The Phoenix Guards (27 page)

Authors: Steven Brust

BOOK: The Phoenix Guards

8.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

But that which was to be awaited occurred, or, to be precise, there was the sudden, unmistakable
crack
that is the discharge of a flash-stone. Uttrik, who had stood to battle before, and thus could anticipate the ringing in the ears of those who were close to the sound, used the time after it to draw his sword. Khaavren and Aerich, observing this, took no longer to arm themselves, and, moreover, each took his own flash-stone into his left hand.

Uttrik said, “I believe, my lords, it is time to charge them.”

“Well,” said Aerich with a shrug. “I believe the honor of the command is yours.”

“I agree,” said Khaavren.

“Well, then I am about to give the order.”

“Do so,” said Khaavren, “we are with you.”

“Then charge them,” he cried, and, with these words, Uttrik leaped up the slope, Khaavren and Aerich at his very heels. Even before they were noticed they heard the sounds of cries and of ringing steel from the other side of the road. Those they attacked had focused their attention on the commotion on the other side of the road, and thus had their backs well exposed to the three who bore down on them.

Khaavren frowned when he realized that, whatever their position, his first blow would be to the back of a man who was not expecting such an attack. He set this consideration aside, however, and was on the point of preparing to strike, when Aerich said in loud and carrying voice, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but it would really be best if you were to surrender your weapons.”

Khaavren had the distinct impression of several faces staring at him in amazement, then in disbelief, while for an instant no one moved. Then someone made a motion, small in itself, the turn of a foot, the readjustment of a hand upon a pommel, but, like the pebble that launches the rock-slide, it was enough.

Khaavren’s arm, which seemed to be commanded directly by his eye without the commands having to pass through any apparatus on the way, struck out once, then again, and he felt himself suddenly in midst of a storm of steel that whirled around him and threatened to sweep him away; he entered that state where wounds, given or received, are unreal, for all that matters is the constantly evolving pattern of motion in which the broadest actions are subtleties, and finest adjustments of detail are grand strokes; here a half turn to the left, there a cut to the right, here an adjustment to ward off a blow with the dagger, there a twist to disarm, until, in what seemed to be no time at all except for the powerful though fragmented array of memory-images which assembled themselves for the consideration of his mind, all was quiet again, and Khaavren stood upon the field of battle, in the middle of the road, with his friends all whole and sound, save for a few scratches.

What actually happened was this: the ambuscade had been set up with fifteen of the enemy on either side of the road. As Uttrik had foreseen, one
of them had been hidden near the inn and had raced back to tell the others that their enemies were departing, but were only walking their horses. Uttrik’s plan had worked so well, in fact, that Baaro’s troops, if we may so call them, had not even begun to feel impatient when Pel, having decided that enough time had passed, released the heavy charge from his flash-stone.

Baaro’s troops were heavily bunched together, so that the charge, while only killing one of them, stunned or wounded another five, while three more bolted down the road in terror so that there were only six of them remaining on that side of the road. It should be noted that the charge was of sufficient strength that Pel himself, in addition to being nearly deafened by the report, had to take a moment to recover, but, fortunately, Tazendra did not; her greatsword was ready to hand, and before the six remaining brigands had recovered from the shock she had brought two of them to the ground, including Baaro himself, whom she killed with a single blow to the collar.

The remaining four were able to put themselves into a defensive position, and things might have gone poorly for Tazendra except that Mica, who had positioned himself on a rock ledge next to them and slightly higher than they, struck one such a blow on the head with his faithful bar-stool that the outlaw went down at once, and, at the same time, Pel, who had by now recovered and drawn his weapon, made a ferocious charge and, after dueling with one for the length of three passes, stuck his blade through the woman’s thigh, so that she was stretched out full length on the road. He and Tazendra turned to the remaining two, who put up token resistance for only a moment before turning and running down the road as fast as they could.

