by John Marco
‘No?’ said Tharn. ‘How many is that, Shohar? I have looked at the numbers myself. It is a goodly amount, to be sure. But it is not enough to stop Nar. Even if Liss does keep them off our shores, they are already pouring through the Run. We need to stop them there. The lions could do that well.’
Shohar thought for a moment, then asked, ‘Is that your plan? To stop the Narens at the Run?’
‘There is no other way. If we are ever to stop them we must take control of the Run. But it cannot be done quickly. The Narens already have the region secured. And it cannot be done with jiiktars and horses. We need to surprise them in the mountains. For that we need the lions.’
‘They are coming for my valley,’ said Voris impatiently. ‘My valley. I will not depend on the nomads to defend us.’
‘You will defend yourself,’ said Tharn. He looked around the gathering. ‘All of you will. My only plan for the nomads is to use them against the Narens in the Run. Once we close off the passage Nar will be unable to send more troops in. Then we will deal with those left on our soil.’
‘First the nomads must be convinced to help,’ said Shohar. ‘That will not be easy.’
‘Perhaps they do not know what happened to Ackle-Nye,’ suggested Tharn.
‘Or perhaps they do not care,’ said Shohar.
Tharn’s face soured. ‘When they see that their own lives are threatened, they will join us.’
‘Until then we must make plans,’ said Voris anxiously. ‘We cannot wait for them.’
‘Nor will we,’ said Tharn. ‘As I have said, I have plans for each of you. Lucyler?’
‘Rayamo, Tharn?’ said Lucyler.
‘In Naren,’ Tharn ordered. ‘I want Richius to understand us.’
Richius straightened at the mention of his name. The sudden sound of his own language was oddly strange.
‘Lucyler, you know Kronin well. You know Tatterak, too. You must help Kronin. Nar is too close. We must defend ourselves, keep them from Falindar. I want you to do this.’
‘Willingly,’ answered Lucyler. There was a glint in his eyes, the kind of foolish zealousness Richius had seen far too often.
‘Gather the warriors still in the citadel. Take them and go where you are needed. Fight with Kronin or without him, I care not which.’
‘I understand,’ said Lucyler. ‘But what of Richius? Is he to come with me?’
‘No. I need other things from him.’
Richius could take no more. He cleared his throat and stood up alongside his companion. ‘Tharn,’ he began haltingly. ‘You know why I’m here. I’ve agreed to help you with information. If you have other plans for me I wish you’d tell me now.’
‘Wait,’ warned Tharn. ‘It would be better.’
‘No. Tell me now. I’ll probably refuse anyway, and you will have your answer all the quicker.’
‘Very well,’ said Tharn. He turned to the gathered warlords, telling them all to eat and drink while he attended to Richius. The warlords wasted no time in reaching for the wine decanters. Only Voris refrained. Tharn asked him to rise, and the two made their way alongside the table to Richius and Lucyler. Richius bristled as the warlord of the Dring Valley approached, quietly wondering what Tharn had in mind for him.
‘We will speak in Naren,’ Tharn said. ‘Lucyler, explain what I say to Voris, please.’
‘I will tell him,’ answered Lucyler warily. Tharn stared hard at Richius.
‘Voris knows nothing of what I am to tell you, King Richius. Do not be surprised by anything he does now.’
Voris frowned as the translation became clear. He prodded Tharn to continue.
‘He doesn’t looked pleased and neither am I,’ said Richius. The sense of impending dread was agonizing. ‘What is it you have planned, Tharn? If it’s to work with this maniac. . .’
Tharn lifted a hand. ‘Lucyler . . .’
‘I will not repeat that,’ Lucyler assured him.
Tharn smiled. ‘Yes. Be careful what you tell Voris.’
‘My God!’ cried Richius. ‘That is what you want, isn’t it? You expect me to work with Voris!’
Voris became incensed. He glared at Tharn, angrily demanding some explanation.
‘Tell us everything, Tharn,’ implored Lucyler. ‘Please.’
‘King Richius, you heard what I said about the Empire’s troops, yes? They spread through the countryside. They will strike Dring soon. If they take it, they can divide us. You know this.’
