The Redemption of Althalus (45 page)

“Oh?”

“Ghend’s henchman, Koman, shares Leitha’s gift, and if Khalor’s anywhere on the battlefield, Koman will pick up any order he gives before it even leaves his mouth. Koman
can’t
hear anything that happens here, though.”

“Won’t it be a little hard for Khalor to give orders from here in the House, though? He can shout fairly loudly, but that’s a long way down, Em.”

“That’s why we’re going to need another door.” She reached out and patted the stone wall beside the window. “Right here, I think. It won’t be quite like the other doors in the House, so you’d better make it look a bit different so that Eliar knows that it’s sort of special.”

“Where’s it supposed to go, Em?”

“Where we want it to go—usually to the spot Khalor can see from the window. Eliar’s going to carry his Sergeant’s orders to our forces down there on the ground.”

“I don’t see much advantage to that, Em. Koman can hear Eliar as well as he can hear Khalor, can’t he?”

“Only if he knows where Eliar is, and if Eliar’s using our door, he’ll be popping in and out so fast that Koman won’t be able to home in on him. We’ll experiment a bit, but let’s get the door in place. Make it an arch, Althalus, and give it brass hinges and an ornate handle so that Eliar knows that it’s no ordinary door. Use ‘
peri.
’ It’s a bit more formal, and we’ll use the word ‘portal’ when we speak of it, instead of the word ‘door.’ It’s important for Eliar to think of it differently. Make the door, Althalus.”

“Whatever you say, Em.” He thought back and remembered an arched doorway he’d seen in Dweia’s temple in Maghu. He concentrated on that image and said, “
Peri.
”

“Very nice, Althalus,” she complimented him when the door appeared. “I think that’s exactly what we want.” Then she turned and looked across the room to where Eliar and Gher were sitting. Gher was talking excitedly, and Eliar looked a bit confused.

“Eliar,” Dweia said, “come over here to the window. I want to show you something.”

“Right away, Emmy,” Eliar replied, coming to his feet.

“The rest of you should probably look as well,” she told the others in the room.

They all trooped on over to the window.

“A new door?” Andine observed. “Where does this one go?”

“Down there,” Leitha replied, gesturing toward the window.

“That’s not Kagwher, is it?” Bheid asked, peering out the window.

“No,” Dweia told him. “It’s northern Wekti, and it’s probably where we’ll be fighting the Ansus. This new portal’s not like the other doors in the House. They’re attached to a specific place, but this one opens any place we’ll want it to. When the battles begin, we’re going to station Sergeant Khalor at this window, and Eliar’s going to carry his orders down to the battlefield.” She looked at Leitha. “How long does it usually take you to home in on one specific person’s thought, dear?”

“That depends on where he is and how many other people are around him, Dweia—and how noisy things are in the vicinity,” Leitha replied. “I think it’d be very difficult in the middle of a battle.”

“I thought so myself. If Eliar uses this door to carry Sergeant Khalor’s orders to the men on the ground, he’ll be there and back before Koman can even begin to locate him.”

“Excuse me,” Gher said. “Did I understand what you were saying, Emmy?” he asked. “I mean is that door beside the window
really
the door to any place at all?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“And to Everywhen, too? I mean, could Eliar go to that big church in Keiwon thirty years ago through
that
one door?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“What a neat door!” Gher exclaimed. “Why don’t you try that thing we were just talking about with this special door, Eliar?”

“We could try it, I suppose,” Eliar said dubiously. He frowned. “I’m not sure what that place would look like.”

“I don’t think it’d look like anything at all, Eliar. That’s sort of what it means. Try it, and let’s see what happens.”

“All right, Gher.” Eliar’s eyes went distant, and he reached for the ornate brass handle.

The door suddenly changed. The brass hinges and solid planks disappeared, and the archway became a formless hole filled with absolute darkness.

“NO!”
Dweia’s voice was almost a scream.

“I was only trying—” Eliar started to explain.

“Stop. Push that thought away! And don’t
ever
do that again!” The very walls seemed to shake with the intensity of her voice.

Eliar flinched back, and the portal returned to its former state.

“What did you do, Eliar?” Andine demanded.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Eliar defended himself. “Gher wanted to see what the door to Nowhere and Nowhen looked like.”

“Stay completely away from that idea, Eliar!” Dweia commanded. “Don’t ever even
think
about it again.”

