Nightlord: Shadows (106 page)

As for Byrne, it wasn’t even noticed until after Rethven went to pieces. Twenty years or so later, the new Prince of Byrne sent messengers to Vathula and they were eaten. He sent more, and the process repeated itself until Keria—apparently a rather short-tempered ruler—finally decided to hear what they wanted.

Short-tempered, maybe, but not stupid. Byrne was now just a city-state, but it had extensive farmlands due to the various streams and other runoff from the Eastrange. With lots of land and lots of water, it could grow more food than it knew what to do with. The initial deal was to trade food for copper, tin, and some other metals; Byrne wasn’t known for its metals industry.

Naturally, Bob made it a point to look into their new trading partner’s affairs. Byrne seemed mostly willing to viciously defend its borders and be left alone. After several years, however, it became apparent—at least, to Bob and his spies—that Byrne was building up its military. It was a slow process that spanned three generations. The Prince accepted sons into his army in lieu of taxes, for example. Soldiers’ sons were automatically enrolled in the army, daughters married other soldiers. The care and farming of the Prince’s personal lands was gradually taken over by soldiers, to feed themselves.

Meanwhile, all the excess food was shipped to Vathula, trading it for more metal.

Within the last six years or so, Byrne finally decided that it had enough metal. It stopped trading for metal and just accepted cash. With that money, it hired quite a few wizards and went cheerfully to war.

The new weapons, big, bronze rams of some sort, were obviously magical. The wizards were in charge of the men who moved and pointed the rams. The rams themselves, when activated, hurled dozens of marble-sized metal balls, or single balls of iron larger than doubled fists. The first mowed down men and horses, no matter how thick their armor, and the second destroyed walls and gates.

(While Bob talked, I wondered if these “bronze rams”—let’s go ahead and call them “cannons”—were using gunpowder, or if someone had come up with a spell, or a new application for an old spell to duplicate the propellant effect. Offhand, I could think of at least four ways a wizard might produce a gunpowder-like effect in a heavy, bronze tube. The fact they also had a wizard captaining every gun crew lent weight to the idea.)

Byrne rolled outward from its territory and conquered every principality with which it shared a border. After a year of that, it did it again, vastly expanding its territory. Now, after nearly a year of consolidating its gains, he expected it to expand again.

“And how does this relate to Vathula?” I asked. “Good stuff about Byrne, and I thank you for it, but…?”

“In that regard, I am not entirely certain,” Bob admitted. “There were a number of private meetings between Keria and the Prince’s chief advisor. I cannot say what went on, nor what bargains were struck. I can tell you that, after the very first meeting, she was much more agreeable to every proposal of the Prince. I felt that, somehow, she had become some sort of vassal to Byrne, for her willingness to heed their requests transcended Prince after Prince.” He frowned, thinking.

“More than once, I asked her magicians about her state of mind. They assured me that, for a quasi-demonic entity, she seemed relatively normal. I cannot say if they spoke the truth, for I cannot look beyond the flesh and see the spirit that moves a person, but I had my doubts. I would have asked the Dragonsword, but it was on the northern frontier, helping with the expansion of the Empire.”

“And when did this start?” I asked.

“The meetings between Keria and Byrne? The first meeting was… sixty-two? Perhaps sixty-three, or sixty-four years ago. I began to doubt her within a year, Dread Lord, but she was the only Lady of Night available, and she chose to claim the throne based on her descent from you.” He shrugged. “What was I to do?”

“I think you did well,” I told him. “So, she was acting suspiciously by knuckling under to Byrne’s princes. Anything else?”

“Perhaps. She also seemed,” he hesitated, then added, “brutal.”

I felt my eyebrows climb. Such a description from a creature that regarded other life forms as a temporary annoyance was chilling.

“She acted as though she hated everyone and everything,” he continued. “Her casual use of torture—no, let me say that another way. Her delight in torture, and the gleeful way she played with her victims… it did more, I think, to foment rebellion than anything else. And, of course, when word of some rebellion reached the capitol, her delight at sending her forces to collect new playthings was… concerning. Perhaps even dismaying.”

