The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (37 page)

“You can do all that upon your return. Actually I need you to go to the Aranquoran city states.”

“What? But, Anaxantis, that'll take months. At least. I can't believe you. Did you give me back my duchy, just to chase me from it?”

“Hardly. First of all, your duchy was always yours. I just, eh, took care of it for a while. Second, what is a few months?”

Arranulf didn't seem convinced. Anaxantis sighed.

“Very well. I'm not going to order you. A pity, really. It would have been the perfect cover. What is more natural than two rich, young 31
dukes — you and Hemarchidas — going on a trip, as friends do, combining learning and pleasure? But—”

“Wait,” Arranulf interrupted him. “Hemarchidas and I? Together?

On a trip?”

“Well, yes, but if you don't—”

“Not so hasty, you. There is another reason for this trip, isn't there?

You said something about it being a cover.”

“You're so transparent, it's pathetic,” Hemarchidas said in a terse tone. “Didn't you think I would see through your obvious trap?”

“Anaxantis must have his reasons,” Arranulf countered, more enthusiastically than he intended. “Good reasons. Reasons of state. I think we should trust him. It's only a trip, after all. And what's a few months anyway?”

Hemarchidas snorted.

“Arranulf is right,” the prince said. “I do have my reasons, and I think they are solid. The situation with Lorsanthia is growing more dangerous each passing day. I don't have any particulars, but if my hunch is correct my father is playing a very dangerous game that could all too easily go wrong. If it does, all Murokthil will break loose. I guarantee it. In that case we need allies, and we need them fast. That's why I want the two of you to go on a discreet reconnaissance mission.”

“Why the both of us?” Hemarchidas asked.

“Because that way you won't draw undue attention. It's customary for young nobles to go on these trips with a friend or with several of them. It's natural. It drives away the boredom of being on the road, and it's safer as well. You're both of just the right age. Nobody will see anything suspicious in a pair of young, pampered nobles on a pleasur-able voyage.”

31
“Pampered? However am I going to pay for this? Just a horse

breeder, you know.”

“I created you duke of Orissa, Your Grace. Why don't you use the revenues of your duchy?” Anaxantis asked.

“What revenues? The duchy of Orissa is just a fancy name for a hamlet and a large patch of grazing land. There's nobody there, you little fool. No people, no horses. Hence no taxes. When would I have had time to take care of developing that wilderness?”

“Oh. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. In that case speak to Tomar. Never mind the state of your fief, you are a duke and people must be able to see as much at first sight. Have you chosen your arms?”

“No, I haven't,” Hemarchidas replied, keeping as calm as he could.

“Might I suggest a horse's head? Gold on vert, perhaps, to symbol— ize the pasture lands and the riches the horse trade will bring you?”

“I will help you,” Arranulf said, seeing that the Cheridonian was about to explode. “We make our own flags, standards and all other heraldic paraphernalia ourselves, right at the castle. I want you to look impressive for our pleasure trip.” He turned to Anaxantis. ”But in fact you want us to look out for possible allies?”

“No, not yet. I just want you to test the waters. Visit the local inns and listen to what the general population is saying. Visit the more prestigious establishments, make friends with talkative people in the know.”

“Ooh, we're going to be spies,” the young duke cried out.

“No, most certainly not,” Anaxantis corrected him quickly. “I want to know the general mood. Are the people worried? Are their leaders?

What do they think is going to happen? And what are they planning to do about it? That kind of stuff. Under no circumstances are you to put 31
yourselves in danger. Try to avoid being looked at as anything else but

idle, rich young guys.”

“But at the same time you want us to pry for information,” Hemarchidas said, rubbing his chin.

“I know. It will not be easy. You'll have to find out all kinds of facts and details, and do it while seeming to be not interested in them in the least.”

Anaxantis stopped. They were a good distance from the rest of guests. He smiled, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Come on guys, you'll have a wonderful time doing a good and necessary job,” he said. “I just know it.”

Hemarchidas still didn't look completely convinced. Arranulf seemed more agreeable to the prospect of spending long weeks with the Cheridonian.

“We can't very well refuse, can we? The safety of the whole region could be at stake. Anaxantis is right. We need allies,” Arranulf said, trying to sound disinterested, while looking sideways at Hemarchidas.

“Yes, well—”

“There is one other, small thing,” the prince interrupted him.

“Of course there is,” Hemarchidas said, looking at the sky.

“Whenever is there not just one other small thing?”

A gust of wind made Anaxantis huddle himself in his long mantle.

He ignored the snide remark.

“A year and a half ago, or thereabouts, just before Father sent us to the Northern Marches, the last descendant of the royal House of Trachia fled his homeland. It had been annexed and carved up in three provinces under viceroys by Lorsanthia, although fighting was still going on. The last prince and his few followers disappeared, never to be heard of again.”

31
“What happened to the rest of the royal family?” Arranulf asked.

Anaxantis shrugged.

“As far as I know — which isn't much — his father, the king, fell in a skirmish. His younger brother, a boy of fourteen, was caught by some Lorsanthian elite troops. By then they had been outlawed by the invading authorities. The young prince was declared a rebel and uncere— moniously hanged as a common criminal.”

Arranulf shuddered.

“You think the older one might still be somewhere in the Aranquoran territory?” Hemarchidas asked.

“I have no idea, but it seems likely he went underground. If I were in his place, and if I had any fight left in me, I would try to stay as near to my country as possible. So, yes, I think there is more than a fair chance he is somewhere there.”

“You want us to find him?” Arranulf asked.

Anaxantis smiled wryly.

“I doubt you can. But I would like you to try. Be careful, though. I wouldn't be surprised if Lorsanthia has agents all over the place by now. Nothing, absolutely nothing must be allowed to blow your cover of carefree, irresponsible young nobles who are just bumming around.

