“I think you’d better look to your tail feathers, Althalus,” Leitha suggested. “I’d say that the boy’s gaining on you.”
———
A warm wind swept across the mountains of Arum the night after Althalus and his friends returned to Chief Albron’s castle, and it cut the snow out of the passes the way a hot knife cuts butter. The melting snow sent all the streams out of their banks, and after the floods had subsided, the rest of the Clan Chiefs began to arrive.
Koleika, the heir apparent to the gross Chief Neigwal, was the first to reach Chief Albron’s castle. Koleika was lean, with jet black hair and a jutting lower jaw. He was a somber man dressed in leather, and he wore snug leather trousers rather than the traditional kilt of most Arums. He spoke very seldom, and when he did, he had the peculiar habit of never permitting his upper lip to move. Upon his arrival, he spoke briefly with Albron and then largely kept to himself.
A few days later, Smeugor and Tauri, the Chiefs of the two southern clans, rode in. Smeugor was stout, with a fiery red face that was a sea of angry red pimples interspersed with deep scars. He affected an air of forced gaiety, but his narrow eyes were cold and as hard as agates. Tauri had sparse yellow hair and no trace of a beard. He evidently thought of himself as a ladies’ man. He wore elegant lowlander garb that wasn’t too clean, and he eyed every female in Albron’s hall with open lasciviousness. Even as Koleika had, Smeugor and Tauri largely kept to themselves after their arrival.
“I’m catching some hints of ancient hostilities in the air, Albron,” Althalus told their host somewhat later. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”
“It’s a leftover from the old clan wars, Althalus,” Albron conceded. “No Clan Chief really trusts any of the others. This conclave you’ve asked me to arrange is a break with tradition, and the others are quite suspicious about the whole thing. The history of Arum is a melancholy repetition of deceptions, betrayals, and open murders. We’re always on our guard when we enter the territory of another clan. If I hadn’t made an issue of your gold, most of the others would probably have begged off. Things should liven up when Twengor arrives.”
Chief Twengor—big, burly, and vastly bearded—was roaring drunk when he reached Albron’s castle, and his nephew, Chief Laiwon, rode closely beside him to steady his swaying uncle and keep him from falling off his horse. Twengor bawled ancient drinking songs as he rode, sending off-key echoes bouncing down the gorge. Laiwon was an abrupt young man who definitely stood in his more famous uncle’s shadow.
Chief Gweti was the last to arrive, and Althalus noticed immediately that the other Chiefs went out of their way to avoid him. Gweti had an overly large head but a very tiny face that barely covered a quarter of it. This gave him a sort of pinched-in look. His bulging eyes shifted continually, and he had a nervous tic in one cheek. When he spoke, his voice sounded very much like the bleating of a sheep.
“I thought they’d all be more like Albron,” Andine said to her friends with a slightly worried frown, “but these others are howling barbarians, aren’t they?”
“Are we having some doubts about our oratorical ability, dear?” Leitha asked her friend.
“No, not really,” Andine replied. “I think I’ll have to change my approach, that’s all. Albron’s relatively civilized, but I think any degree of subtlety might be a bit beyond these others. I may have to beat them over the head with a club to get their attention.”
“I just can’t wait to hear your speech, Andine.”
“To be perfectly honest about it, Leitha, neither can I,” Andine replied, still looking worried.
The kilted Clan Chiefs of Arum and their sizable retinues gathered in Albron’s hall for breakfast on the morning after Gweti’s arrival, and the noise level was quite a bit higher than usual. Albron liked a certain amount of decorum at mealtimes, but some of the other Clan Chiefs were a bit on the rowdy side. After breakfast, Albron suggested that the chiefs and their immediate advisors should gather in some quieter place to discuss the reason he had issued the call for a conclave.
