At the Gates of Darkness (9 page)

As children they shared certain interests in things magical, and as initiates into the Circle of Light, they shared the early training. But when the Regent’s Meet had disbanded the Circle and, according to rumors, conspired to murder some of their more powerful members, the brothers had gone their separate ways for years.

Later they discovered that on several occasions they had almost run into each other, one time living on opposite sides of the same island for the better part of a year, though Gulamendis had been high in the hills in a cave, as his brother wryly pointed out, while Laromendis had been down in the island’s sole town working as a laborer while the purging of the Circle had continued.

Only the Demon Legion’s onslaught had put off the further persecution of the remaining members of the Circle. Gulamendis was certain others still hid, but most had answered the call of their people, and had been welcomed back to Andcardia when the Regent’s Meet granted amnesty.

Except for the Demon Masters. It was fate that spared Gulamendis, for only days before his arrival at the Regent’s court his brother had “volunteered” for the mission to seek out a refuge for the Taredhel should the demons overrun their capital.

Gulamendis had spent some time in a cage but had been allowed to live; most Demon Masters hadn’t been so fortunate.

The sky lightened and blacks resolved into greys and lighter greys. The Demon Master waited until he could see enough of the trees above them to chance moving, and woke his brother.

Laromendis came awake instantly, but it was clear he was still exhausted. He glanced around and nodded. Without comment the two elves moved into the woods.

The trees were scrawny and parched, and both brothers knew that fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when stepped on, so both moved slowly and with care.

Finally they reached a small clearing, an extrusion of stone that formed a ridge, and on the other side the land began to once again fall away. They peered over the stone and Gulamendis whispered, “Merciful ancestors!”

As far as the eye could see ranged fires, organized in rank and file, so a crisscross of lines of flame defined areas. Around the fires rested figures, and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.

They moved back away from the edge into the relative shelter of the trees. The light from the fires had been what had illuminated the sky the night before, and now they saw that it wasn’t a small fire close by, but many distant fires that had pierced the gloom.

“It’s the Legion,” whispered Gulamendis.

Laromendis said, “Where are we?” As soon as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question, for his brother had no more knowledge of their whereabouts than he did.

They exchanged silent looks, and both knew the same thing; they were on the world being used by the Demon Legion as a staging ground. The demons below were unlike any they had seen or fought, all bearing arms, organized, and resting before invasion. There was a calm that was so unnatural for demons it was frightening, and from the organization witness, they would be moving soon.

Finally Gulamendis said, “There’s one good thing here.”

“Really?” asked his brother, eyes widening.

“If they’re here, and if they are going to invade Home, that means they have a way to get there.”

“A Demon Gate?”

“They must,” said the Demon Master. “We just need to find it and get through it before they do.”

His brother shook his head. Words failed him.

T
rumpets sounded.

James Dasher Jamison, Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinary of the Kingdom of the Isles, occasional diplomat, and full-time spy turned to his companions. Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were dressed as scholars, in light tan robes and sandals.

“One more time,” he said.

Pug smiled, but Magnus and Amirantha looked annoyed.

“One more time,” he repeated. “These stories must be the first thing you think of should you have to answer unexpected questions.

Pug looked at his son and the Warlock, and said, “I am Richard, a historian from the Royal Court of
Rillanon. I have been there for years.” Pug had spent enough time in the capital city over the last hundred years that he could easily describe most of the famous aspects of the “Jeweled City,” and its recent politics had been a constant discussion among the four of them as they sailed from Krondor to Queg.

“I am his first student, Martin,” said Magnus. “I am recently to the capital and am still finding my way around.” Unlike his father, Magnus had spent relatively little time in Rillanon, so the identity chosen would serve. “I originally came from Yabon.” He knew that area very well.

Both father and son looked at Amirantha who said, “I am Amirantha, a scholar from the distant city of Maharta. I have a royal patent from the Maharaja of Muboya, courtesy of General Kaspar, First Minister to the Maharaja, commissioning me to learn all I can about the nations of Triagia, and am collecting histories toward that end.”

“Try to look a little more enthusiastic,” said Jim.

“Shouldn’t we get up on deck?” asked Magnus.

Jim smiled. “Quegan protocol dictates we keep them waiting at least another five minutes, ten is better. Quegans are an odd people. They tend to self-aggrandizement, to the point of considering the Imperial Keshian Court degenerate, and see themselves as the true inheritors of all things grand and imperial. They would be a silly people if it wasn’t for that irritatingly large navy they insist on sailing all over the Bitter Sea. That gets them a great deal of respect they otherwise wouldn’t enjoy. Their position as something of a balance shifter here in the west keeps them more or less at peace with their neighbors, but should the cause arise where the Free Cities, Kesh, and the Kingdom could get over their own differences, we’d happily obliterate this island.” He said the last with a cheerful expression.

“But then you’d have a war over who got the island,” said Amirantha with a wry expression.

