Prince of Wrath (48 page)

“So it seems, Argan, yes. But how do you know how to speak that language? Mr. Sen has not taught you, has he?”

“No,” Argan shook his head. “I don’t know how I know their language. I just do.”

Isbel decided not to pursue the matter for the time being; she had her suspicions but how could that be proved? She looked up at the sky; it was beginning to darken. Night would soon be upon them. “Where shall we stop?”

“The entrance to the mountains, ma’am,” Panat breathed. “That’s Bakranian territory and the Bragalese won’t go there – too dangerous for them.”

“And us?”

“I don’t think so. The Bakranians should honour your husband’s treaty. I must admit I was shocked when the attack came back there – I honestly thought they were Bakranian, until they spoke. They’re using Bakranian arrows, which is a concern; clearly they’re trying to fool us into thinking the Bakranians are behind any attacks they make. I should have thought that their archery was poor for the mountain men; they’re much better than those idiots.”

“One of the soldiers was hurt,” Isbel said. “I hope he’s not too badly wounded.”

“His colleagues will see to him.”

Argan stirred. “Panat.”

“Yes, Prince Argan?”

“Will you teach me how to fight like you just did?”

“Of course; as long as you listen properly, you will learn. My job is to make sure you know how to fight properly. You will be able to not only save yourself if you can, but those amongst your family and friends who cannot fight.”

“And me, father?” Kerrin said, snuggled into his hero.

“And you, Kerrin, yes.”

Isbel smiled, then concentrated on holding her son tight, as much as a comfort to herself than anything else. They rumbled on, the drovers urging the best speed from the tired beasts, but soon it became too dark to see properly and reluctantly they called a halt. There was a wide clearing in which they arranged a rough triangle with the wagons, and the beasts were once again unhitched.

The injured soldier was checked but he was in a poor way. He had lost a lot of blood and the arrow head was still in his ribs. The other guards nervously paced about, looking into the night. Isbel fussed about with Argan, then looked at the exhausted Panat. “Do you think they’ll come after us?”

“Possible, ma’am. Now they know who you are – you would be worth more to them as ransom. I doubt you’d be killed, nor Prince Argan here. That probably explained why they didn’t loose at us for fear of hitting you.” He paused, wheezing. “I’m sorry but today’s exertions has used up my poor reserves of energy. I shall have to sleep in order to function tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Go and prepare your bed. I’ll get the cook to serve you supper.”

The sergeant came wandering up, concern etched across his features. He bowed. “Ma’am, we’re extremely vulnerable here. I can’t guarantee we’ll be safe from attack in this spot. We really need to be up in the foothills of the mountains ahead of us.”

“The beasts are tired; Panat cannot go on another step. Your colleague is extremely ill; we must rest, whatever the consequences. Just do your best, Sergeant.”

“Ma’am,” he bowed and backed away, his eyes full of worry.

“Mother,” Argan said, “will we be taken prisoner if they catch us again?”

“It would seem like it, yes.”

“And the others? They would be killed, yes? So why don’t we make them think we’ve gone away?”

“What do you mean, Argan? Gone away?”

Argan looked round. “Those nasty men want us, so if we’re not here they can’t have us.”

“But, Argan, we cannot carry on; you heard me tell the Sergeant.”

“We let them have the wagons and beasts; they would be happy with them, wouldn’t they? While they have the wagons and beasts, and….and….all this equipment stuff, we can get away into the mountains and be looked after by the Bakranians!”

Isbel stared at her son. “Argan – you’re not thinking of the trouble and efforts…..”

“Ma’am, begging your pardon,” Panat interrupted.

“Go on, Panat,” Isbel said, piqued.

“But that is a brilliant plan.” The old campaigner levered himself up, his breath rasping hard. Argan beamed a wide smile. “We go on, press forward. The Bragalese will waste time here looting, while we will be able to press on along the road. We must have a watch or two’s head start on them. If we set off now, we can get into the mountains before they catch us. Then we’ll be in Bakranian land.”

“But – but you’re too bad to carry on, and the injured soldier!”

