Enchanter (Book 7) (62 page)

“Aye, Sire.  There are hundreds of spears, helms aplenty, shields, axes, maces, truncheons, jacks, a grove of bows and a forest of arrows.  A few score arbalests, and other gear of war.  All ready for the deployment north.  That does not include the weapons stored here, prepared against the expected siege.”

“But cisterns were, apparently, too mundane a thing to see to.  Then offer each man who enlists in the militia for the duration of the transitional period a
three
silver a week for good service,” he decided.  “We’ll start with two score, here in town, mustered in the square tomorrow.  We can have them wear sashes or something until we can get more tabards made,” he decided.  “I’ll also need to speak to the town watch, the burghers, the local clerics . . . I suppose there’s more to this conquest excursion that I’d realized,” he said, apologetically.

“It’s not as hard as all that,” Tyndal shrugged.  “We did it at Taragwen.  Mostly we just let the village run itself, and the tribute keeps the keep in repair and food in the pantry.  Of course, having a tenant lord on site would be helpful.  The keep gets musty when no one uses it.”

“That’s one tiny mountain fief,” I countered.  “Rolone has many estates and manors.  There are over twenty-thousand people within its limits.  Ten villages, a town, two score or more of hamlets and hundreds of freeholds.
Five
castles,” I pointed out.  “These are not inconsequential matters, Lorcus.  In a domain this large you must attend to them.  You need men you can trust to run things, not just troops to guard them.”

“One bloody thing at a time.  Troops first, then bureaucrats.  Can you write, monk?  Then find parchment and write down my commands and prepare them for signature and seal.”  Brother Irthine ran off to do so, jingling with his newfound patronage.  “This conquest affair seemed more straight-forward when it didn’t have any hope of success,” he grumbled.

“It’s your first one, you were bound to have problems,” Rondal noted.  “Minalan, what’s going to happen when Sire Trefalan doesn’t get the expected levies from Rolone?  Or his pay chest? And learns of Lorcus’ triumph?”

“It’s going to be very interesting.  It will depend upon how he learns, I think.  But he will probably send a squadron of cavalry to investigate, headed by a trusted lord.”

“I plan to inform him, actually,” Lorcus said.  “Or inform Sire Cullien.  I’ll send him copies of my declaration of war and intention to reprise by herald, then I’ll send him a sheaf of Writs of Conquest for each of the castles we took.  Then the final one for Rolone Castle and the domain.  Then a polite letter thanking him for his generosity, or some such, declaring my quest for vengeance is now satisfied, and that I will be re-ordering my new domain and, as such, will not be participating in the upcoming summer martial festivities.”

“That’s going to inspire a strong rebuttal, I think,” Rondal reflected as he helped himself to a glass of Cullien’s spirits.  “He does have the military of the domain at hand.”

“I cannot think that he would deploy them against a rebellion as Sendaria’s army looms,” I said, looking at a handsome map of the region in tooled oxhide that Cullien had helpfully hung in his chamber.  “He’s going to need every man to meet them in the field.”

Rondal stood beside me and gazed at the handsome map.  “What about the eastern domains? Pirine, Avanal, and the rest?  Won’t they be trying to use Rolone as passage to the deployment in the north?”

“I’m certain that is their intent,” I nodded.  “What is your policy on such things, Lord Lorcus?”

He considered, and I could almost see the half-a-worm in his head contemplating the potential entertainment value of various course of action.  “We’ll let them,” he decided.  “If they can pay the new toll.”

I smirked.  “And what would that be?”

“Two ounces of silver for every commoner, five for every nobleman,” he decided.  “That will buy them free and unfettered
unarmed
passage through Rolone.  And, of course, any violence by such travelers would cause me to hold their domain accountable,” he added.  “It took me a whole two weeks to conquer my first domain.  Now that I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t be so cautious in my approach on my second.”

“And if they cannot pay?” Rondal asked, amused.

“Then they can bloody well hike their way north through Lavanth, if they don’t like it.  That’s what those troops are for.  Where are they likely to attempt to cross the frontier?”

