The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3)

by Scott Michael Decker

  For now the Bandit had to bind these men and women irrevocably to him. “Before I tell you my plan, I want to clarify a few matters.

  “With all due respect to the Lord General Scowling Tiger, whom I revered and honored, I'd be doing myself and my Empire a disservice not to acknowledge and correct the mistakes, few though they be, of my mate's father.” He smiled at Purring Tiger. “Forgive me, my love, for my next words.”

  Seeking Sword looked around to include them all. “First, I am not Scowling Tiger. He was a cautious General. I'm neither cautious nor a general. He allowed habit to settle into his actions. He's dead because of it. I'm neither habitual nor dead. Scowling Tiger commanded this place. I don't. The Lady Purring Tiger commands the fortress. If I tell you something, it's because my mouth is speaking her words.

  “Second, because each of you has been of direct service to me in the past or will be of direct service to the Northern Empire in the future, I want to create a special position for valued advisors like you. Whether you're an active member of the Imperial Ruling Council or a lowly dung-shoveller in the bowels of the mountain, this new position is yours for life or for as long as you choose to occupy it.

  “Lord Raging River, you were the Lord Tiger's vassal for sixty years. Please explain the responsibilities and privileges.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Raging River said, a gust tousling his iron-gray hair, his small frame looking insignificant beside the larger, huskier frame of Seeking Sword. “I always wore my sword in the Lord Tiger's presence—always. His safety was my responsibility. Infinite blast me, I failed!” The old retainer dropped his gaze to the stone beneath them, looking as if he might fall on his knife right there. “Forgive me, Lord. Anyway, I tasted his food for poison when no servants were around to do so. I shined his leathers and washed his clothes and scrubbed his back. I'd have licked his balls if he'd have asked.

  “I always got the best of foods and the choicest of spoils, the best clothes, medical treatment, weapons, you name it, always the best. Most important, I had his friendship. All I want now is to join him, but I want to cut a throat first.” His gnarled hand strangled the haft of sword, as if the throat were in it.

  “I think you forgot to mention the immediate access at all times, day or night. Thank you, Lord River,” Seeking Sword said. “I don't need vassals, Lords and Ladies. Blind loyalty is for sheep and dogs, of which you are neither, Lord River. I want to call this position Duce, which in the ancient languages means 'to draw out.'

  “The rights of Duce are as follows: Immediate access, always armed, and a seat upon every council I hold. The responsibilities of a Duce are one:

  “To say what you think!”

  Again Seeking Sword watched them, seeing doubtful expressions mostly, others smiling ruefully. Too easily a man in his position might find himself surrounded by sycophants, lackeys and courtiers, whose only function was to tell him what he wanted to hear. The most valued advisor said what he or she thought. The Bandit wanted to insure their continued access to him. He heeded the ancient words of an unknown sage: “The man who'd listen to advice is wise enough not to need it. The fool who needs it isn't wise enough to listen.”

  “I think I'll like being Duce, Lord Sword,” Flashing Blade said.

  “I have no doubt you'll exercise the office with relish, Lord Blade,” he replied. “I want each of you to swear upon the severed head of … Never mind. Flaming Arrow's head is mine. It's worthless in itself to the reconstruction of the Northern Empire, eh? Swear, instead, upon the Empire beneath us that you'll uphold the responsibility of Duce.” Seeking Sword pointed at each person in turn. When they were done, he bowed to them. “It will be an honor and a privilege to serve you.”

  They all bowed back as if equals. He smiled, satisfied.

  “The first part of my plan to obtain the Imperial Sword involves disinheriting the Heir Flaming Arrow. The second part entails putting a person better disposed toward the Northern Empire in his place. The third part of my plan I can describe in one word: Face.

  “A simple definition for face is the recognition and influence accorded by one's peers. Lords and Ladies, we bandits have no face!

  “We or our ancestors came to this land because we had no other place to go. We're outlaws, curmudgeons, pariahs, refugees, parasites, expatriates, criminals. As such no one accords us any recognition, any influence, any respect, any honor. What we have so often neglected however is that one doesn't gain honor using force. One doesn't garner respect with threats. One doesn't gather influence with hasty words and makeshift deeds. One doesn't win recognition by stealing the honest sweat of another's brow.

