Heirs of the Enemy (52 page)

“I am working under the assumption that the countries of Zara will remain separate,” declared Garth. “If the people decide otherwise after the war is over, that is not my affair, but I will not let the current tyrants remain in power, and King Arik is supporting me in that regard.”

“Then who are you planning to rule Aerta?” asked Headman.

“General Alden is the heir to the throne,” answered Garth. “I have heard that he is level-headed and reasonable. Is that a fair statement?”

“General Alden is not a bad man,” conceded Headman. “He does not possess the ruthlessness of his father, but he has faithfully carried out the orders of the Federation. If he were to be the leader of Aerta, I think the people would need some assurances that he would not follow in King Anator’s footsteps.”

“We are a long way from conquering the Federation,” replied Garth. “Currently, that seems to be an unattainable dream, but should it come to pass, it will be the people of Aerta who will choose their ruler.”

“I can ask for no more than that,” smiled Headman. “Although I am an elf, I have made Aerta my home. My thieves are like family to me. I think my people would react to this news as I have. We would like to be part of overthrowing King Anator and the Federation.”

“As impressive as your group is,” Garth shook his head, “it is not an army. To battle the Federation troops, Alcea will have to enlist numerous allies, and those allies will not be Aertans. Does the thought of foreign troops besieging Giza trouble you?”

Headman’s brow creased in puzzlement. “Alceans are foreign, but your tone indicates something beyond that, doesn’t it?”

Garth simply nodded.

“The horse countries are the only foreigners that I can think of that are not a part of the Federation. Are they to be involved?”

“Does that thought bother you?” asked Garth.

The elven thief thought for a moment and eventually shook his head. “Not really. Aerta and Sirocca had a long friendly relationship before the Sands of Eternity buried the Siroccans forever. Some of the survivors even founded Olansk, our second largest city. As long as the horse countries are destroying the Federation and not plundering Aerta, I would accept their attack with open arms. Is that the case?”

“The horse countries express no claim on the boundaries of Aerta,” Garth replied. “They seek to wage war on the Federation because the Federation seeks to annihilate them. There are others in the alliance, but now is not the time to discuss them.”

“I understand,” replied Headman. “Still, all of the major cities of the Federation are walled cities. The hardest part of any attack would be the breaching of those walls. Have you given any consideration to the fact that you have allies inside those walls?”

“Thieves are not warriors,” Garth replied, “but yes, I have thought about groups such as yours. There might be a part to play for the thieves when the time comes, but I do not expect your men to become warriors overnight.”

“You may be underestimating us,” replied Headman. “Most of my men were not born as thieves. They come from all walks of life, including the army. They were driven to stealing by need, but they consider themselves more patriotic than the soldiers are. The Federation soldiers will do whatever Emperor Jaar commands them to do, whether that is good for Aerta or not. My people will be true to the Aertan people.”

“Your people steal from the Aertan citizens,” Natia pointed out.

“That is true,” conceded Headman, “but they steal to survive. Help us bring a righteous king to the throne, and the thieves will disperse. One of the benefits of letting us get involved in the overthrow of the Federation is the effect it will have on my men. They will no longer look upon themselves as thieves. They will have stepped up and taken a stand for Aerta. Let us be a part of this victory.”

“The risk of letting your men know the truth is too great,” retorted Garth. “If one of your men gets arrested and speaks of an attack on Giza, everything we are planning will be endangered.”

“Then we will not tell them the whole truth,” Headman smiled thinly. “If I were to come up with a suitable cover story, would you provide trainers for my men?”

“How many would you need?” Garth asked, suddenly curious about what the thief had in mind.

“Just a handful. My men are already quick on their feet, and most of them have considerable strength. They need professional tutoring to understand the difference between a running skirmish with the soldiers and a prolonged battle that requires tactical coordination. They also need instructions on weapons handling, but you will find them quick learners.”

“Let’s suppose that I could supply five or six highly-skilled men. What would you do with them?”