“Oh, I’d happily argue to just let Pug and some of his
compatriots sink it.” He looked at the magician. “You could manage that, couldn’t you?”

Pug shook his head and deemed not to answer.

“What we have now is a short time of it. The Imperial Archivist is at our disposal, but only for three days. I need you to discover what you need in two, because if I must break in and steal something, I need to plan it the day before we leave.” He sighed. “While I have little problem robbing the Quegans, I do have a problem with starting a needless war, especially when we may need to be fighting a far more dire one soon. So, try not to do anything overtly suspicious. The Quegans are suspicious by nature, and you will be watched, so always remember there are eyes on you, ears nearby, even if it doesn’t seem that way. Once we leave this cabin, we will be living our roles as nobles and scholars. If you have any questions, now is the time.”

No one did, as they had rehearsed their various roles for the seven days’ sailing time from Krondor to Queg. The necessity of having to arrive in public by ship had given them a great deal of time to review their plan.

“Well,” said Jim, standing, “I think we’ve kept the Quegan nobles standing in the hot sun long enough. Let us go and be diplomats.”

Pug and his two companions followed Jim up on the deck and found the sailors of the Kingdom ship
Royal Dolphin
securing their vessel. A long gangway had been run out to the dock below, and Jim paused dramatically at the top before starting his descent. Pug had not visited Queg in over a century and more than anything he was amazed at how little had changed.

The City of Queg, capital of the island nation of the same name, was really two cities. Below were the docks, poor quarter, and every manner of industry given to dirt, blood, filth, and ofal: the tanners, dyers, slaughterhouses, fish markets, and forges. The air hung heavy with smoke, soot, odors that assaulted the senses, and noise to deafen.

The streets were thronged with workers, traders, and fishmongers, though few travelers came and went; Queg was not considered a hospitable nation.

The upper city rose up on the hills behind, dominated by the Emperor’s palace. It shined in the sun, for it had been faced with white marble over the years, and this “gleaming jewel” of a building could be seen for miles out at sea on clear days. It was also, Pug judged, as fine an example of excesses and bad taste as one might find anywhere on Midkemia.

A delegation of Quegan officials waited on the dock, none of them looking especially pleased at the duty before them, but all affecting broad smiles and a forced air of conviviality that was less than persuasive. They wore the traditional white togas of office, all lined with a single band of color over the shoulder and along the hem. Those trimmed in red were city officials, while those in gold represented the Emperor. As only one person had gold trim, Jim presented himself to him. “I am Baron James, of the King’s Court in Rillanon, and these are my companions.”

The official said, “I am Lord Meridious, Chancellor of the Imperial Archives, and given responsibility for your visit.” He was a round-faced man, but broad of shoulders and under his fat heavy muscle was evident.

Jim shook the man’s outstretched hand and said, “I thank His Imperial Majesty for his courtesy and willingness to allow scholars access to your archives. Especially in light of the abrupt nature of the request.”

“It
was
a bit odd,” agreed the Chancellor, “but his Imperial Majesty is always anxious to keep harmonious relations with our neighbors and it seemed a small favor to ask.”

Jim turned and motioned to his three companions. He introduced Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha. Looking overawed by the presence of such a great personage, all three magicians managed a fair imitation of a self-conscious bow.

“We have litters ready to bear you to the palace,” said the Chancellor.

Jim nodded and with a tilt of his head indicated the others should follow. They walked down the docks, between two lines of Quegan soldiers, four with herald horns that had been sounded when the ship had arrived. Now they merely stood motionless in the hot sun awaiting the order to return to barracks.

Reaching the quay, they found four litters awaiting them. The various city officials, who had not uttered a word, retired to their various offices and the Chancellor indicated a litter for Jim to enter. Pug motioned for Magnus to take one of the litters as he would share the other with Amirantha.

The litter bearers were all uniformly muscular young men, wearing only the heavy linen skirt of their craft, and heavy-soled, cross-gartered sandals. Their bodies were oiled with flower-scented oils so their perspiration would not annoy their passengers. They picked up the litters and were off at a good pace, while two soldiers marched ahead clearing the streets of the citizens of Queg.

Amirantha kept his voice low, and in neutral tones said, “So, this is Queg?”

Pug smiled. He nodded. He knew as Amirantha did the chance was good they were being listened to by more than one of the bearers, who would almost certainly be a Quegan agent. “Yes,” said Pug. “Does your master know much of this place?”

“A little,” said Amirantha, going along with the pretense that he represented the Maharaja of Muboya. “One of my tasks was to learn as much about the Kingdom’s neighbors as I could, despite being tasked to study your nation. Queg was once part of Great Kesh, true?”

“Yes,” said Pug, assuming the Quegan agent listening would not be particularly attentive to a history lesson he knew as well as Pug did. “A great revolt in the south of the
Empire of Great Kesh, among the client states known as the Keshian Confederacy, caused the Empire to recall her legions from the north. They abandoned all the lands west of and south of Yabon. The Kingdom pushed out of Yabon into what is now the Far Coast, but the former Keshian cities on the shore of the Bitter Sea repulsed the Kingdom’s conquest and formed the Free Cities.

