Angus Wells - The God Wars 03 (50 page)

           
"Horul!" declared a
kiriwashen Calandryll thought was named Machani. "How long should that
take? With Anwar-teng in jeopardy each day!"

           
"This warlock shape-shifter is
not among the Orati." This defiantly from the wazir of that clan.
"I'd know it, were it so."

           
"He's a sorcerer of great
cunning," Ochen said, his tone diplomatically mild, "and great power.
That waxing greater the closer he comes to Tharn."

           
A kiriwashen nodded, eyes moving
from Ochen , to Chazali. "You're persuaded to their cause, Chazali
Nakoti?" he asked.

           
"I am," Chazali replied.
"I believe all they say.

           
I believe we renege our duty to Khan
and Mahzlen—to Horul himself!—do we not aid them."

           
Aijan Makusen spoke then for the
first time, and all fell silent.

           
"Shall Ochen Tajen not soon be
named wazir- narimasu? Can any here doubt the loyalty of Chazali Nakoti? Can we
then doubt their belief, that these outlanders war with Tharn himself? That
some among them have spoken with our god? I say we must aid them as best we
may."

           
Protests erupted then: that the
giving of such aid must halt the army's advance too long, work to the advantage
of the rebels, that there could be no certainty of finding Rhythamun among the
massed humanity of the Makusen forces, that perhaps these outlanders were
employed by the rebels to slow the army, that perhaps they ensorcelled both
Ochen and Chazali.

           
The tumult died as Aijan Makusen
raised a hand. "For my own part I cannot believe a wazir of Ochen Tajen's
undoubted power might be so seduced," he declared, "and so, that
Chazali Nakoti is not enspelled, for Ochen should know it. Therefore, I cast my
vote for belief and aid."

           
Dark faces turned toward the old
man, tawny eyes studying him, some with acceptance, Calandryll thought, but
others with disbelief. Chafing, he wondered how long this debate should
continue, how it should be settled. He turned a grateful gaze on Ochen as the
wazir offered a solution, looking first to Aijan Makusen, speaking when the
supreme commander nodded his assent.

           
"I am not ensorcelled," he
said, "neither Chazali. But that none here present entertain doubt I
suggest you examine us. Look into our minds, and then into those of our
outlander allies, and you shall know the truth of what we tell you."

           
"That would seem a satisfactory
resolution," Aijan Makusen said. "Do you others agree?"

           
There was a murmur of consent and
the assembled wazirs rose, beckoning Ochen forward.

           
The ancient sorcerer faced them
almost defiantly as they locked their eyes on his wrinkled face. They began to
speak, in unison, and the great tent filled with the scent of almonds. It took
no more than a few heartbeats, not so long as Ochen himself had taken to enter
the minds of the questers, back in the keep atop the Daggan Vhe. "So, do
you see clearer now?" he demanded when it was done, and the wazirs nodded,
murmuring their agreement.

           
Chazali rose then, accepting the
examination for all Calandryll read resentment on his face, and then, in turn,
each of the questers. Calandryll felt the thirty eyes fasten on his, and it was
as though he pitched headlong into darkness, falling. He staggered, shaking his
head, ,as he felt their hold released, the insubstantial tendrils that had
wandered the pathways of his brain withdrawing. For an instant his ears rang,
and "then he heard the wazir named Tazen say, "There can be no doubt.
All we have heard is true."

           
"Horul!" said another.
"Shall we see Tharn raised then?"

           
"It shall not be through any
want of our aid," Aijan Makusen said, his slanted eyes narrowing as they
turned to Ochen. "What would you have done, wazir?"

           
"I'd go on to Anwar-teng,"
Ochen answered, "in company with these four—I deem it the wiser course
that we apprise the wazir-narimasu of all we know, as soon we may. For the
rest, I'm in agreement with these others that Rhythamun may evade discovery—may
perhaps not be among the Orati even—but still I'd have a search mounted."

           
"To search the army—to thus
delay—can only aid the rebels," a kiriwashen murmured. "Shall that
not favor the Mad God?"

           
"'Does Rhythamun gain that
limbo where Tharn rests the rebels shall need no further aid," Ochen said.

           
"No less shall the bloodshed of
this war aid the god," a wazir whose name was Kenchun offered.

           
"Save these outlanders succeed,
it would seem the Mad God gains whichever way we turn."

           
"I cannot stand idle by and see
Anwar-teng despoiled," Aijan Makusen warned. "Mad God or no, we've a
duty to Khan and Mahzlen, and that we cannot forswear."

           
"Aye," said Ochen,
"that I know. I'd find a compromise."

           
It seemed to Calandryll as he
listened to them that the Jesserytes were not a people much given to compromise
of any kind. On the faces of the kiriwashen he could see alarm at the prospect
of granting the insurgents such time to strengthen their position as the
searching of the army must take,- on the faces of the wazirs he saw the contradicting
pull of clan duty and fear of Tharn's resurrection.

           
"A compromise?" he heard
Aijan Makusen say. "How may we achieve that, without betrayal to our duty
or our god?"

           
Ochen thought a moment. Then, a wry
smile curving his lips: "Only with difficulty,* only with a little
patience I fear some shall find hard come by."

           
"Does it not conflict with
those duties we owe the Mahzlen," Aijan Makusen said, his eyes scanning
the assembly, issuing an unspoken command, "then we shall find such
patience."

