“So I showed her tricks. I showed her how to manipulate what I call ‘stuff,’ and when she had learned all I could teach her, she left me.”
“And found me,” said Macros. He glanced at Miranda. “I met your mother in Kesh, and she was as Nakor described, a beautiful young woman who pursued me with ardor. I ignored her hunger for power. I was blinded by youthful romance. Despite my age and ability, I acted young and foolish. I discovered her deceit later, after you were born, Miranda, but before she could learn all I could teach—she was centuries removed from that possibility, though she didn’t know it—and I refused to show her more.”
Miranda said, “So you took me from her and left me with strangers. I was ten yeas old!”
“No,” said Macros. “I accepted you when she left us both, and found you good people to raise you. I know I only visited you briefly, from time to time, but . . . it was difficult.”
Pug said, “And was this when you became the ‘Black Sorcerer’?”
“Yes,” said Macros. “Dealing with humanity at that level was too painful, and I didn’t know it at the time, but Sarig had uses for me. The gods move in ways we cannot understand, so much of what drove me was compulsion or desire, and clear goals were seldom mine. I found that island, abandoned by those who lived there, the people who had built that lovely villa. I assume they were a family of Keshians, probably nobles from Queg, who fled there when the secession occurred. And I built the black castle, to scare away travelers, and life became much as it was when you first came to the isle, Pug. What was that, fifty, sixty years ago?”
Pug nodded. “Sometimes it seems like yesterday when Kulgan and I stood on the beach reading your message.” Pug studied the sorcerer’s face. “But so much of what you’ve done, so much of what you’ve told me, it’s all been lies and deceit.”
“Yes, but much of it was truth, as well. I could sense my future, even see it clearly at times. That was never a lie. My life was shown to me in idle thoughts, random dreams, and visions that would come unexpectedly. Were he still living in full, Sarig could have given me more, but were he still alive as we think of such things, he wouldn’t need me.”
“So when you told me that I was to take your place,” said Pug, “you really thought you were done here?”
“Yes,” said Macros. “That bit of story telling I gave you, about kings to advise and wars to stop, was just that, something to divert your interest from me, to let me find my own way without your coming to find me when you needed some advice!”
Pug saw Macros’s anger growing again. “If you were to have become one with Sarig, I would not have been allowed to draw you back, Macros. He wouldn’t have permitted it.”
The anger lessened but didn’t entirely vanish. Pug could see it smoldering below the surface, like a banked fire.
“There is that,” Macros admitted. “The problem is that I know how much I’ve forgotten.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “I . . . can’t explain.”
Nakor’s gaze narrowed. “But was it you?”
“What do you mean?” asked Macros.
“Were you the one who knew, or was it this God of Magic?”
Macros said softly, “I don’t know.”
Pug said, “What do you mean?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Nakor said to Macros, “but as you became more godlike, didn’t your sense of ‘self’ lessen? Didn’t you feel more detached from who you were?”
Macros nodded. “That is true. My life became a dream, a dim memory.”
“I suspect that had you achieved godhood, you’d not have known it, for you, the mind we call Macros, would have ceased to exist,” observed Nakor.
Macros considered this. “I will have to ponder that.”
Miranda said, “What about the Queen? Why isn’t she my mother?”
Nakor shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she made the wrong deal with the Pantathians. When she was Lady Clovis, she was hungering after eternal youth, and she was practicing some very nasty necromancy. Bad things to do, and she really was in over her head. That was twenty yeas ago, so who knows what has happened since then. She may have been punished for her failing in the plot with the Overlord of the City of the Serpent River and his magician, or it may be simply expedient for whatever has taken her over to use her this way. I don’t know. But I do know that the woman who was once wed to both of us is probably dead.”
Pug turned to Miranda. “If it’s time for making a clean breast of things, why don’t you tell us your part in this?”
