The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) (120 page)

The noises from above dropped away as he travelled lower. The cold increased. Soon, every breath he sucked in stabbed at his lungs, and through his boots he could feel the numbing pain of the ice. The silence was deeper than death. After what seemed like a journey of many days, Quentin-Andrew reached the final step, and there he paused, blinded by the darkness beyond him. Further ahead, he could hear the sound of aching breath; he followed it, as he had once followed the men he trapped. And so, in the end, he found the Commander.
The Commander of the Northern Army was just as he had been before: crouched on the ice, his hands folded over his face. Quentin-Andrew knew the other man from his hair and from the gold edging of his cloak, signifying his rank. Stopping a body's length away, he said, "Commander."
The Commander raised his head at once and rose slowly to his feet. Though he stood within the dim light cast by his visitor, he stared with unseeing eyes in Quentin-Andrew's direction. "Lieutenant?" he said in a cautious voice.
"Yes, sir." Quentin-Andrew found that his vision had sharpened, as it always did at such moments. He could see the throbbing blood-tunnel in the Commander's throat and the practiced stillness with which the Commander held his dagger-hand. The skin near the Commander's manacles was blue-white, and the Commander's lips were chapped and bleeding.
"So they have captured you as well," said the Commander in a calm voice. "I feared the worst when you disappeared from the camp. Have they questioned you?"
Quentin-Andrew paused a moment before answering; he was watching the Commander's eyes and gathering the information he needed. "Sir, why are you here?"
The Commander sounded more hesitant than before. "I was captured, I suppose. We went into battle – you heard that? – and as we broke through the palace walls, I felt something hit my head. When I awoke, I was here." His voice grew more firm. "You didn't answer my question, Lieutenant."
Quentin-Andrew walked forward and placed his dagger-hand in the Commander's. "I am well, sir," he said.
The Commander briefly inspected with his fingers the unmarked hand and wrist before releasing Quentin-Andrew. "I'm glad of that," he said quietly. "Now that they have me in their hands, they won't bother you. They know that I have all the answers they need." His voice grew lower. "I have been trying to prepare myself for that."
The dagger-pricks of coldness were beginning to dull Quentin-Andrew's mind. He shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts and asked, in a hard, precise manner that all too many men had known, "Who are 'they,' sir?"
"The enemy, of course." The Commander's reply was immediate, with a note of surprise to it. "Those who are against us. The men who are destroying the Three Lands."
Quentin-Andrew felt an easiness come over him then, as he always did in the moment when he learned which instrument would break the prisoner. Still he hesitated, wondering which of several paths to take to his destination. At that moment, a movement caught his eye.
It came from the wall of the pit that glistened black under the light Quentin-Andrew cast: a faint color and movement, like the blue throb of a blood-tunnel that was sheathed by skin. Quentin-Andrew stepped over to the wall and wiped his hand across the face of the ice, feeling the coldness bite into his hand as he did so. Where his hand had passed, the opaque wall turned to clear crystal. Now he could see what lay beyond it.
"Sir," he said in the respectful voice he used to lure his victims into unwariness, "will you come over to this window, please?"
"Window?" The Commander's voice was uncertain.
"Yes, sir; it's within a few steps of you. I think you'll find that your chains extend that far."
Quentin-Andrew did not turn his head, but he heard the heavy clank as the Commander dragged his chains across the floor. A moment later, the Commander's arm brushed his, and Quentin-Andrew stepped aside to allow the Commander full view of the scene.
After a minute, the Commander began to curse, steadily and with his usual restraint. "Those demons," he concluded. "Those heartless villains."
"What are they doing, sir?" Quentin-Andrew knew better than to provide his own commentary.
"Destroying a village. The men are imprisoned in a group – the enemy isn't allowing them to die quickly, the poor wretches. And the women and children— I cannot speak of it." He started to turn away, but Quentin-Andrew grasped his arm and held it fast.
"What's happening now, sir?"
The Commander sucked his breath in quickly. "How odd. I can see Capital Mountain now. I thought that this window looked out onto the north, and yet . . . No matter; the scene to the south is just as terrible. A bonfire is blazing, and the enemy is throwing objects onto it: books and harps and tapestries – everything that enriches the Three Lands."
