Empire of Avarice (43 page)

She made her way back to the day room, but then she
caught sight of Pepil almost running along the corridor, his eyes wide, his
face showing shock. Isbel’s heart sank. It must be bad news, the way he was
looking. Something was wrong. She caught her breath; Astiras? Amne? Jorqel? Something
bad, she knew it. “What is it?” she called out as Pepil came close.

“Your majesty,” Pepil said breathlessly; he wasn’t used
to such exercise. “Some surprising news.”

“What is it? Is it the emperor, or the prince or
princess? Bad news?”

“No, no, ma’am, nothing like that. It’s a visitor. We
have our first embassy!”

“What?” Isbel felt stunned, then elated. At last,
recognition from abroad! “Who is it and where from?” she walked on towards the
throne room.

Pepil remained where he was. “Ma’am, perhaps a word of
advice? Best to keep them waiting, don’t see them too soon. We can house them
overnight and say we’ll see them in the morning. I’ll rearrange the council
meeting.”

“Yes, yes, of course; to see them now would not be wise.
Tell me, Pepil, who are they? Venn? Mazag?”

“No, ma’am; you won’t believe this. It’s the Tybar.”

Isbel stared at the major domo in disbelief.

The bleating of the wool beasts and the lowing of the
bovines filled the air. The soldiers watched in satisfaction as the animals
were herded into the newly built pens and sheds to the rear of the fence that
went a quarter of the way around distant Zofela. The forests for leagues around
had been cut down and turned into fencing or housing, and a large ditch had
added to the blockade. Beyond the city the river snaked, patrolled by groups of
soldiers but not nearly as efficiently as the northern side. Now the army had
taken care of the food situation by requisitioning animals from the farmsteads
in the area. Astiras had surprised them all by insisting each animal was paid
for, a change from the devastation he’d inflicted up to now, but his thinking
was that now that only Zofela and the far south of the region remained out of
his control it was time to bring the Bragalese populace into the imperial fold.

Bandits remained a problem but the messengers were
getting through and supplies were arriving from Kastan, Frasia and Makenia by
road. The roads were in an appalling state and when the rains came it would
test them to the full. Astiras was eager to get as much into the new camp as
soon as possible.

The emperor himself stood on top of the earthworks,
leaning on the fence, staring across at Zofela. The distant towers mocked him,
fluttering the rebel flags. He stared left and right, noting how far the ditch,
fence and spiked barrier currently extended. At a few places they had built
gateways but here there were guard posts and ladders so that nobody could
quickly pass through. The negotiations had broken down, as Astiras knew they
would. Elmar had expected some concession, having had his way in the recent
past with the previous emperor who was more interested in money than the
empire, but Astiras knew where his priorities lay. He had land here and wanted
it back, and Elmar was in his way. Bragal was also the proof to show others he
was a man of action, a man of strength, a man of his word. He’d said he would
crush the rebellion and take Zofela, and by the gods, that was what he would
do.

The messages he’d recently received from his wife were
encouraging; Jorqel was still besieging Slenna and it surely wouldn’t be long
before it fell. He had confidence in his son to do what was necessary. The
return of Lodria to the empire would also provide a second province to border the
Tybar and maybe make them pause to consider which they should concentrate on
first. There was no news from Amne, and this was becoming a concern for him. His
enquiries into the mystery man who had deserted his army had revealed nothing,
and his Bragal contacts back down the road could come up with no satisfactory
answer to the whereabouts of the guide.

Astiras was getting bored as well; sieges tested one’s
patience as well as the staying power of the army. He’d vainly hoped Elmar
would have surrendered when the army turned up but the Bragal rebels had shown
with the clearing of the land around the city that they were serious about
resisting every attempt to end the rebellion. To ease his boredom he’d begun to
sit down at night in his semi-permanent quarters and write letters back to
Isbel, issuing commands, declarations, asking for more information, making a
schedule for things to be done, such as building up the navy, army, fortresses,
roads, harbours, barracks, temples and so on throughout the empire.