           
Ochen nodded and said, "Then
this night I'd ask the kiriwashen and the kutushen—all the officers— to pass
word among their followers. Is any man aware of strangeness—a friend who seems
not himself, sickness, anything untoward—let him report it. I'd ask that the
ranks of the Orati be searched for Jabu Orati Makusen. Does he come
forward"—a doubting smile curved the wazir's lips—"then let the
wazirs bind him with gramaryes and slay him. Does he look to flee, the same.
Does Rhythamun yet hold that luckless form, he may well seek to take another.
Be that the case, Jabu Orati will be dead, but likely the occupation of
Rhythamun's next victim will be noticed. Remember always that you deal with a
sorcerer of terrible strength!

           
"All this, I know, must delay
the march, but Horul willing, not for too long."

           
He paused for breath and the wazir
of the Orati— Kellu, Calandryll remembered was his name—said, "Must we
examine every kotu-anj among our warriors, that shall delay us longer."

           
Aijan Makusen spoke again: "We
shall allow two days for such investigation, occult and physical, as you
require. Does that commence this night it may be done in such time, I
think."

           
"Do we all bend to the
task," said Kellu, "then, aye."

           
"Shall you not join in this,
Ochen Tajen?" asked another.

           
Ochen sighed, shaking his head.
"I fear that all this may prove fruitless," he murmured, ignoring the
gasps, the grunts of outrage that met the announcement. His voice grew stronger
as he continued, "But nonetheless needful! Does Rhythamun seek to conceal
his foul self amid the men of Pamur-teng would you have it said we failed in
our duty? That we, lax, allowed him such refuge?"

           
He waited as the kiriwashen and the
wazirs voiced denial.

           
"The search shall be
made," said Aijan Makusen. "Even be it time wasted, I'd not have such
accusation made. But swift! We've another call on our loyalties."

           
"Aye, that I know," Ochen
said, "and would not ask for more. As for me—I ride on, to
Anwar-teng."

           
"You'd have an escort?"
Aijan Makusen asked.

           
"No, though I thank you,"
Ochen returned, and encompassed the questers with a gesture, "we five
shall go alone. The insurgents are less likely to find so small a party, while
a larger group must surely be noticed. Horul willing, we shall gain the teng
unharmed."

           
"And do you not?" asked
Kellu, to which Ochen shrugged and smiled a silent answer.

           
"Should we find
Rhythamun," asked Dakkan, "what are we to do with the Arcanum? How
shall we recognize the book?"

           
Ochen looked to Calandryll,
motioning that he should speak. He said, "It is a small book, bound in
black, the title inscribed in red. It seems an insignificant thing, save for
the malign aura it bears. We are sworn to deliver it to Vanu, as I have told
you, that the holy men of that land might destroy it."

           
"Then do we find it, and you be
slain," said Aijan Makusen with blunt pragmatism, "we shall deliver
the book there. My word on that."

           
"Then you've our thanks,"
Calandryll said.

           
A grim smile di\rided the old man's
stern features for a moment. "I'd no more see the Mad God raised than
concede the rebels Anwar-teng. I pray Horul you succeed." The smile
disappeared as his eyes swept the table. "So, we've much to do and long
leagues yet to march. Do you kiriwashen go to your duties, then,- and you
wazirs to yours."

           
The commanders and the sorcerers
rose, quitting the tent. Chazali paused, studying the questers. "I've
another duty now," he said, "and must go to my Nakoti. Should we not
meet again ere you depart, know that my prayers go with you, and you shall be
ever welcome in my home." He turned to Ochen. "Horul be with you, old
friend. I pray we meet again ere long."

           
"And I," the wazir
murmured.

           
They clasped hands, and then Chazali
bowed deep to the questers, again to Aijan Makusen, and spun round, marching
briskly from the pavilion.

           
"I, too, have duties I must
attend," said Aijan Makusen, "do you excuse me."

           
It was a tactful dismissal: Ochen
bowed and the questers followed suit, going after the wazir out of the tent.

           
The night was loud now with more
than the natural clamor of a bivouacked army as the kiriwashen and the wazirs
went about their tasks. Orders rang out, riders cantered by, soldiers came from
tents and cookfires,* all was disciplined confusion, the unprecedented presence
of foreigners in the midst of a Jesseryte army ignored. They found their horses
where the standards of the Nakoti fluttered over the ranked tents and saw the
animals bedded as comfortably as was possible, bringing their gear to the
pavilion Ochen indicated.

           
It was smaller than the great tent
of Aijan Makusen, but still luxurious, divided into compartments, with rugs
scattered about the floor and braziers filling the interior with warmth. Ochen
showed them where they might sleep, Calandryll and Bracht separated from the
two women by a wall of heavy silk. The forward area was set with a table and
faldstools, open to afford a view of the encampment, and the wazir stood there,
looking out at the bustle.

           
"Think you he's here?"
Calandryll asked, coming to stand beside the smaller man.

           
"No." Ochen shook his
head, his next words confirming the doubts Calandryll had earlier felt.
"Was he ever here, he saw us arrive and took his cue to depart. He draws
too close to his goal that he'd risk discovery."

           
"Then why suggest this
search?" Bracht gestured at the camp, buzzing now like a disturbed
hornets' nest.

           
"For fear I'm wrong."
Ochen sighed wearily, his voice dropping close to a whisper as he added,
"And to slow the army's advance, Horul forgive me."

           
"What?" Confusion set a
frown on the Kern's face. "Why?"

           
Ochen moved from his observation,
crossing the vestibule to a brazier. He stretched out his hands, palms forward,
to the flames. "I believe," he murmured, almost too low they might
hear him, "that Rhythamun likely avoided the line of march. Did he join
the Nakoti legions, he must travel at the army's pace, and he's likely
impatient now; eager to reach his goal. I believe he goes on, to Anwar- teng or
the Borrhun-maj.