"I see." Quentin-Andrew's voice was colorless. "And is that all the enemy is doing?"
"No, I— How odd, the window seems to point west now; I can see the setting sun. The enemy is destroying a law court. . . . Gods, if only I were free!" The Commander's arms tensed as he tightened his fists. "They are destroying everything civilized, everything the gods love."
"I don't believe they are quite finished, sir," Quentin-Andrew said in a cool manner. "Can you tell me what the enemy is doing now?"
After a moment, the Commander said in a weary voice, "We must be looking east; the landscape is night-laden. I can barely see— Yes, they are executing people. Law officials, bards who sing of the deeds of gods and men . . . The shapeless gods preserve us, they are even killing priests." The Commander's voice took on an edge. "When I leave here – and I
will
leave here – the enemy will pay for this in blood. I will see that each man who has done this pays his debt, and the men who ordered it will pay the greatest debt of all. They will regret the day they were born. Do you understand, Lieutenant? I want you to help me to punish these men."
"Certainly, sir," Quentin-Andrew said in a matter-of-fact manner. "Including you?"
The Commander had begun to turn away from the window again. Now he stopped and said, "Lieutenant?"
"You wish the men who did this to be punished. Shall I punish only our captains, or am I to punish you as well, sir?"
"Lieutenant, what in the names of the nameless gods are you speaking of?"
"Look again, sir; the enemy is destroying another village."
"I already saw that, and I have said they will be punished—"
"Look at their uniforms, sir."
A silence, and then the Commander said in a tight voice, "Rogue troops. They exist in every war, but I had trusted that I had my men under better control than that. I see what you mean, Lieutenant. The captain who allowed this to happen will be punished for his men's deeds—"
"No captain ordered this, sir; the order came from you. Have you forgotten the command you issued concerning villages that harbor fugitives?"
The Commander remained silent for several seconds. From where Quentin-Andrew stood, he could see the Commander's face, which was lit by the colors cast from the scene beyond. "Yes," the Commander said slowly. "I needed to track down the leaders of the enemy, and some had taken refuge among the villagers. It was a harsh move but a necessary one. With the enemy alive, I could not protect the villages against them. One or two villages must be sacrificed in order that the others—"
"Here is the bonfire again," said Quentin-Andrew. He could not tell whether the fire was in fact there, but he dared not allow the Commander to continue down the path he was taking. He knew from experience that the Commander could lose himself for days in his thoughts of the greater good. "What uniforms are the soldiers wearing?"
The Commander's voice turned quiet. "Our uniforms. I remember now. I ordered the destruction of the law books and the other objects that recorded the past history of the Three Lands. It was a hard decision but a necessary one. The law has grown corrupt – it must be purged of its evil elements, cleansed of its dark past. I wish to bring Koretia and Emor and Daxis closer together, to take another step in creating a single law for the whole of the Great Peninsula—"
"Yes, sir," said Quentin-Andrew. "Is that why you ordered the death of the priests?"
"Of course," the Commander replied without hesitation. "Only the corrupt priests, the ones who had taken the side of the enemy. War is a terrible thing, Lieutenant; it brings the horrors of destruction and fear and torture. Little though I like having to treat men in such a way, it is necessary for the sake of peace. I want this war to be short; I want the Great Peninsula to lie in peace once more. With the enemy dead—"
"I see." Quentin-Andrew allowed his voice to grow a shade colder, as it did when he was discussing matters with the Commander that entered into his own province. "Sir, who is the enemy?"
The Commander's voice grew cool as well. "I have already answered that question, Lieutenant. Surely we have more important matters to discuss, such as how to find a way to escape here so that we can once more fight the enemy—"
"I need to know for the sake of my work, sir." Quentin-Andrew's voice was now as cold as a long-buried bone. "Are the Emorians our enemy, sir?"
"Certainly. They started this war by their oppression of the dominions."
"And the Koretians, sir? And the Daxions?"
