Snarling Jaguar thought through the choices carefully, convinced of a solution. There has to be a way to stop them!
Armed confrontation: The three Empires would have to send army after army into the northern lands to attack the bandits in their own lairs, to demolish the herds and the crops and the factories, to besiege Seat and the huge Tiger Fortress and the small caves of his brother Leaping Elk as well as the abodes of all bands of a size between. Confrontation would require the resources of all three Empires. The war would last ten years if not longer, and the northern lands would still lack an Emperor. The three Empires would have to repeat the process in twenty years' time. Armed confrontation was simply impractical.
Amnesty: If all three Emperors granted amnesty to all bandits, and repatriated every bandit to the Empire from which he or she had come, their numbers would dwindle—but only dwindle. Not even he, sagacious and beloved by his people as he was, could rule without engendering disaffection in someone. Even with four Empires, bandits would still exist. For the Eastern and Western Empires, which shared a border with the empty northern lands, any repatriated bandit could always be a spy. In addition, the bandit general Scowling Tiger had caused so much mischief for the Eastern Empire that the moment he stepped across the border he would die. Amnesty was impractical as well.
Recognition: If all three Emperors granted the Bandit Council official sanction, despite its violating all custom and tradition, the result would have almost no noticeable effect on the situation. Since Flying Arrow had the Northern Imperial Sword, the bandits would merely redouble their efforts to get it. For that was the ultimate prize. The Sword was the reason the bandits fought with such vigor, and died with the name of the Infinite on their lips. Flying Arrow would never, under any circumstances, relinquish the Sword. Recognition also was out of the question.
The only solution he saw wasn't a solution: The fall of the Eastern Empire. Infinite help us then! Snarling Jaguar thought. When bandits found the Imperial Sword in the rubble of Emparia Castle, then perhaps they would retreat in peace across the northern border. Perhaps though they would bring their anarchy south, against his Empire. After the Jaguar Dynasty fell, they would turn their attention westward. Then, Infinite forbid it, every man would fight for himself and civilization would crumble and the human race would revert to the primitive state out of which the Swords had helped it.
In less than a hundred years, we could all be living in caves again!
Oh, Infinite, save us from anarchy! he thought fervently.
Then he had an idea that at first intrigued him. What if the bandits were to stop being bandits? he wondered. The Eastern Empire would then survive. By building the infrastructure of the northern lands, instead of destroying the Empire across the border, the bandits might gain a legitimacy that had thus far eluded them.
Knowing the mentality of bandits, and especially that of Scowling Tiger, Snarling Jaguar guessed that the bandits would never abandon their assault on the Eastern Empire. Most of the bandits followed Scowling Tiger's lead, even adopting the bandit general's nomenclature. The names of other bands followed the same pattern as the Tiger Raiders. The Cougar Raiders, the Elk Raiders, the Stag Raiders, etc. Bandits in general worshiped the bandit general.
Sighing, knowing no solution, Snarling Jaguar looked around his sanctuary and prepared to leave. Putting his thoughts into compartments, he straightened papers haphazardly, glancing around to record what he saw in case an intruder found the place.
As he stood, a muted bell rang.
Immediately, he looked toward the dungeon exit. A sensor near the bottom of the stairwell had detected a spy or courier coming up. He slipped sword and sheath from sash, held the weapon loose in his hands and prepared to kill. He never knew if an assassin had compromised or killed the guard below. The Emperor, at sixty-seven, was still in as good a shape as he had been at fifty, if a little slower.
Patiently, he waited. The climb was long. Snarling Jaguar traversed it once a day to help him keep fit.
Still, he waited. The climb was exhausting, all three thousand sixty-four steps.
Like rock, he waited. The climb was difficult, each step a foot high.
Immobile, he waited. Too much time had passed, he decided.
Cautiously, he used the Sword to pull aside the tapestry that covered the entrance. Just then, a messenger whom Snarling Jaguar recognized fell into view, panting. The Emperor stepped into the stairwell to help the man, and half-carried, half-dragged him into the room. Propping him into the only chair, Snarling Jaguar gestured him to wait.
Shaking his head, the messenger said, “Can't wait, Lord.”
