Empire of Avarice (75 page)

Lombert studied Duras. “And what is it you’re offering?”

“Advice,” Duras spread his arms wide in a placatory and
friendly manner. Soul was not deceived for one moment. “Money. We Duras have
funds that can supplement your forces. We can even hire mercenaries for you. We
can alert contacts within both Niake and Slenna to cause dissention and
confusion there when the time is ripe. And I also have the right bait to lure
Jorqel out of Slenna.”

Lombert thought for a moment. “So. You willingly offer
all this. In return for what?”

“A share in the new kingdom. Generalship, maybe a
governorship. All this will not come free. You need us, just as we have been
waiting for someone like you to raise an army in revolt. Together we can topple
the Koros.”

“Governorship of, say, Lodria?”

Duras beamed. “Perfect! Our estates are down there. We
would, as the local House, be much more readily accepted as new rulers – under
your banner of course – than yourself.”

Lombert Soul considered the options. He had few. “And so
this great plan to get Jorqel out of Slenna – I take it you intend my army
faces the Army of the West while you take Slenna.”

“Indeed. Once Jorqel is defeated, Niake will surrender
to you. The Koros’ power will be broken on this side of the Aester. They will
not be able to cross over without leaving the east defenceless. Their great
‘empire’ will consist of a few pathetic provinces. The loss of both Bathenia
and Lodria in one swoop will cause a riot. With any luck Kastan will throw the
pathetic Koros out, then we can negotiate from a position of strength. You
could even enter Kastan as the new emperor and found a new dynasty, even if you
are not of a noble House.”

“And would the Duras willingly back me in this
enterprise? What of my Holy War?”

Duras waved an irritated hand. “The Holy War can wait. Maybe
you use that as a bargaining tool to secure Kastan. A war against the Tybar
would be popular. It may even unite Kastania. As long as the Koros are all put
to death and utterly exterminated. What say you, General Soul?”

“It has promise. But what is this bait you speak of?”

Duras laughed. “Ah. The prince is besotted with a
daughter of one of the minor nobles in Bathenia. A Sannia Nicate. He intends
marrying the girl next summer. Take the girl prisoner and threaten to execute
her. Jorqel will come running like a wild forest beast in rutting season. He
will not be thinking straight. Take her when you have your army ready and a
place to fight prepared. Then we will strike.”

Lombert Soul nodded. It was a good way to bring Jorqel
out of Slenna. He was sure he could train his army through the winter, a force
made up of disaffected elements of Kastanian society, ex-soldiers or unemployed
mercenaries, and even renegades from Tybar. He had as many men as the Army of
the West and by the spring, who knows? He may have more. He needed money, and
allies, that was for certain. The cutting off of the money from Niake had been
a blow and now he was desperate for a miracle. And now it seemed the Duras had
landed one in his lap. He would be a fool not to take it.

But he did not trust the Duras one bit.

Amne was busy the next few days. It seemed that everyone
wished to see her and speak of her travels, the Mazag, and of course her
marriage. Isbel had gone berserk; she had been commanding Frendicus to set
aside a portion of the imperial budget to pay for the wedding. Frendicus had
prevaricated but Isbel had finally resorted to making it clear his position as
treasurer depended on him finding the funds, so he had caved in, albeit with
much muttering and shaking of his head.

For Amne, though, it was a non-stop storm of visits,
appointments and discussions. Isbel had provided her with an office of her own
and two people employed solely to carry out the administration. Amne was taken
aback by the amount of work she was suddenly expected to do. The two office
staff, a personal overseer and a liaison officer, were attendant upon her each
and every day from morning until dusk.

Amne finally demanded some free time, about eight days
after becoming engaged to Elas Pelgion. She was grudgingly allowed one watch in
the afternoon, from mid-afternoon to dusk. It wasn’t long but long enough for
her to be able to fling herself onto her bed with a shriek of relief and lay
there, arms out-flung, eyes shut, breathing in and out hard to bring her mind
under control.

What madness! Whatever compelled people to want to
control and run an empire? How did her father and step-mother manage it? Clearly
with bigger staff. But that cost money and what with finite budgets, that was
hard. Requests for employment at the palace, pleas for funding with buying
crops here and dairy animals there, upkeep of the sewer system and the
cisterns, complaints about the lack of a city militia to keep law and order,
offers from dress makers for a wedding dress and offers from them to come to
measure her up, letters from various temples asking if she would attend their
holy day to lead the prayers to their god….. gods!! It went on and on and on!

Isbel had given her one small Frasian district outside
the walls of Kastan and the Turslenkan Gate Quarter to administer, thus taking
off her own shoulders a little bit of the strain. What was this Quarter like? Was
it as badly in need of funding as these letters professed?

She sat up, breathing in hard through her nose. Well,
Kastan damn it, she’d go out and see for herself. Why should she allow herself
to be stuck in this palace? How could she determine the extent of the problems
she was handed unless she saw for herself? She was damned if she was going to
rely on the sanitised versions of palace flunkies and bureaucrats who only
wished to pass on the information they wanted her to hear.

