The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  Exarch Aleikon winced.

  “I don’t have the time to be diplomatic, Prince Marwain,” Bheid continued, “so I’m going to put this to you rather bluntly. You and the rest of the aristocracy—with the connivance of the Brown Robe order—have been running roughshod over the commoners for a long time, and now it’s coming home to roost. Your arrogance and outright brutality have opened the door for certain people you really don’t want to meet. Those people have stirred up the commoners of Perquaine to the point that nothing’s going to satisfy them but blood, and it’s your blood they want.”

  Prince Marwain’s face turned pale.

  “You seem to have grasped my point,” Bheid said. “That isn’t an army that’s marching on Maghu, Prince Marwain. It’s an undisciplined sea of people, and they’ll walk right over any force you could possibly raise. They’ll swarm into Maghu like a horde of ants, killing anybody who gets in their way. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if their first order of business is going to be putting your head on a pole over the city gate, and then they’ll probably loot Maghu right down to the cobblestones. After that, they’ll most likely burn the city to the ground.”

  “God wouldn’t permit that!” Marwain asserted.

  “I wouldn’t make any large wagers on that, your Highness,” Bheid told him. “I’m fairly well acquainted with God, and he doesn’t usually involve himself in the affairs of people.”

  “This is starting to get tiresome,” Althalus muttered. “Have you got the location of the door to the island Em told us about locked in your mind, Eliar?”

  “Pretty much, yes,” the kilted young Arum replied. “We aren’t going to use it now, though, are we?”

  “I can’t see any reason why not. I’ll blow some smoke in Marwain’s ear about a secret tunnel down in the cellar. Then we’ll take him and Aleikon downstairs. Pick any door down there that suits you and lead us on through into the House. Then you can lead them to their new home. Pay fairly close attention to what I tell Marwain and make things sort of match up. All right?”

  “Anything you say, Althalus,” Eliar agreed.

  Then Althalus rose and crossed the room to the richly dressed Prince Marwain. “Excuse me, your Highness,” he said politely. “My name’s Althalus, and I’m sometimes known as the Duke of Kenthaigne.”

  “I’ve heard of you, your Grace,” Marwain said with a slight bow.

  “Your Highness.” Althalus also bowed. “I had to set aside my personal business to assist Exarch Bheid with certain courtesies and practicalities. Churches sometimes seem to have trouble with those—or had you noticed?”

  Marwain laughed. “Many, many times, your Grace,” he replied.

  “I thought you might have.” Althalus threw a quick glance at Exarch Aleikon. The high churchman’s wooden expression strongly suggested that Dweia had already closed down his mind. Althalus spoke again to Marwain. “Anyway, when I heard the news about this human sea marching on Maghu, I started looking for an escape route. Exarch Bheid might believe that he can pray his way out of this mess, but I think I’d prefer to look after myself. I snooped around here in the temple, and I found an ideal way to leave Maghu, completely unnoticed. Since we’re both noblemen, courtesy obliges me to share that information with you.” He sighed theatrically. “Sometimes I’m so courteous that I can barely stand myself.”

  Marwain grinned broadly. “You and I are going to get along just fine, Duke Althalus,” he said.

  “I’m sure of it. There’s no real hurry at the moment, since the rebels haven’t found their way here yet, but when things start getting noisy here in Maghu, we might get separated, so maybe I’d better show you—and Exarch Aleikon—this quick way out of town right now, so that you’ll be able to find it yourselves in the event of an emergency.”

  “Excellent idea, Duke Althalus. Where’s your escape route located?”

  “In the cellar, of course. Underground passages almost always start in a cellar. This one hasn’t been used for centuries, if the cobwebs I had to wade through are any indication. It goes under the streets of Maghu and comes out in some woods out beyond the city walls. Nobody’ll see us leave, and nobody’ll see us when we come out of the tunnel.”

  “We may never need it,” Marwain said, “but it might not be a bad idea to have a look at it, eh, Aleikon?”