“It can’t be all
that
dangerous, can it?” Gher sounded a bit frightened.

“
Think,
Gher. Think about what you just asked Eliar to do. What would lie beyond that door he almost opened?”

“Nothing all that dangerous. Wouldn’t it just be empty? I wanted to see what nothing looked like. I’d been thinking about Everywhere and Everywhen, and I turned the idea over to look at the other side of it. That’s when I got the notion of Nowhere and Nowhen. Wouldn’t that just be the door to Empty?”

“Exactly. Emptiness is hungry, Gher, so it swallows whatever comes near it—people, houses, moons, suns, and stars. Stop experimenting, Gher. From now on, don’t even mention these wild ideas to Eliar until you’ve talked them over with me first. The door you just told him about is the one door we
never
open.”

“I wish I had a donkey,” Eliar said, grunting under the weight of the keg he was carrying along the streets of the cow town of Kherdon in north-western Plakand.

“We’ve got one,” Khalor told him with a grin. “His name’s Eliar.”

“How did you meet this man we’ve come to see?” Althalus asked the Sergeant.

“We were on the same side in a war a few years back,” Khalor replied. “We worked out some coordinated tactics to use against the army of Kapro up in Equero. My infantry would hold the Kapros in one place, and Kreuter’s cavalry would hit them from behind.”

“That’s his name?”

“Kreuter, yes. He’s a Tribal Chief over in eastern Plakand. He’s primarily a cattleman, but he picks up money on the side by hiring his horsemen out to fight wars in the civilized lands. After the Plakands heard about how the clans of Arum were getting rich as mercenaries, they decided to give it a try themselves. Kreuter and I get along well together. I know I can trust him, so he’s the one I thought of when I came up with the idea of hitting the Ansus from the rear with cavalry. If Kreuter tells me he’s going to be someplace at a certain time, I know he’ll be there when I need him.”

“You’ve made a lot of contacts over the years, haven’t you, Sergeant?”

“I’ve been in a lot of wars in a lot of places, Althalus, so I’ve got friends in most of the low countries.”

“Are you sure this Kreuter’s going to be here?”

“He comes here every summer to sell cows to the cattle buyers from the civilized lands. If he isn’t here yet, he’s on his way—or he’s just left. I’ll check around town and find out. If he hasn’t arrived—or he’s on his way home—we’ll be able to chase him down. Those doors were
made
for this sort of thing.” Khalor stopped in front of a log building with a crudely painted sign representing a bunch of grapes hanging over the front door. “This is Kreuter’s favorite tavern,” he said. “Let’s try here first.”

Inside, the tavern was a dingy place with a strong smell about it. Although it was still early morning, there were a fair number of noisy patrons.

“We’re in luck,” Khalor said. “That’s Kreuter over there in the corner.” He squinted at the big man seated on a rough bench. “Better yet, he seems to be fairly sober. Let’s go talk with him.”

They pushed their way through the crowd to where the burly Chief sat. Kreuter had muddy blond hair and a beard that appeared to have been squared-off at the bottom with a sharp knife. He had oxlike shoulders and huge hands.

“Well, bless me if it isn’t my old friend Khalor!” the burly man said. “What are you doing here in Plakand, Khalor?”

“Looking for you, as a matter of fact. How’ve you been lately?”

“Can’t complain. What’s afoot?”

“Have you sold your cows yet?”

“Just yesterday. I thought I’d take a few days off to celebrate before I rounded up my men for the trip home.”

“I caught you before you got too far along, then. Have you got any serious plans for the next month or so?”

“Not really. Is something in the wind?”

“I’ve got a little war in the works. I think I’m going to need some cavalry, and I thought of you right off. Are you interested?”

“We can talk about it. Where
is
this war of yours, Khalor? My men and I just finished a long cattle drive, so if your war’s over in Perquaine, the money’d have to be very good.”

“The money’s good, Kreuter, and the war’s almost on your doorstep.”

“Oh? I haven’t heard any noises of that kind lately. Where is it?”

“North Wekti.”

“There’s nothing in Wekti worth fighting about.”

“Except for its location. The southern Ansus seem to have gotten bored with life, so they decided to sweep down through Wekti to make a strike into Medyo and Equero for fun and profit. The people I’m working for would rather the Ansus didn’t, and they certainly don’t want the war crashing around inside their cities. I’ve set up a defense line across northern Wekti to hold back the invasion. If we leave it that way, I’m looking at a long, tedious summer.”

