Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (59 page)

Solaros shook his head. “Your names weren’t mentioned,” he said.

Vakram’s long face was split by a cynical grin, exposing his long, thick teeth. “Your presence,” he said, “is certainly known, Lord Antero. It has been the unspoken current beneath all the discussions.”

The Prince looked at him a moment, then nodded. “I suppose it was,” he said slowly. Then: “My father has been papering together a truce with the demons for some time. The negotiations came after King Ba’land agreed to cease hostilities, which is a jest for so many reasons and more violations then I care to number just now.

“Regardless, my father has made one concession after another, which as you know is the source of my disagreement with him. From his viewpoint, however, much progress has been made and the demons’ final demands met. And the truce required only the formality of signatures.”

“Allow me a guess,” I said. “King Ba’land has sent his regrets, claiming new matters have come to light that require renegotiating the entire document.”

Lord Vakram neighed. “What a wise fellow you are! Those are nearly that devil’s exact words. Weren’t they, your Highness?”

The Prince ignored him, saying, “Ba’land’s emissaries have informed us he is presently drawing up a new treaty with the additions, which they will shortly present to us.”

“I assume these additions,” I said, “are not negotiable.”

“Nothing is negotiable,” the Prince said.

“What nerve!” Vakram said.

“Furthermore,” Solaros went on, “they expect us not only to agree but to sign the treaty formally at our annual Creator’s Day, when we honor the ancient founders of our kingdom and the gods who blessed us.”

“Very canny,” I said. “The demons intend to smother your most symbolic day with symbolism of their own design. If your father agrees it’s as good as a surrender.”

Lord Vakram slapped his forehead. “I hadn’t thought of that!” he said. “The bastards!”

“Well
I
certainly had,” the Prince huffed.

“Do you think your father will agree?” I asked.

“He hasn’t said no,” Solaros said. “I would have thrown them out. Immediately!”

Lord Vakram’s wide eyes swiveled forward. “But that would also mean
immediate
war, your Highness,” he said.

The Prince’s features grew very hard for one so young. He said: “That is why I asked to see you, Lord Antero. My most pressing goal is to convince my father to refuse. And when — not if — that happens, there will be war. I want us prepared to wage it.”

Vakram seemed surprised, his lips drawing back over his teeth. “What are you suggesting, your Highness?” he asked.

The Prince replied: “That I want Lord Antero to help us in that task.”

“I am no soldier,” I said.

“I know that,” Solaros said. “But you have wide experience and knowledgeable soldiers in your company.”

While I chewed this over he said: “I caught your comments to my generals at the parade. At firs I didn’t see what was beneath them. Frankly, when I did, I was irritated. My pride was hurt. I may command all my father’s forces — in his name. But at heart I am a charioteer, and a charioteer is kin to the stallions who carry us into battle, all courage and speed and quick reactions to a continuously changing terrain. We fight where you aim us and do not think of the consequences, much less the plans that lead to those consequences.

“So I was slow in understanding your implied criticism. Which is that we fight by rote. And that we are defenders, not attackers. I can see that now. And I mean to set it right.”

“What you are suggesting, your Highness,” Vakram broke in, shedding the last of his jolly nature, “would be considered madness if it came from another source.”

“If insanity is called for,” the Prince said, “so be it! From now on we will train as if it is an enemy who opposes us, not tavern friends.”

“But your generals will never agree, my Liege,” Vakram said. “There will injuries. And think of the morale of the men!”

“Be damned to morale!” the Prince replied. “If what the demons conspire to achieve comes to pass we’ll be considering the morale of slaves instead of soldiers.”

Vakram champed off a retort and bowed his head.

Then the Prince said to me: “Will you do it, Lord Antero? There’s time, although barely, to get ready. If a confrontation comes it will be at the Creator’s Celebration. Which is some months away.”

I said, yes, we’d teach them how Orissans make war.

* * * *

My agreement may have endangered the morale of the Tyrenians but it certainly had the opposite effect on my company. When I called them together to explain what was to be done my remarks were greeted with much enthusiasm.

As if they had been given an magical command Quatervals and his ex-Scouts snapped to as one.

“First thing we do, lads,” Quatervals said, “is get ’em off the parade ground and show ’em the Scouts way, which no man has ever seen in a book.”

“Me bottom’s gettin’ lardy with all the sittin’ and the sippin’ we been doin’,” Kele said. “I may be a sea farin’ woman but me and me captains got a trick or three that’s confounded more lubbers’n not.”

Towra and Beran made loud noises of agreement.

“If’n they wants t’ know how t’ sneak,” Pip said, “cain’t find a better sneak master’n me.”

The Cyralian brothers got into a heated discussion on flaws they’d seen in the use of the archers and before I knew it the whole lot of them had forgotten I was there and were arguing the fine points such instruction might include.

When training commenced I thought the hardest part would come not from the troops but from foot-dragging generals. No general enjoys instruction, even when the order comes from their commander and Crown Prince. But such was the stature of myself and my fellow voyagers among their own men that their objections were drowned out by the loud cheers of the soldiers when the Prince assembled them for the announcement.

And they trained with a will, their spirits fired by the thought that such training was in itself an act of defiance against the demons. Soon all Tyrenia was caught up in the fever, making it very difficult for King Ignati to do more than grumble about the expense and the difficulty it would cause him in his dealings with Ba’land.

Even my mood brightened. I found myself thinking that the Tyrenians weren’t such a disappointing lot after all.

Still, I harbored no delusions about Ignati. He
was
king. And monarchs are rarely moved to risk their crown.

