Down to the Sea (16 page)

“When we are ready.”

Again Jurak laughed. “We have been playing this game of words for months. You are torn apart by war. How many contenders to the throne are there?”

“That doesn’t matter. In the end, the Kazan shall be reunited. We will destroy them with ease.”

“Who is ‘we’? I suspect that this order of yours is far more concerned with its own advancement than any unity of the Kazan Empire or who is upon the throne at the moment. For all I know, you represent only your order and serve this distant emperor only with the left hand.” Velamak shook his head and laughed. “Very adroit.”

“Don’t patronize me. I might be the ruler of a fallen clan, but I am the Qar Qarth, who can still field thirty umens of the finest cavalry in the world.”

“We know that. It is one of the reasons we sought you out.”

“And, oh, how we shall pay if war does come. There are forty million humans in the Republic. A million of them can be mobilized in a week. And we shall be the first target.”

“The emperor never asked for you to sacrifice yourself.”

“Nor would I. The emperor is how far away? Two hundred or more leagues by land to the sea. Then how far, a thousand leagues? Two thousand?”

“Something like that. Remember, we knew of your defeat within months of its happening. If we had known your danger earlier, we would have sent aid. We have had twenty years to ponder this question and to prepare.”

“And to fight amongst yourselves, thereby diverting your strength. Velamak, you have been here for months. Over the last week you have seen one of their leaders from a distance, their finest general.”

“Small even for them.”

“Call him that when he is leading a charge, as I once saw him do.”

“I think you almost like him.”

“I do, damn it,” he growled, and he poured another drink. “He has the ka, the warrior soul. It’s told among us how he alone killed more than thirty thousand Tugars in one night, breaking a dam that flooded their camp, sweeping away their elite umens. Some of us believe as well that he has the tu, the ability to read the souls of others.”

“And that is why you forbid me to ride escort and reduced me to watching from a distance?”

“Precisely.”

Velamak nodded. “We know the tu and the ka. But I doubt if the humans have mastered it, at least their humans.”

“Their humans?”

“Ah, so I have piqued your interest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that there is much of the Kazan I have still not told you.”

“We’ve talked endlessly of this before, and it always seems that I learn precious little of you and your empire in reply.”

“The less you know, the less you will reveal to the humans.”

“Oh, yes, such as your foolishness in giving a revolver as a present to Ogadi of the White Taie clan.”

Velamak stiffened. “I noticed it was missing shortly after I arrived in your camp. Ogadi was the one who escorted me here from the coast. He demanded a present for his efforts. I gave him a few gold trinkets, nothing that could be identified as not being of your Horde. I had hoped the revolver had been lost when fording a stream. Now I know different. He stole it.”

He had never trusted Ogadi. Then again, he rarely trusted any of his Qarths. The damn fool.

“They know of you, Velamak.”

“Only a rumor.”

“I think they know more. I could sense it from Hawthorne. The revolver was enough to cause concern, but he has seemed pressed these last few days, anxious, as if bearing more information than he would ever share with me. Perhaps one of their ships has finally located where you are.”

“As I have already told you, we’ve met three of their ships. Primitive things, actually. They were defeated with ease, their crews annihilated.”

“The humans are incessant, Velamak. You can’t stop every leak, every hole in that invisible wall you try to maintain while settling your own differences.”

Velamak shook his head. “Only rumors. Remember, the ocean is as vast as your steppe, dotted with a thousand islands, archipelagos, and then our homelands. Yes, there are humans out there, some we have never located. They spread widely across the last twelve thousand years since the Portal to their world mysteriously opened up after being asleep since the Downfall. We have set them to our purpose when necessary, slain them when they didn’t fit, but never did we allow ourselves to become enslaved to our slaves as you did.”

“Not I, those who came before me,” Jurak replied coldly. “Whatever. What I am saying is that in the years since we have learned of the rise of this human nation, we have maintained a zone of destruction on the islands where they might venture, leaving no trace.”

“And again, why did you not just attack?”