“So you want me to come at them from the rear, I take it?” Kreuter surmised.

“It worked when we fought the Kapros,” Khalor said with a shrug. “The Ansus are going to be piled up against my fortifications, so they won’t be able to get away from you when you hit them from behind. I’m getting paid for the job, not by the day, so there’s no point in dragging it out.”

Kreuter squinted at the ceiling. “The Ansus aren’t really as good as they seem to think they are, and their horses are pretty scrubby,” he mused. “Is the pay good?”

“I’m not complaining about it.”

“A short war for good pay, and home by autumn, eh, Khalor?”

“If we can work it that way.”

“I think you can count me in, my friend.”

“I’ll need to have you in position in five days,” Khalor told him, “and I’d like to have you swing out wide to the east, so the Ansus won’t know you’re coming.”

“You’re being obvious, Khalor. I know how to do this. Now, then, let’s talk about the pay. How long’s it going to be until I see some money?”

“About as long as it’s going to take this young fellow here to get his wooden purse open,” Khalor replied with a broad grin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a wooden purse before,” Kreuter said.

“It’s all the rage lately, Chief Kreuter,” Althalus told him. “Open the purse, Eliar, and let’s get down to business
here.”

“It’s sort of expected, Exarch Yeudon,” Chief Albron said apologetically as they trooped into the fairly spacious apartment the priests of Kherdhos had prepared for the Arum Chief. “Ever since the clans of Arum started fighting wars in the civilized lands, we’ve been contaminated by their way of thinking. To be perfectly honest with you, I’d have preferred to leave these servants at home. I don’t
need
page boys or a resident soothsayer when I’m fighting a war, but for some reason, appearances have gotten to be more important than reality.”

“It’s the curse of civilization, Chief Albron,” Yeudon said. He smiled faintly. “If you think an Arum Chief is burdened with servants, try the life of a high-ranking churchman.” Then he looked curiously at the robed and hooded figure of Leitha. “Do you Arums
really
put much store in soothsayers?” he asked.

“We used to. Some of the more backward Chiefs won’t even change their shirts without consulting their soothsayer first. I’ve more or less outgrown that. If it’s all right, I’ll leave my page boys, soothsayer, and valet here when I go up to the trenches. Speaking of that, I’d better change into my work clothes and get started. The Exarch of the Black Robes didn’t hire me for my social graces.”

“I’ll leave you to your preparations then, Chief Albron,” Yeudon said. He bowed slightly and then left the apartment.

“You’re very smooth, Chief Albron,” Andine said approvingly, looking around the rather splendidly furnished apartment. The Arya of Osthos wore scarlet livery identical to Gher’s, and her long hair was tucked up under her baglike cap.

“I’ve occasionally visited the civilized world, Princess,” Albron said, shrugging, “so I know how the game’s supposed to be played.”

“Are you picking up any hints of Ghend’s spies, Leitha?” Bheid asked the hooded blond girl.

“Quite a few,” she replied, pushing back her hood. “Ghend has a few people over in the palace of the Natus, but they’re mostly concentrated here in the temple. Ghend seems to know that Natus Dhakrel doesn’t loom very large here in Wekti.”

“Is there anything significant afoot here in the temple?” Althalus asked her.

“Not really. The ones Ghend’s planted here are spies, not plotters. I wouldn’t advise sharing too much with Yeudon, though. A couple of Ghend’s people are quite close to him, and he might let a few things slip.”

“We’d more or less planned to keep him at a distance anyway,” Albron said. “You’d better pull your hood up again, Leitha,” he advised.

“It’s a little warm,” she complained.

“I’m sorry, but an Arum soothsayer always keeps his face concealed. I guess it’s supposed to add to the mystery.” He laughed slightly. “That’s what gave me the idea of disguising you as a soothsayer in the first place. Chief Twengor’s father had a soothsayer who guided him for thirty years, and it wasn’t until after that soothsayer died that they discovered that she wasn’t a man.”

“It’s better than pasting on a false beard, Leitha,” Andine said.

“I was sort of looking forward to swashing and buckling and twirling my mustache,” Leitha said, sounding slightly disappointed.