Heirs of the Enemy (18 page)

Colonel Taerin’s eyes clouded with confusion. The fact that such records were kept was true, and it was something he could verify within minutes. General Forshire would not risk making such a declaration unless it was true, because he would otherwise be admitting that he was a fraud if the documents did not exist.

“Assuming the records exist,” probed the colonel, “that still leaves Kent’s accusations intact, even if he did apologize for telling me about them.”

“You are correct,” agreed Clint. “I think we can both safely assume that Kent heard the stories from my men. So what am I supposed to do about it? Should I punish my men for making wild speculations about things they do not understand?”

“Are you saying that Kent heard questions rather than statements?”

“If he heard statements of fact, they were lies. Now, my men have been known to lie, Colonel. Heck, they are all convicts, but I will give you leave to interrogate any of my men if that will fill your need for interrogations. What I have a problem with, is you asking questions of others outside my command. Even innocent questions can call my loyalty into doubt, and I cannot stand idly by while you besmirch my reputation. I would be forced to demand a court of inquiry to settle the matter once and for all.”

“Are you prepared to do that?” asked the colonel.

“No man likes to draw attention to himself in such a way,” sighed General Forshire, “but if you leave me no choice, yes.”

“I want to believe you, Forshire, but these allegations are serious.”

“More serious than you can imagine, Colonel. If I am forced into a court of inquiry, I will demand that Kent return to Despair to testify. I fear that would endanger his life. Grand General Kyrga does not want to ever see him again.”

Colonel Taerin sighed deeply.

“Let’s go through the allegations,” suggested Clint as he reached into his pouch and extracted the melted coins he had retrieved from the cabin fire. He handed the coins to the colonel. “Those are the coins taken from the rebel mage. Among those present when they were retrieved were General Tauman and several of his black-cloaks. As he happens to be in the palace right now, you can easily verify that he was there.”

“But you could have placed them on the body beforehand,” Colonel Taerin pointed out.

“They were found on the body of a mage,” retorted the general. “Just how do you suppose I could place those coins on a mage before I killed her?”

“What if she was long dead?”

“Then who cast the magic that brought General Tauman and his mages running towards the battle scene? Am I now being accused of being a mage as well? Or do you suspect one of my convicts of being a mage?”

“It was battlefield magic that caused Tauman to respond?”

“It is all in the report I filed with Grand General Kyrga.” Clint nodded.

“Alright,” conceded the colonel, “but what about the loyalty of your men. Kent stated that they are more loyal to you than the Federation. Do you deny that, too?”

“No,” smiled Clint. “That is actually rather accurate.”

“Soldiers are supposed to place loyalty to the Federation over all else.”

“The Federation threw my men into prisons,” countered Clint. “I got them released. Who would you expect them to be loyal to? I figure that as long as they are loyal to me, they will have no choice but to be loyal to the Federation as well. The A Corps is not exactly a model army, Taerin. If their worst fault is being loyal to their general, be very glad that they are under my command.”

Colonel Taerin thought for a moment and finally nodded in agreement. “I am truly sorry for doubting you, General Forshire. I guess I tend to see conspiracies where none exist.”

“There are other conspiracies afoot?” frowned the general.

“I am very concerned about the emperor,” stated Colonel Taerin. “He does not seem himself any more.”

“I am sure that there is a great deal of stress involved with a week of celebrations in the palace.”

“That would not cause the emperor stress,” countered the colonel. “Emperor Jaar thrives on attention. He loves it. The very fact that hundreds of people have come to the palace to celebrate would make the emperor the happiest he has been in ages, yet he does not seem happy at all. His guards have been changed permanently, and I am no longer admitted into his presence. Even when I manage to arrange a chance meeting in the celebration rooms, he turns away from me as if I am tainted with some dread disease. I have never seen him like this.”

“After we spoke on the first day of the celebration, I suspected that Kyrga might be holding the emperor prisoner, but that turned out to be false. Emperor Jaar appears to have free run of the palace. I think you are seeing problems where none exist. Perhaps he has taken exception to something you have done?”