“Carry us; the men can make stretchers, and the blankets can go to make the material. Plenty of wood in the wagons. Let the beasts loose – it’ll waste more of their time catching the damned things.”

Isbel stood up, torn between feeling immense pride for her son and fearing the risks of the hazardous plan that had been suggested. “Sergeant!” she snapped suddenly. No time to tarry; they had to act fast and keep ahead of the Bragalese brigands.

Vosgaris greeted his father and sister in the courtyard that was overlooked by the castle. His father was a tall, grey-haired man with sun-tanned skin and a ready smile. A myriad of wrinkles creased his skin from the corners of his eyes. In contrast his sister was short, fair skinned and plain looking with large grey eyes. Very much like their mother in fact.

“Well, Vosgaris,” his father began, clapping his hands and looking about, “not a bad job here, I can tell you! Very pleased this nonsense has been brought to an end. Cuts about ten days off my journeys to and from Rhan, being able to travel via Zofela. How are you, lad? You’ve filled out a bit since we last talked. You being treated fairly?”

He shook hands with his father and kissed his sister lightly on the cheek. “Yes father, I’m doing well thank you. Captain of the Guard is a good job.”

“Hmmm, but you could earn far more in a better paid job, a much higher profile post. Why not ask for governor of Pelponia? Its vacant, and you’re a noble, trusted by the Koros.”

“I’m much happier here, father, and am close to the imperial family. Pelponia? That’s way out east, and on the edge of the empire. It’s a backwater. I’m going to be noticed much more here in the Court than in some far-off castle in the mountains.” He forestalled any reply his father might make by taking him by the arm and pointing out the building site opposite the entrance to the castle on the other wide of the square. “Look, the Emperor is already making Zofela a place that’s going to be hard to crack.”

“Not a market place, then,” his father sounded disappointed.

Vosgaris chuckled. “No, father. A mustering hall. The garrison is going to be housed here rather than in the castle. He wants more guest space and getting the soldiers out of the castle is his first step.”

The older Taboz family man looked disapprovingly at the piles of timber, stone and mud. His sister, Vasila, had remained suspiciously quiet, and Vosgaris gave her a quick glance but she seemed interested in the castle and square. People were walking past, engaged in conversation, or hurrying from one place to another. The trade caravan, made up of twenty beasts burdened with goods from Kral and Riliyan, stood in a line near the square. “Well,” the older man sighed, “must get these animals fed and unhitched. I understand there’s a stables down the road by the Frasian Gate. I’ll join you two for dinner once I’ve seen to them. We’re staying in the tavern here, the one over at the far end of the square.”

“Oh, the Landwaster. Couldn’t you get rooms in the castle?”

“Landwaster?” Vasila asked, speaking for the first time. “What an odd name!”

“Popular decision, Vasila; the people round here refer to the Emperor as that. Sort of backhanded compliment, naming the main tavern in town after him. Used to be called the Throat Cutter or something like that under the Bragalese, again, so I’m told, referring to the Emperor but not in such a complimentary manner.”

“Ugh, that’s horrid,” Vasila wrinkled her nose. “So, brother,” she put her arm in his and tugged him along the road towards the castle entrance, “tell me about your life. How is it really? Mother was so disappointed you turned down her offer to hold you last birthday celebration at home. She had guests lined up, too.”

“Fulime amongst them, no doubt,” Vosgaris grimaced.

“Well, now you mention it,” Vasila teased, “I believe mother had invited her. So you’re not interested in the eligible Fulime. Any reason why? Someone else, perhaps?”

Vosgaris cleared his throat. “I’m not courting anyone, Vasila. So, how did you find Rhan?” he asked as they passed into the castle and stepped to one side as a squad of soldiers came marching out from the main yard in unison, spears pointing wickedly in the night air.

“Dirty. Full of soldiers. The place is crazy. The merchants are selling all sorts of things there, mostly army stuff. I found it all tiresome.”

Vosgaris looked thoughtful. They walked slowly around the edge of the huge courtyard where the majority of the buildings stood; the stables, blacksmith, barracks and feasting hall for the soldiers. Within the castle keep itself were other chambers but only for the use of the nobility and court. “Plenty of war ordnance there, then. Looks like they’re building up for a war somewhere. Didn’t hear any rumours, did you by any chance?”

