A Sword for a Dragon (24 page)

And yet those same people had welcomed the Argonathi with open arms as they marched south from Salpalangum. Was it just gratitude for their deliverance from Sephis or was there also perhaps a hint of rebellion toward their own cowardly masters in that welcome?

Kesepton knew too well that in Ourdh they hanged anyone who stole so much as a loaf of bread, unless they were of noble blood. Slaves were common in the towns and cities. All the men he’d dealt with at the palace, after all, were eunuchs belonging to the emperor himself. This was a very different culture from his own.

Up the broad avenue he went, between the great temples, all dominated by the vast pyramid of Auros Colossos. Beyond the temples, the avenue became lined with three-story buildings, most of which had shops on the ground floor. Crowds of men stood on the street corners, clumps of women in the traditional head-to-toe black garub pushed through the men. After a while, he found Tasfaar Street, and he turned right and headed south. Tasfaar was lined with the houses of the moderately wealthy. These were tall white stucco houses, most of them set back from the road behind a walled courtyard. He recognized the Merchant Irhan’s house by the sign with the white flower of Marneri.

As he approached, a coach turned out of the gate and rattled away pulled by a team of white pacers. For some reason it stirred a vague memory. He had seen this team before, but he could not recall where. He shrugged and rode on to the gate.

At the front door, he waited briefly while Irhan was summoned. The merchant came from his counting parlor, his mind filled with figures and calculations.

At the sight of a captain of the legions, Irhan understood at once who he was and why he was there. This would have to be young Lagdalen’s husband, the heroic grandson of General Kesepton.

“Captain, come into my office. Can I have something Drought for you, some water, kalut, beer?”

“A glass of water would do wondrous things for my throat, sir.”

Irhan lead the way to his office.

“What has happened?” he said when they were behind a closed door.

Briefly Kesepton explained that the poisoning of General Hektor had changed the situation greatly. General Paxion was in command, but was under pressure from the Kadein commanders to return at once to the Argonath. They hoped to embark from Ourdh within seven days.

Irhan was incredulous.

“But the enemy has rebuilt his strength. There is a new army. They are stripping the countryside on the west bank, whole counties are empty now of people. They may have captured Kwa already. If so, then this new army is marching here now.”

Kesepton shifted uneasily, unwilling to comment any further. Irhan gestured wildly. “What will be the point if you go home now and abandon us to the hordes of Sephisti?”

Kesepton shrugged. “Sir, it is not my place to criticize the orders. I simply obey them to the best of my ability.”

Irhan paused in mid flight, and dropped his vehemence.

“Yes, Captain, I’m sure you do. But it’s a tragedy. We shall all have to flee. There’ll be a panic like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life.”

Kesepton crushed his captain’s cap in his hands. The whole situation was becoming disastrous. Old Paxion was not strong enough to overcome the objections of the Kadeini officers who were behaving with so little courage.

“Well, sir, all that I do know is that on the battlefield the enemy could do nothing against us. With dragons as spearheads, we can cut up any enemy formation and take very few casualties.”

Irhan chewed his lip.

“Yes, Captain, I have read an account of Salpalangum that lead me to exactly that conclusion. Well, whatever will be will be, as you soldiers say.”

Kesepton nodded.

“However, Captain, you will have to inform General Paxion that it will take a lot longer to assemble the necessary shipping than seven days. The river below here is infested with pirates, and there aren’t twenty vessels in the port right now. Trade has been terrible since the third month of the rebellion. I’m afraid he’s being very unrealistic if he thinks he can get two entire legions aboard those ships. And the emperor will have to order them requisitioned, which I doubt very much that he will do.”

Hollein had wondered about the same point, and it was moot besides, since the emperor had refused to even allow them into the city proper, behind the immense walls and fortifications that were famous around the world.

“Yes, sir. I will tell him.”

“You have visited the palace I take it.”

“I am to return in two hours to receive a message, if there is one.”

Irhan nodded with his lips compressed. “I’m afraid the emperor is very unpredictable. He’s notoriously disloyal.”