The conference room to which he led them was near the back of his castle, far away from the noisy near riot in the dining hall. The room was secure, well guarded, and not in one of the towers. An old Arum folktale had concerned a mass assassination that had once taken place in a tower, so by tradition, all meetings of the various Chiefs took place on the ground floor. There was a table in the center of the room with large chairs for the Chiefs and smaller chairs behind them for assorted advisors. The twenty kegs Althalus and Eliar had brought from the House were stacked unobtrusively in one corner, and there were chairs for Althalus and his friends at the lower end of the table where they could face the assembled Chiefs.
“What’s this all about, Albron?” Twengor demanded in his bellowing voice. “Nobody’s called a general conclave for over a century.”
“I’ve been approached by the ruler of one of the city-states of Treborea,” Albron replied. “It seems, gentlemen, that there’s an employment opportunity in the wind.”
“And you’re sharing it with the rest of us?” Gweti bleated. “Are you out of your mind?”
“The ruler in question wants to hire more soldiers than I can provide, Gweti,” Albron replied. “When you get right down to it, all of us put together don’t have enough men. There’s work enough—and gold enough—for every able-bodied man in the whole of Arum.”
“I just love to hear somebody talk about gold,” Gweti said, with a dreamy look coming over his pinched face.
“I take it that these outlanders are the emissaries of the ruler you spoke of?” Koleika said, looking at Althalus.
“I was just getting to that,” Albron replied. “Lowlanders have some strange customs. Improper as it might seem to us, it’s not uncommon down there for a woman to occupy a throne.”
“That’s sick!” Twengor boomed. “I’ll listen to this, but you just went down a notch or two in my estimation, Albron.” He turned his bloodshot eyes to the stack of kegs in the corner. “Why don’t we broach one of those?” he suggested. “This all might go more smoothly if we’ve got some ale to wash it down with.”
“They aren’t ale kegs, Twengor,” Albron replied with a faint smile, “but what’s inside might make it easier to swallow the fact that the person who wants to hire us is a woman.”
“I’ll be leaving now,” the taciturn Koleika announced, rising to his feet.
“A very rich woman, Koleika,” Albron added. “Shouldn’t you hear her offer before you rush off?”
“Turning down a lot of gold won’t make you very popular among your clansmen, Koleika,” Chief Laiwon pointed out. “Open rebellions sometimes break out when a chief makes that sort of blunder.”
Koleika scratched at his outthrusting jaw. “All right,” he said, sitting back down. “I’ll listen, but I’m not making any promises.”
“I wouldn’t have any trouble working for a woman,” Chief Gweti bleated, “as long as she’s rich enough. I’d work for a rich goat, if he offered me enough gold.”
“Goat?” Andine’s voice was indignant.
Leitha touched the small girl’s arm. “Later,” she murmured.
“I think this brings us directly to the core of the matter,” Albron continued smoothly. “The young lady who appears to be right on the verge of clawing out Chief Gweti’s eyes is Arya Andine of Osthos, and she’d like to talk to us about gold.”
“I’m going to steal some of your thunder here, Althalus,” Andine murmured. “You may have to revise your speech just a bit.” Then she rose to her feet, her huge dark eyes smoldering.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Tauri observed to Smeugor, “and she’s got a lot more to offer than just gold.”
“I was noticing that myself,” the pimple-faced Smeugor leered.
“Do I look goatish enough to suit you, Chief Gweti?” Andine asked.
“Poor choice of words, perhaps,” Gweti bleated. “Can you find it in your hea
rt to forgive me?”
“Not immediately, Chief Gweti,” Andine replied. “I think I’ll send you to bed without any supper tonight, and we can talk about it again tomorrow.” She paused then, fixing each Chief with her luminous eyes. “Let’s not waste any time here, gentlemen. I want to show you something, and then we’ll talk about it.” She turned slightly. “Eliar,” she said, “would you be so good as to open one of those kegs over there for me?”
“Of course, Andine,” Eliar replied. He rose, went to the stack of kegs, and removed the lid from one of them.
“Pour it out on the floor,” she commanded.
“On the floor?”
“That’s the part of the room on the bottom, Eliar. The sides are called walls, and we call the top the ceiling. Pour, Eliar, pour.”
“If you say so.” Eliar took the keg and tipped it slowly, spilling out a cascade of bright yellow coins that tinkled musically on the floor.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” Andine said to the startled Chiefs.
