Demon King (22 page)

I didn’t know, but assumed the Emperor Tenedos, a man of infinite subtlety and deviousness, had a reason. Once again trumpets blared, and this time the fanfare was twice as loud and lasted twice as long. The noblemen and -women, recognizing the voice of their master, stopped chattering in mid-syllable and, as one, turned to the throne. A door opened, and the emperor entered.

Seer Laish Tenedos wore something that might have been a uniform — a simple collarless raw silk tunic in dark green, black flaring riding breeches, and black knee boots, with a matching belt. His crown wasn’t the simple, traditional badge I’d ennobled him with almost nine years earlier. This was new, elaborately figured and worked, with gems of many colors. Perhaps he needed a more ornate symbol, since he’d made Numantia into a greater kingdom.

Perhaps.

He seated himself on the throne, picked up a tall scepter that was also new, and rapped three times. Then he rose, and his voice, magically enlarged, boomed: “You all know of the outrage committed by the Maisirian Army against an innocent party of Numantian soldiers on a routine peacekeeping task well within our claimed borders.

“I told you I sent a sharp note to King Bairan, ruler of Maisir, protesting what his army has done and demanding a full apology and reparations for shedding the blood of our finest young men.

“This morning I received a reply, a response so shocking that I spent some hours considering what I should do. His reply, in essence, mocked me and all Numantia, saying he had no knowledge of any such event, and if something of that nature had occurred, no doubt the response was quite justified, in keeping with the recent warlike posture of Numantia!”

Tenedos’s voice dripped scorn. I saw, but didn’t understand, the shocked expression on Ambassador Sala’s face.

“Warlike posture?” Tenedos cried out. “The man is a villain, a base villain of the worst sort! Time after time I’ve ordered our soldiers to ignore provocation from the Maisirian Army on our borders. I’ve even kept from you, my own people, clear evidence that Maisir has had agents operating within our frontiers and has been agitating and fomenting unrest!

“For this I apologize, and beg understanding, for I wished to prevent turmoil from your own breasts, hoping I could maintain order and peace. But no more. This last outrage pushes our two kingdoms close to confrontation.

“As I thought about what I should do in this matter, I remembered that our finest soldier, the first tribune himself, Damastes á Cimabue, Baron Damastes of Ghazi, Count Agramónte, has recently returned from his estates, and so I summoned him to the palace. We spent some hours discussing the problem and are in full agreement.

“I … we all … wish peace for Numantia. But the shield of peace can only protect when there’s a strong arm, well armored and armed, behind that protection. I’ve therefore commanded our army built up, and for our forces to be ready for any development. Strong times require strong measures.

“I have chosen First Tribune á Cimabue for a special command, a command I cannot at present detail, but which supersedes all other ranks in our army. First Tribune á Cimabue now has call on any unit, any officer, any man for whatever is needed in these extraordinary times.”

I was grateful that the emperor’s first statement had given me a few seconds to mask my face. Now, as the cheering began, no doubt encouraged by the emperor’s toadies in the throng, all I had to do was bow deeply.

“I have prepared a reply to King Bairan’s insolence,” the emperor went on. “It will be given to the Maisirian ambassador within minutes.

“I request Tribune á Cimabue join me in my chambers, since information vital to our strategic position has just been received. That is all!”

Trumpets thundered and the crowd bellowed approval. Tenedos stood watching for a moment, an odd, small smile quirking his lips. Then he pivoted and strode off.

• • •

The door to the emperor’s reception rooms came open, and Baron Sala stalked out, face tight with anger. He saw me, and his expression smoothed into blankness. He didn’t speak, but nodded as he stalked past.

The emperor’s aide rose from behind his desk, but the door opened again, and Tenedos stood there. “Come in, my friend. Come in,” he said, his voice hearty. He closed the door, and indicated a seat, far across the huge room, on a divan. He sat beside me. On the end table was a decanter of brandy and glasses. He toyed with the stopper, then sighed.

“They never tell you about the times when you’d better not drink, do they?” He smiled wryly. “Sometimes I wish I had your discipline and never wished alcohol.”

“It isn’t discipline, sir. To me it tastes like shit.”