“I would tell my people that we need to expand our operations to the highways outside of Giza. Becoming highway bandits would require them to be trained as warriors. Those who have skills already suitable for the task would be the first to respond. Your men would train them and then they would help train the others. When spring arrives, you would have a small army inside the walls of each of the major cities of the Federation.”

“You are talking about more than just Giza?” asked Tedi.

“Why not?” replied Headman. “The other cities are not much different than Giza. For the investment of a couple dozen warriors, you will have armies allied with you inside each of the major cities.”

Garth smiled broadly as he suddenly warmed to the idea. “There will be one caveat to your plan. One of the men that I send to each city will become a close confidant of the leader of the thieves. It will be through that one man that I keep contact with the group. He will not try to usurp your authority, but you must treat him almost as a partner. Is that something that you can accept?”

Headman hesitated as he thought about the ramifications. He was concerned about any outsider being put in such a position, but the potential for getting rid of the Federation finally overrode his resistance. He nodded in agreement.

“This changes my plans quite a bit,” Garth said. “It means that I cannot take the time to ferret out the demonkin west of the Barrier. We must kill the priest here in Giza and then turn south towards Despair.”

“You make the killing of this K’san sound like a minor task to be put behind us,” frowned Tedi, “but we still have no way of getting to him.”

* * * *

Bonnay stood on the balcony and stared down at the city of Herinak and the land beyond the walls of the city. While the streets of the city were clear of snow, the land beyond glistened and sparkled all the way to the sea. She focused on the fields of white where they met the ocean, and let her mind drift to thoughts of her homeland far to the west. She often stood on the balcony of her father’s castle and gazed at similar fields, but Herinak was on the coast, and seeing the vast body of water was thought provoking. She thought about the whispers she had been hearing about some distant land called Alcea, and she wondered what the people were like there. After a while, the chill of the air made her retreat indoors. Her thoughts turned to getting back to her suite and curling up by the fire with a good book and something warm to drink.

She smiled happily as she reentered the castle. While she was not thrilled about being isolated to a single level of the castle, Baron Stikman had been good to his word. Books were brought to her daily. She merely had to request a title, or if she wasn’t sure of a title, she could request a book on a certain topic and someone would find appropriate books for her. When she woke each morning, the books were sitting in the hallway outside the door to her suite. Food was also delivered, and she was free to request whatever she desired. The only thing missing was the chance to interact with the scholars of Herinak. As she walked towards her suite, she pondered about asking the baron to send some of the scholars up to visit with her.

As Bonnay passed by the suite of the secretive man that she had stumbled upon that first day, she saw two separate stacks of books outside his door. She knew that the sick man also had books sent up, but she was curious about him having two stacks. It seemed like a rather large number of books for one man to read, and she was curious about what type of books he might be reading. She glanced both ways to see if anyone was watching and then squatted next to the stacks. The first stack was an odd mixture of history, healing, and magic. Bonnay knew from her brief glimpse of the mysterious man that he was deathly ill, so his selection was not all that surprising, although she didn’t see how history would be of much interest to him.

When she saw the first book in the other stack, she inhaled sharply. It was a book on the geography of Alcea. Her brow creased in confusion. She had specifically asked for books on Alcea and had been told that none existed. She picked the book up to glance through the pages, and was startled to see the next book in the stack. It also was about Alcea. She quickly checked the rest of the stack and found that all of the books were about places that she had never heard of. Some were about a place called Lanoir, and others about Targa, Cordonia, and Sordoa. She had never heard of any of those places, and she mentally noted the names so that she could request the same books from the library to see what they were about. She straightened the stack of books and rose to her feet to return to her room. She did not get more than two steps before the temptation took hold of her. She turned back and stared at the books.

“He can’t possibly read them all at the same time,” she said to herself as she bent down and took the top two books off the stack, “and I can put them back here before tomorrow morning.”

