earthdawn Anarya's Secret

by Tim Jones

  "Perhaps you should advance to meet them alone," said T'shifa. "We have your own white flag hereabouts."

  "You should speak with more respect to the future ruler of Bor-zim," said Vulumensthetika. To Kendik's surprise, T'shifa inclined her head respectfully and kept her mouth shut.

  Protected by ork and t'skrang, they waited for the riders to approach. Kendik recognized Devlit in their midst as they drew closer. "It might be advisable to get Hathilt out here," he said, "That man is their Wizard."

  For answer, Vulumensthetika gestured behind her. Turning, Kendik saw the t'skrang Illusionist standing a few steps behind them, trying to hunch his whole body away from the weak sunlight.

  "He's not really the outdoors type, is he?" said Kendik.

  The rain swept in again, and t'skrang and human alike huddled deeper into whatever garments they were wearing.

  "Halt!" called the leader of the ork guards, his formidable tusks jutting towards the interlopers. The group from Borzim, wet, miserable, but resolute, duly halted.

  "What do you want?" called out T'shifa.

  A black-clad figure said "Lord Tesek left instructions concerning his successor. He told us that he had settled on a young man recently arrived in this town, who had been serving as an envoy in negotiations between himself and the t'skrang—negotiations which, so Lord Tesek's testament tells us, have been going unexpectedly well."

  "Did he Name this young man?"

  "One Kendik Dezelek. Is he among you?"

  "He is," said Vulumensthetika. "Duke Kendik, step forward."

  It took an effort of will, and a whispered word of encouragement from Anarya, for Kendik to step out from the protection of his fellows. He felt ridiculously young, inexperienced, and exposed.

  "I know this lad!" said a female voice. One of the horse riders threw back her fur hood, and Kendik recognized Uthaia, who had shown kindness to Atlan when they had been detained in the cells beneath the guardhouse. "A young man of good character," she went on, smiling.

  Not everyone shared her point of view. The Falcons kept their expressions professionally neutral, but surely there must be those among them who remembered him as escaped prisoner or accused traitor. From the uneasy riders came resentful muttering.

  "This is a farce! You t'skrang raise up a figurehead so you can rule in his Name!" accused one of the merchants. A forest of spears pointed in his direction, and Tesek's other satraps edged away.

  "Whatever we may think of his choice, this is Lord Tesek's sworn testament," said the Falcon commander, "and we will see it carried out."

  "May I see the testament?" asked Kendik.

  After a moment's hesitation, the Falcon proffered the document. It did indeed Name him as Tesek's successor, gave a reasonably accurate—if unflattering—description of him, and said where he might be found. A memory came to him from the dreadful night of interrogation by Dinazhe. It had been not long before the Nethermancer departed. The questions had stopped, the magical investigations to which he had subjected them had finished, and Dinazhe had been writing at his cluttered desk. Sezhina strained against her bonds, fury on her face. Kendik sagged in his, trying to conserve energy for whatever might come. Dinazhe had finished writing, risen, stretched, and left the room for a few minutes with something in his hand. When he returned, he had freed Kendik with a gesture, given him the letter to deliver to Vulumensthetika, and told him to go. Kendik had refused. "I will only leave if Sezhina comes with me," he had said.

  Dinazhe had merely gestured three times. The first gesture: a dark doorway had opened in the air of the room. Another: Sezhina was free of her visible bonds, but floating helplessly in mid-air. A third: Sezhina was seized by writhing arms and whisked into the doorway. Dinazhe went after her, the doorway closed, and a detachment of guards entered the room to escort Kendik on his way.

  This was not Tesek's testament. It was Dinazhe's.

  The rulership of Borzim was a poisoned chalice. Kendik thought of refusing the cup. Perhaps, if he broke down and sobbed, soiled himself, cast insult after insult on Borzim and his citizens, they might all agree that he was not the man for the job. But that was unlikely; he knew that it suited all the groups gathered on this field, except those of Tesek's subordinates who wanted the job themselves, to have a figurehead ruler on the throne so that they could advance their own agendas unchecked. Something in him wanted the chance to prove them wrong; but, more than anything, he wanted to find Sezhina, to bring her face to face with Anarya, and to discover the truth. If Dinazhe had to be confronted in the process, then so be it.

