Demon King (7 page)

Some must have survived our purging and fled. But we’d obliterated all their leaders, as far as I knew, and I thought the order no more than a bad dream of the past.

“I’m not mad,” Kutulu said. “The Tovieti have risen again. Remember their emblem?”

I did — it had been chalked or scrawled on every wall in Sayana, Kait’s capital — a red circle, representing the Tovieti, red for their slain leaders, whom they considered martyrs, with a nest of hissing serpents rising from it. Kutulu nodded.

“We cut off many of the vipers’ heads. But there are still others.”

“But who do they serve? Thak is dead, or at least I thought he was.”

“No sorcerer, including the emperor himself, has been able to find the slightest trace of the demon,” Kutulu agreed. “But the Tovieti have changed.

“I’ve arrested a dozen or more in Nicias. When questioned, right until death, they insist they have no master. Thak’s death, and the deaths of those who were the organization’s high council, proved they were following the wrong star.

“Now all members hold the same rank and are organized in small cells. They are to kill the mighty when they can, still with the yellow silken cord if possible, and are permitted to steal what they can to share with the others of the brotherhood.

“They say perhaps one day a new leader will manifest himself, but he won’t be a demon, but a man, a man who’ll lead them well, and they’ll give up their bloody ways for peace, and all men and women shall be equal.” He grimaced. “There’s only a few, as far as I can tell. But they’re troublesome. They’ve strangled at least a dozen people I know of, and I’ll wager three times that number of killings have been done in other ways. I’ve been unable to find any central leadership to exterminate. Perhaps they’re telling the truth, although I’ve never known a pack of dogs to not have a leader.”

“This is all completely new,” I said. “You know what sort of wardens we have here in Kallio, and that they’re little better than door rattlers. As secret agents they make excellent chicken farmers. But I’ve heard no whisper of the Tovieti. Should I ask my seer to cast spells to see if she can find any evidence?”

“No. I doubt if she’d be successful,” Kutulu said. “I had the best sorcerers in Nicias attempt such castings with no result, including the Chare Brethren, which the emperor has turned into a real force instead of a bunch of fossils creaking on about the theory of magic.”

He glanced about, as if looking for eavesdroppers, then said, almost whispering, “Have you any evidence, or even suspicions, of any Maisirian activity?”

“None,” I said, shocked — until I remembered Tenedos’s words.

“The emperor wants to know if any of these vanished Kallian officials might have fled through the Disputed Lands and found shelter with King Bairan.”

“No. Maybe a few tried,” I said. “But I would find it hard to believe any official or magician who had more than a rag to wrap about his loins would have been able to convince the Men of the Hills to give him safe conduct to the Maisirian border.”

“As would I. I believe that those who survived the war have gone to ground or fled into other provinces of Numantia. But that is not what the emperor believes.” He shook his head. “Great men proclaim the truth, and we lesser beings can do little but try to make what we see fit into that vision.

“Very well. Let me see what I can discover.”

• • •

The Time of Heat ended, and the Time of Rains began, at first with drizzles, then the full gush of the monsoon. It was still hot, but the gray, dank days matched the dirty business that had begun.

Without fanfare, Kutulu and his agents went to work. Strange people came and went at all hours, sometimes singly, sometimes in groups. Where they went, what they did, I didn’t know, nor did I ask.

Others on Kutulu’s staff were equally busy. I had to have the dungeon guard room moved up a level and thick carpeting installed on the floors. The screams from his torture chambers carried far.

I liked all this but little, but this is the way my country performs its investigations and enforces its laws. Prince Reufern seemed delighted and importuned Kutulu to visit the interrogation rooms. Kutulu refused, saying any interference from outsiders might destroy the pattern he was trying to create and reduce the flow of information his clerks were recording.

I had the comfort that my duties involved no such evil and that my magistrate’s patrols were abroad, doing their best to provide justice in the broken land.

• • •

The man stumbled through the city’s gates at midday, through the rain that blew in sheets across the sky. He still wore tatters of his uniform and to the sentries appeared quite mad. He was a horseman of Two Column, Leopard Troop, Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers.