“If he has,” sighed the colonel, “I cannot imagine what it is. Would you be willing to speak to him for me?”

“Certainly,” agreed General Forshire. “I shall do so right now.”

The colonel nodded thankfully, but remained seated as Clint rose and strode back to the mansion. He entered the building and made his way straight to the emperor’s office. The guards stationed outside the doors refused to admit General Forshire.

“He asked not to be disturbed.”

“It is a matter of some importance,” lied Clint. “Will you at least let him know that I am here and want to talk to him?”

“We are not allowed to do so,” replied the guard. “Make your request to Grand General Kyrga. Maybe he can arrange a meeting.”

Clint frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but he halted as he thought better of starting a confrontation. He nodded dutifully and returned to the bench near the waterfront. Colonel Taerin was still there waiting to hear what happened.

“The guards would not even announce me. I was told to speak to Grand General Kyrga to schedule an appointment.”

“Something is wrong,” declared the colonel. “One doesn’t go from being fired to suddenly arranging who gets to see the emperor. Kyrga has some hold over the emperor.”

The male fairy soared westward through the dark night sky. He didn’t bother to look down at the vast expanse of water under him, nor did his gaze vary left or right. His tired eyes focused solely on the tall volcano straight ahead of him, although it was not a volcano in the normal sense. It was the Mountain of Death and its icy blue slopes had never seen lava flowing down them. While it certainly had a crater in place of its peak, the Sword of Heavens, and not a volcanic eruption, had caused the deformity. Inside the cone of the mountain was Alcea’s greatest secret. It was inside the Mountain of Death that the lower half of Alutar remained frozen like an unfinished statue.

The male fairy, weary from the long flight, glided down into the cone of the Mountain of Death. He lighted on the lower half of Alutar, and a female fairy soared excitedly to meet him.

“You are late,” scowled the female fairy. “I was to be relieved two days ago.”

“It is not my fault,” sighed the male fairy. “Prince Midge is gathering fairies from all over Alcea for an important mission. I was not given permission to relieve you until just this morning.”

“This morning?” frowned the female fairy. “But that means that you must have flown all the way from Tagaret without stopping in Dalek.”

“That is exactly what I did. I am tired.”

“Poor thing,” soothed the female fairy. “Maybe I can make it up to you?”

The male fairy’s eyes grew large with excitement, but he sighed and shook his head. “I am too tired for anything but sleep right now. I doubt that I will wake up before you are gone.”

“Then I will stick around for a day,” grinned the female fairy. “I am due for a month off after this shift. I can spend it anywhere I want.”

“Not if Prince Midge runs across you.”

“Then I am definitely going to spend a few more days here. I haven’t had any time off in a year.”

“Why do you need time off when you get to spend a month at a time out here with nothing to do?”

“That is the problem,” scowled the female fairy. “There is absolutely nothing to do out here. It is boring. No one ever comes to visit. Fairies aren’t meant to live alone. We are very social creatures.”

The fairies were so involved with their conversation that they did not notice the scores of crows gathering on the rim of the volcano. The birds leaped into the cone en masse. The fairies heard the flapping of wings and looked up in surprise, but they never even had time to defend themselves or flee. The crows attacked instantly, tearing the small fairy bodies apart with their beaks. With the fairies dispatched, the crows landed on the floor of the chamber, and one by one they transformed into black-cloaks. When they were finished transforming, one-hundred black-cloaks stood around the lower half of Alutar.

“I want this done quickly,” ordered Seiko, the leader of the expedition. “Half of you will position yourselves on the rim up above and the other half down here. We will levitate Alutar out of the mountain and onto the ship below. Remember that it is our Master that you are levitating. Do not be careless, but I want to set sail by dawn. With any luck, it will be a month before their loss is discovered, but we cannot depend upon that. I want our ship well away from this island when they do discover Alutar missing.”

The black-cloaks worked through the night to move the massive bulk of Alutar’s lower half. When they finally set it down on the huge ship, the ship settled low in the water. Only inches of freeboard remained, and the captain of the ship frowned deeply.