Miranda said, “When I began to manifest powers, I hid that fact from my foster parents. They tried to get me interested in marrying one of the local merchants, so I ran away.” She glared at Macros. “That was two hundred fifty years ago, if you’d bothered to come investigate!”
Macros could only say, “I’m sorry.”
“I found a magician, an old woman named Gert.” She smiled as she said, “When I need to, I can look like her, and given some men’s response to a pretty face and a round bosom, it’s a good thing to know.”
“That’s a very good trick,” agreed Nakor.
“She was hideous to look at, but she had the soul of a Saint of Sung, and she took me in. She quickly recognized my abilities and taught me what she knew. After she died, I began seeking out others who could teach.
“About fifty years ago, I was arrested by the Keshian Secret Police. A fox of a man named Raouf Manif Hazara-Khan saw in me a great weapon, so he recruited me.”
“Hazara-Khan is a well-known name in Krondor,” said Pug. “Wasn’t he the brother of Kesh’s ambassador to Krondor?”
“The same. His brother had reported some very strange things about the battle of Sethanon, not the least of which was the appearance of dragon riders in the sky, a gigantic explosion of green fire, and the utter destruction of one of the Kingdom’s more modest cities.
“So they set me to the task of discovering exactly what was going on.”
“And?” said Pug.
“And I deserted.”
Nakor positively cackled with glee. “That’s wonderful!”
“When I began discovering the truth, I realized we were involved with much more important things than serving one nation or another.”
“That’s certain,” said Pug. “We’ve got some interesting problems to confront, and some choices to make.”
“Most important,” said Nakor, “we have to discover who is behind all these things that are going on.”
“The third player,” said Miranda.
Macros said, “I know who it is.”
“The Demon King,” said Miranda.
“No,” said Pug. Looking at Macros, he said, “If it’s as I think it is, the situation is such that we may not even discuss it safely.”
“Certainly not here,” agreed Macros. “And we could use an expert on certain lore from the Order of Ishap.”
“Which means we need to go to Sarth,” said Pug.
Macros yawned. “Very well, but I could use a nap first.”
Nakor got up. “I’ll take you to my apartment. It has extra bedrooms in it.”
Pug stood as well. “Don’t let him keep you up all night,” he said to Macros, and he and Nakor left.
Pug turned to Miranda. “Well, it seems we’re finally getting to the heat of things.”
Miranda said, “Maybe. My father is a self-confessed liar, remember?”
“And you?”
“I’ve never lied to you,” she said defensively.
“But you’ve hidden things from me.”
“What about you?” she said, her tone accusatory. “You still haven’t told me why you don’t just fly across the water and sink the Queen’s fleet. I saw what you did. I couldn’t believe the power you control.”
Pug said, “I can explain that, but not until we’re someplace safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“I can’t explain that until then, either.” Miranda shook her head. “You irritate me at times, Pug.�
� Pug laughed. “I expect I do. You’re not exactly without edges yourself.”
She stood up and crossed to stand before him. Putting her arms around him, she said, “One truth: I love you.”
He said, “I love you, too. . . . And I never thought I’d hear myself say that to another woman after Katala died.”
“Well, it’s about time,” she said.
Pug hesitated. “What about Calis?”
“I love him, as well.” When she felt Pug tense, she said, “But in a different way. He’s a friend and very special to me. And he needs a great deal and asks for so very little. If we live through this, I think I can help him find happiness.”
Pug said, “Does that mean you’re choosing him?”
Miranda drew back slightly so she could look Pug in the eyes. “No, stupid. It means I think I know a few things about him and what he truly needs.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s all live through this, first, then I’ll tell you.”
He smiled and kissed her. They lingered in their embrace, then she hugged him tight and whispered in his ear, “Maybe.”
He slapped her on the bottom and she laughed. Then he kissed her again.
9
Plots
Erik shifted his WEIGHT.
His dress uniform was uncomfortable, and his head still hurt from the blow he had taken the previous week. Now it was merely a dull throb when he turned too quickly or when he was exerting himself, which was every day.
