The Dragons of Argonath (7 page)

In the second coach rode the three grey muses, as Pascal liked to call them. Clad in black cloth was the man Wysse, who had been Pascal's secretary for a decade. His eyes perpetually mournful, like some overgrown bloodhound, his hands always ink-stained, Wysse was a man of documents. Next to him rode Doctor Orta, a round-faced man who wore white robes with the grey stripe of the Office of Insight. Orta was fanatically devoted to the health of the emperor. Everything that Pascal did had to be monitored and evaluated and inspected and carefully considered. Orta was the man of the vegetables.

Finally there was the slender woman of indeterminate middle age with lank white hair cut to her shoulders. Her pale complexion and grew eyes matched the uniformly grey shift, tunic, and shawl that she wore. She sat on the other seat and looked out the window, lost in thought. She was Lessis of Valmes, the Grey Lady, a Great Witch of Cunfshon. She was known to be more than five hundred years old. Lessis was the woman who brought heartaches, at least to the Emperor Pascal.

The outriders clattered into the small village of Sunder.

There was a knock at the emperor's window. Commander Grant was there, leaning down, earnest concern on his face.

"Your Majesty, this is a small village about a mile or so from Cailonne. The water here is very good. I suggest we change horses here, rather than in Cailonne."

"Good. We'll stop here a moment, then."

The emperor stepped down. All around him, at a distance, a screen of hard-faced men in grey and black moved purposefully about the village, their eyes peeled for the slightest sign of danger.

The occupants of the other carriage got down too. Wysse and Orta seemed a little stiff, but Lessis moved with a light spring and a playful jump that belied her age.

The emperor pulled his purple cloak around him, and strode out on the open ground in front of the village's only inn. He gazed off up the road, which wound away with a curve to the northeast. To the right loomed the purple hills of Ersoi, a wild and rugged area that was once famous for bandits. To the left, a pair of curiously round hills hummocked up from the fertile green valley bottom. Everything was clothed in golden late afternoon haze. He sighed with pleasure. At last he was beginning to feel like himself again.

There was a cloud on the horizon, however. He was aware of her presence, he always was. Without turning around he spoke.

"We will continue through the night. When do you think we'll reach Ryotwa?"

"By late morning, perhaps by the tenth hour."

"There! We will have gone from Kadein to Ryotwa in two days. The speed of a courier! I told you we could do it."

Lessis did not respond. Pascal continued to admire the round hills that glowed in the evening sun. The forests on their upper slopes were lit up with golden light.

"The country here is splendid, is it not?"

"This is Blue Stone, Your Majesty, famous for its natural beauty and its dragons." Pascal pointed off to the right. "There are the Ersoi Hills, am I correct?"

"Indeed, sir."

Pascal swung around. Wysse and Orta were out of sight. The worn horses were removed from the shaft and fresh horses were being lead up from the string. Beyond the horses the hills were a series of purple masses, dark beneath the setting sun.

"Tomorrow Ryotwa. We will tour the palace with the king and greet the people from the balcony. Before our enemies can even begin to organize anything against us, we will be finished there and ready to move on."

Lessis nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Local people, led by the village mayor, were gathering to meet the emperor. Pascal roused himself. With a smile and a firm handshake, he dove in among them. Now was the opportunity for the people to see and speak with their emperor. To see that he was a genuine person, who understood their lives and their troubles.

He clutched at their hands, kissed a proffered baby, hugged an old woman who brought him a glass of wine, and greeted as many as possible with a personal smile and a nod.

A few minutes later he extricated himself, while the men in grey and black watched with flinty eyes, and returned to his coach. He signaled for Lessis to join him.

With joyful waves to the astounded locals, they rolled out of Sunder and down the road.

"We are to dine in Cailonne. Apparently the food here is very good."

"The ale is famous throughout the land, Your Majesty."

A silence fell over them.

"Well? I sense your disapproval, Lady."

"Your Majesty, I have been troubled since this progress began. I will continue to be troubled until it is over."

