Magician’s End (41 page)

‘What do you mean?’ asked Laromendis.

‘Your Lord Regent, in his arrogance, sent an envoy to instruct us as to how we must behave should any of our clans venture south of the River Boundary. He dictated to clans that occupied those hills and forests in the Green Heart for centuries while you were out flying among the stars. He said, should they return home, they must bend knee to him.’

‘I suspect,’ said Gulamendis, ‘the Lord Regent will not be dictating conditions to anyone any more. If what Tanderae says he saw was true, the Lord Regent, and most of his Meet, are already dead.’

‘Then we will deal with your new masters. Who will rule?’

‘A new Meet,’ said Gulamendis. ‘Tanderae will probably be the next Lord Regent.’

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a very old man wearing a robe and a necklace of charms. ‘Mistress,’ he said, bowing.

‘This is Arjuda, my shaman.’ She indicated that he should sit. ‘Now, tell him what you told me,’ she ordered, and the two brothers retold their story.

When they had finished, the shaman was silent for a very long time, then said, ‘I am troubled, Liallan. Of late I’ve had dreams, and there have been portents. I have consulted the smoke and looked into the waters.’

‘What did you see?’ she asked.

‘Time as we know it is ending and the new time will be forged by other hands if we do not act, but the risk is grave.’

‘How grave?’

‘Our people – all our kin, no matter how changed or distant – all of us stand before an abyss. From within that abyss comes a darkness so profound that it could be the end of all of us.’

Liallan was silent. Unlike some shamans, Arjuda was not given to theatrics or histrionics to add conviction to his foretelling. His skills were without question. Then she said, ‘Janil sent these two to find Cetswaya.’

‘Wise,’ said Arjuda. ‘He is among the very few I would place ahead of myself in understanding such things.’

‘Where abides Cetswaya?’

‘To the north,’ answered the old shaman. ‘As his father Arkan commanded, Antesh has taken the Ice Bears into the icelands again, to await such a time as they are safe to return.’

‘Why do I think such a time may not come?’ She rose. ‘Use your dream-magic to summon Cetswaya and his clan south,’ she instructed Arjuda. ‘Can you do that?’

‘I can try. Dream-magic between Cetswaya and myself has always been strong, but you’d do well to send a fast rider north to seek out the Ice Bears. They intend to enter the floes at the Black Ice Massive, on the shores of the frozen sea to the north of Sar-Sargoth. From there they will migrate east. The broken floes are thick with seal, walrus, and ice birds.’

‘I will send runners, for I think the shamans of the clans of the north must meet. Then we must plan to move south.’

Laromendis said, ‘You’ll aid us then?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I hoped, but didn’t expect. Why?’

Softly she said, ‘Because at night, I dream of dragons.’

She signalled the two Star Elves to follow her and led them and Arjuda outside.

She merely motioned and within minutes word was travelling through the camp that she would speak. A three-step platform was carried out by four strong moredhel warriors and she mounted it. Within minutes, the larger part of her people had gathered below on the hillside and down in the valley. She called out in a surprisingly strong and clear voice, ‘My people! Send the word to our brethren and our allies to gather. Send word to the humans at the Inclindel Gap, and to the Hadati tribes in the hills of Yabon, and to the eledhel in Elvandar. We will trouble them not if they do not hinder our passing, but we shall crush any who stand in our way.

‘In five days as the sun rises, the Snow Leopards will go south. We shall take the Inclindel Gap and pass through the land of the Hadati, past the borders of Elvandar, to E’bar to aid our besieged cousins, the taredhel!

‘My people, ready yourselves! The Snow Leopards march to war!’

•
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
•

Travel

J
IM DASHER GRIPPED THE SHEET.

The Roldem naval messenger ship
Lord Archibald
leaped through the combers as it swung around the southernmost point of Kingdom Island, a large, barren and uninhabited islet in the westernmost bay of the Sea of Kingdoms. It was one of the navy’s fastest cutters, and it was shadowing Prince Oliver’s fleet. Oliver had received word from his agents that Salador had marched on Silden, meaning that the coast between the two cities would be clear. It was his intention to land his army somewhere beneficial, organize them and march to confront Edward.

