The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

  The guard was standing with his back to the door. The frown that settled over my features was part irritation that there was a guard on my door and part confusion because he appeared to be calmly and patiently talking to himself. Beyond him, the room was full of women and children, the women clustered below the dais and the children running riot through the room and mingling with soldiers who were trying to rest. I stood in the doorway, taking it all in. Chaos. It wouldn't serve.

  "As I have said, the commander is busy." The sentry half turned to look over his shoulder as the door opened. "Sir?"

  I leaned to one side so that I could see past him. He wasn't that big but the woman standing beyond him, hands planted on her hips, was tiny and had been entirely hidden from my sight until that moment. Her gaze snapped like a whip to lock with mine and for an instant I froze in the open doorway as the force of her personality struck me an almost physical blow. She fairly crackled with controlled energy, quivering with suppressed anger so that she appeared to be in motion even though she hadn't moved more than her eyes, which were green and bright.

  "This cannot go on." She snapped the words at me like weapons, her voice harsh and loud. "I will not be forced to ignore my responsibilities and duties to my own people. Their problems are mine to resolve and I will have the freedom to address them. From here I can do nothing to alleviate their suffering or reassure their fears, nor can I assure myself of their well-being." I was hardly hearing what she was saying, nor did I much care about it. I kept eye contact but deliberately adjusted my awareness to take in the scene behind her, partly in self-defence.

  Despite its size, some forty odd paces long and twenty wide, the hall seemed crowded. Meran had used the hall as a barracks and his men had staked claim to the areas adjacent to the long walls of the hall, bedrolls spaced evenly and war gear set neatly to hand. Some few were gathered around the women, clustering like flies around a honey pot. The rest ate at the two long tables either side of the fire pit or sat on their bed rolls at their ease, and talked or watched the slew of children who besieged them. They looked weary but in the noise and activity that surrounded them there was little or no chance of sleep and the doors at the far end of the hall were thrown open to admit light. That door was manned by only one soldier. He allowed a young lad to swing his shortsword. I watched as he taught the boy how to grip the hilt correctly and explained how the balance of the blade brought the point to bear naturally on the enemy’s belly.

  I stepped forward and Anista gave ground but didn't stop talking; the guard stepped aside, all too willing to leave me to deal with her, I thought.

  "The spiritual needs of my people are also not met; our priest of Hesta is imprisoned and he must be released at once to minister to the needs of my people. Are you listening to me?"

  She was wearing wool of a fine weave that clung everywhere and more enhanced than concealed her figure, which was very fine. It didn't work with her auburn hair. "Black doesn't suit you."

  "You should have thought of that before you made a widow of me," she snapped and continued on a new subject without hesitation. "And the children must be allowed outside; how are they to grow strong cooped up in here all day?"

  I'd thought to take the wind out of her sails. It hadn't worked.

  "I also require to know our status. The women look to me for answers and I have none for them. It is well known that the men of the city take their enemies for slaves yet this has not been done. Is it your intent to torture us with uncertainty about our future?"

  A high-backed chair of deeply carved dark wood stood directly in front of me. I moved to stand behind it, hands resting on its back. We stood on a raised platform, just one step higher than the rest of the hall. Here is where Orlek would have seated himself, raised above his fellows to preside over his small court. Here he would have heard complaints and resolved disputes, feasted with his household, his warriors and other notables, entertained guests.

  It wasn't the way we did things. It was a symbol of authority, but it was a symbol of someone else's authority and it would have to go. For a moment I was tempted to make some dramatic gesture, like throwing it into the fire pit, but it was a nice piece of workmanship. It would serve some other purpose. In the office, I decided, and gave the order to the sentry.

  Anista at once stepped forward and placed one hand on the chair. "My son's throne stays here," she stated it like a command, which I ignored; pretty much as I had been ignoring everything she said. So did the sentry. He moved slowly but with purpose and her strength was far from being a match for his. She gave it up as though it had never been an issue, her gaze never leaving my face as she continued airing her concerns. "And there are too many people here. Darklake cannot support half this number. The granary will empty in weeks and come winter, people will starve."

  I noticed that Meran had come as far as the doorway and had to move aside as the sentry dragged the chair away. He was smiling, but not too obviously. His attitude reminded me forcibly of his origins. He was a barbarian, and I suspected he had been a chieftain among the Alendi. His attitude to women, and to ruling, was that of his culture. A chieftain rules by consent, he does not command but rather cajoles and persuades his people. He had had some days here to arrange things to suit himself and had approached the matter as an Alendi chieftain would. He had allowed Anista to continue to think and act as though she were a chieftain’s wife, responsible for the welfare of the people. She acted as though her power and influence were unchanged. It was a precedent already established and that was a problem that could be handled two ways; I could either make the change harsh and sudden or slow and subtle. The simplest answer for me would be to make slaves of the lot of them and get them out of here, but I had the same problem that Meran had faced; I really didn't have enough men to escort sixty odd men and some hundreds of women and children south.

  "... and the hall is too crowded; I am sharing a bed with two other women." This last seemed to offend her particularly, but from the size of her husband’s bed I would have thought she was used to it.