* * * *

Some time later Janela came blinking out of the archives like a mole into the sudden sun. She was wan and weary when she stumbled into our rooms. But victory glowed in her hollowed eyes.

“I’m almost there, Amalric,” she said. “I’m at the same point my great-grandfather was when he told you he was a wisp away from discovery.”

“What have you found?” I asked.

Janela shook her head, the weariness catching up to her.

“I can’t say, yet,” she said. “But I’ll
show
you what I can tomorrow.”

Then she dragged herself off to bed.

* * * *

Janela slept late the next day and we didn’t set out from our quarters until early afternoon. Although there were crinkles of tiredness at the edges of her eyes she seemed filled with energy.

She led me outside the main building for a stroll through the palace gardens that sprawled beside the outermost walls.

“Actually, it’s well I was such a slugabed,” she said. “We need to approach what I have found with some care. I don’t intend to keep it secret long, but it might be better as a whole piece rather than fragmented — which is how my mind feels just now.”

I looked about, then gave her a puzzled smile. It was a bright cheery day and courtiers were strolling by us on the same garden path inspecting the wares at the market stalls that lined the walls. Others were picnicking in a lovely park, while scores of high-born children were at play in a broad field.

“If it’s secrecy that’s required,” I said, “this hardly seems the proper time. A good skulking session requires wet breeches as part of your reward. And if you want to truly test the mettle of your bladder I’ve found the night much better. It comes with so many more alarming shadows and sounds than day.”

Janela laughed. “And if someone sees you,” she said, “suspicion is automatic.”

“There is
that
,” I admitted.

Janela took my hand. It was warm and smooth as silk off a caravan. “If we make this look like a romantic stroll,” she murmured, “no one will approach.”

She was right. Although our fame drew stares, those looks quickly turned away when they saw us walking like lovers on a summer day. After a time her closeness and the smell of her perfume began to make me feel less like an actor in a play.

We came to a small tavern near one of the museums she’d been working in. It was set under an enormous tree and with a start I saw it appeared to be same breed as the silver-leafed giant we had seen on the island after we took leave of Queen Badryia.

“Don’t stare at it, Amalric,” she whispered. “And yes, it’s exactly what you think.”

I tore my eyes away and we went into the tavern which was lightly attended since it was past the midday meal. The owner beamed when he saw Janela and hurried over to tell her everything she’d requested was nearly ready and would we care to sample his best chilled wine while we waited?

Janela said we’d be delighted and led me to a table resting at the edge of what I took to be a dance floor. Once again I was surprised. Instead of a floor it was a large, thick glass window and looking down I could see a lighted chamber. In that chamber was an ancient bath with room for twenty or more. It was made of milky stone and graceful statues of unclad serving women rose up on all sides, each tilting a pitcher into the bath. At one time water would have flowed from those pitchers to fill the pool. The walls were frescoed but so damaged by age I couldn’t make out the scenes they portrayed, although they gave the impression of soothing femininity.

“When the Prince told us he was restoring part of the original palace,” Janela said, “I mistook him to mean that all the Tyrenian monarchs had lived there since the beginning. Actually this kingdom is much older than that. The palace we see and the grounds around it were erected over the redoubts of even more ancient monarchs. When they constructed the museum they came upon the ruins you are looking at. No one saw any use in such a thing so they were going to cover it up.”

I smiled, saying, “And a clever man or woman of business came along and saw profit where they saw a hole in the ground, no doubt.” I looked around the tavern. The few patrons were very wealthy, very cultured Tyrenians. “What better place to sup and dine than on the mysteries of your ancestors?”

Janela chuckled. “Money makes you clear-headed Amalric,” she said, “where it confounds others. Yes, that is what happened. When I supped here the first day I came to the museum, my realization was somewhat different. I saw the tree outside and the view through that floor and doubted there was a coincidence. I cast a spell and found the tree to be near the age of that chamber. My interest was minor at first but the more I’ve delved into what I hope will be our deliverance, the more I thought these ruins deserved greater study.”

She pointed at the chamber. “That was the bathing room of King Farsun’s queen,” Janela said after the tavern owner had delivered the wine and retreated. “You know... the king in the dancer’s scene.”

“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “I know who you mean. The fellow Solaros said was Tyrenia’s first cowardly monarch.”

“Her name was Monavia,” Janela continued. “Legend has it she was sorely wounded by her husband’s cowardice. When they wed the whole empire celebrated the joining of such a handsome couple. When Monavia took her oath as queen she swore she’d buckle on armor herself if that became necessary to defeat the demons. But everything changed after her first child was born. On the feast day of her son’s first year of life the demon king sent his diplomats to sue King Farsun for peace. By odd coincidence that day was also the day when Tyrenia holds its most important event.”

“It wouldn’t be Creator’s Day, would it?” I asked.

It was Janela’s turn to be startled. “Yes. How did you know?”

I quickly filled her in on my meeting with the Prince and the deadline set by King Ba’land.

Janela grew troubled, then brightened and she said, “Yes. That makes things much clearer now.” She resumed the tale.

“When the emissaries presented themselves they behaved so familiarly many suspected this was not the first meeting. The suspicion grew when one of the demons boldly asked for a private audience and the king obediently cleared the chambers and had the doors barred and guarded. No one knows what was said in that room but the secret meeting lasted all that day and into the next.

“As you can imagine it cast a pall on both celebrations, with the whole kingdom worrying what might be occurring. Was the king dead? Was he a hostage? Just when the Queen was at the point of ordering soldiers to burst into the chamber the doors came open and the king called everyone in to announce this had been the most historic day since the founding of Tyrenia. The war with the demons had ended, he said.