The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (68 page)

It was an irritating habit of the grey robe meant to belittle him, and he knew he should do something about it, but he was so grateful to see another person, even Tressing, that he’d let it pass. The grey robe had the usual blank look on his face, but by the way he wrung his hands, he was clearly agitated. Sadrin returned to his desk, a tingle of anticipation making him smile.

“You are early today, Tressing. Is there something amiss?”

Tressing bowed as briefly as he dared at the uncouth peasant that sat in the chair which should rightly have been his, and tried his best to keep the contempt from his face. “Not really, High Master.” He was damned if he was going to call this spotty boy Your Eminence. “Only word has come that King Borman has crossed Essenland’s borders with an army behind him and is moving northwards.”

“Towards the Enclave?”

“I would think not, Master Sadrin.” If the idiot boy knew anything about the Enclave he would know what a stupid question that was. “The Enclave is sacrosanct and no king would dare enter uninvited for fear of incurring the Goddess’s wrath.”

Sadrin knew Tressing was wrong, Vorgret would have come here if he’d wanted to, but his heart dropped all the same. He had so much wanted Borman to come and kneel at his feet. “Perhaps we could invite him to come here?”

Tressing had difficulty keeping the disdain from his voice. The boy was truly a whining houndling. “I believe that would be a mistake, Master Sadrin. You see with the gates closed and the armsmen on the walls, we can defend the Goddess’s city until Borman’s bones turn to dust. However, if you invite this avaricious man into the Enclave, the temple will be open to him, and there will be no defence of the Goddess’s sanctuary. His presence would defile the sacred ground that High Masters have defended with their lives since the foundation of the six kingdoms.”

He knew all about greedy men and what they could do, and he didn’t want another Vorgret ruining his city and lording it over him. On the other hand, how was he ever going to get kings to bow down to him if they were kept outside the Enclave’s gates?

The answer came to him in a moment of brilliance. If he didn’t want Borman to step inside the Enclave’s walls, then he would go to where Borman was. It wouldn’t be quite as good as having the king bow down to him whilst he sat on the throne, but, as there wasn’t a throne anyway, having him kneel in the grass was almost as good. There was an element of danger though; Borman might see him as a threat and turn his army on him, but it was unlikely. The king must have heard about his powers by now and wouldn’t want to end up like Vorgret. Sadrin smiled at the thought.

“Tressing, you are right. It would be unwise to allow King Borman into the Enclave, so I will go out and meet him.”

Tressing could have cheered. The arrogant fool was actually going to put his head in the jaws of the sly hunter. With any luck he would have it bitten off and never come back to the Enclave again. “Are you sure this is wise, High Master? What if something should happen to you?”

“It won’t, but just in case Borman does try something, I will take a troop of temple guards and a troop of armsmen with me. That should impress him.”

Or make him laugh thought Tressing. “It will leave the Enclave’s defences weakened, High Master, but you are right, you need to show this king that the Enclave is not defenceless, I shall see to it at once.”

“Oh, and Tressing, have the Lady Tarraquin and her child made ready to accompany us. She will make a fitting gift for the king.”

The grey robe hesitated for a moment trying to think of any advantage to be gained by keeping the woman and her squalling brat in the temple, but there were none. In fact, he would be glad to see the back of them. “Your will, High Master.”

*

Dozo listened to the messenger and his heart sank. He’d banked on Borman resting his troops in Parim before moving on to Vorglave, giving him enough time to find a good place to make a stand, and perhaps for Jarrul and Barrin to return with reinforcements. As it was, Borman had done the very last thing that he’d anticipated and had missed Parim out altogether, left Vorglave to its own devices, and was riding rapidly northwards. He had no idea why. If you were intending to become Essenland’s king, then surely it made sense to take Vorglave first and establish your seat of power? To leave the main city and most of the people behind you and ride north through largely deserted countryside didn’t make sense, unless there was something he wasn’t seeing.