“I think I see.”

“I am sure you do, Dread Lord.”

“All right. So, Keria and Byrne have some sort of relationship, but we don’t know exactly what. What can you tell me about her magicians?”

“There were three. I believe she knew them from her mortal days. They sought to extend their lives, of course; Keria provided them with prisoners upon whom they could inflict their ancient years. She also allowed them to study her, on occasion. In return, they used their skills and powers to serve her interests.”

“Makes sense, from her perspective.”

“Indeed, Dread Lord. The magicians were Hagus, Tyrecan, and Rakal. Hagus was an expert in sending dreams and spying on them. Tyrecan’s main purpose was to scry upon things other than in the realms of dreams. Rakal was the one who conjured demons for her, with occasional assistance from the other two.” He smiled. “I understand that Hagus had his soul ripped from his body during one sojourn into the realm of dreams, and that Tyrecan died in a blast of fire while spying on someone who did not care for it.”

“You understand correctly.”

“As for Rakal,” he continued, “he was what I considered the leader of the magicians, insofar as magicians can be led. They listened to him, as did Keria. I wondered, on occasion, if Rakal had some sort of hold over Keria. I presume she needed all three of them, but perhaps Rakal held some special significance for her from her mortal days?”

“I don’t know. If I ever met him, it was briefly, while I was inside a containment circle. It wasn’t really a social occasion. And, if I ever meet him again, I don’t anticipate being very social then, either.”

“I understand, Dread Lord, and look forward to your meeting with pleasure.”

“Now, let me get some string; I need to measure you for some new hands.”

Bob glanced at his freshly-bandaged wrists. I could clearly see from his expression that he wanted to ask “You can do that?” but all he said was, “Thank you, Dread Lord.”

Sunset. I stood in a waterfall and waited it out. As I was dressing, Tort came in with a belt and baldric, as well as a heavy leather sheath, complete with sword.

Hi, Boss!

“Hello to you both,” I returned. “I see Firebrand has a nice place to hang around.”

“Yes,” Tort said, and Firebrand agreed. “I thought it might be content with but one day in such a forge as my angel created, and so wish to accompany you.

Keep this one, Boss
, Firebrand advised.
She not only likes you, but she thinks ahead.

“I agree,” I said, answering them both. Tort helped fasten everything on and I settled Firebrand into a comfortable position, relegating my other sword to the opposite side.

What do you need that one for, Boss?

I’m sentimental about it. Besides, you never know when I’ll need to grab an enemy’s soul and jam him into a sword. I’m certainly not putting anyone else in with you.

Hmm. Good point.

Besides, I might want to fight with a sword in each hand. Keria did that to me, and it was an ugly, unpleasant experience that I would like ugly, unpleasant people to experience.

Firebrand chuckled.

“I like it,” I told Tort, and kissed her because she seemed to be expecting it. Maybe a little bit because I wanted to, as well. She really is a wonderful person. Why she chooses to hang around with me is an open question.

“Now,” I continued, “what can you tell me about the cities that recently tried to invade?”

“Tolcaren, Formia, and Maran are coastal cities between Baret and the old capitol, Carrillon,” she told me. “Their Princes are Rogis, Palays, and Drannis. Maran attempted an invasion through the seawall under Drannis’ father, Prince Dromon, and was repulsed. Formia—Prince Palays—also attempted an invasion by landing and marching to Mochara, and suffered considerable difficulty before even reaching Mochara. Tolcaren, however, has never before shown any interest in us, but it is suspected that Prince Rogis has been persuaded, either by representatives from Byrne, or by some offer from Kamshasa, to participate in this latest attack.”

I stared at her for several seconds. She looked back at me, unabashed.

“My angel? Is there something wrong?”

“No, no,” I assured her. “I’m just… I didn’t think we knew a lot about the Rethven cities and their politics?”

“You did say we should find out more,” Tort pointed out.

“I did?”

“You did. And so I have.”

“Been spending a lot of time at the scrying mirror, have we?”

