book1

by Fire

  “Not all of them. We left to scout the pass before they’d all arrived.”

  “Two thousand? Three?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How many were there when you left?”

  “A lot. Maybe two thousand.”

  “Maybe more?”

  “Maybe.”

  There was a pause, and the Chett on the ground eagerly looked up at the female. She shook her head, and the Chett looked disappointed.

  “So Rendle has a thousand riders himself now?”

  “I already told you.”

  “And at least another two thousand regulars?”

  “I think so. Maybe more.”

  “When are they moving into the Oceans of Grass?”

  “I told you before, I don’t know. They don’t tell me those sorts of things.”

  “You must have heard rumors.”

  The mercenary closed his eyes. He had given away so much already, if only he could hold on to some of his secrets, the Chetts might yet pay for what they were going to do to him.

  “No.”

  “All right,” the female said. At first the mercenary slumped in relief, but then realized she had been talking to the Chett with the sword who was advancing on him. Just then the tent flap parted and another Chett walked in.

  At least, the mercenary thought, he dressed like a Chett. But he was shorter than any Chett he had ever seen. The man’s hat was low over his face and he could not see what he looked like.

  “Have you got what we need?” the newcomer asked.

  “All except when,” Korigan said.

  “Leave me with him.”

  The two other Chetts left. The mercenary sat up straighter, struggled uselessly against his bonds. The short Chett just looked at him.

  “I told the woman everything I know.”

  Still the man said nothing.

  The mercenary licked his chafed lips, but his mouth did not have enough spit left to do any good. “Just kill me. Get it over with.”

  The man removed his hat, and the mercenary got his first glimpse of his face. He used his heels to push himself away.

  The man crouched down and his right hand shot out to grasp the mercenary by his cheeks. The mercenary yelped but could do nothing against the strength of that grip. He was forced to look again at the scarred, ivory-white face.

  “What are you?”

  “You do not know me?”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” the man said. The mercenary closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. “Unless you tell me what I want to know. Let’s start with your name.”

  “Arein,” the mercenary said. He opened his eyes again, feeling a slender thread of hope for the first time since his capture.

  “Arein, I need to know when Rendle is coming over the mountains.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Arein tried to shake his head. “No,” he said pitifully.

  “I am the White Wolf.”

  “Oh God, oh God ...”

  “I am going to eat you alive.”

  “... oh God, oh God ...”

  “Tell me what I need to know, and I promise you will live.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because the White Wolf never lies.”

  “I don’t know any white wolf.”

  “You know me, Arein. You know Prince Lynan Rosetheme.” The man took an amulet from beneath his poncho.

  “The Key of Unity!” Arein looked up surprised. “No, you can’t be the prince.”

  The man grinned mirthlessly. “I have changed. But I am Prince Lynan. I told you the White Wolf never lies. I have no need to. Now, tell me when Rendle is coming over the mountains.”

  “Before ...” Arein stopped himself. No. He was going to die. This mad thing was going to kill him, he was sure. The grip on his cheeks tightened and he cried in pain. “Before winter is over!” he blurted, and the pain went away.

  The man straightened. “Before winter is over. Are you sure?”

  “Rendle wants Prince Lynan to help Salokan invade Grenda Lear.” Arein looked up at the man’s face and again saw the Key of Unity. “He wants you.”

  The prince turned on his heel and opened the tent flap. “We have what we want,” he said to someone, and the woman returned, this time accompanied by a man who was as huge as the prince was small.

  “Good,” the giant said. “We can kill him now.”

  “No,” Lynan said.

  Kumul looked as if he was about to argue, but remembered they were in front of the prisoner. He glanced at Korigan, who seemed as mystified as he was. “Your Highness, can we talk outside for a moment?”

  As soon as they were outside, Kumul asked Lynan if he had other questions he wanted to ask.

  “I’ve no more questions,” Lynan admitted.

  “We can’t just let him go—” Kumul started.

  “I didn’t say we would let him go. At least not yet.”

  “We can’t keep him with us,” Korigan said. “The clan has no one to look after a prisoner.”

  “He will stay here, at the High Sooq, after we have gone.

  There will be no need to set a guard on him because he cannot go anywhere. When it is time to release him, we will send a message to Herita.“

  Kumul scratched his head. “I don’t understand your reasoning, Lynan. Why not just kill him?”

  “First, because I told him if he told the truth I would spare his life. Second, because I want our enemies to know that if they surrender to us, they will not be butchered out of hand.”

  “The Red Shields never took prisoners,” Kumul said gruffly.

  “Nor have the Chetts,” Korigan added.

  Lynan thought it ironic they were on the same side at last, but in opposition to him. “I will be fighting my own people,” he said. “I cannot help it. Sooner or later, I go up against the armies of Grenda Lear. You will be with me, Kumul. Both of us will almost certainly be facing people we once knew.”

  “War can be like that,” Kumul said.

  “We don’t kill those who surrender to us. I will not have my own people butchered by my own soldiers.”

  Kumul jerked a thumb at the tent. “He is a mercenary. Will you spare all of them as well? What of Rendle? Would you let him live if he surrendered? And Jes Prado?”

