The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (26 page)

should repeat itself, just come to me. Discreetly.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“A fine young man, the lord governor,”
the innkeeper of The Cranky

Goat thought, following Sterff.
“In fact I should pay master Lethoras.

Every time he gives a round of drinks, others start to follow his example.

They give him drinks, just for him to sing one of his ribald songs. The

girls like him. Very much so. The evenings he is there, people stay far

longer than usual. But I need the money, and, after all, he signed for it.”

Lethoras knocked and without waiting entered.

“You asked for me?” he said, sitting down on the first available

chair.

Anaxantis looked up from his documents.

“Yes. You know that tomorrow I’m leaving for the Renuvian Plains

and that I am going by Mirkadesh. Guess what? You’re going too.”

“Oh good, I’ll go pack immediately.”

“Yes, pack four hundred infantrymen and a hundred cavalry

men from the Amirathan Militia. They’re coming with us as far as

Mirkadesh, where they probably will be staying. You’re leading

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them.”

“Have them ready to march by tomorrow? Anaxantis, how long

were you planning this?”

“About a week, I think.”

“And you tell me now?”

“I thought it would be a good exercise.” Anaxantis smiled.

“Shouldn’t we be able to march on the spur of the moment? Or do

you suggest we write the Mukthars a note when they attack: ‘Please,

give us a few days to prepare as for the moment we will be unable to

resist you,’ and hope for the best?”

Lethoras grinned.

“No, you’re right.”

“I’ll give you further instructions on the way and again once I

have been able to see with my own eyes what’s what. I have a feeling

there is something very strange going on in that place.”

“You’ll want me to stay there then?”

“In any case, you’re not coming with me to the Plains. I want to be

able to travel fast. Reconnoiter a section, give the map makers some

time to make sketches that they can work out later, and move on. I

can’t be slowed down by infantry.”

“I see. We are an occupying force, I gather? Will a mere five

hundred men be enough for the whole county?”

“The population is concentrated in a few villages, and they said

they are not able to defend themselves. So yes, that should be enough.

To make certain, have a contingent of double that size on the ready. If

you should run into major trouble, which I highly doubt, they can be

there in less than two days. Give clear instructions that the cavalry

units are to proceed as fast as they can to come to your aid whenever

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you ask for them. They’re not to wait for the infantry. Take trained

courier pigeons with you.”

“Seems like a plan. This begins to feel more and more like

preparation for war.”

“It’s a beginning, anyway,” Anaxantis sighed. “There are still a lot

of pieces missing from the chess board, though.”

“Mother, I need your help. Now.”

“You’ll find them.” Lethoras yawned. “You always do. We have the

fullest confidence in you.”

“That’s nice to know,” Anaxantis said doubtfully.

“If there is nothing else, I would like to get started. I have my

work cut out for me.”

“No, that was it. Unless you have something you wanted to tell

me?”

Anaxantis looked at him expectantly. Lethoras seemed to be

thinking.

“No. Not really. I’m off then.”

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Rullio of Brenx descended the long slope that led to the town of

Nira. The presence of the fort, and the fact that the high king was

in residence, lent the provincial backwater whatever importance

it had. Rullio hoped it was big enough to have a silversmith. When

Portonas’s men had caught him he had been on a nightly mission,

and he had left his money in his tent. Luckily he had been wearing

his silver necklace. He hoped he could sell it and that whatever he

got for it would be enough to see him home. But first he longed for a

decent meal and a bath to wash off almost a year of grime.

The slope gave out on a road that led to the town’s main gate. He

had barely crossed it when out of the shadows a man wearing a long

black mantle appeared. A hood covered most of his face.

“Rullio?” he asked. “Rullio of Brenx?”

“I must be more famous than I thought,” Rullio answered

suspiciously. “Who is asking?”

“A friend. I will try to answer all your questions later. You must be

hungry. Follow me. I know an excellent establishment.”

“I have no money and—”

“I have. Don’t worry. Follow me. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Rullio thought for a moment. He didn’t agree with the man. He

had his life to lose. Or his newly found freedom. On the other hand,

he had his sword. Laying his left hand casually on the hilt, he nodded.

“Lead the way, sir.”

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Without another word the man turned and hastily began walking

in the direction of the town center, until suddenly, he turned into an

alley. Rullio almost had to run to keep up. The excellent establishment

turned out to be a rather shabby looking tavern. The Tooth and Nail,

a dilapidated board declared. For the second time today, his eyes had

to adjust, this time to the dark he had been used to for so long. From

inside the grubby place it was impossible to judge if it was day or

night.

The man walked to the back, where in a corner stood a little table

with two chairs. He took the one with its back to the wall, from where

he could oversee the tavern and its few patrons. Meanwhile the

landlord, who seemed to know his guest, had whispered something

to a boy of about fourteen years, who immediately began taking the

chairs away from two tables that stood close by.

