The Warrior King: Book Three of the Seer King Trilogy (41 page)

“His duties made it impossible to join us,” Scopas said.

Trerice’s words, intended to be civil, came out a bit clipped, unsurprising after what I’d just said: “You have surprised us all, General.”

“I should hope so,” I said, turned to Scopas. “I welcome you to the people’s army, Councilor. I wish that I had the words that you do and the ability to compose them as well. But I don’t, so that’s the best I can do.

“Perhaps you’d join me in the mess, and we’ll find a bottle of wine worthy of your attentions. Trerice, I don’t recall if you drink.”

“Seldom.”

“My own habit.”

“We’d like to take advantage of your hospitality,” Scopas said. “But we must return to Nicias before nightfall.

“There is business, urgent business, that we must discuss. In private, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Perhaps in my tent?”

They followed me inside.

“This,” I introduced, “is Cymea. She’s one of my advisers and one of my wizards.”

They both bowed politely, but it was obvious what they thought her to really be, considering her beauty. She responded politely, slipped out.

“I assume this area is safe?” Scopas said.

“Against eavesdroppers, I assume you mean,” I said. “For there’s no one in this camp who wishes you harm. It is. I always have Sinait, my chief wizard, secure my sleeping quarters against any intrusion.”

Yonge would have been proud of my increasing ability to lie. Unless everyone was completely asleep, since I’d given no orders to the contrary, Sinait would be setting a Seeing Bowl at this moment, and most likely Kutulu himself would have his ears pressed against the back wall.

Of course I didn’t think these two believed me, since they weren’t babes, either.

I seated them, offered drinks again, which were refused.

“Your exploits have certainly gone before,” Scopas said. “When last we spoke, things were somewhat different.”

“They were, indeed,” I said. “I was your prisoner. Now I have about a million and a half men, probably another five hundred thousand joining in Kallio or following our tracks north. We’ve fought Tenedos twice, south of the Delta, once with arms, once with sorcery, and defeated him both times.”

“We’ve heard of the one,” Trerice said, “and rumors of the other. But my intelligence suggests neither battle was conclusive.”

“No,” I said. “But both accomplished far more than when our forces were at Paestum.”

Scopas looked pointedly away. Trerice’s anger was clear. “Back then … we … neither side … had the experience we have now, and Tenedos was able to strike us in the most vulnerable area,” he snapped.

“Good generals do things like that,” I agreed, enjoying Trerice’s discomfort. “Now we must make sure he doesn’t do it again.

“That is,” I said carefully, “if I’m correct in assuming any sort of alliance. Perhaps you wish to continue your old fealty to the Maisirians, in which case I must consider both of you my country’s enemies.”

“No, no,” Scopas said hastily. “That was something we were forced to do, to save what was left of Numantia. But you, thank Irisu, have removed that problem, for which we’re all extraordinarily grateful.”

Trerice didn’t look grateful at all but held his tongue. “The question then becomes,” I said, “what comes next?” Scopas blinked. “Why … we deal with Tenedos in the best way possible.”

“To me, that means only one thing,” I said. “We completely destroy him.”

“Is that a wise position?” Scopas said. “If we leave him … and his soldiers … no options other than total defeat, won’t that make them fight all the harder? Make them willing to destroy all rather than accept defeat?”

“Listen to me, Scopas,” I said. “Tenedos already has taken that stance. Do you know what he’s doing? He’s seizing innocent villagers and using his magic to turn them into warriors. Have you heard about that? Has your vaunted intelligence told you about those soldiers who, when they’re cut down, turn back into babes and beldames?”

Scopas was shocked, Trerice tried to hide his surprise.

“We’d heard something about his having significant increases in his forces,” the general said uncomfortably, “but … no. We hadn’t heard the details.”

“My staff will brief you, as soon as I authorize it,” I said. “Do you see what I mean? There can be no surrender but an unconditional one.

“And when we have seized Tenedos, we must make sure he’ll never be able to try to seize power once again.”

“You mean kill him? Without a trial?”

“I mean kill him,” I said firmly. “Or, if you want it to sound less grim, reunite him with his beloved gods-damned Saionji, if that’s more comfortable on your lips. We can have a trial, if it pleases you, after the funeral pyre burns out.”

