by Tim Jones
Opposite him, Vulumensthetika clapped her hands. "Music!" she said. Expecting some band of players to appear from the shadows, Kendik was surprised to see several of the diners, including the t'skrang next to Viknis, climb to their feet and retrieve musical instruments from the corners of the tent.
Kendik saw Viknis look on longingly as the musicians, with flute, pipe, lute, and drum, set to work. He was expecting some lengthy, ceremonial piece that would allow him to drift away into his own thoughts, but instead the musicians played tunes he was familiar with, including some his mother had sung to him. Had those tunes been t'skrang in origin? Now he came to think of it, they seemed too lively to have originated from the elves, supposedly the fount of all things musical. There was clearly more to the t'skrang than a spot of river piracy—but as long as no one asked him to play anything, he'd be happy.
The music halted. Looking up, Kendik saw that Viknis' t'skrang neighbor, the flute player, was trying to coax Viknis to join them. In truth, he didn't need much coaxing. With a bashful smile, Viknis got to his feet and joined the group, though he lurked near the back and did not attempt to do more than follow the rhythm on his borrowed lute. Qualia looked on, delighted.
After a couple more tunes, and without any evident signal from Vulumensthetika, the musicians stopped playing, and the crowd of diners dispersed—t'skrang leaving the tent and resuming whatever duties they had among the rest of the army outside. That left Vulumensthetika, T'shifa, one or two other t'skrang whom Kendik assumed to be guards, and the humans, who gathered a little closer to each other, uncertain of what awaited.
Vulumensthetika looked across at Kendik. "We meet again, my duke," she said. "I take it that you never delivered your letter?"
Kendik fought hard not to look embarrassed. "When we returned to Borzim, we found that circumstances had changed."
"Indeed," said Vulumensthetika. "My intelligence network— most of it—taken apart, and its most prominent members hung on poles outside the North Gate. They spared two of my humans, and gave them a message for the shivalahala herself. Needless to say, we did not permit them to enter her presence, but the message was highly insulting—so insulting, when taken in the context of Lord Tesek's recent behavior, that our honor required us to avenge the insult. Hence we did what we would rather not do: gather an army and set out to take the town of Borzim, by sword or by siege."
"Do you command this army?" asked Kendik.
"The army travels under the banner of the House of the Wheel," said Vulumensthetika. She meant it literally: there was a banner behind her, a white paddle wheel set against a red background. "We do the bidding of the shivalahala, of whom I will not speak further. She has entrusted her counselors with various tasks, and it is my task to deal with the Name-givers of Borzim and the plains villages, and with the representatives of Borzim, such as yourselves."
"We do not represent Borzim!" protested Kendik.
"And yet what do I see before me?" replied Vulumensthetika imperturbably. "Two guards of that town, one accompanied by her son, evidently a musician of promise. One who has been passing himself off as no less than a duke, and his companion, a man who lost his brother in the service of Borzim. Only you, my dear," she said, turning to Anarya, "might with some justice proclaim your independence from the ruler of Borzim."
"I am a swordswoman," said Anarya, "and seek to protect virtue and punish wrongdoing."
"Virtue and wrongdoing!" exclaimed Vulumensthetika. "Your aims are lofty indeed. And where, my dear, do you consider that virtue lies in the present situation?"
"I was a prisoner of Lord Tesek," said Anarya. "I have no love for his reign."
"So would say many of Tesek's subjects, had one the chance to question them away from the prying eyes of Tesek's guards. And yet they stay loyal to him, for fear of the alternative."
"Better rule by Tesek than rule by the Ishkarat!" burst out Viknis.
Kendik winced, expecting that Vulumensthetika would have Viknis dragged away to some horrible fate, but, although her snout drew downwards a little in what Kendik fancied to be disapproval, she did not raise her voice.
"What do we of the Ishkarat desire?" Vulumensthetika asked. "Do we desire to foul the waters that feed the Serpent with the filth of our slums and our manufactories? Do we desire to cut down the forests that clothe the land to feed our cooking fires? Do we desire dominion over others?"
