by Vance Moore
"Excellent," Latulla said, looking on with a maternal pride as the machine came back. "I'll have to get more of these." Then she added pensively, "Though they kill awfully fast. There must be some way to stretch out the process." She turned to Haddad, and he thought he saw what could have been mistaken as a smile.
Iola looked puzzled as she looked at the dead dog. A guard to the side had a faint air of disgust as he regarded the dead animal, and Haddad saw him mouthing "waste" to another warrior beside him. Haddad snapped his attention back to Latulla as the artificer came toward the door.
"The ant performs up to my expectations," Latulla said as the machine came trotting back. Haddad saw her considering the rings on her hand and concentrating. The burst of pain that struck him was totally unexpected. He could feel the agony radiating from his left arm in waves. Was he having a heart attack? Haddad's muscles along the left side of his body contracted, and he fell to the floor in writhing agony. The artificer was silent until Haddad put his eyes back on her face.
"However," Latulla continued, "Iola informs me that it was necessary to prod you into completing your work. In the future, I expect you to finish quickly with no prompting."
Haddad couldn't even nod, the pain drew him so tight. Then it started to fade. Erissa watched it all with a bright, lively interest, while Iola kept her countenance completely neutral.
"Are you sure that we can't lower the cost of that armband and spell?" Latulla asked Erissa. "It is so useful. I would like to equip my entire household with it."
"Alas no, Latulla," the cradle mistress replied. "I myself band only a select few, and the extra control you gain just doesn't pay for the amount of time you have to take establishing the bond."
"A pity." Latulla turned back to Haddad. "Go up to the second floor and pack the red banded tools and what you used for the ant."
Haddad tried to get up but was slow. He could hardly gasp for air, and she was telling him to bounce up and continue the tasks she ordered?
"Do you need another nudge then?" Latulla taunted.
Haddad crawled out past the horses and slowly up the exterior staircase. He felt as if he had strained all the muscles in his chest, and he went through the open door and collapsed by his workbench. The bottle of alcohol was there, and Haddad took a drink before remembering just how strong the stuff was. It burned a track down his throat, and he gasped for air again.
How had she been able to do that? Haddad undid his shirt and lifted it free of his torso. A deep flush flowed across the left side of his body. It all spread from the band. He looked at his arm for quite a while. How could something have such control of his body and leave him unaware of his vulnerability? Haddad also wondered why he had never cut the band off. He decided many times that he wanted it gone but always came up with a rationale for retaining it. Could more than just his body be vulnerable? Could the device be affecting his mind as well?
Haddad crawled to the cutout that he had observed Erissa through. This immediate act of defiance so soon after Latulla's lesson convinced him that his mind was still his own. He lifted the block out very carefully.
"That's all for now, Iola," he heard Latulla say. Iola withdrew.
"That was a very impressive display last night," said Erissa. "I almost believed it was real rage fueling that outburst."
"After all the work I put into having the religious firebrands show up?" Latulla replied cynically. "It took quite a lot of time and mood drugs in the refreshments to provoke that riot. It was all I could do not to laugh at the fools."
Erissa did laugh. "Now we will arrive with news of last night chasing us and a personal reason to call for a decision on the witch kings and the invasion." Erissa's voice became more thoughtful. "The women of an entire continent to fill the cradles of Keld."
"I will have an additional reason to dangle before the council. Lord Druik has survived the round of experiments," Latulla announced triumphantly.
"I hope my assistant Greel was useful in your endeavor," Erissa said.
"His aid was important to the project," Latulla admitted. "I was surprised that you found a boy with such skill. It was a shame that he could not stay with me fulltime while working on the war leader."
"I am afraid that I have important tasks that only he could can perform to my satisfaction," Erissa explained.
"I am surprised that you haven't banded him, even if he is a Keldon," Latulla observed.
"My grip on him is sure enough," Erissa said. "I performed a few simple ceremonies to anchor my fist in his soul. Perhaps after the invasion I can introduce them to you."
Haddad would be just as glad if he never saw Greel again. He toyed very briefly with the idea of revealing some of what he knew to Latulla. That fantasy he shook off immediately. Even if she believed him, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't embrace it. He certainly thought her heart black enough for the deed.