  “As your Highness commands,” Aleikon said in a numb voice.

  “Lead the way then, Eliar,” Althalus said.

  “Right,” Eliar replied, starting toward the door.

  What are they seeing? Althalus sent his quick thought to Eliar.

  Cobwebs, torchlight, a few mice, the young man replied. If you’ve seen one tunnel, you’ve pretty much seen them all.

  You’re probably right. How much farther?

  Just a little way. The door opens into a small clearing in the woods. When we get to it, give me a moment to adjust the door frame. It’s morning in Maghu, but it’s already nighttime in Dhweria. I’ll have to arrange for us to come out at pretty much the same time of day so Marwain doesn’t get suspicious.

  Good idea, Althalus agreed.

  Eliar moved quickly on ahead, paused for a few moments, and then looked back. “Here it is,” he called back.

  “Well, finally,” Marwain said. “I was starting to think your tunnel went on forever, Duke Althalus.”

  “Maghu is a fairly big city, your Highness,” Althalus reminded him. “Now, as soon as we come out in the woods, we’d better take a quick look around to make certain that nobody’s watching us. Why don’t you and the Exarch push on through to the far edge of the grove of trees while Eliar and I go back to the side facing the city walls? We don’t want some peasant with a big mouth telling everybody in town that he just saw us, do we?”

  “Not even the least little bit,” Marwain agreed. “A thorough search is definitely in order. After we’ve taken a look around, we’ll meet back at the mouth of the tunnel, right?”

  “Exactly,” Althalus agreed. “When you get to the edge of the trees, you might want to see if there’s a ravine or a brushy lane leading off to the east. If we need to be sneaky when we leave town, we should plan ahead.”

  “You’re very good at this, Duke Althalus.”

  “I had a fairly exciting boyhood, your Highness. The Duchy of Kenthaigne was a lively place to grow up. We’ll see you in a half hour or so.”

  “Right,” Marwain agreed. “Come along, Aleikon.” Then the two of them crossed the clearing and entered the woods.

  Em, Althalus called silently.

  Her voice came back immediately. Yes, love?

  You might want to keep Aleikon’s head turned off for a little while. Let those two wander around in the woods for a bit before Marwain finds out the bad news.

  Whatever makes you happy, dear.

  Althalus reached out and thoughtfully patted the open door. “Keep the location of this one in mind, Eliar,” he suggested. “It might be very useful on down the line. Emmy’s tail fluffs out when I kill people, and this gives me an alternative. Let’s go back to Maghu and pick up the others. I think we’ll need to have a little private conference.”

  “Right,” Eliar agreed. Then he led Althalus back into the east corridor of the House and quietly closed the door behind them.

  Sergeant Khalor had been at the window in Dweia’s tower all day, and his face was bleak when Althalus and the others came up the stairs. “My best guess is two weeks,” he reported. “They’re consolidating their positions as they move north, and that’s not really an army down there. It’s an undisciplined mob, and most of them are much more interested in looting than they are in religion or social change.”

  “Revolutions tend to turn out that way,” Dweia said rather sadly. “The theorists make high-minded speeches. Their followers cheer and applaud—briefly—and then they get back to the business of appropriating everything of value.”

  “You’re in a cynical humor this evening, Em,” Althalus noted.

  “I’ve seen this
all before, Althalus,” she replied wearily, “many, many times. An idea that’s born in glory starts to tarnish almost immediately.” She sighed and then seemed to shake off her gloom. “There are a few things you’ll all need to know. The dream I gave you established what and where.”

  “I know that you and Leitha were in the temple in Maghu,” Andine said, “but exactly what were you doing?”

  “Cleaning house,” Dweia replied simply. “Leitha disposed of Koman, Bheid and I dealt with Argan.”

  “That’s the where and the what, Emmy,” Gher said, “but what about the when? Ghend always seems to play around with the when part when he comes up with one of those dream things. Did your dream thing happen now? Or is it maybe in some other when?”