He laughed. “I suppose,” he said, “I should apologize for those slight falsehoods out there.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t, do I? So instead of an apology, would you like an explanation?”

“Gladly.”

“I summoned you at the same time as I sent the note off to King Bairan because I knew his reply would be sharp. It was the only possible response to my message. Actually, we still haven’t received his answer. That was why Baron Sala stormed out of here, after using every diplomatic term for liar.” He shrugged. “Lies in the service of your country are hardly sins. I know what Bairan will say, and I realized I had to provide the masses with an immediate answer.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Peasants have short attention spans,” he said. “Now the people are worked up over what happened. A week goes by, and they maintain their indignation. A week later, there’s less fervor, less ire. Two weeks beyond that, and the matter’s likely forgotten while they babble about the latest scandal from the capital.”

“Cynical, Your Highness.”

“The hells it is. I call that realism.” He stood and began pacing. “Now, for your ears only, here is what happened out there in the Border Lands. I’d become increasingly concerned, because Maisir is settling the lands just on the other side of the border, bringing in farmers and creating new units of those frontier guardians they call the Negaret. Guardians … or scouts for the invasion.

“Maisir attacked a reinforced troop of the Twentieth Heavy Cavalry, which I’ve relocated from Urey. The reinforcements were wagoneers, mapmakers, and so forth, for that district is little known.” That explained the extra men. “They were on direct orders from me, so there was a magical link between us. I sensed something wrong, something to the north, used a Seeing Bowl to search the area, and my senses drew me to the terrible scene.

“My vision showed nothing but bodies. Bodies and the carrion kites picking at them. They’d camped in a hollow near a spring. I don’t know if they were lax, or if their attackers silenced the sentries before they could sound alarm. A few appeared to have wakened, and fought back. They took a heavy toll of the Maisirians, but they were badly outnumbered. The troop was cut down to a man. The wounded were toyed with before being allowed to die. When ‘I’ came on the scene, the soldiers had been dead for two days, perhaps three.

“I used more magic to scan for their murderers. A day’s ride further south, my all-seeing ‘eyes’ found tracks, and followed them across the border, to a Maisirian outpost. Since the bodies had been mutilated, it was obvious the Maisirians were reinforced by native levies from the Men of the Hills.

“I summoned spirits,” the emperor went on, “and caused the bodies of my soldiers to burn with sacred flames. I sent a whirlwind sweeping across the area, so now there is nothing remaining, nothing but endless rolling hills of sand.

“I’ve ordered great sacrifices made to Saionji, and promised even greater, so our soldiers will be treated well on the Wheel and, because of their sacrifice for Numantia, given preferential treatment in their next lives. The men’s families will be granted generous pensions.”

Tenedos stopped, waiting for some response. There wasn’t much I could say, other than to thank him for what he had done. “What happens next?” I asked.

“We wait for King Bairan’s real response,” Tenedos said. “We proceed with building up our army and move toward the Maisirian frontier. If they attack, I assume it’ll be along the traditional trading route, through Kait, down Sulem Pass, into Urey.

“Which brings us to your role. I assume you’ve studied the materials I gave you?”

“Thoroughly, sir.”

“Do you think a war with Maisir is inevitable?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I didn’t find much in the reports to make me think Maisir wants, or wanted anyway, to invade us. At least they didn’t before Bairan inherited the throne.”

“There’s the change I’ve sensed,” Tenedos said. “I’m afraid he’s now seeing our lands as being ready for harvest. Perhaps he still thinks we’re as badly led as in the days of the Rule of Ten.” Tenedos smiled tightly. “If so, he’s misjudged things more than somewhat.”

“What’s Kutulu’s analysis?” I asked.

The emperor’s mood changed. His lips pressed into a thin line and I saw a vein throb at his temple. His eyes caught and held me with his searing gaze. “Kutulu,” he said harshly, “is dealing with other, internal matters. I’ve been using different, perhaps more qualified, people to assist me in understanding what’s happening with Maisir.”

If I hadn’t known the emperor for as long as I had, and hadn’t therefore thought him a friend as well as my master, I would never have pursued the matter.

“What happened with Kutulu, sir? If I may ask?”