  “Do you ever stop talking?"

  "Do you ever start listening?"

  "I've heard enough." My attention had been snagged by movement at the far end of the hall. A prisoner was being brought forward by two soldiers and I let my gaze rest there as I answered her. "Every problem you have brought to my attention will be addressed once I have decided what might best be done about them. For now, the children may leave the hall but not the grounds." I wanted them out of here so that my men could sleep. "See that they are supervised," I glanced at Meran to be sure he knew I meant that last partly for him. He nodded and made off to see to it.

  I was sure she had also seen the prisoner but she had kept her attention focused on me. "And if they disobey, as children are supposed to?"

  I suppressed a smile. "See that they don't. I've a mind to let your people remain here but in what exact circumstance I have not yet decided. In any case, you and yours will be under probation. Understand that these are not your people and that your son will not be chieftain here. Your husband conspired with others to make war on the city without provocation and he has paid the price. Unfortunately, so have you and his people." I lifted a hand to stop her as she opened her mouth again. I wasn't done. "I have no idea if you were a party to his plans, or if you supported them, but I cannot doubt that you bear us ill will for your husband’s death, no matter that the risk was his idea and none of ours. I need to know if you are able to put that aside for the welfare of your children."

  The nearest group of women had moved a little closer and were listening avidly. I meant them to hear.

  Anista was also aware of them. "And our men?"

  "They made war on us. What would you have me do with them?"

  The prisoner was now close enough to hear this. I sized him up as his escort guided him to me. His arms were crooked around a stick and his wrists bound at his waist. He was a short but powerfully built man, shaven headed and his bare torso and
arms smothered in tattoos and old scars. A warrior with a warrior’s bearing and attitude. He walked proud, as though the soldiers either side of him were his retinue rather than his guards. His gaze rested on me but I was sure his real attention was for Anista. I could practically hear him weighing up the situation, judging what authority she had here.

  "Have them swear an oath of peace before Hesta and release them for my son to command."

  "How would such an oath be binding? And have I not said I will allow your son no authority here?"

  An expression of surprise flitted across her features for just an instant. "My son is not his father, and have I not told you there is a priest of Hesta here? He will summon a spirit to bind them to their oath."

  The priest was another problem. He couldn't stay here, but maybe I could use him for this one thing before I sent him into exile. Of course, I could send a small number of people south, or just sell them to Lendrin Treleth and let him deal with the problem, but a priest wouldn't last long in the city; he would try and convert people to his faith and be condemned to death in no time. I didn't want the man's blood on my hands. Anista already struck me as a woman who didn't listen and would not easily give up her ambitions for her son. Treleth might be the solution for her, as well.

  Meran was making his way back down the hall and the word of their freedom was spreading among the children; a distraction for their mothers, some of whom hushed them while others merely gave consent for them to leave the hall.

  "I will give it some thought." I indicated that the guards should bring the prisoner and headed back to my chambers.

  The throne had been placed against the wall beside the door. It would do there for now. I poured more wine and made to take a seat facing the door. Anista had been stopped at the door and was protesting that she had been included in the invitation, her voice again raised. "How can I represent my people if I am not part of your council?"

  I caught a brief glimpse of her tiny form as Meran deftly slipped by the sentry and closed the door behind him. He came to stand beside the two guards who bracketed the prisoner.

  "Cut him loose, for now. Is she likely to stay there for long?"

  "All day," Meran responded cheerfully. "She used to sit on the throne there, so I couldn't see her 'til I walked by."

  "My sister is a good woman but not one for listening to what she doesn't want to hear."

  I gave the prisoner my attention. The guards had taken a step back from him and stood to either side of the door, the bindings casually set on the throne to one side. They regarded him with blank expressions, their hands on the hilts of their swords. There were weapons on the walls and I myself was unarmed. They were ready to cut him down and I guess he knew it. He didn't look at all like Anista, nor did he seem to share any of her characteristics. He seemed relaxed as he stood in front me and massaged his wrists while working the kinks out of his shoulders and arms.

  "Help yourself," I gestured to the wine and spare cups.

  His eyes glittered and an honest smile appeared as he poured himself a generous cupful. "I am Kathan," he said, "and you are not what I expected, cityman."

  "Sumto," I gave him my name as bare of status and lineage as he had offered his. "What hold did Ishal Laharek have over Orlek?"

  "None that I know of. Orlek was a greedy, selfish, power-hungry bastard and little more than that from all I could tell. The Necromancer promised power and Orlek wanted it." He downed the wine in one and poured himself another after I gestured that he should. "He was an ally, not a subject, or so he saw it at any rate. Laharek saw him as a tool for a job, I'd guess. The lot of them passed through here now and again, giving gifts and promising more, taking news of everyone who used the pass and anything else we'd heard. Orlek knew Duprane and was afraid of her, and he knew she and Laharek were of a mind. He knew she was watching him and would act against him or rat on him to Laharek should he take a step out of line, so I guess I should add cowardly to my list. So, he was a greedy, selfish, power-hungry, cowardly bastard, and now he's a dead one, which is all to the good as far as I'm concerned."

