The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (17 page)

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Anaxantis had made it a point to regularly visit the new

encampments of the Amirathan Militia. Clad in the simple uniform

he wore for his daily training and accompanied only by Hemarchidas,

the first impression he gave was all but imposing. When he arrived

many a soldier wondered what this handsome lad was doing at an

army campsite. Some jumped to the wrong conclusion. The different

shades of gray of his clothing were only accentuated by two dashes

of color: his long, golden hair, and the small badge he wore on his

chest with the Amirathan colors, silver and purple. But when the

officers, who knew the lord governor by sight, flocked to him, they

soon made the connection between this blond boy and the warlord-

prince who had brought proud Landemere to its knees and imposed

his will on the unruly Amirathan nobility. They suddenly looked at

him with other eyes altogether.

As he progressed through the camp, surrounded by officers in

their rich garments, it was clear to everybody that it was with the

young man, simply dressed in subdued gray that somehow managed

to outshine the colorful uniforms, that the real power lay.

He mingled with the new recruits, listened to their worries as

well as to their boasting, and spoke encouraging words in a tone that

sounded more self assured than he felt. He ate and drank with them

at midday and used the same cheap tin utensils they did. He cursed,

just as they did, when he saw his meat was burned on one side, and

he drank his wine with as much gusto as them. After less than half an

hour most of them would have sworn he had been born and raised a

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Northern. He was one of them.

Sometimes he singled a particular soldier out and asked him

about his wife and children, his hopes and regrets. Was he afraid?

Did he have confidence in his officers? Did he feel that he was

being prepared adequately for the coming confrontation? Was his

equipment to par?

He also spoke with them in little groups. He asked where they

came from and if they were from the same village. Once, when one

of them passed along a beaker with warm, spicy wine, the man who

stood next to him was embarrassed because they had no clean mug

for the lord governor. Anaxantis shrugged, smiled, and without the

least hesitation took a swig from the one out of which half a dozen

men had drunk before him. When he passed it on, wiping his mouth

with the back of his free hand, the next man almost dropped it.

When one soldier timidly asked him if the north wasn’t but a dull

and miserable place for a royal prince to rule, he said that there were

three princes and a high king of Ximerion but only one warlord of

Amiratha and that he’d rather be the first here than the fourth there.

His answer went around the barracks and tents. Not only had they

adopted him, now they knew that he had adopted them as well.

He took care that not only the officers, but as many men as

possible heard from his own lips that every precaution was being

taken to minimalize casualties in the coming battle. The cornerstone

was good training and strict obedience, without panicking, to the

orders of their officers. They were better equipped, he stated again

and again, they would be better trained, and the leadership of the

army would be better informed than the barbarians. He himself would

reconnoiter the Renuvian Plains to seek out the most advantageous

battlefields. A famous doctor was organizing a whole group of his

colleagues and women with medical experience to take care of the

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wounded. Nobody would be left behind. Nobody would go uncared

for. As far as he was concerned his men were the most precious asset

of the army, and he would be parsimonious, stingy with their lives.

One militia man asked him what they would do if, despite all his

obvious preparation and precautions, the enemy would prove too

strong for them. He had looked the man in the eyes and had softly

answered: “Ha, that, my friend, is when we stand and die.”

When he was gone the men talked for hours about his visit. They

concluded that the king had been very generous to send the most

capable of his sons to the northern frontier to lead the defense in

person. It must have been a hard decision, they agreed, because the

situation in the south was even more dangerous, and the king must

have been sorely tempted to keep the prince at his side.

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Late in the afternoon Anaxantis was back at Lorseth Castle. When

he entered the tower he saw Rahendo, seated at a little table near

the door of the hallway to the war room, scribbling away on some

parchments.

“Any messages, Radyamirodyahendo?” he asked.

“No, my lord, but you had a visitor,” Rahendo said, as if that were

the worst possible news and dire consequences were bound to

ensue. “He went away when I told him you weren’t here.” He sighed.

“He will return though.”

“Did he say his name?”

“No, my lord, and he was so weird I forgot to ask. I’m sorry,”

Rahendo said, as though the weight of his shortcomings would soon

get the better of him.

“
You
thought he was weird?” Anaxantis said thoughtfully. “Wow.

Anyway, since he will return it doesn’t matter too much, I guess.

What are you writing so diligently?”

Rahendo looked shiftily around.

“Who?” he asked.

“You, little man.”

“Where?”

“There, at your table.”

“What?”

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“That parchment.”

“Oh, that,” Rahendo said nervously. “That’s nothing. Just some

notes for when next I write to my sisters. So I don’t forget… things.”

“Ah, I see,” Anaxantis said.

At that moment an irritated voice from the main entrance could

be heard.

“Appointment? Appointment? Fiddlesticks. I’m his doctor. Of

course I haven’t got an appointment. When you bump your silly head

into something that’s even thicker than your skull and you come for

help to me, I’ll ask whether you have an appointment.”