“Queg was unique as it had served as a naval yard to the south, and as garrison here, and while the Legion left, the navy refused to depart, as their families and lives were here. Kesh was too busy fighting in the south, and by the time that rebellion was crushed, Queg had achieved independence and controlled the Bitter Sea.” He paused as if thinking. “The people who lived here came from a relatively small province of the Empire, I believe called Itiac.” He knew better than that; they came from a province called Itaniac, but he wanted to have whoever listened think he was not an expert on the history of the island nation. “I want to study some documents from that era and before, as our Kingdom history is full of holes and many misunderstandings.

“Our relationship with Queg has not always been as good as it should be, and as a result there are many mistaken notions about this place and its people circulating in the Kingdom of the Isles. I will take some pride in correcting those misunderstandings.”

“Well, it’s all new to me,” said Amirantha, playing along. “Whatever I learn will be useful for my reports home. Perhaps my master will wish to send a trade delegation here; you say the Quegans build good ships?”

“Among the best,” said Pug, knowing that was shading the truth. The Quegans built fearsome war galleys, but they were coastal-going vessels not meant to be more than a day or two offshore. They had nothing that could cross so vast an expanse as the Endless Sea to the west of the Straits of Darkness and reach Novindus. Still, flattery always appealed to those who thought it was sincere.

Amirantha and Pug chatted about nothing particularly significant as they observed the city through which they passed. The docks and more disreputable inns and businesses gave way to a series of broad streets that were obviously occupied by middle-class to well-to-do businesses, many several stories tall, with the owning families occupying the top floors. Beyond that was a green belt of parks that was the absolute boundary between the lower and upper cities, for on the rising hillside large homes with sprawling yards and fountains gave way to even larger estates surrounded by high walls and sturdy gates. Most were guarded by soldiers wearing private livery, all attempting to outdo their neighbors in terms of ostentation. As opposed to the Imperial soldiers dispatched to meet them at the docks, these guardsmen wore highly polished chest guards and helms of steel. Some were painted in bright colors, while some affected gold trim and ridiculous plumes of feathers or dyed horsehair. Certainly the guards looked stout enough to keep vagabonds and rabble from disturbing their masters, but one glance from Amirantha to Pug revealed what the Warlock thought of these “fighting men,” should real trouble visit this island.

Upward they traveled, until they reached the Imperial district, the buildings that surrounded the Emperor’s palace and offices. These were apartments and villas set aside for the functionaries and officers of the court, and all the buildings had been faced with white marble. “Centuries ago, this part of the city was like that below, buildings of stone and wood, but an emperor—his name is lost on me now—decided to make this the most beautiful city in the world, so he started hauling white stone from a massive quarry to the south. Over the years this entire district has been finished to match.” He looked at Amirantha with an expression that communicated that what he said next was for the benefit of whoever eavesdropped on them. “It is said Rodric the Fourth, known as the ‘Mad King,’ was so envious he com
manded his city of Rillanon be likewise finished in stone, but because he could have none of this fine white marble, he was forced to settle for a less than satisfactory riot of colors.” The truth, as Pug knew, was exactly the opposite. The palace had always been faced with white marble but it was only after Rodric had begun the beautification of Rillanon, a task mostly completed by his successor, King Lyam, that the Emperor of Queg, by name Jumillis, had gone into a frenzy to likewise beautify all the Imperial district. The only reason he had stopped at the Imperial district is that the quarry ran low on marble, and what was left was harbored against the need for stones to repair weather and other damage.

Pug sat back silently for a moment; remembering King Rodric whom Pug had met on his first visit to Rillanon returned him to a dark and reflective mood he had managed to avoid since being sought out by Jim and Amirantha. Rodric was a sorely troubled but basically good man, driven mad by an illness no one could cure. Only lucid at the end of his life, he had named his cousin Lyam King and saved the nation from a bloody civil war on the heels of twelve years of fighting with the Tsurani.

That put him to thinking of all those he had lost over the years: Kulgan, his old teacher, and Meecham, Kulgan’s companion; Father Tully, one of his first and wisest teachers; Princess Carline, whom he once thought he loved; and Laurie, one of his closest friends as a man, who wed the Princess. Laurie had died too young and left Carline a widow far too long. Lord Borric…He sighed and Amirantha looked at him with a questioning expression. Pug held up his hand to indicate it was of no importance, yet with the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he knew it was. Katala, his first love, his first wife, lost to a wasting sickness no magic or art could cure. His first two children—William, his son, and Gaminia, the daughter of his heart—both lost at the end of the war with the Emerald Queen’s army. And now Miranda and his youngest, Caleb.

Pug pushed aside deep and dark feelings and chided himself for not getting over his black moods. He knew from the day he had bargained with the gods that this would be his fate, yet he still resented it.