  “It wasn’t in the world of now, Gher. In order for a dream vision to really work, it has to be either in the past or in the future. Their purpose is to change things. It’s remotely possible to make changes by altering now, but it’s easier if you go back—or forward.”

  “That seems to have gone right past me,” Andine admitted.

  “That’s probably because Emmy hasn’t really made up her mind yet,” Gher said. “I’d guess that a few more things are going to have to happen before she can be sure about the when part. She knows about what and where, but she can’t exactly nail down the when part until the bad people get to the town with the funny name.”

  “Maghu,” Leitha supplied.

  “I guess so,” Gher said. “Anyway, I think Emmy’s waiting until Argan and the other one walk into the church before she picks out the when. I kind of think it was like that time in Wekti when we all dreamed about somewhen when the bad lady’s ax was made out of a sharp rock.”

  “I love this boy,” Leitha said fondly. “I could ponder the meaning of ‘somewhen’ for weeks on end. You should learn how to write, Gher. You have the soul of a poet.”

  Gher flushed. “Not really,” he admitted. “It’s just that I don’t know the right words for what I’m thinking, so I have to make words up. Anyway, Argan and his friend—except that they aren’t really friends—are going to dash into the church, but when they go through the door, it won’t be now inside. The ordinary people who are coming along behind them are going to get a real big surprise, I think, because it’ll look like their leaders just got themselves turned into nothing. That’ll scare the teeth out of that crowd, I’ll bet, and they’ll probably decide that this revolution stuff isn’t very much fun anymore. Then they’ll all pack up and go back home, and we won’t have to kill hardly any of them at all. That’s really just about the best way there is to fight a war, don’t you think?”

  “You should stop and take a breath once in a while, Gher,” Andine said fondly. “You get so enthusiastic sometimes.”

  “Have you chosen which time you’re going to use, Emmy?” Eliar asked.

  “A time when the temple is mine,” she replied.

  “Back in the past?”

  “Perhaps,” she said with a mysterious little smile, “or it might be in the future instead.”

  “Are you planning to return to your temple, Dweia?” Bheid asked, sounding a bit worried.

  “I never left, Bheid. The temple’s still mine, and it always will be. I’m just letting you use it for the time being.” She gave him a sly look. “Maybe someday when you’re not too busy we should take up the matter of the back rent your Church owes me for the use of my building. It’s been mounting up for quite some time, you know.”

  “How did they change their faces, Emmy?” Gher asked curiously as they watched from the window while several scarlet-robed priests moved through the vast mob of peasants and day laborers camped outside the gates of Maghu about sixteen days later. “They had those steel things hanging off their helmets over in Equero, but their faces are right out in the open over here in Perquaine.”

  “It’s just an illusion, Gher. Daeva’s very good at illusions, and he’s taught his priests how to do it.”

  “How are we going to make them look the way they really are when the time comes?”

  “We won’t have to,” she replied. “Eliar’s Knife will strip away the illusions when he shows it to them.”

  “I sure wish I had a knife like that.”

  “You don’t really need one, Gher. You can see and understand reality better than anyone else in the world.”

  “Well, maybe not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Have you managed to empty out the city yet, Brother Bheid?” Sergeant Khalor asked.

  “More or less, Sergeant. There are quite a few hiding in cellars and attics in the shabbier parts of town.” Bheid smiled faintly. “Those are the ones who’ll join Argan’s people as soon as they come through the city gates. They’re just getting an early start on the looting, I guess.”

  “Why must they always set fires?” Bheid asked Althalus as the two of them stood on the portico of the temple waiting and watching the columns of smoke rising from various quarters of the city.

  “I’m not really sure, Bheid,” Althalus confessed. “It might just be accidental. Looters are usually fairly excited, and sometimes they get careless. My best guess, though, is that the fires are being set deliberately to punish the noblemen for their bad habits.”

  “That’s pure stupidity, Althalus,” Bheid objected.