“To what gain at that moment? When the blow is to be struck, it must be annihilating, not a half measure. We knew we had gained a small edge on machines thanks to those from your world who had come through the portal nearly a hundred years back.

“Our ships outgun them, our flyers are larger, our artillery is superior in all respects, as are our explosives. Still, what I have learned from you is so damn tantalizing. You speak of wireless telegraphs, these engines you call internal, the creation of light through wires, chemicals that kill, gases that kill, the making of diseases. By all the gods, what we would give for such knowledge.”

“And yet I know of it but not how to make it happen,” Jurak said.

“Precisely. Ten years of working on such things and no threat of the humans could ever matter to us.”

“You have the edge you have, and that is it.”

“Damn.”

It was a curse not directed at him, but nevertheless he stiffened, sensing an insult. After twenty years as a Qar Qarth, his pride would brook no insult, either real or imagined.

“No, you misunderstand,” Velamak said hurriedly. “I understand why. I know that our ship designers are working on this mechanism called firing control, being able to judge a target from a great distance and aim correctly. The advice you gave us years ago on that still bears fruit. Our guns can shoot three leagues or more, yet at sea they are useless beyond two thousand paces. I understand that such a thing is being studied, but ask me to explain and I am useless. I understand that it is the same with you.”

“I was but twenty years old when I became a soldier. Prior to that, I was a scholar interested in the writings of the ancients and their philosophies,” Jurak replied. “I knew to turn a knob and the light would come on so that I could read, but ask me to explain why the light came on and I had no idea.”

“Still, what you have said we shall try to work upon.”

“You arouse my curiosity about something.”

““And that is?”

“Your humans. I know you feel disdain for the moon feast. I watched you closely this evening.”

Velamak waved his hands indifferently. “Primitive, but interesting. I suspect you were far more disturbed than I would ever be.”

Again Jurak bristled slightly, but then let it pass. “There is something different about your humans. I have heard rumors of it.”

Velamak smiled. “Yes, they are different.”

“And what is that difference?”

“They are on our side.”

“But you said you slaughtered those on the islands.”

“Inferior ones. No, we are talking about those who have lived inside the empire, some of them for a hundred generations or more.”

“And are they slaves? Do you feed upon them?”

“At times, but that is inconsequential, and of no concern to them.”

“Then what is this difference?”

Velamak smiled. “The Shiv. We breed them. We breed them to match what it is we desire of them.”

“And that is?”

“A race of warriors. Bred the way you breed your horses. Those we do not select we slaughter or geld. Only the best continue on, generation after generation.”

“By the gods. They could be the seeds of your own destruction.”

Velamak smiled. “No. For it is the Order that controls them, and they have something you never gave your humans.”

“Which is?”

“Faith. A faith in a god of our creation. They are the Shiv, the elite of the elite, and when the Republic faces their Shiv legions, they will die.”

“And what of us, then?” Jurak asked, a cold shiver of fear coursing through him when the full enormity of what he had just heard struck him.

Velamak smiled. “He of my order, who I suspect even now is moving toward final control, he will guide the way.” Jurak lowered his head. For the first time since meeting this envoy he felt at last that he understood what was hidden beneath. This man wasn’t just an envoy, he was a fanatic, a believer, who had come to prepare the way for the madness to come.

“So you survived after all, Hazin.”

Hazin smiled, bowing low before the Grand Master of his order. He could see the wary gaze, the shift of the Grand Master’s weight as he leaned forward ever so slightly, ready to spring if Hazin should make a threatening move.

“My master, I must protest the indignity of a personal search before entering your quarters,” Hazin replied. “I would not be so disloyal as to strike you now.”

There was a sarcastic grunt of bemusement. “The whole city has been in turmoil since your ship docked, wondering what news you bring.”

Hazin chuckled. So they weren’t sure. Good.

“Hanaga is dead, as you ordered.”

There was an exhale of relief.

