Fire and Sword (20 page)

“I need supplies, ma’am.”

“I’ve already told you I cannot spare any.”

“But my mission—”

“If I knew what your mission was, General, then maybe I could see my way to giving you what you need.”

“Or we could send a carrier bird to Kendra to clarify the position,” Prado said quickly, and bowed his head a third time, but this time to hide the swallow that bobbed in his throat. He held his breath, expecting a scream of outrage.

There was a terrible silence. It spread from the throne outward through the room like a ripple in a pond. Prado dared look up. Charion’s face had become almost as white as Areava’s.

But she is no Rosetheme,
he reminded himself.
She is angry because she has lost.
He resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

“Farben.” She spoke the name with a voice like ice. “Accompany this man to the main storerooms. He will be given what supplies he needs. He must sign for them.”

Farben bowed and scraped and backed away, plucking at Prado’s sleeve for him to follow. As Prado retreated, Char-ion said: “I do not ever want to see your face again, General. If I do, I will have your head cut off, and I will send that to Areava instead of a carrier bird.”

Prado turned his back on her and followed Farben out of the throne room.

Rendle listened patiently to the sergeant; the man had served with him for nearly twenty years, and he knew him to be as brave as any mercenary had a need to be, and responsible as well, something Rendle found rarer than courage. When the sergeant had finished, Rendle patted him kindly on the shoulder.

“You did the right thing. If the young fool had done as you advised, he would still be alive.”

The sergeant nodded helplessly. “Aye, Captain, I know.”

“And most of all, you’ve found the route is navigable.”

“But steep and slow and cold, Captain. Even if you started now, you’d not get our whole force across it by spring.”

“All right. Get some rest.”

The sergeant left, his head still bowed.

Rendle went inside the tent and checked the map which had been laid out for several weeks. On it were marked several trails leading to the Oceans of Grass, which his riders had scouted for him. With blue ink he carefully traced a line from his camp to the Oceans of Grass, going across the pass the sergeant and his late companion had followed. He now had three blue lines leading through the mountains; mainly old trails, naturally formed. All the other lines were marked in red: all dead ends or impassable by horse during winter. Most importantly, the three passable trails were no more than forty leagues from each other, two days’ comfortable ride on the Oceans of Grass. He could get his whole force across into the Oceans of Grass and hit the Chetts as they returned, tired and hungry, to the summer pastures. He did not expect to be lucky enough to find Lynan among the first clans he attacked, but one of them would have information about which clan was protecting the prince. With luck, he would be able to attack that clan, get the prince, and retreat back to Haxus before the Chetts could muster any effective resistance. It was a big gamble, but that was a part of any mercenary’s life: choose the wrong side in a war and even if you escaped with your life, you made no profit from it. If it had not been for the profit he had made in trading slaves, the last war would have left him high and dry and without a company.

Someone behind him coughed politely.

“What is it?” he growled. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“These are busy times,” replied a soft voice.

Rendle groaned inside. “King Salokan,” he said, turning. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Salokan smiled thinly. “You don’t mean that.” He regarded the shorter man for a moment, mildly jealous of the mercenary’s knotty build. He went to the map. “I see you have your third way across.”

“Yes. I can get the troops through the mountains in two weeks.”

“You will be divided.”

“Briefly.” He pointed to the middle trail. “We’ll rejoin here. Two days after reaching the Oceans of Grass we’ll be the largest military force on the plains.”

“Until the Chetts organize. How long do you think you’ll have?”

“Five weeks, maybe more. At any rate, I intend to be back within a month. How goes your own deadline?”

“Everything is on schedule. We’ll cross the border in two weeks.”

“You still intend to invade Hume before the thaw?”

Salokan nodded. “You’ll be crossing the mountains; compared to that, we’ll have an easy time of it. Besides, by now Axeava will know we’re on her border. If she’s been able to put together an army in the meantime, it will march in spring. That would only give us a few weeks. By moving early I can sweep aside her border patrols and be at Daavis before her army takes its first step. Once I have Daavis, she must retreat to protect Sparro and her line of supply.”

“And by then you’ll have Lynan, and with him you can work on Chandra to change sides. King Tomar has always had a soft spot for the General and his whelp.”

Salokan carefully studied Rendle. “If your plan works.”

“And if your plan works,” Rendle countered. Damn if he was going to take responsibility for the success of the whole invasion.

