Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (134 page)

The central square of Calvados was large, which was handy because the legion was quartered in the buildings surrounding it on three sides. The fourth side was full of rubble and appeared to be the site of a building project of some kind.

“Our future home that is, my lord sorcerer.”

“Oh?”

“Yup! Captain Turner said he’s building us a fortress to rival the Devans.”

Before Demophon could laugh, the others did it for him.

“Well he did say it!” Lewin said indignantly.

Davin snorted. “If the captain said you could fly off that bell tower you would believe it!”

“No I wouldn’t!”

Demophon laughed and shook his head. Perhaps he had missed something by not being a legion mage.

Yes, like drowning in the North Sea for one thing!

Hmmm, there was that to consider wasn’t there? “Where will I find Navarien, Sergeant?”

“I’ll escort you to the General, my lord sorcerer,” Sergeant Davin said, and turned to his men. “You lot can put the horses away, and make sure you rub them down proper. You know how Corbin loves them.”

“—be humping them next!”

“What do you mean
next?
”

“Ha! Bet you wouldn’t say that where he could hear you—”

Demophon smiled at the crude jests that arose about Corbin and his bad habits where horses were concerned. This Corbin sounded like a good man. You could usually tell if someone was liked by the kind of jests told about him. Spiteful and he was not liked, playful as these were, then he was. Davin led the way toward a large hostel or inn. They entered and Demophon found the lower floor had been converted from its previous function of common room, to its new one of map and briefing room.

“If you’ll wait here, my lord sorcerer, I’ll get the General. He’ll already be up and worrying I shouldn’t wonder.”

He nodded.

While Davin was away on his errand, Demophon removed his outer layers of clan hide to reveal his water stained robe. He dumped the hides by the door to let the stink blow away, and went to the map table. It had been made in sections for easy storage, but they were laid edge to edge and pinned to a group of tables that had been shunted together. He noted the legion’s deployments marked by tiny replicas of the battalion standards. Navarien had one battalion split up and on patrol within one day’s hard ride, and the rest of his very few men billeted here in Calvados. One battalion had been tasked with holding the wall, and the other two were meant to be building a fort by the look of it.

“Hmmm, a fort is a little redundant under the circumstances. Calvados itself is a fort now.”

“I agree, but that won’t always be so.”

Demophon turned and smiled. Navarien didn’t return the gesture; instead, he studied his guest’s appearance and filed it away. Demophon absently wondered under what heading. The general looked ill, or maybe just tired. He was clean shaven on his cheeks with a light beard and moustache around his mouth, but it did little to disguise his gauntness. His eyes were clear and burned into whatever they gazed upon.

“Pleased to meet you, General. The name is Demophon,” he said and shook the automatically extended hand.

“My lord Sorcerer—” Navarien began.

“Please, General. I’ve had a tiring trip and no sleep for days. You may dispense with the titles and pleasantries.”

Navarien became even stiffer if that was possible. “My lor—Demophon then. Have you heard anything concerning our reinforcements?”

Demophon slumped into a chair and indicated Navarien should seat himself also. “I have not been in communication with Mortain—may he live forever—for some time. I barely survived, and to be honest, talking was the last thing on my mind. As soon as I have rested and eaten, I will begin redressing my shortcomings, I assure you.”

There, that was humble enough to sink a warship, he thought. If he had laid it on any thicker, he would have burst out laughing.

“What do you propose to do while here with us, my lord sorcerer?”

“I have already promised Davin that I will see to healing the men, but I need to rest first. I’m the only sorcerer present am I not?”

“You are.”

“Then I am lead mage. As such I have new orders for you…” Demophon broke off. Navarien was shaking his head and smiling. That wasn’t good. He tried to think what was amusing the man but nothing came to his tired brain.

“I have orders to take three cities and hold each in turn by building forts. The militia has taken control of the other two now, but the task is yet unfinished here in Calvados.”

“Are you are refusing my orders then?”

Navarien stiffened and all emotion fled his face. “I have written authority given me by Godwinson himself which states that I, and I alone, command this legion.”