Giddy with excitement, Bonnay raced back to her suite to discover everything she could about Alcea. Moments after she disappeared into her suite, the Royal Sorcerer strode along the hallway. He knocked softly on one of the doors and waited patiently until it was answered. A moment later the door opened and Zalaharic stepped into the corridor. The two mages talked softly as they made their way to Prince Harold’s room. While Sigfrid knocked on the door, Zalaharic bent down and picked up the two stacks of books. Together, the mages entered the suite and closed the door. Prince Harold smiled as they entered the room.

“So you have finally decided to get out of bed,” quipped Sigfrid. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I have ever felt,” smiled Prince Harold, “and I have the two of you to thank for that.”

Zalaharic set the two sets of books down on a table. “Keep those piles separate. One set is to be returned to the library here in Herinak Castle, but the other stack must be returned to another place.”

Prince Harold raised an eyebrow. “And where would that other place be?”

Zalaharic merely smiled.

“Take off your clothes and get into bed,” Sigfrid said. “I want to examine you.”

Prince Harold started to protest that he felt fine, but he realized that the mages were best suited to determine that for themselves. He walked into his sleeping chamber, disrobed., and settled onto the bed. Sigfrid thoroughly checked his body for sores or discoloration. When he was done, he nodded with satisfaction.

“You need to get out in the sun a bit, but I see nothing wrong with you.”

“I want one last chance to detect any lingering traces of the disease,” declared Zalaharic. “Close your eyes, Prince Harold.”

“One last chance?” frowned the prince. “Are you leaving me?”

“If the disease is no longer present,” answered the elven healer, “you no longer require my presence.”

“I am sure that there are others who require the healing powers of Zalaharic,” interjected Sigfrid. “He has dallied here for quite some time now.”

“I understand,” Prince Harold replied sadly. “Must you put me asleep?”

Zalaharic frowned with thought for a moment and then shook his head. “If my inspection disturbs you in any way, let Sigfrid know. He will bring me out.”

The prince nodded his understanding, and Zalaharic closed his eyes and placed his hands on the prince. Prince Harold immediately felt a tingle where the healer had placed his hands. The strange sensation radiated outward until it encompassed his entire body and then it changed. Overriding the slight tingling sensation was a more localized, and stronger, feeling in his chest. He concentrated on that feeling as it started to move through his body like a cork being pushed through a pipe filled with water. The prince marveled at the speed of the cork as it twisted through his imagined maze of pipes. The feeling never brought pain to his body, but he did feel lightheaded and dizzy when the cork reached his temple, and then it was gone. Prince Harold looked at the elf and saw him remove his hands and straighten up.

“You are a well man,” smiled the elven healer. “I concur with the Royal Sorcerer. You need sunlight, and I would add exercise.”

“I look forward to getting both,” smiled the prince. “Will I be allowed to leave the castle?”

Sigfrid frowned, but Zalaharic nodded and smiled.

“You must take steps to ensure that no one recognizes you,” suggested the elf. “Have you ever had a beard?”

“Never,” answered the prince.

“Then grow one, and find a name that will not cause the country of Ertak to spring to mind. I am sure that Sigfrid or Baron Stikman can come up with some alternate identity for you. When you do go out, start slowly. You have not been active for years, and you should not rush things, but you will be fine.”

“I am eternally grateful to you, Zalaharic. How can I repay you?”

“You owe me nothing,” smiled the elven healer. “If you wish to be indebted to anyone, think about the people of Ertak and how you can best serve them should you ever get the opportunity. You have been given another chance at life. Remember what it was like not to have had hope or good health, for there are citizens who have neither. A wise and just ruler will do what he can to help them.”

* * * *

Brother Nicholas called permission to enter, and Brother Louis entered the room and closed the door before crossing the room and sitting in front of the desk.

“What have you found out so far?” asked Brother Nicholas.

“Your idea of letting him speak to everyone has been a good one,” Brother Louis said with a hint of surprise in his voice. “Wylan is not quick to offer information about himself, but the others have managed to learn quite a bit. He is Tyronian and used to be a soldier. He lost his eyesight during a battle when a fireball exploded near him. He is quite bitter about the loss of his sight, but he has learned to deal with it rather well. He claims that his sense of smell and hearing have improved since he was blinded.”