The Orb And The Spectre (Book 2) (19 page)

   Prince Anzejarl was sitting down to breakfast in his pavilion when the news was brought to him by one of his commanders. He showed no visible reaction but within himself he knew a strange mixture of emotions as he learned of the deaths of the Duke of Giswel and his men.

   "Were there survivors?" he asked.

   "The majority of footsoldiers and horsemen involved in the initial attack fought their way back to the castle," replied the commander. "Of those that came on for the mine, more than half were killed or injured by the trolls. The others managed to escape. But it was a masterful plan, my Prince. The trolls performed excellently."

   "Injured?" queried Anzejarl. "The trolls took prisoners?"

   The man shook his head. "They ate them. A few they dragged away for later."

   "Then they still live?"

   The commander gave a shrug. "You might call it that."

   "It would be useful to question these men," said Anzejarl. His commander looked dubious. Anzejarl turned to Olmana, who shook her head.

   "It would not be advisable," she said. "You command the trolls but you would be on dangerous ground were you to try to take their meat from them now. There’s a certain primordiality, a sacred and inviolable ritual, which must be observed. The trolls of Enchantment have won a battle, their passions run deep, mingling with instinct. No, Anzejarl, you would excite passions that even you cannot control were you to attempt to take their prizes from them. What could be learned from these prisoners, anyway?"

  
"King Leth's intentions, possibly."

   "I would doubt it." She rose and came to him, draping her arms about his shoulders. "Rejoice, brave Prince. The Duke of Giswel is dead. In a short time now the castle will surely fall."

   But Anzejarl could not find it within him to rejoice. Not because the concept was still relatively new to his psyche, but more that he could find small cause for celebration at the deaths of so many brave men. For some reason he found this unsettling. As with so much else there were deeper aspects to his feelings these days, powerful undercurrents that he could not fathom.

   The commander departed. Anzejarl sat on in silence.

   "You are troubled?" whispered Olmana.

   "I feel so many things."

   "You are still adjusting, still Awakening. But come," she pressed her lips to his neck. "Olmana has ways of comforting your troubled soul."

   "Behind it all, within this dark jungle of emotions, there
lies a void. I feel an unknown. Unanswerable, even unaskable questions assail me. I contemplate emptiness." Anzejarl put his white hands to his face. "Is this part of it too, Olmana? The Awakening? Is this a feeling of being human?"

   Olmana took his hands, kissing him and drawing him to his feet. She backed towards the soft palliasse of their bed, bringing him with her, lowering herself to the cushions and pressing her lips to his thigh. "You are still growing, Anzejarl. What you sense is what has still to be filled. Let me take your mind from these things."

   He moaned with the pleasure of her kisses and her touch, yielding to her even though they had spent themselves in loving only an hour earlier. She drew him down to her, her fingers slipping beneath his garments, seeking, her warm lips touching his. Anzejarl closed his eyes. For an instant, through his pleasure, he glimpsed her in another guise, as he had seen her in his dreams. He recoiled, just momentarily, his eyes opening, staring into hers. Did his dreams tell him something, he wondered. Her lips were on his again, her tongue slid into his mouth, her body pressed against him, her fingers closing around his hardness. He could not resist her. With her free hand she peeled aside her silk gown, took one of his hands and placed it upon her naked breast. He had forgotten what he had seen, had forgotten that he knew that she was not all - or was indeed much more than - she seemed. He could not help himself.

II

   Later she woke him. "There are things we should discuss."

   The light from outside the pavilion told him the morning was well-advanced. He felt easier now. She had done what she had said. He was sharp and untroubled, his mood of earlier dispelled. He barely recalled the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued him.

   "Enchantment's Reach," she said.

   "You want to move against it now?"

  
"Why not? Giswel Holt is no longer a threat. You can leave the siege force in place. The soldiers will not sally forth again so briskly. But now we must move swiftly. The child is not far away, and I will not lose him."

   He saw and heard her passion as she spoke those words.

   "Does Leth have him?"

