Magician (77 page)

He let his mind drift a little, then
shook himself out of his brooding While no longer a moody boy, he
still tended to let introspection overtake him. He found it best to
keep busy and avoid such wasteful pastimes.

“It is a short autumn.”

Arutha looked to his left and found
Roland standing nearby. The Squire had caught the Prince lost in
thought and had made his approach without detection. Arutha found
himself irritated. He shrugged it off and said, “And a short
winter will follow, Roland. And in the spring.

“What news of Longbow?”

Arutha balled a gloved fist and gently
struck the stones of the wall, the slow, controlled gesture, a clear
sign of his frustration. “I’ve regretted the need for his
going a hundred times. Of the three, only Garret shows any sense of
caution. That Charles is a Tsurani madman, consumed by honor, and
Longbow is . . .”

“Longbow,” finished Roland.

“I’ve never met a man who
reveals so little of himself, Roland If I live as long as an elf, I
don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes him the way
he is.”

Roland leaned against the cool stones
of the wall and said, “Do you think they’re safe?”

Arutha returned his attention to the
sea. “If any man in Crydee can crest the mountains into the
Tsurani-held valley and get back, it is Martin. Still, I worry.”

Roland found the admission surprising.
Like Martin, Arutha was not a man to reveal what he felt. Sensing the
Prince’s deep trouble, Roland changed the topic. “I’ve
a message from my father, Arutha.”

“I was told there was a personal
message among the dispatches from Tulan.”

“Then you know Father’s
calling me home.”

“Yes. I’m sorry about the
broken leg.”

“Father was never much of a
rider. It’s the second time he’s fallen from his horse
and broken something. Last time, when I was little, it was his arm.”

“It’s been a long time
since you were home.”

Roland shrugged. “With the war, I
felt little need to return. Most of the fighting’s been around
here. And,” he added with a grin, “there are other
reasons to stay.”

Sharing the smile, Arutha said, “Have
you told Carline yet?”

Roland lost his grin. “Not yet. I
thought I’d wait until I’d arranged for a ship south.”
With the Brotherhood’s abandonment of the Green Heart, travel
by land to the south was nearly impossible, for the Tsurani had cut
off the roads to Carse and Tulan.

A shout from the tower caused them to
turn. “Trackers approaching!”

Arutha squinted against the glare
reflecting off the distant sea and could make out three figures
trotting easily along the road. When they were close enough to be
seen clearly, Arutha said, “Longbow.” There was a note of
relief in his voice.

Leaving the wall, Arutha descended the
steps to the courtyard to wait for the Huntmaster and his men. Roland
stood by his side as the three dusty men entered the gates of the
castle. Both Garret and Charles remained silent as Martin said,
“Greetings, Highness.”

“Greetings, Martin. What news?”
asked the Prince.

Martin began to recount the facts
unearthed at the Tsurani camp, and after a moment Arutha cut him off.
“Better save your wind for the council, Martin. Roland, go
gather Father Tully, Swordmaster Fannon, and Amos Trask, and bring
them to the council hall.”

Roland hurried off, and Arutha said,
“Charles and Garret are to come as well, Martin.”

Garret glanced at the former Tsurani
slave, who shrugged. Both knew the long-anticipated hot meal would
have to wait a little longer upon the Prince’s convenience.

Martin took the seat next to Amos
Trask, while Charles and Garret remained standing. The former sea
captain nodded a greeting to Martin, as Arutha pulled out his own
chair, as was his habit, ignoring most formalities when with his
councillors. Amos had become an unofficial member of Arutha’s
staff since the siege of the castle; he was an enterprising man of
many unexpected skills.

Fannon sat to Arutha’s right.
Since his wound, he had been content to accept Arutha as commander in
Crydee and had sent a personal note to Lord Borric advising him so.
The Duke had sent a reply ratifying the transfer of command, and
Fannon had returned to his former role as adjutant. The Swordmaster
seemed pleased with the situation.

Arutha said, “Martin has just
returned from a mission of special importance. Martin, tell us what
you’ve seen.”

Martin said, “We climbed the Grey
Towers and entered the valley where the Tsurani have their
headquarters.”

