Nightlord: Shadows (100 page)

Four days. That’s how long my oxygen-deprivation spells ran on the tunnel mouths, flooding the undermountain region with stealth suffocation. I don’t know if it killed anyone or if they just decided to leave, but no one came out, no one attacked. If we’re lucky, several thousand more troops are fungus food down in the dark. If not, maybe there are a few dead ones and more with brain damage.

Do you get the impression I don’t much care for
orku, galgar,
ogres, trolls, and other denizens of the deep mountains? You may be right. They’re not just ugly in the physical sense, they’re ugly in the spiritual sense. They are cruel, brutal, and believe in the domination of the weak by the strong. And they don’t taste good, either.

“Cooperation” is not in their vocabulary, and I would know. The closest thing they have to the idea is
glochnakà
, something like “obedience to achieve a goal.” This is distinct from the idea of working together for mutual benefit;
glochnakà
implies that each individual is obeying just to get something for himself. A shaman with a plan to raid a village can’t command the obedience of fifty armed
orku
; they will, however, go along with his orders to loot the village.

Most of the time.

We finished deporting most of the enemy troops while keeping a sharp lookout for any other incoming armies. We didn’t deport all of them; some of them didn’t want to go back. Well, when you don’t have a family and someone shoves a spear in your hand, a helmet on your head, and says you’re a soldier, it doesn’t really inspire a huge level of loyalty. I guess, technically, they could be called deserters. Then again, conscription is a lot like slavery, so I’m pretty much against it.

But what do I do with them?

Amber’s idea was to talk to Captain Rendal of Mochara’s City Watch. She and I discussed it for a while and she made some very good points. I agreed and paid a visit to the Watch’s headquarters yesterday.

Yes, I should have put this into an entry yesterday. Sue me.

Rendal welcomed me into his office immediately. Not a bit of surprise or anxiety, either. Apparently, if the King wanted a word, why, that was perfectly delightful. His office very comfortable, I noticed. His armor reminded me of a Spanish conquistador’s; it was highly polished with brass accents and was hung on a rack. From my discussions with Amber, it was my understanding that he did a lot of organizing and ordering, not a lot a tromping around the streets. He was starting to develop a spare tire around his middle, but that can happen when a man is in his forties. I noticed his chair was a heavy, wooden thing with no padding whatsoever. I wondered what that should tell me about his character.

“What can I do for Your Majesty?” he asked the moment we sat down.

“Well, I have some immigrants,” I told him. I explained who they were and why they wanted to stay. “I’m not against it, but I’d like to keep them… hmm. I don’t want to just let them roam around, unsupervised and unemployed.”

“You wish me to assign guards to them?”

“Not really. I’d rather have them associate with members of the city watch and learn how to be decent, civilized residents of the kingdom.”

“You wish me to find positions in the guards for them.”

“Exactly.”

Rendal hesitated, thinking about what he wanted to say.

“Majesty, are you fully aware of how the guards of Mochara are organized?”

“Nope. But you are. And from what I hear, you’re an excellent organizer. That’s why I want you to help me.”

“I suppose… how many men are we talking about?”

“About sixty, I think, give or take. But I also want your help on something much, much larger.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. I had no doubt that eyebrow intimidated underlings. It reminded me of one of the professors on my doctoral committee. It wouldn’t have been any more intimidating if it was loaded.

“Yep. The city watch—you know, I just realized, I’ve been calling it a lot of things, but I’ve never actually asked what you call it. What is this organization, anyway? The City Watch?”

“We keep watch, that’s true, but it is only one of our functions. I think of us as the City Guard. We watch for external threats and organize militiamen under us, but our primary purpose is to keep the peace. We patrol the streets, break up fights, investigate theft, robbery, and murder. That sort of thing.”

“Got it. That’s perfect. It’s exactly what I want.”

“I am pleased to have been of service to Your Majesty.”

“Now I want you to do it again. I need someone to set up and organize a City Guard for Karvalen. I’d like you to do it because Amber trusts you and I’ve heard very good things about your abilities.”

“Majesty,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “I would be honored to accept such a position, but I am not a noble. It seems to me that you want a knight in that position, at the very least.”

I grinned at him, careful of my teeth.

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

“You don’t?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand,” he admitted.

“I get that a lot. Here’s the deal. My intention is to have a multi-layered process for people who want a military career. First and foremost, they need to understand how things work in this kingdom, and that means having a fair knowledge of our laws and customs. I’d like the Guard to take on… hmm. What’s the lowest rank you have?”

“From lowest to highest, we have Guardsmen, Watchmen, Lieutenants, and myself—the Captain of the Guard.”

“Got it. What I would like is to put people into the Guards as, maybe, Junior Guardsmen. They can follow around a
real
Guard, act as his assistant, and live the life of a Guardsman. After a year, if they still like the idea of a military career, they can be transferred out of the Guards and into the army.”

“We are not really a good way to train soldiers,” he noted. “Discipline, yes, we can teach them that, but our weapons are usually clubs or crossbows. We train with other weapons, of course, to defend the city, but our usual duties require no more.”

“That’s not the point. I want people to feel that the first duty of anyone who… no, let me start over. Two major institutions in a kingdom can—legally—use force to impose the will of the King. The various guards of a city, and the military.”

“The Guards are not part of the military?” He sounded surprised.

“When we raise the militia, yes; they get sucked into it by the circumstances. But—and correct me if I’m wrong—most of your time is spent dealing with the citizens, themselves.”

“Correct.”

“The military, fundamentally, exists to defend the kingdom from its enemies. If the military is used to police the people, the people generally wind up regarded as the enemy. That’s my feeling on the matter.”

“If I may say so, Your Majesty, I do not fully agree, but I accept your view on the matter.”

