After a few minutes, Sandun asked, “What do you think will happen now?”
“They have to let us go. Soon, I should think. They will apologize profusely and give us gifts to make up for their rude and thoughtless behavior. We may become quite wealthy out of this unfortunate entanglement. Perhaps they will give you one of the royal flowers, I hear the Radiant Prince has more than enough. Then you can have a real Serice wife.”
“I have a wife,” Sandun replied.
“A diplomatic marriage. It has been noticed that you and the Shila woman seem to have little affection for one another.”
Sandun sputtered, “That’s…not true. By Saint Pellar, do you people know everything?”
Renieth looked at Sandun with an expression that could only be described as one of arrogant superiority.
“It is our job to know everything, yes. That is how one gets to be an official in the government. It’s not by looks or personal connections; it’s by having a trained mind through years of constant study. The marriage between you and the Lady Miri was a brilliant piece of diplomatic maneuvering. I wish I could take credit for the idea, but it was, in fact, Lord Vaina’s inspiration. Tell me, is it true the kings of the Archipelago have only one wife?”
“Yes. Quite true.”
“This is amazing to me,” Renieth said, as though he were talking about the mating habits of horses. “Are they not men? Do they not have hundreds of the prettiest young women throwing themselves at the king, year after year? To turn down ceaseless offers from beautiful and accommodating women demands an iron will. You expect much from your kings.”
“Well, to be honest, the kings of Kelten and the other nations do have women on the side. But they don’t marry them, and children that may result from such affairs cannot inherit the throne.”
“Ah!” Renieth exclaimed with pleasure. “I knew it! Thank you. This has been a subject of debate for centuries. Opinions were divided on this matter, I can assure you. When we get out of here, I must add a note to our book on the customs of the Archipelago.”
“Do you have two wives, Renieth?”
“Not yet, though most of the older ministers do. As soon as I was accepted into Lord Vaina’s government, I sent word to my parents. They found me a young woman from an appropriate family, and we were married two months later. I have a son, and my wife is expecting another child in six months. Often a second wife is brought into the household when the first wife stops bringing forth children. What about you? Do you have children in Kelten?”
“No, I’ve never been married before.”
“Oh, your parents must have been very disappointed.”
“My parents are both dead,” Sandun replied, and there was a twinge of pain as he thought about Ashala, who was now also buried. He pushed her memory aside, as he had been doing for more than a month. “I know they were hoping I would marry, but at least my sister had children.”
“Surely, that would not matter, as your sister’s children would be part of her husband’s family, not yours.”
“It’s not like that in Kelten. A woman marries, and she takes her husband’s name, yes, but she never leaves her family. The bonds of kinship are not broken by marriage. Her children are part of the Eigers just as much as they are part of the Browns, her husband’s family.”
“Truly? There is much we do not understand about Kelten customs. Our records are fragmentary and hundreds of years out of date. When the long war ends and when Lord Vaina finally become king, I hope we will sit down together and get these matters set out, in writing.”
“Well, we have to get out of here first,” Sandun said with a faint smile. “Before the city burns down around us. What sort of room do you think this is?”
“You ask a good question, Lord Sandun. I thought they would have released us by now. Perhaps we must seek a means of escape on our own.” Renieth got up and began a thorough exploration of the room. “The door seems unusually solid. This is not a mere storage room for documents or weapons.”
Sandun got on his hands and knees and looked carefully at the joints in the corners.
“You are right,” Sandun said. “The walls are made from hard wood and fitted very closely. When I press my ear to the wall, I hear nothing. And the way the door is hinged is quite unusual; it is designed to open out, yet the metalwork looks like it is inside the door and the wall. As though this were a secret room.”
“Here is a clue: a piece of paper.” Renieth held it up to the oil lamp. “Not much writing on it that I can read.” Renieth examined the paper closely by the oil lamp light, and his face fell. “This is almost certainly a salt note, though not one of ours. Unwelcome news for us. If this room was used to store money, it will have been built with care and with thick walls, reinforced with sheets of metal.”
“You think this is an empty treasury room?”
“I do, yes,” Renieth replied with resignation. “If the Kitran capture this palace before it burns down, it seems they will find no treasure here, but this room was used for storing money. No doubt another such room is located in a different part of the palace. By long tradition, a palace has two treasury rooms to avoid a single disaster from bankrupting the government.”
Sandun put his mouth to the narrow slot in the door and called out, “Hello? Anyone? Let us out! I demand to be released!”
There was no response. He listened and heard no coherent sounds, just faint rumblings.
“Locked in an empty treasure room with no means of escape. Not much air. And outside, the city of Kemeklos is in flames. A grim situation.” Sandun tried to set aside his worries, and an idea occurred to him.
