The Redemption of Althalus (64 page)

“The invaders are a little gaunt,” Althalus told him. “The clans of Smeugor and Tauri have set fire to the fields, so there isn’t much for the invaders to eat.”

“I wouldn’t have thought Smeugor and Tauri have enough brains to come up with that.”

“They don’t, really. Their troop commanders took care of it.”

“I should have known. How good are the walls of this Kadon place?”

“Better than they were before Sergeant Khalor made a few suggestions,” Eliar replied.

“That’s Khalor for you,” Laiwon said drily. “I take it that he wants me to just sit out this siege?”

“Right,” Althalus told him. “As long as you hold Kadon, you’ll keep a third of the invading army tied up.”

“Rather boring,” Laiwon observed.

“You’re getting paid to be bored, Chief Laiwon.”

“Where are you going to put my uncle?”

“There’s a town called Poma a ways off to the east,” Althalus replied. “The walls of Poma are a joke, so the invaders won’t have much trouble getting in. Khalor thought that your uncle Twengor might enjoy a bit of house-to-house fighting.”

Laiwon sighed. “He gets all the fun,” he said mournfully.

Althalus went on ahead to advise Duke Olkar of Laiwon’s approach, and the sober businessman seemed a bit apprehensive. “They won’t tear down my town, will they?” he asked.

“I doubt it,” Althalus assured him. “They might break a few windows and smash up the furniture in a few taverns, but they probably won’t burn down
too
many buildings.”

Duke Olkar stared at him in horror.

“Only joking, your Grace.” Althalus chuckled. “Chief Laiwon keeps a fairly tight grip on his clansmen. Keep track of the damages and send me a bill when the war’s over.”

Olkar’s expression turned shrewd at that.

“An
accurate
bill, your Grace,” Althalus told him quite firmly. “Don’t get creative on me. I’ll want to see the pieces of every broken dish. You’re not going to get away with trying to bamboozle me, Duke Olkar, so don’t even try. Now, why don’t we go to your front gate and welcome the brave defenders of your beautiful city?”

Duke Olkar and Chief Laiwon didn’t hit it off very well, and Althalus was forced to concede that some of that might have been his fault. For one thing, he’d neglected to mention the kilts, and Duke Olkar’s reaction to the traditional Arum costume was quite audible. “They’re wearing
dresses
!” had echoed off the walls of Kadon when Duke Olkar first laid eyes on the approaching army. That definitely didn’t get things off to a good start. Chief Laiwon’s face was like a thundercloud as he approached the city gate, and Althalus was forced to talk very fast to prevent bloodshed.

Then there was the smoke. The prevailing winds for the past several weeks had streamed from west to east, carrying the smoke from the burning crops away from the city of Kadon, but the winds had died down during the night, and as Chief Laiwon’s clan approached the city, tall columns of dense smoke mounted behind them toward the very heavens.

“What’s burning out there?” Duke Olkar demanded suspiciously.

“Wheat fields, I’d imagine,” Laiwon replied indifferently.

“Are you
mad
?” Olkar almost screamed.

“It’s possible,” Laiwon replied. “If I’d been in my right mind, I’d never have accepted this job in the first place. That’s part of what wars are all about. I thought everybody knew that. You’re being invaded, city man, and there are a couple of clans out there delaying the invaders. Setting fire to croplands is standard practice in situations like this. Most armies prefer not to march through fire, but that’s not really why we do it.”

“You people are burning
millions
!”

Laiwon shrugged. “What difference does it make? That’s enemy territory now, so you wouldn’t be able to harvest the wheat anyway. You lost that harvest as soon as they invaded. It’s theirs now, and they’d probably planned to feed their army with it. They won’t be able to do that now, so they’ll be on very short rations. Every enemy soldier who starves to death is one less that we have to kill when they attack your city. Did you actually believe they’d let you harvest this year’s crop?”

“But it’s
mine,
” Olkar protested. “I paid for it already.”

“You could try to take them to court, I suppose,” Laiwon replied with an amused look. “You’d need a few hundred thousand bailiffs to drag them before a judge, though. We have other fish to fry right now. Where do you want me to billet my men?”

“There are some empty warehouses over on the far side of town—down by the lakeshore,” Olkar replied. “They should be good enough for your people. I don’t want you disrupting things in the main part of the city, though, so go around to the back gate.”

