Lesson of the Fire (49 page)

Ari reached the small hut where Erika’s
parents stayed. They cringed when they saw him. All the Mar of the
Protectorates did, making Ari wonder what Robert had made them see
when they looked upon his Mar apprentice.

“I am sending you with a message for Sven
Takraf. Tell him Weard Robert Wost has captured his wife and
daughter, together with the Protectorates. If he does not come to
Tortz alone, we will sell everyone here as slaves, starting with
his family. Do you understand?”

They sobbed as they scraped and bowed before
him, assuring him that they certainly did. Ari recoiled in a
mixture of horror and disgust even as he called the myst and sent
them both into the Tempest.

Is Robert’s enchantment truly
unbreakable?

The enchanter claimed that only proof of his
death could break his hold on the slaves he made, but that was a
convenient fiction. Ari knew enough about the mysdyn of Presence
and Wisdom to recognize that.

Of course he would want us to believe that
our army would turn against us if we killed him. If it is a spell,
it is self-sustaining, but it can be broken. If it is nothing but a
form of elaborate torture, then it can be resisted.

Ari removed a flask of morutsen from his
cloak and went to renew Robert’s less brutal hold over the Mardux’s
wife and daughter.

Chapter 40

“
We hear, tell and live stories, and
those stories shape each other. The stories we hear change the
stories we tell and live. The stories we tell change the stories we
hear and live. The stories we live change the stories we tell and
hear. My gift lies in sometimes knowing how one story will affect
another, but every story I tell changes me as surely as it alters
my audience.”

— Pondr,

Collected Journals,
edited by Weard Asa Sehtah

It took two spans for Ragnar’s wizards to
inspect and assimilate the Domus army. He demanded sworn oaths of
each of them — to obey him without fail until the Mass no longer
threatened Marrishland. Volund’s last remaining son swore no oaths
in return.

If Ragnar had doubted that Horsa Verifien
was the same person who had thwarted him at every turn during the
Teleport War, a few war councils pushed aside all uncertainty. The
priest was unflaggingly loyal to the Mardux and to the Duxy of
Domus, but he was also a competent strategist and a skilled
magic-wielder. Now that he had allied himself with his rival
general, Horsa had put all his knowledge at Ragnar’s disposal. The
range of their reconnaissance had already doubled, and the Flasten
army even adopted some of the Domus wizards’ formations and small
group tactics.

At last, the united army was ready to march
on his command. Ragnar stood before the highest-ranking wizards in
the command tent. Horsa and the most powerful Domus wizards were
among those assembled.

“I bring grave news from Flasten Palus. Dux
Volund Feiglin and Weard Ketil Wenigar are dead — assassinated by
Mardux Takraf or one of his close allies,” Ragnar said.

It was all he could do not to sneer at
Horsa’s shocked expression.

You see now the kind of master you
serve?

“The ochres of the Dead Swamps, sensing the
weakness of our duxy, have invaded the Duxy of Flasten and have
laid siege to Flasten Palus. As my father’s sole heir, I lay claim
to his lands and title — Dux of Flasten. My first loyalty is to my
people.” Ragnar paused, watching his allies’ faces. Only Horsa’s
eyes grew wide in rage.

“We will return to the Duxy of Flasten to
drive out these Drakes that threaten our homes and families. We
will hasten our march east using the applications that served us so
well in the Teleport War.”

Horsa could contain himself no longer. “The
Mass marches on Domus Palus, Weard Groth. This was not a part of
our agreement!”

“Our agreement, as you call it, was your
oath before the Oathbinder and your patron that you would obey me
as an apprentice does his master until the Mass’s invasion comes to
an end. You surrendered to me, Weard Verifien, not the other way
around, so unless you wish to add ‘oathbreaker’ to your long list
of titles, as well as ‘slave’ and possibly ‘shade,’ I suggest you
get used to obeying my orders.”

Horsa glared but kept his silence.

I may yet come to your
duxy’s rescue, Weard Verifien, but not at the expense of my
own,
Ragnar thought.

“Are you still a priest of Marrish?” Ragnar
asked.

Horsa’s teeth were clenched as he spoke.
“Until I die in his service, yes. I respectfully disagree with your
strategy and ask that you at least let me lead the wizards of Domus
to defend their own homeland.”

