“Yes, Lord General,” Scratching Wolf said, stepping into the room.
“Congratulations on your daughter's pregnancy, Lord Wolf,” Whispering Oak said. “Will the twins be your first grandchildren?”
“Well, thank you, Lady Oak, but, uh, no thank you. The Lady Pine's not my daughter.” Scratching Wolf moved around the desk toward a chair.
Aged Oak nodded. “The Lady Consort shared a room with three other female servants for five years. They tell some interesting stories.”
Scratching Wolf scratched his head. “Forgive me, Lord Oak, didn't you want to brief me on the Lord General Bear's siege of the Tiger Fortress?”
Aged Oak laughed, his wrinkles wrinkling with hilarity. “For the siege, Lord Colonel, you'll house and feed twenty-four battalions. What more do you need to know?”
“Twenty-four? All but the reserves? Is the Lord General Bear Infinite-blessed?”
“No, he's not crazy, not at all. Just make the preparations, eh Lord Colonel? Do you need to know anything else about the siege?”
Scratching Wolf looked out the window toward the Tiger Fortress, scratching his head. “No, Lord General, I don't think so. Do you think we'll succeed?”
“Guarding Bear's like a bear latched onto the scent of a hive—he'll have his honey no matter the obstacles. So, perhaps you'd like to hear a few rumors about the Lady Consort, your reputed daughter?”
“Since I haven't really kept in touch with her these last few years, how she is does interest me. Lord General, Lady Oak, I don't like to encourage the rumormongers. I want to keep this between ourselves, eh?” Scratching his ear, the Colonel glanced at father and daughter for their assent. “I appreciate that.”
“May I ask, Lord Wolf, how you know she's not your daughter?”
Shrugging, Scratching Wolf shook his head. “I mated her mother Rustling Pine at my father's behest, Lady Oak. Part of his political alliance with the Lord General Bear. I never loved her, despite our staying mated for eight years. Our fornication was invigorating, pleasant for us both, but every time I killed my seed. I didn't want her to bear my children. When I mated her, Rustling Pine already had an infant son, an illegitimate boy to whom I gave my patronym. That was part of the bargain. She'd gotten into trouble. To save her face, the Lord General asked me to mate her and adopt her son.”
“Flowering Pine was born while you and her mother were mates?”
The Colonel nodded, scratching his eyebrow.
“So you don't really know if she's your daughter, do you, Lord?”
“Not to be impertinent, Lady Oak, but any idiot knows a red-haired woman isn't the issue of two brown-haired parents.”
Whispering Oak nodded. “Reasonable conclusion. Weren't you angry that she cuckolded you?”
“Not at all. As I said, we mated for convenience. I was happy to strengthen my father's political position. Rustling Pine was happy to have a name for her bastard and a cover for her illicit lover.”
“Do you know who Flowering Pine's father is, Lord Wolf?”
“Not the slightest idea. I didn't want to know.”
Whispering Oak looked at her father.
“I don't have any questions,” Aged Oak replied. “Go ahead, Daughter, tell him what you told me.”
Nodding, Whispering Oak began to recount what she'd learned from other servants in the House of Oak.
“Liaisons?” Scratching Wolf asked. “She was a spy?”
Whispering Oak added, “Perhaps more than a spy. One servant overheard her issuing commands to one of these liaisons. The servant didn't recognize her voice, but did see her. The servant claims that she commanded the liaison to intercept a shipment of arrows from the factory in Cove. I checked it out—the shipment never made it to Burrow.”
“I don't believe it, Lady Oak,” Scratching Wolf said. “That's not the Flowering Pine I know. What about the servant's veracity?”
“It might have been a fabrication,” Whispering Oak replied, shrugging. “I wouldn't have believed it either, Lord, except that it checked out.”
“Lady Oak, I refuse to believe that a girl as nice as Flowering Pine would become involved with insurgents, much less command them.” Scratching Wolf shook his head. “She's not smart enough!”
Whispering Oak smiled. “So she appears. When we first hired her, insurgent activity was what you'd expect. The longer she was in Cove, the more that activity increased. Now that she's gone, it's back to normal.”
“I still don't believe it, Lady Oak,” Scratching Wolf said calmly.