  "Yet you followed him."

  "He was married to my sister, the father of my nephew and nieces. I could hardly protect them if I weren't here and no sense being here and remaining obscure, so I accepted a place in his warband, and excelled. He was a little afraid of me, I think, just enough not to harm Anista, not enough that he thought me a threat or enough to make him pretend to give a damn about her."

  "And the rest?"

  "Just men who don't think too much. A man has to live somewhere and when a new arse sits the throne it's much like the old one to most. I don't think anyone loved him but he was no burden to his people, mostly. He took ownership of everything but gave most of it back to the people, so they were content enough. Better him than the Necromancers, most would say. I've been north and I've seen how they treat their own."

  "Treated," I corrected him. "The Necromancers are broken as a power; it may be that some live but their lands are mine now," as soon as I got around to doing something about them. Another set of problems entirely, but simpler, I guessed.

  "You citymen are mustard on the battlefield, I'll give you that." He eyed us up, me and Meran and a glance over his shoulder at the guards. "Can't help wondering how you'd be without your magic to support you." The humour went out of him just after he finished speaking. I guessed he was remembering how it felt to face that magic. I can't say I envied him the experience.

  "I am inclined to clemency but I haven't decided anything yet, Kathan. Comments like that aren't helpful."

  "What would you have me do? Grovel and beg? You defeated us. I never took well to coming second in a fight. It didn't even cost you."

  I'd had the figures from Meran. He had been outnumbered more than ten to one and still prevailed handily. Many of his men had been wounded but were healed on the field and re-joined the fight, some more than once. Fifteen men were still on light duties due to serious wounds that would take time to heal fully, the worst of them a man who had lost an arm; he'd be a year re-growing it. He would be retired, but he had earned the right to vote, a raise in class, some land. I knew why my men were fighting; personal advancement. What I couldn't work out was why men like Kathan, who clearly had held his chieftain in no high regard, had fought for him.

  "Wouldn't you have been better served by deposing Orlek and replacing him with someone more worthy?"

  He shrugged. "Easier said than done, cityman. He had the backing of Duprane and her monsters. She was here often, bringing her Meldings and making her support for him clear to all. The threat of the Necromancers also hung over us. Laharek once made undead of a thief at Orlek's request; he regretted it and had Laharek take the thing with him when he left. There was never much crime here, but none after that, nor any opposition to Orlek's rule. Men who had argued with him before that, his own warriors and the elders, even me... we stopped arguing." He trailed off, looking thoughtfully into the past.

  "And?" I prompted him.

  "If I took his place I'd have his problems. Hell, who knows why one man follows another? Orlek wasn't so bad. He taxed trade through the pass, used a portion of the coin to buy in grain as the land here isn't fit for much. He was generous to his supporters and rarely arbitrary in his judgements. If you offer what you seem to be implying, will you be any better or any worse?"

  Fair question. "You are not what I expected either," I told him. "Under city law, murder and treason are punishable by death and confiscation of goods. Other crimes are punishable by confiscation of a portion of a man's goods and exile. Of confiscated goods, half are returned to the heir, if any. Darklake has a decision to make and no representatives to make it, as yet. Protectorate or client kingdom; as a protectorate you pay a tithe and I leave you alone and good luck, but I'll have no mercy on the place or people if any act against me. A protectorate has no military but mine, no right to bear arms. A protectorate tithes to me until I die, and I don't intend that to be soon
. But as my clients, the people would be under my protection and subject to no direct tax or tithe. When there is need, I would recruit men to fight for me, for which they would be paid. I receive my authority from the assembly of patrons and when that authority ends I will hand power back to the people in the form of elected magistrates and leave. The relationship of client to patron would remain but no longer be a political one. If your people can accept that, then all is well and good, but if you become my clients, then acting against my rule will be treason while I rule here and I have stated the punishment. Think it through before you decide, and talk to your people. We will talk again tomorrow and each day until I have your decision. As my clients, one of your numbers will be a magistrate here, with duties and authority to be decided at a later date."

  He was frowning, thinking frantically or so it seemed. "What if some decide one way and some the other? Some to become a protectorate, others for clientship? What then?"

  Another good question. "The lands I control are divided, my clients getting the best of it. The people of the protectorate are sold by loan what they need, hence the tithe to repay the loan. Right now, everything here is mine by right of conquest and anyone who wants any of it back will have to earn it." I shrugged. "It's remarkably simple, really. Most things are when you understand them."

  "But the simplest thing would be to sell us all as slaves and be done with us as you did with the captured Alendi, wouldn't it? Why have you chosen not to do that?"

  I hadn't been expecting him to ask. I should have. If someone offers you a gift, always look for the motive. You might accept the gift anyway but best to know what was in the mind of the giver. If he thought me weak and a fool, for letting my enemies run free to strike at me again, he wouldn't have asked. I'd like to claim cunning for that, to claim that I'd been waiting for the question or absence of it, but it wasn't true. The truth was that I hadn't given it any thought. I'd made the decision to offer them freedom for reasons which I didn't care to be thinking about while Kathan stood there before me, waiting for my answer.