She was determined to be someone who made decisions
based on her own thoughts and not of those who tried to influence her to their
own ends, whatever they may be. She distrusted the smooth-talking advisors,
those who smiled a lot whilst they spoke. Never trust someone who smiled that
much.

There came a knock on the door. Amne sighed. Not even in
her free time was she allowed peace and quiet! “Yes?” she said testily.

Lalaas poked his head through the door. “Ma’am, your
brother Prince Argan wishes to see you.”

“Oh, Argan! Yes, yes, show him in!” She was happy to see
the boy. He was the exception.

Argan’s familiar shiny face and its wide beaming smile
met her. Amne stood up and opened her arms. “Come here, Argan!”

He ran to her and flung his arms round her. “Oh it’s
wonderful to see you again, properly!”

“It’s lovely to see you, Argan. We haven’t had much time
to speak since I’ve got back, have we? I meant to say you’ve really grown since
I last saw you. You’re becoming a young man.”

“You’ve got different, too,” Argan said, stepping back. He
was mindful of the lessons of etiquette he’d been instructed in recently. It
didn’t matter too much with Amne, since they were alone and she was his sister,
but some of the teachers were really stuffy and serious, and didn’t like Argan
being – what was the word they used? – flippant. He didn’t know what that meant
but he guessed it wasn’t a good thing. It sounded like flippers. Something
aquatic creatures had. He didn’t have flippers. He’d waved his arms after
they’d said it and looked closely at them. No, not flippers, definitely arms.

“Really?” Amne said, stepping sideways to avoid falling
over the edge of her bed. “Older, perhaps?”

“No,” Argan screwed his face up in concentration and
cocked his head to one side. Amne recalled he always did that when he was
concentrating. She smiled. He sucked on his lower lip. “You’ve got bigger.”

“Bigger?” Amne’s face vanished. That wasn’t good. “Where?”
she demanded, slipping her hands to her tummy.

“Oh, not there!” Argan grinned. “Your – boobies,” he
whispered, looking round to see if anyone was listening. “Do they keep on
growing the older you get?”

Amne giggled. “Oh, no, Argan. I don’t know why they
have. You really think so?” she cupped them and studied them closely. She had
to admit her dresses of old weren’t fitting her as well, and what she was
wearing was either what she’d picked up during her journey back or what had
been made hurriedly on her return. Her old wardrobe had been cast out as being
too old fashioned and musty.

“Yes,” Argan nodded. “Your legs, too. They look
stronger. Is that with all the equine riding?”

“Oh yes, it exercises you a lot, you’ll learn that when
you begin to ride. When is that going to be?”

Argan shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m supposed to
start soon. In the spring, Panat says.”

Amne ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ll go riding with you.”

“Will you, really? Oh that’ll be really great!”

Amne laughed at his excitement. To be truthful, Amne
needed to keep on riding; it had toned her legs, and her backside too. It had
made it firmer, something she believed made her look better. Appearances
counted for a lot, especially if you were in the public eye. Putting on weight
wasn’t good, unless it was in the right place. Her mother was a good example of
that. She liked Argan; he was always good-natured, and she had to admit to
herself, he made her laugh with his innocent observations. Sometimes she wished
she was young again. Ah, he would grow up soon enough and learn to be
deceptive, dishonest, cynical, duplicitous, scheming. Just like normal adults. Shame.

Argan’s face fell. “Oh, won’t you be busy getting
married and things? Mother said you’d not be able to do much else.”

Amne tutted. “Don’t listen to your mother too much,
Argan. She’s just fussing like a mother fowl; she’ll do all the work needed to
prepare the wedding. I won’t get a chance to get involved, mark my words,
Argan. I’ll just wear the dress and turn up on the day.”

“Is it going to be a beautiful dress? The ladies are all
talking about it.”

Amne giggled. “I don’t know, Argan. It’s got to be made
first. I’ll have to go for a fitting plenty of times.”

“You won’t leave the palace, will you, Amne? I didn’t
like you going away all this time to Bragal.”

“Don’t worry, Argan, I’m staying here. I’m a princess
and Elas will become Governor of Frasia when he marries me. That means Kastan
City will be his base, and this palace his office. I’ll go wherever he goes,
but I don’t think he’ll go far.”

“Good!”

“But I was glad I went to Bragal and Valchia. It did
show me a lot. You’ll be sent to places I should think, to learn about the
empire.”

“Will you show me where you went, Amne?” Argan asked,
his hands behind his back. “On the map in the big room?”

“You mean downstairs? Oh, you’ve been in there?”

Argan nodded, grinning. “It was brilliant! All those
places! I want to see them one day!”

Amne laughed, caught up in his infectious enthusiasm. “Yes,
maybe you will. Come on then, let’s go show you.” She put a hand round his
shoulders and Argan pressed against it, pleased at the warmth of her hand and
arm. They left the room and Lalaas and Vosgaris, both standing outside, fell into
step behind them. Amne glanced at the two. There was definitely an atmosphere
between them. She stopped. “Captain, I don’t think you need to accompany us. Lalaas
here is perfectly capable of looking after us.”