Over the previous few months, Jim had used every resource at his disposal to discover what he could about Oliver’s plans. Prince Oliver of Maladon and Simrick had cooperated by allowing his patience to wear thin. It had become obvious over the previous month that the Congress of Lords would not convene to crown a new king until a single clear claimant to the throne emerged.

All the voting nobles were in the field, under arms, or holed up in their castles awaiting the outcome. As the winners would vote and the losers would be in chains or dead, it was a foregone conclusion that the winning side in this conflict would end up naming the new king.

The Congress of Lords was largely a good thing in Jim’s opinion, when rival claimants agreed to adjudicate their differences peacefully; but when there was no clear claimant and the different sides had no intention of a peaceful settlement, civil war was the result.

Oliver had made his bargain with Chadwick of Ran. When the dust settled, Chadwick’s holdings would be likely to have appreciated by more than half, as would his revenues, and he would be the richest and most powerful duke in the Kingdom. Moreover, Chadwick’s idiot son would be given Montgomery’s position of Earl of Rillanon, effectively governor of the home island, when Montgomery was named Duke of Rillanon – which would occur as soon as Oliver took the throne and the current Duke of Rillanon died. And Oliver would ensure the latter followed the former quickly, Jim was certain.

Jim was also certain that Montgomery’s tenure would be a short one, ostensibly to show forgiveness of previous rivals, though Montgomery was a threat to no one, and eventually old Monty would be replaced by one of Oliver’s favourites.

What Oliver didn’t know was Jim Dasher Jamison, Count of this, Baronet of that, occasional thief, murderer, and professional liar, had tampered with his intelligence. Jim had intercepted messages from various vassals to Oliver and had tinkered with them for over a month now. He had learned long ago that the best lie was wrapped in truth. So rather than confuse Oliver with blatant disinformation, he had lulled him with slightly altered truths.

Oliver expected an unopposed landing on a wide stretch of coast due south of Malac’s Cross, which would put him on a beach below the headlands just two miles from where the Western Highway intersected the road between Salador and Silden. From there it would be a march due west to the Fields of Albalyn. He expected to be safe on both flanks, with Duke Arthur holding both Silden and Salador. His only threat was from Charles of Bas-Tyra, since their falling out, but because Bas-Tyra’s only route to aid Edward would be through Silden, Arthur of Salador would keep him from reaching Edward before the issue was decided.

Oliver also didn’t know that while Bas-Tyra’s ships were tightly packed around Rillanon, proudly flying banners – isolated and confined by Oliver’s allies – Charles had the loan of a separate fleet, that one being Roldem’s. Charles was either already with Edward or would be shortly.

It had taken a very persuasive Lady Franciezka Sorboz’s constant pressure on the king, coupled with King Carole’s own history of dealings with Oliver, to convince him that Roldem could not stand neutral in this coming civil war. It was clear that Oliver, should he take the Isles, would immediately become a threat to Roldem’s control of Olasko, and perhaps even to the home island itself.

Jim had met with Lady Franciezka briefly in Salador, both of them in disguise, and had departed two days before her. He trusted in her wits and abilities to get herself out of Arthur’s city and to Prince Edward, but he found himself worrying about her, and he hated that he worried. Their relationship was very complicated, as she was the only woman he genuinely loved, despite her having tried to have him killed twice. He turned his mind away from her and back to his current plan.

He had used his Tsurani orb to get to Rillanon and found that Oliver’s fleet had departed. After leaving his grandfather, Jim had availed himself of a talented young magician named Donato to transport him back to Rillanon, after a brief meeting with King Carole to cement the alliance between the Isles and Roldem, then returned to dine with his grandfather.

The next morning he had boarded the
Lord Archibald
at first light. Once the ship’s captain read James’s letter of free passage signed by the King of Roldem himself, and bearing the royal seal, ordering any and all to give aid to the bearer, Jim was underway. In less than three days they had overtaken Oliver’s fleet and then began to shadow them. They could see the sails of the trailing ships until they reached Kingdom Isle, where Oliver’s fleet swung around to the north, heading for the coast south of Malac’s Cross, and the
Lord Archibald
swung south, heading for Salador.