Stanner leaned over, squeezed his hand and gave him one of those reassuring smiles that made him feel that he could do anything he put his mind to. She hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew she was pregnant, carrying their own child. He loved Ennett and Trad dearly, but to have a child that they had made together would be a blessing beyond imagination. He’d been an armsman all of his life and a loyal servant to the Enclave and then, later, to Callabris of the white. In all that time he’d never thought he would be a husband, let alone a father. There had been dalliances of course, but always his duty to his master and to the men around him came first. His duty to those he led was still there, but now there was a wife and the life she carried to think about too, and that changed things.

It was that which was making his decision what to do next so difficult. Without a wife to care for, he would have split his fighters into skirmishing groups, and they would have carried out a war of hit and run against Borman’s army, until the numbers were more even and they could make a stand. The problem with that tactic was that his wife and the wives of other men who rode with them, would insist on becoming part of the skirmishing bands and the chances of them being killed, or worse, captured, would increase rapidly. He should have left them behind in the Silver Hills where they would have been safe, but he couldn’t bear to leave Stanner there, and in any case he needed the extra numbers if they were going to have any chance of success.

If Borman had done what he’d expected, there wouldn’t have been a problem, but now he was approaching fast, forcing them back to the barren hills where there were no supplies and he didn’t know why. When he thought about it he knew that even that wasn’t true. There could only be two reasons why Borman was bringing his army north so fast. He was either going to raid the silver mines and take the wealth of Essenland for himself, or he’d heard about the army that had come out of the Silver Hills and had decided to remove any opposition before declaring himself king.

If it was the first reason, he needed to protect at least one of the working mines to secure its silver for the future. There would be enough supplies at the mine to support them for a short while, and he could make his stand there. However, if it were the second reason, he needed to move his army out of Borman’s path and try to come up behind him. Dozo sighed to himself. He’d been a good armsman and healer, and had even made a passable leader, but he’d never had to decide on a strategy before. He just wished that there was someone here who could make the decision for him, but they all relied on him now.

Dozo was still thinking about the next move when a bolt, trailing a flaming, oil-soaked ribbon cut through the darkness. He and the rest of the camp jumped to their feet and held their breath as they waited to see if there would be a second streak of fire following the first. If it came, it would mean that Borman was already here, and he wouldn’t have to make any decisions.

As it never came, they all relaxed and continued what they were doing. That is except for Dozo, who stood and waited to see who was approaching the camp. Stanner joined him, her knife in her hand just in case it was the enemy. Together they listened to the sounds of a single approaching horse and the call of the sentries as they let the rider pass. When Barrin rode into the clearing, Dozo wasn’t sure if he was glad to see him returned unharmed, or disappointed that he was on his own.

Barrin looked exhausted, and his horse looked worse, both were covered in a thick layer of dirt and looked as if they had been on the road for days without a rest. Out of habit, Dozo poured a mug of steaming herb tea and Stanner added a small amount of grain spirit before handing it to Barrin who took it gratefully. He ignored their questioning looks and swallowed the scalding liquid in large gulps, feeling it burn his parched throat and empty stomach. When he’d finished, he handed the empty mug back to Stanner, and sat wearily on a log by the fire waiting for the other leaders to gather around.

“I gather that your mission has been unsuccessful?” began Dozo shortly. He could do without Barrin being so melodramatic, there was too much at stake.

“You could say that and more.” Barrin accepted another mug of herb tea, without the grain spirit this time, and a chunk of bread wrapped around some sort of vegetable paste. He would have preferred something more substantial, but supposed that supplies were low and this was the best that they had. “When I left here I rode north, and then followed the lower reaches of the Silver Hills west, intending to arc around and approach the Enclave from the north where the likelihood of being spotted would be less. It takes a bit longer but I thought it would be safer.

“As I reached the ridge above the Enclave, I could see there was a lot of activity. A troop of armsmen were just breaking camp outside the west gate and preparing to move out, and another troop of temple guards were gathering outside the main gate where a small train of supply wagons had assembled. After a while, they all fell into marching order together and then, almost immediately, the High Master, Sadrin the black, wearing the crimson, joined them.”

