Dragons of War (28 page)

"What kind of trolls?"

"Tall albinos, some very heavyset blue-blacks, and others that were unfamiliar to me, covered in brown fur."

"How many?"

"Hundreds. I counted one line and reached thirty nine."

"What else did you see?"

"Just as I was about to retreat, I took a last look around. The nearest imp regiment was about a half mile away. Then I saw them. Another line, quite a distance away, maybe four miles. But my glass is a good one, a Spitzberg from Cunfshon."

"I am sure it is, young man. What did you see?" Ribela was impatient, a fairly common event.

"Giants, my lady, giants they was."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, at first I thought they was trolls. I thought the grass was shorter there, for it only came up to their knees, but then I saw the flowers of braxberry bushes, and they only came up to their knees as well. Braxberry don't flower unless it's five feet high, Lady. These things were three times that height."

"Giants," murmured Ribela.

"At least fifteen, sixteen feet high, Lady. I watched them for as long as I dared, and then snuck away while the imps were but a couple of hundred yards distant. I retreated about two miles and watched again. But I only glimpsed them one more time, and then I had to break away when a division of the Baguti cavalry came patrolling along the front. I rode all day and the next night, and came to the shoals above the Lis. I changed horses at the fort there and rode directly to Fort Teot, which I reached at sundown the following day."

"You have done very well, Ranger Hawthorn," said Ribela at last.

Hawthorn seemed to swell with pride. Lessis turned to Ribela.

"A pigeon brought us the word at once. I asked the Ranger to come on to Marneri for a detailed interrogation. He has given us a great deal of good information while undergoing extensive questioning. He has put up with it all marvelously."

"My duty, Lady. I understand the need for it. It's hard to remember everything without it. And it'll be over soon, I think."

Lessis thanked the young man and then sent him down to the refectory with a note requesting that he be fed and given a warm bed.

After he had gone, Lessis and Ribela sat across from each other at a square table of heavyset appearance that betrayed its age and unfashionability.

"Giants then," Lessis said grimly. "As we feared."

"A weapon to break our battle lines and overcome even our dragon force."

"If our battle lines can be broken, then our armies would be finished. We would be overwhelmed by the enemy's numbers."

"They have tried to keep this weapon hidden from us, and they have almost succeeded."

Ribela unrolled a map of Kenor across the table.

"The emperor believes the enemy will divide his forces soon. A force will go north to mask Fort Kenor."

"Having questioned these young Rangers," replied Lessis, "I have to say that I think the enemy is actually dividing his forces in three. Another smaller force is being sent south. The central force is still very great, however. Our estimates run to one hundred thousand imp, a thousand troll. Tens of thousands of cavalry."

Ribela understood at once.

"One force marches to assault Fort Picon."

"This frees their central force from having to deal with that legion, coming to reinforce either Teot or Fort Redor. It leaves us with only the half legion or less stationed at Fort Redor."

"Not enough to do anything to stop such a host."

"What can we do?" Ribela was suddenly at a loss.

Lessis pointed down at the southeast corner of Kenor.

"The High Pass, that is where they are throwing their weight. I think we may not be able to hold them there. The force they bring is overwhelming. And they will cross the Malguns and come down into Arneis. That is where I think the last battle will be fought."

"Last battle?"

"If we lose this battle, we will never win another. All our available strength will be on that field, perhaps thirty thousand legionaries, plus every dragon we can muster. We need to know more, much more about our enemy's plans, and about these giants. Can we perhaps combat them the way you did the mud men at Ourdh?"

"Mud men would never be able to make the march. They last only for a single moon. I am inclined to accept the mammoth information that Irene brought us."

"We need to know more."

Ribela looked up. The Grey Lady looked back at her frankly. "I have a plan."

"I rather thought you might have," said Ribela.

"We cannot penetrate Padmasa on the astral plane if I understand you correctly."

"No, we cannot," said Ribela.

"We have no one left inside the Tetralobe. We shall have to penetrate it ourselves."

Ribela's eyes widened. "You jest, Sister. No matter how we disguise ourselves, we would be detected if we tried to enter."

"Not necessarily, Sister Ribela. If we underwent the spell of full animancy, we could go in inhuman guise that would never be suspected.