  “Of course it is. It’s the nature of mobs to be stupid. A mob’s only as clever as its stupidest member.”

  Bheid reached out tentatively as if to touch something directly in front of him.

  “Quit worrying about it, Bheid,” Althalus told him. “The shield’s still in place, and nothing can penetrate it—except for your voice, of course.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Trust me, Bheid. Nobody’s going to shoot you full of arrows or split your skull with a pickax. Leitha’d set my brain on fire if I let anything happen to you. Are your people in place?”

  Bheid nodded. “They’ll filter into that crowd along with the local rebels.” He sighed regretfully. “I wish we didn’t have to do it this way, Althalus. It seems so dishonest.”

  “So? Isn’t it better to control a crowd my way rather than Prince Marwain’s?”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Bheid admitted.

  “They’re coming,” Althalus warned, pointing toward the other side of the square, where several men armed with farm tools had just appeared. “I’d better get out of sight now. I’ll be at the window. It’s right behind you and about four feet above your head. If something starts to go wrong, I’ll pull you out. Let’s go over this one more time: it’s an elaborate little dance, so let’s be sure we’ve got the steps right.”

  “We’ve been through it a dozen times already, Althalus,” Bheid said.

  “Humor me, Brother Bheid. You start out on the portico to greet Argan and Koman when they reach the steps. Eliar’s going to be at the temple door. Argan and Koman will come across the square, and they’ll bluster at you.”

  “And Koman will be listening to my every thought,” Bheid added.

  “No, actually he won’t. Leitha’s going to blot him out. She’ll fill his other set of ears with noise. Now, here’s where it starts to get tricky. Argan demands to be admitted to the temple, and you invite him to go inside. That’s when you move back to your right, clearing the way for them.”

  “Yes, I know, and that’s when Eliar opens the temple door and goes over to the left side of the portico.”

  “You actually remembered,” Althalus said drily. “Amazing. The whole point of our little dance is to put Eliar between Argan and Koman and that mob that’s following them. When he raises the Knife, Argan and Koman are going to run one way, and the mob’s going to run the other. Emmy doesn’t want a crowd in the temple while she’s working. Then you get to preach your little sermon to the crowd, say ‘Amen,’ and join the ladies in the temple. Don’t dawdle, Bheid. Emmy can’t start evaporating Argan until you’re in place. Have you got it all straight?”

  “As many times as w
e’ve been through it, I could probably do it in my sleep.”

  “I’d really rather you didn’t, Brother Bheid. Keep your eyes and ears open. If something unexpected crops up, we might have to modify things a bit, and if I tell you to jump, just jump. I’m not inviting you to an extended debate.”

  Aren’t you being just a bit obvious, love? Dweia’s voice murmured.

  Sometimes it’s necessary to keep Bheid on a tight leash, Em, he replied. Every so often he breaks out in a rash of creativity. How’s Leitha holding out?

  She knows that what she has to do is absolutely necessary. Help her as much as you possibly can, Althalus.

  He nodded and took his place at the window.

  Argan’s red-clad henchmen were in the forefront of the advancing crowd as the square before the steps of the temple filled with eager commoners. Then Argan and Koman pushed their way forward. “On to the temple!” Argan shouted.

  “Hold steady, Bheid,” Althalus told his friend. “They can’t get to you, no matter what they do.”

  “Right,” Bheid answered.

  Then Althalus turned slightly. “You’d better go on down now,” he told Eliar. “Try to be sort of inconspicuous.”

  “I know what to do, Althalus,” Eliar replied, drawing up the cowl of the priestly grey robe he wore. Then he opened the door beside the window and stepped through to a position in the entryway of the temple.

  Argan and Koman reached the foot of the temple steps. “Stand aside if you value your life!” Argan shouted to Bheid.

  “What is it that you want?” Bheid asked in an oddly formal tone.

  “That should be obvious by now, old boy,” Argan replied sardonically. “We’re taking the temple. Now move aside while you still can. The Red Robes are now the Church of Perquaine!”