Richius nodded. He knew very well the strategic value of taking the Dring Valley. He had spent nearly two years of his life trying to do the very same thing. With no luck.
‘Dring is where you are needed. I meant what I said to the others. You may not think so, but your surviving Dring was like a miracle. I know because Voris has told me so. You are clever. This is needed in Dring. With you and Voris both there –’
‘Voris is enough for anyone,’ said Richius. ‘Trust me. He can handle his valley without my advice.’
‘It will be more than advice,’ said Tharn. ‘I want you to command there.’
‘Kalak?’ thundered Voris. His face purpled and a stream of protests rolled off his tongue. Tharn sighed heavily, letting the warlord exhaust himself before replying. Voris was wrathful and loud, Tharn as peaceful as a lake. Richius threw up his hands in disgust.
‘This is ridiculous. Lucyler, tell him to forget it. Maybe he’ll listen to you. He doesn’t seem to hear a damn thing I tell him.’
‘Richius, calm down,’ said Lucyler easily.
‘Stop telling me to calm down!’ Richius flared. He turned back to Tharn. ‘Tharn, I’m going back to the citadel. Tell this madman he can stop arguing with you, because I agree with him. He doesn’t want my help and I don’t want to help him. Fine.’ Richius started away but Tharn grabbed hold of his arm.
‘Stay!’ hissed the cunning-man. Another angry order quieted Voris. Tharn released Richius’ arm and spat at his feet. ‘Both of you are sickening!’ he raged. His voice resonated with remarkable vigor. ‘See these others here? They watch you and they think you are fools. You are like children. But I care not of your pride, either of you! You must do this thing. Must!’
As Lucyler translated the Drol’s tirade, Voris shrank back with shame. He bowed his head to the ground, avoiding Tharn’s eyes. But Richius roiled at the insults. He pushed past Voris and stuck his finger into Tharn’s face, punctuating each word with it as he snarled.
‘You have used me for the last time, Tharn. I agreed to help you and this is what I get for it? You know how I feel about Voris. How could I not hate him?’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Everyone thinks you’re so wise, but this is one of the stupidest plans I’ve ever heard.’
Tharn’s eyes smoldered. ‘Come with me,’ he rumbled, then turned his back on the astonished trio and slowly shuffled away from the war council. All the warlords watched him depart but said nothing, and the silence made Richius at once self-conscious. He glanced at Lucyler.
‘Just me?’ he asked.
‘I think so,’ answered his friend. Voris was already walking away from them, returning to his place at the council table.
Richius stiffened. ‘If he thinks he’s going to change my mind . . .’
‘Go with him and find out,’ urged Lucyler. ‘I will stay here with the others.’
‘But your hand . . .’
Lucyler shooed him away. ‘Forget about it. Go.’
Reluctantly Richius agreed, going off along the dark slopes after Tharn. The cunning-man had made very little progress, and Richius overtook him easily. Tharn was breathing hard, as much from ire as exertion, and was mumbling to himself distractedly as Richius came up behind him.
‘What do you want from me, Tharn?’ Richius asked acidly. ‘I’ve already given you my answer. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.’
‘Silence for once,’ Tharn snapped. ‘Follow me.’
‘Why? Where are we going?’
‘Where we can talk without other ears. Now come.�
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Richius followed, letting Tharn guide him wordlessly back to the citadel and through the place’s tall doors. The trip was arduously long, made more unbearable by Tharn’s stony silence. Each time the cunning-man faltered, Richius reached out for him, and each time Tharn pulled angrily away, not even opening his mouth for an insult. They were alone as they entered the citadel, but Tharn kept going, past the indoor court and past the dingy rooms where crippled men talked and busy women settled children down for sleep. Finally, when they reached the main stairs, Richius stopped.
‘Tell me where we’re going,’ he said as politely as he could manage.
Tharn did not turn around but instead put his foot on the first riser of the stairs. ‘Up.’
‘You can’t get up those stairs without help. Don’t even try.’
A second later Tharn’s foot slid off the riser. He tumbled backward into Richius’ arms.
‘I told you, you fool,’ said Richius. Tharn struggled to right himself and Richius let him go. ‘Now, if you want to go upstairs, you’ll either let me help you or we’ll talk down here. It’s your choice.’
