The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2)

by Scott Michael Decker

  A few minutes later, Scratching Wolf said, “Listen, Lord Captain, there'll be the Infinite to pay for lodging these charges against the Sorcerer himself.” The Colonel scratched his arm.

  “I know it, Lord Colonel,” Probing Gaze said tersely, factually.

  * * *

  Scratching Wolf considered his approaches. His subordinate having the will of rock, he decided on rock. “What's with you, eh? You've trained a battalion of warriors to such ferocity that your losses are the fewest since the bandit general ensconced himself in that fortress just across the border. Your subordinates and superiors respect you, and you have a great career in the Eastern Armed Forces ahead of you. I order you to wipe your ass on this piece of parchment. If you file these charges, Lord Captain, they'll arrow their way into your back passage—guaranteed!” The Colonel scratched his armpit.

  Probing Gaze frowned, looked at the map, then returned his gaze to his superior. “Forgive me, Lord Colonel, but I must disobey that order,” he replied, his voice calm. “How did I gain that respect, Lord? What did I do to garner that face? I listened to my conscience. Nothing but my own scruples guides my behavior. Lord Colonel, that man broke the law. No man's beyond the justice demanded by the law, not even the Lord Emperor Arrow. Lex talionis is the basis of our society, or as the Book of the Infinite reads, 'an eye for an eye.' We both know the result when even one member of this society is above the law—anarchy. I'd rather gouge out my own eye than withdraw those charges. If I did withdraw them, I might as well gouge out both, because I wouldn't have the spine to look at my reflection anymore. I'm filing those charges and Infinite take the consequences!”

  The Colonel scratched his chin, watching his subordinate.

  * * *

  Probing Gaze returned his superior's gaze levelly, fearlessly. His face solid, he questioned his own motives.

  Perhaps Spying Eagle had infected him with insubordination.

  Probing Gaze felt outraged that the Sorcerer had ordered the Wizard captured, interrogated and conscripted for the simple expedient of preserving Arrow Sovereignty. The Wizard's disposal was unjustifiable. The charges were the eye for the eye.

  Or were they? Probing Gaze wondered. Isn't Spying Eagle capable of settling his own feud? he asked himself.

  The Wizard was more than capable. Lurking Hawk, though, had also broken the law in evading and psychically assaulting Imperial warriors. That's my motivation for filing the charges! he thought. Satisfied his own motives were ethical, Probing Gaze waited.

  * * *

  The Colonel scratched his calf, continuing to stare at the man.

  A pyrathon of the pure-heat variety, Scratching Wolf didn't indulge in face or ostentation. Pyrathons of fire and light disgusted him, bent on impressing others with their pyrotechnics. Scratching Wolf's talent was more destructive. Every erg he generated infused the object or person without loss to light.

  The Colonel scratched his neck.

  Unfortunately, he had a peculiar condition that no psychological Wizard could cure. Most people, as long as they didn't deplete their psychic reserves, used their talents at whatever rate they chose. Scratching Wolf's reserves had a minor malfunction. When they reached capacity, his skin developed a rash that itched like the Infinite. The inflammations might appear anywhere on his body.

  The Colonel scratched his hand.

  As long as Scratching Wolf used his talent regularly, his skin remained unblemished. Once, however, the Southern Armed Forces had captured and imprisoned him. They'd dampered his cell, and in less than a week he was near death from rash. Before the rash became fatal, the Eastern Empire had repatriated him in an exchange of prisoners. Conceivably, his skin could kill him if he didn't or couldn't use his pyrokinesis.

  The Colonel scratched his sternum.

  Scratching Wolf was fast reaching the conclusion that nothing would divert or compromise Probing Gaze. Enough time had passed that if the Captain had decided by now to file the charges, then he wouldn't consider a compromise. Scratching his elbow, the Colonel guessed as well that the sectathon would pay for it.

  Infinite knows there are ways to avoid redress, Scratching Wolf thought, his gaze never leaving the sectathon's face. “I don't like to lose good men, Lord Captain. So I have an idea that will remove you beyond the Sorcerer's reach.

  “Two months ago, the Lady Matriarch Water swept out the Nest bureaucracy. Well, a young man fitting your description escaped the executioner's blade and fled to the Windy Mountains. Thirty such fugitives became bandits.”