They didn’t answer. Althalus noticed that most of them weren’t even breathing.
Eliar shook out the last of the coins. “It’s empty, Andine,” he reported.
“Pour out another one, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took up another keg.
Two kegs later, Andine held up one hand. “That should be enough for right now,” she told him, eying the heap of coins on the floor. Then she smiled winsomely at the assembled Clan Chiefs of Arum. “Have I managed to get your attention yet, gentlemen?” she asked archly.
“I don’t know about the others, but you’ve got mine, Princess,” Gweti choked.
“Maybe I’ll let you have your supper after all, Chief Gweti,” she said in her throbbing voice. “See, gentlemen, I’m not really all that hard to get along with.” Then her tone changed to become almost a challenge. “The whole point of this little display, gentlemen, is that I’m hiring. Are you interested?”
Old Chief Delur was trembling uncontrollably. “My clan is yours to command, Imperial Arya!” he declared.
“Isn’t he just the dearest old gentleman in the world?” Andine said fondly.
“Who did you want us to kill, little girl?” Twengor demanded. “Give me his name, and I’ll bring you his head.”
“Astonishing!” Andine said in mock amazement. “Everybody says that making speeches is difficult. I didn’t seem to have any trouble at all.”
“Any speech goes over better with musical accompaniment, Andine,” Leitha suggested. “And Eliar plays the gold keg like a world-renowned virtuoso.”
“It’s the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard,” Koleika said fervently. “I’m glad I stayed for the concert.”
“I’m just a silly little girl,” Andine told them, “So I’ll let my Lord High Chamberlain give you all the tiresome details. Now that I’ve earned your love, I’m certain that you just can’t wait to do as I ask.”
“And what might that be, your Highness?” Gweti asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Would ‘Burn! Fight! Kill!’ be too much to ask?”
“I don’t have any problems with that,” Chief Laiwon said. “Just say the word, Arya Andine, and burn, fight, kill it is.”
Althalus was a bit nonplused as he rose to his feet. “My beloved Arya appears to have pulled the rug out from under me,” he told the Clan Chiefs with a rueful expression. “I was the one who was supposed to show you that lovely gold.”
“Always trust a woman to seize any opportunity to show off her attributes,” Tauri said with a knowing laugh.
“Maybe that’s it,” Althalus conceded. “Anyway, I was supposed to describe the situation to you first and then pour out gold to let you know that she was ready to pay. She’s managed to steal my main talking point.”
“She did get our undivided attention, though, Chamberlain Althalus,” Albron said easily. “I think it’s safe to say that we’ve already been enlisted. All that’s left for you to do is identify the unlucky people who’ve crossed her.”
“Well,” Althalus said, “her finger’s currently pointed at Kanthon, but it goes perhaps a little further. The Aryo of Kanthon thinks he’s right on the verge of becoming the ruler of the whole of Treborea, but thinking isn’t his strong point. ‘Half-wit’ is probably the kindest thing anybody’s ever said about him.”
The Chiefs laughed.
“Actually, the Kanthons have been duped by the Nekweros. My beloved ruler knows this. Don’t let her wide-eyed innocence deceive you, gentlemen. Her mind is sharper than any knife, and she knows exactly who the real enemy is. Agents from Nahgharash have been enlisting troublemakers in every land in the low country, and my Arya would be ever so grateful if you’d slaughter those troublemakers just a little bit.”
“Isn’t ‘slaughter’ an absolute, Chamberlain Althalus?” Albron asked. “I don’t see exactly how you could half slaughter somebody. Anyway, after we’re wading knee-deep in blood, she wants us to invade Nekweros, right?”
“Later, perhaps,” Althalus replied. “Arya Andine thinks it might be best to dispose of any hostile forces to our rear before we mount an assault on Nahgharash. She seems to believe that neatness counts for something.”
“Neat might be nice,” Twengor half bellowed, “but I like her ‘Burn! Fight! Kill!’ idea much more. Wouldn’t that be a great motto to put on a battle flag?” He roared with half-drunk laughter.