He was rushed to the castle infirmary, and identified as Horseman Gabran. He’d ridden out with Legate Ili’s justice patrol that morning, and his hysterical babblings made the watch officer send for me at once. He raved about snakes, huge snakes, people that became snakes, and they’d tried to kill him, but he’d run, run. Suddenly he became quiet, his eyes owl-like.

“They killed all of us,” he said calmly. “All of the horses, all of the men. They tried to kill me, too. But I was too quick for them. I went into the fields, and then across a river. They couldn’t track me.

“Now they’ll come here. Now they’ll come after me. But I’m safe now, aren’t I? Aren’t I? Aren’t I!” and his voice rose to a scream. Two men held him, and a third forced a potion through his clenched lips. Again he quieted.

“That’s to make me sleep, isn’t it? That’s all right. I can sleep. They’ll not find me, when I’m asleep. Or if they do, I won’t care. No. I won’t care. I won’t …” He collapsed, as much fainting as from the draft.

I ran out of the infirmary, shouting for the alert troop, for Domina Bikaner to attend me in the Lancers’ ready room, and for a runner to summon Kutulu and Seer Sinait and tell them to make ready to travel. Sorcery would be needed if there was anything to Gabran’s tale, and I planned to move fast, far faster than the Kallians believed possible.

Bikaner came at a run, buckling on his saber. His adjutant, Captain Restenneth, had told him about Gabran, and he’d served long enough with me to be able to tell what I planned.

“Legate Ili and his column went out at dawn with orders to hold court here,” he said, tapping a spot on the ready room map. The village was called Nevern, and it sat in the foothills two hours ride from Polycittara.

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll have the ready troop …”

“Tiger, sir.”

“Tiger Troop, and turn out my Red Lancers. I’ll also have one company of the Hussars ready to ride in ten, no fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take personal command — ”

“No,” I said flatly. “This one’s mine. But you can ride along if you wish.”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

Kutulu hurried into the room as Bikaner ran out. I briefly explained what I thought had happened. “We lack information,” he said.

“We do,” I agreed. “And if we wait for details there’ll be nobody left to deal with. Are you riding with me or no?”

“I’ll come.”

“Good. I’ll get you a mount.” Karjan was waiting. My combat harness was beside him, and he wore helmet, breastplate, and greaves.

“Lucan’s bein’ saddled, sir.”

“Very well. Take this man to the stables and get him mounted on a fast, dependable horse. Have another horse saddled for Seer Sinait. Go!”

Karjan ran out, followed by the warden. Captain Lasta clattered in, buckling on his gear. I gave him instructions as I fastened on my own weaponry.

“Sir? One question?”

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Supposing it’s a trap? Supposing they’ve laid an ambush?”

I considered. No. They wouldn’t be expecting a response this quickly. They’d think we’d wait until the morrow, when we’d have a full day, for no one chanced traveling the roads of Kallio near dark.

“Isa have mercy on them if they do. For we won’t.”

• • •

Seer Sinait was waiting in the courtyard, her robes rucked up so she could mount, holding a canvas roll with her magical implements. The troops formed up as I outlined what little I knew, their warrants shouting orders and instructions.

“Possibly,” she said calmly, “possibly, Tribune, we should have found the time to discover further details, but I see you are intent on trapping whoever — or whatever — attacked your men.”

“I am.” Her words caught me, made me think.
Whatever
?

“Suppose it
is
a demon?” I said.

She shrugged. “I’ve never confronted one fresh from a kill. If so, it should make an interesting conflict.”

I grinned tightly. One reason I’d chosen the Seer was her complete lack of fear. She was as much a warrior as any of us.

“Sir!” It was Bikaner. “Troops mounted and ready.”

Karjan trotted up, leading Lucan. Beside him was Kutulu, astride a bay I knew to be a racer, but a horse I’d trust a babe on. I swung into the saddle.

“Lancers!” I shouted. “Ride out!”

The gates of the courtyard swung wide, and we trotted out, into the castle’s main yard. The gates stood open, and the lamps of Polycittara were already glowing in the dankness beyond.