“No – I was too bored to listen to their talk,” Vasila said. “Training for this, marching to there and back, who’s commanding whom. Oh it’s all so tedious. Their god this and their god that, how awful!”

“God? They were speaking of their god, were they? I suppose they would be if they’re whipping the soldiery up about the righteousness of their mission to end our gods. Shame the place doesn’t go up in smoke.”

Vasila giggled. “That would be a lovely sight to behold.” She leaned closer to her brother. “Remember the old wood shed in the grounds back home?”

“Yes, I remember that all too well. You’re a menace with fire.” Vasila had been responsible for a couple of fires in her childhood. Vosgaris looked sideways at her. “The Emperor is seriously considering sending the whole lot up in flames; we’re worried they’re stockpiling it all to invade Kastania in a year or so. We need to delay them. He’ll be interested in hearing from you as to where these arms and equipment are being stored. I think he’s considering sending someone in to do a decent job.”

“You mean I can meet Astiras Koros?” she was excited.

“I think he’ll be pleased to meet you. It’ll have to be clandestine though; you know how father disapproves of war; he’s a merchant through and through. He’ll object to you giving information that could lead to the destruction of marketable items,” Vosgaris ended with contempt in his voice.

“Oh, don’t be too harsh on him; he just doesn’t see beyond his narrow world. You know how he is. He’s still disappointed you chose a military career instead of a political one.”

Vosgaris made a rude noise. “I’d be bored mindless governing a place like Pelponia – or why not Zipria? No, I’m happy doing this job.”

“He’d be happier if you found a woman, Vos.”

“Or you a man?”

Vasila laughed. “Who’d want a plain-looking frump like me? Anyway, I’m much happier playing at being a boy; you know that!”

“Bored again being back in Kastania?”

Vasila nodded. “It was exciting going to a new place, but father’s fixation with trade spoiled it; I so wanted to see more of Rhan, but we had to conduct business deals the moment we were there, and then once we’d paid for the goods and received them, we were off again! Pah.”

“Well, sis, what about sneaking back there, disguised as a man, finding your way round the town, locating the arms and equipment, and then setting fire to the lot before getting away?”

“Oh, if only! I’d jump at the chance!”

Vosgaris grinned. “I think I love you, sis,” and he kissed her on the cheek. Vasila giggled and the two made their way back out of the castle towards the tavern as the stars twinkled in the night sky.

Later that evening after dinner, Vosgaris returned to the castle and found his way to his office. Alenna had finished for the day and had gone to her room, but he checked through what had been done with a cursory eye. Seeing nothing amiss he threw the parchments back onto the table and wandered through the passageways, nodding to the guards on their rounds. Nothing was untoward, which was how it should be. He stopped by one of the long narrow slits that looked out over the Bragalese countryside and breathed in deeply for a moment. He felt comfortable with his post. He’d got through a difficult couple of years and had now settled down into his duties. The imperial couple had come to recognise his usefulness and efficiency, and accepted him as part of the household. The added benefits were clear, plus the fact he had enjoyed Amne’s body; at the thought of her he smiled to himself. Vasila would be scandalised if she knew he had made love to the princess, more so now she was married. He looked forward to seeing Amne again and hoped she wouldn’t be too long in finding an excuse to visit.

Time was passing so he carried on round to the imperial quarters. The two guards assured him nobody was within except for those who were supposed to be there. Vosgaris passed through the two doors that were spaced five paces apart for added security, waved the two guards on the other side to relax, and walked up to Pepil, studiously scribbling onto a sheet of parchment. “Evening, Major Domo,” he said neutrally, “late work?”

Pepil looked up irritably. “Yes, and if I’m interrupted it’ll take longer.”

Vosgaris grinned. “The Emperor free?”

“Yes but I doubt he’ll wish to be disturbed.”

“I have something important to speak to him about. It can’t wait.”

Pepil sighed deeply and placed his quill in the ink pot. “Very well. It is something I need to be involved with?”

“Foreign affairs, Pepil.”