“This is going to be more complicated than that, Chamberlain Althalus,” the pimple-faced Smeugor said pointedly. “We can bluster as much as we like, but the simple fact is that you’re not talking about a siege or a single battle. You’re talking about a general war stretching from Ansu to Regwos. We Arums are the finest warriors in the world, but are we really ready for that kind of war?”
“Smeugor’s right,” Tauri joined in quickly. “Gold’s very nice, but a man has to be alive to spend it. A war like this would spread us so thin that we wouldn’t have a chance in the world of winning.”
“If you feel that way about it, Tauri, stay home,” Twengor boomed. “I’ve never lost a fight in my life, and I’d attack the sun if the pay was right.”
That particular argument lasted for most of the rest of the day. Smeugor and Tauri kept raising more and more objections, hammering on the fact that there weren’t enough Arums to fight a general war. Twengor and the others scoffed at that notion, but the two southern Clan Chiefs kept coming back to it.
“It’s getting late, gentlemen.” Chief Albron stepped in smoothly as the sun was setting. “Why don’t we adjourn for supper? We can discuss this further tomorrow.”
“Our host is correct, my sons,” old Chief Delur intoned. “Let us to table and then to bed, that we may think more clearly on the morrow.”
“Well put,” Koleika murmured, with no hint of a smile.
“You must be mistaken, Leitha!” Albron exclaimed later that evening when they’d left the Clan Chiefs carousing in the dining hall.
“No, Chief Albron,” the pale girl replied firmly. “Smeugor and Tauri are both working for Ghend.”
“Should we kill them?” Gher said.
“I think you’d better put a leash on this boy, Althalus,” Albron suggested. “I can’t think of a quicker way to start a clan war than killing those two.”
“It’d also slam the door on something that might be very useful,” Althalus mused. “Since I know that they’re working for Ghend, they provide a perfect way to pass false information to him. I can use them to lead Ghend around by the nose.”
“Only for so long, Althalus,” Bheid pointed out. “After they’ve sent him down the garden path a few times, he’s bound to have them both killed.”
“What a shame,” Althalus sighed with mock regret. “Of course that’d mean that the clans of Smeugor and Tauri would be morally obliged to go to war with Ghend’s clan, wouldn’t they? And isn’t that more or less what we really want anyway? We’ll all be terribly sorry, of course, but you know what people say about clouds and sil
ver linings. I’m almost certain we’ll be able to bear our grief. After all, we’re terribly brave, aren’t we?”
———
The Clan Chiefs gathered again in the room at the back of Albron’s castle immediately after breakfast the next morning. “Where’s the gold?” Chief Gweti demanded in an alarmed bleat.
“We put it in a safe place,” Althalus replied. “We certainly wouldn’t want some thief to steal it, would we?”
“May the Gods forbid!” Gweti replied fervently.
“I have it on the best authority that they will,” Althalus replied. “I take it then that you gentlemen have decided that you’d like to go to work for my beloved Arya?”
“Right after the haggling,” Twengor said. He looked at Andine. “How much are you willing to pay, little lady—and for how long?”
“I’ve enlisted the aid of a certain Sergeant Khalor,” Andine replied. “He’s one of Chief Albron’s most experienced officers, and he knows far more about these details than I could ever hope to know. He’ll make certain that I don’t get cheated. You gentlemen are going to have to look out for yourselves.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Gweti said with obvious disappointment. “I was sort of hoping—”
“That you could swindle me personally, Chief Gweti?” she asked archly. “You wouldn’t really take advantage of a poor, innocent little girl, would you?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
He sighed with a certain resignation. “No, I suppose not.”
“Isn’t he a dear?” Andine said fondly. “Leitha and I’ll leave you gentlemen to your entertainments then. As I understand it, haggling about prices can grow quite emotional, and it involves some highly colorful language that innocent ladies shouldn’t hear. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen—but no hitting.” Then she swept from the room with Leitha close behind her.
The Redemption of Althalus Page 32