Tazendra and Pel immediately rushed across the road. Now on that side, the battle was going in earnest, for though Khaavren had wounded one with his flash-stone (without even being aware of it), Aerich’s had failed to discharge. They were at once forced into a defensive battle, with Aerich, at the point of the triangle they formed, calmly knocking away blows with his vambraces and turning to strike only when he had a clear opening; in this way he had severely wounded two attackers. Uttrik, who fought with two longswords, found himself rather cramped by the defensive nature of the engagement, yet he had managed to kill one of his opponents who had been thrown off-balance by Aerich, and injure another who had become impatient with the ferocity of the defense.

Khaavren was fighting with sword and poniard, the latter drawn without thinking as soon as his flash-stone was expended, and he made full use of the confusion brought about by the other two; that is, he darted in and out of them, ducked below thrusts to cut up, turned fully around to strike from unexpected angles, laughed in the faces of his enemies, and in this way had brought one opponent to the ground with a cut to the side while inflicting dozens of minor cuts and scratches with which to teach the enemy respect for his blades.

There were, then, nine against three, and all would have been over quickly had the brigands organized themselves rather than getting in each other’s way. In fact, they were attempting to coordinate a rush at the moment when Pel and Tazendra arrived from the other side and attacked them from behind. Being attacked from behind twice in one battle was, it seems, more than they could face, for, after Tazendra had killed one with a crushing blow to the top of his head, they broke in confusion and disorder, leaving the field, as it were, to the five companions and Mica. The Teckla, we should add, seemed, after having delivered his blow, as cool as Aerich himself.

These six worthies, then, looked about them at the dead and wounded and Khaavren said, “Well, I nearly think it is time to continue our journey.”

“The horses,” said Aerich, “are this way.”

Thus, with their first battle behind them, they retrieved their horses, mounted, and made their way safely past the scene of the carnage and continued toward Redface, home of Adron e’Kieron, and refuge, so they believed, of Kathana e’Marish’Chala.

Chapter the Twenty-fourth

In Which it is Shown that Three Copper Pennies,
Well Spent, Are More Valuable
Than Sixty Orbs,
Carelessly Applied

O
NE MIGHT SUPPOSE THAT, HAVING arrived at the very doorstep, as it were, of Redface Castle, the remaining few leagues would present little problem, especially as there was a road that ran in that direction. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. The road, after a short distance, began to divide, and to divide again and then again. It was known by Uttrik, whose home in the Pepperfields had not been far from Bli’aard, that most of the roads spent themselves at farms, quarries, streams, caves, or against blank walls, and a few even ended in pits, or at the top of sudden cliffs. This was one of the means of defense devised by Maalics e’Kieron, who, back in the fifth cycle, had conquered the region and begun construction of the Castle. Uttrik, who was acquainted with the region in general, was no help in this problem.

Nor, we must say, were the populace in any way helpful. Several times the companions asked after directions, and even paid for them, only to have the guide disappear. As their frustration mounted, they increased the payments, and augmented them with threats of various sorts, but to no avail.

“Do you think,” said Uttrik, “that this is the way strangers are always treated in these mountains?”

“Well,” said Khaavren, “you may remember that word has been put out against us. It may be that we are fortunate to avoid an attack by these peasants, rather than merely having lost some sixty orbs.”

“But then,” said Uttrik, “it seems we could wander these mountains for days before finding the correct path, which annoys me, inasmuch as, each time we come to place where there are no trees to block the sky, I can see the walls of the castle as plainly as I see the sky itself.”

“Well,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan, then?”

“We will kill a few of these peasants by hanging them up from trees, and that will make the others respect us.”

“Bah,” said Aerich. “We are visiting Lord Adron, whose vassals these are. He will hardly thank us. And, moreover, we might never emerge from these hills, as the peasants are many, dislike strangers, are leagued against us, and may become violent at any moment.”

“Well then,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan?”

“My plan is to return to the inn, send a message up to the castle, and ask to be guided. We are gentlemen; there is no reason for Lord Adron to refuse us the guide.”

“I can think of one reason,” said Khaavren.

“What is that?”

“That he is not here, but is, as we’ve been told, in Dragaera City.”

“Ah, that is true,” said Aerich, momentarily startled. “I had forgotten this circumstance.”

“Then,” said Tazendra, “listen to my plan.”

“Yes,” said the others, “let us listen to Tazendra’s plan.”