“It is far heavier than we were led to believe,” complained the captain. “This ship is not large enough to handle it.”

“This ship will handle it,” declared Seiko. “It fits on the deck and the water is not coming over the rails.”

“Aye,” sighed the captain, “but will the ship move? It wasn’t designed to sit so low in the water. Even with the sails full of wind, we may not be able to make headway against the currents.”

“My men will keep your sails full of wind,” promised Seiko. “You just steer us towards Zara.”

* * * *

Fakir Aziz led his band of mages through the filthy slums of Farmin. As they walked down the street, people warily moved into the shadows, their eyes peeking nervously at the strangers as they passed by.

“This is not what I would call a warm welcome,” Atule commented anxiously, his eyes constantly scanning the dark places for signs of an ambush. “Are you sure that you know where you are going, Fakir?”

“Mind your step, Master Atule,” Crystil replied sneeringly. “You are in danger of soiling that magnificent robe.”

Atule looked down at the filthy street with disgust. The street reminded him more of an open sewer than a roadway in one of the major cities of the Federation. He hoisted his robe a bit higher and tightly cinched it.

“I was not referring to the waste at our feet,” he retorted. “I am more concerned with an unprovoked altercation. There must be a better route to get to our destination.”

“Perhaps you could snap your fingers and transport us far away,” cackled the witch.

Atule narrowed his eyes as he glared at the old hag. He was not sure what he had done to raise the woman’s ire, but her constant sniping was beginning to get on his nerves. The Mage ignored the banter as he continued to lead the group through the never-ending maze of streets and alleys. Eventually, he halted near a major intersection. He turned and faced the group.

“This is our destination,” he announced. “Get settled in. I will be back later.”

Most of the group nodded with acceptance, but Atule frowned deeply as he slowly pivoted in a complete circle, examining each building closely. When he had completed his inspection, Fakir was gone.

“What is he talking about?” Atule asked the others. “Which of the buildings is our destination, and why are we here?”

“Our destination is not a building,” Kalmar replied sympathetically. “We are here to aid the poor and ill as best we can. We will live on the street until we can find someplace better.”

“You can’t be serious?” balked Atule as he looked down at the filth.

“Oh,” said Crystil, “perhaps we can all join together and create a great tower for Master Atule? That way he will not have to get dirty.”

Valera raised a hand to her mouth to hide her giggling. Kalmar glanced from Crystil to Atule and back with furrows of confusion marring his brow. Eulena merely raised an eyebrow and waited to see what Atule’s reaction would be. Zynor walked between Atule and Crystil. He turned towards the witch with a smile on his lips.

“If you could teach me how to make one of those brooms you made in Valdo, I would be happy to help you get started.”

Crystil had been glaring at Atule, but Zynor’s intervention forced her to focus on him. She sighed and nodded at Zynor’s suggestion. She turned and began gathering bits of straw. Atule turned to Kalmar for answers.

“What is really expected of us?”

“We are here to heal the people,” answered the Koroccan mage, “and feed the poor if we are able. We did something similar in Valdo a while ago. We managed to scrape up enough gold to rent a building and make an infirmary and kitchen out of it, but we had to leave suddenly. All I managed to salvage from our operations there are some potions and ingredients to make a few more. We have no gold left to rent a building.”

“You rented a building to give away potions?” frowned Atule. “That is not an operation that is self-sustaining. Could you not have charged a token payment at least?”

“We charged exorbitant prices to the wealthy,” explained Kalmar. “We used that money to buy food for the poor. It worked rather well, but I should have put some gold aside to get started over. I don’t suppose you have any gold to spare?”

“A few coins only,” replied Atule. “I was not aware that I would be required to purchase anything other than a meal or two. I should have been warned.”

“A few coins will have to do,” Eulena said as she joined the conversation. “Are you adept at healing?”

“It has been ages since I had a need to use the healing arts,” answered Atule. “I preferred cultivating plants to provide restoratives to the people of Atule’s Maze. That made them more self-sufficient.”