I saw Marán on an inside balcony. For just a moment battle anger left me, and I wondered what it was like to love someone who’d chosen a life as I had, when each leave-taking might be the last. But there was no time for anything behind. At a gallop we went into the driving rain and out of the city, with blood on our minds.

• • •

The rain stopped for a moment, and dying sunlight outlined the village of Nevern. It sat atop a hill and, even though it was unwalled, would be easy to defend, with only half a dozen streets, which wound past ancient stone houses. I heard the wail of a babe, quickly silenced, from one. But we had little attention for the village.

Twenty-five naked corpses hung on butcher’s cutting tripods along the road, impaled on hooks through their rib cages. They were the missing Lancers. I looked at Legate Ili’s body. Beyond the ghastly wound in its chest, it bore no signs of violence. But he had not died easily — his face, like the others, was twisted in a grimace of fear.

I remembered Horseman Gabran’s babblings about men becoming snakes, and imagined Legate Ili’s column a few hours ago, drawn up in the village square, about to begin the hearings, seeing the crowd pressed about them change, writhe, become serpents and slither toward them.

Very well. Those who dealt terror would experience it themselves. I shouted for the commander of the Tenth Hussars’ troop, Captain Pelym, and ordered him to surround the village with the hundred men of his company. Kill anyone attempting to leave — man, woman, child. He saluted, and his company rode away.

“Your intentions, Tribune?” Kutulu was being formal.

“This village was responsible for the murder of twenty-five of their fellow Numantians. Under martial law, I intend to put it to the sword.”

I saw Seer Sinait’s eyes widen. For a moment, I remembered that police sergeant about to slay three elderly innocents, but shoved the memory away.

“Good,” Kutulu said. “The emperor’s rule can be just — but it can also be harsh to miscreants.”

“Tribune,” the seer said. “Will you give me a moment before you issue your orders?”

She dismounted, took the canvas roll from behind her, opened it, and took out a very slender dagger, the blade of which shone of silver, and the haft of gold.

“I would like to try something I’ve never attempted.”

She touched the blade to her forehead, then to her heart. She walked to Legate Ili’s body, touched the tip of the dagger to the gory wound in his chest, then went back to her roll. She took out a coil of string that shimmered in the light of the dying sun. Murmuring words I couldn’t distinguish, she wrapped a figure-eight loop around the dagger’s haft, then held it suspended in air. The perfectly balanced weapon hung level. Sinait chanted:

“There is blood

There was blood

Seek the Slayer

Find the man

Find the woman

Find the child

Blood seek blood

Point true

Point it well

Blood seek blood.”

The dagger didn’t move; then it swung, pointed toward the village.

“That’s as I thought,” I began, and then the dagger swung to the side. It moved back and forth, like a hound questing for a scent, then steadied. It pointed a dozen degrees away from Nevern.

“What does this mean?” I asked.

“Wait,” the seer said. “Let me be certain.” Again she chanted, and again the dagger behaved exactly as before. “These soldiers weren’t slain by the people of this village. The dagger points to where the real murderers now are.

“I’d guess the villagers knew what was about to happen, but were afraid of giving a warning. The knife shows they carry some guilt. I felt this,” she went on. “I sensed no threat, no enemies ahead. That’s not a trustworthy feeling, all too often. But it’s still worth considering.”

“You said the villagers share guilt,” Kutulu said. “That’s enough.”

Sinait didn’t answer, but looked at me, waiting. That bloodthirsty warden came back, and a bit of my anger died.

“Tribune,” Kutulu said, seeing my hesitation, “these people are admittedly guilty and must be punished. Should we ignore them, and chase wisps that will disappear in the hills?”

“Seer,” I said, “the emperor’s warden has a point. Can the ones who actually did it be brought down?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Is there a map of this area?”

“Domina Bikaner. A map, if you please!”

“Sir!” Captain Lasta pulled one from a saddlebag and handed it to Bikaner, who brought it to me.

“If you could … align it, I think is the word?” Sinait asked.

I dismounted and laid the map on the ground, using the village and a readily identifiable hillcrest not far away to orient it.

“We are where, exactly?”

I knelt and pointed. Sinait got down beside me, picked up a bit of muddy earth, and touched it to the map where I’d pointed.

“You are what you picture