“We can tell each other jokes to pass the time. Here is a classic from Kelten. In my country, the merchants of Seopolis, the capital, are known for their sharp bargaining, and the folk of Opomos are known for thinking themselves cleverer than they are, but this story suggests the stereotypes are untrue. A fletcher from Opomos was at the capital on business and found he needed a horse. A dealer in mounts had a fast filly for sale, but at a price of fifteen crowns, three times the cost of a common steed. That’s more than I have with me right now, says the fletcher. I can pay you ten crowns this hour, and I will be in debt to you for the rest. The merchant agrees, thinking he will make a substantial profit on the deal. Off goes the fletcher on his filly. A week later, he returns to Seopolis and by chance horse dealer finds him. Where is the five crowns you yet owe me for the filly? the man says to him. Why, friend, replies the fletcher, we must both keep to our agreement; it was agreed I would be your debtor, but I would be so no longer if I paid you.” Sandun was unsure the joke worked as he translated it to Serice, but Renieth smiled and said it was good.
“Here is one for you.” Renieth sat on the bed and smoothed out his robe with both hands. “Also about a man who is not as clever as he thinks he is. Once a thief had stolen a bag full of silver cats from a powerful official in Naduva. The official commanded his guards to search far and wide for the thief and sent runners to all neighboring districts to be on the lookout for the miscreant. The thief was still miles from Somjarvi when he overheard news that the gate wardens were searching every visitor for a bag of silver cats. Knowing he had no explanation for his ill-gotten silver, the thief resolved to bury it beside the road. But how could he both mark the location of his treasure and convince idle folk that happened by not to dig up what was under his marker? The thief thought to put a placard over his buried bag, one that would convince everyone to leave it alone. He considered all manner of worthless objects whose name he could place on the sign, but he rejected them, one after another because for every item, he then thought of a use. No matter what he wrote, at least one traveler would dig up what was supposedly buried. A bone, for example, someone with a dog might uncover it. A needle? Someone who needed to mend a torn cloak would dig for it. Finally, he hit upon an inspired solution. He wrote: Three hundred cats o
f silver are not buried here.”
Sandun laughed. But he recognized the story was funny if you knew that almost everyone could read. In Kelten, the response would be, Show me first a thief who can write.
Sandun recounted another joke. “Once there was a wise man who came down with painful boils. The doctors prescribed many baths with pure water or seawater or oils of various kinds, but nothing helped. With all remedies exhausted, he sent for a priest from the temple who explained to the sick man that Sho’Ash tested those that he loved, toughening the ones he loved best with hardships so that their faith might shine all the brighter. The man with the boils groaned and said, ‘It is no wonder that there are so few that truly love Sho’Ash. If this is the way he treats his friends, I’m surprised he has any friends left at all.’”
Renieth smiled tightly.
“We tell many stories about the priests of Eston, but most are too long for us tonight. Perhaps the shortest tale is this: There once was a clever boy who was being educated by his family tutor. One day, he was learning the fundamental precepts of the religion of Eston. At the end of the lesson, the boy said, ‘The desire for all things of the earth is bad?’ ‘Yes,’ said the tutor, ‘the things of the earth are nothing but an illusion that cloaks reality and prevent final understanding.’ ‘Then why,’ said the boy, ‘are all the priests of Eston fat, yet they desire food not, while all the farmers are thin, yet they dearly love food for they spend their whole life attempting to gain it?’”
Sandun shook his head. “I do not understand the religion of Eston.”
“Neither do I,” said Renieth. “Though I know many people who follow it with all sincerity. If I may ask a question?”
“It seems I’m not going anywhere. Ask.”
“Our maps have no definite location for the city of Esolas. One map places it on Melnehlan, another on Ikaria, a third on an island in the middle of the sea.”
“I’m surprised you have heard of Esolas, though it is famous in Kelten as one of the foremost cities of the Archipelago. I admit that I have never sailed there. To answer your question, it is built on small islands not far off the coast of Ikaria. The second of the three maps you mentioned had the right of it. Speaking of maps, I had the pleasure of examining a spectacular book of maps, which Master Donath showed me at the Great Sage Temple. It was a book half as big as a man, made during the early years of the Water Kingdom, drawn with remarkable detail: cities and their major streets, farmlands, rivers. I was in awe. Our maps of Kelten are not so detailed.”
“Ah, I envy you,” exclaimed Renieth. “The great map of the Water Kingdom is famous, though I have never seen it. The library of the Great Sage Temple is a place of dreams. One day, years from now, after the fighting is over and the kingdom is at peace, that library may move to Tokolas and take up residence in a new building near the palace. If I had my wish, I would be the curator of that library before I retired from service. This is a fond hope of mine, though maybe this is a position my son is more likely to achieve than I. After all, the scholars at the Great Sage Temple have cared for the library for nearly three hundred years. How could I presume to supervise something about which I know so little?”
The discussion between the two men was interrupted by the sound of the lock on the door being opened with a key. The door smoothly opened on silent hinges. Several of the elite guards were standing there with food and water and a bucket. Even the prisoners’ oil lamp was refilled.
Renieth spoke to them eloquently, using flowery, diplomatic language.
“You must let us out. We are emissaries from Governor Vaina of Kunhalvar, a friend of the Red Prophet, protector of the Shrine of the Mavana in Tokolas. We fought Nilin’s army, we rode, sailed, and marched night and day to reach Kemeklos. We came here in friendship, and you lock us up like criminals. Is this just? I ask you: Is this wise? We bear you no ill will, but you must release us.”