  "I am Kendik Dezelek," he said, "and I will take up this burden."

  "Take this up as well," said Vulumensthetika. She handed him Tesek's chain of office. He scrupled to put it on; though it had been washed, he fancied he could still see drops of blood and flecks of flesh between the links. But he did as he was bidden. To his surprise, the leader of the Falcons bowed low before him, as, less flamboyantly, did the merchants, Uthaia urging them on.

  And it felt right. His two medallions—one bought from a dusty shop, the other fallen from the sky—nestled comfortably together on his chest. He could feel their weight around his neck, but it was no burden.

  "My first act as ruler of Borzim," Kendik said, "is to declare an amnesty for the following persons, who are henceforth free to come and go in Borzim and its environs as they wish." He Named Sezhina, Anarya, Atlan, Qualia, and Viknis. Though his lips were pursed, the Falcon commander nodded.

  "Let us,"—he was beginning to enjoy this, Kendik noted to himself, beginning to savor the language—"return to Borzim."

  It was a slow procession, for his friends all returned with him, and none of them had horses. Before they left, Vulumensthetika put a companionable arm around him. "Tomorrow, with your leave, we shall come to the town and begin to negotiate our agreement in detail. As a token of good faith, I am reducing the size of my army today." She pointed towards an ork detachment that was already striking its tents.

  "It helps the treasury as well," noted T'shifa. "Let us meet as friends from now on." Kendik, taking this as some sort of apology, nodded and even managed a smile. This was one t'skrang he could never trust, yet he valued her skewed perspective on the world.

  It was a slow procession, but in time they reached the West Gate. It was opened. They entered within. There was no crowd to greet him, for the citizens of Borzim knew little of what had transpired outside their gates. Save for a few furtive glances, they made their way unmolested and unremarked towards the palace.

  Chapter 20

  Kendik slept poorly and woke early. He stared up at a ceiling barely visible in the pre-dawn light. For a moment, he thought that he was back in the family home. He must get up and be about his chores—

  Then he remembered, and with the memory, felt the warmth of Anarya's body against his. He was in Tesek's bedroom, in Tesek's bed, and last night, he and Anarya had made love there. Slow, sleepy love. He had been going to ask that some other room be made up for them, but in the end, he was just too tired, and Anarya was too deliciously present, to make it worth arguing about.

  He got up, put on his clothes and, without waking Anarya, opened the door and padded out into the corridor beyond. Almost at his feet, a long figure sat soundlessly against the wall. It was Atlan.

  "Have you been sitting there all night?" asked Kendik.

  Atlan nodded.

  "Do you have somewhere to sleep?"

  Again a nod.

  "You go there, then. I'll be all right. But thank you."

  To the left of Tesek's bedroom was the elaborately decorated room in which Kendik's short but memorable meeting with the former ruler of Borzim had occurred. He did not want to go that way, and in any case, there was a connecting door to Tesek's office from the bedroom. He turned right and began to explore his new home.

  Security at the palace was surprisingly light—a sign of how much Tesek had come to depend on the magical protection offered him by Dinazhe. Kendik had explore
d two sides of the rectangular floor before he was challenged by a tousle-haired guard who emerged from a doorway right in front of him.

  "Who might you be, then?" asked the guard, drawing his sword. "I've never seen you around here before."

  "I work here. I just moved in last night."

  "Prove it!" said the guard.

  That might not be easy. The only proof of identity he had was Lord Tesek's chain of office, and he wasn't going wear it until it had been washed at least twice more. If he was going to be arrested, he'd better demand that he be taken to the ruler of Borzim for judgment. But did anyone in this palace know who the ruler of Borzim was?

  He was still formulating his response when the guard's expression changed completely. He passed from aggression to submission in an instant, and began to back away.

  Kendik was at a loss to know what he'd done, until it emerged that he hadn't done anything. From behind him, a voice said "That will be all. Return to your post." The guard scurried off down the corridor, and Kendik turned to see the stern visage and black garb of a Falcon; not just any bird of prey, but the Falcon commander who had come to treat with the t'skrang.