“Are you sure it was him?” asked the big man with the bushy beard who Barrin remembered from their previous meeting.

“Absolutely certain. I’ve seen the pyrocaster up close and would know him anywhere. I waited a short while and then doubled back until I intercepted the road south. It took me a day to pick up their trail and then another to catch up with them. When I did, I wished I hadn’t bothered. They met up with Borman’s army two day’s ride south of here. I waited to see what would happen, hoping that they would obliterate each other, but they didn’t. In fact they looked really chummy. The men from the Enclave shared the camp with Borman’s men, and Sadrin was welcomed into Borman’s pavilion like a long, lost friend. By then it was dark, so I turned my horse around and rode here as hard and as fast as I could. Borman cannot be more than a day behind me.”

“Shit!” growled the man with the beard.

Dozo scowled and ignored him. “How many men does Borman have?”

“Not as many as I thought he would, some must still be in Alewinder or returning from the Northern Forest, but there are still over a thousand plus those from the Enclave, and then there is Sadrin himself of course. He’s worth five hundred men just by himself.”

“So, far too many for us to fight and have any chance of winning?”

“In the open it would be suicide, but in an ambush on terrain we know, perhaps not.” Dozo raised his eyebrows in surprise and Barrin laughed. “Riding for a day and a night with only your horse for company gives you a lot of time to plan.” Dozo nodded in agreement, secretly relieved that there was someone else with whom he could now share the burden of command.

*

Sadrin sipped at his wine and tried not to grimace as the unpleasant liquid shrivelled his tongue. He’d hoped that Borman liked cider, but it seemed that the only things kings drank were sour wine and burning spirits. Still, he couldn’t complain, the king had treated him with more respect than any other person ever had. In fact, he’d treated him like an equal, which was why he’d accepted the wine and hadn’t asked for something more to his own taste. It wouldn’t do for him to give Borman the impression that he was some sort of peasant.

So far it had been a very successful day. The rider he’d sent ahead had warned Borman of his arrival, so that the king was ready to greet him as a friend and an ally. The king hadn’t actually knelt at his feet, but he had bowed low, and all his men had knelt whilst he gave them the Goddess’s blessing. He didn’t know any blessings, so he’d made it up as he went along. Nobody complained about it, rather they had all looked quite impressed and he’d enjoyed doing it. It had made him feel important, which, of course, he was. Borman had taken him into his own splendid pavilion and had his own cooks prepare a feast, one which even Vorgret would have applauded, and whilst he’d only nibbled at the rich food, he had been careful to show his appreciation.

Now others had joined them; his own troop leaders looking overwhelmed, and the two senior troop captains from Borman’s forces, who were both young and attractive. The other person was an old codger who had something to do with the absent Guardcaptain, and looked like he was destined to greet the Goddess, or alternatively visit hellden’s halls, very soon. He poured the wine and didn’t say much, but it was clear that the others were wary of him. In addition, there were six burly guards built like weiswald trees who stood around the pavilion with their hands on their sword hilts and never took their eyes off him. He wondered if he could incinerate them all before their swords cleared their scabbards. It was more than likely that he could but was glad that he wouldn’t have to put it to the test, just in case he was wrong.

“So you can see our problem,” continued Borman, interrupting his thoughts. “We cannot allow these heretics to continue with their blaspheme and go unpunished. Everything they do and everything they preach challenges the very existence of the Goddess and goes against all her tenets. If they dare to challenge the right of a king to rule, then how long will it be before they challenge the right of the High Master to be Federa’s voice in the six kingdoms? We must stop them now before they turn more people against us, or everything we stand for and everything we are will be lost.”

Sadrin nodded, distracted by the antics of the old man who he glimpsed out the corner of his eye grabbing his side and looking like he was going to vomit. He hoped he wouldn’t, the stink of someone else’s sick always brought his stomach out in sympathy, and that would be embarrassing. When he turned his attention back to Borman, he was pacing the floor, his wine goblet still in his hand.