"Well I must be going," Erissa announced. "If I am to speak to all of the cradle mistresses before your meeting with the council, I must be off at once. I will see you again at the Necropolis." Erissa stood, and Haddad could hear her cane tapping as she exited the building. Realizing that silence would only gain him pain if Latulla did not hear him working, he quickly replaced the cutout and began gathering tools.
Haddad managed to follow Latulla till mid-afternoon, carrying out orders, relaying messages, and not provoking another lesson in pain. It was something of a personal best. Soon it was time for Latulla and household to depart for the Necropolis. There were seven heavy wagons of just her personal baggage, and Haddad found it an interesting contrast to Latulla's voyage without a single personal servant when coming back to Keld.
At last the wagons and warriors were arrayed in a line, and Latulla inspected each wagon and soldier. The warriors stood ready with swords and spears at hand, but the commanders and common soldiers looked disturbed as Latulla stopped and minutely inspected weapons and armor.
"She acts a warlord," a Keldon soldier whispered to another as Haddad lagged behind Latulla. There was a general atmosphere of confusion, and Latulla seemed to sense it, for she jumped on top of a wagon to look across her servants and warriors.
"Today is the start of a new era," she called. "The witch kings sleep until Keld can call them forth. We will call them forth! The wagons hold the means to raise the kings, and I know it is time to awaken them. We are the first units of an army that will sweep the world under our feet as the witch kings lead us to victory." She raised her arms and shouted, "To the Necropolis!" She jumped down and ran to her colos steed. The convoy moved out of the gate with Latulla leading. Haddad wondered at the mood of the soldiers. There had been only a half-hearted cheer, and every gray face seemed lost in thought as Latulla's crusade began.
*****
Another party joined Latulla's on the road, and Haddad had his first pleasant surprise in quite some time. He overheard two guards talking.
"The warlord killed a sea beast that devoured everything," one warrior said. "Though crippled by his injuries and old wounds, he turned the tide of the battle."
"He was a great captain years ago against the giants.
Perhaps these new victories will propel Druik and his retainers to glory and command once again."
At the mention of Druik, Haddad hurried toward the new arrivals. The wagons did bear Lord Druik's sigils, though the lord traveled in an enclosed wagon surrounded by guards. Haddad wondered how much of the lord survived the trip to Keld, but his wondering turned to merriment when he spotted an old friend traveling well back in the party.
"Fumash!" he yelled.
The small slave quickly glanced to see who might be calling. A smile lit his face as Haddad approached. It was strange to see Fumash's teeth the same yellow as the other slaves rather than the rich black Haddad remembered. The former customs inspector had a long scar on one side of his face, hooking from the eye to his mouth. He looked altogether more dangerous than before.
"Haddad, I thought you long dea
d or lost here in the north," Fumash said. An overseer came hurrying toward the pair, and Haddad lifted his sleeve to show the bronze armlet.
"I see you have moved up in the world while I have moved down," Fumash commented, his smile vanishing as he saw Haddad's symbol of special status.
"What do you mean? Don't you still serve Lord Druik?" Haddad asked.
"I have not seen Druik since he was sealed up in stasis. When I was decanted in Keld, Latulla had taken him to some remote place to recuperate. I was left to the welcoming arms of Yacuta, Druik's female business manager, social secretary, and other wifely equivalents." Fumash shook his head and continued, "In Jamuraa my skills were valuable, but in Keld where women already form an educated class, I was considered only as valuable as the physical labor I could perform." Fumash looked stronger, but he was still a small man, and Haddad nodded his head in sympathy.
"Now perhaps my luck is turning because it is rumored Druik will be returning to Jamuraa, and a literate and organized slave will be valuable once again." Fumash looked at his friend. "What happened to you, Haddad?"
"I awakened only a few weeks ago in Latulla's house," Haddad said. "I had to build a steel ant for her," he confessed, his shame showing on his face. "I thought to use it somehow to escape, but she has already frozen its controls to respond to her. I think she wanted an attack dog at her beck and call."