  "Perhaps you should return to your quarters," the man told him. "The situation here is still somewhat ... fluid."

  "Then I shall have to take account of that," replied Kendik. "Please provide two of your guards to escort me as I continue my inspection of the palace."

  "As you wish ... milord," said the commander, withholding the "milord" just long enough to skirt the boundaries of active insult.

  Though Kendik enjoyed a fleeting feeling of satisfaction from having bested the Falcon commander, the presence of his escort put an end to his hopes of getting to know the palace, and its inhabitants, unobtrusively. In the end, frustrated and a little ashamed at seeing people shy away from him in fear, he asked the guards to escort him back to his quarters—where Atlan, contrary to his instructions, still sat guard—and dismissed them.

  Inside, Anarya slept. He removed his clothes and slipped into bed beside her. Before his body's stirrings could get themselves organized, he fell back to sleep.

  Anarya woke him. He winced at the full impact of the morning light on his tender eyelids. "A guard came in a minute ago. He was most respectful, but he said that you needed to get up. A group of t'skrang is at the gates to the palace, requesting admission."

  "Right. Oh—I wonder if I need better clothes?"

  "I think they already know what you look like."

  There was a knock at the door. "Coming!" he said. He should really get a wash. Where could he do that?

  He opened the door to find two imperturbable guards outside it, Atlan no longer at his post—presumably he had finally gone off somewhere to sleep—and a dwarf waiting for him with an attitude of barely disguised impatience. The dwarf's bald head and brown-cheeked face were offset by an especially luxuriant brown beard.

  "Ah, there you are!" said the dwarf. "My lord—may I call you that?"

  "No, you may not", said Kendik. "Call me Duke Kendik."

  "Very well, my lord duke."

  "Just 'duke'."

  The dwarf looked pained. "If you insist. My Name is Kullik. I have been told by those in a position to know that you are the new ruler of Borzim."

  "It seems so," allowed Kendik.

  "In that case, your time will not be your own. A ceaseless throng of Name-givers will press upon you, seeking your blessing, your protection, and especially, your money."

  "Do I have money?"

  "You command a sizeable treasury, though it has been depleted by the costs of withstanding the t'skrang siege. In any case, it is my task to ensure that your time is used in the best possible way."

  "Best for whom?" asked Kendik.

  "Why, for yourself, of course," said Kullik.

  "Did Lord Tesek allow you to control his every move in this way?"

  The dwarf hesitated for a moment. "Lord Tesek always valued my advice," he replied.

  "I see. And I shall value it equally. I need a room into which we can usher our t'skrang guests and make them comfortable."

  "There is, I suppose, a suitable room on the bottom floor. It is brightly carpeted and has colored hangings on the walls. I am told that t'skrang are much taken with this sort of thing."

  "Indeed they are. Tell the guards to escort them there, with all due courtesy, and make sure that they are well fed. With fish. Spiced fish. Tell them that I will be with them shortly. Before I see anyone, I must bathe. And then I have a proclamation to make."

  The dwarf brightened noticeably. "Indeed, my lord—indeed, duke! Do you require the assistance of a scribe?"

  "You could have someone standing by to take it down, yes. Is there a room for making proclamations?"

  "Does it need to be heard by the people?"

  "Not in this case. It needs to be heard by the Commander of the Falcons. He is already in the palace in preparation for the meeting with the t'skrang. Please summon him to me."

  Twenty minutes later, feeling much better for a wash and a change of clothes, Kendik was seated, albeit uneasily, behind Tesek's enormous desk. I'm going to make some changes in here, he thought, but there were more important matters to attend to first. The Commander of the Falcons stood on the other side of the desk, not quite at ease, but not quite at attention either.

  "I presume you know," said Kendik, "that I was, not long ago, an inmate of the prison beneath the central guardhouse."

  The Commander inclined his head.

  "The conditions in which prisoners are kept are unacceptable. I shall be launching an investigation into the conduct of the prison as soon as the forthcoming negotiations are over. In the meantime, you are to make it your personal responsibility to ensure that prisoners are adequately clothed and fed. Furthermore, there is to be no more torture of prisoners. Is that an order you will find difficult to enforce?"

