Nightlord: Shadows (125 page)

The sword was another enchantment, mainly duplicating the metallurgy and magic in the swords of my three personal guards. She should find it was amazingly energizing whenever she killed something.

Bob was pleased to see me and reported nothing unusual. The Empire of the Undermountains was rather shaky in a political sense. What with the change in leadership and policies, it was easiest to just dump outlying regions. His focus was on keeping control over everything near Vathula and south of the pass.

His initial worry was that he wasn’t thinking big enough—he was afraid I wanted him to held everything possible. I reassured him I was pleased with his work, made a few appearances to help cement his authority, played Evil Overlord for the public sacrifices/executions (he had some “traitors” to kill; they were adequate as dinner), and basically added another layer of “Do what he says” to everything.

T’yl and Tort had no news about the cannon, which annoyed T’yl greatly. I think he’s affronted at being blocked by “mere wizards.” But Tort had some lovely street-scale maps of the various cities and towns in Byrne’s territory. She also wanted to know if I could get her a brick or something from each city at some point. I promised to see what I could do. I didn’t ask what she wanted them for; I assume there’s something magical involved. She’s the Royal Magician, after all.

Everything else was terribly mundane and uninteresting, which was exactly as I’d hoped.

The march was going well, all things considered, and the new troops were integrating into our organizational structure with adequate speed. If we kept to schedule, we would arrive in Tegron today, hopefully with less complexity and treachery than in Philemon. We wouldn’t be quite all sorted out regarding the smoothness of our communications and control, but we didn’t think it would be tested for a while, yet.

Oh, and my armor fits much better, now. Tort does excellent work.

As promised, I was back before dawn. Lissette woke up, watched me turn back into a living monster instead of an undead one, and seemed less bothered by it. She also thanked me for enchanting her sword, drew it, and looked puzzled. The design was identical but the metal looked different, of course.

I encouraged her to try it, carefully. She got the hang of wielding a monomolecular-edged weapon with surprising speed and at the cost of only one footlocker-chest. I could tell that the militant policies of her father, Larsus, had permitted a lot of training at arms for his daughter.

“This is amazing!” she declared.

“They’re still rare,” I told her. “I have one; my personal guard each have one. But every knight of Karvalen has a magical weapon of some sort.”

“That’s... I don’t know what to call it.
Every
knight?”

“Yep. I’ve worked on that for a while. It seems I sometimes enchant things in my sleep. But the super-sharp ones are new.”

“I thank you for it. Shall I swear to you?” she asked, smiling. “After all, you gave me a sword.”

“No. You’re the Queen. You’re not a knight.”

She frowned. It distorted the line of her scar. I didn’t like it.

“If I am the Queen, should I not be accorded the honors of a knight?”

“No. Queen is a different job. I’m not sure you’re qualified to be a knight.”

“Is that so?” she asked, voice silky and dangerous. “Shall we step outside?”

“I’m not talking about your martial skills.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Ask around. Talk to my knights. Discover that for yourself, then come tell me what you think a knight of Karvalen is.”

“This sounds like some sort of test,” she said, suspiciously.

“It is.”

She snorted in a most unladylike fashion, dressed, and stomped out to go question people.

The city of Tegron is a nice place. It shares a border with Vathula, though, so it can be excused for having impressive defenses. They’ve built fortifications that rival the old capitol, Carrillon. It seems they always have a work crew building something new into the fortifications. Over the years and decades, that adds up to impressive, bordering on intimidating. I know I wouldn’t want to assault their walls without cannon; they may be what inspired Byrne to come up with a new siege weapon in the first place. The ponds, the causeways, the walls… the whole defensive arrangement encourages discouragement if not a complete collapse of morale.

I was getting into a warrior-king mindset. I could tell, because I automatically started thinking about how I would breach the place to invade it. Preferably, I’d fly over or tunnel under; going through did not look like a profitable line of attack.