"Ask those who died building Axalekso what the Ishkarat desire," said Sezhina. "Ask the slain Marathans whether the Ishkarat desire dominion."
Vulumensthetika hissed, and stood, and drew her scimitar. "Lies!" she said. "Lies put about by our enemies, who seek to cloak their weakness in words. What we of the Ishkarat desire is order, and the right to trade in peace. The shivalahala does not tolerate traitors and rebels in our midst, but what ruler does? Does Lord Tesek? Your own example makes it clear that he does not." She turned to Kendik again. "Twice now I have offered you hospitality. Is this how you repay me, by bringing libel and dissension into my very tent?"
The child in Kendik wanted to dash for the exit, run for the hills, make his way back to his home village and hide under his mother's skirts until the danger was past. The man drew himself up to his full height, overtopping Vulumensthetika by several inches, and took two paces towards her. Her scimitar remained drawn.
"I did not seek your hospitality," he said, "though I thank you for it. Nor do we seek to do you any dishonor. But we are not your subjects, and have the right to act and to speak as seems best to us."
"Fine words, and well said," replied Vulumensthetika. She sheathed her scimitar, though her hand hovered near the hilt of her ceremonial dagger. "But let us stop talking of desire and of honor. Let us speak of practical matters. T'shifa?"
T'shifa, who had sat placidly throughout the previous exchanges, now rose to her feet. "Though Tesek has not learned all the secrets of the tunnels beneath his town, nor of all our safe houses and our agents, it is clear he has learned enough to repel an assault by stealth. We cannot take the town from beneath. As matters stand, we lack the mechanisms or the magic that would allow us to breach the walls, and though some of us—"
"No," said Vulumensthetika. "We will not discuss that matter again."
"As you wish," said T'shifa, snout drawn downwards. "In the air we do not go. That leaves siege, or parlay. Hunger is our most powerful ally. In the end—with losses on our side, perhaps, but losses we can bear—we can bring this town to its knees, and leave its people dying of hunger in the streets."
"Or," said Vulumensthetika, "we could appeal to whatever shreds of reason Lord Tesek still possesses, and ask to talk."
"What would be your terms?" asked Kendik.
"That he and his counselors leave Borzim, never to return. If they ever come within range of Ishkarat ships or crews, they will meet a swift and bloody death. In this, we are being generous, for an insult such as they have delivered us should not go unavenged."
"And who would rule the town then?"
"One who is acceptable to us. Doubtless there are those in Borzim who would put themselves forward once Tesek is gone."
"If you were so certain you could take the town, you wouldn't be offering Tesek a way out," said Sezhina.
"Oh, we can take it," said T'shifa. "But what t'skrang would want to lay siege to a town, when the river flows nearby and the boats are bobbing on the current? And as for our ork friends, they are great fighters, but their services do not come free. Our pockets are not so deep—"
"Silence," hissed Vulumensthetika.
For a moment, as T'shifa and Vulumensthetika glared at each other, Kendik thought that blood would be shed; but then T'shifa shrugged her shoulders, in the most human-like gesture Kendik had seen from her, subsided, and sat down.
"Tesek is an oaf," Vulumensthetika continued, "but some of his advisors have more subtlety. It is whispered that several of them warned him against insulting the House of the Wheel, but, mastered by pride, he would not listen. Even his chi
ef advisor, the Wizard Niatos, could not dissuade him."
"How do you know?" asked Kendik.
"Many of our spies were captured," said T'shifa, "but not all."
"Now," said Vulumensthetika, "Lord Tesek was very clear on the matter of what he would do to any t'skrang who entered within the walls of Borzim. Therefore, we need other emissaries. It seems to me—"
As Kendik realized what she meant, he also realized that a number of other t'skrang—large, sword-bearing t'skrang—were entering the tent. For a moment, Sezhina looked as if she might make a break, either for the entrance or to get her hands round Vulumensthetika's neck, but she did not. It was too late.
Kendik tried his best. "We are fugitives, wanted for our parts in the deaths of three Falcons!" he said. "It would be death to send us back there!"