  Probing Gaze smiled. “I like that idea, Lord Colonel.”

  The Colonel scratched his stomach. “You don't even know what it'll entail, Lord Captain.”

  “It doesn't matter, Lord Colonel,” Probing Gaze replied. “To keep my head for being a loyal citizen of the Empire, I'll have to expatriate myself for a few years, eh? What better way to do it than that?”

  “I thought you might be amenable, but I didn't think you'd leap, Lord Captain.”

  Probing Gaze smiled, looking at a map on the wall.

  Scratching Wolf followed his gaze. “Three years ago, I assumed command here, which displeased a few bureaucrats in line for the position. Almost no one had heard of me. Some thought my appointment political—granted on the basis of my lineage only, and not on my accomplishments or my ability to command. For four years, I served in Eyry as a Major on the southern border. In my last position, where I served five years, I proved my worth beyond all doubt. One responsibility of that position was that I find others to do as I did.” The Colonel scratched his forehead.

  “To be a spy amidst bandits takes a special man. One who has little need of friends and family. With determination and stamina beyond all reasonable expectations. Dedicated and loyal to the Empire to such a degree that living among bandits won't corrupt him. Willing to endure the worst this world can offer. Able to spit in the face of the Infinite and walk away unscathed. You, Lord Captain, are just such a man.”

  * * *

  Probing Gaze looked at his superior dubiously. He'd rarely considered how others might perceive him. His guiding moral principle was the safety of his battalion and of his Empire. He wasn't popular among his subordinates for his uncompromising attitudes. Respected, yes, but not popular.

  The Colonel scratched his buttock. “Your duties as spy are as follows: To infiltrate and emulate the bandits whatever your assignment, to collect information on their numbers, weapons, customs, habits, living conditions, affiliations, organizations. You'll send that information to your contacts, of course. At times you'll investigate a single bandit or group of bandits, and at times you'll be free to roam and socialize with them as you see fit. Near the conclusion of your tour of duty, you'll accomplish a goal that'll make any return to the bandits impossible, more than likely an assassination. When your tour's done, you'll choose fifty men to follow in your footsteps. When I became a spy, I never thought choosing others would be more difficult than the spying itself. The cold fact is, Lord Captain, I'm sending you to your death.”

  Probing Gaze nodded solemnly.

  The Colonel scratched his knee. “For every month you spy on bandits, you'll accrue your regular salary plus a week of inactive pay at your present rate plus hazardous-duty pay. Don't expect any vacations. If you cross the border for a week of leisure and then return to the bandits, they'll hack you to pieces. Don't take anything of value, because they'll kill you to get it. I suggest you leave your sword behind and learn to use one of conventional length. The fewer distinguishing characteristics you have, the longer you'll survive. Finally, don't try to enlist in Scowling Tiger's band, because that animal will spot you and kill you.”

  “The tiger, Lord? Is that why we haven't heard a peep from our mice inside the fortress?”

  “That's the reason, Lord. Thankfully, I served my term before the expatriate acquired the animal—or I'd have been feline food as well.” Scratching Wolf chuckled. “I spent three years in the fortress. Even the Wizard Melding Min
d examined me, but they never knew I was a spy. You'll have an implant with all the needed information. Not a pleasant experience, but vital if you're to survive among them.”

  Leaning forward, Scratching Wolf continued. “Just one more matter that concerns me, Lord Captain. I've recruited twenty men like you, and none of them assented as quickly. Why don't you have any reservations?”

  Probing Gaze looked again at the map on the wall.

  Depicted was the Windy Mountains. A dark red line representing the border bisected the map.

  “Lord Wolf, I've fought bandits for six years. I feel tired from giving so much and getting so little in return. I've trained my men to the cutting edge of fighting skill, and the attrition rate is still unacceptably high. It doesn't have anything to do with the abilities of our warriors, Lord. It's the situation. The bandits are free to move where they will, to strike from any place beyond the dark red line.” He nodded at the map. “We simply don't have enough warriors to contain them. How much of the territory on this side of the mountains have we ceded because we just can't defend it?