The Novindus mercenaries who had agreed to come over to the King’s service were proving an interesting training problem for Jadow Shati and the other sergeants. With Alfred promoted to sergeant, Erik was depending on a new bully in his company, a Corporal Harper.
As Erik rubbed absently at the back of his head, Calis said, “Still hurts?”
Erik said, “Less each day, but you were right about that Saaur’s blow. Two inches more and I’d have been cut in half.”
Calis nodded as the Prince and his retinue entered the room. Patrick said, “Let’s get this meeting under way.”
Nicholas, uncle to the Prince of Krondor and Admiral in command of the Western Fleet of the Kingdom, said, “Our latest intelligence tells us they will absolutely be coming this way: a quick strike through Krondor and over the mountains to Sethanon.”
Patrick nodded. “I agree, though my father is still concerned about the possibility we’re being intentionally fed false reports and the fleet will end up sailing around the world to Salador, in an attempt to reach Sethanon from the east.”
“That was a possibility, but always very unlikely,” said Calis. “Now we know it’s not remotely probable.”
Erik studied the others at the conference, feeling far out of his depth. Sitting next to the Prince was James, Duke of Krondor, and on the Prince’s other side William, Knight-Marshal of Krondor. Owen Greylock, former Swordmaster at Darkmoor and now a Knight-Captain of the King’s army, sat next to William. Nicholas sat next to James, and Calis between Erik and Nicholas. On Owen’s other side sat a man unknown to Erik, a scribe who wrote down whatever was said in an odd script unlike anything Erik had seen before.
Calis said, “Our enemy is many things, but subtle is not one of them. They tried subtle once, when they abducted your cousin Margaret and the others from Crydee.”
Patrick snorted. “Sacking the Far Coast wasn’t exactly my idea of subtle.”
“That’s the point,” said Calis. “Had they abducted a few commoners here and there, and let their infected duplicates wander through Krondor . . .”
“Why even bother with the abductions?” asked James.
“My point exactly,” said Calis. “They do not think as we do. I doubt we will ever understand them.” He pointed to the map on the opposite wall, showing the Kingdom from Land’s End to the eastern border outside the city of Ran. “Salador and Krondor both present problems, and the route from Salador to Sethanon is easier, but getting to Salador presents many additional problems.
“It’s a longer journey, which means an additional risk of unexpected damage to stores or to ships by storm. And it’s a route far more likely to bring the Empire’s attention to bear upon the fleet.”
He stood and walked over to the map. He motioned and a servant removed it, replacing it with one in smaller scale, showing the entire world as they knew it. Waving at the bottom half of the map, where Novindus was shown, Calis said, “Currents here force anyone coming this way to move in a straight line from the eastern shore of Novindus to a point just southeast of the tip of the Triagia, then they have to move almost due north to strike the southern coast of Kesh. That right-angle route adds a month of travel time. We found that out when we used that Brijaner longship to get to Novindus last time. But crossing the Endless Sea to reach the Bitter Sea from the City of the Serpent River is a direct line by comparison.” He pointed to the long, curving coast of Kesh on the eastern side of the continent and said, “South of the Kingdom Sea, the Brijaners and other Keshian raiders trade regularly. Additionally, here”—he pointed to the area of the ocean just northeast of the range of mountains called the Girdle of Kesh—“is the heaviest concentration of the Empire’s Eastern Fleet. They are not going to sit idly by and watch six hundred hostile ships float past, even if they know the Kingdom is their ultimate target.” He shook his head. “Plus the invasion fleet would have to sail past Roldem and the other Eastern kingdoms who might harry them in their passing.
“No, they will come this way. The mercenaries we’ve captured all tell of similar assignments: to capture and hold vital points along the mountains, so they can allow additional forces to pass over the ridge unopposed.”
William turned to Admiral Nicholas. “Nicky, we’ve talked about the risk of the Straits of Darkness passage. . . .”
