The Warrior King: Book Three of the Seer King Trilogy (3 page)

“You’ve answered your own question,” Scopas said. “As to how we wish you to serve us, specifically: we are getting permission from King Bairan to increase the size of the Peace Guardians, to make the force large enough to stand against Tenedos.”

“What’s the matter with the traitor Herne, who now leads them? I understand everyone loves him for his political realism,” I said harshly.

Both Grand Councilors looked unhappy.

“Guardian of the Peace Herne is not exactly a leader the populace warms to,” Scopas said. “We need someone better known, better thought of, both to gain the recruits we need so desperately and to serve as a beacon in battle.”

This stopped me. I thought the people of Numantia thought me the worst of villains for having led them into slaughter. But if I assumed these two knew what they were talking about — quite an assumption from their past record — things might be different.

“You mean I’d be a figurehead,” I said, “with Herne still in command.”

“Of course,” Barthou said. “What else could there be?”

“Since Herne is little more than raw ambition in the flesh, and completely unqualified to be a general of the armies … even a pissant one like the Peace Guardians … I’d be several species of a fool to serve under him. Particularly if his mistakes would be blamed on me, as you’ve indicated.”

Barthou started to snap a retort, but Scopas held up his hand. “Let me try another approach, since you haven’t rejected me completely,” he said quietly. “Would you agree to take over the army … I mean the Peace Guardians … if Herne were set aside, in some sort of honorary position but out of the real line of command? You wouldn’t be able to hold the rank of tribune, of course — there are political considerations that prevent that title from ever being revived. Perhaps we might use the rank of supreme
jedaz,
which should lessen any problems King Bairan might have with your return to the military.”

“I know it’s hardly civil to answer a question with another question, and I’m not doing that,” I said. “But I need more information. An army … no matter what you call it … isn’t led by one general, one tribune, or whatever Maisirian rank you like. Who else can you call on?”

“The liaison between us and the Guardians is Timgad,” Scopas said.

I remembered him vaguely — a toady who’d been appointed to the Rule of Ten after the Tovieti riots began, a toady of Barthou’s. He … and his position … didn’t matter, for if I accepted their offer I’d no more listen to the Council than I would Herne.

“Lord Drumceat, even though he lacks experience, has a great deal of fire and enthusiasm,” Scopas went on. “We plan to name him Rast.”

Drumceat was the reactionary rural baron who’d taken over the death patrols created by my brother-in-law Praen, after the Tovieti slaughtered him. I’d once ordered him from my house.

“A man with great experience,” Barthou put in, “is General, now Rast, Indore.”

Experience … at being totally political. The Rule of Ten had tried to foist him on the army as supreme commander, and Tenedos had refused him. Hardly a plus.

“Another is Rast Taitu.”

A decent man, relieved by Tenedos for refusing Tenedos’s orders to attack at Dabormida. Something of a plus.

“Someone without experience, but, like Drumceat, with fire,” Barthou said, “is Baron Lany.”

He was the ex-head of warders in Nicias who’d replaced me as head of the provisional government in Kallio, after the emperor had sent me home in disgrace, who evidently did an excellent job. A plus.

“Probably our best officer,” Scopas said, “is Guardian of the Peace Herne’s adjutant, a real firebrand named Trerice. He never served in the army during the war but organized supply caravans to the borders. He prided himself on never losing a man or a bale of goods to bandits or anything else. Properly, he was rewarded. I guess he found peacetime boring, for he joined the Guardians and quickly rose in its ranks. Herne’s been using him in the countryside, where he’s been most effective in suppressing dissent. He’s considered totally ruthless in following his orders, doing much the same task you performed for the emperor. I suppose you had the same reputation.”

No, ruthless was not a distinction that I’d ever heard connected to my name, and I hoped it had never fit. I guessed this Trerice might be competent, since Herne wouldn’t let him near Nicias and power.

“There are others, of course,” Scopas went on. “Middle-rankers from the war, who’ve risen to the occasion. We’re quite confident.”