Frowning, Snarling Jaguar nodded. “Charade of hostility.”
The messenger's face and body lost all animation, then assumed the composure of Leaping Elk. He had sent a message that in words would have gone thus: “Greetings of the Infinite, brother and Lord Emperor. After thirty-one years, the lost Heir Sword has emerged! Seeking Sword, a member of my band, son of Icy Wind who I think was Lofty Lion, has the weapon and knows not what he wields!” The messenger then sent an image of the young man and the Sword itself while Leaping Elk was examining it. “I haven't told Seeking Sword, for I know the time isn't right. Since he looks so much like the Heir Flaming Arrow, I've ordered him disguised. Even so, many bandits, Scowling Tiger included, know what he looks like. No one, other than I and, I think, Icy Wind, knows the nature of his weapon. I've known this boy personally since Icy Wind wandered in shortly after his birth, for a reason I cannot say, I've had an interest in his education, despite the expense to myself and my band. He's had this Sword for ten years, since he was five years old. Like the Heir, he has no detectable psychic power. Like the Heir, no one's talent affects him. Like the Heir, he's fifteen. Like the Heir, he's a superb swordfighter. Like the Heir, he has bronze hair and gray-blue eyes. Like the Heir, he looks like Guarding Bear's brother Brazen Bear. Like the Heir, like the Heir, like the Heir. Lord Brother, I can't tell you why all these likes or what's happening. The Infinite has blinded my prescient sight to these two and my head's awhirl with implications and I feel I've had too much wine.” The image sent was of Leaping Elk sprawled on the floor. “When I dreamed sixteen years ago of death and destruction in the Windy Mountains, and of Scowling Tiger's death by blade, someone who looked like this Flaming Arrow and this Seeking Sword wielded that blade. I can't tell you now what the dreams meant. I can only bid you to walk with the Infinite, Lord Brother.”
As the message ended, the courier should have regained consciousness. An eternity later, Snarling Jaguar emerged from his thoughts and noticed the stench of voided bladder and bowel.
* * *
“Infinite blast it, why didn't the Usurper die?”
Easing Comfort chuckled. “That's the fourth time you've said that.”
“So? You tell me why he didn't die, eh?” she replied across a table of half-emptied plates.
Smiling, unperturbed, Easing Comfort looked from her to the girl. “Lady Quick,” the Wizard-medacor said, “tell us what happened, eh?”
“Everything went as planned, Lord Comfort: His profligate son responded to the implant exactly as he should have, but…” Thinking Quick closed her eyes, then shook her head. “I don't believe it! He fades from my sight!”
“What do you mean—'he fades'?” Purring Tiger asked.
“Remember I told you how I can't see Flaming Arrow and Seeking Sword? It's as if they're not even present when I consult the past, eh? Guarding Bear, though, is like a wraith—sometimes solid, sometimes insubstantial, sometimes invisible!”
Thinking Quick's talents included three types of time sight: Present, past and future, respectively called Extant, Temporal and Prescient.
Extant Sight, or viewing the present, was merely watching someone's current activities at a specific geographical location. As distance increased, clarity decreased proportionally. Anyone farther than five hundred miles was an indistinct blob, beyond recognition.
&nbs
p; Temporal Sight, or viewing the past, was simply seeing what had happened at some moment in the past, whether a minute, an hour, a year, or a century ago. The further back Thinking Quick searched, the less distinct events became. Clarity regressed from the specific actions of specific people, to the movements of small groups, to the general migrations of whole populations. Anything further in the past than a millennium was a blur.
In comparison, Prescient Sight, or viewing the future, was more complex than either extant or temporal sight or their combination. Looking into the future was analogous to—and infinitely more complicated than—watching ocean breakers while lying with one's head on the sand. The glimpses afforded were of the wave crests only. The events between waves hidden, the farther away the crest was the farther in the future and the more obscure the event. The waves came at her from every point in three dimensions—above and below, left and right, front and back, and every point between.
The four axes of Prescient sight were the geographical axis of extant sight, the base axis of temporal sight, all futures springing from some causal past, the time axis, and the axis of probability, the most intricate and multi-dimensional of all four axes.