The Courtier pulled a face and knocked on the Emperor’s chamber door. He got a gruff reply and opened the door inwards. “Captain Vosgaris – a matter of some import, sire.”

“Very well, come in Captain. Not bad news, I trust?”

Vosgaris brushed past Pepil who shut the door behind him and stood before the tired looking Emperor. “No sire, but I may have a volunteer to destroy the Venn military ordnance in Rhan.”

“Have you, by the gods? Who?”

Vosgaris told him. Astiras objected, and Vosgaris had to spend a long time persuading him, stating how well he knew her and how she was very good at hiding her femininity. Also she was good at starting fires and had been to Rhan and seen for herself the stockpiling of weapons. There was nobody else around who had all those attributes or skills. Finally, too tired to argue any longer, Astiras threw up his arms in surrender. “Oh, all right! You can organise your sister, damn you. Teduskis! In here.”

The old retainer came in, rubbing his eyes. He was finding things a little harder these days, but he was still valued by his master. He was appraised of the plan. He was surprised but bowed when ordered to arrange a route through eastern Bragal to the Kral frontier. It would need a military clearance close to the frontier to allow Vasila to pass, and that was Teduskis’ remit. “Make sure nobody sees our agent passing through,” the emperor said to Teduskis. “We don’t know how many people in eastern Bragal are unhappy with our victory, and may have sympathies to Venn.”

“Venn hate the Bragalese with a passion,” Teduskis observed.

“You know that; I know that. But do the Bragalese know that? I doubt it. Their attitude could well be that an enemy of an enemy is logically a friend. The damned fools have no idea that everyone hates their guts and that no matter who controls the land around their little part of the world, they will never be an independent people.”

Vosgaris looked surprised. “Is that true, sire?”

Astiras nodded. He looked up at Teduskis. “Tell him what your outriders found last sevenday.”

Teduskis drew is a deep breath. “This is to be kept a secret, but one of my patrols went south to the Ister, a reconnaissance of the area. We’re told that rebels are still active in that part of the province but so far we’ve not found any evidence. Anyway, there were a few burned villages and the entire population had been nailed up to trees and left to die slowly in the sun. Our men managed to save about fifteen.”

Vosgaris looked aghast. “What – who, was behind that?”

“Mazag militiamen, carrying out an enthusiastic policy of pacification. They seem to think it’s a condition of our alliance that they can ride into Bragal to hunt down brigands and raiders. It seems they chased a few – criminal elements – back over the border from Mazag and put the entire village to the torch and hung up those responsible for the raid plus everyone else in the village. Women, children, the lot.” Astiras slammed his hand down on the tabletop. “If anyone is to carry out a massacre then it’s me! Blasted Mazag, shows you what we’re dealing with here.”

“But-but haven’t you protested, sire?” Vosgaris looked from Teduskis to Astiras.

Astiras snorted and leaned back, scratching his stomach. “They genuinely think they’re helping us, so why would I protest? I’m caught by my own policies here, blast their eyes.” He waved his hands helplessly over the table top. “I cannot make any formal complaint as it might cause a strain in our alliance and I need Mazag more now than ever, especially now we’re going to try to burn down Venn’s military supply depot. With Mazag behind us Venn won’t be so ready to accuse us or threaten us.”

Vosgaris rubbed his chin. “So what is to be done?”

“Nothing.” Astiras suddenly grinned. “In fact the Mazag might have done us all a favour. I’ve arranged for Teduskis to rehouse the survivors in other Bragal villages in the area – and they’ll spread the word of Mazag atrocities. You know how words become exaggerated with each retelling. Anyway, the Bragalese will now see Mazag as the evil neighbours and not us. Teduskis’ men were very sympathetic and gave the survivors food, water and clothes – oh, they had been stripped naked prior to being nailed up and raped, the men as well as the women.”

Teduskis nodded. “We told them Landwaster was enraged and would hunt down those responsible. The Bragal people were his now and not to be attacked by the Mazag. I did tell the men to warn the Bragalese not to cross over into Mazag, though, as that would certainly cause another counter-raid.”

“Do you think the Bragal will listen to you?”