“Noted. I’ll err on the side of caution, however.”

“As you will, Your Majesty.”

“So, what I want to do is instill in anyone who wants to be in the military the idea that, first and foremost,
peace
must be preserved. The people aren’t the enemy; chaos, disorder, confusion, anarchy—those are the enemies. Their first job is to make peace. Not kill, not burn, not destroy, but to stop violence.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible with an army,” he said. I agreed with him. But it was a start.

“True. I would rather have soldiers that mutiny and drag their commanding officer before me in chains than I would soldiers who will burn prisoners alive because they were ordered to do so.”

“Isn’t that a dangerous thing in an army, Your Majesty?”

“Maybe so. I would rather face that danger than the consequences of soldiers who think looting, raping, and pillaging is their reward for a job well done. It may be dangerous, but I think it’s
right
.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped on his desk, and looked at me keenly. I looked back at him, wondering what he was looking for. Whatever it was, he either found it or didn’t, because he leaned back again.

“It’s been said you are a monster, Your Majesty.”

“I’ve said it, too,” I agreed.

“Yet, you move through the kingdom like a whirlwind, changing everything, upsetting everyone, altering the course of destiny, it seems, for every one of your subjects. You move through and leave chaos and change in your wake, like that whirlwind. Unlike that whirlwind, when the dust settles, I think you may leave things better than they were before.”

“I sure hope so. It’s really my biggest fear—screwing things up for everyone. I just want to make everyone’s life a little easier, or at least a little less short and brutal.”

“Then you are a King,” he said. “My King.” He got up and moved to his armor rack. He drew the
sharmi
from the belt and came over to me. He held out the sword.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to take it, and I’m not going to knight you.” Before he could say anything, I held up a hand. “I’ll tell you why, too. Knights have swords for symbols, because that’s what they use: an instrument of killing. The Captain of the Guards—and all those under his authority—have a different duty. They
defend.
So a sword is the wrong thing. You shall have a shield, as a defender of the people.”

Rendal’s face split into a smile. It looked like it wasn’t at home there; all the lines on his face were worry lines. But it settled in and made itself at home in short order.

“Just as you say, Your Majesty.” He replaced the sword on the rack.

“There’s another reason I don’t want the Captain of the Guard to be a knight. A knight is a military man. We had that discussion about the difference between the military and the guards, right?”

“Yes.”

“And, lastly, there may be some people who think their fancy titles or supposedly-noble bloodlines or just plain wealth entitles them to a cushy job as an officer in the military. It doesn’t. And, to point that up, they’re going to have to learn to take orders from someone with no noble titles at all. I want a man of the people to defend the people, and even some lordling from a great and noble house will have to learn the discipline—the self-discipline—needed to take orders and to obey them. Maybe even a small helping of humility.”

“I think I can arrange that.”

“I’m hoping you can also arrange and organize a Karvalen City Guard.”

“It will be difficult, being Captain of the Guard in two cities, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you can find someone to be Captain here, then someone else to be Captain there. You’re going to have to, since I’m promoting you to Commander of the Guard.”

“There’s no such thing,” he said, dubiously.

“There is when you’re the organizing and coordinating force among more than one city… Commander Rendal.”

I got to my feet and he rose with me. I took his hand and shook it. People are going to have to get used to that; I’ve had to get used to enough of their cultural differences.

“I’ll go arrange for your shield, and then we can see about a ceremony. I’ll let you know.”

Yesterday was a very good day.

I’ve also done a lot of work on refining my sand table and almost as much on weapons research.

The sand table is much better at presenting a full sculpture of whatever I’m looking at. The breakthrough came when I finally realized I was a moron. Coordinating two scrying sensors was no trouble. Coordinating three was about as much fun as a flaming stick up your… nose.

So I started using
four
. Two of them, linked together, gave a nice stereoscopic view from the left; the other two gave a similar view from the right. Taa-daa!

I am a genius. Sometimes a very slow genius.

Now I’ve also got some colored sands. The sand-sculptures are looking terribly realistic. I’ve got focus, zoom, pan and tilt, and limited color. I think I’ll have to start working on a holographic illusion, soon.

I’m proud of that sand table. I think I have the right to be.

On the other hand, I’m not proud of my second “warning shot” at Vathula.

Naturally, Keria hasn’t sent a messenger or anything, and certainly hasn’t sent Firebrand. So I’m forced to give her another nudge.

As an aside, I’ve realized the problem with making threats to intimidate. It’s true that, if you make the threat both credible and horrific, most people will fold. They don’t want you to do whatever it is you’ve threatened to do, so they give you what you want.

But if they don’t…

Well, then you have to follow through. What did I say about Vathula?

“You have a choice. You can send me my sword, or I will come get it. If I come get it, there will be not so much as a stone left standing on stone where Vathula used to be. There will be a lake of fire that will burn for a thousand years where once that city stood, and even your ashes will scream as they float amid the flame.”

Well… shit.

Pardon my language, but that’s how I feel about it.

Which, of course, brings me to the thought of Tolcaren, Maran, and Formia. Didn’t I promise to destroy those cities, too?

My mouth is big enough for my foot. I can unhinge my jaw and fit both feet, if I try, but it makes me look silly.

On the other hand, I haven’t finished trying to intimidate Keria, and I haven’t even started on the other three cities. And, boy, have I been awful with my second warning shot. Gruesomely awful. Heydrich would have had me up for war crimes.

It’s times like these I realize I really am a monster, and that’s got nothing to do with being a vampire.

So, here’s what I did.

I got my guard together, last night, and we had a little sit-down, headspace-sharing moment. I wanted them completely up to snuff and familiar with their part. There was a real risk that I was about to get ambushed; I would be too busy to pay much attention to anything else. That’s what my personal guard are for, aren’t they?