   "That I have yet to determine. I sense only the life of the child. What of the forward camp, Anzejarl?"

   "I have had no word, but it’s early. The warriors will not have arrived there yet." He risked a question. "Olmana, what is this child you seek?"

   Her eyes flashed. "That is for me to know.
Do not become too curious, Anzejarl. Be warned, it is a trait the Gift bestows, but in this instance at least it is one you will do well to disregard."

   He took the rebuke in silence, eased himself from the cushions, stood and dressed. His gem eyes followed Olmana as she moved about the tent. She was agitated. Strange, that her equanimity seemed to suffer as a result of restoring his. As though she had given something of herself to restore him, and in doing so was temporarily reduced.

   He wanted her again, but she turned and faced him. "What of it? Can you march immediately?"

   He nodded. "I’ll give the order."

NINE

I

   Lord Fectur, High Invigilate and now Absolute Regent of Enchantment's Reach, took proud stock of his day's achievements. It had taken precise planning and much hard work to arrive at the immensely gratifying position he now occupied. He acknowledged that Fortune had aided him, and was the more fortified and reassured for that. All else notwithstanding, he could never have overthrown Leth had not luck sided with him in his endeavours. No matter the support that he, Fectur, had gathered, no matter the doubts voiced so volubly by so many on the matter of King Leth's decisions - in themselves they would not have been enough. To have been able to demonstrate persuasively that the King was no longer in control of
himself was one thing - even if most persons tacitly acknowledged that it was largely a pretext. To have himself installed as Regent - to have taken control of the throne! - was another matter entirely. It had required that extra boost, the validation of Fate.

   Fectur was mightily pleased with himself. But he was not so foolish as to anticipate a smooth ride ahead.

   A dominant consideration nagged: the Queen.

   Her disappearance had been most fortunate. He could hardly have planned it better himself. There seemed little doubt now that she had been captured or murdered by the
Karai. Troops from the Security Cadre, as well as Leth's men, had scoured the forest where her ambush had taken place, and found nothing. What tracks were visible had led away deep into the forest towards the west before they became obscured. As the Queen's body had not been recovered it seemed reasonable to assume that she had been taken; alive or dead.

   If the latter, he had nothing to fear. But the possibility of the former remained a spectral threat. What if the
Karai made contact, demanding terms for her release? Could he keep it quiet? Or contrive by some means to ensure that the Karai did not succeed in returning her? At any cost, she could not be allowed to return. She would undo everything; all he had achieved would be chaff in the wind.

   He briefly consoled himself with the knowledge that for the
Karai negotiations of such a nature were unheard of. Their campaign to date had consisted solely of warfare and conquest. They showed little interest in the overtures of their adversaries, irrespective of the incentives offered. Not a single monarch or envoy of the overrun Mondane Kingdoms had succeeded in establishing useful communications with Prince Anzejarl, or even his subordinates, prior to conquest. But to Fectur's knowledge the Karai had never before held such an important hostage. Would it change anything? No word had been received at Enchantment's Reach, leading him to assume not. But Fectur needed to make contact with Prince Anzejarl if he was to survive. He believed he had, almost within his grasp, the leverage to break the Karai prince's customary silence. But he could not permit any negotiations over the Queen.

   Fectur wondered about Anzejarl's motives. Was he content simply to raze, plunder and subdue? It seemed not, for Fectur accepted that there was almost certainly a link with the Legendary Child. It was as good as established that Anzejarl had the support and protection of a god, implying a deific interest in the Child. It was a daunting thought. Could Fectur really hope to sway a god from its chosen path? He would have to be utterly sure of the god's motives. Even he balked at this. Was it possible to know the mind of a god?

   Perhaps, he thought, for he had a few of the right kind of indications.