“All right, Lord Wolf, but that's not everything. In addition to these late-night liaisons, she'd talk to herself on occasion as well. She spoke as if someone spoke to her. The servants who overheard these conversations never heard that person's voice. I'll give an example. 'Yes, Lady,' she'd say, then a few moments would pass. 'No, Lady, I didn't, but I tried.' Another few moments, then 'All right, Lady, if you insist I'll try that.'
“Most of these conversations were in whispers. Living in close quarters as most servants do, privacy is a luxury. From what I've learned, I'd guess she had these inner conversations every three or four nights. No way to know how often, not really.
“Also, she was subject to seizures of some kind,” Whispering Oak continued. “When one of her fellow servants asked, she laughed it off as mild epilepsy. If we'd known, we'd have had her see a psychologist. Epilepsy is curable, and we consider servants almost family in the House of Oak.”
The Colonel scratched his nose. “When she was a child, she had several problems. Seizures, palsies, fainting spells, and so on. A psychologist visited on a regular basis, once or twice a week, until she was seven years old, if I remember correctly.”
“Was he incompetent or something?” Aged Oak asked.
Scratching Wolf shrugged. “I never paid for any of it. I didn't take much of an interest in what he did. Is that excessive, Lord General?”
“Absolutely!” Aged Oak shook his head. “Most disorders are curable, whether physical or mental. The Wizard might need to adjust an implant once every six months or so, but every week? Something's not right about that.”
“I did think it odd, Lord General,” Scratching Wolf replied, nodding. “I also thought it strange that she had money for treatment and education, but that Rustling Pine never got a tael of it. I provided well for the family when she and I were together. After we dissolved the mateship, they barely subsisted. Perhaps the father left them a bequest, a trust fund for the children's education and treatment, eh? When I heard she enrolled in school to become a servant, I wondered where she got the money, but I didn't question it too closely. I felt satisfied she had the motivation to make something of her life. The Infinite didn't exactly bless her with superior intelligence.”
Whispering Oak laughed. “That's an understatement!” Then she asked, “How did you feel about the children, Lord Wolf, if I may ask?”
“Well, actually, Lady Oak, I was ambivalent about them. Not indifferent, which is different. I was rarely indifferent. My own attitudes—the way my feelings changed, at times suddenly—finally led me to conclude what their talents are. As young children, Flaming Wolf and Flowering Pine hadn't shown more than a trace of any talent. I thought, as much of a hoarder as Rustling Pine is, perhaps she'd withheld the bestowal at birth, eh? That wasn't it at all. She gave them plenty of her reserve when they were born. Plenty.
“When I was with them and they liked me, I loved them dearly. I thought they were the most wonderful human beings the Infinite had ever created. When they weren't around, I just thought they were nice children. When they felt displeased with me, I felt so guilty and miserable that I wanted to do everything I could to regain their favor. Have you ever met Rustling Pine? I've heard other people call her a conniving snake. She's a compliant and obedient woman compared to her children. Flowering Pine and Flaming Wolf are so manipulative that Flowering Pine's becoming the Consort doesn't surprise me. Neither does her conceiving a child for an Emperor with an empty q
uiver.”
Aged Oak frowned, puzzled. “How's this related to her talent, Lord Wolf?”
“I just told you, Lord, her talent is persuasion.” Then Scratching Wolf frowned. “That really doesn't describe it either. She has the ability to alter how you feel about her.”
“Consciously?” Whispering Oak asked.
“I doubt it's conscious, Lady Oak. When she was young, I confronted her about it. She always denied being manipulative.” Shrugging, the Colonel scratched his arm. “You might check with a psychologist. Perhaps that's a symptom of the same disorder.”
Aged Oak nodded. “Pathological manipulators will say or do almost anything to make you feel what they want you to feel.”
Scratching Wolf nodded. “That certainly describes Flowering Pine.”
Aged Oak frowned, wondering how he'd been so blind to it.
