is the Controller. Nobody I know knows, that’s a fact.’
Praji put up his knife. ‘Here’s what I do know about the Overlord. His name is Valgasha, which isn’t a Jeshandi name, nor from anyplace I’ve ever been. He’s a tall man, ’cause I seen him once on a parade day at the End of Summer Festival. Big as your friend Ghuda, I’d say. Looks about thirty, but I hear he looks like he did the day he took control, and with those stories about his magician, who knows. Has a pet eagle he hunts like a falcon. Folks say that it’s a magic bird.’
Nicholas asked, ‘How much longer to the city?’
Praji said, ‘Not too much longer.’ He pointed to a distant stand of trees on the far shore. ‘Lake empties over there, into the river that leads around the city.’
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