   Fectur returned his mind to his most immediate concerns. Leth was his first and most pressing problem. Disposing of the King - utterly necessary, demanding swift action - was something of an obstacle. An accident, perhaps a spectacular suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed, would serve. It had to be carefully and convincingly managed in order to retain the loyalty of a strong majority of supporters. But there were important matters to attend to before he could terminate Leth.
Most urgently, Leth's outburst at the Special Assembly, his outrageous assertion of knowledge of Enchantment's gods and of Enchantment itself. Though he had spoken in the heat of the moment, that in itself was not reason to dismiss his words. The contrary, in fact. Impassioned, he had given every impression of having blurted out far more than he had intended. And the words he had spoken carried resonances that were potentially too momentous to be disregarded without serious investigation.

   Was it possible that Leth held a great secret, was somehow
party to extraordinary knowledge?

   The thought had not left Fectur alone.
'The gods as you claim to know them do not exist. You, or those who went before you, have created them. Those beings that do exist within Enchantment, though they may as well be gods, yet know nothing of you. Nor would they care if they did.
'

  
The words of a madman? Fectur had never considered Leth mad. But the implications . . . .

   Had Leth communed with gods?

   How else could he know anything of Enchantment? Or was it bluff? Had he spoken simply to quiet the faction heads? It was a perilous ploy, if so. And no, Fectur was convinced from Leth's manner that he had unintentionally let the words slip, or at least had not given proper consideration to their impact.

   As one the faction heads had turned on Fectur, demanding the truth. They wanted Leth brought before them to explain himself. Fectur had temporized, using the planned overthrow of the King to divert them. He had promised a full enquiry but then, with Leth ousted, had declared him to be in no fit state to meet them. He could not stall them for long. They were impatient, clamouring. They were not oblivious to the fact that Fectur wished to get to the King first.

   But how? If Leth had secrets he would not give them up willingly. In Fectur's dungeons, of course, it would be a different story, but there was a certain protocol to be observed. Fectur's position was not one that invested in him the authority to commit torture upon the royal person. Not yet.

   He had given much thought to Leth's behaviour of late. Almost coincident to his accession to rule the King had taken to shutting himself away in his study whenever an opportunity offered.
Moreso in recent months. It was a place to which Fectur lacked access. Fectur had initiated covert enquiries, keen to discover - unknowingly like Issul before him - whether Leth was engaged in magical studies. But his efforts drew a blank. No teacher was found, nor any evidence of Leth's having installed the associated paraphernalia of esoterica. Leth always went alone to his study. His voice had been heard within, but no other person had ever exited.

  
Symptoms of withdrawal and depression, perhaps? The burden of his responsibilities bearing too oppressively upon him? Fectur shook his head. He was not happy with that.

   There was also the matter of Leth's insistence upon meeting with Grey Venger, his excitement over the Legendary Child and its connection with the True Sept.
And his infuriating secrecy regarding the content of his conversations with Venger. What had he said now? That Venger's attempt upon his life had been a sham to bring about the advent of the Legendary Child? And that the Sept and/or Grey Venger still had vital information to impart.

   Fectur mulled over all this. He had to know everything, rapidly, by whatever means necessary. Hence he was unable to entirely rule out torture upon the King.
As a last resort. Or perhaps more effectively upon the sweet little Prince and Princess. He was greatly skilled, after all, and could deliver the most terrible excruciations without leaving an incriminating mark. In fact, the threat to the children’s welfare might be sufficient in itself to loosen Leth's tongue. The priority would then be to ensure that neither Leth nor his infants could blab about it to others - or at least that they would not be believed.

   Yes, he would take that path if need be. First, though, he would have a little chat with Grey Venger.

II

   Venger had been housed in the lowest level of the palace of Orbia, in the warren of passages, cells and grim, hopeless chambers that comprised the dungeons of Fectur's Ministry of Realm Security. Here men and women languished in terrible solitude in tiny, cold, lightless locked cubicles or iron cages. Some were forgotten, others were destined for unimaginable attentions. Most accepted that they would never leave that place. Many prayed that they would soon be allowed to die.