"Wait a moment," Fumash said, interrupting Haddad's recollections. "You awakened only a few weeks ago?" He looked intently at the technical officer.
"At most. To be honest, I haven't kept very good track of time." Haddad was wry as he confessed his failing.
"Haddad, it has been months since the ship came in, not weeks," Fumash spoke with intensity. "The Keldons waken everyone when they have landfall. Druik was still in stasis, but he was a special case. Why would you be kept in stasis?"
Haddad tried to think of a reason that he would have been left in storage. He had assumed that waking off the ship was a normal experience. Now it was unusual, and the former League soldier didn't like the vulnerability that he felt.
"The first thing I remember is waking up in a bed, fully dressed, in a private room in Latulla's house. The housekeeper came in while I was up and put me straight to work building Latulla's ant." It did sound strange now that he related it aloud.
"From what I experienced and from what others have told me, waking up out of stasis is not something you forget. You gasp for air as the smoke fills your lungs. And as for dressing you in new clothes, a man in stasis is as solidly unbending as rock. None of this makes sense," Fumash said emphatically.
Haddad leaned a little closer and spoke in a whisper, not caring how suspicious it looked to whoever might be watching. He tapped the metal circling his arm.
"The band inflicts pain, my friend. When Latulla wishes, I writhe and wish for death." Haddad paused. "Perhaps I was kept in stasis until she could attach this leash." He struck the armband hard and then shook his hand to ease the pain in his fingers.
"It is possible," Fumash conceded. "The other possibility is that you were awake earlier but have somehow forgotten everything that occurred." Fumash glanced over his shoulder and stepped away. "My mistress approaches."
Yacuta rode forward on a colos to see who the strange slave was. When she saw the armband with Latulla's mark, she rode no closer but stared at Fumash and Haddad with lidded eyes. Realizing that an extended conversation would lead to an equally extended interrogation for Fumash, Haddad cut their talk short and walked quickly back to the wagon containing his gear.
How could he find out what happened? No matter what, one thing was sure. If he was awakened earlier than he thought, then Latulla and Iola had conspired to keep him ignorant.
*****
The convoy made good mileage that day. Latulla arranged accommodations by taking the wagons to the largest house in the area and expelling the owners and their chattel. The country was rocky, and each great house stood alone or far from its neighbors. Haddad was seeing a land without the cities and towns or even villages that he had expected.
Every day brought another brooding, massive peaked house into view as Latulla settled in for the night. She took the lord's rooms and sent servants scuttling out of the way. In the hinterlands, no one dared refuse her, so a series of houses were abandoned to her use. Soon they drew near the Necropolis, and the land and people began to change. Now the houses were closer together, and Haddad began to see signs of trade on the road. Latulla now picked the smaller houses, instead of the largest ones, to occupy. Warlords watched and drilled their soldiers as Latulla passed their dwellings. Latulla's reputation as a sudden guest made her few allies, but no one openly opposed the column's passage.
As the march continued, Haddad was able to speak to Fumash several more times. The two friends wandered far to the left of the column and paralleled the main party. Fumash seemed particularly despondent, and Haddad asked him to explain the march, hoping the role of instructor might improve his friend's mood.
"Latulla and her supporters believe that the death of the Witch King Kreig marked the end of the Second Cycle of Blood and the beginning of a new cycle," Fumash said, looking toward the column and then back to Haddad. "The first cycle was the mixing of ancient warrior races in the time of the Heroes. Tribes and nations congealed to form the early Keldons. Then the second cycle marked the forging of the witch kings. The final years of the cycle birthed the greatest of the witch kings through training and breeding. Kreig was the result of generations, and many Keldons believe that the enemies of the Second Cycle attacked Keld to stop Kreig and the emergence of a perfect people."
Haddad laughed. Perfect was not a word that he would apply to such bloodthirsty barbarians.
