Empire of Avarice (17 page)

But despite Gavan’s vigilance and the close protection
he gave the prince, eyes were watching from close by, waiting and watching,
preparing to carry out the contract that had been offered – and accepted.

 The governor of Niake, Evas Extonos, welcomed the two
visitors into his office overlooking the Aester Sea. He was pleased with his
lot; the son of a local guard commander, he’d followed his father into the
military at the age of 16, the generally accepted age that boys became men and
were old enough to join the army. That had been 18 years ago, when he’d served
as an up-and-coming bright young captain of the Niake local militia. But when
he had been in his mid-twenties, things had changed. The disaster against the
Tybar had wiped away much of the military hierarchy and in the confusion that
had followed, Evas had been elevated to general in charge of Bathenia, the
entire province, and told to expect an invasion at any time.

The invasion had never come but then the empire had been
plunged into civil war. Evas, as commander of the Niake provincial army, had
been on hand to depose the rebellious governor and then put down an uprising. For
his actions the grateful emperor at the time had promoted him to governor and
so Evas had been there for the past nine years, surviving each revolt and
change of regime, simply by expressing his support for the new emperor and then
doing nothing, hoping to sit out the disruption each change had caused. His
organisational ability helped to keep Niake more or less settled until, three
years ago, when the previous emperor had seized power with help from Lodria,
Romos and Tobralus, three regions with a history of resisting certain regimes.

Evas had not supported the revolt, but neither had he
opposed it, and since Niake still had a reasonably strong militia and city
guard, the new regime had left Niake alone in return for Evas professing his
loyalty which he had done without hesitation. But the citizens of Niake had
objected and took to the streets. Evas had had to put the uprising down with a
show of force, something unusual in Niake, and it was during that time the
temples had been targeted and burned.

Now there was yet another change of emperor. Evas had
done the usual and sent a letter professing his loyalty to the Koros regime and
hoped that this would be enough for them to leave him alone and carry on with
the task of administering Niake, no matter that the new emperor was an old
friend. He may not be emperor by the year’s end, the way things were.

Since the loss of the western provinces and territory in
the east, there had been a rivalry between Niake and Turslenka as to which of
them was the empire’s second city. There was little to choose between them,
both had similar populations, both were of similar size and held similar
garrisons. What was to Niake’s advantage though was its proximity to the
capital, Kastan. Only a narrow stretch of water separated them, a journey of
about one watch’s time in length, and on a clear day they could see each other
from their respective walls.

Evas was a stocky man with dark hair cut to shoulder
length, a thin dark moustache and a strong looking lower jaw. His brown eyes
sparkled with good humour, but it was an affected mannerism designed to put
others at ease. Evas had learned to be friendly to everyone, no matter what he
thought of them.

“Welcome to Niake, gentlemen,” he greeted the High
Priest and the merchant as they were shown into his office. “Sit down, sit
down,” he motioned to two chairs that had been specially placed there that
morning. “Drinks?”

“A hot klee for me, Governor,” Demtro said, settling
comfortably into the hard chair. He smiled to himself; it was a tactic he often
used to make the visitor a little uncomfortable and therefore at a
disadvantage. Many a negotiation could work to one’s advantage that way.

“High Priest?” Evas asked solicitously, standing by the
window, his hands clutched together.

“Spring water, Governor,” Gaurel said briefly. He wanted
to be on his way as soon as possible. The brief view they’d had of the streets
of Niake had provided him with the awful truth of the state of the temples in
the city.

Evas called the order out to a servant and seated
himself, a smile on his face. “Well, this is a pleasure, I can assure you. It’s
not often such honoured guests arrive in my city.”

Demtro looked at Evas in surprise. He was merely a
merchant. The paper he’d carried and which had been handed over on his arrival
at the governor’s office had merely stated he had been granted a trading
licence by the emperor and was to be allowed to set up a textile business in
Niake. “A pleasure shared, Governor. I have returned to my home city after a
short period in Kastan.”