“We are in each others’ hands,” Salokan said easily. “We will both do our part.”

“And we will win.”

“
I
will win,” Salokan corrected him. “
You
will help me.”

Rendle bowed slightly. “Your Majesty.”

“Indeed.” Salokan sighed heavily. “I’m leaving for the border today. Pity. I’ve enjoyed our little chats. When do you start?”

“Now that I have my mountain passes, two weeks.”

“By the way, have you discussed your plans with General Thewor?”

“Yes.”

“I trust he gave you no trouble? I had a good word with him about this command thing.”

“No trouble. He was as meek as a lame horse. How did you convince him?”

“I told him I was thinking of starting a new elite bodyguard to protect my person, and that if he gave you any trouble he would find himself in command of it.”

“Why would that deter him?”

“It would be a bodyguard made up entirely of eunuchs.”

Ager woke with the sun, having only slept a few hours. He dressed quickly and limped out of his tent, scratching his belly with one hand and his head with the other. He realized almost immediately he had an audience of about two hundred Chetts, all regarding him with greater respect than he felt he deserved at that moment. He stopped his scratching and lowered his hands.

“Hello,” he said, a little awestruck. His breath frosted in the air.

Morfast stepped forward from the crowd and went to his side. “I assembled the Ocean clan’s family heads as soon as possible. They must swear their loyalty to you—”

“All of them?” Ager interrupted, startled. “This morning?”

“—or else they must leave the clan.”

“Oh.” Ager glanced around to see if anyone else was watching. A few passersby stopped to look on. “All right.”

It was over remarkably quickly. One by one the family heads came to Ager and placed his hand on their bowed heads, then left to make way for the next one. Although Ager did not even have time to get really cold before it was done, it lasted long enough for a crowd to gather around the ceremony.

“Have you any more surprises for me?” Ager asked Morfast.

“I was going to suggest we go to Korigan to let her know you are now chief of the Ocean clan.”

“Can it wait until after breakfast?”

“No need,” she said. “She and the White Wolf were watching the whole thing.”

“And a fine ceremony it was, too,” Korigan said, and came before Ager, Lynan standing a little behind her. The prince was smiling broadly at the crookback, from pride and amusement.

Morfast elbowed Ager in the side.

“What?” he asked. “I’m
new
to this, tell me what I have to do.”

“As your family heads gave themselves to your service, now you must give yourself to me,” Korigan answered for Morfast.

Ager blushed, glanced at Lynan. “Ah. And what of my loyalty to my prince?”

“Since I regard Lynan as my liege, he will still be yours.”

Ager looked uncomfortable.

“What is wrong?” Korigan asked.

“What if... I mean, if it comes about...” Words failed him. He felt he had been ambushed.

“I think I understand,” Korigan said kindly. “What if Lynan and I part ways?”

Ager nodded. “Exactly.”

Korigan smiled. “Would it make it easier for you if I said here and now—in front of members of your clan—that I will never ask you to do anything that would work against his Majesty?”

Ager sighed, and nodded again.

“Then I proclaim that Ager Parmer, soldier of Grenda Lear and chief of the Ocean Clan, will never have call to take arms against Lynan, who is the White Wolf returned.” Korigan held out her hand for Ager to take.

He smiled his thanks at the queen, took her hand, and rested it upon his head.

Lynan came beside him and said: “That was well done. For a lost and lonely crookback I first met at a tavern in Kendra, you have come a long way.”

Ager stood as erect as he could. “Haven’t we all,” he said heartily, starting to think that maybe inheriting Katan’s clan had been one of the more fortunate accidents to befall him. Lynan made a noncommittal sound and glanced at his pale hands.

“Some of us more than others, perhaps,” Ager added quickly, trying to tell the prince he understood.

For a moment they met each other’s gaze, and Ager caught a glimpse of the pain and uncertainty deep in Lynan’s mind. The crookback swallowed and looked away quickly.

“Riders,” Morfast said, pointing, “and coming toward us.”

“It is Term and another,” Korigan said, and Ager noticed her and Lynan stiffen. He tried to remember who Terin was, then recalled he was a fellow-chief, one who supported the queen.

A fellow-chief
, Ager thought.
I like the sound of that
.

The riders pulled up in front of Lynan and Korigan, their horses kicking snow into the air. Lynan took Terin’s reins. “What news?” he asked urgently.