“General Damastes,” Scopas said, “I realize, as a soldier you take, must take, a firm position. But — ”

“There are no buts,” I said. “That is the position we take … not just myself, but my entire army. We don’t have a motto, but if we did, it’d be
Tenedos or Death.
And death’s a lot cleaner than allowing him to take control again of our country, of our souls.”

Scopas took a deep breath, Trerice looked grim.

“I see your point,” Scopas said. “And perhaps that’s what we lack … what we have lacked. Perhaps we need to take a firmer stance, and oppose the ex-emperor more directly.

“Perhaps that’s your great strength, what you can add to our government.”

It was my turn to look noncommittal.

“Here is what we came to ask,” Scopas said. “There have been few enough victories to cheer the citizens of Nicias. Would it be possible to have a triumph? A review of your army, as soon as possible. The people want to see the victors of the Latane, which is what they’re calling you now. They want to see you, Damastes.”

“It would be a simple matter,” Trerice said. “This area you’re camped in is intended to be only temporary. A larger camp, better drained, with some outbuilding already standing, is being set up for you to the west of Nicias. Perhaps you remember it from your army days, General. It was the old sporting and review grounds outside the city.”

I did remember it and had enjoyed its greens and sweated on its dusty parade fields. It was convenient to the capital, just on the other side of one of the wider branches of the Latane, served by regular ferry services.

I considered, saw no hidden tricks, and recognized another advantage. “Yes,” I said. “We could do that. Perhaps it might do my soldiery some good as well, to see who we’re fighting for.”

That was about the end of the conversation. But after I’d bidden the two farewell, and they’d ridden away with their retinue, I saw a piece of paper on my field desk that hadn’t been there before.

It was in Scopas’s careful script that I knew well from my time serving the Rule of Ten:

• • •

We must speak more of my previous offer as soon as possible.

I will make the arrangements.

• • •

“Interesting’,” Yonge observed. “Thieves falling out, and all that sort of thing, isn’t it?”

There were five besides myself in the tent, Linerges, Yonge, Kutulu, Cymea, and Sinait. Both wizards had cast separate Squares of Silence, to prevent anyone from overhearing.

“Hardly surprising,” Sinait said. “Both Barthou and Scopas desperately want to save power for themselves and will align themselves with anyone to keep it.”

“It looks to me,” Linerges said, “they’ve got three choices: to try to hang on to what they’ve got by themselves, which doesn’t look possible from here; to link up with Tenedos, which they’d consider, except I don’t think he’d give them anything except a sacrificial knife if he wins; or get in bed with you, Damastes.”

“They made the offer before,” Sinait mused. “What makes them think he’d be interested in taking it this time?”

“Pure desperation,” Yonge said flatly.

“I’ll agree with that,” Linerges said.

I glanced around. Cymea nodded, as did Sinait. Kutulu considered carefully for a time.

“The simplest explanation that Yonge offers is the most likely, in my opinion,” he said.

“So we’re agreed,” I said. “What next?”

“I don’t think,” Yonge said, “we can ignore Nicias. It’s good for victors to show themselves to the people they’re going to rule … sorry, Damastes, that they’re fighting for, since you insist we’re all in this madness for the sheer nobility of the deed.

“I did my share of parades and things after I killed Achim Baber Fergana and took Sayana. But are things different here? Are we endangering ourselves by taking part in this banners and bullshit they want?”

“The review?” Linerges thought. “I can’t see how. I’ll arrange the army so that we can fight back, if we’re attacked in the city. We’ll keep our weapons ready at hand, and since we haven’t been able to afford dress uniforms, wear what we fight in. The citizens will never notice and think it’s a thrill they’re seeing real warriors equipped for the field.

“We can pull back if there’s any sign of danger early; then, if we’re hit in the center of the city, make for one of the parks and fight from there. Once we’re in that camp on the far side of the city, we’re pretty invulnerable.”

“What about magic?” I asked.

“All I’ve been able to sense,” Sinait said, “is the most minor of spells. They don’t seem to have any great magicians like we do, or Tenedos does. Have you found any signs, Cymea?”

