The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (66 page)

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Nromar set two tankards of beer on the table and sat down.

“Now that Anaxantis is warned, I suppose you’ll be leaving soon,”

he asked rather than stated.

Boynar shook his head.

“Not just yet. There are two more things he wanted me to investigate. It seems Tomar has a younger brother, one Landar. The high king used him to try to turn Tomar into a spy.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“Actually, it did.”

“So Tomar is a traitor? I don’t understand. He’s still managing the affairs of Great Renuvia. How is that even possible?”

“When Anaxantis found out, he gave him permission to continue.”

“Continue spying?”

“Why, yes. Strange, isn’t it? But he valued Tomar’s friendship, and he understood that the king had put him between a rock and a hard place.”

“So how did that work?”

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“It didn’t. It turned out Tomar had wanted to tender his resignation to the high king. He gave Anaxantis the letter, but the prince burned it without having read it. He said he needn’t know what was in it, and that he trusted Tomar.”

Nromar took a swig of his beer.

“All right, run that past me again. Slowly, please, and with some more detail,” he said.

After Boynar had finished explaining the ins and outs, as far as he understood them himself, Nromar laughed.

“He’s a strange one, isn’t he, our little prince?”

Boynar nodded.

“I always wonder: is he still alive because of or despite this kind of behavior?”

“So, what exactly has Anaxantis asked of you? Master Landar obviously doesn’t need rescuing, since he seems to be lodged in comfortable quarters,” Nromar wondered.

“Well that’s what worries Anaxantis. As soon as his mother had told him that the Tribe had found out Master Landar was treated well, he set Tomar’s mind at ease. Tomar himself was rather disappointed his younger brother hadn’t tried to make contact with him. Anaxantis told him there had to be a reason for that, and he promised to find out what exactly had happened. That’s where I come in.”

“Nice of him.”

“Depends how you look at it. It ties in to my other assignment. Tomar was obviously not the only spy the high king has in Lorseth. Anaxantis said it is not how things are done in the royal family. You check and double-check. Then you check again. Furthermore, even after Tomar stopped sending in his reports, which never contained anything

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very secret anyway, information still kept leaking from Lorseth to

Nira. Whoever it is must be fairly close to our warlord.”

Nromar stared in his tankard.

“You know,” he drawled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was that half brother of his. Something’s not right. He disappears for months, then he returns as if it is the most normal thing in the world, and all that is given as an explanation is that he was away on a sensitive mission. I don’t buy it. Not completely, anyway.”

“I must admit I’ve had my own suspicions about His Highness, Prince Ehandar, but he and Anaxantis seem to be on good terms.”

“How are you going to tackle this thing then?” Nromar asked.

Boynar let out a deep sigh.

“I wish I knew.”

On the new crossroad Anaxantis and Ehandar parted company.

They had traveled the short distance from Lorseth Castle together.

Ehandar’s retinue had taken up position on the road that led to the Northern Highway. About a hundred soldiers, his personal guards and the squires, waited patiently under a dozen pennants with the black 56
eagle on a field of azure, while the princes said their goodbyes. The few men, among them Tomar, who would accompany Anaxantis were waiting on the new road to Lorseth Harbor.

“Remember to wear your scarf. The sea winds will be cold. And don’t let your galley venture too far from the coast. It’s untried and so is your crew. Be careful.”

“Oh, Ehandar, love, don’t fuss,” Anaxantis mock-grumbled. His eyes belied his words. He was thoroughly enjoying their little ritual.

“It’s not all that long a voyage. Then a quick tour of the plains, and I’ll be on my way back. I’ll take the Northern Highway. Just a few weeks and I’ll join you at Marna-Dryff.”

“For a little while, at least,”
he thought.
“I can’t let Tomar run
Great Renuvia all by himself, and I don’t want anything or anyone,
least of all me, eclipsing you.”

“I’ll be counting the days,” Ehandar replied. Then he noticed the blue-gray eyes staring at him. “What are you looking at?” he asked, smiling in a self-conscious way.

“At you. I want to imprint your image on my mind. It’ll be all I’ll have of you for a few weeks,” Anaxantis replied. “I love you.”

“I miss you already, more than I can say,” Ehandar said. “I love you.”

Anaxantis tightened his grip on Myrmos’s reins. He gave a slight tug to right, and without another word rode off.

The Rover had left Lorseth Harbor under its two triangular sails.

Anaxantis wanted to spare the rowers until he needed them in earnest.

The small galley had been modified and refitted with an aftcastle that served as personal accommodation for the prince. In the middle the deck was slightly raised. Beneath it were the quarters for the sailors 56
and the rowers, while the soldiers were lodged in the forecastle. The

rowers were convicts who had been given a choice: serve their full term in prison, or half on the prince’s galley. Since it had been pointed out to them that days in harbor counted as well, there had been more than enough takers.

Anaxantis stood on the forecastle deck, holding fast to the rigging.

The sea wind made his hair flutter forward as he was studying the coast. It was the day after they had left Lorseth Harbor, and the Rover was sailing past the Teagriam Mountains that separated the Highlands from the Plains. The mountain range jutted right out into the sea.