Ribela blanched. "I a mouse?"

"And I a sparrow. Or a wren. The smaller the better."

"To actually be physically within the confines of the Tetralobe. Why it would be monstrously clever." Ribela turned to Lessis with an open look of admiration. Then doubt returned.

"A good concept, but how are we going to get a mouse and a bird all the way to Padmasa? If we set off at once, I think we will arrive within about forty years. A mouse can only go so far."

Lessis nodded happily.

"They will ride on the shoulders of a great eagle. A third will join us in the spell and be cast into an eagle. The eagle can cover such a distance in a matter of days. With luck, we can return with useful intelligence before the enemy even reaches the High Pass."

"I see," Ribela nodded.

"But to practice animancy upon a third party, that will take skill, indeed."

"We know the party well. She is brave enough to quench into an eagle's fierce, narrow mind."

"You speak of young Lagdalen. But what of her motherhood? Should we risk her in such fashion?"

"I am afraid we have no other choice. Fi-Ice is a Mistress of Animals, but she is too old, too strongly set in her ways. Lagdalen has the heart for this, and she is young. This will be a brief service. We will be gone for only a week or two. It will not be like her service in Ourdh."

"Could you not take the eagle?"

"I could, but I am sure we will need both mouse and bird to investigate within the Tetralobe. And we might even wish to enter the Deeps, and there I think a bird will be invaluable."

"The Deeps of Padmasa, I have only ever glimpsed them from afar in the astral plane. Never did I think to tread there!"

They stood up and were about to part when Ribela remembered something, "One moment, Sister, there was a letter for you, delivered in Andiquant, not official business."

"Oh?"

Ribela fished out a small envelope, instantly recognizable as a military mailer. " 'Twas posted in Fort Dalhousie."

Lessis slit it open with her thumbnail and glanced within. Her face broke into a wide smile, "By the breath! Sometimes She moves in curious ways."

"Yes?"

"It's from a certain dragonboy that we both know very well. He has some questions for me."

The throne room in the city of Marneri was a brighter place in the reign of Queen Besita than it had been during that of her sire King Sanker. The dowdy wall hangings and heavy brocaded drapes had been removed, and the walls had been freshly painted white and pale blue. The drapes were modest, in a contrasting dark blue, and new carpets of white Marneri wool covered the floor.

The courtiers in the room had changed as well. There were a few holdouts from the old regime, but most of Sanker's cronies had gone home to their estates to mourn their king and prepare themselves for their own deaths. Besita was surrounded by a younger crowd, with many more women among them. The spirit had changed, becoming lighter and more cheerful.

One thing had not been changed, however, and that was the throne itself, the ancient seat "Pellaras," with its rigid, straight back and uncomfortable arms. Carved in black teak, it was plain and exceedingly heavy, an heirloom of ancient Pellin from the golden age of Veronath. During the Dark Ages, it had been conveyed to Cunfshon and stored in a warehouse. Then at last, on the re-assumption of civilization and the founding of the Ennead cities of the Argonath, it had been brought back, as uncomfortable as it had ever been.

Most of the kings and queens of Marneri had managed to suffer the throne stoically. Besita, however, was not made of such stern stuff. She had had the thing cushioned, but the straight back and the rigid sidearms were still hideously uncomfortable no matter how you slouched or squirmed.

Meanwhile, the tedious business of the Aubinan Magnate Porteous Glaves went on and on.

"Really, this case has taken up an inordinate amount of time lately. Why cannot it be disposed of?"

Lord Axnuld, the new chamberlain, turned his infuriatingly condescending smile upon her.

"Your Highness, the case is complex. There are conflicting testimonies."

Behind the throne, Lagdalen winced. As First Lady in Waiting, Lagdalen spent many hours sitting, in a comfortable little upholstered chair that was tucked away just out of sight behind the Pellaras throne. Lagdalen had heard the testimony. There was little conflict, in fact. Glaves was guilty by every account except his own.

He was, however, enormously wealthy and influential in the grain traders' association of Aubinas.

"In that case, why is it not being resolved in the courts, where it belongs. I have enough to do as suzerain for the empire in this city without adjudicating a criminal case."