"We do not think it will be. Yet Lord Tesek is angry with you, so perhaps there will be difficulties. We would not dream of subjecting your injured colleagues to this ordeal, so they will stay with us, to await your return. As you see," said Vulumensthetika, waving languidly at the newcomers, "our healers are anxious to resume their care. We have, I believe, one with damaged ribs, and her son, whose skill with the lute greatly exceeds his skill at holding his tongue. You can practice your playing, young man, and watch over your mother. Then we have the young lady of high ideals, whose shoulder will take some time yet to heal before it can be put to the task of upholding virtue. Clearly, Kendik, who knows our ways and the ways of the town alike, should go. For his companion and protector, I would choose Atlan—you will note that we have waived our previous strictures on his presence in Ishkarat lands—but he is not his right self at present, and is in especial need of our healers' arts. That means that we will send you, Kendik—and I recommend a little less emphasis on your Ducal status when you are in Lord Tesek's presence—and you, Sezhina."
"This is a death warrant for both of us," Sezhina said.
"If it is, then is it any less than you deserve, defender of rebels? But we think that Tesek has had time to reflect on the rashness of his actions. He may not be pleased to see you, but he will listen to what you have to say, and he will read the letter you will carry." She turned to Kendik. "If you feel any urge not to deliver this second letter, Kendik, reflect that the health and welfare of your companions depend on your actions once you leave this tent. I am sure they will be as anxious for the successful completion of your mission as I am."
Vulumensthetika made a signal, and the guards escorted his companions, all but Sezhina, out of the tent. Viknis protested, but it made no difference. There was no time for farewells, and nothing Kendik could do. Anarya threw him a glance and a smile as she left. Then she was gone.
Vulumensthetika handed him another letter, snug within its envelope and seal. "You will deliver this to Lord Tesek, and await his reply. Whatever that reply is, if you bear it back to me and deliver it, you and your companions are free to go in any direction you desire—even to Axalekso, if you wish, to stand on the cliffs high above Lake Vors, and see what marvels of magic and art we have wrought there."
"Even Atlan?"
"Even Atlan."
"And if we do not return?"
"Think only that you shall," said Vulumensthetika.
T'shifa led them outside and handed them over to the care of an ork chieftain and his band. With a white flag of truce held incongruously in the chieftain's massive hand, they left the camp and began to march towards the West Gate. Kendik saw Archers on the walls, but they did not fire. The noises of wind and of the birds were stilled. There was no sound but the ringing of the orks' boots on the stones of the road.
They stopped a spear's throw from the gate. The chieftain walked up to the gates and banged on them with his hand, the hollow "boom" reverberating from the walls.
"Open up!" he said. "The House of the Wheel has a message for Lord Tesek!"
There was a long, tense silence. Then, slowly, the gate opened. Behind it Kendik could see masses of guards, most in blue and brown, a few in black. One stepped forwards.
"Lord Tesek invites the impostor Kendik Dezelek and the traitor Sezhina Chezarin to enter Borzim," she said.
The ranks of the orks parted. Kendik and Sezhina stepped forward. Walking slowly, bearing their swords proudly at their sides, they passed through the gates and advanced towards their fate.
Chapter 15
Lord Tesek had got the builders in. His palace uphill from the Opthia was already ornamented with sheets of beaten gold, gargoyles, statues of various mythologized ancestors, and curlicued pillars. Now he was turning the swept and graveled path that led to his front door into a colonnaded entranceway, and replacing the comparatively modest front porch with a porticoed entrance as opulent as it was tasteless.
When finished, the result would doubtless impress and overawe his neighbors—whose houses, not inconsiderable in themselves, were already cowering in the shadow of the palace—and all his other toiling subjects. At the moment, though, the place was a mess. The slow and solemn progress which Kendik and Sezhina's escorts had contrived from the West Gate to this point was sabotaged by the need to avoid piles of masonry, trenches across which a single plank had reluctantly been laid, and little knots of laborers who were standing round in the late afternoon sun, leaning on shovels and looking as if they owned the place.