‘Upstairs,’ Tharn conceded breathlessly. ‘Please.’
‘All right,’ said Richius, taking the man’s arm and securing it around his shoulders. He put his own arm around Tharn’s waist, fighting a wrench of nausea at the sensation of loose skin beneath the saffron robes. Tharn gasped with pain, and Richius quickly eased his embrace. ‘Better?’
Tharn nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ said Richius, guiding Tharn up the stairs. ‘Careful now. We’ll go slowly.’
‘Yes, slowly.’
Inch by agonizing inch they made their way up the spiral staircase, bypassing any who came down the narrow passage. Some offered help, others politely ignored them, and Tharn greeted each of them with an impatient wave. Richius gritted his teeth against the sickening stench of rotting skin. He had never been so near Tharn before, and wondered how the cunning-man himself endured the odor. It struck him suddenly that Tharn was barely five years his senior, and yet he was helping him up the stairs as if he were ancient.
‘Much further?’ asked Richius. His back already ached from the awkward gait.
‘To Dyana’s chamber,’ Tharn replied.
‘Dyana? What are we seeing her for?’
‘Take me to her.’
Thankfully Dyana’s chamber was not as high up as the others in the citadel. When they reached the hallway leading to it Tharn spilled out of Richius’ arms. He started off down the hall without a word, at once regaining his recent iciness.
‘You’re welcome,’ muttered Richius loudly. Tharn ignored him.
‘Come,’ he ordered.
The hallway was dim and quiet. Dyana’s chamber was near the end of the corridor. Tharn traversed the distance with remarkable speed and rapped insistently on the door. A long pause went by with no answer. Richius guessed that Dyana had already retired for the night. But before Tharn could knock again the door pulled cautiously open and Dyana peered out. Bewildered, she looked at Tharn and then to Richius, then finally back to Tharn.
‘Husband?’
Tharn pushed the door open with his cane. Dyana stumbled backward. She was dressed in a simple gown that told Richius she was indeed readying herself for sleep. She blinked at her husband in alarm.
‘What is it?’ she asked. Tharn did not step inside the chamber.
‘King Richius is going to the Dring Valley,’ he said tersely. ‘He will be leaving in two days. He will need an interpreter. You will go with him.’
Dyana stared at him as if she hadn’t heard. ‘Husband?’
‘What?’ erupted Richius.
‘Teach him our language so he can learn,’ Tharn continued. ‘It is important, Dyana. Do your very best.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Dyana stammered. ‘Why must we go to the Dring Valley?’
‘Richius is needed there,’ said Tharn. ‘And you are the only one who can teach him.’
‘But Shani –’
‘Take the infant with you. Voris will look after you both.’
Dyana’s look was baleful. ‘Husband –’
‘Do not argue with me!’ snapped Tharn. ‘Now sleep. You will need to be rested.’ He hooked his hand around the door handle and pulled it closed, shutting Dyana away. Richius could hear her astonished curse behind the door.
‘Are you insane?’ he asked. ‘You want her to go with me? Why?’
‘You need an interpreter,’ said Tharn. He went to another door and knocked. This time it opened quickly. The nurse Richius had seen in Dyana’s chambers days ago appeared. Tharn tossed off some quick demands and she stepped out into the hall, wrapping her arms around him just as Richius had. Slowly they made their way back to the stairway.
‘Don’t ignore me,’ said Richius, keeping pace with them. ‘I want to know what this is all about. Why should she go with me?’
Tharn would not look at him. ‘You do not speak the language and Lucyler is needed elsewhere.’
‘Rubbish. What’s the real reason?’
‘That is it.’
Richius grabbed hold of the nurse’s arm and yanked her away. She shrieked and shrank backward, sending Tharn to his knees. The cunning-man cursed and glared up at Richius.
‘Leave me be!’ he hissed, fumbling to rise. Richius did not offer a hand.
‘Tell me the truth.’
‘I have told the truth! You are needed in Dring. We cannot lose the valley.’
‘Not that,’ Richius barked. He held back the nurse with a warning hand. ‘Tell me the truth about Dyana. Why must she go with me?’
‘Because she isn’t safe here!’