Irhan sighed, stood up, and put his hands behind his back as he paced up and down.

“You must tell this to General Paxion in the greatest secrecy, do you understand?”

Hollein nodded.

“The emperor is obsessed right now with his mother’s plotting against him. To be fair to the man, it must be admitted that his mother is prone to poisoning her sons. She had three and has killed two of them already. There is a nephew that she prefers. At the same time, the general feeling in the court, is that the call for help to the Argonath was a mistake. There is fear that letting the Argonathi ”barbarians“ in will add a new powerful player to the struggle for power among the great families. At the same time, the more knowledgeable know that they need us desperately if they are to stave off the Sephisti. There is no agreement therefore, and no consensus on what advice to give the emperor.”

Irhan sighed heavily.

“Tell the general that I will attempt to rally our supporters and overcome the emperor’s mood. He is unfortunately captive to the views of the Princess Zettila, his cousin. She is an extremist of the cult of Gingo-La. Who knows what kind of advice she is giving him? It is a very difficult situation.”

Kesepton drank a cool glass of water. And then broached the real reason he was there.

“I must ask you, Merchant, about the whereabouts of a certain young woman of Marneri, her name Lagdalen of the Tarcho.”

“Indeed, I know her well, Captain. And you are her husband of course. I should say that I feel honored to have met you, the hero of Tummuz Orgmeen.” Irhan beamed at him.

“Yes, Captain, even here we get the news of the home city. You married very well there, young man. She is a beauty and of the Tarcho themselves.”

“Yes, sir,” said Hollein. “Is she here?”

Irhan sighed, enjoying this moment.

“Yes, I believe she is. Upstairs on the top floor attending the, uh, Lady Ribela.”

“Ribela?” Hollein was confused. Who was Ribela? Where was Lessis?

“Yes, a Great Witch from the Isles, the veritable Queen of Mice.”

Hollein’s eyes went wide, that name he had heard. Irhan chuckled. But where was Lessis?

“Please go upstairs, Captain, and see your wife. I’m sure she would never forgive me if I did not urge you to. The room is on the right, at the top.”

Hollein bounded up the stairs. At the second landing, he was observed through a screen door by Lady Inula, who then turned away and picked up a pipe in which batshooba smoldered.

He reached the top floor. It was deserted, all the servants being terrified of the witch. He opened the door and peeked inside.

It was dark, and there was the sound of someone choking. He hesitated. What if he interrupted some important spell? But if he did not look, he would not see Lagdalen. He ducked inside. The choking sounded worse.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom and at length he saw a woman of striking appearance, clad in black velvet, who appeared to be in great distress. She was on the floor, her legs sprawled out, back against the wall with both hands to her throat as if she were strangling herself. She was also making the choking sounds.

On a small rectangular altar nearby smoldered some incense. There was a table by the door that held a bowl filled with chunks of bread.

The strangeness of the situation did not hide the fact that something was gravely amiss here. There was no sign of Lagdalen. Cautiously, he approached the woman. Something darted away from his foot. A mouse. There were several of them on the floor.

The woman was choking herself to death. He knelt beside her, took her wrists in his hands, and tried to pull them free. He could not, they were held there by a strength beyond that of any man. He tried again, putting a foot to the wall for leverage.

She was staring up at him, trying to mouth something. Hardly any sound emerged.

“What is it? What can I do?” he shouted at her.

A wild hope lit up in her eyes. She swallowed and choked, and then made a great effort and managed to croak, “Feed the mice! Now!”

“Feed the mice,” he whispered uncomprehendingly, and then he connected the bowl of bread on the table and the mice on the floor. He whirled and cast the bread to the floor.

The starving mice converged on the oil-soaked bread like small grey streaks. They devoured it in a matter of moments. Hollein Kesepton felt his eyes bulge in his head as he watched the bread vanish. There’d been enough to feed several men in that bowl, and it was gone inside five seconds. And the dozen or so mice were the same size they had been before.

But now they jumped up to the top of the little altar and began circling tail to mouth at great speed around the smoldering incense.