“We will send Mica to investigate, and as he is a peasant himself, the peasants will speak to him, and he will find out.”

“Bah,” said Pel, “he wears your livery, and will thus be recognized.”

“We can remove the livery.”

“That smacks of concealment,” said Aerich, frowning.

“Moreover,” said Pel, “to these mountain people he is still a stranger, and thus will have no better luck than we have had.”

“Very well,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan?”

“My plan is very simple. We will return to the inn, take the innkeeper captive, or, indeed, any of these peasants, and make our captive, on pain of his life, reveal the correct path. Moreover, we will take him with us, on the understanding that his life is forfeit if he guides us wrong. What do you think of this plan?”

“For my part,” said Tazendra, “I am not far from adopting Pel’s idea.”

“Nor am I,” said Uttrik.

Mica, who seemed relieved at any plan which did not require him to remove his livery, maintained a respectful silence, but agreement could be discerned on his features.

“And,” said Aerich, coolly, “if he should believe his duty more important than his life, will you kill him, for the crime of being loyal to his master?”

“Oh,” said Pel, “as to that—”

“And besides,” Aerich continued, “you know how I feel about any adventure that resembles taking hostages.”

“Hostages,” put in Uttrik, “are a legitimate part of warfare.”

“Entirely true,” said Aerich. “But do you pretend that we are at war with Lord Adron?”

“Well,” said Tazendra, “we are not far from it. We have thrown away sixty good silver orbs, which is enough to make me set my teeth hard in my jaw.”

“Nevertheless—” began Aerich.

“But, good Aerich,” began Khaavren, “we cannot wander these mountains forever.”

“There is no need to,” said the Lyorn with a smile.

“And why is that?”

“Because we have not yet heard your plan.”

“What, my plan?”

“Yes, yes,” said Tazendra. “Tell us your plan, Khaavren.”

“You insist I have a plan, then?” said the Tiassa, with a small smile upon his lips.

“It is true,” said Pel, “that you always have a plan.”

Khaavren said, “Well, you’re right, I do.”

“Then,” said Uttrik, “please be good enough to tell us what it is, and, if we like it, we shall adopt it.”

“Well, my plan is that we take this path.”

“This one?” said Tazendra. “Why this one and not any of the others.”

“Because this path, and none of the others, has a dead horse lying along it at a distance of thirty yards from where we stand, and, unless I am mistaken, the saddle of that horse shows that it is from the post.”

“Well?” said Uttrik. “And so?”

“And so, it looks as if the poor beast was ridden to death by a messenger, who was consequently in a hurry. Now, I would think a messenger would know the right path, and, moreover, a messenger in a hurry would be likely to be going to Redface, instead of anywhere else in the accursed mountains. There, what do you think of my plan?”

Uttrik, who had not known Khaavren as long as the others, stared at him in frank amazement. Aerich said, “Your head, my friend, is as long as your sword, and quite as sharp.”

“Well,” said Tazendra, “let us then take this path at once.”

The castle of Redface, home of His Highness Adron e’Kieron, Dragon Heir to the Throne, Duke of Eastmanswatch, Count of Korio and Sky, etc. etc., remains one of the masterpieces of engineering, ranking with the floating castles of the e’Drien line (of which only Castle Black survives to this day) and possibly with Dzur Mountain, if the mystery behind that strange enclave is ever solved. To begin with, it consists, quite literally, of miles of walls, with irregularly placed towers looking out in all directions. These walls, be it understood, are both thick and high, and, moreover, so perfectly match the shape of the mountain into which they are built that it is as if the mountain itself created them out of its own rock before graciously allowing the progeny of Kieron the Conqueror, oldest and proudest of the Dragon lines, to construct a home therein.

To the south, there is the Redface itself, a drop of more than two thousand feet into the Eastern River, or more exactly, onto the rocks that stick up from the river and cause its treacherous back-currents and white waters. To the west, there is the comparatively gentle slope of Mount Bli’aard leading down to the nearest city, that being Troe, or what was then called Bengloarafurd. To the north the mountain rises a little further, to a string of watch-posts that have been manned by the House of the Dragon for thousands of years, leading off to Mount Kieron, and, further, to the high plateau of Pepperfield, before dropping to the Valley of Salt, beyond which lies
the region of Sandyhome. To the east there are the distant peaks of the Ironwall and Whitecrown which lead to the lands of the Easterners.