  “Lord Colonel, you know what the situation is like along the southern border, eh? Villages within a few feet of the border, factories within a mile, and rarely a problem with the Southern Empire. Oh, during the occasional border skirmish, a few peasants might have to move away for a month or two, but the land is Eastern Empire territory and used as such.

  “Along the Windy Mountains, no one dares cultivate land within fifty miles. Even here in Burrow, the only people living north of the garrison don't have the means to live elsewhere, eh? Here at the northern border we occupy the land only at the sufferance of bandits, and not because the land is ours. I've done all I can on this side of the border, Lord. It's time I do what I can on the other side.”

  The Colonel scratched his temple. “In weighing your aptitude for being a spy, Lord Captain, I didn't consider how your dissatisfaction would influence your decision.” Scratching Wolf frowned at Probing Gaze. “Frankly, my concern is that you're close to becoming a bandit. I'm not impugning your loyalty, Lord, which I don't doubt for a minute. However, any strongly held belief can and sometimes does result in two dispositions of exact antithesis. The depth of your loyalty for the Empire might evolve into a hatred for those who rule it, eh?”

  Probing Gaze looked puzzled.

  “Well, I see you don't understand. All right.” Scratching Wolf sighed. “Look at Scowling Tiger. Years ago, he was Commanding General of the Eastern Armed Forces and President of the Imperial Ruling Council, with his whole life ahead of him and the Eastern Empire groveling at his feet. What happened to him, Lord Gaze? How did he get there?” Scratching Wolf pointed northward out the window, where the snowstorm hadn't abated a bit. “No one ever questioned his loyalty to the Empire. My opinion is that his loyalty hasn't abated a bit. All that has changed is his chosen manner of expressing that loyalty. What about you, Lord Gaze? Will your expression of loyalty change?”

  Probing Gaze looked out the window.

  * * *

  If he'd answered immediately, I'd have changed my mind, Scratching Wolf thought. A person who doesn't examine his motives is one who doesn't care what they are.

  “I understand your reservations, Lord Wolf,” Probing Gaze said. “Several factors would affect my loyalty, but all those factors would have to change before my loyalty made such a shift.”

  “See that they don't, Lord,” Scratching Wolf replied. “Consider these facts as well: First, of every ten spies we send across the border, one turns rogue. Second, of those ten, six die during the first year. Third, only one in a hundred survives the maximum five-year tour. Fourth, other spies will watch you, and should you turn rogue, you'll die on their blades. So I must ask again: Do you want to become a spy?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  The Colonel scratched his scrotum. “Good. You'll undergo a psychological examination, of course, and the implantation. They're only formalities for you. I wish you the luck of the Infinite, because you'll need it all.”

  “Thank you, Lord. When can I leave?”

  Scratching Wolf smiled. “All in good time, Lord. Right now, I want to talk to the Lord Corporal Eagle.”

  “He's standing guard on the northern battlements, Lord, out in that.” He gestured at the nearly solid wall of white beyond the window.

  The Colonel scratched his foot. “Let's go talk to him.” Rising, he circled the desk, pulled his white parka and leggings off wall hooks. Slipping them on, Scratching Wolf secured his sword to the parka and gestured Probing Gaze to lead the way.

  “Other commanders would've ordered the Corporal into the office, Lord Colonel,” the sectathon said. Similarly clad, he secured his clothing for the cold, leading the way through the outer offices to the stairs. His fur-lined moccasins whispered down stone steps.

  The wind nearly tore the door from his hand. The two men strode through the courtyard, their feet kicking up flurries of powder. Gusting winds whipped them away. Stinging snowflakes nearly blinding them, they passed through several gates, each battlement rising forty feet above them.

  At the outermost gate, Scratching Wolf stopped beside a charred log protruding from the ground. Beside it was a battered bucket and a barrel filled with snow and ice. The log burst into flame. Melting the water in the barrel, Scratching Wolf scooped out a bucket full and doused the flame. “I feel much better.” Dropping the bucket beside the barrel, he gestured toward the stairs.

  Probing Gaze led the way up, passing sentries and nodding to their obeisances.

  At the northeast corner, crouched in the lee of a parapet crenellation, Spying Eagle bowed to his two superiors, the parka face mask concealing all but his eyes.