Ah, so he did fear the plot within a plot. Fine, that would have diverted his thinking for the moment. “There was no sense in keeping the news hidden. I’ve already sent one of our acolytes to the palace to give his most exalted highness the good news. I thought it best, however, to report to you personally.”

The Grand Master stirred. “Are you certain he is dead?” His voice was filled now with menace.

“If you doubt, fetch the Shiv who were aboard the ship and put to them the question. They disposed of the body after we were done.”

“You should have kept some proof for the satisfaction of Yasim.”

“The acolyte bears a basket containing Hanaga’s head. Is that proof enough, my master?”

There was a chuckle of bemusement. “He’ll most likely vomit at the sight of it.”

“And vomit again when you press for payment,” Hazin replied.

The Grand Master nodded, picking up a dagger resting on his desk to examine the blade.

“He’ll pay. He knows the result if he doesn’t.”

“Yasim might appear a weakling on the surface. But is he?”

“He’s a fool. Hanaga was different. Once the civil war was decided, we all knew he would turn on us. We were the one threat left to the Golden Throne. Yasim will be too afraid of us to strike. That, besides the wealth offered, was good enough reason to switch sides and support him.”

“The war, however, is all but finished now,” Hazin replied. “Playing one against the other was our own path to power. The remaining Banners will submit. And then what?”

“We consolidate our hold. With the payment offered we can expand our temples, gather more recruits. In ten years the cycle of struggle for the throne will start again, and yet again we shall play the game. This new emperor is morally a weakling, but he is lusty enough in his private chambers. Soon enough he will breed the next generation for us to play with.”

Hazin nodded, though he did not agree. The Master was old, the fire was going out of him. He was thinking now like an old one, seeking security, warmth, a comfortable seat by the side of Yasim at the banquet table and amphitheater.

He did not know the full measure of the one he had just placed on the throne. For that reason alone he should die, and for the simple fact that he was in the way.

“The journey has been a tiring one,” Hazin replied. “May I have your permission to withdraw?”

The Master nodded, then held up his hand just before Hazin backed out of the door, motioning for him to close it.

“One question.”

Hazin kept his features expressionless.

“Your order was to kill Hanaga. It is rare indeed for one to survive such an assignment.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Yet you obviously arranged it so you would.”

“Yes.”

The moment has come, Hazin thought. If he has any wisdom, he should kill me now, this very instant.

“You knew my intent in assigning you.”

“Yes, to ensure that I would die as well, but I did not.”

“And?”

“You could kill me now and find out the result, or let me live and find out the result.”

There was a long moment of silence, the master holding the dagger in his hand. At one time, long ago, this one had been his first mentor in the order. Hazin had loyally followed him, because that loyalty had been properly rewarded with advancement. Now he had only one step left to achieve—the final rank within the order, and the master knew it.

Hazin finally looked straight at him. “Better the threat you know than the one you don’t,” Hazin whispered. “For someone else to get at you, they will still have to contend with me.”

There was a subtle nod of agreement.

“The dynamic between us will keep the balance. If there is another rival within the order, such as Grishna or Ulva, they know that if they strike you down I will still take revenge, and if I should be stricken, then you will mete out revenge. As long as we are careful, we can both survive.”

“Are you pleading for your life, Hazin? I always thought better of you than to sink so low.”

“No, rather suggesting that we both can live or we both will die. I know why you assigned me to kill Hanaga. That was the business of our order, and I could accept it.”

He pitched his voice carefully. The master had trained him in the reading of the finest nuances of expression, the slightest change in tone, the flicker of an eyelid, the ever so subtle glancing away when a lie was spoken. That was yet another power of the Order, the training to be a truth sayer, one who could detect a lie in another, no matter how carefully crafted.

He thought of the human Cromwell for an instant, the sharp honesty that was so easy to read, and yet so difficult to penetrate. Then he pushed the thought aside. He had to remain focused.

“I assigned you to Hanaga to get rid of you. The needs of the Order are changing now that the civil war is ending. You, Hazin, thrive on conflict and manipulate it to your own advantage. I am not sure if you can survive now that it is ending.”