"Make a break for it?" muttered Sezhina out of the corner of her mouth, as they passed in single file across the first plank bridge.
Kendik shook his head. His stomach was churning, but for the sake of Anarya and her fellow hostages, he was determined to see this through.
It had been nerve-wracking enough getting this far. A number of citizens had conquered their fear of the Falcons sufficiently to come to jeer at the traitors who, in their minds, personified the threat facing Borzim. There had been no overt violence, but Kendik and Sezhina had been hit by various bits of rubbish—most of it soft and squishy—thrown from the crowd. Their escort had maintained a dignified silence.
Not far past Vyaka Longtusk's tavern, the crowds had petered out, and as the group climbed towards the palace, they had passed the houses of the rich and powerful, whose households had contented themselves with glimpses of the miscreants from their windows.
Now they were almost at the gates of Tesek's palace. Three wide steps of polished marble led up to the building's imposing entryway, though the effect was rather ruined by head-high piles of tiles laid out on the topmost step.
"Halt!" ordered the leader of their escorts. Obligingly, they halted. A runner was dispatched inside the building, and in a few minutes, a new batch of guards, clad in scarlet and gold, marched out the front door. Saluting ensued, and Sezhina and Kendik were handed over to the care of the palace guards. No one was sorry to see the back of the Falcons.
The commander of the new guard detail, a large, square-rigged man, addressed them. "Envoys of the t'skrang!" he said. "You are about to be admitted to the palace of Lord Tesek, ruler of Borzim. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will follow our orders. You will come."
The commander turned on his heel. His detachment surrounded them, giving them no choice but to obey the commander's orders, and escorted them into the palace itself.
If anything, the scene immediately inside was even more chaotic. Teams of workers, shouted at by overseers, were moving a large stone pillar into position to their left. To their right, footings were being prepared for more pillars. Behind these eddies of activity, there were doorways leading off into shaded corridors, but the guards moved straight ahead, towards another set of doors that opened onto a gravel path. To his surprise, Kendik found himself in a garden, surrounded on all four sides by the palace. The sun had left the garden now, and the air was cool, but at noon this must be a fine place for Lord Tesek to disport himself. Only the stacks of stone—including another half dozen pillars-in-waiting—and some wooden buildings to their right disfigured this little oasis of peace and good order.
All too soon, their boots ha
d crunched down the length of the gravel path and into the far entrance of the palace. Here they turned right and made their way along a dimly lit corridor to an ornate set of wooden stairs. They climbed up two stories, turned left, walked along another corridor—this one more richly decorated and more brightly lit than the last—and stopped at a high wooden door flanked by yet more guards.
"Step forward," said the commander of the guards who had escorted them. Kendik and Sezhina obliged. They were ordered to remove their swords, then subjected, despite their protestations, to a thorough search. There was nothing Kendik could do to prevent the guards finding the original letter, so he made no attempt to hide it. The guard who found it passed it on to her commander.
"Can't read this," said the commander. "You know what it says?"
"No."
"This needs a Wizard. Devlit!"
In answer to this summons, a thin, harried-looking man emerged from a door on the opposite side of the corridor.
"Take a look at all this stuff and make sure it's what it seems," said the commander. "Sword, letter, another letter from this pris-oner—what have we got from the other one?—another sword, a dagger, a cestus—plenty to go on with."
"We are charged to deliver the letter—no, that letter—to Lord Tesek," said Kendik. "You must check it here and return it to us."
"I don't take orders from you," said Devlit, but he subjected the envelope to close, and evidently magical, scrutiny.
"It's just a letter," he said, returning it to Kendik. "As for this other one, I'll take it away and examine it."
"Better check what they're wearing as well," said the guard.
Looking more apprehensive than ever, Devlit stood in front of Kendik, made a complicated gesture, and passed his hand slowly down his front. Shaking his head, he moved on to Sezhina, who was not looking happy.
"Put your hand there and you'll lose it," she said after a moment. Devlit hovered his hand a suitably modest distance from Sezhina's torso, then pronounced himself satisfied that she, too, was what she seemed. He staggered off under the weight of their weaponry.