“
That
does it!” Laiwon said abruptly. “I’ll take my pay right here and now, Althalus, and we’ll call it quits. I don’t go in through
anybody’s
back gate!” He turned to face his kilted clansmen. “We’re finished here, brothers,” he bellowed. “Let’s turn around and go back home to Arum!”

“You can’t do that!” Olkar protested.

“I don’t like your attitude, little man. Defend your own stinking city.”

It took Althalus a good hour to clear up
that
little misunderstanding, and he had to lean on Duke Olkar quite heavily in the process. Olkar stalked off in a huff, and Chief Laiwon spat on the place where the stuffy Treborean had stood. “Lock him up in his palace if you have to, Althalus,” the Chief insisted, “but keep that self-important jackass away from me, or I’ll kill him. Now let’s go have a look at the walls. I’ll probably have to add a few modifications.”

“It shall be as you command, Chief Laiwon,” Althalus replied, bowing.

“Oh, stop that!” Laiwon told him irritably.

“Your Captains have spies out, gentlemen,” Althalus told Smeugor and Tauri, “and their spies have picked up some strong hints that the invaders are plotting to have the two of you murdered. This fort will protect you.”

“Murdered?” the pimple-faced Smeugor exclaimed.

“It’s not uncommon during a war, Chief Smeugor,” Althalus replied blandly. “You might even look upon it as a compliment. If your enemy hates you so much that he wants to murder you, it’s a sure sign that you’re doing
something
right.”

“We haven’t really done all that much,” Tauri protested.

“Nothing all that much out of the ordinary,” Althalus conceded. “I suppose it’s because your people are doing their job very well.”

“Exactly what
are
Wendan and Gelun doing?” Smeugor demanded.

Althalus shrugged. “The invasion started in the late summer, and that’s not really a coincidence, you understand. The wheat fields are ripe now, and the Aryo of Kanthon’s mercenaries were planning to live off the land while they marched south. Wendan and Gelun have arranged things so that there’s nothing out there to eat—except for maybe the dirt itself. They set fire to the wheat fields and the pastures. There’s nothing to eat for men or horses for fifty miles in any direction. The invaders and their horses are quietly starving to death.”

“We didn’t order that!” Tauri exclaimed, his face going suddenly pale.

“You didn’t have to order it, Chief Tauri. It’s common practice. The word ‘delay’ usually means ‘burn.’ I thought you knew that.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing! Go tell Wendan and Gelun to stop that immediately!”

“Oh? Why would I want to do that? It’s working, Tauri. It’s slowing the invaders and giving our armies time to get ready. Your men are doing exactly what I’m paying you two to take care of.”

“But . . . but . . .” Tauri tried to protest.

Then Smeugor jabbed him sharply in the ribs with his elbow. “We’re pleased that our men are doing so well,” he said—just a bit unconvincingly.

“I’d stay away from that window, gentlemen,” Althalus cautioned. “Some archer out there might get in a lucky shot.” He reached inside his tunic and took out a piece of paper. “One of our spies out there’s fairly talented,” he said. “This is a drawing of the fellow who’s been hired to murder you. Your guards here in this fort have copies of the drawing, so they know who to look for. You’re safe here, but I wouldn’t go outside very much. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a million things to do today.”

“Did it work, Master Althalus?” Gher asked eagerly when Althalus returned to the tower from the room where Smeugor and Tauri were imprisoned.

“Slicker than a fresh-caught eel, Gher.” Althalus chuckled. “They both recognized that drawing of Argan, and they know that he’s probably bringing them a message from Ghend. Our little fiction that Argan’s an assassin fully justifies locking them up for their own protection, so they can’t object without arousing suspicion. To make it even worse for them, they know that if they don’t explain to Ghend that burning the wheat fields wasn’t
their
idea, he probably
will
send somebody to kill them. I’d guess that right now they don’t know which way to turn.”

“I’ll bet that’s making them crazy.” Gher smirked.

“It’s sending them right up the wall. We could probably just go ahead and tell them that we’ve found out that they’re working for Ghend and that we’ve locked them up for it.”

“That’d spoil it, Master Althalus. Isn’t it a lot funner to just keep them in the dark?”