Terin was very young, Ager saw, even younger than Lynan. Terin nodded to his fellow. “It’s best if it comes from Igelko.” All eyes switched to the second rider, who was obviously exhausted, and his mare close to being blown.

Igelko tried to speak but could only gasp.

“Catch your breath,” Lynan commanded. “Someone take his horse and care for it.”

Someone from Ager’s clan rushed forward and helped Igelko out of the saddle, then led his mare away.

“Your Majesty,” Igelko breathed heavily. “We caught one.”

Lynan and Korigan exchanged quick glances.

“Caught one what?” Ager asked.

Igelko glanced at him. “Mercenary. By the north spur of the Ufero Mountains.”

“The north spur?” Morfast said, surprised. “How did they get that far into the Oceans of Grass?”

“They came over the mountains,” Igelko said.

Morfast’s face went white. “From the north? Are you sure?”

Ager put a hand on her shoulder. “This is not your interrogation,” he said softly.

“Your M-majesty,” Morfast stuttered. “I’m sorry. But the news—”

“Is grim, I know,” Lynan said for her. He went to Igelko and helped him stand straight. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you, my lord.”

“Where is your prisoner?”

“A day behind me. My brother has him.”

“How much has the prisoner said?”

“Only that he works for Captain Rendle.”

“Rendle!” Korigan spat. She looked fiercely at Lynan. “Now we have our proof. Even Eynon will be convinced.”

“Terin, send a troop to escort this man’s brother and the prisoner. I want nothing to go wrong.”

“Already done,” Terin said, proud that he had thought of it.

“Well done,” Lynan commended him, then slapped Igelko’s back. “And to you and your brother. I will buy five cattle for each of you.”

Igelko bowed deeply. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Make sure this man gets some rest,” Lynan told Terin. “As soon as the prisoner arrives, I want to question him.”

Terin nodded and left, walking his horse and talking earnestly with Igelko. The young chief was smiling broadly.

“Terin will add a bull each to your five cattle,” Korigan told Lynan. “He knows how much esteem Igelko and his brother have won for the South Wind clan.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Lynan asked.

“Of course.”

“Lend me ten cattle?”

As she did most days, Jenrosa was down by the furnaces watching and listening to the Chett magickers weave their spells to make the fires run hotter. She tried to read their lips, but nothing she thought she could decipher made any sense to her theurgia-trained mind. She found it deeply frustrating, and more and more she realized she would have to go to Korigan and ask to be assigned to one of the White Wolf magickers for training. The thought of asking Korigan for anything made her hackles rise, but the alternative, to be the only one of Lynan’s original companions without a purpose or place during their exile, was unthinkable.

Someone called to her, and she recognized Lasthear, the Ocean clan magicker. “I see you here every day.”

“I want to learn,” Jenrosa said simply.

“You will not ask the queen for help.”

Jenrosa sighed. “I will have to, but it is not something I want to do.”

Lasthear studied her carefully. “I will not ask why, it is not my place. You are aware of the changes in my clan’s fortunes?”

‘“I’m aware Ager is now your chief.”

“If he asked me, I would feel compelled to take on your training myself.”

“I thought—”

“Ager could ask Korigan for dispensation to let me teach you. I do not think she would say no.”

“I will ask Ager right away,” Jenrosa said excitedly.

“There is no hurry. I cannot take you on while I am working so hard here at the furnaces. But later, when we leave the High Sooq, we will have time.”

“Thank you.” It was all Jenrosa could think of saying.

“It will be an interesting exercise, Jenrosa Alucar.”

Jenrosa blinked. “How do you know my name?”

“All Chetts know of Prince Lynan’s companions. You have become heroes to us.”

“I’m not sure why,” Jenrosa said bluntly. “Kumul and Ager I can understand, but I am no warrior.”

“You saved the life of the White Wolf.”

“That was no magic,” she said grimly.

“But it took great courage. And if you truly wish to learn the way of our magic, you will need great courage.”

No one asked him his name. He would have given that as willingly as he had all the other things he told them. The crazy-looking Chett sitting in front of him, slowly testing the edge of his sword, never took his eyes off him.

“I don’t want to die,” he said for the tenth time.

“You’re going to die,” said the tall female Chett who walked around him. “It’s only a matter of how quickly.”

The mercenary had long run out of tears, and all he could manage was a jerky breath.

“How many Haxus regulars will Rendle be taking with him?”

“I don’t know, not exactly. A brigade I was told.”