  “Therefore,” the Bandit said, “the raids must stop.”

  A stunned silence greeted this statement.

  Seeking Sword looked from one to another. He saw no objections to his proposal, merely a vacuum. They didn't even look at one another. They looked as if they had never considered it. He wondered if they esteemed themselves enough to understand that the last third of the plan was the most important.

  “Eventually,” the Bandit said, “the raids must stop.”

  Looks of relief appeared on some faces.

  He wondered if he should insist on their exercising their responsibilities as Duces to speak their minds. Not letting his frown reach his face, he realized what had gone wrong: He had given none of them an out. “I propose we discuss the third part of the plan at another time, eh Lords and Ladies?” Then he continued speaking without pause.

  “To implement the second stage, we need active intervention. Whomever we select for the throne has to know that bandits put him there, eh? For this modest service he gives us the Sword we want. If he reneges on the bargain, we insure he doesn't have the military strength to fight off a siege of Emparia Castle, which I'll arrange in implementing the first stage. All this is conditional upon Flying Arrow's remaining alive for a few years. If he dies, so the Infinite has willed. We try something else. Any questions?”

  “What happens if Flying Arrow remains comatose?” the medacor asked.

  “For the first year, nothing. We proceed with my plan as if he'll recover his faculties. If after a year he's still comatose, we'll implement another. For my plan to work, Flying Arrow must be conscious enough and rational enough to disinherit the Heir Flaming Arrow through the psychic conduits between the Heir and Imperial Swords—as the Lord Emperor Scratching Jaguar disinherited his son. First, I'd like to hear your ideas on who our claimant to the throne should be. Suggestions?”

  “Who relative nearest be?” Leaping Elk asked.

  “Flaming Wolf, Flaming Arrow's uncle?” Slithering Snake asked.

  “No, we need Flying Arrow's nearest relative,” Raging River said.

  “The Colonel Rolling Bear, then,” Flashing Blade said. “They're cousins through the sisters Bubbling and Steaming Water, eh?”

  “He has the lineage, yes,” Fawning Elk said. “Does he have the qualities that'll appeal to both Emperor and citizen?”

  “Eh? Why do you ask that?” Easing Comfort asked.

  “Lord Sword,” Fawning Elk asked, “isn't the first part of your plan based on making the Heir look volatile, unpredictable, arbitrary?”

  “Yes, Lady Elk, how perceptive.”

  “So we need someone who's opposite all that, eh?”

  “Rolling Bear is consistent, predictable, safe and fair,” the Wizard-medacor said, nodding.

  “Sounds like our claimant, then,” Seeking Sword said. “Any other candidates for the position?” No one spoke as he looked among them. “We'll need an intermediary, but not right away.”

  Other than that tense moment of silence earlier, the Council meeting was going well. Seeking Sword felt a little troubled that Melding mind hadn't yet spoken. Melding Mind was currently more than a little troubled.

  “Now to the meat of my plan.

  “With the completion of his manhood ritual, the Heir Flaming Arrow has assumed a god-like status in the Eastern Empire. The Infinite has giv
en us the tools to dismantle this deity and reduce him to a human being. The Infinite gave me this face, this body, this mind for a purpose: To obtain the Northern Imperial Sword. To do that I must discredit the Heir Flaming Arrow. Any suggestions as to how we accomplish this, Lords and Ladies?”

  “The citizens of the Eastern Empire must see the dishonorable side of the Heir,” Purring Tiger said. “He has to act opprobriously in order for the citizens to become disaffected. We have to make him look detestable.”

  “An unwarranted execution in one town,” suggested Fawning Elk, “a violent argument in another, mayhem here, terror there.”

  Slithering Snake said, “Carefully planned, the incidents months apart, we can destroy his reputation to the point that even he doesn't want to associate with him, eh?”

  Leaping Elk spoke. “With choice between Heir distant and Heir despicable, citizens Heir distant prefer. Nothing like Succession Assured reassure, eh?”