I refrained from sneering. If they were so confident, why’d they drag me out of jail? I could have given them the answer right then, but still liked the fact my neck ran directly from my body to my head.

“I see,” I said. “Naturally, I’d like a day, perhaps two, to consider this.”

Barthou looked unhappy, but Scopas nodded hastily. “Of course, of course. Take all the time you need. You’ll forgive us if we don’t herald your return for a while, nor permit you to reenter public life.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to become an embarrassment.” I started for the door. “So if you’ll let me return to my … secluded quarters …”

Scopas oiled me out, and I went down the hall, surrounded by guards. I glanced back at the corridor’s end and saw Scopas looking thoughtfully after me. Barthou came up beside him and said something. Scopas, still looking at me, answered, shaking his head.

I guessed my thinking wasn’t as impervious as I’d hoped but wasn’t that disappointed. Scopas had years and years of determining meaning from a flinch or a glance.

I’d already decided I wouldn’t become a Peace Guardian under any circumstances. Not only was it morally abhorrent, but with lackluster buffoons for officers, my chances of defeating a brilliant sorcerer and sometimes-prescient general like Tenedos were nonexistent.

The question was, how could I turn them down and continue living?

The next question became — if I managed to survive this crisis, what came next?

I had no answers for either question.

• • •

I startled awake into a dream. The Emperor Laish Tenedos stood, arms crossed, in the center of my room. On either side of him were braziers, sending out scented smoke in many colors.

The emperor smiled, and I knew I was not dreaming at all.

I came out of bed, began to bow, naked as I was, then caught myself, confused.

Tenedos guffawed. “In spite of the oath you took,” he said, “you do not have to make obeisance. I have not regained the throne.” His smile vanished. “Not yet, but soon.”

“How did you do this?” I managed.

“That perplexes me a bit,” he said, reaching into invisibility and pulling up a camp chair. He reached once more to the side, came back with a crystal decanter and glass, and poured brandy. He replaced the carafe and sipped.

“This is a spell I devised,” he said, “that began with the Seeing Bowl you and I used once, when you were in Kallio.

“With it, I’ve sent … messages … to certain men who served me in the past and whose service I now require. The few times I was able to connect with them, it was all very hazy, unclear, not like this.

“Perhaps it’s because I worked great magic in the tower you’re now in, and there’s a … perhaps residue is the word.

“Or perhaps it’s because you and I were closer than any of my other officers and officials.

“You see, Damastes? I am back, it was not a myth, not a double, and my powers are stronger than ever.”

I managed to hide a shudder. The seer king’s great secret was that he gathered his sorcerous strength from blood, from death, which was why he worshiped the death-goddess Saionji, when almost all other Numantians trembled at her name. I’d only realized this secret near the end, before Cambiaso; it was something I should’ve sensed years earlier.

So his powers were back, and more powerful? I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d learned greater spells or, more frightening, if he’d made another pact with another demon, promising blood for power.

An even worse thought came: had Tenedos in fact died, rather than faking a death? Had he struck a bargain with Saionji herself and been able to return to this world in the same form, rather than being thrown onto the Wheel to be reborn in some other body in some distant land, perhaps an animal instead of a human?

Tenedos was looking at me closely.

“Might I ask your thoughts?” he inquired in a mocking tone.

I shook my head. “I’m not altogether awake, so they don’t bear repeating.”

Again, Tenedos laughed. “Damastes, my friend, you were always a terrible liar. But it matters not. Were you thinking about the past? About what you did to me at Cambiaso?”

I made no reply.

“You need not let it dwell on you,” he said. “For that was in the past, and now is the time I call you to return to your duty as first tribune, commander of my armies, and assist me in regaining my rightful throne, my rightful possession of Numantia.”

“In spite of what happened?” I said.

“I cannot say I love you for what you did. I was blind in my rage at being betrayed by Scopas, Barthou, the cowardly lice who populate Nicias, and was about to send them doom.” He drank. “I was not thinking clearly at that time, for I never should have allowed myself to worry about them until I’d destroyed the Maisirians.

“You should have restrained me, but not in the manner you did. For Numantia’s sake, as well as mine … and, considering your present situation, your own as well.”