The castle consists of several large buildings, all connected by a cunning series of tunnels designed to allow supplies to move quickly and easily to any position along the wall, as well as to provide homes for both the Imperial garrison that is always stationed there and the standing army which the Duke, by custom and right, maintains to protect his position. The keep of Lord Redface, as it is sometimes called—that is, if our readers will pardon the confusion, the master of the keep is sometimes called Lord Redface, and thus his dwelling is sometimes called the keep of Lord Redface—this keep, we say, is the tallest of the structures, and located in the center of the maze of courtyards and substructures, built with nine towers, and surrounded by its own series of walls, gates, and watch-stations.

As our friends traveled the road to the castle, Khaavren, Tazendra and Pel were traveling in the front rank, with Aerich and Uttrik bringing up the rear, along with Mica, who appeared to enjoy the conversation of Aerich, consisting as it did of long silences punctuated by short silences. Shortly before arriving at the outer wall, Tazendra suddenly announced to Khaavren and Pel, “I have been wondering again.”

Pel shrugged. “I had thought you had given over such activities.”

“Well, I seem unable to stop myself.”

“It is a sign of intelligence,” sad Khaavren, “to be unable to stop wondering.”

“Is it indeed?” said Tazendra, who was greatly pleased by this thought.

“Entirely.”

“Well, that is good; I had suspected I was intelligent, now I know that I am, and because of it—”

“Well?”

“I will continue to wonder.”

“That is right,” said Khaavren.

“And yet, I should like an answer to the question that has been knocking about my head so insistently.”

“I understand your annoyance,” said Pel, “but I beg you to reconsider.”

“Reconsider?”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“Because, if you ask your question, it might be answered.”

“Well, but that is what I want.”

“No,” said Pel, “it is not.”

“How, it is not?”

“Not the least in the world, I assure you.”

“But it seems to me that is just why I want to ask the question.”

“And you are wrong to do so,” said Pel promptly.

“But, will you tell me why?”

“I should be delighted to do so.”

“Then I am listening.”

“Well, here it is: if your question is answered, you will no longer wonder.”

“Well, and then?”

“Why, didn’t you just say that you wished to keep wondering, because wondering is the proof of intelligence?”

“Oh, but there is no worry on that score, Pel.”

“Why not, Tazendra?”

“Because, to anticipate the future as being like the past—”

“Which it often is, I think.”

“Yes, exactly. Well, to anticipate the future as being like the past, I think that after you have answered my question, I will be forced to continue wondering just the same.”

Pel, who could only agree with the extreme justice of this remark, fell silent, and Khaavren said, “Well then, tell us what you are wondering about.”

“I will do so. It is this: what will we do when we have arrived at the castle of Redface?”

“We will ask to speak to Lord Adron,” said Khaavren. “There, you see, you are answered.”

“But, dear Khaavren, it is just as I expected.”

“How?”

“Because it only makes me wonder more.”

“What? You have more to wonder about?”

“I do, indeed. What do you say to that?”

“That I had no idea you were so intelligent.”

“Well, it is true that my second cousin on my mother’s side, Deraff, was a tactician.”

“You say, was?”

“Yes,” said Tazendra, “he was killed in an ambuscade on his first campaign.”

“That is too bad.”

“Yes, I have always thought so. But it shows there is intelligence in my family.”

“Well, I agree with you,” said Khaavren.

“And then,” continued Tazendra, “it seems to me that if one is bandy-legged, or long in the arm, or tall in the body, that often one’s forebears are as well; and therefore, why should not high intelligence also be something that is preserved within a family?”

“I think you are entirely correct,” said Pel.

“You agree?”

“I have said so.”

“Then, I am convinced of my intelligence.”

“Well,” said Khaavren, “of that there can be no more doubt.”

“And yet,” said Pel, “I am anxious to learn what Tazendra now has cause to wonder about.”