Another thing he’d commented on to Isbel was the current
idea of mounted archers. As a veteran of both the Bragal rebellion and the war
in the west against the Tybar, he’d seen how mounted archers of both enemies
had been used. The Bragalese hadn’t been that effective, but the Tybar had
caused mayhem and standing in static lines with spearmen hoping the enemy
cavalry would conveniently run themselves onto the spear points was something
of a vain hope. If the war was to ever be taken back into Tybar territory, the
empire would have to have the means by which to defeat their western neighbour.
He was cautiously in favour of trying them out, but wondered whether the cost
would be too great, given that money would have to be expended on garrisons and
improving defensive works. He had recommended nonetheless that the empire ought
to train up some mounted archers in the capital.

He was also pleased about the failing of the Fokis plot.
He had little love for that family and had read the message with particular
delight. He wasn’t sure about Isbel’s leniency towards them in allowing them to
keep their ancestral lands; he would have sent all of them to the Turslenka
mines. So far she was doing a first rate job in keeping things going behind his
back, but he now felt he needed to get more involved in things. He’d charged
Teduskis with arranging staging posts along the road to Kastan to provide the
messenger service with refreshments and to change equines so that
communications were speeded up.

“We need to contact the Mazag,” Astiras said suddenly,
staring into space, looking to the south. “They need to be made aware that Amne
is en route to them.”

“Yes, sire. Will they send out search parties for her?”

“I’m hoping they will,” the emperor said, worry clouding
his words. “She needs every bit of help. May the gods punish me if anything has
happened to that girl.”

“Sire, you had little choice but to send her; you
yourself said we need friends and allies. How else can we hope to survive? We’re
in no shape to fight both east and west. Besides, Lalaas is a good man.”

“Yes, the best I’ve seen with a sword, but there’s only
so much one man can do. Can you get a message to the Mazag?”

“I don’t know, sire. The Bragalese still have command of
the south and I doubt we could get anyone through without being seen on the
roads, and off road we don’t have anyone who knows the country that well. We
may be able to send something by sea, if we can find a ship willing to sail to
one of the Balq ports friendly enough to take it.”

“Yes,” Astiras sighed deeply, “I can’t think of any
kindly disposed towards us. We need to open a port along the coast. What’s the
one on the coast here? Ravna?”

“Aye, sire. Ravna is Bragal’s only port, but not far
enough south to be able to safely get to Mazag territory. Your daughter may
have passed that way, for all we know.”

“She may have; the gods alone know where Lalaas took
her. Find someone to take a message and I’ll compose one.”

“It may encourage the Mazag to move troops into southern
Bragal, sire,” Teduskis pointed out.

“I’ll give them authority to do so until Amne has been
found.”

“And if she isn’t found, sire?” Teduskis broached the
delicate subject.

Astiras glared at him. “She will be found!”

“All the same, sire, give them a time limit. Just a
suggestion.”

“Hmmph. I’ll consider the matter. I may leave the siege
to you if things don’t resolve themselves by the winter. I need to be in Kastan
at some time, and if this siege is going to be drawn out then there’s no point
in me being here sitting on my behind waiting.”

Teduskis looked alarmed. “You’d ride back alone? Bragal
isn’t pacified yet, sire. You’d need proper protection. Also what if anything
does happen? It’d take you a few sevendays to get here after receiving a
message!”

Astiras waved a hand dismissively. “I can’t remain here
for two years or however long it’s going to take, Teduskis! I need to show
myself at the capital and to be an emperor as well as a soldier.”

Teduskis looked worried but said nothing. Astiras
wouldn’t listen; he generally didn’t, at least not at first. It would take a
little time and sensible presentation of facts to make him change his mind. It
would take a fair bit of effort to make the emperor think differently. He could
be extremely stubborn at times. The bodyguard decided to change the subject. “How
far do you wish the fence to be extended, sire?”

“When we get the wood, just keep on until you get to the
river at both ends.”

“I’ll get the men digging the ditch again then.”

Astiras nodded. “It’ll occupy them and also it’s best to
dig now before the weather turns bad with the autumn rains.”

Teduskis saluted and made his way to the camp; it was
going to be a long summer.

____

Amne groaned as she gained consciousness. Her head was
pounding and her mouth felt dry as a bone. Lalaas shifted his arm and pulled
away, shaking it to get the blood flowing into it. They had slept all night
together and the daylight filtering in through the shutters had woken them
both. “Oh, my head,” she groaned and sat up, clutching her pounding skull.

Lalaas reached over and grabbed the jug of water on the
small stand. Beneath it was a large basin. He had the feeling it may be needed
very shortly. “Here, Amne, drink this,” he gently urged, pouring some water
into a cup.