   Grey Venger occupied a cell set somewhat apart from the others, though not so far as to deprive him of the sounds of the sufferings of his neighbours. He was chained to the wall by wrists and ankles, spreadeagled naked against the harsh stone.

   His head was slumped upon his taut chest as Fectur entered. He looked up, squinnying his eyes against the dazzle of the Lord High Invigilate's torch. Fectur set the torch in a bracket upon the opposite wall then turned and surveyed his prisoner.

   "I think we have things to discuss."

   "I think we have nothing to discuss, Lord Invigilate Spectre, Oppressor of the Righteous, Corruptor of the Good," sneered Grey Venger, his eyes glazed. "I think there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that the Grey Venger has to say to one as low, insignificant and contemptible as you."

   "Now don't be like that," replied Fectur, not in the least discomposed. "After all, I am sure we have much to exchange. In the light of the changes that have occurred I think you will find yourself much more willing to talk to me."

   Venger's vision focused. "What changes?"

   Fectur waited on a half-breath. Venger knew nothing of the abrupt shift in the balance of power at Enchantment's Reach. It was perhaps expedient to keep him
guessing. "Oh, just one or two things, the nature of which I may reveal to you in due course. It all depends on yourself, of course, as I'm sure you can appreciate."

   Grey Venger produced a pained, mocking smirk. "This is all as I had anticipated; you know that, don't you? I did not trust Leth's word.
Ever. I knew that if he failed to get all he wanted then this was what I could expect. But it truly makes no difference to anything. I would not have come if it did."

   Fectur considered this. Could he make use of Venger's conviction that Leth was behind his betrayal? He kept it in mind.

   Venger's eyes were narrowed and hard. "Do what you will, Great and Mighty Spectre. It will bring you nothing. No amount of pain you inflict will affect me. Never will you know the satisfaction of hearing me beg for mercy. You will learn nothing of what you want to know. The Grey Venger is far above creatures such as you. Some things you can never comprehend."

   Staring deep into Grey Venger's eyes, Fectur saw the truth in the first part of that statement. The noble art of torture would be wasted on this man. He had lived a life so attuned to denial that he was probably no longer capable of even feeling pain. Or if he felt it he would rejoice in it. For a moment Fectur was lost for words.

   "You would give so much to be like me, would you not?" said Venger with satisfaction. "But you could never. No, not one like you you. I am beyond you. Far beyond."

  
Surely there are tortures that would suit this man?

   Fectur smiled grimly, his anger barely contained. "We will see."

   Venger smiled once more, and for a heartbeat Fectur felt the unbearable certainty that he knew his thoughts. He shifted his weight, linked his hands behind his back. "I had hoped we would speak of the Legendary Child, further the progress you have made with King Leth."

   Venger scoffed. "Speak further? When Leth has broken his word and thrown me here, given me to you like a man throws scraps to a starving hound? There is nothing more to be said,
High and Mighty. Leave me, or do your worst. It will avail you nothing."

   Fectur wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Believe it or not, Venger, it brings me no pleasure to see you here. I am a servant of the Crown, bound to adhere to the King's wishes. He has given up on you. His orders to me are to extract whatever you know, by any means. I advised against extreme measures, but King Leth has lately taken to disregarding the advice of even his closest confidants. But it does not mean that you and I can’t talk. I consider you to be of tremendous importance at this time.
The True Sept also. I would rather see you walk out of here than be carried out in a shroud. And you, I am sure, wish in your heart to be witness to the events your people have prophesied for so long."

   Venger watched him. Fectur clenched his jaw. He was walking on fragile ground, for he knew almost nothing of what had passed between Grey Venger and King Leth. Yet he had to know whatever Venger knew, and if torture was not the medium then perhaps his enemy would respond to another approach.

   "You believe I wish in my heart to witness your doom, and the doom of all like you?" said Venger. "Yes, you are correct in that at least. My one regret as I am chained here is that I may not witness the deaths of the Unbelievers. But the Grey Venger has played the part that was his to play, and nothing else matters now. The One True God will acknowledge my devotion when his power is restored."