Gradually, as the ship sailed past them, the mountains turned into hills, then into soft dunes interspersed with long stretches of open beach.

Anaxantis smiled, inhaling the invigorating, salty sea air. He had been right to occupy and colonize the plains. Behind the beaches lay fertile grounds or lands that could be made fruitful by irrigation. The forests teemed with wildlife, and carefully managed, they could provide all the wood that was needed locally. The Mirax served as its first natural artery, and the extension of the Northern Highway as its man-made second. The accessible beaches and the natural harbors the coastline provided made it suitable for overseas trade. In his mind’s eyes he saw dozens of ships arriving, laden with goods, and as many leaving for faraway destinations, like the Ronicerian Isles and— He paled as he looked again along the inviting beaches.

“Open. Wide open. As an open hand. An entire fleet could disembark here. Soldiers, equipment, weapons… It could all be on land before we even got wind of it.”

He gripped the rigging more firmly and breathed through his open mouth.

“We must have permanent scouting patrols… But even so the
warnings wouldn’t come in time. Who? Who could land here?”

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He tried to keep his mounting unrest at bay. Was it too late? He

should have thought about this earlier. Or maybe he had, without being fully aware of it, when he ordered the construction of Lorseth Harbor. He tried to control his thoughts, to think calmly and straight, but he couldn’t prevent the several possible nightmares racing through his head.

“The Mukthars? No. They are not a seafaring nation, and they
have no ships. I doubt they even know how to build them. The pirates
of the Ronicerian Archipelago? No. They operate mainly separately
these days. Brendygonn II chased them from the main isles and
broke their league when he proclaimed himself Overlord. They’re
more smugglers than pirates anyway. As long as the Plains aren’t developed they won’t be interested either. Father then? Ximerion has a
fleet. No. Father can’t spare them. He needs too many ships to guard
his southern harbors against Lorsanthia. Besides, he has to safeguard communication and trade with the Isles. The only unknown
factor, as usual, is Lorsanthia. Its expansion seems to have been
aimed landward in the past. Does it have a fleet at all? And if so, how
big is it? How well equipped? Are the ships built for transportation of
troops over long distances? Can they navigate in open sea, so they
won’t be noticed from the coast? Could they take us by surprise? Can
Lorsanthia risk such an operation as long as Father’s fleet is at
large?”

So many questions. He wished he had thought of them before he sent out Timishi and Lorcko. He watched the coast intently. Mile after mile of unprotected and indefensible beaches. The sea was calm, with waves which, breaking on the shore, left slowly retreating, dissolving foam. A beautiful, peaceful sight that in Anaxantis’s mind became the scene of a possible disaster.

He groaned.

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Tomar would kill him, but Great Renuvia needed, needed a fleet of

its own. Once trade began to flourish it would attract all kinds of dangerous people like a field of ripened grain attracts locusts.

He gritted his teeth.

“The cost of maintaining a fleet will be crippling. Taxes and the
tribute will have to be raised. Again. How to explain the rise in a way
the people will understand that it is for their own protection? There
must be another way. Another way to raise money for a fleet, another way to avert an attack by sea.”

Deep furrows formed on his brow. Somehow it had to be tied in all together. Somehow there must be a way to protect Great Renuvia from all attacks. He reached out with his mind. Somewhere in all the information he had gathered, in everything he had read and experienced, there must be a solution. The solution. A grand strategy that would insure the safety of the people entrusted to his care.

Again he looked out over the mesmerizing waves to the beaches, squinting his eyes.

This was so not what he had wanted. He had hoped to be left alone.

He had longed to stay out of all the mad pursuits for always more power, to quietly build a prosperous region where people could live their lives in peace. He had wanted to stay far away from the tempta— tions of the Devil’s Crown and his mother’s ambitions. He had hoped to be able to use whatever military glory the Zinchara had brought him, to never have to fight again. To be the warlord who never went to war again.

He didn’t mind the work, the stultifying — never mind how much Tomar tried to lighten his burden — administrative chores. He loved the planning and the organizing, making his friends into a team and his collaborators into friends. He savored the diplomacy involved in making all sorts of classes and people see how the land could be 56
organized to everyone’s profit. How they could all live a good life together. But that task was still huge.

He had set aside a large demesne for himself, from the bridge crossing the Mirax, extending for more than fifty miles westward, encompassing both banks. He meant to keep the Duchy of Stonebridge just for Ehandar and himself. He planned to build a small castle near the southern bank, surrounded by woods, more designed for comfort and easy living than defense. Lush gardens all around and some guesthouses. He was going to keep the population sparse. Only a few villages and farms on the outskirts would be permitted to spring into existence. He hoped to spend as much of his free time there as possible with long walks in the woods, swimming in the Mirax, and entertaining friends.

And loving Ehandar. Making him feel that he was loved and cher— ished beyond all others. Making sure that Ehandar knew he was truly the love of Anaxantis’s life, and that nothing could ever come between them.

His thoughts returned to the new problem. If it had been feasible, he would have had a great wall built to protect his shores. No, the answer lay not in the total isolation of Great Renuvia, he knew.

For more than an hour he stood on the forecastle deck, looking out over the virgin, vulnerable beaches. Slowly a plan formed in his mind.