Chapter 17
Why did Scowling Tiger wait more than fifteen years to unite the bandits? Unquestioned sovereign of the Tiger Fortress until his assassination in 9318, the bandit general was the most popular, successful and famous of all bandits in the empty northern lands. Yet, not until the Arrow Twins were born in 9303 did Scowling Tiger seek to unite his fellow bandits. Was it a measure of his conviction that Flying Arrow would die without an heir? Why, even in the face of Flowering Pine's pregnancy, did he cling to the expectation of a volatile interregnum? How many other people held fast to this belief?—The Fall of the Swords, by Keeping Track.
* * *
On the morning of the earthquake, three strangers visited the caves of Leaping Elk.
The first to arrive was Icy Wind, bathed and groomed but wearing the same rags he always wore. His stench hadn't diminished.
“Lord Icy Wind,” Fawning Elk said, greeting the old man at the entrance. “Infinite be with you. I'm Fawning Elk.” She glanced at her mate, as though asking silently, “You did ask him to bathe, didn't you?”
Leaping Elk responded to the look with a small nod and a small shrug.
“And with you, Lady Elk.” Icy Wind bowed. “I see you have a sword in the forge—congratulations.”
Fawning Elk returned the deficient obeisance. “Thank you, Lord Wind,” she replied, her eyes watering. “So glad you could join us to break the sleeping fast. The Elk Raiders have recently purloined a large quantity of silk. To show our remorse for the Lord Elephant's snooping around your abode, my mate and I wish to offer you a few new robes, Lord.”
“That's very kind of you, Lady Elk. I don't need new clothes.”
“I insist, Lord Wind,” she replied. “Come this way.” Turning, she walked toward an alcove hewn from the side of the cavern.
Icy Wind followed obediently, glancing back helplessly.
There, she began to make him new clothing. He protested he didn't need them. She was adamant, suggesting that if he didn't accept, he wouldn't eat.
Acquiescing, he submitted to what he called “the indignity.”
Leaping Elk smiled, watching his mate talk the old man out of his lousy rags. Near the firepit was a table, laid out upon it a sumptuous banquet in Icy Wind's honor. Rarely did the Elk Raiders eat so well. Their usual fare was whatever they might salvage from larder or pantry, or whatever remained from the meal the evening before.
Since Fawning Elk's arrival, a period of only a week, the caves had become “almost livable,” in her oft-expressed opinion. First, she'd requested that everyone cover the entrances to their alcoves, the activity inside visible to any member who cared to look. Then she'd organized crews to clean the central cavern on a regular basis, the area usually a mess. Afterward, she'd centralized the band's supply rooms, no one ever able to find anything. She'd then assigned communal cooking duties on a rotating basis, most having fended for themselves. Finally, she'd organized regular meetings for the airing of grievances.
She's slowly civilizing us all, Leaping Elk thought, amused.
Fawning Elk's efforts weren't without resistance. Already, thirty of the five hundred members had complained about this demanding woman with the tongue of honey and fist of steel. Leaping Elk had told the disgruntled individuals that he understood the dissatisfaction, that he bore the person no ill will, that nothing bound him or her to stay, that other bands would probably welcome the person.
Half the complainants had chosen to live elsewhere.
Most of her changes were in matters Leaping Elk found beneath his attention, and the group had benefitted from them all. The discipline she enforced upon the caves was likely to attract a higher-quality bandit. Leaping Elk wouldn't miss those who couldn't abide by his new mate or the changes she'd wrought.
While Fawning Elk talked the clothes off Icy Wind, the second visitor arrived. One of the sentries guarding the entrance appeared on the ledge above his leader. “Lord Elk,” the sentry said, “a stranger requests audience with you. His name's Flashing Blade.”
“You him in send, Lord, eh?”
“Yes, Lord.” The sentry retreated.
Flashing Blade had earned his name fighting for the Tiger Raiders, Leaping Elk knew. Turning toward the entrance, he wondered why the man had come.
Striding up the passageway, Flashing Blade moved with fluid deliberation.
Watching him, Leaping Elk wouldn't have guessed he was faster than a cobra.
His hair brown, his eyes black and his build small, Flashing Blade bowed.
Leaping Elk nodded to acknowledge. “Infinite with you be, Blade Flashing Lord.”
“And you, Lord Leaping Elk. May I speak with you alone?”
Nodding, he gestured the other man to follow.