Demophon frowned. Would he be opening himself to recriminations from home if he countermanded these old orders?

“I see. Then we have nothing further to discuss until I have contacted Lord Mortain. I am weary; please have one of the men show me to my quarters.”

Navarien nodded and called a man from the door to escort him to a room on the third floor. Once inside, his pleasant smile disappeared as if it had never been. Why did Godwinson do it? A sorcerer overruled by a mere legionnaire… he had never heard of anything like it. It didn’t matter now, he supposed. He had no choice but to contact Mortain—may he live forever—and ask that Navarien’s old orders be rescinded in favour of new ones to give him control of the legion.

He pursed his lips in thought. Killing Navarien wouldn’t give him control… or would it? He didn’t know who the next most senior man was, but he would be unlikely to take kindly to his general being murdered. He stripped off his disgusting clothes so he might wash and sleep. Later as he drifted toward sleep he found himself wondering what Godwinson’s game was, and what part the general played in it. He would give much to know that.

* * *

Interlude I

Talitha lay back in the water and gave herself to the attentions of her girls. Bathing was still one of her favourite pleasures, but she found her attention wandering.

Talitha and Ranen, Ranen and Talitha.

It even sounded right. The ceremony to join the First Prince of Lushan to the Matriarch in marriage was complete. Never before had a ceremony been arranged so fast. The people had been delighted and afterwards they had breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The Matriarch was wed, hallelujah!

She grinned. She wondered how long it would take them to change their worry from her marriage to her lack of pregnancy. Not long she thought. Still, the people were happy and that was good, but she and Ranen were closer to ecstatic than happy, which was marvellous. They had seen each other many times over the years, usually at court, but sometimes at other functions as well. It was only over this last year they had found an attraction, and that seemed strange now she thought on it. All men were attractive to her in varying degrees, but Ranen had never caught her eye before. That is until his father made his inexcusable blunder and was forced to commit suicide. She had seen something she liked that day, and it had blossomed into love. At least she thought it had. Love was a stranger to her, one she had been uncertain existed. Jarek was the one who told her what it was like. That was how she knew she loved Ranen. She had found love to be exciting and scary at the same time—like riding a horse at full gallop toward a jump and being uncertain if she was going to make it.

Exhilarating. That’s what it was.

Talitha lay floating with her eyes closed enjoying her bath and seeing Ranen in her mind’s eye. Since their time together began, she had hardly needed a slave in the morning. It was a relief in some ways, but a slight disappointment in others. She had always enjoyed using a boy in the morning, but now she kept thinking of Ranen and found herself uninterested in any other man. She had found in him all she needed, and was thinking of giving her slaves to Jarek to sell.

She smiled as her attendants giggled and splashed each other. It was good they enjoyed their work. “Hmmm, that’s lovely Irena.”

“I’m glad mistress. Is this good too?”

She gasped, the voice was not Irena’s! She opened her eyes to look into Ranen’s and smiled. “That was sneaky; I thought you were still asleep.”

He continued his caress. “I was, but all the giggling and sighing out here woke me. I thought I had better investigate… just in case Tymek had missed an intruder.”

Talitha chuckled and splashed him as she rose to her feet. Her girls quietly withdrew as she kissed him deeply. His hands stroked her back and his flaccid penis pressed against her. She moved against him and felt him stir as his questing tongue explored.

Ranen pulled away. “I love you more than life.”

She jumped forward with a splash to hug him. “I love you more than—bath time!” she said laughing, but he was disappointed at her jest. “I love you more than life, Ranen. Before you, there was only duty. You taught me what love is.”

“I have something else to teach you,” he said with a wicked chuckle.

She looked down; his manhood was hard and pressing against her belly despite the cooling water. “I wonder what it could be,” she said tapping a finger against her lips.

“Let me show you,” he said hoisting her into his arms. He carried her dripping and shivering out of the pool and into bed, but his lesson soon warmed her up.