Nicholas said, “It’s not that risky if you know what you’re doing, even in late fall. Amos Trask and my father once sailed it in the dead of winter.” He considered. “But for this fleet to clear the straits and reach Krondor, they would be best to come through no earlier than late spring or early summer. Midsummer is perfect. The weather’s the best, the tides the most forgiving. . . .” He paused and looked into space.
“What?” said Prince Patrick after a minute.
“I still urge you to let me sail against them before they enter the Bitter Sea.”
Patrick sighed and looked at James. The Duke of Krondor said, “Nicky, we’ve been over this territory before.”
“I know,” said Nicholas. “And I know it’s risky, but think of the benefits!” He rose, came to stand next to Calis, and motioned to the servant. “Give me the larger map.”
At once the scribe stood, removed the map of the world from the wall and rapidly hung another of the same size, but of much lager scale, showing the Western Kingdom and major portions of Kesh and the north, from the Far Coast to Malac’s Cross. Pointing to the Straits of Darkness, Nicholas said, “They’re bringing six hundred or more ships. They can’t have six hundred captains and crews worth spit.” He slapped his hand against the wall for emphasis. “If we bring the fleet down out of the Sunset Islands or closer in, say, Tulan”—his finger stabbed at the southernmost city on the Far Coast—“we can catch them as they begin to come through the straits. I can put thirty warships of size at their rear and another two or three dozen fast cutters. We sail in, slash them from behind, and sink as many of the wallowing barges they’re carrying their troops in as possible; then when their escort ships turn to fight, we sail off. I don’t care how good their escort ships or captains are, we know the winds and current better than they. We can get away!” He was the most animated Erik had ever seen him as he said, “If we’re fortunate we’ll catch them with their escorts coming through the straits before the troop ships, unable to turn and come back because of their own ships! We could sink a third, perhaps a half of their fleet!”
“Or if they split their escorts and put half of them at the rear, you could lose every ship we have in the West wi
thout doing any real damage,” said Patrick. He shook his head. “Nicky, if we had the Western Imperial Fleet with us, or if Quegan war galleys would sail from the eastern side of the straits, maybe I could see risking this.” The Prince sighed. “We are the smallest sea power in the West.”
“But we have the best ships and men!” said Nicholas.
“I know,” conceded Patrick, “but we don’t have enough of them.”
“Nor time to build them,” said William. “Pursuing this discussion further is pointless.”
“Maybe,” said James.
“What?” asked Patrick.
The old Duke smiled. “Something you just said. About Queg raiding from the east. I might be able to arrange that.”
“How?” asked the Prince.
James said, “Let me worry about that.”
Patrick said, “Very well. Let me know what you’re dreaming up, though, before you get us into another war with Queg.”
James smiled. “I’m waiting for some reports from Queg, and when I have them”—he turned to Nicky—“you can sail your fleet to Tulan. And tell Duke Harry to cut his fleet loose from the Sunset Islands and put it under your flag. That squadron of cutthroats will swell your flotilla to what, fifty ships?”
Nicholas was enthusiastic. “Sixty-five!”
James put up a hand in a restraining gesture. “Don’t get too carried away. This plot of mine may not work. I’ll let you know one way or another in a month or so.”
Turning to the others at the table, the Prince asked, “Anything else?”
“Why Krondor?” asked Greylock.
Patrick said, “Captain?”
“I mean, I agree it’s likely they’ll come into the Bitter Sea, but why attack Krondor?”
“Do you see an alternative?” asked the Prince.
“Several,” answered Greylock. “None of them obviously superior, but the two that would appeal to me most if I were the Emerald Queen’s commander would be either to land north of Krondor, keep the defenders bottled up inside the city with a small force, moving the army around the city, then into the East, over the King’s Highway, or to put ashore between Land’s End and Krondor, moving to the south of the city along the Keshian border, then north to the pass to the east. I would lose some portion of my army holding Kingdom forces inside the city, but less than in a full assault.”
Rage of a Demon King Page 18