Richius faltered back a step, stunned. He watched Tharn struggle to his feet. The cunning-man’s expression was terrible.
‘Tharn,’ began Richius weakly. ‘I don’t understand. Explain yourself.’
Tharn rubbed at his forehead pensively. ‘She is not safe here,’ he repeated through gritted teeth. ‘I must send her to Dring with you. I have no choice.’
‘You’re worried about her? But she’d be safer here, surely.’
Tharn pulled himself up with his walking stick. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There are many here in Falindar who know about you and Dyana.’ He looked at Richius curiously. ‘Does that surprise you? Yes, I can see that it does. I am not so blind myself, you know. She has not been the same since you arrived. Little things distract her.’ Tharn’s face was sour. ‘It seems carrying your child has affected her.’
Embarrassed, Richius could only shrug. ‘But why isn’t she safe here? You’re her husband now.’
‘There are many who think she is tainted from being with you. The child, too. They would kill her if they could.’
‘They wouldn’t dare.’
‘They would,’ Tharn insisted. ‘Not all Drol are as I am. They see how she is, like a Naren woman. And they know the child is yours.’
‘But no one would harm her with you around,’ said Richius. ‘You can protect her better than I can.’
‘I will not be here to protect her much longer. I must go to Chandakkar. I must make Karlaz listen. If I do not return Dyana and the baby will be in danger. So they must go with you to Dring. She will be safe there. Voris will protect her. He is sworn to me.’
‘These others are sworn to you, too,’ countered Richius. ‘Aren’t they?’
‘Not like Voris. He is a friend of many years. He is a brother to me. He will protect Dyana.’ Tharn’s face darkened. ‘And you will, too, I know. I have seen how you glow when you look at her. I am not as blind as you think.’
‘Tharn . . .’
‘Do not deny it. I do not fault you. And I do not blame Dyana, either. She has a monster for a husband. Of course she would find you compelling.’
Richius couldn’t answer, so stunned was he by the man’s honesty. More, he was intrigued. Had Dyana really changed since he’d come here? Was she enamored with him, too? The notion made his heart race.
‘Tharn, I can’t go to Dring. You don’t know how Voris and I feel about each other.’
Tharn laughed. ‘Oh, yes, I do.’
‘Then you know you ask the impossible. Voris will never work with me.’
‘He will because I have ordered it,’ said Tharn. ‘He will do as I say. Believe me, he is better than you think of him. And he needs you. The Dring Valley is too important. If it is lost, then the war is lost. You must help us, Richius, you must. We all must stand together.’
‘Easy,’ urged Richius, taking the man’s arm. He waved the nurse over. Hesitantly she took hold of Tharn. ‘Go back to the council. I’ll think on what you’ve said.’
‘No. I want your answer first. Dyana thinks you are a man of strength. Will you show us some strength now? Go to Dring. Defend it. Have your revenge on your emperor that way.’
‘It won’t work . . .’
‘It will,’ Tharn said. ‘But you must put aside your feelings, as I have. Do you think I wish to send Dyana with you? I do not. But you have need of her, and I cannot leave her here. I do not trust you, but I have no choice. So you see? Even I am tangled in my plans. But know this. I am a Drol. I will not let you disgrace me. And Voris will be watching you.’
‘That sounds like a threat,’ remarked Richius sharply. ‘You shouldn’t threaten someone from whom you need a favor.’
‘You will defend Dring because it is right to do, not because I ask it. As for Dyana, I do not believe she would risk being with you. She knows I love her. Call it an obsession if you wish, but I cannot stop it. I have never been able to, and I have tried. It is like that for you, too, is it not?’
Richius nodded sadly. ‘Yes.’
Tharn smiled at him. ‘I do not hate you, Richius Vantran. I think my wife is right about you. But do not rival me for Dyana. Where she is concerned, I cannot stop myself.’
It was a grim warning, and Richius accepted it grudgingly. He had already seen the lengths the cunning-man would go to for possession of Dyana, and he had no wish to repeat such violence. Especially not with Shani involved.
‘Go back to the others, Tharn,’ he said. ‘Let me at least have the night to think.’
Tharn inclined his head slightly, then let the nurse guide him away down the winding staircase.