“Kutulu presumed,” he said. “I’ll tell you this once, and request you never repeat it. Kutulu is in disfavor, although I assume as time passes, I calm down, and he returns to his senses, he could resume his former importance. I praised the man recently, in private, and said he could have any reward I could offer. He said he wished to be named a tribune.

“The fool!” The emperor’s pacing grew quicker, boot heels slamming against the parquet flooring. “Spies aren’t generals, aren’t tribunes. Not ever!”

I remembered Kutulu looking up at the Water Palace, admiring it, and saying
Perhaps, one day, if the emperor decides
. . . and not finishing his sentence. At first I thought,
The poor bastard.
How could he imagine a warden could ever hold the army’s highest rank? Then my foolishness and arrogance vanished. Why not? Hadn’t a magician assumed he could become emperor? Hadn’t I, a subaltern of cavalry, reached the summit? Hadn’t Kutulu served the emperor as well, perhaps better than I? Who would have cared, anyway? Perhaps seven or eight old farts who would’ve muttered about tradition being once again despoiled by the usurper. But who listened to those creaking monsters these days, with the winds of empire blowing fresh?

I thought of defending Kutulu, but caution took me, and I said nothing.

“Now, we have more important matters,” the emperor went on. “We’ll start with your new assignment, the importance of which I was
not
exaggerating.” An impish grin came. “But I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

“I beg pardon, Your Highness?”

“You heard me clearly. By the way, I’ve changed my mind. Pour me a drink from that other bottle, the one shaped like a rearing demon, over by my desk. In the cabinet below it, you’ll find various mineral waters.”

I obeyed. Tenedos sat down, leg hung over the chair’s arm, and watched, still smiling. I decided I could outwait him, and did.

“You won’t ask, will you?” he said.

“No, sir. I figure you’ll tell me when it’s important for me to know.”

The emperor laughed aloud. “Sometimes I suspect you know me better than I know myself. Do you ever find yourself missing the old days, Damastes? Before we had all the power and gold? Back when we wanted, instead of having?”

“Not really,” I said. “I can’t think of ever wanting to be somewhere, or in some time, other than where I am. Unless it’s really shitty, like Sulem Pass. Then I want to be anywhere.”

“That
was
horrible,” he said. “But on the other hand, it was glorious. I remember that infantry captain … what was his name?”

“Mellet, sir. I make sacrifice to him, and his men, every year on the anniversary of that last stand.”

I was amazed he could have forgotten Mellet, and the others of the Khurram Light Infantry whose bravery enabled us, and the Numantian civilians we escorted, to escape the doom planned by the Men of the Hills.

“Yes,” Tenedos went on. “I remember him, and all the others, very well. I think it’s well we remember men like him, and even brave beasts like that dying elephant that tried to rally to the trumpet when we first met at Ghazi. For that’s the part of war that makes us all great, worthy to stand proud in front of the gods.”

But I shivered, thinking of bloody times and the black wasteland war dragged across the world. I should have marked what the emperor said, but I merely thought it the romantic words of a man who’d known little of real war, and that almost always victorious. The emperor seemed to want no response, thankfully.

“Yes,” he went on. “Glory still must be sought and won, or men grow lazy, weak, and stupid and are dragged down by those who are stronger and more brutal than they.” The emperor sipped brandy and stared at me. Strangely, I thought he was seeing through me, or seeing me at the head of another great army, caprisoned for battle. I remained silent until the emperor’s reverie came to an end.

“Great times,” he mused. “But there shall be greater ones to come.” He drained his snifter. “I still won’t tell you what your next task shall be. But I’ll tell you who shall. Seek your friend, Tribune Petre. For it’s all, or everything beyond my initial idea, his doing.”

• • •

I’d met Mercia Petre when we were misassigned to the Golden Helms of Nicias. Petre was a completely earnest sort, whose only life and interest was the military, its history and ways. In the long, dull weeks of parade-ground duty, we’d done what many young officers do and dreamily designed our very own army. But then the Seer Tenedos had given us the chance to make it real, and so the trudging, bloated divisions of the past became the swift-striking sabers that slashed into Kallio and ended the civil war.