  “Yes! Exactly!” Seeking Sword said. “The Emperor and citizens will become so disaffected with Flaming Arrow that no one will want him to be Heir! I want to hear some specific ways on how to do this. Anyone?”

  “Rearrange prefectures so no one knows who has what,” Fawning Elk said.

  “Assassinate Aged Oak!” Raging River said.

  “Order Nest razed!” Flashing Blade said.

  “Wolf Scratching General Lord fall on knife ask,” Leaping Elk said.

  “Promote a clown to Imperial Medacor,” Purring Tiger said.

  “Stop the raids!” Melding Mind said.

  “Excellent suggestions, Lords and Ladies, every one of them,” Seeking Sword said quickly, acting as if he hadn't heard the last one, wondering if he had found an ally in the grieving Wizard.

  “Earlier I said that the Lady Purring Tiger commands here. The reason is that for much of the time, I'll be away from the fortress, impugning the name of the Heir Flaming Arrow.”

  Chapter 28

  Five years after the assassination attempt, Flying Arrow showed almost no ill effects. At Flaming Arrow's insistence, Healing Hand and Spying Eagle eventually healed the seventh Emperor Arrow. The two Wizards pioneered a tissue regeneration process that earned them accolades from fellow Wizards across the continent. Fetal neurons stop dividing in the womb six months after conception. Neural damage to an adult is therefore permanent. However, the two Wizards located the chromosome that controls neural mitosis. Splicing the proper peptide into a single neuron, the Wizards generated four billion new neurons to replace the dead ones on the right side of Flying Arrow's cerebral cortex. Live neurons don't a functioning brain make, however. Connecting the neural tissue into assemblies that would allow the body and mind to use them was the daunting part of the Wizards' task. Spying Eagle finally suggested that they use the left cortex as a template for rewiring the right cortex. The technique worked so well that the Emperor was almost fully functional. Other than a limp, the only problem to manifest was that, on occasion, Flying Arrow would move his right hand, only to find his left engaged in exactly the same motion. A minor malfunction, considering the extent of the initial damage.—Wizard and Medacor, by the Matriarch Rippling Water.

  * * *

  The Heir Flaming Arrow, six others, one bear and five heads had gathered in his suite. Sunset was a half-hour away. Exactly five weeks had passed since he had gone before his father to have his manhood ritual requirements set. In a few minutes they would leave for the audience hall.

  Flaming Arrow had mounted each bandit head in the usual way—on a foot-wide platform, the faces washed, the hair combed, and the moment of death preserved on the features. A cloth covered each head.

  The mood in the room was jubilant, convivial, celebratory. Even Guarding Bear, despite his imbecility, grinned happily, the head of his ancient enemy cradled in his lap. The now dead feud had been born over forty-five years ago, the General having borne it all those years. Guarding Bear peeked under the cloth again. Flaming Arrow noted the motion, relieved that his mentor was showing some signs of initiative.

  “You all know the positions you'll take after we enter the audience hall?” the Heir asked for the hundredth time.

  They all answered yes. No one seemed to object to his asking again.

  He looked among them, knowing each to be a source of strength for him: Rippling Water, Healing Hand, Guarding Bear, Spying Eagle, Aged Oak, Probing Gaze. With their help, nothing seemed impossible.

  “Lord Eagle, I know you haven't finished your investigation yet,” Flaming Arrow said. “I was wondering if you'd reached any preliminary conclusions about these 'psychic storms.' ”

  The idle chatter died slowly, everyone turning their attention to the Sorcerer. Spying Eagle looked around. “Lord, I can only guess. A person or persons of unparalleled power projected his or her talent across incredible distances to a recipient who converted the energy into an offensive capability that swept away all opposition. The peripheral effects induced implant-like aberrations in all persons who came between recipient and projector. The likelihood that the person or persons used a talisman is very strong—almost certain.”

  “Who were these persons, Lord Sorcerer?” Flaming Arrow asked immediately. While grateful that Spying Eagle had used vague references, he knew there need be few secrets in this gathering.

  “As best I can determine, Lord Heir, yourself and the Bandit.”