The three sights grew exponentially more complex. A person might have only extant sight. Since temporal sight enabled the person to see the past up until the present, a person with temporal sight by default also had extant sight. The only distinction between them was the when of the event. Similarly, a person with prescient sight had to have both temporal and extant sight.
“He fades from my sight,” Thinking Quick said again. She looked at Easing Comfort. “You've talked with Leaping Elk, eh Lord? He has some prescient sight, mostly latent, right?”
Easing Comfort nodded.
“He told me not long ago that I'm invisible to his talent, which makes sense.” Thinking Quick chuckled. “I can imagine what would happen if two or more full-blown prescients tried to kill each other. What a tumult! Anyway, when he consults the future, I can't see him, but he doesn't fade as Guarding Bear does. I wonder if Guarding Bear has latent prescience. What do you think?”
“I don't know, Thinking Quick. His talent is remarkable. It protects him against everything, even the subterfuge of others. I also hear that it ingratiates him into others' confidences, but that's just a silly rumor.”
“No one else's talent can thwart yours—it's too strong.” Purring Tiger smiled at her young friend.
“No one has more power than the Infinite. Besides, if the morning of Bubbling Water's death were the only time it happened, I'd say your right,” Thinking Quick said. “Guarding Bear fades from the temporal scape several times. Once, about ten months before your birth, Purring Tiger. Once, a few days before Bubbling Water divined the conception of the twins.”
“Perhaps we shouldn't have counted on the mate-empathy link.” Melding Mind looked weary, having just returned from Emparia City. “Not many people know that a pair of Wizards treated Guarding Bear for mental illness after his brother died. They were very close, possibly as close as mates, eh? Such treatment might have interfered with the mate-empathy link between him and Bubbling Water.”
“We didn't rely solely on the mate-empathy link, though,” Purring Tiger said. “We also depended upon his paternal shame. His own son, killing his mate, how ignominious! The shame and grief combined didn't work either.” Sighing, Purring Tiger looked at the others. “What now, conspirators?”
The four members of the coalition looked amongst themselves. The glance was a collective shrug. With Bubbling Water dead, the retired General Guarding Bear had no more weaknesses.
“Infinite blast it, why didn't the Usurper die?”
Chapter 7
Only a father can set the requirements of a boy's manhood ritual. To prevent unnecessarily difficult or degrading requirements, the son chooses a mediator. His duties limited to stating objections only, a mediator cannot make suggestions to either father or son. If the father is unable to set the requirements, the patriarch decides. A father consults no one but a patriarch. Even then custom obligates the patriarch to ask questions only. In setting requirements, only the father decides and in this the father is alone.—Rituals Before the Fall, by Keeping Track.
* * *
Flying Arrow, Conqueror of the Northern Empire, seventh Emperor of the Arrow Dynasty, frowned at the speaker and fidgeted in his seat.
The Sorcerer Exploding Illusion was recounting what he had heard of the conversation between the Heir and the Matriarch Water, moments ago. Also present was the Sorcerer Apprentice Spying Eagle. The two Wizards sat on cushions twenty paces from the dais in the audience hall. As usual, the pimpled, pock-faced Exploding Illusion was slouching, and Spying Eagle was sitting correctly.
Very bad manners not to sit at attention, Flying Arrow thought. Worse manners to have halitosis so bad I smell it at twenty paces. The Sorcerer's rotten-toothed smile particularly disgusted the Emperor. Soothing Spirit, the Imperial Medacor, prognosticated an early death for Exploding Illusion, if Flying Arrow didn't tire of him first.
“What?” Flying Arrow asked, having heard the word “assassin.”
“The Lord Heir said, 'Why hasn't an assassin ever worked?' ”
“On whom?”
Exploding Illusion slid a glance at the apprentice beside him, then frowned. “They were discussing Scowling Tiger, Lord Emperor.”
“Assassinate Scowling Tiger?” Flying Arrow said, scoffing.
“Yes, Lord, that's the plan.” Exploding Illusion picked something out of his beard, chewing a crusty lip with a black-rimmed tooth.
“Who? Whose plan to have who assassinate him?”