Candlemarks later they sat eating breakfast near the windows overlooking the palace grounds. The snow had stopped, leaving the gardens pristine in their whiteness. This time of year was special to her. The days rolled by slower than usual and the palace was quiet. Her princes and their retainers shunned the palace at this time of year. It was almost as if the rest of the country ceased to exist, all gone except the palace and her own city. She imagined time stopped for everyone outside of her palace, and only began again when spring came. It didn’t really of course. Down in the bowels of the palace, her servants were as busy as ever running things for her. Without them, Japura really would stop. Sadly, in a few short tendays the princes would descend on Pura with their problems and concerns once again.

Thoughts of those down below brought her chamberlain to mind. Jarek had professed innocence when she spoke of his illness, but she knew he was hiding it from her. Wanikiya had asked the other healers if they knew anything of his ailment, and one had come forward. Sahamia was younger than Wani, but she was still a very good healer when all was said. Jarek had a bad heart. Worse, he would likely die if he didn’t rest. The answer seemed simple—replace Jarek so he might rest, but it wasn’t that easy. He would die of boredom if she did that.

“What’s the matter my love?” Ranen said as he pushed his plate away.

Talitha had already finished hers, and was sipping a tea Wani said was good against winter gripes. Whether it was or not, she liked it. Hot lemon tea was always nice in winter.

“I was thinking about Jarek. Wani says it’s serious, and he’ll die if he keeps on as he is.”

Ranen swirled his tea around the glass absently. “I know he’s important to you, but he wouldn’t understand if you replace him.”

“I know. We need to think of something, but what?”

Ranen smiled at being included in her decisions. Matriarchs didn't often consult their consorts; they often ignored them entirely after they performed their duty of siring an heir.

“Perhaps he needs another task—something mentally challenging that he can do from his bed.”

“Hmmm, we could—” she broke off as her guard admitted the subject under discussion. Her smile of welcome froze as she saw his face. Ranen jumped up as if expecting the older man to expire on the spot, he looked that bad. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Talayan… Talayan is gone!” Jarek’s face was grey. He had never looked older to her than he did right now.

“Sit down before you fall!” she commanded, and without complaint, he did.

His meekness was not like him. He was favouring his left arm again. It seemed weak and she could see his hands were trembling. Her eyes stung at this new evidence of his decline. She waved Tymek to her.

“Send for Wanikiya.”

Tymek sent one of his men off on the errand then stood back to watch. Talitha meanwhile was sitting next to Jarek listening with growing horror to his news. Ranen was silent and grim; he knew this meant war on a scale not seen for two hundred years or more.

“The city is burned, utterly destroyed. Refugees are streaming into nearby towns, hysterical for the most part. They say an army of a hundred thousand Tanjuners attacked in the night and defeated our lancers. The slaves were helping them. The city fell and the population was systematically abused and murdered. Barely twenty thousand survived the sack. That’s twenty thousand from a possible eighty thousand, discounting the slaves. The Tanjuners looted the city and put it to the torch. Nothing remains but blackened and cracked walls where Talayan the Invincible once stood.”

“Now we know what Vexin is made of,” Talitha whispered remembering the conversation they’d had and her decision to raid Tanjung. When one of his lords raided two of her coastal cities, she had considered using diplomacy to make him desist, but history clearly showed that Tanjung never ceased raiding unless greater force in the form of counter-raiding was applied. In short, Tanjuners respected only force.

Mighty Talayan, Talayan the Invincible was gone. It was the greatest disaster ever to befall Japura in all her long history. Pirate raids and other attacks over the years were as nothing compared to this—even collectively, they were as nothing! Talayan was—
had been
—her greatest city. Only Orrisa in the west came close. Even her capital, Pura, didn’t match what Talayan boasted in population and wealth. Sixty thousand of her people were dead… the slaves were nothing, but sixty thousand dead Japuran citizens… it was war. No question of raiding or talking would be countenanced this time, even if she wanted to she couldn’t do other than attack. The people obeyed her absolutely, and so did the princes, but Vexin was not under her authority. What would be his next move? Destroying Talayan had lain open her entire northern border. It had to be the first move toward invasion.