“It’s all right, Belmo, let him through,” Anaxantis yelled.

From where they stood they could clearly see Murno Tollbir

sticking his tongue out at Belmo of Yondar.

“See, I said he was weird,” Rahendo said sadly, raking his five

ringed hand through his hair.

“Doctor, good to see you. Please come right through. You know

the way.”

Anaxantis hastened to the war room, before the doctor had any

chance to impound his chair.

“What a weird kid,” Murno said, when he had closed the door

behind him and planted himself on the nearest available chair. “Still,

I suppose it’s very nice of you. It goes to show that even the mentally

challenged can be given semi useful jobs. Good for their dignity and

general well being.”

“Eh, it’s lovely to see you, but is there any particular reason for

your visit?”

“Of course. Two in fact. One: I’ve got the little item you asked

me for. Two: The organization of the medical unit we discussed isn’t

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going too well. Well, one part is going all right, though it drives me

mad, but the other part is a disaster, which is driving me mad. The

vultures just won’t budge.”

He blinked at Anaxantis and scratched his beard.

“I truly, truly wish I knew what you are talking about.”

“Let’s begin with the good news. Threndll — you remember my

housekeeper with, eh, benefits — and I have managed to rally quite

a sizable group of local women. Just in time, because the right herbs

will be starting to grow soon. They need to be harvested in the woods

and fields around Dermolhea, washed, dried, and prepared. We first

taught some twenty of them how to care for very sick and wounded

people, applying bandages, salves, splints, shushing them and so on,

and now they are teaching that to groups all over the city and the

neighboring villages. That’s going fine. Except there are far too many

women in my house. Driving me nuts, they are. Did you know that

four women together can make the noise of about eleven? That’s my

estimate anyway. With five women you would expect the noise of

about fourteen, wouldn’t you, being the fine mathematician you are?

Actually, it’s nearer sixteen. The racket grows exponentially and—”

“Very interesting, but what is it that’s not going as you would like

it to?”

“Ah, yes, the vultures. My dear colleagues. I thought my brethren

in the noble profession of healing would be glad to do their part in

the coming war. Not, as it became fairly quickly apparent when I

started asking around. They came up with all kinds of excuses, and

those were the polite ones. Never had so many doors slammed in my

face. One young sapling of about fifty even had the gall to tell me he

felt too old. Can you believe it?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

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“Commandeer them into the Militia. That would amuse me

greatly. Just round them up and drag them into a boot camp of some

sort. Tell me where, so I can go look at them and laugh my ass off. Go

on, humor me.”

“I don’t know if your amusement is sufficient legal basis for—”

“Fiddlesticks. You are the warlord. You can commandeer anything

and anyone for the defense of the province. Make them suffer for a

week and then offer them a choice.”

Anaxantis couldn’t help laughing.

“I like your little plan. Very well, I will see to it. I think that in

about ten days you will have a lot of doctors willing, even begging

you to allow them to help you.”

Murno nodded, satisfied. Out of a large shoulder bag he had been

carrying he took a small wooden box. In it was a cloth on which lay

three small, tube-like golden objects.

“Are those what I think they are?” Anaxantis asked.

“Yes, they are. It took some doing, you know. Several problems

at once. They couldn’t be too big, yet they had to be big enough

to contain an effective amount of, eh, liquid. They couldn’t be too

strong, yet they had to be able to withstand some handling without

starting to leak. Luckily my friend the goldsmith was prepared to

help me. We tested different qualities of silver and gold and finally

settled upon this.”

He pointed at the little golden capsules.

“You tested them?”

“Yes. People seem to think that I can cure anything. So, I have this

old patient — have known him for decades — who always brings

his dog. The man has never been sick in his life, but he wants me

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to check up both him and his dog regularly. He seems to think that

basically it is all the same, dogs and humans. Who knows? He could

be right. I just went along with it and over the years I actually learned

some things about beasts, go figure. So a week ago he came to see me

because his dog couldn’t stand on his paws anymore. Nothing wrong

with the animal, except it was old. Too old. It was obviously suffering

and he asked me if I could do anything for his friend. I had to tell him

I couldn’t cure old age. Not yet. He hated seeing the poor animal in

pain and asked if I knew of a kind way to make it go to sleep forever.

Which, in fact, I did.”

He blinked.

“So, after they had said their goodbyes and I had assured him his

friend wouldn’t feel a thing, I took one of the capsules and clenched it

between the animal’s teeth and pressed its jaws together. Poof. Gone.

No pain. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Anaxantis hesitantly rolled one of the golden capsules between

his thumb and his index finger.

“Since you explained under what circumstances you would be

tempted to use it, I thought it best to make them small enough so you

could hide them on your person. Go on. Put one in your mouth. Gold

is non toxic. Now move it between your teeth and your cheek. Push