"It is a ticklish situation, Your Highness." Axnuld had moved close to her side and was leaning over, to whisper in her ear.

"The Aubinans, madame, are threatening the grain market again. We could face a major dislocation if they carry out their threat to ship their grain to Kadein."

"Oh, my." Besita sat back and rubbed her chin. It seemed that almost anything one did threatened some disaster or other. Now she had to listen to all this drivel once again or risk famine in the streets.

The Magnates of Aubinas came forward and bent the knee in formal fashion. One of them, a large, full-bodied man in a suit of sparkling yellow satin with much lace about the throat, stepped forward with a scroll in his hands.

"The Honorable Faltus Wexenne," murmured Axnuld, "landlord of Champery."

"Your Highness, may I address the court?" The man in the yellow satin suit had a surprisingly heavy voice.

"You may address us, Wexenne."

Wexenne then launched into a long screed in which he pled once more for a cessation to the criminal case against poor Porteous Glaves of Aubinas. A commander in the legion with a record of proven heroism, Glaves had captured a banner in the battle of Salpalangum and sent it home to raise the morale of the city. He now faced vicious charges placed by jealous men of lesser stature who sought to bring him down with their calumnies and lies.

It was true, of course, that he had been aboard the white ship
Nutbrown
. But that was because he had been forced to take over the ship from her near-mutinous crew so he could take the ship to do battle with the fell enemy in Dzu. He was on his way to slay the demon there when he was ambushed by mutinous dragonboys and dragons alas, and taken captive. Then, these unjust charges had been laid, and he had spent months in confinement.

This was too much for the counsel for the prosecution, Lord Burly of Sidinth, who had been chamberlain for the old king.

"Your Highness!" he said, rising to his feet and raising an arm.

"I cannot sit still while listening to this pack of lies. Wexenne is turning the case on its head. There is testimony from a dozen sources, and all is agreed on the man's guilt. Except for his own fabricated story, he has no defense."

Axnuld intervened smoothly,

"Your Highness, I must rule the Lord Burly out of order. Wexenne has the right to continue speaking by the protocols of the throne room."

"Yes, of course, Lord Chamberlain." The protocols were a wonderful old fallback. To Rodro Burly, she snapped, "I would think that you, Burly of Sidinth, would know that such outbursts are impermissible in the throne room of Marneri. You will be silent until Wexenne has completed his remarks, or you will be removed from our presence."

Burly bent the knee and shuffled back into the line of dark-robed men and women who stood by the rear wall of the room. Wexenne continued his oration with a shrug.

"As I was saying, Your Highness, before I was so wrongly interrupted, the gentle Porteous Glaves of Aubinas begs pardon of Your Highness and a cessation of the relentless prosecution that has dogged him since the end of the Ourdh campaign. The case is a travesty, a mockery of your majestic justice."

At last Wexenne gave up the right to speak. Rodro Burly of Sidinth took his place and hammered away at the salient points, that the testimony in the military trial had been entirely set against Glaves's story. That even his claim of capturing a banner single-handed at the Battle of Salpalangum was suspect, with others claiming the enemy flag for their own. That, in point of obvious fact, the whole thing was a tissue of lies put out by a wealthy man who was trying to buy his way out of the justice he so richly deserved.

At length Besita raised her scepter.

"Honestly, it is enough to make one's head throb. Why does this awful case keep coming back to me? Really, my Lord Chamberlain, it is most vexing. We order a recess. We will return for a further audience this afternoon."

Besita got to her feet and hurried back behind the throne even before the assembled grain factors, courtiers, and functionaries could bend the knee; something that would never have happened under the Old king, who knew how to conduct these matters with proper ceremony.

Besita meanwhile had retreated into her private chamber, where she flung herself down on a couch with a groan.

Her ladies-in-waiting, Lagdalen of the Tarcho, Pessila of the Clamoth, and Kuellen of the Brusta, hurried in to revive her spirits. Pessila brought a cup of hot tomato broth. Kuellen of the Brusta brought toasted tea cakes with honey, a favorite of the queen's. Lagdalen massaged the queen's aching shoulders and neck. The queen was feeling very much put upon by her life.