The roads around Tegron start to become worthy of the appellation about seven miles from the walls. While they’re not
good
roads, they have some scattered paving, packed gravel, and are slightly raised. I decided this was to facilitate transport from outlying villages and farms. I started liking Prince Seraclin on that basis alone. Infrastructure is vital to a healthy economy.

We closed ranks into marching formation as we came into sight of the place, started the musicians going, and sang some of the more cheerful marching songs. We were spotted instantly, I feel sure, but that was at least partly the point; I didn’t want to sneak up on them. We’re a friendly force, in theory. Still, it took them half an hour—or about a quarter of the distance we had to travel—before they sent out a greeting party.

After confirming our identity, our mission, our intentions, and our schedule, we were invited to pass through the south gate, pick up supplies and a platoon of volunteers, and proceed out through the north gate. We could camp on the north fields, which were lying fallow this season. We agreed, did as requested, and we picked up a messenger from the palace while we were at it. Naturally, I was invited to dine with the Prince.

This is starting to feel familiar.

I showed up to dinner with Lissette. She didn’t have anything feminine and formal to wear, of course, but with her hair braided and tucked up under her helmet, armor could be considered formal. Everyone we met in Tegron treated it as formal, anyway. It’s possible they just didn’t want to risk offending a lady by rude comments.

Prince Seraclin had his wife, Lady Merinde, with us for dinner. I wasn’t certain if she had been included at the last second, because of Lissette, or if he had intended to have her join us all along. She kept quiet through most of the meal, however, and seemed uncomfortable.

As usual, the conversation turned to the legends of nightlords in general and the rumors, stories, tales, and other stuff going around about me in particular. I manfully concealed my irritation at having to go through this sort of thing yet again and did my best to answer politely and with a cheerful tone.

Maybe I should write a book.

Seraclin, for his part, seemed a pretty reasonable guy. He had that charisma that made people aware of his authority without the bother of introductions. He wasn’t physically imposing, but you knew he was there the moment he walked into the room. He wore his hair moderately long and held back by a diadem. He was clean-shaven and had a wide, friendly smile that seemed to be genuine. I think he just liked people on general principles.

He was new to the Prince business, having inherited the place two years ago; his major goal in life was to continue enhancing the economic prosperity of the princedom, and therefore of his people. I always thought that if you enhanced the people’s economic prosperity, the realm would automatically profit by it. Then again, I’m not an economist, and despite being a blood-sucking parasite, I’m not a politician, either.

All in all, it was a good dinner. We established that Karvalen and Tegron could profitably trade with each other, and that Vathula was unlikely to be a problem in the near future. That surprised him.

“
Galgar
come down from the Eastrange and steal things all the time,” Seraclin pointed out. “My grandfather commissioned a digging project to divert a portion of the Caladar to form a river-moat along our eastern border, just to put a stop to that.”

“Did it work?”

“It was decided that the ground was too difficult. Lots of forest and rocky land in that region. Instead, we helped the villages along the eastern border build timber walls. That doesn’t stop the
galgar
from coming down to the farm, but it keeps the valuables behind a wall.”

“I’ll have a word with Vathula,” I promised. “The thievery won’t stop, but I’ll make sure they all know they’ll be punished for it.” I shrugged. “Thieves know they’ll be punished if they’re caught, but they do it anyway. It may not help much, but we’ll try.”

“I am gratified by your kindness.”

“Do I detect an ironic tone?”

“A trifle of unintentional irony, perhaps. You are one of the dark kings, after all. Please pardon me.”

“Of course. So, now that we’ve had dinner, negotiated for the mutual profit of our realms, and taken the measure of each other, what do you think? Am I the blood-drinking monster of legends, come to suck the life out of your city and consume the souls of everyone who lives in it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. I hate to telegraph things like that.”

“Tele—?”

“I hate to give people that impression.”

“Ah. And what do you think?”