“One of our sons? Welcome back, merchant Demtro. I’m
sure you will be successful in your venture. I believe you are looking for
premises to start your trading from? I have the perfect place for you, close to
the Western Gate.”

Demtro bowed once. “My thanks. I shall inspect it
shortly.”

“And you, High Priest, this is a great day indeed for
Niake that you should choose to come here in person and rebuild the temples!”

Gaurel gave Evas an unfriendly stare. He hadn’t chosen
at all; it had been forced on him. “Governor. I am appalled at the state of the
temples in your city, and more than that, appalled that you should have done
nothing to repair them and to provide the people here with a place for worship
in the past three years! The shame of it reflects badly on you.”

Evas spread his hands helplessly. “Alas, High Priest, my
duties and responsibilities, and of course a lack of funding, meant I was
unable to do much. It is something I regret and has played deeply on my mind on
more than one occasion.”

Sure it did, Demtro thought sardonically. Evas didn’t
look that bothered.

“I must insist, Governor, that you set aside some
funding this year to enable me to begin the long and arduous task of rebuilding
our temples. I will not have our people being abandoned by the state in such a
callous manner again.”

“High Priest,” Evas said patiently, “funding is tight
and taxation high; many public buildings are in need of repair and I have been
tasked by the emperor to concentrate on a road repair programme before the
winter comes. Time is tight and I won’t have any spare capacity to give you
workmen or the funding until the spring comes at the earliest. I am sorry, but
my hands are tied.”

“Do you serve the gods?” Gaurel asked, pointing a long
finger at the governor.

“Of course, High Priest!”

Gaurel stood up, indignant. “You do not show it,
Governor! It seems on every side the gods are being betrayed by those who say
they serve them, yet do not. A man is not judged by what he says, but by what
he does! And you may speak of being faithful and of servitude, yet your lack of
action says otherwise. I know people like you; often they profess loyalty and
friendship but they are the first to desert you when events turn. You are a
weathervane, Governor. Faithless, feckless and directionless. You believe you
have seen bad riots in the recent past. Well, I assure you, if you do not divert
some of the funding from your pet political projects to the restoration of the
temples in Niake, then you’ll have a riot to end all riots! I shall have you
burned to the ground as a heretic. Mark my words!” With that he strode out of
the room and the door crashed back behind him.

“I think you might have annoyed him there, Governor,”
Demtro observed mildly.

“What did I do?” Evas asked, dumbfounded. “I was
courteous and polite, and only told him the truth.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Governor. He’s highly strung
at the moment. Perhaps a little white lie might have been in order there, you
know, act like a Counsel.”

Evas looked at Demtro with disapproval. “Merchant
Demtro, I am the governor of this city, not a counsel. There are plenty of
those enough without me becoming one.”

“Don’t worry, Governor,” Demtro said getting up. “I’ll
go talk to him and calm him down. He’s just a little upset at seeing the
blackened shells of the temples here. All things being equal perhaps a little
money might find its way into his pudgy palms, eh?”

“But aren’t you going to stay for klee?”

“Ah no, Governor, thanks all the same, but my back end
has suffered enough in that torture rack you call a chair. I don’t want to do
it irreparable damage. Thanks for the hospitality.” The merchant left the room
in a more civilised manner, leaving Evas alone with his thoughts, not all of
them happy ones.

Amne was perspiring with tension, even though it was
fast approaching winter. She had been prepped the day before with her travel
arrangements and told to dress for cold weather, and to sleep during the
afternoon. She had been awoken in the dead of night and told to dress by her
mother. The atmosphere could have been cut by a sword in the palace, and Amne
had dutifully dressed and made her way downstairs to the rear of the palace,
led there by two of the palace guard, armed to the teeth.