“None,” she said. “And we’ve quizzed our brothers and sisters who’ve come to this camp.”

“I have a few agents in the city,” Kutulu said. “And I’ve read the Tovieti reports. Nothing of significance appears to be happening.”

“So it then becomes their play,” I said. “We proceed as if that note had never been written, and see what happens next?”

“That,” Linerges said, “appears to be the most obvious plan.”

“Why don’t I like it at all?” I asked.

“Nor do I,” Yonge said. “But there appears no other choice.”

• • •

The night before the review, an idea came.

“Cymea,” I began, “I would like you to do something.”

“Such as? I’m being suspicious,” she said, “because you’ve got that tentative note in your voice.”

“It’s very simple,” I said. “You’re in touch with the Tovieti in the city. I’d like to get a message to them. Please let Jakuns, Himchai, and Jabish know of it as well.

“When the army marches through, ask your brothers and sisters not to cheer too loudly for us, especially not anyone they recognize as one of them.”

“Why not?”

“Right now, nobody knows who the Tovieti are in Nicias, correct?”

“I’d guess not,” she said. “Or the warders would’ve arrested or killed them.”

“Let’s not have the brethren make themselves obvious, then. We’re just having a parade, and the war’s a long ways from being over. We might need them, need them while they’re still underground.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “You’re becoming very devious, my love.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. “Everyone else is already sneaky, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

“You show great promise at being a Tovieti,” she said. “Would you like a silk cord for your day of birth?”

I was proud of myself, and what Cymea had given me, that I was able to chuckle a little instead of losing my temper.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think you’ve had a good idea. I’ll tell Jakuns, and if he and the others agree, we’ll arrange for our brothers to just stand and stare when we go traipsing past.”

“They don’t have to go to
that
extreme,” I complained. “A friendly wave or two is quite acceptable.”

• • •

A delegation of Nicias’s tailors came, and Scopas was with them, dressed as they were, except his garments were far finer than any weaver could ever afford. He asked what I now thought of his offer.

“Exactly what form does it now take?” I inquired. “We want you, as before, to become supreme commander of the armies. Both armies.”

“What about Trerice?”

Scopas looked uncomfortable. “If he isn’t willing to serve under you, then … well, then, he’ll have to be replaced.”

“What about your other high officers? Drumceat? Taitu?”

“They’ll obey our orders.”

“Let’s discuss something else,” I said. “What happens after we defeat the emperor? Who rules Numantia?”

“Then will come your great reward. Barthou and I will create a third Grand Councilor. You. And the three of us will rule and return Numantia to its greatest days.”

I thought of asking why everyone talked about “returning” to better days, rather than rising to new greatness, but refrained. I temporized and told him I’d make some sort of a decision after we’d regrouped in our new camp.

Scopas returned to the others, trying to pretend that he was but one of them, evidently thinking everyone would ignore the four hard-eyed men who surrounded him, their hands constantly brushing their swords’ hilts. I hoped he had done a better job of appearing a nonentity leaving Nicias than he did here.

As for the tailors’ business … that gave us a bit of merriment. They’d been appalled to note the shabbiness of my soldiers and their motley attire.

“You propose to outfit all of us?” I inquired. “With only a few days until the Grand Parade? You must have more men and women skilled with the needle and shears than I thought. And I warn you, we don’t have great chests of gold.”

“Well, no,” their leader admitted. “And such a gift, even though you and your men certainly deserve that, nay, deserve to have the finest raiments sewn with golden threads, would bankrupt all of us.

“What we propose is to give each of your men a tunic and breeches like these.”

A man stepped out from their midst wearing a rather nattily cut maroon outfit, with slash-cut thigh boots. It wasn’t bad looking, but I wondered if its designer had considered what would happen when its wearer attempted to conceal himself in a forest.

“Interesting,” I said, neutrally.

“We can have our … not our, actually, but ones we have on retainer, or at any rate who’ve worked for us in the past and hope to work for us in the future … magicians duplicate this uniform, and have thousands, perhaps even a million in your hands within two, no, three days.”