"They opposed my attempts to bring Koretia under lawful rule once more. Of course," he added quickly, "once we have killed the true enemy – those who oppose me – the peaceful Koretians and Daxions and Emorians will have the opportunity to choose new rulers and to choose a new law. The shapeless gods know I will fully support any men who have the ability to bring about this rebirth, but until such men arrive, I cannot let the Three Lands suffer under the enemy—"
"Is Dolan the enemy, sir?"
The pause lasted very long this time. The colors at the window had grown dim; the Commander's face, which still faced that window, was flung into shadow. Quentin-Andrew could see its outline only by the faint mist emitted from the Commander's mouth.
"That is not a name I wish to discuss." The Commander's voice was flat. "You know my wishes in that regard."
"But sir, I cannot do my work without being certain who I should question. You gave Dolan into my hands—"
"That is in the past." The Commander cut Quentin-Andrew short with a voice like a blade. "Dolan disobeyed orders, and he received the punishment I had promised upon any man who disobeyed me. It was a hard decision for me to make, but a necessary one, for the sake of the Three Lands—"
"The Three Lands that are being destroyed by your soldiers, sir?"
The moment he spoke, Quentin-Andrew knew that he had taken a misstep. It had happened before; he was not a god, and despite his reputation, he had made errors in his work. Always in the past, it had not mattered greatly. He was certain of his success in the end, for no man in the Three Lands could hold out against him.
Except, perhaps, the man who had helped to make him what he was.
"You said that it was a necessary decision," Quentin-Andrew added quickly, trying to retrace his steps. "Could you explain why to me, sir?"
The Commander, though, was not listening. He had turned from the window and was staring at Quentin-Andrew with narrowed eyes, as though seeing him for the first time. He said quietly, "You are not chained."
The Commander's quiet voice had deceived many a man before. Quentin-Andrew, who had heard the Commander use that voice on the night of Dolan's torture, remained silent and waited.
The Commander took a step back and ran his gaze down Quentin-Andrew's untouched uniform and his unmarked body. When his eyes rose again, they glittered like the dark ice surrounding him.
"I see," he said with bitter frigidity. "I should have guessed that the enemy would take this course. You are the only man who has stood beside me through it all, the only man left whom I could trust. Why should the enemy torment you when they could offer me greater torment by taking you from me? What did they give you, Lieutenant, to make you desire to come here and speak their words?"
"Sir—"
"Leave me at peace!"
The voice was thunderous, with only a slight break at the end. Iron rattled as the Commander thrust his fists forward, but the chains held him fast. Quentin-Andrew, who had automatically calculated the length of the chains from the moment he first sighted the Commander, remained where he was, unmoved. He noted that the Commander's face was as dark now as the ice in the pit or as the starless sky above.
"Leave me before I kill you." The Commander's final words were spoken in a grim whisper. The chains clanked as the Commander turned his back and made his way to the corner where he had crouched before.
Quentin-Andrew stood awhile, regarding him. The Commander's hunched body was now beyond most of the light that Quentin-Andrew cast. His appearance was like that of dark rock or of a dead beast. After a time, Quentin-Andrew turned and stepped over to the window.
The events had continued to unfold during the period since he had been there last. Darkness had fallen; now he could only catch sight of the figures outside through moonlight and starlight and the occasional flare of a torch. He saw men and women and children falling back under the onslaught of the leaderless troops, and he saw what happened when they failed to escape. He saw the troops, still restless after their bloodlust, turn against each other, while the captains strove without success to keep order. He saw the captains slaughtered. He saw the cities lying in ruins – not only Koretia's capital, but also Daxis's and Emor's – and he saw the gradual abandonment of the towns as trade grew more precarious and it became necessary to live close to the land. He saw the burnt crops of farmers and the strong bands of huntsmen that arose. He saw what they hunted.
Watching the dim scene, Quentin-Andrew felt the coldness encase his legs and make its way up his loins. He wondered how long it would be before the ice chained him to this place. He wondered also how much time had passed in the Land of the Living. Had centuries slipped away while he stood motionless and silent and essentially alone? Or had he been granted the vision of a god, to see the future that would take place? Or was there in fact any time at all in this place?
The cold travelled further; soon it would reach his heart. Reluctantly, Quentin-Andrew stirred himself, turning away from the window. As he did so, he heard a soft sound. It came from the Commander.