Enchanter (Book 7) (58 page)

I took a swallow of wine, and regarded the goddess.  “There is more to life than fun.  We are in the midst of a dangerous game, you and I.  And the others.  Among mortals, very few know of our interactions.  Pentandra is one.  Work with her,” I stressed.  “Not against her.”

“She nearly became my avatar herself, were it not for her protections,” admitted Ishi.  “She held such promise . . . but marriage is utterly
ruining
her.”

“Maturing her, I’d say,” I offered.

“Regardless, she could have been my champion, not my opponent.  Your own marriage has not reduced your desire,” she pointed out, “even within its bounds.”

“Penny’s desire is fine,” I defended.  “She’s just getting used to a new job.  With great challenges,” I said, pointedly.  “My own marriage is . . .”

“I know,” she answered, quietly.  “I hear all that is said as an act of love or pleasure.  I witnessed the whole delightfully sordid affair.  I’d say I was proud of you, if I didn’t know how you would choose to take it.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of,” I sulked.

“Which is
why
I was proud for you,” she emphasized.  “It wasn’t easy to do that, Min, I know.  Many a woman has had to swallow her pride and conquer her fear and bed her rapist, for lack of an alternative.  Occasionally men must do the same.  In your case, it’s not merely an issue of opportunity . . . Isily truly has feelings for you.”

I paled at that notice.  “I know.  She’s expressed them.”

“Oh, not the ones in her secret heart – those would turn your blood cold,” she smiled.  “She’s ambitious beyond reason.  Queen would not be an adequate title for her.  She dreams of killing Dunselen, killing Alya, killing the Royal Family, and putting you on the throne as Archmage.”

That was incredibly disturbing news.  But it did explain her motives.  “She’s continued to meddle with me, too.  She cast a charm on Alya, similar to the one she cast on me. Pscyhomancy.”

“Oh, consider it gone,” the goddess said, dismissively.  “Those spells are so quaint.  She wishes to use your wife, until she can dispose of her.  Well, I do applaud ambition, but this crosses some of
my
lines.  The next time you lay with her, the charm will evaporate . . . as long as you do your husbandly chore properly.”

“I know what I’m doing, I assure you!” I said, far more defensively than I desired.

“Believe me, I of all deities know.  I look forward to testing that proposition,” she smiled, sultrily.  “You know you and I still have business.”

I groaned inside my head.  “When things are stabilized here, then we will discuss our business.  But not until.  There is a conspiracy against me I have to sort out.”

“More than one,” she agreed.  “But Isily’s is by far the most dangerous and unpredictable.  She dallies with forces she does not understand, and does not appreciate.”

“Snowstone?  Irionite?”

“Fatherhood,” she said, shaking her head.  “Her own sire was a meek man, rarely present in her life.  When she became Talented he sent her away.  She does not appreciate just how passionate you are about your children.  And how much you love your wife.  That, I believe, will be her undoing.”

“That would be lovely.  Just how many of these maidens do you have?” I asked, changing the subject.  Every woman loves to talk about her work.

“I recruited just over a hundred from the camps, once I took this avatar,” she said, proudly.  “More than half were virgins.  All were comely, but not all were talented enough to learn the highest of my arts.”

“They seem pretty enough,” I ventured.

“These are the ones who made the grade,” she nodded, proudly.  “Strong, proud, feminine women, intelligent enough to use their minds and their bodies in concert.  Some have become quite adept at the erotic arts.  The rest are useful in their own ways.”

“And you take care of them all?”

“The House does,” she nodded.  “Every girl is under contract and well-provided for.  We even hold classes in music, dance, and reading,” she added.  “Two of the girls have married already, but we’re just getting started . . .”

“Most of them have aspirations of that?”

“Youth and beauty only last so long, for mortal women,” she said, quietly.  “Some of them may take holy orders, but most seek a good match with an artisan.  Or even a lord.”

“How about a warrior?” I asked, suddenly realizing how Anguin could entice the 3
rd
Commando to Vorone.

*

*

Once I got Ishi calmed down and willing to contribute in a more positive way, I again sought out the Duke.  I found him on a balcony outside, enjoying the night air.  Once he peeled the maiden off his lap and sent her for wine, I sat next to him and start talking business.

“Thank you again for coming, Minalan,” he said, seriously, after the girl had left.  “But I know you didn’t come here just to escape the boredom of your lands.”

“My lands are actually quite interesting, at the moment.  But no, I didn’t.  I came to discuss an idea I had last summer.”

“And what idea is this?” he asked, almost reluctantly.

“You understand that Vorone is poorly defended by men who are not quite professional?”

Anguin scowled.  “It has been brought up once or twice in court,” he agreed.

“Well, the next time the Dead God breaks the treaty and rolls out of the Penumbra, after Tudry and Megelin, where do you think it is likely that he’ll strike?”

“Vorone,” agreed the duke, miserably.  “He’ll come right for us, before he moves south into the Riverlands.”

“Indeed,” I nodded, lighting my pipe.  “Unless he has a more dangerous target to go after.”

“More dangerous?  Like what?” he asked, intrigued.

“During our journey across the Wilderlands last summer, Magelord Carmella and I discussed the possibility of raising a great fortress in the west, before the Pearwoods, to act as such a lure.  He could not strike Vorone without exposing himself to the new fortress.  And he could not attack the new fortress without exposing his back to Vorone and Tudry.”

Anguin looked thoughtful.  “Castles are expensive,” he began.

“Don’t I know it. I’m building a massive one, and I built six small ones last year,” I reminded him.  “This one would be very expensive.  But,” I added, “by employing magi and using construction enchantments, you can keep the costs down.  Further, it would provide jobs for thousands, for years.”

“Jobs I would have to pay for,” he countered.