Fannon and Tully looked at the
Huntmaster with surprise, while Amos Trask guffawed. “You toss
aside a small saga in one sentence,” said the seaman.

Martin ignored the comment and said, “I
think it best to let Charles tell you what we saw.”

The former Tsurani slave’s voice
held a note of concern. “From all signs, the Warlord will
launch another major offensive next spring.”

Everyone in the room sat speechless,
save Fannon. “How can you be sure? Are there new armies in his
camp?”

Charles shook his head. “No, the
new soldiers will not arrive until just before the first spring thaw.
My former countrymen have little liking for your cold climate. They
will stage during the winter months on my former homeworld. They’ll
move through the rift just before the offensive.”

Even after five years, Fannon still had
lingering doubts about Charles’s loyalty, though Longbow held
none. “How, then,” said the Swordmaster, “can you
be certain there is to be an offensive? We’ve had none since
the assault on Elvandar three years ago.”

“There are new banners in the
Warlord’s camp, Swordmaster, the banners of the houses who
belong to the Blue Wheel Party. They have been absent for six years.
It can mean only another major change within the High Council. The
Alliance for War is again formed.”

Of those in the room, only Tully seemed
to grasp what Charles was saying. He had made a study of the Tsurani,
learning all he could from the captured slaves. He said, “You
had better explain, Charles.”

Charles took a moment to organize his
remarks and said, “You must understand one thing of my former
homeland. Above everything except honor and obedience to the Emperor,
there is the High Council. To gain in the High Council is worth much,
even the risk of life itself. More than one family has been destroyed
by plots and intrigues within the council. We of the Empire refer to
this as the ‘Game of the Council.”

“My family was well placed within
the Hunzan Clan, neither great enough to warrant notice by our clan’s
rivals, nor small enough to be relegated to only minor roles. We had
the benefit of knowing much of the matters before the High Council
without having to worry overly much about what decisions were made.
Our clan was active in the Party for Progress, for we numbered many
scholars, teachers, healers, priests, and artists in our families.

“Then for a time the Hunzan Clan
left the Party for Progress, for reasons not clear to any but the
highest family leaders, reasons I can only speculate on. My clan
joined with the clans of the Blue Wheel Party, one of the oldest in
the High Council. While not so powerful as the Warlord’s War
Party, or the traditionalists of the Imperial Party, it still has
much honor and influence.

“Six years ago, when I first came
here, the Blue Wheel Party had joined with the War Party to form the
Alliance for War. Those of us in the lesser families were not told
why such a radical change in alignment had come about, but there was
no doubt it was a matter of the Game of the Council.

“My personal fall from grace and
my enslavement was certainly necessary to ensure that those of my
clan would stay above suspicion until the time was right for whatever
move was being planned. It is now clear what that move was.

“Since the siege of this castle,
I have seen no sign of any soldier who’s a member of the Blue
Wheel families. I took it to mean the Alliance for War had been
ended.”

Fannon interrupted. “Are you then
saying the conduct of this war is but an aspect of some political
game in this High Council?”

Charles said, “Swordmaster, I
know it is difficult for a man as steadfast in his loyalty to his
nation as you are to understand such a thing. But that is exactly
what I am saying.

“There are reasons, Tsurani
reasons, for such a war. Your world is rich in metals, metals we
treasure on Kelewan. Also, ours is a bloody history, and all who are
not of Tsuranuanni are to be feared and subjugated. If we could find
your world, then might you not someday find ours?

“But more, it is a way for the
Warlord to gain great influence in the High Council. For centuries we
have fought the Thuril Confederation, and when we at last were forced
to the treaty table, the War Party lost a great deal of power within
the council. This war is a way for that lost power to be regained.
The Emperor rarely commands, leaving the Warlord supreme, but the
Warlord is still the Lord of a family, the Warchief of a clan, and as
such is constantly seeking to gain advantage for his own people in
the Game of the Council.”

Tully looked fascinated. “So the
Blue Wheel Party joining with the Warlord’s party, then
suddenly withdrawing, was but a ploy in this political game, a
maneuver to gain some advantage?”