Jim, not for the first time, wished the damned orb had more settings, or he could somehow learn the magician’s trick of popping in and out of where they wanted to be, but at least he was arriving in Salador after Bas-Tyra’s army had occupied it. Waiting for the ship to berth, Jim reviewed his plan again.

Oliver would land unopposed, and word would reach him that all was proceeding as planned. The only difference would be that when Oliver marched into Albalyn he would discover that the army he faced was twice the size of the one he anticipated and that no aid would be forthcoming from Silden or Salador.

Still, Jim worried. History was full of battles in which the smaller army was victorious. Oliver’s biggest advantage was that his was an army with a core of battle-hardened Eastern Kingdom soldiers, mean bastards tempered by years of border clashes. Edward’s army comprised mostly westerners, and their primary tasks had been fighting disorganized bandits, goblin bands, or the occasional bar brawl on the frontiers between rival garrisons.

His single greatest concern would be how Arthur of Salador reacted to the news that his city was taken. That bit of theatrics relied on a very stalwart commander named du Gale holding Silden for two weeks, and then Arthur fleeing to the east when hearing of Salador’s fall. Jim’s worst nightmare was Arthur taking Silden before the Roldem ship with the green banner arrived, or returning to Salador at the head of his army, marching right into Oliver’s forces and joining up with them.

The captain gave orders and the ship began losing sail as it hove into sight of the city. Jim would land at Salador and see if Franciezka was safely gone and find out what, if any, news from Silden had reached the garrison. Then he would find a horse and make for the Fields of Albalyn. He had done everything he could and now the players were on their predetermined positions on the board.

He had nothing left but to stand at his king’s side, when Edward was victorious, or to lie dead next to him.

Salador was chaotic, as Jim had expected, but it was the level of chaos that troubled him. He made his way past a company of Roldemish marines who were stationed on the dock to guard their ships, and then looked for some sign of who might be in charge. He saw a squad of soldiers from Bas-Tyra standing at the corner and made his way over to them. A corporal saw him coming, tried to appraise him by his dress and decided a neutral course of action was appropriate.

‘Sir?’ he said in a noncommittal tone.

‘Where is the Duke of Bas-Tyra?’ Jim asked.

‘Departed a few days ago with the bulk of the army.’ The soldier glanced around as if not wanting to be overheard. ‘We sailed in and found about two hundred city watch – most of them conscripts – and some louts up in the duke’s castle trying to be all heroic, and in about four hours we had the city in hand. Not that it’s my place to speak ill of my betters, but my wife and kids could have defended this city with more heart. It’s as if the Duke of Salador had no notion anyone might see an undefended city as an opportunity.’

Jim smiled. ‘I think he had bad intelligence.’

‘Well, I’m not speaking of his intelligence, mind you, him being a duke and all, but seems to me if you’re taking your army somewhere else, best leave enough men behind to make sure you have somewhere to return to, if you take my meaning.’

‘I do. Who’s in charge?’

‘That would be Captain Ronsard. He’s provost of the city and commander of the garrison. He’s over in the barracks.’

‘Thank you, Corporal.’

Jim left the knot of soldiers behind and worked his way through the crowd. The city was simmering just below the level of a full-blown riot. He could smell it on the wind.

No doubt Duke Arthur had left the city with a show of pomp and confidence, brave men in the mustard and crimson of Salador marching off to conquer for the new king. Rumours would be rampant, and those merchants, whores, beggars and thieves who hadn’t followed the army were all salivating over the prospect of a conquering army returning home loaded with booty. Then, a few weeks later, another army sailed into the harbour under cover of night and whatever was left of the local military was easily overcome. One night the citizenry went to bed with the banner of Salador snapping bravely in the breeze, then the next morning they awoke to see the black-and-gold banner of Bas-Tyra overhead. Those that could read found edicts nailed to every corner that the city was now under martial law, imposed by the Duke of Bas-Tyra on behalf of the Crown.

Suddenly goods would become scarce, for whatever Bas-Tyra didn’t confiscate would be hidden away against shortages. People were suddenly frightened, and despite order being maintained, it was maintained under threat of violence from an invading army.