“You must have seen them.”

“Not all of them. We left to scout the pass before they’d all arrived.”

“Two thousand? Three?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many were there when you left?”

“A lot. Maybe two thousand.”

“Maybe more?”

“Maybe.”

There was a pause, and the Chett on the ground eagerly looked up at the female. She shook her head, and the Chett looked disappointed.

“So Rendle has a thousand riders himself now?”

“I already told you.”

“And at least another two thousand regulars?”

“I think so. Maybe more.”

“When are they moving into the Oceans of Grass?”

“I told you before, I don’t know. They don’t tell me those sorts of things.”

“You must have heard rumors.”

The mercenary closed his eyes. He had given away so much already, if only he could hold on to some of his secrets, the Chetts might yet pay for what they were going to do to him.

“No.”

“All right,” the female said. At first the mercenary slumped in relief, but then realized she had been talking to the Chett with the sword who was advancing on him. Just then the tent flap parted and another Chett walked in.

At least, the mercenary thought, he dressed like a Chett. But he was shorter than any Chett he had ever seen. The man’s hat was low over his face and he could not see what he looked like.

“Have you got what we need?” the newcomer asked.

“All except when,” Korigan said.

“Leave me with him.”

The two other Chetts left. The mercenary sat up straighter, struggled uselessly against his bonds. The short Chett just looked at him.

“I told the woman everything I know.”

Still the man said nothing.

The mercenary licked his chafed lips, but his mouth did not have enough spit left to do any good. “Just kill me. Get it over with.”

The man removed his hat, and the mercenary got his first glimpse of his face. He used his heels to push himself away.

The man crouched down and his right hand shot out to grasp the mercenary by his cheeks. The mercenary yelped but could do nothing against the strength of that grip. He was forced to look again at the scarred, ivory-white face.

“What are you?”

“You do not know me?”

“You’re hurting me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” the man said. The mercenary closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. “Unless you tell me what I want to know. Let’s start with your name.”

“Arein,” the mercenary said. He opened his eyes again, feeling a slender thread of hope for the first time since his capture.

“Arein, I need to know when Rendle is coming over the mountains.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Arein tried to shake his head. “No,” he said pitifully.

“I am the White Wolf.”

“Oh God, oh God ...”

“I am going to eat you alive.”

“... oh God, oh God ...”

“Tell me what I need to know, and I promise you will live.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because the White Wolf never lies.”

“I don’t know any white wolf.”

“You know me, Arein. You know Prince Lynan Rosetheme.” The man took an amulet from beneath his poncho.

“The Key of Unity!” Arein looked up surprised. “No, you can’t be the prince.”

The man grinned mirthlessly. “I have changed. But I am Prince Lynan. I told you the White Wolf never lies. I have no need to. Now, tell me when Rendle is coming over the mountains.”

“Before ...” Arein stopped himself. No. He
was
going to die. This mad thing was going to kill him, he was sure. The grip on his cheeks tightened and he cried in pain. “Before winter is over!” he blurted, and the pain went away.

The man straightened. “Before winter is over. Are you sure?”

“Rendle wants Prince Lynan to help Salokan invade Grenda Lear.” Arein looked up at the man’s face and again saw the Key of Unity. “He wants
you.”

The prince turned on his heel and opened the tent flap. “We have what we want,” he said to someone, and the woman returned, this time accompanied by a man who was as huge as the prince was small.

“Good,” the giant said. “We can kill him now.”

“No,” Lynan said.

Kumul looked as if he was about to argue, but remembered they were in front of the prisoner. He glanced at Korigan, who seemed as mystified as he was. “Your Highness, can we talk outside for a moment?”

As soon as they were outside, Kumul asked Lynan if he had other questions he wanted to ask.

“I’ve no more questions,” Lynan admitted.

“We can’t just let him go—” Kumul started.

“I didn’t say we would let him go. At least not yet.”

“We can’t keep him with us,” Korigan said. “The clan has no one to look after a prisoner.”

“He will stay here, at the High Sooq, after we have gone.

There will be no need to set a guard on him because he cannot go anywhere. When it is time to release him, we will send a message to Herita.“

Kumul scratched his head. “I don’t understand your reasoning, Lynan. Why not just kill him?”

“First, because I told him if he told the truth I would spare his life. Second, because I want our enemies to know that if they surrender to us, they will not be butchered out of hand.”