“I think you’re a conscientious ruler and you want what’s best for your people. You’re a bit concerned with military matters, but that’s reasonable. There are other concerns, from trade to education to religion, and you’re aware of it and working on them, but they have to take second place to keeping people alive. Am I wrong?”

“No,” he said, thoughtfully. “No, I can see that. It’s not a complete picture, of course.”

“Naturally not, but it’s good enough for me to go on with. We brought a magic mirror for you, or your court wizard if you don’t want to do it yourself. You can reach Karvalen through it and have your people talk to my people. If you need to, you can usually talk directly to me. I figure it will help communicate quickly and accurately—it should beat having to send a letter on horseback, anyway.”

“Indeed. But may I ask a military question?”

“Shoot.”

“I noticed banners from Philemon mixed in with your own.”

“Yes?”

“I assume Larsus parted with those troops in exchange for something.” He nodded toward Lissette. “Would I be right?”

“Yep. Larsus wanted me married off in exchange for becoming a baron of Karvalen. He got it, and I got most of his army. He didn’t expect that I would also get a good queen out of the deal.”

Lissette bit her lips, trying not to smile. I pretended not to notice. Seraclin also pretended not to notice, probably because he didn’t know what it signified.

“I take it, then, that you are not interested in marrying my daughter,” he observed. “Well, I can’t really blame the old man for jumping on that opportunity.”

“Well, as for marriage alliances, you’re welcome to send any boys between ten and fourteen to meet my granddaughter. If she likes them, we’ll discuss it.”

“Isn’t she a priestess of that fire-goddess? The Mother of Flame?”

“Not exactly. She’s a fire-witch, not a priestess.”

“I thought they were the same thing.”

“A common mistake, and one I already explained to the Mother of Flame. Tianna will be a priestess only if she feels like it.”

“Won’t the Mother of Flame have something to say about that?”

“She hasn’t had much to say about anything since we had our fight.”

There followed a thick, awkward silence. Seraclin addressed Lissette to break it.

“So, your father married you off to a king. How is that working out for you?”

“It’s difficult,” she admitted. “He’s not a normal man; he’s a Lord of Night. That’s… difficult. But he’s kind and gentle, and very understanding. I have a lot to learn about how to be… someone who… fits in to his kingdom, but I think it’s a good thing. I’ve been very lucky.”

I was blushing. Seraclin must have diplomatic training; he was expert at not noticing certain things.

“I see you’re in armor, and armed. Are you going to battle?”

“I plan to.” Lissette glanced at me. “I’m hoping to.”

“I plan to let her,” I told him. “I also plan to do some fighting of my own. I’m wasted, otherwise.”

“Yes, I heard about the
viksagi
. I would be greatly surprised to learn you did not enter battle.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “Well, this has been a wonderful dinner and an even more wonderful chat. Unfortunately, I have an army to move, a war to fight, and all sorts of magical stuff to see to. If you will excuse us?”

“Actually, there is something I wish to discuss with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Certainly. What is it?”

“I note that you are gaining lands on this side of the Eastrange. May I ask your intentions regarding the principalities of old Rethven?”

I thought about it for a minute. Larsus offered me a deal and I took it. Whether I wanted to or not…

“I’m hoping that I can be on friendly terms with all of them,” I began. “I have no desire to conquer anything. But… if a friendly trading partner decides that being a prince is less pleasant than being a duke, I won’t tell him no. I guess I’m willing to put Rethven back together as a kingdom, but I’m not willing to tear it apart further.”

Seraclin sat back and steepled his fingers. He looked at me with a frankly appraising gaze.

“Interesting,” was all he said. “Well, I shan’t keep you. I do hope we can discuss more on your political plans sometime in the future.”

“You’ve got the mirror,” I pointed out. “As soon as this thing with Byrne is over, I hope to have a little more time.”

“Yes. I should imagine.”

Lissette, of course, wanted to talk on the way out of Tegron. Her horse was shorter than Bronze by more than a foot; it was one of the light, fast horses common in the sea of grass, so she kept it close by to make conversation easier.