Rondal studied the map.  “This village, here, on the border: Luckthorn, in the Sunsheaf estate.  That’s where the toll agent will be.”

“And when do you think they’ll be making that attempt?”

“Within the week, now that planting is done and the peasants have had time to prepare for deployment,” reasoned my former apprentice.  “I’d say twenty men and a couple of sparks at that point would be sufficient to enforce your policies.”

“It might start another war,” I cautioned.

“I’m game for that,” Lorcus assured.  “This conquest less like war and more like thievery.  I like that!”

“It is easier when the military have left,” agreed Rondal.  “Arm the peasants, see which of your prisoners would be willing to take your device, and hold what you can until the war is over.  Whomever is the victor will have to contend with you, even if that means another war.  You have a lot of leverage, legally speaking.”

“The law is a slow sword to depend on,” I pointed out.  “It rarely keeps Riverlords from pursuing their interests.”

“True, but I’m not a Riverlord,” reminded Lorcus.  “I’m mad Remeran.  Anyone who tries to bite the apple of Rolone will find a worm within has the most acrid of flavors,” he grinned, wickedly.

*

*

I left Lorcus and his men to order his new domain and returned to Sevendor, where I dispatched messengers to Wilderhall with the officially-sealed Writ of Conquest, complete with the generous fee owed to the Duchy for filing it.  Sire Trefalan’s pay chest provided that.

I puttered around the workshop for a few days, working with Onranion and Azhguri on the Snowflake, and helping the enchanters with some of their more advanced projects.  I worked with Ruderal on some basic magic skills with Dara for a day and got to know the boy’s cautious humor a little better. 

After that I checked in with Dranus, Festaran, Sister Bemia and Banamor on various administrative issues.  With the ecclesiastic council approaching, there was a lot of work to be done to spruce up the town and especially the new temple district in anticipation of the arrival of the barony’s clerics.  Thankfully most of the work fell to Banamor and the burghers; all I really had to do was allocate my portion of the funds and approve the basic agenda.  Compared to some of the obtuse issues I’d dealt with as head of the Arcane Orders, it was apprentice-level work.

Sir Festaran’s business involved some hastily-arranged weddings and some delicate negotiations after the carnal chaos of the night of Ishi’s wholesale blessing of Sevendor.  The arousal effect had not, as I had hoped, been confined to the castle; indeed, the entire town had spent an evening in unanticipated debauchery, which had spawned dozens of crises that needed to be attended to. 

As far as Gurisham, Boval and even Brestal folk had been inspired into sudden acts of libidinous passion.  Often they came to their senses before they crossed the frontiers of scandal, merely skirting propriety and, occasionally, good taste.  Most of the wiser married couples merely locked themselves away or found seclusion, spending an intense few hours in youthful bliss, the time slipping away until the effects of the spell did. 

Sometimes it wasn’t a husband or wife who was the recipient of Ishi’s Blessing, however – and the effects of those casual infidelities, whether the product of repressed desire or the result of circumstance and impetuous spontaneity, had real consequences.  The temples will filled with folk tearfully regretting their transgressions, begging for guidance and forgiveness.  The clerics were babbling platitudes and scriptures but were even more perplexed than their parishioners.  They hadn’t been immune to the spell themselves, and that had caused some extreme spiritual stress.

Most of the clergy had rules about sexual relations, from vows of outright sexual celibacy, like the strict Avaltines and Ifnines, to restrictions on sexual behavior subject to the temple’s approval, like the Brigines, Tryggines, and the Huine orders, to virtually no real rules – or just general rules of thumb – like the disorganized Herusine priesthood.  Of course Ishi’s orders had a
whole
different approach. 

But for that one wild night that approach had been magically projected on all of the clergy, and that had caused some spiritually awkward encounters.

The nuns of Briga had ended up seducing visiting parishioners, pilgrims, and fellow clergy in what culminated in a ring of sexual excess around the Everfire, led by Flamemother Antara.  As a number of monks of Huin’s temple had quitted their spired temple seeking the warmth and serenity within the Dome of the Flame, both temples were dealing with an unexpected ecclesiastical crisis.  (A tour of of elderly pilgrims from Trestendor, however, later accounted it the most spiritually profound pilgrimage of their lives and vowed to return every year.)