Amne stared at the cup, then groaned again. “I’m going
to be sick!”

Lalaas put the cup down, grabbed the basin and thrust it
under Amne’s chin. The next moment the princess retched and brought up the
contents of her stomach. She heaved for a few moments, then, after emptying her
gut, sagged back white-faced onto the feather pillow. “I want to die,” she
whispered.

Lalaas urged her to sit up and passed her the cup again.
“Here, swill your mouth out and spit it into the basin,” he said.

Not being in any fit shape to argue, she meekly obeyed
and spat into the disgusting pool in the basin, then wrinkled her nose and
threw herself back onto the pillow again. Lalaas opened the shutters, peered
down and threw the basin’s contents out onto a corner of the yard, splattering
the contents wide. He pulled a face, then swilled the bottom out with some
water and threw that out, too.

Amne was still lying corpse-like on the bed. She looked
ghastly. “Bad head, eh?” Lalaas said.

“I’m never going to drink mead again,” Amne whispered. “I’m
dying.”

“No, Amne, you’ve just got a hangover. I’ve been there,
done it, thrown up in alleyways all over Frasia and Makenia. Welcome to the
club.”

“That’s not funny,” Amne groaned. “If I was well enough
I’d tell you off. Just let me die here in peace.”

Lalaas decided to leave Amne in the room and go out and
see if there was any consequence to him killing the two guards the previous
day. He also needed something to eat, and stopped downstairs to order food from
the innkeeper. He’d pick it up when he returned. The new day was warm and
promised to be a hot one. The auction platform was being assembled in the
square and more slave pens were being built along the side nearest the
platform. Here also a temporary blacksmiths was being set up in order to make
more slave collars. Business was doing well, or so it seemed.

He stopped by and examined a few slave pens, looking at
the listless people inside, staring out through the slats. A couple of guards
moved closer, checking him out, and Lalaas asked a few questions about the
slaves and their value. The guards didn’t know but directed him to the slaver,
a huge bald-headed man flanked by two equally huge guards. It seemed the
slavers were a little more nervous that morning but apart from that, there
seemed nothing amiss.

Satisfied, Lalaas returned to the tavern and took the
breakfast upstairs. He’d deliberately chosen a cold meal, not wanting to run
the risk of making Amne sick again. Amne was still in bed, looking like death
warmed up. “Breakfast,” Lalaas announced, shutting the door behind him, carrying
the food and drinks on a worn looking tray. To be more accurate, it was a
roughly sawn length of wood.

“Go away,” Amne groaned. “I’m too ill to eat.”

“Rubbish,” Lalaas said. “You need to eat; get some good
stuff inside you. It’ll cure the hangover much faster if you do, anyway. You
need fluid, too. Sit up.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Don’t you give
me orders! Remember who you are!”

“And remember where we are, Amne! I will also tell
you….” he switched to the peasant patois, “….tha’ we’re ‘ere ‘cuz ye wan’ed to
come an’ see f’yeself abou’ slaves.”

“Oh by the gods,” Amne groaned and shut her eyes again. “Speak
to me tomorrow when I may feel better.”

“No.”

“No?” Amne repeated in disbelief and sat up slowly. “No?
By the gods, I’ll have you punished for your insolence!”

“Go on then, Amne. Punish me. In the meantime, shut up
and eat.”

The princess gasped in outrage. She looked at the bread
that had been thrust under her nose. Lalaas shook it insistently and glared at
her until she snatched it and looked at him defiantly, then took a small bite
and chewed. Despite her reluctance and aching and general feeling of being
unwell, she found the taste welcome and took more bites, eating it slowly. A
cup of water was put by her side, resting on a small plate, and she sipped it
gratefully. Incredibly, a few moments later her stomach began to calm down and
the headache began to subside. She glared at her companion again and then
ignored him while she ate and drank.

Finally they finished and Lalaas cleared up, fussing
busily while Amne pointedly said nothing to him and got up. “Ah’ve looked a’
the slave pens this mornin’ an’ nothin’s happened ‘bout those two guards,”
Lalaas said.

“Good,” Amne said. “I want to see the pens.”

“You well ‘nuff?”

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t want to go,” she snapped.

Lalaas shot her a warning look. “Sshh! Don’ know if
any’un’s listnin’!”