The silence of the walk added to her nervousness. In the
rear entrance, beneath the great stone arch that led to the stables, a carriage
waited with four black chargers. There were no bells or loose buckles, and all
the harnesses and tack were dark. The carriage was either black or a dark blue;
Amne couldn’t tell. Inside the carriage Theros and two junior diplomats were
already seated, waiting for her. On top sat a driver and another man dressed in
a dark cloak wrapped about himself so that only his eyes showed. All very
sinister.

Her father was there, solemn-faced, as was her mother. She
had been weeping, it was clear. Astiras came forward and held her for a moment,
squeezing her shoulders. “Take care, Amne,” he said softly and kissed her on
the forehead, then stepped back and allowed Isbel to embrace her. “You go
careful,” Isbel said, a catch in her voice. “You’ve got Lalaas up there to look
after you – he’s a good soldier,” she added.

Amne smiled wanly. She had never met Lalaas, the cloaked
man, but if her parents vouched for him, then that was fine. She was helped
aboard and seated herself. Looking out of the window she caught a last sight of
her parents holding one another, before the carriage jerked into motion and the
curtains on the inside of the carriage were allowed to close by Theros. “Nobody
should see who is in here,” he explained.

She heard the wooden doors of the archway open and
suddenly the charger’s hoofs were striking cobbles and they were out in the
streets of Kastan, rumbling to the Turslenka Gate. Guards on duty there
unlocked the gates and allowed the carriage out, then closed them behind again
and the carriage was out in the dark of the Frasian countryside.

“We made it,” she said unnecessarily to Theros.

“Indeed,” the diplomat agreed and looked at the two
younger men with them. One was squat and round and overweight while the other
very thin, had receding hair and a sharp pointed nose. Not there to invoke any
desire, clearly.

It wasn’t long before they came to a halt, the carriage
turning round and facing back towards Kastan. Amne looked in confusion at
Theros. “Why have we turned round and stopped?”

“We’ll have to ask Lalaas,” Theros replied, opening the
curtain a crack and peering into the darkness. They all heard heavy booted feet
striking the ground hard and the door was jerked open.

The cloaked man appeared, still only his eyes visible. “You
all have to get out, your majesty,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.

Amne stared at the apparition before her, then
reluctantly clambered out, helped by the mysterious man. Theros and the two
others got out by themselves. As she stood beside him, Amne found Lalaas to be
very tall and built to match. “Your majesty, we are to ride on charger-back for
the next stage of the journey. The animals are waiting for us down here,” he
indicated a group of people standing at the bottom of the roadside slope, on
lower ground, standing by ten equines.

“Why ten?” Amne asked, allowing the guard to assist her
in making the short but slippery route down to the waiting beasts.

“Five for us, five pack beasts. The luggage is being
unloaded as we speak, ma’am.” Lalaas’ voice was deep and masculine and Amne was
intrigued. She wanted to see what the rest of him looked like. But with only
flickering torches in the dead of night to see with, it would have to wait
until morning for that.

Amne was directed to a slightly smaller beast and was
helped up onto it. She settled comfortably, having ridden on many previous
occasions, a privilege for the nobility of the empire. There was a short wait
until the silent group of helpers transferred the packs from the carriage to
the beasts, then all were mounted up and the handlers released them. Lalaas led
the group out of the gully and away from the road. On his saddle behind him he
had a small light set in a glass bowl placed to lead the others on, but the
night was so dark it made for slow going nonetheless.

The land was reasonably flat but grass grew in clumps
and the chargers stepped warily around these as they were invariably slippery
from recent rains. The four following Lalaas rode in silence, their
concentration reserved for keeping on their mounts. No other light was
permitted other than the one behind Lalaas, and it was a nerve-wracking ride
that seemed to last forever.

After perhaps the length of a watch, Lalaas arrived at
the edge of a watercourse and dismounted. He led his beast around and came up
to Amne who had stopped. “Ma’am, we should rest here for the remainder of the
night. We are now sufficiently far from the road not to be seen when the day
breaks.”