I thought for an instant of asking how one subdues a wizard in a terrible rage, a wizard who can call up demons able to destroy fortresses and armies.

“But, as I said,” Tenedos continued, “that is in the past. During my exile, I had a chance to think of what I did, both right and wrong, and how I would change matters given the chance.

“I was given the chance, or, more correctly, I seized the moment. Now I am on the path of recovery, of return.

“I’ve amassed a great force of men, nearly one hundred thousand. But I lack officers to lead them into battle, men of experience, even though I have many with the desire, and blood that races to the sound of drums. King Bairan killed too many of our best.

“But I’m confident that I … that we … can win, and when I use the word we, I mean you, Damastes á Cimabue, my bravest soldier.”

“What is your plan? How will things be different?” I temporized.

“First I must regain the throne, reunite Numantia behind me. Scopas, Barthou, their regime and especially the execrable Peace Guardians and the detestable Herne must be destroyed. There shall be no mercy, no surrender permitted. I made the mistake of being merciful once and allowing dissent. I will not make that error again.”

“What about Maisir?” I asked. “Bairan will hardly stand by and allow you … Numantia … to return to its former glory.”

“He will have no choice,” Tenedos said. “Of course he’ll call up his armies when he hears of my successes in the field and bring them north.

“By the time he crosses the borders, makes his way through Sulem Pass or the other route through Dumyat, it will be too late. Once here in Numantia, he’ll be as we were in Maisir, campaigning in a foreign land, with everyone’s hand turned against him.

“I’ll meet him in the field when and where he least expects it. Then the Maisirians … and their murderous king, the bastard who put you under a spell and forced you to become a murderer and near-regicide … shall be utterly destroyed.

“Remember, we have a great advantage. You slew his greatest mage, the
azaz,
at Cambiaso. I was more powerful than he was then and am twice that now.

“So let Bairan come north with his War Magicians. This time I know what I’m facing, and have begun to reassemble the Chare Brethren and ready my own battle wizardry.

“Before he reaches the border, I’ll strike down all his sorcerers and leave him naked to my …
our
… hammer blows, material and spiritual!

“Once he and his army are destroyed, I won’t make my other mistake of invading Maisir. No, I’ll let them fall into utter chaos for a generation, perhaps two, while they’re casting envious looks north at our peace, our contentment, our prosperity. Then they’ll beg to be allowed into my hegemony.”

Again my memory flickered, remembering how Tenedos had told me peace must never be allowed to reign in Numantia, for a nation not fighting for its life, for its soul, falls into decay and ruin. But what Tenedos said brought a more important question.

“Your Majesty,” and I confess the words still came easily. “You just said something strange, something I don’t understand. You said a generation or two must pass before the Maisirians want to serve
you.
”

“Your mind is still as agile as always,” Tenedos said. “This is another secret I’m on the verge of discovering, a way to extend our lives double or double again normal, perhaps even longer.

“This I find ironic, for as Saionji’s greatest servant, perhaps she’s going to permit me to remain free of the Wheel for a longer time as a reward, me and those I decide are worthy of this ultimate privilege.”

I looked hard into those dangerously gleaming eyes I’d been held and commanded by for most of my life. I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth, was raving, or was trying to entice me, as if a promise of more years in this hardly pleasant life was much of a lure.

“I know you haven’t forgotten the oath you took to me, even though some might say you broke it when you struck me down.”

I’d spent many hours puzzling about how much grief that arrogant motto,
We Hold True,
must’ve brought my family over the generations.

“One thing, sir, I must settle now,” I went on. “I refuse to admit I broke my oath when I prevented you from bringing chaos to Numantia. For isn’t it the duty of an officer to keep his superior from breaking
his
oath? And you took one to your people, in front of me and the Great Gods Umar, Irisu, Saionji, to never treat your subjects with cruelty or disdain. Didn’t you?”

The emperor’s face reddened, and his fist clenched on his glass. I waited for it to shatter, but he forced calm, put a smile on his lips, and laughed sharply, falsely.