“The Duchy would,” I agreed.  “What are your revenues, now?”

“Anemic,” he sighed.  “A tithe of what my father received, even amongst the Wilderlords.  So far, barely a few thousand gold.  But it is improving, as our influence goes,” he added.  “But not nearly enough to pay for a new castle.  It’s not even enough to cover our present expenses.”

“True.  But as your realm develops – particularly if you can control it with a strong military presence – then you will be able to increase taxes, fees, and tribute.”

“But for how long, before the Goblin King strikes?”

“The more you build, the more he will have to strike at – and the more men you will have to defend it.  What would happen, Your Grace, if he went against Tudry and Megelin?  And the valley fiefs on the edge of the Penumbra?  Where would those people flee?”

“Here,” he groaned.

“Yes, here – Vorone, which is poorly defended, overcrowded, and with few resources.  A flood of them, doubling your refugee population . . . and making it quite easy for the gurvani to surround the town and reduce it at their leisure.”

“A quick end to the short reign of Anduin II,” he sighed.  “That is not the legacy I wish to leave.”

“Nor should it be.  But if we invest in this new fortress, make it a focus of their efforts, then we can also quietly improve Vorone’s defenses, remove some of the surplus labor back to the countryside, establish some industry and some farmsteads . . . and give the folk of Tudry and the Penumbralands a place to flee to in refuge.  That
isn’t
your palace,” I emphasized. 

“Still, how to
pay
for it?” he repeated, frustrated.  “Can you continue to conjure gold?”

“No, not indefinitely.  But I can pledge some funds to start the project, if you will match them.  If,” I added, “you can commit to employing magi in the project.  And commit to staff it with professional soldiers.”

“What kind of cost would such a structure entail?”

“At least fifty thousand ounces of gold.  And take at least ten years to complete, even with magic.  If we do it correctly.”

“Ten years?  And fifty thousand ounces of gold?” he asked, aghast.  “For a castle in the wilderness built against a day that may never come?”

“It will come, Your Grace,” I assured him, calmly.  “It’s inevitable.  It will likely come before the castle is finished, but that will be doubly true if it is never started.  And there are other benefits,” I added.  “Political benefits.”

He stared at me.  “Go on,” he encouraged.

“Right now you are either viewed as Rard’s puppet, as the rebels see you, or as a brash young fool, as many of your high nobles undoubtedly see you.”

“Your candor is refreshing,” he said, sarcastically.

“I do you no favors by telling you lies,” I chuckled.  “That is the situation, and flattering your vanity will not change it.  But if you were to embark on an ambitious project, such as this fortress, none could say that you were prepared to abandon the north nor that you are Rard’s toy.  Such a fortress has never been built in the Wilderlands, by your sires or Rard’s.”

“True,” he considered.

“Further, such a fortress, staffed with doughty men and warmagi, would present an inherent threat to Castal,” I offered with a smile.  “A direct challenge to Castal’s domination of the Wilderlands.  Something to make Prince Tavard – and perhaps eventually King Tavard – respect the might of Alshar as a power, again.”

“And where would I get these warriors?  The 3
rd
Commando?”

“They would be a good start,” I agreed.  “Professional soldiers who dislike Rard, can’t join the rebels, and who need a home.  Offer them lands around this fortress in exchange for their service.  Bring them here, first, for training and to make them loyal to you.  Then cycle them through the land, to the castle and back.  If Rard can employ a Royal Guard, you can employ a professional army for your defense.”

“That has happened before,” he pointed out.  “History has rarely seen such experiments turn out well.  It often leads to tyrants.  And rebellions.”

“Agreed.  So we will handle this delicately.  Divide them into smaller units, emphasize their training of your folk, and make joining their corps a point of national service.”

“Those are all the sorts of ideas only a duke in the fullness of his power could employ,” he sighed.

“So we put you there – slowly.  Carefully.  Quietly.”

“And you really think these commandos will come to Alshar, if I simply invite them properly?  And pay them a pittance?  And promise them lands?”

“I think I’ve thought of a way you can entice them further,” I smiled.  “Let me tell you of the conversation I had this evening with Lady Pleasure . . .”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Ishi’s Dubious Blessing

We returned to Alshar late that night, after conferring into the wee hours with Penny and Arborn back in their apartment.  She was relieved I had extracted some concessions from our wayward goddess, and I told her to contact me if she had any more trouble.  I explained to her that I had promised to remove her continuity, if she dared disturb our efforts again.  Pentandra was impressed that I had developed that power.

So of course as we were transporting back home, I was furiously trying to imagine how to develop that power. 

But once we were back in our hall, in the privacy of our chamber, Alya yawned and wordlessly undressed, brushed her hair, and prepared to retire.  I did likewise, staring at her brushing her hair, looking off into space.

She was beautiful.  Still.  After two children and years of hard country life, she was still more beautiful in my eyes than Ishi.  That was a highly subjective opinion, but it was a highly informed one, too.  It angered me that Isily would dare interfere with my wife – angered me more than the offense she had committed with me.  Combined with her stealing from me a child without my consent, it made me want to commit a sin.

But as I gazed upon my wife all thought of Isily left me.  Alya was who I had chosen, who I had devoted myself to, regardless of my past.  Of all the women in the world I had met in my life, she had warmed my soul and inspired my imagination more than even the goddess of love and beauty.

One might see it as a mark of maturity, I suppose, or a consequence of long attachment.  The clergy would tell you that the holy sacrament of parenthood bound our souls together . . . but it was more than that, as powerful as those forces were.  My love for her transcended our parenthood.  Even our marriage.  She had been with me in my darkest hours, when I was certain I would be responsible for the deaths of thousands – including my own.  She had never lost faith in me.  Even when Pentandra had shown up into our lives, unannounced.