While Rullio sat down, the man blew out the candle that stood

on the table.

“Yes, get rid of that blinding light,” Rullio said.

The man didn’t respond. The landlord silently put a jug of wine

and two cups on the table.

“This young man is hungry. Bring him whatever is freshest.”

“The spicy beef stew,” the landlord said. “With oven fresh bread.”

“What? No gruel? Damn… Just kidding. I’d love some bread and

stew.”

Rullio smiled.

“Are you going to tell me one of these days to what I owe this

generosity?” he continued. “In my experience there’s no such thing

as a free meal. What will you be wanting in return?”

“Nothing you don’t want yourself,” the man said.

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“Maybe you could begin by introducing yourself.”

“Who I am is not important. What I know is. You are Rullio of Brenx.

You are a close friend to prince Ehandar. You were apprehended by

prince Portonas, while spying on his behalf. You were tortured. Then

the king made his son turn over his prisoner to him, which was the

best that could happen to you under those circumstances. How am

I doing?”

“Good, so far, but I would think those little facts aren’t exactly

state secrets.”

“You would be wrong. We are living in a time of impending war.

Just about everything can become a state secret. I was in a position

to have your case reexamined and have it classified as of low

importance. Hence your brand new status as a free man.”

“Eh, thank you. I suppose.”

The man made a deprecating gesture.

“It’s nothing. I needed you. I suppose you’ll be wanting to join

prince Ehandar in the north?”

“After I visit Brenx. Just so my mother can stop offering to the

Gods for my soul, since it happens to be still in my body.”

He smiled wryly.

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid. You could write her though.”

“What’s so urgent?”

“For you? Maybe the fact that prince Ehandar has disappeared.”

“What? How can that be? He’s the lord governor there.”

“Well, now prince Anaxantis is. He always was of course, they

both were, but now he is the only remaining one.”

“Little Anaxantis? Coughing, swooning, bookworm Anaxantis?

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The Gods help the Marches.”

“They don’t need to. Prince Anaxantis is doing just fine on his

own.”

“What happened to Ehandar?”

“For some reason or other he renounced his lineage and name.

Then he disappeared out of the public eye. We don’t know what exactly

happened to him or even if anything did. He could be still inside the

official residence of the lord governors under the protection of his

brother.”

“Ehandar? Ehandar renounced his lineage? Ehandar whose

knees were not made to bend? Ehandar under the protection of little

Anaxantis? You must be joking.”

“No, I’m most emphatically not, I assure you. But if you want to

know what happened to your friend, you will have to start with his

brother.”

“I see. We had an agreement that, should anything happen, we

would all try to make our way separately to the north. To Ehandar.

Do you know if any of our group made it?”

“No. In fact, some of them disappeared. Others, we know, have

fled the country.”

The landlord set a bowl of hot stew and a plate of dark bread on

the table. He nodded and left again.

“Go on,” the hooded man said. “We can continue our talk while

you eat.”

Rullio dipped a piece of bread in the stew and made a sign for the

man to carry on.

“For you the most important part is probably to find out what

happened to prince Ehandar. For me it is that you deliver a message

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to prince Anaxantis. You see, our interests are not mutually exclusive.”

“I’m listening,” Rullio said with a full mouth. “This is delicious, by

the way.”

“I am sure it is. You know both princes were sent there to defend

the Marches against the barbarian tribe of the Mukthars?”

“Yes. Though we found it rather strange that Ehandar was sent

alone, without us, and with such a puny army. To us it looked as if the

king set him up.”

“Ha, yes… Well, not exactly, though it is safe to say the king

wanted his sons to learn a few things. There is no time to tell you

everything in detail. Suffice it to say that things got out of hand. After

the disappearance of prince Ehandar, his brother rallied the Northern

Marches and at this moment is preparing for a major conflict with

the barbarians.”

Rullio shook his head.

“I still can’t get over it. Who’d have thought? Little Anaxantis…

But, all in all, good for him.”

“No. Not good for him. Or for the country. Left to their own devices

the Mukthar tribes operate separately. Yes, there is more than one.

But if prince Anaxantis were to inflict a humiliating defeat upon one

of them, at least nine other tribes would come to its aid. He can’t

possibly hope to withstand an onslaught of more than a hundred

thousand barbarian warriors.”

Rullio had laid his wooden spoon down and looked with utter

shock at the man.

“A hundred thousand?”

“At the very least. Maybe more.”

“How do you know all this?”

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The man sighed.

“Really, that is not important.”

“Humor me, your majesty,” Rullio said, looking straight at the

man’s hood. “After all, I’ve been your guest for quite some time.”