All the same, you could feign to be interested in sensational gossip.

There should be a lot of that going around.”

He made a gesture of helplessness.

“Whatever you can find out… Without drawing undue attention to yourselves, however.”

“Let's for one moment suppose that, by some streak of luck, we do find him. What do you want us to do in that case?” Hemarchidas inquired, a deep frown on his brow. “Are you planning to give him 31
asylum? Or are you merely going to use him to strengthen our cause

whenever we come to blows with Lorsanthia?”

“Use him?” Anaxantis said with distaste in his voice. “Who said anything about using him?”

“Sorry, Anaxantis, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to imply that you…”

The Cheridonian let the sentence die out. Seeing the horrified, hurt expression on the face of his friend, made him wish he had bitten off his tongue.

“Is that how they see me?”
Anaxantis thought.
“Yes, it must be.”

“Never mind,” he said out loud, sounding suddenly tired. “Look, I understand if you have to think about it. Don't take too long. Let me know in a few days. By New Year's at the latest.”

He made to turn back to the main group, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, restraining him gently.

“We don't have to think about it, Anaxantis,” Arranulf said. “We'll go.”

His gaze was fixed on Hemarchidas.

“Yes, of course. We'll go. Don't worry, we'll do exactly as you asked,” the Cheridonian hastily concurred.

“Thank you, guys,” the prince whispered.

Arranulf looked from the one to the other.

“Good, it's a deal then,” he said, feeling the tension, but trying to sound casual. ”We'll make the practical arrangements when we're back at the castle. If you don't need me anymore, I'm going back to my friends.”

Without waiting for an answer he turned around and walked off.

Hemarchidas waited until he was out of earshot.

31
“I'm sorry, Anaxantis,” he then said. “I'm so sorry. It just slipped

out. I didn't mean anything by it, certainly not that you—”

“It doesn't matter, Hemarchidas. Maybe you were right.”

“No. I was not. I always forget — we all forget — why you are doing what you do. We just take for granted that everything will turn out fine, and we leave the hard decisions to you. It's not fair. You're just trying to protect all of us, your friends and the people that are put in your care.”

“You always had a far too resplendent idea of me,” the prince said with a lopsided, sad smile. “It's not all altruism. I'm trying to protect myself as well, you know.”

“And him. He would be so lost. Worse, he would be dead within
the year.”

He wrapped himself tighter in his mantle.

“No, I don't have an excessive or unrealistic positive image of you,”

Hemarchidas said. “You're doing the best you can with whatever is at hand. You're not perfect. So what? And you're cursed with stupid friends.”

This time Anaxantis laughed out loud.

“I have the best friends in the world,” he said.

“Here's your chance, Arranulf. Take it.”

31
“Of course I am on the list,” an angry voice shouted. “I am on every

list.”

“General Demaxos is on the list, as expected,” another voice, this one petulant, replied, “but I don't seem to find your name.”

“There are several possible explanations for that. You've got the wrong list. You've got the right list but it is wrong. You're an analpha-bet. You're the most stupid man alive. Pick one.”

Parrimar Weckstall, summoning all his professional patience, let the verbal storm pass him by. Nothing could be deemed particularly unusual with the strange company the warlord chose to surround himself with. He thought back with some longing to the quiet, dignified days when the duchess-regent decided who entered the castle.

“If you could tell me your name again, Sir?”

“And what good would that do? You don't seem to be able to retain important information for longer than the blinking of an eye. But, as I'm in an extremely good mood today, I will oblige. Tollbir is the name.

You're a very tiresome fellow, you know.”

Murno Tollbir scratched his beard.

“Your first name?”

31
“Doctor. Doctor Tollbir. I'm the young man's physician.”

“The young man?”

“He means His Highness, the prince,” Lethoras intervened. “The doctor is on the list, and if he's not, he should be.”

Murno Tollbir looked at the unhappy steward.

“Tell you what. You apply your minuscule brain to try to solve this baffling conundrum, and meanwhile we go inside. That way only one out of the three of us will lose precious time.”

He blinked.

“I'm not certain a room has been prepared for you,” Parrimar said, not sure what to do.

“It's all right,” Lethoras tried to assuage him. “In a pinch he can share mine.”

“Move,” Murno said.

Reluctantly Parrimar Weckstall let the pair through and immediately began searching his list again.

“Nitwit,” he heard the doctor say to the general. “How these fools can hold on to semi-useful jobs will stay a mystery to me for all eternity.”

They entered the great hall, and were almost immediately approached by an older man.

“Excuse me, but did I hear you say you were the prince's doctor?”

Murno Tollbir stopped. He blinked at the man, but didn't reply.

“He's a rather famous doctor,” Lethoras volunteered.

“Rather? What do you mean, rather? Don't answer that.” Murno turned to the man. “What's the matter with you?”

31
“It's not me. I'm a friend of the Duchess Athildis. She's behaving,

eh — how shall I put this? — strangely as of late. Very strangely, and it worries me.”

“Is it urgent?” Lethoras asked. “We have an appointment to keep.”

“Fiddlesticks. The boy can wait,” Murno said.

Sir Threnn looked uncomprehendingly from one to the other.

“He means His Highness,” Lethoras answered his unspoken

question.

“Let's keep things in perspective. First there's patients. Then there's nothing. Then there's more nothing. Then there's me. Then…”

He made a dismissive gesture.

“Lead the way, my good man,” he concluded, extremely pleased with himself. “Lethoras, take care of our bags, will you?”

Woldemar of Shoreham knocked and opened the door.

“I found this old gentleman wandering in the corridors, My Lord.