Charles smiled. “It is very
Tsurani, good Father. The Warlord planned his first campaign with
great care, then three years into it finds himself with only half an
army. He is overextended, unable to bring news of smashing victories
to the High Council and the Emperor. He loses position and prestige
in the game.”

Fannon said, “Unbelievable!
Hundreds of men dying for such a thing.”

“Such is the way of the Game of
the Council, Swordmaster. The Warlord Almecho is an ambitious man. To
be Warlord one must be. He must rely on other ambitious men, many who
would seek to take his mantle should he falter. To keep these men as
allies rather than foemen, he must occasionally look the other way.

“In the first year of the war,
the Warlord’s subcommander, a man called Tasio of the
Minwanabi, ordered an attack upon one of the LaMutian garrisons.
Besides being second-in-command in the campaign on this world, Tasio
is also the cousin of Lord Jingu of the Minwanabi. The order to
attack was given to Lord Sezu of the Acoma, sworn enemy of Jingu. The
Acoma soldiers were almost destroyed to a man, including Lord Sezu
and his son Tasio arrived moments too late to save the Acoma, but in
time to seize the battle and bring the Warlord a victory.”

Fannon’s eyes were round with
disbelief. “That’s the blackest duplicity I have ever
heard of.”

Arutha said, “It’s also
brilliant, by these people’s standards.”

Charles nodded in agreement with the
Prince’s remark. “The Warlord would forgive Tasio getting
one of his better commanders slaughtered and losing the entire Acoma
army, in exchange for a victory and strengthened support by the
Minwanabi.

“Any Ruling Lord who had no
direct stake in the game would applaud the move as a masterstroke,
even those who admired Lord Sezu. It gained Almecho and Lord Jingu
many allies in the council. So the Warlord’s political
opponents, needing to devise a way to counter his growing power,
created the situation I described, overextending the Warlord and
leaving him unable to prosecute this war. Many families hovering near
the edge of the War Party would then be drawn to the Blue Wheel and
their allies for delivering such a stunning blow.”

Arutha said, “But the important
fact for us is that this Blue Wheel is once more allied with the
Warlord, and their soldiers will be rejoining the war come spring.”

Charles looked at those in the council
hall. “I cannot begin to guess why there has once again been a
realignment in the council. I am too removed from the game. But as
His Highness has said, what is important for those of us here in
Crydee to know is that as many as ten thousand fresh soldiers may
come against one of the fronts in the spring.”

Amos scowled. “That’s a
backbreaker, for certain.”

Arutha unfolded a half-dozen
parchments. “Over the last few months, most of you have read
these messages.” He looked at Tully and Fannon “You’ve
seen the pattern begin to emerge.” He picked up one parchment
“From Father: ‘Constant Tsurani sorties and raids keep
our men in a state of unease. Our inability to close with the enemy
has lent a dark aspect to all we do. I fear we shall never see an end
to this business . . .’ From Baron Bellamy: ‘. . .
increased Tsurani activity near the Jonril garrison. I deem it
advisable to increase our commitment there this winter, while the
Tsurani are normally inactive, lest we lose that position next
spring.’ Squire Roland will be supervising a joint
reinforcement from Carse and Tulan at Jonril this winter.”

Several in the room glanced at Roland,
who stood near Arutha’s shoulder. The Prince continued. “From
Lord Dulanic, Knight-Marshal of Krondor: ‘While His Highness
shares your concern, there is little to indicate the need for alarm
Unless some intelligence can be produced to give credence to your
fears of possible future Tsurani offensives, I have advised the
Prince of Krondor to refuse your request for elements of the
Krondorian garrison to be sent to the Far Coast . . .’ ”
Arutha looked around the room. “Now the pattern is clear.”

Setting aside the parchments, Arutha
pointed at the map affixed to the tabletop. “We have committed
every available soldier. We dare not pull men from the south for fear
of the Tsurani moving against Jonril. With the garrison strengthened,
we will have a stable situation down there for a while. Should the
enemy attack the garrison, it can be reinforced from Carse and Tulan.
Should the enemy move against either castle, they leave Jonril at
their back. But all that will fail should we strip those garrisons.