"And as chief of your office, I suppose that is to be expected. Still…" He gestured vaguely out the window.

Couldn't she see that they were succeeding by boldness? Here they were, pounding down the highway, actually ahead of the news of their coming. What could be more secure than that?

"I thought we did rather well in Kadein. Didn't you think things went well there?"

"They did, Your Majesty. Undoubtedly there will be new heart in the forces of the governing party. King Neath will survive. Perhaps the grain factors can be turned back."

Pascal nodded at her words, a smile of satisfaction creased his face.

"There, doesn't that sound like a job well-done? This visit was necessary! After Eigo the wound was deep."

"Still, Your Majesty, treachery could have come at any moment. As it was, I doubt that our security was good enough to completely mask our departure from Kadein."

"We travel as fast as any messenger, unless they've taken to riding those bat things."

"There are other ways of sending messages, Your Majesty."

"The grain factors are not sorcerers, Lady."

"They are wealthy. Not all sorcerers are so blessed."

He threw up his hands. "If I were to listen to you witches, there would come a point at which we would become so scared of our own shadow that we would not dare to go outside."

Lessis smiled. He had a point. The emperor was still vigorous, chafing against the restraints of his position. It was up to her, once again, to play the sorry old voice of caution. She sighed inwardly. Retirement seemed far away now. She missed thinking about simple things, like the health of her pear tree, or the rabbit that was raiding her lettuces. Now all that had been snatched away, and she was back in the eye of the hurricane, riding beside the emperor himself, sick with worry.

"Of course, Your Majesty. This progress through the cities is good politics. And in other times it would not concern me nearly so much."

"You cling to the thought that we are in deadly danger."

"We have had information of a disturbing nature. You know what I'm speaking of."

The Emperor Pascal frowned and looked out the window.

"The concepts are difficult, hard to believe perhaps."

"But true, nonetheless. The situation is unclear, and highly volatile. We have a new enemy, a shadowy foe who will not reveal himself until his victory is assured. He has forged some kind of alliance with the Four Masters still in Padmasa. He is a known master of the arts of manipulation. He will seek to ignite civil wars and internecine struggles among his enemies. On many worlds he is called the Deceiver. On others simply the Dominator."

"What motivates such a monster?"

"There are great mysteries here, that hark back to the very beginning of the world. This one was sent to infuse spirit in the world, but failed his duty. The thirst for power can be very strong, Your Majesty. It can unhinge even the greatest minds."

They clattered over a bridge into a small town.

"Where are we?" Pascal called up to the driver.

"This be Cailonne, Your Majesty. Next town is Brennans."

"And what do they do in Cailonne?"

"They grow barley and wheat here, sir," said the guard. "The ale is good too."

"We shall stretch our legs here, and perhaps take a quaff of the famous ale."

They pulled up. The market square in Cailonne was dominated by the red brick Hotel Cailonne. Out of the carriage, Lessis walked behind the emperor, allowing the bodyguards free rein. The emperor never moved, but he was covered by two or three men at all times. A pair of archers stood behind the carriage and scrutinized the upper windows all around the square.

Pascal, who was not oblivious to all of this, was determined to meet the people. Word had already flashed through the village that some very important personage had suddenly pulled up in the market square with thirty men, two carriages, and a huge string of spare horses.

He strode through the crowds as men went ahead proclaiming the presence of the emperor, Pascal the Great.

Outside the Hotel Cailonne he was greeted by the manager, the mayor of the town, and several prosperous farmers. A silver mug of the best ale was brought out on a silver tray, and the emperor ostentatiously drank it and called for another. There was a roar of applause. Meanwhile Secretary Wysse paid for a round of ale for everyone present, and a cheer went up.

A quick meal of cold meat, fresh bread, and steamed vegetables was produced in a few minutes from the kitchen of the Hotel Cailonne. The emperor dined with the mayor of the town and twelve of the leading citizens and their wives. Pascal did not stand on Imperial protocol. With the first clink of the ale pots, he told them to treat him as one of themselves, to tell him what they really thought of things.