  The Commander smiled blandly. "If my ruler commands it, no matter how inexperienced he be, then I will enforce it. But as for the food, there is little enough left to feed the citizens, now that we are relying on our stores. Shall we take food out of our citizens' mouths to feed thieves and rapists?"

  "It seems to me that the biggest thieves in Borzim live in finer surroundings than your prison, and could benefit by giving up some of their food. In any case, there will be more food soon. If all goes as planned, the t'skrang will soon release their grip on our fields. Please convey my orders to the prison, and then rejoin us for the negotiations."

  "As you command, milord," said the Commander. He bowed, and then departed. Kendik leaned back in Tesek's chair. I could get used to this, he thought. But, before he got the chance, his majordomo reappeared.

  "Our guests are wondering where you might be," said Kullik.

  "I suppose I have kept them waiting long enough," said Ken-dik. "I presume you know who should be invited to this sort of thing?"

  "The Commander, who will soon rejoin us—Devlit, as the senior Wizard—"

  "Invite them, then. And I want Anarya with me. She's spent more time with the t'skrang than I have. Atlan will want to guard me. Let him."

  "And your other companions?"

  "Free to go home, if they wish. Free to attend, if they do not."

  Qualia and Viknis did attend some of the negotiations, until they got bored, but Kendik barely noticed either their presence or their departure. As a youngster, he had pictured himself facing enemies on the field of battle; in this carpeted room, with the sun streaming in through the windows, with its walls ornately decorated, he found that he was engaged in a battle of a quite different sort, its weapons words, its order of battle unspoken, and the identity of friend and foe never entirely clear.

  The rest of the Borzim negotiators were a mixed bunch of local merchants and guard commanders. The only one Kendik knew even remotely was Uthaia, and he found himself relying on her good sense. Her acerbic comments on the participants during breaks helped to both entertain him and enhance his understandi
ng of how things were done—or had been done—in Borzim.

  For all their reputation for subtlety and subterfuge, Vulumen-sthetika and her team of negotiators—which consisted of Vulumen-sthetika, T'shifa, the skulking Illusionist Hathilt, and a bunch of tough-looking types who were presumably chosen for their ability to fight their way out of a palace rather than their negotiating skills—had a clear position, and stuck to it. They would withdraw their forces and undertake to leave Borzim and its lands alone in return for agreement on where those lands ended, how much water the farmers under Borzim's control were allowed to take from the Opthia, and how much of the forest in the hills behind Borzim could be cut down.

  "Why do the t'skrang care how many trees we cut down?" Kend-ik asked Vulumensthetika.

  He had never before heard a t'skrang sigh. "The trees control the river," said Vulumensthetika. "The more trees you cut down, the more the river will flood. Floods help neither your farmers, nor us. But you humans seem incapable of remembering this for yourselves. Therefore, we require agreement on this matter."

  This provoked howls of outrage from those merchants who profited from the sale of wood. Indeed, to Kendik's surprise, the boundary was the easiest issue to decide. Nobody was about to draw a line on the plains with a stick, but it was agreed that the plains villages of Murt, Lunusk, and Pust would continue to owe allegiance to Borzim, and that Borzim had the right to station guards in the three villages, and along the highway between, to protect them. Twenty minutes' ride north of Pust, that right would end. Boundaries were also agreed to the east and west.

  "To the south," said Kendik, "our boundary is the mountains."

  "If we agree to that," said T'shifa, "then we agree to your control over the forests. This we cannot do."

  So they were back to the forests again. Argument on this point dragged on until the evening meal—produce from their palace's still-extensive stores for the humans, and fish in all its glory for the t'skrang, prepared by the palace's cooks under the hyper-critical supervision of T'shifa. After the meal, they talked for another hour or so, then rested. Instruments were produced, and the minstrels came to the fore. Musical ability seemed to be the birthright of the t'skrang, and both Vulumensthetika and T'shifa took a turn singing and playing. Kendik's head hurt at the very thought of playing, so he preferred to sit back and listen to Viknis—who had reappeared as soon as the music started—demonstrate his mastery of the lute and his growing prowess with the t'skrang pipes. Qualia, sitting near Kendik, smiled with joy at her son. Kendik put his arm around Anarya and let himself relax.