"Remember," Fumash said, "this is what Latulla and her faction professes. They believe that Kreig was the ultimate warrior, and when he fell, the Second Cycle ended. The Third Cycle is the creation of an army to conquer the world. Now every man is a warrior, and the females have the responsibility of running the nation. The cradle houses arose to allow the expansion of Keld through careful breeding with captured women of spirit and ability. It allowed the Keldon women to run the rest of the society while Keldons were pulled from the wombs of captured women. Now more and more warriors swell the Keldon ranks every year, and many believe Keld should march and conquer the globe. Every cycle to date has ended in a sea of blood, and Latulla and her allies are desperate for a war. They believe that an enemy will pull Keld down once more, and generations might pass before the nation will rise again. They want the war now while they are strong."
"But why this march to the Necropolis?" Haddad asked. "They are already fighting throughout the world. This call for battle seems superfluous."
"In recent months there have been outbreaks of disease among the cradle women and poor harvests in some of the holdings. Latulla has seized on this as a sign that the final battle is approaching, and she acts to take advantage. But the closer we get to the Necropolis, the fewer supporters she has. Yacuta right now rides to houses to find supporters for Latulla in Druik's name. She finds very few, and her temper grows more foul by the day." Even as Fumash spoke, Haddad could see Yacuta returning. His companion immediately turned and walked toward the column. Haddad followed behind, wondering at this sudden turn.
"It is best not to be noticed in bad times," Fumash said as he rejoined the outriders of Druik's party. "Remember Haddad, we are nearing the heart of the enemy, and nothing is more dangerous than drawing attention."
*****
It was growing dark under a cloudy sky. For the first time, Latulla's party had not received use of a house. Scouts had returned to the column with news that no housing would be made available to the artificer. Haddad believed that only the proximity of the Necropolis and the need not to alienate possible supporters prevented Latulla from falling upon a house and slaughtering the inhabitants for shelter. Warriors circled fires as slaves hunted for ground to sleep on. Blankets and extra clothing
were pulled from the wagons as many prepared for the night. Latulla's slaves were fairly close to a circle of young warriors. The League technician's eyes locked on one of the figures seated around the fire.
Haddad watched Greel. The familiar had grown more. He towered over many of the slaves and was as tall as many of the warriors. He was slender and his face was narrow. A predatory smile showed on his face as he looked from warrior to warrior. As Haddad passed, Greel winked at the League officer and laid his hand on the warrior next to him. The warrior started coughing, and Haddad could see Greel squeezing the warrior's arm in apparent concern. To Haddad, Greel was checking the quality of the meat. As the coughing increased, Greel showed a small expression of disgust, as if the meat was slightly off. Haddad crowded into the group of sleeping slaves rather than staying apart as his custom. He pulled his hidden knife from his wallet and tried to sleep. He could see Greel's smile behind his closed eyelids, and he didn't get any rest.
How long Haddad lay with his eyes open he could not say, but he was wide-awake when sudden motion caught the edge of his vision. Two men stood not ten yards away. A wave of ice seemed to sweep over him as he recognized a face.
Greel held his hand over his companion's mouth. The Keldon warrior was taller and heavier than the familiar but looked as helpless as a rabbit. The fighter tossed his head and tried to scream, but no sound issued. An absolute stillness covered the camp, and Haddad could barely grip his knife as he watched the Keldon's legs churning the ground. He could hear nothing, and the rest of the slaves slept on, oblivious. Haddad was frozen with more than fear. He could not even blink or avert his eyes. Like a dream, the attack continued, and no one could see it except Haddad. Greel pulled the warrior closer and began to sink down. The warrior's back arched, and the sudden stillness of his legs signaled the breaking of his back. In silence, the victim's arms flailed. The struggles grew more frenetic as Greel gripped the man's shoulders and squeezed. The warrior's mouth was open in scream, but still nothing could be heard. Then Greel crouched over the still body, and Haddad blinked. The sounds of the camp returned like a sudden clap of thunder. Haddad could hear the horses and colos at the edge of the camp. A few of the sleeping slaves around him groaned and turned over. Greel stood, shaking out his cloak and then hauling the cooling corpse up and draping a shattered arm over his shoulder. His eyes lifted from his victim and stared at Haddad. For a long moment Greel looked at the technician and then smiled. He backed away, the corpse dragging at his side.