Privacy in the caves was a rare commodity, a condition plaguing most small, confined communities. For the occasional need, they'd hewn a small chamber from the rock near the entrance. The chamber even had a door—the only real door throughout the caves.
Into this room the two men went. Spare, simple cushions were the only furniture, the floor uncarpeted, the walls unadorned.
Leaping Elk invited the other man to sit. “How humble bandit Blade Flashing Lord serve?”
The man pulled a portable shield off his belt. “May I, Lord?” At the other's nod, Flashing Blade turned it on. Psychic silence enclosed them. “The Lord General Scowling Tiger sends his blessings to the Lord Leaping Elk. The Lord General also appreciates the Lord Elk's coming to the Lord General's humble abode a week ago.
“The Lord General Scowling Tiger formally invites the Lord Leaping Elk to a conference of all bandit nobles at the Tiger Fortress two weeks hence. The purpose of the conference is to unite all bandits against their common enemy, the Empire.
“The Lord General Scowling Tiger politely asks the Lord Leaping Elk to attend in person. Any trusted lieutenants or mates are welcome as well. The Lord General Scowling Tiger understands also that the Lord Leaping Elk may feel reluctant for whatever reason to attend. The Lord General suggests that the day before the conference, a member or members of the Tiger Raiders visit the Lord Elk's abode until he returns home.
“The Lord General Scowling Tiger requests a reply at least two days before the conference. He looks forward to seeing the Lord Elk again in the very near future. Until then, the Lord General Scowling Tiger wishes the Infinite to be with the Lord Leaping Elk.” Flashing Blade bowed.
Leaping Elk nodded, surprised only that Scowling Tiger had waited so long to begin bandit unification. He didn't question the sincerity. The “member or members” who'd “visit” were hostages to guarantee the participants' safety.
“Humble bandit messenger thank, for invitation honor, Blade Lord,” he said, speaking slowly. “Humble bandit question ask?”
“It'd be an honor to answer any question I can, Lord Elk.”
“Who else at conference be, Blade Lord?”
“Every leader with a band over a thousand members, Lord Elk. Due to your eminent station, Lord, and because of your kindness in the past, the Lord General decided to include you as well.”
“Humble bandit appreciate. Guest St
ag Bucking Lord include?”
“The invitation, yes, does include Bucking Stag. Of course, he lives farther west than you, Lord Elk. I haven't yet spoken with him, so whether he'll attend is in the hands of the Infinite, eh?”
Leaping Elk nodded. “Stag Bucking Lord go, then humble bandit offend, fight provoke want, eh?”
“What, Lord, please excuse me?” Flashing Blade asked.
The Southerner didn't even try. Instead he sent his question, knowing his speech at times unfathomable.
He and the Westerner Bucking Stag had feuded periodically from the time Leaping Elk had been Leaping Jaguar, the Southern Heir. Neither man trusted the other. Leaping Elk could put aside his antipathy for a short time, but doubted that Bucking Stag could do the same.
Nodding, Flashing Blade smiled. “The Lord General Scowling Tiger understands, and he swears by the Infinite to obliterate the band of any leader who breaks the peace during the conference. He encourages all bandit leaders to admonish their members that he will punish any hostilities. For this conference, the Lord General Tiger wishes to hang an Inviolate Insignia of sorts over the Windy Mountains.”
Smiling, Leaping Elk nodded slowly, the bandit general having foreseen friction between some leaders. “Tiger Scowling General Lord good idea have. Humble bandit at conference be, Infinite willing.”
Flashing Blade smiled again. “I'll convey your reply to the Lord General. Please forgive my intrusion upon your morning, Lord Leaping Elk. Thank you very much for your time and patience.”
“Not trouble, most welcome give, Blade Flashing Lord. Humble bandit Blade Lord ask, sleeping fast with humble bandit break?”
“As much as I'd like to, Lord, no. It smells wonderful, whatever you've prepared. I do need to go. Thank you, no, Lord Elk.”
The two men bowed to each other, and Leaping Elk led the way out. At the cave exit, the two men again exchanged bows, and Flashing Blade left.
“What are you doing with that?” Slithering Snake exclaimed behind him.
Leaping Elk looked.
Holding a bundle of ragged clothes, a woman near the fire said something to the sectathon.
The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2) Page 19