“It is indeed, Gher—much, much funner.” Althalus looked across the tower room. “What are the ladies up to over there?”

“Emmy’s teaching Andine how to playact,” Gher explained. “It’s got something to do with that dream we all had when the bad lady was standing on Andine’s neck. Andine got
real
mad when Leitha told her that a couple of her Generals were working for Ghend. She was going to have them taken out and skun alive.”

“Skun?”

“Have all their skin peeled off, I guess. But Emmy told her no. Emmy wants her to pretend to be kind of wishy-washy—sort of young and timid, scared of her own shadow and like that.”

“Andine? Timid?”

“She’s not very good at it yet,” Gher admitted. “She’s having a lot of trouble with her voice. Emmy wants her to sound sort of weepy and scared, but Andine can’t quite seem to get the hang of it. She keeps trying to knock the glass out of the windows with her voice. She’s awful cute when she gets mad, isn’t she?”

“That sort of depends on where you’re standing, Gher,” Althalus said. “If you happen to be standing right in front of her when she unleashes that voice, ‘cute’ isn’t the first word that’s going to pop into your mind.”

“I think you’re probably right about that. She’s yelled at me a few times, and I didn’t really like it a whole lot.”

“Where’s Chief Albron?”

“He’s downstairs with the horse lady. She’s teaching him some of the tricks the horse soldiers use when they fight wars. I don’t think he’s learning very much, though. He likes to look at her for some reason I haven’t quite figured out yet, and he’s so busy looking that I don’t think he’s listening too good.”

“Probably not, no.”

“It’s some more of that boy-people and girl-people stuff, isn’t it?” Gher asked. “I really wish they wouldn’t do that when I’m around. It always makes me real jumpy. Most of the time I don’t know
what
they’re going to do next.”

Althalus scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “I think we’re getting quite a bit closer to having an important little talk, Gher.”

C H A P T E R     T H I R T Y - T W O

I
just
can’t do this!
Andine’s silent voice echoed through their minds.
I
won’t
bow down to that pockmarked hag, no matter
what
she does to me.

It’s not working, Em,
Althalus murmured in a deeper, more private part of their shared awareness.
Why don’t you let
me
deal with it?

Why can’t she just do as she’s told?
Dweia flared.

I’ll take care of it, little kitten. Go wash your face or something. You’re
very good at sneaking, but this is a little more complicated.
Then he stopped.
Stay out of here, Leitha,
he added.

Leitha, who was sitting at the marble table leafing through the Book, gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence.

I mean it, Leitha,
Althalus chided.
Don’t come in here unless you’ve
been invited.
Then he looked at Andine, who was still fuming near the north window of the tower. “Let’s talk a bit,” he said to her, speaking aloud.

“It’s not going to do you any good, Althalus,” she flared, speaking aloud. “I
won’t
do this!”

“Why not?”

“I’m the Arya of Osthos, and Gelta’s nothing more than an animal.”

“Wouldn’t that suggest that you’re more clever than she is?”

“Of course I am.”

“It doesn’t show very much right now, Andine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you’re setting a trap for an animal, you have to bait the trap, little Princess. If you’re trying to trap a bird, you use seeds for bait. If you’re after a wolf or a bear, meat works fairly well. Gelta’s a different sort of animal, so you’ll have to use a different bait. We
do
want to have baked Gelta for supper, don’t we?”

“That’s disgusting, Althalus!”

“I was speaking figuratively, Andine. You’d need a lot of spice to make Gelta edible. The bait we’re going to use to trap her has to be so alluring that she won’t be able to resist it. That’s your job. Be irresistible, Andine. Be soft and tender and delicious—right up until she touches you.
That’s
when we spring the trap and send her off to the bake oven.”

Andine’s eyes narrowed as she considered that. “On one condition, Althalus,” she countered.

“Oh?”

“I get her heart.”

“Andine!”
Leitha gasped. “You’re even worse than Gelta!”

“Figuratively speaking, of course,” Andine amended.

She’ll be just fine, Althalus,
Dweia murmured.
Don’t change a thing.

“Why?” Salkan demanded of Bheid, continuing a discussion that had obviously been going on for most of the morning as Althalus came by the dining room looking for Eliar.