  Flaming Arrow nodded, having concluded the same. “During the first I had a lapse of consciousness—a 'dissociation,' as the psychologists call it. During the second I dreamt. Assuming the Bandit's experience was similar, what do you conclude, Lord Eagle?”

  The Sorcerer looked across the room at the Medacor Apprentice.

  “The Lord Eagle and I can only speculate, Lord Heir,” Healing Hand said. “During the second storm your unconscious mind reached over fifty miles to take control of the Bandit's body and mind to save him from certain death. Remember, Lord, you were sleeping in an electrically shielded room, eh? During the first, if reports are accurate, the opposite occurred, except that the distance was double.”

  “The shields themselves? Did you test them?” the Heir asked.

  “No damage to them, Lord,” Spying Eagle said.

  “They didn't even flicker, by the Infinite!” Probing Gaze scratched at the bandage edge around his stump. Already, Soothing Spirit had grown two inches of new leg onto the stump.

  “Which has one of two meanings, Lord.” Healing Hand displayed two long fingers attached to a wide, wide palm. “Your mind either found a psychic frequency we don't know exists, or reprogrammed the shield to open a small hole, through which you sent. Neither explanation seems possible. I can't think of another. There are devices that can do just that. The Lord Emperor Jaguar has one. But I've never seen a person do it.”

  “So reprogramming a shield is possible then, eh?” Flaming Arrow said. “Find out what's required, Lord Wizards. That doesn't explain, however, how I knew in the first place that the Bandit was in danger.”

  “Or why you'd want to rescue him,” Rippling Water said.

  The Heir laughed. “If I had chosen to do anything, my choice would've been to obliterate him, eh?”

  “That's certain, Lord,” Probing Gaze said, grinning.

  Flaming Arrow knew they shared a passion for killing bandits. He turned to the Wizards. “Anyway, these storms and their perpetration will be the second most difficult problem I'll ask you two to solve. The most difficult you'll face is restoring the Lord Emperor.”

  “Half his brain is dead!” the Wizard-Medacor said.

  “We can't rewire five billion neurons!” the Sorcerer said.

  “As I said, it'll be difficult,” Flaming Arrow replied. “I'm confident you'll each make a place in history. You'll innovate until you succeed. You can do it. I don't want to hear you say otherwise.”

  “Yes, Lord,” both Wizards said, exchanging an amused glance.

  “Time to go,” Flaming Arrow said.

  The bear seconded
the motion with a deafening roar, and passed it with its plentiful wind.

  Quickly, the Heir led the way into the corridor. Everyone followed, trying to escape the nearly asphyxiating flatulence. Slow to leave, being on crutches, Probing Gaze coughed and cursed, only Guarding Bear and the animal behind him.

  In the corridor and safely beyond from the stench, Healing Hand said loud enough for all to hear, “I guess, Lord Bear, you've finally come up against something that can break more wind than you.”

  The purity and spontaneity of Guarding Bear's laughter was marred only by its abruptly stopping. Flaming Arrow would have given away his sword to hear it continue.

  Those who had come to watch the group did not much impede their progress through stairwell and corridor. On every face was adoration and pride. Taking up the rear was the bear, on all fours, its claws scraping the stone flooring. Protest followed its every passing of wind. As the group neared the audience hall, they narrowed into single file, the spectators thickening.

  The double doors of the audience hall were already open. The seven of them entered and spread out as planned, the bear taking its position directly behind the old, weathered General. Probing Gaze, having helped the boy and having only a stump for a leg, had taken a place at a forward corner of the dais, in front of an obsidian statue. His place was a special one of honor, the ritual requiring that he witness the presentation as he had the fulfillment.

  Spectators crowded the sides of the hall. The nobility of the Eastern Empire had come to see the Heir's presentation of his five required bandit heads. The citizens had told and retold the stories of their taking so many times and exaggerated them so much at each telling that they had taken on the proportions of legend and bore little resemblance to the truth. The Heir felt secretly amused.

  In a line, a head in front of each, the five presenters bowed in unison to the Emperor. Flaming Arrow, a pace ahead of them, bowed as well.

  His left side looking lifeless, Flying Arrow nodded to acknowledge their obeisances, and would have tumbled from the dais had a servant not caught and righted him.