“A surrender, once accepted, is not simply
withdrawn by the loser. I will need your wizards to deal with this
threat. I leave it to you to see that they obey the oaths that bind
them as they bind you.”

“As you command, Weard Groth.”

“Not Weard Groth. I am Dux Groth now.”

* * *

Erbark waited restlessly in the tiny bedroom
provided for him in the Bastion. He had waited for Nightfire to
agree to initiate an inquisition of Tortz, and that had proven
worthwhile. But the duxess had refused him an audience for a year
and had refused to let him leave. Actually, strictly speaking she
hadn’t told him he couldn’t go, but she hadn’t offered to have
anyone teleport him out of the Bastion, either, and Erbark didn’t
have the mastery of mysdyn and tordyn that would have required.

They hold me prisoner unofficially, because
their code will not allow them to do it officially. Like their
ancestors invented the marsord to let their assassins get around
duxy rules against killing Mar with magic.

The wizards of Pidel were polite hosts, but
none of them seemed to have any knowledge or interest in the world
beyond the windowless walls of the Bastion. Having spent several
years living in the Takraf Protectorates, Erbark was not used to
information vacuums. While he waited on the pleasure of the duxess,
the Duxy of Flasten could have invaded Domus, for all he knew.
There was a timid knock on the door.

At last!

“Enter.”

A yellow with a shaved head and a small grey
beard peeked in as though expecting Erbark to cut his head off.

“The duxess has agreed to an audience at
your convenience.”

Erbark was on his feet before the words were
out of the man’s mouth. He followed the priest through the
labyrinthine corridors of the Bastion. Even after nearly a year, he
still got lost. All the doors and hallways looked the same, and the
entire fortress was largely unornamented, leaving him with no way
to get his bearings. A mapmaker would have preferred the Fens of
Reur on a foggy night to this. The priest opened a door into a room
Erbark remembered from his first day at the Bastion. The duxess was
waiting for him.

“Good afternoon, Weard Lasik.”

“Good afternoon, Duxess Zaun. Have you come
to a decision?”

“Yes. I am sorry for making you wait so
long. I received a report hours ago that Domin himself could not
fail to recognize as a clear sign from the gods.”

Erbark felt a chill pass through his body.
He froze rigid for several seconds before speaking. “What sign is
that, duxess, and how do you interpret it?”

“The last wizards of Domus Palus have sought
refuge here in the Duxy of Pidel.”

Erbark shook his head. “What do you
mean?”

“The Mardux’s adepts broke their oaths and
rebelled against their rightful rulers. Mar have spilled the blood
of Mar, and Domus Palus is a place of anarchy and barbarism where
once it was a center of law and order. Dux Verlren only barely
escaped the city to tell us of Mardux Takraf’s terrible
deception.”

Erbark clenched his fists. “Adepts?
Rebellion? Deception? What has been happening while I have been
here?”

The duxess smiled slightly. “I see your
master has not told you all his plans, Weard Lasik. Dux Verlren
told me everything. The Mardux took advantage of Flasten’s invasion
to create an elaborate ruse to convince the duxes the Mass was
invading. Under this false pretense, they stripped the Duxies of
Flasten and Pidel of their seats on the Council. This allowed the
Mardux to pass an amendment to Bera’s Unwritten Laws that permits
mundanes to learn the rudiments of magic. He has raised an army of
these magic-wielding mundanes — which he calls adepts — and now
they have driven all the wizards out of Domus Palus.”

Erbark spoke slowly, hoping his voice was
not shaking. “And how do you interpret this turn of events,
duxess?”

“The Mardux’s claim that he is the Guardian
is a false one, and he will be punished justly for his crimes. His
adepts are apprentices who wield magic beyond their knowledge and
station — a crime whose penalty is death by fire. Weard Takraf and
his closest conspirators will suffer the same fate. Though a
staunch supporter of your master in the past, Dux Verlren has asked
me to help him raise an army to crush the adepts’ rebellion and
oust the Mardux by force, if necessary.”

The first time Pidel takes a side in any war
in centuries, and she sides with Sven’s enemies. What does that say
about the duxess, and what does it say about Sven?