The guard with the most elaborate red silk knot around his neck nodded as Renieth spoke but then waved his hands in negation.
“It is not for me to release you, though I think what you say is true, so far as it goes. Chaos stalks the city this night. Some say that the defenses have failed and the enemy is inside the city walls, while others say the walls are still held. Fire burns unchecked in ever more districts. You are lucky that the smoke has not made its way to this room, as upstairs, it chokes. Fighting is reported at the south water gate, which must be your governor’s army. But there are very few of us, and the runners sent out have, in the main, failed to return. The spiritual advisors talk and talk, and their worry cannot be concealed. I hope that…this will be resolved soon. Fire Sword, your sword is safe here, beside the door.” The guard talking to them pointed to a spot out of sight. “Forgive us,” he said as he closed the door and locked it again.
“Hurin’s spit!” Sandun said in disgust. “What is going on?”
“As the old expression goes: They are faced with ink on the page and stones from heaven. I do not envy their options but…how do you say it? They must cut the tangled knot. There is no other way.”
Sandun knew exactly what Renieth was talking about. “You have heard of the Great Commander?”
“Naturally. His fame has spread around the world. Kandar the Undefeated, that is what he is called in Serica. He created the Pellian Empire, which traded with Serica in days long past. I believe he is worshiped at several Kulkasen temples alongside some of our own warriors from antiquity.”
“Someday I must take up Frostel’s offer and visit his temple,” Sandun replied. “I’ll make an offering to Kandar the Undefeated if he can get us out of this locked box.”
The conversation died away, and Sandun sat wrapped in his own thoughts. The flame from the oil lamp flickered and cast a yellow light on the walls. As he felt sleep gathering behind his eyes, Sandun realized one source of his anger: namely, that the Radiant Prince and his advisors were right about the intentions of Lord Vaina. Sasuvi was being taken over, and when the Red Crane Army marched away from Kemeklos, it was not coming back, not for years. Not until after Vasvar and Dombovar had been conquered. If this truly was the holy city of the Red Swords, why should they abandon it? Renieth’s plan—or was it Lord Vaina’s?—made perfect sense, but only if the Red Swords were wrong. And the Red Swords were wrong, weren’t they? No ancient goddess was going to come down from heaven and save them.
“We weren’t very honest in our speeches to the council, were we?” Sandun said slowly.
Renieth looked up at him and then away. “My thoughts have tended in the same direction. This one was, perhaps, the wrong man to deliver a message of reassurance to the Radiant Prince. But then, diplomacy is not about telling the truth. As the wise minister Tors Sakay wrote, ‘All relations between states are based on the seeking after advantage; there are no fixed friendships, only temporary alliances dictated by circumstances.’ Yes, we came here because we deemed that doing so served us best. They know this, just as they seek to use us for their own purposes. But the weak must yield to the strong, and despite their walls, they are weak. They may think to use us two as bargaining chips against Lord Vaina, but I believe they have traded an elephant for a spearman, and they have not gained by the exchange.”
After an hour, they smelled smoke and then heard the sound of clashing steel from outside the room. The two men looked at each other in dismay. Who was fighting inside the palace of the Radiant Prince?
The Keltens and their friends were sitting around a fire and eating several fish that Frostel had been given by friends from within the ranks of the Red Swords. Sir Ako asked Frostel how well he knew the Red Swords.
“I have fought beside them several times,” Frostel replied. “When there are Kitran to be fought, I have joined for a day or three. They do not think I am foolish in worshiping Lord Mairen and Temo Tio; I in turn do not think they are wrong to worship the Mavana. There is room enough in men’s hearts for m
any gods.”
Another Red Sword, escorted by a guard, came up and whispered in Frostel’s ear.
“Excellent! I shall go and tell the war leader at once,” Frostel said to the man.
The Red Sword nodded and sat down in front of the fire. “I’ll wait here,” he said.
“What’s going on?” Sir Ako asked Frostel.
“The Red Swords have gathered all their strength outside the walls and are asking permission to attack the water gate this night,” Frostel said. “If the offer is accepted, I will lead them.”
“If you are going to attack the enemy defending the gate this night, I must insist on coming with you,” Basil told him.
“I also will not let you fight them alone. My sword is ready,” said Sir Ako. The rest of the Keltens nodded in agreement.
“To the war leader, then. I shall stake my claim to glory for us all.” Frostel walked away from their camp to the the command tent.
“How many men do you have ready?” Sir Ako asked the Red Sword messenger. The man accepted a wineskin and drank some before answering.
“Nearly five hundred men, sworn to drive the evil one’s army away from the Holy City. Signals have been exchanged with our brothers on the walls, and we shall have help from them though it may be that only a few hundred can join us in the attack. But, as they will be attacking from the enemy’s rear, their strength will be magnified.”
“And how many enemies are blocking our way?”
“More than two thousand, but their livers are green with fear. We shall not fail this night. With the undefeated army of Kunhalvar at our back, the Holy City and the Radiant Prince shall be saved!”
The Fire Sword Page 42