Not everyone was given over to untamed lust.  The priestess of Ifnia wisely closed her temple’s doors, retreating to the vaults for contemplation in solitude while she sent her acolytes to their cells. 

But two middle-aged priestesses of Trygg, visiting the town on a shopping trip from the abbey, found themselves the subject of far more male attention at the inn at which they were staying than they were accustomed to  . . . and found themselves unexpectedly interested in those attention. 

The two normally-chaste matrons took on all comers in the common room that evening.  They did have the decency to shed their clerical robes and habits early in the process, so that most of the men involved were unaware of the minor sin they were technically committing.  It the Birthsisters kept track of theirs, I’m sure it was of interest only of the abbess and the All-Mother. 

And an elderly monk of some obscure order from Vore who was visiting the libraries of our land ended up humping in the middle of the Secret Temple with the mature Remeran librarian Pentandra had hired to care for the texts and curate the records.  By all accounts, the monk acquitted himself in a manner which Penny would have been proud.

The combined trauma of the day was causing a lot of anguish, and Sister Bemia was trying to explain it all.  When she asked me for counsel, I revealed the true nature of the spell.

“It was Ishi’s work,” I explained.  “Divine magic was involved, and thanks to the snowstone, it affected everyone.  My sincerest apologies,” I added.

Her eyes got wide.  “Ishi?  The goddess of love?”

I shrugged.  “Did you think that Briga was the only goddess to take an interest in Sevendor?  Yes, I can confirm that Ishi was involved in that night.  If it helps with your explanations, it was technically to aid the Baroness through an ailment which required the assistance of the goddess.  I can likely get it confirmed as a blessing or something by her temple, if it helps,” I offered.  “And she is pregnant,” I added.  Birthsisters had a reverence for expectant mothers that was a decided weak-spot.  I wasn’t above exploiting it.

“That would explain a lot,” she agreed, reluctantly, as the implications set in.  “Especially this time of year – she is a goddess of spring, and her power would be at its zenith.  Dear Mother, that alone could explain why I – why things got so . . .
awkward.
  The Binder of Hearts is a potent force, be definition.”

“It wasn’t hearts that were stirred,” I said, wryly.  “But what do you suggest to contend with this . . . occurrence?  In your professional opinion?”

She looked thoughtful.  “A statement from her temple would be helpful.  I can lend my testament, as a . . . participant, from the perspective of a fellow clergywoman in support.  But . . . honestly, Sire, such a thing was rather . . .
seminal,”
she said, embarrassed.  “When the Everflame appeared, you built a temple to Briga around it.  When
this
happened . . .” she said, trailing off.

“You want me to build a temple to Ishi to commemorate the occasion?” I asked, a little scandalized.  Wasn’t it bad enough I’d already pledged to build her one in Vorone?  Traditionally such temples were located either in idyllic estates donated by rich and lecherous patrons, or in urban centers, where they served as sacred brothels and finishing schools for ambitious young women.  They rarely appeared in quaint mountain towns.

“Not a full temple, perhaps,” she reasoned, “but a shrine, certainly.  One should not let such divine attention pass unnoted.  A pretty shrine to commemorate Ishi’s blessing.  Maybe a single priestess and a few noviates, nothing extreme.  But they could contend with the . . . outcome of the affair.  There will be children who result.  Some will find their births problematic.  The shrine could serve as a point at which such children could be sent to orphanages,” she suggested.  “Our abbey runs one such, and there has been discussion of opening a second.  This might be the occasion to bring that discussion forward.”

“With the Temple of Ishi?” I asked, confused.

She smiled indulgently.  “Believe it or not, there is a lot of quiet cooperation between our temples.  Particularly concerning orphans.  Sex and motherhood are, after all, inextricable entwined.  Many of our best priestesses were once initiates of Ishi’s order, in their youth.  Such a shrine as I propose would be a method of honoring the Binder of Hearts and helping fund the support the fruits of her blessing.”