  “It will be hard for the Chetts to take any mercenaries prisoner during a battle,” Korigan said. “There is too much hatred for what they did to us in the Slaver War.”

  Lynan looked uncomfortable. “I do not include the mercenaries in any amnesty. But this one lives because I gave him my word.”

  Korigan nodded. “So be it,” she said.

  Lynan stared down Kumul until the giant reluctantly nodded his head. “I will do as you order,” he admitted. Then he looked up again, his eyes bright. “And now that we know what Rendle and Salokan plan, what will you do?”

  “When will the clans leave the High Sooq?” Lynan asked Korigan.

  “The time is near. I would say within ten days.”

  “If we wait that long,” Kumul said, “we will not make the Ufero Mountains in time.”

  “In time for what?” Lynan asked lightly.

  “To trap Rendle against them, of course,” Kumul declared, as if it was obvious. Lynan said nothing. Kumul shook his head. “You’re not going to do that, are you?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Lynan said. “I want more information.”

  “God’s death, Lynan, we have a good idea of how many ride with Rendle, and when and where they are coming over. What more could you want?”

  “It is still not enough. I want to know what is happening in the east before committing our forces.”

  “Surely they will be busy with Salokan,” Korigan said. “From what our guest revealed, Hume will be hard-pressed to survive the onslaught from Haxus.”

  “We have no word from Gudon. Until then, I will commit to no strate
gy.”

  “You will stay here like a paralyzed bug?” Kumul demanded.

  “No. We leave with the White Wolf clan. We will head east, taking our time.”

  “The spring grass will not be able to feed our whole army for long, your Majesty,” Korigan said.

  “I don’t intend for the army to be on the Oceans of Grass for long.”

  “But the army is here now,” Kumul said, his voice rising. “You have the instrument in your hands to destroy Rendle and his force as soon as he enters the Oceans of Grass.”

  “His force will be destroyed,” Lynan said. “But not then.” He faced Korigan. “Tell Term to take his clan out as soon as he can. I want him to patrol those passes Rendle will be using to get his army across the mountains. Terin is not to attempt to attack or harass them. When Rendle himself appears, Terin is to let us know. Once the mercenary force has left the mountains behind, Terin is to destroy any guard left behind and secure the passes so Rendle cannot retreat that way.”

  “I will see Terin right away,” Korigan said, and left them.

  Lynan nodded to a guard. “Bring out the prisoner.” The guard nodded and disappeared into the tent, reappearing a moment later with Arein. The mercenary was shaking, obviously thinking he was now going to be cut down.

  “You will stay here until I send word you are to be freed,” Lynan told him. The mercenary slumped in relief. “But if you try to escape, the Chetts will kill you outright. And if you have lied to me about Rendle and his movements, I will come back here and eat your heart.”

  Arein nodded numbly.

  “Let him go,” Lynan ordered, and the guard released his grip. Arein stood there uncertainly. “If you go to the heart of the sooq, you will find an elder named Herita. Tell her who you are, and what I have said. She will give you work to do, as well as shelter. The guard will show you the way.”

  The guard started off, with Arein following behind.

  Kumul shook his head. “I think this is a foolish thing you do,” he said quietly.

  “What particularly? Letting the prisoner go, or not attacking Rendle outright?”

  “Both.”

  “Neither is something my father would have done, I assume.”

  “No.”

  “Then I am already one up on my enemies,” Lynan said, and left Kumul to gape after him.

  Chapter 17

  Orkid found Olio in the palace forecourt watching the Royal Guard at training. The chancellor had seen the prince at training himself as he grew up, and although competent with a sword, he did not have the inclination to be a warrior. The question was, did Olio think so, too?

  “If only your army was as well equipped and trained as these fine troops,” Orkid said.

  Olio turned and smiled thinly at Orkid. “I did not hear you arrive, Chancellor. Forgive m-m-me for ignoring you.”

  Orkid waved a hand. “I was not offended. Have you seen any of your own soldiers yet?”

  “The Twenty Houses have almost finished m-m-mustering. I expect them to b-b-be ready within a few days. The first detachments from our other provinces arrive this afternoon; from Storia, I b—b-believe.”

  “I would have thought Kendra itself could have supplied you with some sword and spear companies.”

  “Three, in fact. They are already in b—b-barracks near the harbor, and will ship out as soon as Admiral Setchmar determines the worst of the winter seas are finished.”

  “And yourself? When do you leave to be their general?”

  “With the m-m-main b-b-body of troops. Twenty days at least. We m-m-march north from here to Sparro.”

  “Then on to Daavis and glory,” Orkid added.

  Olio looked at the ground, his uncertainty obvious. “Indeed,” he muttered.

  Orkid stood by his side. “Will you be taking the consort with you?”

  Olio looked up in surprise. “Sendarus? Why, no, of course not. He is just wed. I doubt he is so keen to leave Areava’s side. At any rate, m-m-my sister would not allow it.”

  “Sendarus might wish to go,” Orkid mused. “He is, after all, an Amanite warrior. It will be hard for him to see others marching to war while he stays behind to ...” He let his voice fade.