“Oh, no!” she protested, shocked. “That would be pointless. Such a course would require seer observing each city—more than one, to watch it constantly. Even then, we would only learn what the seer could actually see. The difficulty with being able to see anywhere is knowing where one needs to look. Watching a palace would take constant effort by teams, for although one room may be interesting, more important things may happen are in another. It really is not a practical way to gain this kind of information.”

I frowned in thought.

“New spell?” I asked. “Or some sort of automated word-recognition? A magical recording, somehow, of various scrying points that you can review later?”

“No,” she said, head cocked to the side, “although your idea is something new. I could attempt such a thing in the future.”

“Okay, I give up. How are you collecting all this information?”

“Spies.”

“Spies?”

“People who will observe and report,” she clarified.

“Yes, I know what the word means,” I told her. “Spies. Direct. Simple. Even mundane. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Because you think like an honest man?
Firebrand suggested.

Tort’s lips tightened with the effort of not laughing, but her eyes danced.

“Thank you, Firebrand,” I said. “I’ve missed you.”

Glad to help, Boss.

“Sometimes I’ve missed you more than other times.”

Have I just been insulted?

“Rebuked, maybe,” I allowed, and looked at Tort. “So, you’ve sent spies into various cities in Rethven?”

“Yes, my angel.”

“Okay. Carry on.”

So she told me about the Princes of Tolcaren, Formia, and Maran, as well as a lot more about their cities—who they traded with, who they didn’t like, what claim each had on the throne of Rethven, their family trees, their relative wealth, the size of their standing armies, the defenses of their cities, the works.

We moved into my study area so I could sit down and take notes. Tort just rattled it all off as though she memorized it, which she very well might. She’s a magician; you don’t make it to magician status by being stupid.

I looked over the pages (Pages! Of paper! Lots and lots of glorious paper!—sorry about that. To continue…) of notes and wondered if Tort had missed her calling. Maybe she should have been a spymaster, rather than a magician. Or did being a magician make it easy to be a spymaster? Good question.

“All right. I think I have a plan. Sort of. How are we doing on magic mirrors? Do we have, um, four sets?”

“We do. T’yl and I have recruited some of the wizard’s guild for help; six of your sets are ready. The other six are still not yet complete.”

“That’s more than enough. I only need four, tonight. But I think I’ll need you and T’yl down in the gate room.”

“When?”

“Since it would be rude to wake people, let’s do this now; hopefully, we can finish in less than an hour. Then I can be up all night arguing with people.”

“I feel certain I can help you recover from the ordeal,” Tort promised.

We took the local half of the magic mirror pairs to the conference room and let the mountain hold them on the walls. For my part, I worked with the sand table, zooming out and in, finding three cities. In each one, there was a palace, which required a little “wandering around” before I could find someplace suitable inside it.

As I did so, I wondered about magical protection. Do people just not much care about being spied on by wizards and magicians and such? Or is warding a whole palace too much work? Admittedly, all magic-workers have varying levels of skill and power; maybe some rooms of the palace are more thoroughly defended than the palace as a whole. Still, it’s not hard to maintain a spell. Someone could hire a magician to put a good one on the palace to prevent scrying and other magical spying, then the court wizard—or wizards, for really rich places—could simply keep it going.

Maybe I’m just too used to magic being all over the place. People in Rethven consider traveling wizards to be the only magic they’re likely to see; they only come to town every week or so. It’s kind of like having the circus come to town. In Karvalen, a wizard is a distinction between a dabbler in magic and a professional that earns his living. Karvalen wizards are more like plumbers—and, yes, like plumbers, they’ll fix what you tried to do yourself.

Once I found my target points, I fixed them in memory and we headed down to the gate room. A little work with a regular scrying spell brought up the first one, in Hagan. Prince Jorgen was a decent sort, and he promised to think about continuing to be a decent sort in regard to Karvalen. I wanted to drop off a mirror so we could talk about it.

I disconnected the prisoners from the scryshield and plugged them into the gate. We weren’t going out of the universe tonight, but I planned to go several places. It was going to strain the gate’s charge.