The woman came to life with a convulsive jerk and emitted a low growl deep in her chest. Kesepton drew back on his haunches. Her hands slowly pulled away from her neck, as if she were overcoming an invisible assailant who sought to hold them in place.

Her eyes flashed momentarily, and she uttered a rapid fire blitz of arcane syllables and shook her body violently. There was an audible snap and then a sharp, chemical odor that faded away.

The woman slowly regained her feet. The color was draining back into her face.

Hollein stared at her, amazed by this turn of events.

“Lady, are you alright?” He began.

Her eyes were most luminous, peculiar.

“Thank you, young man. I have had a narrow escape. I thank you wholeheartedly for your part. However, I am troubled by something. Lagdalen, your wife I believe, should be here. But she is not. You, on the other hand, should not be here, but you are. Mysterious.”

“Where can she be?” asked Hollein, with sudden fear striking his heart. “I came up the stairs a few moments ago, and there was no sign of her.”

The witch studied the room.

“No sign of a struggle. But it is unlike her to shirk an important duty. Something is wrong. I shall have to make inquiries.”

Ribela started toward the door, then paused and turned to him.

“I take it that General Paxion has camped outside the walls and awaits the emperor’s pleasure.”

“Yes, lady.”

“Come with me, Captain, we need to find our Lagdalen. And then you shall take me to see General Paxion.”

General Paxion received the bad news in silence. When the young captain had gone, the general gave a great groan and slumped into his camp chair.

What had he done to deserve this? He had always done his duty, and he had served the legions well. Now his career, perhaps his life, was going to be destroyed.

There was no chance of getting the Kadeini to agree to turn about and fight. They were determined to sail for home at once. Paxion could not rouse them, nor could he make them fear him like they feared Hektor.

And on top of everything else, there was a Great Witch in the city who wanted to see him. That was guaranteed to be a headache! He’d probably get turned into a frog.

“Messenger!” he shouted after a long minute of sullen contemplation.

Quickly he scribbled a note and sent it to General Pekel. Within twenty minutes, all senior officers were assembled in Paxion’s headquarters tent.

Quickly he briefed them on the situation, sparing nothing.

“The situation is grim, gentlemen. Our choices are to try and force our way inside the city, seize what ships there are, and try to get our men home that way, or to march south to the coast where we might attempt to embark the men aboard Argonathi ships. We could reach the coast in a week to ten days. How long it would take the cities to assemble a large enough fleet to take us home is beyond my competence to calculate. The weather witch thinks it would be at least three weeks, but it could be months.”

Paxion stared at Pekel with clear distaste. “By then we will be surrounded by vast armies of Sephisti. They are emptying the land over the river, they are taking everyone. The word is that the serpent god will inspire even crones to take up weapons and attack us.”

General Pekel flushed angrily. He knew what the Marneri men thought. The Kadeini commanders were subdued as well. Commander Porteous Glaves, sitting at the back of the Marneri contingent, was ashen-faced.

For Glaves, it was the final straw. There was a giant army of black-clad fanatics marching toward them, and they were trapped outside the walls of the city by a weak-brained emperor. They were going to stay here and argue among themselves about what to do, the Sephisti would come down and surround them, and they would all end up being baked alive over hot coals.

A safe passage out of this hellish mess, that’s what he required. And once more he considered the strange offer he’d received from the mysterious priestess of Gingo-La, who had visited his tent. There was a safe passage for him there, and he hardly had to do a thing.

As Paxion brought the briefing to a conclusion and they rose and filed out, Porteous Glaves decided to give the priestesses what they wanted. It looked like his only chance to get out of the gathering doom he foresaw.

The following morning dawned sunny and bright. Commander Glaves left his tent and sauntered over to the dragon section. His nostrils wrinkled at the odors of the great beasts, it was a little like that of horses, but sharper. Still, it mattered little, he would soon be far away from it all.

“Dragoneer Hatlin!” He called out as he approached. The dragoneer pulled on his cap and straightened his uniform, clearly flustered a bit at the sight of his regimental commander.