  “Coddle the queen, Chancellor?” Olio asked, his voice betraying his anger. “You at least should not think so p-p-poorly of your nephew.”

  “I would never doubt Sendarus’ motives. He is a good and honorable man. He would wish to go for the queen’s good, not his own.”

  If only it was Sendarus who was general instead of me, Olio thought miserably. Then he could go and I could stay behind where I will do the least harm.

  “At any rate, since you are general, he cannot go,” Orkid added offhandedly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it would make him subordinate to you.”

  “Only in the army. B-B-Besides, I do not think p-p-pride is one of Sendarus’ vices. Indeed, I am not sure he has any vices at all.”

  “I was not suggesting the problem stemmed from human vanity. It is only that he possesses, next to the queen, perhaps the greatest authority in the kingdom. There would be political and legal problems if that authority was submitted to your own.”

  Olio thought the point a fine one, too fine for him to consider seriously, but it did give him the germ of another idea. The Guards had finished their training and were marching back to their barracks. He started walking back to the palace. He motioned for Orkid to accompany him.

  “Do you think Sendarus is concerned that he is not going north with the army?”

  “Undoubtedly. But he understands the reasons. He is not angry with you, if that is your worry.”

  Olio shook his head. “No.” He frowned in thought for a moment, then said: “Do you think that if he had b-b-been consort at the council m-m-meeting that nominated m-m-my generalship, they would have given him the office?”

  Orkid pretended to consider the question. “I am not sure. Perhaps.” He pretended to think on it some more. “It is likely,” he said in a considered voice. “Now that you mention it, I think that it is likely. It would have been another way for Sendarus to prove his loyalty to Grenda Lear, and would have ensured the safety of the two surviving loyal Rosethemes.” The chancellor shrugged. “But such was not the case.”

  “No,” Olio said, more to himself than Orkid.

  “Do you need me for anything in particular, your Highness?” Orkid asked.

  Olio stopped and looked absently at the chancellor. “No. Thank you, but no.” He turned and continued, his head bowed in thought.

  Orkid watched him go, a smile crossing his stern face. That was easier than I had any right to expect.

  Primate Giros Northam was sitting behind his desk, his hands in his lap firmly clasping one another. He heard a knock at his door and swallowed quickly. “Come in,” he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice.

  Father Powl entered, closed the door behind him. “A brother said you wanted to see me, your Grace.”

  Northam nodded and indicated the priest should sit down. Powl took a chair and looked evenly at the primate, his features calm and interested.

  “There is something we must discuss,” Northam started. “Something important to you and to the Church of the Righteous God.”

  Northam saw Powl stiffen slightly. The priest had an inkling, then, of what he was leading to. “We have been friends for a very long time,” he went on. “Once, we were very close.”

  Powl evaded Northam’s gaze this time and nodded a little curtly; his face reddened slightly.

  “You do not agree?” Northam asked uneasily.

  Powl shook his head. “Of course I agree, your Grace. But that closeness ...”

  “Has gone, I know.”

  “And through your actions, not mine,” Powl added hurriedly, his eyes almost pleading.

  “I know that, too.” Northam sighed heavily, making his wattled neck shake slightly. “I wish it could have been done another way.”

&
nbsp; “You wish what could have been done another way?”

  “I am not sure how to explain this to you. It is a conversation we should probably have had months ago. You deserve the truth.”

  Powl’s face became calm suddenly, as if intuition warned him of what was coming. “This is about your successor, isn’t it?”

  Northam nodded. “You are not to know the true name of God. You cannot be its protector.”

  Powl nodded, too, echoing the primate’s movement, as if to say: “I understand. Of course.” But his eyes became hard and bright and he found he could not look at the primate’s face, so he stared at his superior’s bald head instead. “This is not right,” he said tightly.

  “It is right,” Northam stressed. “But it is not easy. Not for you. Not for me.”

  Powl’s head was now shaking. “No, your Grace. It is not right. How can it be? For decades you have trained me for this.”

  “I have never said so,” Northam said defensively.

  “Your intent was unmistakable,” Powl said. “You were not grooming me simply to be your secretary.”

  “You were a good novitiate, Father. You gained the attention of all your superiors. But you exceed your learning in believing you knew my thinking.”

  Powl fixed Northam in the eye. “Look at me, your Grace, and tell me you did not intend for me to be primate in your place when you passed on to God’s kingdom.”

  Northam could not. He averted his gaze, but saved some of his pride by not trying to lie about it again. “It was the queen,” he said hurriedly, then closed his eyes in shame. It was no longer any of Powl’s business how the decision had come about, and he should not have mentioned her in this business.

  “Areava?” Powl said disbelievingly. Not his Areava, surely...

  “Usharna,” Northam said. “She told me you could not be primate. She would not tolerate it.”

  “Usharna?” Powl looked mystified. “Why? And why are you obeying her now, when she is dead? What does her daughter say about this?”

  “Her daughter will not know. I promised Usharna I would nominate someone other than you to be my successor. She died before I could.”

  “Who ... who have you chosen to succeed you?”

  “I have not made up my mind. Not entirely.”