  The Colonel didn't scratch himself.

  Flinging stinging snow, the wind howled mercilessly.

  If we try to talk in this wind, Scratching Wolf decided, it'll only snatch the words from our mouths. He gestured them to a stairwell leading to the guard station beneath the battlement. In the diminished noise, the Colonel unstrapped his face mask, and the other two did likewise. Easing himself to a step, he pulled a portable shield from his belt and switched it on. The other two men stood on steps below, their eyes level with his.

  The Colonel didn't scratch himself. “Infinite be with you, Lord Corporal.” Scratching Wolf looked closely at the other man's face—and recognized him instantly.

  Brown of hair, of eye, of skin, Spying Eagle bowed.

  “Lord Gaze, check the guard station below. If it's empty, we'll go down there. And get a replacement for the Corporal's post.” The Colonel didn't avert his gaze from the Corporal's face.

  “Yes, Lord.” Turning, the sectathon descended.

  Spying Eagle fidgeted. “Congratulations on your daughter's pregnancy, Lord Colonel.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” Scratching Wolf replied, “but no thank you. Flowering Pine isn't my daughter, despite her mother's claims.”

  Spying Eagle looked even more uncomfortable.

  “Clear down here, Lord,” Probing Gaze said from below.

  “Please, Lord.” Gesturing, Scratching Wolf rose and descended after the younger man.

  Shutting the door behind them, Scratching Wolf signaled the Captain to stand with his back to it and to turn on the shields. Grabbing himself a chair, he sat. He turned off the portable shield in his hand, hooking it onto the weapons belt beneath his parka. “I understand you encountered the Sorcerer last night, Lord Corporal.”

  “Yes, Lord Colonel.” Spying Eagle looked more calm.

  “Why do you suppose he was there?”

  “I don't know, Lord Colonel.”

  Scratching Wolf nodded, then shrugged. “Speculate for me, Lord.”

  Spying Eagle glanced back at the door. “Forgive me, Lord Colonel, but I don't trust electrical shields. May I have your permission to probe your personal shields, to check that they're adequate?”

  “Eh? What's this nonsense? What's the matter with the shields?”

 
“They're not impervious, Lord Colonel.”

  “Only the Emperor using the Sword can penetrate them,” Scratching Wolf scoffed.

  “Forgive me, Lord Colonel, but you're wrong. I can penetrate them.”

  Scratching Wolf and Probing Gaze glanced at each other. Shields were impervious to all probes but the Emperor Arrow's. “I don't believe you.” Pulling the portable shield back off his belt, he set its range to shield only him. “Show me.”

  Spying Eagle blinked his eyes and the shield shut itself off.

  Scratching Wolf checked the readout. “Disabled. As if you were the Emperor, Lord Corporal.” He shook his head. “At first, I came here to question you about the Sorcerer and the events after you treated the Lord General Guarding Bear. Now this. Infinite blast me, nothing's simple anymore!” Scratching Wolf decided not to mention Spying Eagle's uncanny resemblance to the Wizard who now served the bandit general.

  Spying Eagle frowned in consternation.

  Did he read my thoughts? Scratching Wolf wondered, sighing. “You'll just have to trust the shields, Lord Corporal. The Sorcerer first. While battling him, did you get even a hint of why he came north?” Usually, peripheral energy accompanied any talent use. Such inadvertent expenditure sometimes carried information such as motive, affect, thought, memory. Scratching Wolf watched the young man think.

  “I think, Lord Colonel, to meet someone. He has good discipline with his talents, as you might expect. Very little in his expenditures shouldn't have been there.”

  “To meet someone, eh? Good, Lord Corporal, exactly what I wanted to know. A description, some physical characteristic of the person he was meeting, anything would be helpful.”

  The Wizard closed his eyes, his palms open and limp, his shoulders sagging, his head bent forward. “Wood,” the man whispered slowly, his body swaying as if he were deep in a trance. “Pair … pay…”

  Scratching Wolf listened with his mind, Spying Eagle having lowered his shields. The memory was horrible. The Colonel raised his shields, a shiver shaking him. Thank the Infinite, I was elsewhere, he thought.