“Ma’am,” Vosgaris said with an edge to his voice, “I’ve
been given explicit instructions from the empress that I must not allow the
young prince here to go anywhere in this palace without me. Since the Kivok
incident the empress had been most insistent.”

Amne pulled a face. “She can be insistent, Captain, but
so can I. Please attend your other duties; I am capable of looking after my
brother. Unless, Captain, you think otherwise.”

Vosgaris hesitated, then glanced sideways at the silent
Lalaas. The inference was clear.

Amne smiled. “Lalaas, the same goes for you. Return to
my chamber and await my return. I wish to go riding later. Please arrange for
an equine for me. You shall, of course accompany me then.”

“Can I come, too?” Argan asked.

Amne shook her head. “Sorry, Argan, when you’ve learned
to ride, then yes. It’s not possible yet. I have to go look at the quarter I’m
responsible for, that’s all. Boring adult stuff.”

“Oh. I’d like to see what’s outside the palace, Amne.”

“One day, yes.” She looked at the two men. “Well, go on.
I’ll look after Argan here, and he can look after me.”

Vosgaris reluctantly turned, then halted as Lalaas made
no move. “You heard the Princess,” Vosgaris said with an edge to his voice,
“we’re not needed.”

Lalaas bowed curtly to Amne and turned stiffly. Vosgaris
received a bump to his shoulder as Lalaas strode past him. The palace guard
captain matched his stride and pushed him back as he came alongside. Amne shook
her head. Willy waving. Let the boys play. She grinned at Argan and together
they made their way to the great Council Chamber on the ground floor.

There were a few lights flickering in their holders, but
the chamber was cold and Amne shivered. It was quiet and slightly foreboding as
the two stepped down to the main floor. Argan didn’t appear to notice as he ran
to one of the chairs and scrambled up to the tabletop and peered at the
beautifully carved surface. “Show me, Amne!”

She came alongside and looked for a moment at the map. The
trouble was, Kastan City was in the centre and the furthest point from any
chair. “Oh, it’s too far to show you,” she said, disappointed.

Argan got up and crawled onto the table. “No, it’s not! C’mon!”

“Argan! That’s not allowed!” Amne said, shocked.

“It’s alright, mother or father won’t know! C’mon,” he
grinned mischievously. Amne giggled and got up awkwardly. It had been a long
time since she’d done something like this. The sharp carved edges of hills and
mountains dug into her knees through her dress but she slid onto her belly,
manoeuvring herself into a comfortable position. She was lying across the
plains of Mazag, a flat region bisected by the huge Ister River, so nothing dug
into her that much. Argan curled into the Balq Sea, to Amne’s left, and placed
his hand along the shore next to Kastan City. “So, you started here. Where did
you go first?”

Amne ran her finger from the wall of Kastan along the
flat looking countryside towards a series of jagged points. “Up here. It was
very cold and snowing. This was where we sheltered from a storm in caves.”

“Oh! What was it like?” Argan was all eyes and eagerly
devoured the tale Amne recounted of the journey with Lalaas and Theros. He
followed her finger tracing a route into Bragal and the rolling countryside
there. She told him of the winter and her illness, and of Lalaas saving her
life. Argan was enthralled, constantly asking her for more details. Her finger
came to the gash that represented the Ister River, and the frontier of the old
Kastanian Empire.

“We crossed the bridge about here,” Amne flicked a
fingernail at the river, “and Lalaas killed many bandits.”

“Ooh, tell me!” Argan had any normal boy’s appetite for
bloodthirsty stories, and enjoyed the tale of the crossing.

Amne saw the woodland that denoted the area she and
Lalaas had been almost captured by the villagers in, and missed that part out. Argan
didn’t need to know that. Eventually her fingers ran to a small collection of
squares that represented Bukrat. “Here we stayed for a few days.”

“Is it a big place? It doesn’t look nearly as big as
Kastan!”

“No, it’s small, but the Mazag now have it and they’re
building it up really quickly. They’re making it a military frontier town. So,
just outside here we met General Polak and his men and we went back into
Bukrat. Then, after we got the treaty signed, we went this way,” and she ran
her finger back to the Ister and across it, then made a path towards the
collection of squares that made up Zofela, “and met our father here at Zofela.”

“Is he in Zofela yet? Mother says he’s fighting the
rebels.”

Amne recalled the ghastly, nightmarish scene that had
met her eyes as she had come over the ridge. “Zofela is still holding out, but
I can’t see how it can for much longer. Father should be inside before long.”

“Why don’t they bash their way in?”

Amne didn’t know. It was a reasonably sensible question.
“I think they don’t have the men to do that. Father doesn’t want to lose too
many men. We haven’t got a big army, and if he loses too many men trying to
climb into Zofela, we may not be able to win. He’s got to keep his losses low.”