To some extent they actually went for it, and for half the hour they spoke of their fears concerning the Aubinans, and their sorrow after the Eigo campaign. Two men from Cailonne had gone to Eigo and not returned.

Pascal nodded somberly. His hair had gone from black to grey the night he'd sat up with the casualty lists from Eigo. He paid his respects to the fallen and explained that the mission to Eigo had been vital to save the world. In their eyes he saw the sorrow give way for a moment to a broader understanding.

As the emperor headed back to his coach, he fell in alongside Ambassador Koring of Ryotwa, a short, distinguished-looking man, who even at the age of fifty-five could still ride a horse all day and night.

"Join us, Koring, until we reach the next town."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Koring signaled for his horse to be tied to the emperor's coach and climbed aboard. At the sight of the witch, he swallowed and licked his lips. She stared out the other window after giving him a cool nod. She would listen but not participate.

Koring was a man with little direct knowledge of the Imperial witches. He had met other witches, of course, but they were not reputed to be able to turn themselves into animals, or to fly like a bat under the full moon like these Great Witches. It was said they were immortal and had lived for centuries. People whispered that their appearance was a fraud, that they were actually hideous, ancient, withered mummies wrapped in fell magic. Koring shivered. In Ryotwa the witches lived quietly, and contented themselves with the work of fields and family. They did not surround the king and his court as they were rumored to do in some cities.

The emperor sat heavily on his seat, looking forward. His face was flushed. He had been in a shell for months following the news of Eigo. Now he was breaking out again, seizing the initiative and regaining his grip.

The horses were whipped up, and the coach began to roll. Pascal waved to the crowd in the square outside the Hotel Cailonne. Then the town was behind them, and they rolled out into the darkened countryside.

The moon had not yet risen, the stars were shining bright.

"We'll be in Ryotwa tomorrow morning, Ambassador, so let us go over the political situation there once again. King Ronsek is a fierce old fellow. I expect he'll try my patience."

Koring laughed tightly. It was all too likely.

"Well, Your Majesty, the king is very keen to have a decision on laying the keels on two new white ships. The builder yards in Ryotwa are in need of the work."

"Yes, of course. Wysse has kept me informed of this matter. The keels will be laid in Ryotwa, as promised. The money for them has been a little hard to find, that is all. Remember that there are a great many projects for the empire to take on. Wherever we can, we seek to improve transport, sanitation, irrigation, throughout the realms of the Argonath as well as on the Isles themselves. All across Kenor we're putting in basic engineering for the new towns that are springing up there."

"That is wonderful news, Your Majesty, the king will be overjoyed. The matter of the keels had preyed on his mind lately."

The coach rolled swiftly on into the night.

The miles rolled past, and the country outside grew wilder. Ambassador Koring did his utmost not to drone on and on, but it was difficult. The emperor asked such exacting questions, requiring such detail, that it was necessary to answer at length. Koring was surprised, then amazed, and finally awed by the emperor's appetite for knowledge and his ability to remember detail while piecing together the complex picture of Ryotwan politics.

Koring also concluded that when it came to the dominant problem of the day, the movement for secession in Aubinas, the emperor was exceptionally well-informed. Emperor Pascal clearly lived up to his reputation as a most formidable sovereign.

"Ryotwa is a small city, Your Majesty, and Ryotwans are simple folk. We lean toward the sea. We look out across the world, where our white ships sail. Our Ship Builders Guild sees a threat from the Aubinan grain magnates, for more expensive grain will lead to less shipping. It's as simple as that with them. But this simplicity is modulated by another feeling, which is our envy of Marneri."

The emperor was nodding. Encouraged, Koring continued.

"Consider how powerful Marneri has grown. She has great provinces, Aubinas just the richest of them. Look at Ryotwa with only the bare bones of Rueda, Selceda and Lacustra. Places of rock and wind, where fishing villages cling to the coastline and potato patches fill the scant fields. Many Ryotwans think Marneri could afford to let the Aubinans go. They think that Marneri could be improved by being reduced in size and power."