With the same hand, the Sorcerer put something in his mouth—probably what he had picked out of his beard. “Flaming Arrow's plan, but no mention of who would do it, Lord Emperor.”
Flying Arrow frowned. At least the Heir wasn't planning to assassinate him! “What else did they say?”
“Not much of importance, Lord Emperor—the usual lovers' prattle.”
Flying Arrow nodded, looking toward the two men. “I've a request to make of you, Lord Sorcerer. Your ideas, Lord Wizard, are welcome as well. A boy has only one manhood ritual. I have only one son and Heir. The requirements are most difficult to set. They can be neither too harsh nor too easy. They must be worthy of an Heir, yet be easy enough to insure his survival. You both understand the dilemma, I'm sure.”
Spying Eagle bowed. “Forgive me, Lord Emperor. What you're asking violates the traditions surrounding the manhood ritual. We can't advise in a matter involving only father and son, and perhaps patriarch.”
“I know, Lord Eagle. I would, of course, ignore such advice. I've racked my brains for days and can think of nothing. I want you two to tell me what your rituals were like.”
“Mine, Lord Emperor, can be of no help,” Exploding Illusion said. “My father asked me to build a city of illusion and hold it for a day.”
“I, Lord Emperor,” Spying Eagle said, “had to construct a complex implant from a distance of twenty-five miles.”
“Neither exactly suited to my talentless son,” Flying Arrow muttered. “With all his talk about bandits lately, do you think I should turn him loose on them?”
Neither man replied.
“Oh. Forgive me,” the Emperor said, having forgotten that the customs of the ritual proscribed an answer. Waving as if to dispel a noxious wind, Flying Arrow stared at the banner above the double doors. The blue and white silk shimmered, the seven arrows standing tall. “I'd like you both to witness from there.” He pointed. Servants placed cushions to the right of the carpet that stretched from the base of the dais to the doors.
Spying Eagle bowed. “It's a great honor, Lord Emperor, to witness such a momentous occasion.”
“I asked the Lord Oak, but he declined,” Flying Arrow said.
The Sorcerer and Sorcerer Apprentice settled themselves on the cushions.
The ancient personal servant slipped through the doors and await
ed the Emperor's attention. Flying Arrow gestured.
In a voice hoarse with age, the servant announced, “The Lord Commanding General Aged Oak, the Lady Matriarch Rippling Water, and the Lord Heir Flaming Arrow.”
In that order, the three of them entered.
At a pace inside the door, Aged Oak stopped, sniffed the air, and took the measure of everyone in the room. He stepped forward, his brow wrinkled in consternation and wrinkles on top of those wrinkles. Stopping at twenty paces, he again took stock of the room and its occupants, then stomped his feet twice. Finally, he bowed, his sword still loose in his hands. “Forgive me, Lord Emperor, but I plead with you for the thousandth time to rip this room apart and let me rebuild it!” He glanced between the two obsidian statues at the forward corners of the dais. A frown wrinkled the wrinkles on his grizzled jowls. Aged Oak had become very wrinkled.
Beside him, Rippling Water and Flaming Arrow made their obeisance.
Flying Arrow nodded.
The other three sat back, the Heir taking the central cushion a pace ahead of the other two.
“We all know why we're here, Lords and Lady,” Flying Arrow said. “For the record, let me state that on this fifth day of the eight month of the year of the Infinite nine thousand three hundred eighteen, I, the Lord Emperor Flying Arrow, seventh Emperor of the Arrow Dynasty in the Eastern Empire, will set for my son, the Lord Heir Flaming Arrow, the requirements of his manhood ritual, thereby allowing him to prove to all his readiness to assume the title of man. For the record, does anyone here doubt his preparedness for the ritual?”
No one spoke. Unnoticed, a woman slipped into the room.
“According to the ritual, the son may choose a mediator. Have you chosen one, my son?”
“I have, Lord Father,” Flaming Arrow said, bowing. “Since the Lord General Guarding Bear isn't well, I've asked the Lord General Aged Oak.”
Flying Arrow nodded. “Do you, Lord General Oak, promise upon the Infinite to have the interests of my son and only my son at heart, in this matter only?”
The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) Page 7