“Clearly the Mardux was not completely frank
with me on certain details of his plan, and I do not agree with all
his methods of accomplishing his objectives. Nevertheless, if he
claims the Mass is invading, I would believe him. March to Domus
Palus with all your legions of wizards, Duxess Zaun. You will
provide welcome reinforcements as the Mardux’s adepts face the
Mass.”

“If indeed the Mass besieges Domus Palus, it
is because the increased number of magic-wielding Mar drew the Mass
down from the north. If the Mass has come to punish the Mardux for
his pride and recklessness, Pidel will not interfere with the will
of the gods.”

I see faith and cowardice
go hand in hand!
Erbark fumed silently, but
he didn’t dare speak his mind.

“We are wizards, and it is difficult enough
to convince two weards to agree on anything, much less an entire
nation of us. You are clearly already decided on this matter, so
there is nothing I can do to change your mind. I will fight the
Mass until my body is spent, and then I will fight it until my soul
is used up, too. Send me to Domus Palus so I can resume my service
to my liege.”

“And let the Mardux know we march against
him? I do not think so, Weard Lasik.”

“I will march with your wizards, duxess. I
go to fight the Drakes, not to warn the Mardux.”

“I insist you remain an honored guest in the
Bastion.”

“And there is no condition under which you
will release me? I am not without my uses or resources.”

“There is one condition under which I will
gladly teleport you back to Domus Palus.”

“Name it.”

She did, and it was all Erbark could do not
to bear steel against her, duxess or not.

“You would have me make an oath to violate
yet another of my oaths. Domin take you, then, and may the dark
dead rebel against you!”

She shrugged. “Then do not tell me I did not
give you a choice, Weard Lasik.”

Sven, I’ve failed you!

He stormed out and headed toward his cell of
a room. A familiar wizard in red sat in a chair near his bed. This
time, Erbark really did draw his marsord. His limbs froze before he
could attack, though.

“Peace in the swamp, Weard Lasik,” Arnora
said, smirking. The door slammed and locked behind him. “It would
be best if no one knew you had a visitor.”

“How dare you!” he snarled, wrestling for
Elements to counter the magic holding him.

“I mean you no harm, Weard Lasik,” she
assured him. “I cannot imagine how, shall we say, creatively the
Mardux will deal with me if I kill his most trusted friend. If I
release you, will you put up your weapon and negotiate with me? You
will find me more malleable than the duxess.”

“Very well,” Erbark said, and the pressure
on his limbs instantly vanished. True to his word, he slid the
marsord back into its shin sheath.

“What do you want from me?”

“Straight to the point. I can see why Weard
Takraf likes having you around. Very well, I ask for nothing more
than a full pardon.”

“For aiding Volund’s rebellion? You do not
seem the type to be troubled by conscience, Weard Stoltz.”

“Volund is dead and his rebellion with him.
The Mardux has killed most of the reds who were loyal to Flasten,
and it is only a matter of time before the others suffer the same
fates. Perhaps you have noticed how he treats those whom he
considers enemies? I would rather not die for a cause I know to be
lost.”

“And in return, you will send me to Domus
Palus to fight the Mass?”

Arnora sighed. “If you think it is the best
course of action, yes, I will.”

“You do not believe it is.”

“Do not misunderstand me, Weard Lasik. It is
a good course of action, but why bring just a warning to the Mardux
when you can bring a warning to the Mardux and his enemies at
once?”

“I am no assassin.”

“I know that. Weard Takraf sent you as an
envoy, and his envoy you will be — just to a different duxy.”

“Why would they help Sven?”

“Why? For the same reason as I would —
self-interest. The Dux of Wasfal borrows as much as he lends, and
if the Mass wipes out his debtors, his foreign creditors will
quickly lose patience with him. So, have I earned that pardon?”

Chapter 41

“
Recognizing the shape of a story is not
the same as knowing the future, for every story heard or told
changes the lived story. Sven Takraf lived a stubborn story, but I
thought that with the right stories, I could save him from his
fate. His tale has ensnared me, and I fear I may have absorbed some
of his hubris. Can I still see the shape of his story well enough
to change it, or has his pride become mine, blinding me to the
damage I am doing to him with every tale we share?”