The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (56 page)

“Would killing an autarch count in that respect?” Anaxantis

smiled.

Lethoras grinned.

“There’s that. I forgot for a moment. All right. We’ll treat them

with kid gloves. If only so as not to get scratched ourselves.”

“Good. I expect to leave in about two hours, that is, if you can

manage—”

“Yeah, look. Here is what will happen. You will take a long hot bath,

which I will order the servants to prepare here in my room. Then

you are going to lie in my bed and sleep for a few hours. Meanwhile

I’ll collect the Clansmen and tell them to get ready. That should take

about four hours. Then we’ll go.”

“Hey. What do you mean
‘we’
?”

“You didn’t think I would let you go all on your own, did you?”

“Oh, Lethoras, don’t fuss. You prepared me well. Aren’t you

needed here?”

“The place practically runs itself, and I drilled my officers. While

I’m not doubting your swordsmanship, you’re far from perfect. You

still keep exposing your left flank far too often. Oh, and I just want in

on the fun. As for you, you have to rest, if only for an hour or so.”

“Why does everybody keep thinking they’re my mother, that’s

what I want to know,” Anaxantis said with a sigh. Then he smiled.

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“But I suppose I could use a bath. I smell like ass.”

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439

While servants were hauling buckets of cold and hot water to

Lethoras’s room, Anaxantis decided to use the time to bring Timishi

up to speed and tell him he would be going to Lorseth under escort.

A very respectful escort.

“But you’re Mukthars,” he heard a panicking voice say when he

was almost at the room where he had left them.

“Correction. We are
hungry
Mukthars. So hand over the food or

else...”

That was clearly Timishi having a good time, Anaxantis thought.

He heard several plates being dropped, rather than placed, on the

table. Three servants came running out of the room.

“There’s Mukthars in there, my lord, take care,” one of them

shouted at him while hastily making for the stairs.

“I know,” he mumbled.

When he entered the room he was greeted by the sight of eight

young Mukthars attacking plates laden with food as if they were

mortal enemies.

“What do you suppose those are, Shermy?” one of them asked.

“Vegetables. That stuff your mother wanted you to eat, that

is, when you still had a mother,” the one called Shermy answered,

ripping off a piece of meat from a plate.

“Can’t be. They’re
green
and
cooked
.”

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He demonstrated that fact by taking a handful of vegetables off

the plate and squishing them.

“Those red bits could have been carrots once,” Shermy said, his

mouth full, fat dripping from his chin.

“What good are they like that?” the other wondered. “They’ve

washed all the sand of them. How are they supposed to grate the

stomach?”

Shermy shrugged.

“Ximerionians are weak and effeminate. Maybe they can’t bite

through real carrots. Turn the bowel upside down on the table.

Maybe there’s meat at the bottom.”

“I think it’s just for decoration,” a third one said. “Just leave them

be.”

Further down the table Rodomesh was studying a meat pie.

“How is one supposed to eat this?” he asked.

“Simple,” Timishi said. He cut the meat pie in two halves with his

dagger, and took one half, holding the open side up. “See, now you

can get at the meat.” He demonstrated what he meant by fishing a

piece, dripping with sauce, out of it with two fingers.

“How quaint,” Rodomesh said, taking the other half. “The box

seems made out of some kind of bread.” He pried a small piece of the

crust loose, put it in his mouth and almost immediately spat it back

out again. “Very bad bread, too. I don’t believe this was made with

calf’s blood. Must be an apprentice cook.”

“Or they’re out of calves.” Timishi said. “Hey, Lushorm,” he

shouted, “don’t be such a pig, man. We’re guests here. Don’t throw

your offal everywhere on the floor.” He pointed to a corner. “Throw it

there, like everybody else.”

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441

“Not bad,” a smallish Mukthar grunted, having taken a bite out

of a chicken breast and throwing it back on the plate. “Not charred

though.”

“No,” another agreed, “it’s a pity. The meat is overcooked and

they left out the bitter herbs. They forgot the tasty stuff. Nothing to

gnaw at either. It just falls from the bone.”

Anaxantis was still taking in the culinary ravage when Timishi

noticed him.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction,” Anaxantis asked after

he had gone over to him.

“I’ll give you some pointers when we’re underway again, but,

yeah, your people have obviously done their best. Not their fault.”

He wiped his hands on his tunic.

“There’s a stack of towels there, and a basin with scented water,

if you want to wash your hands.”

Timishi grinned and shrugged.

“And waste good animal fat? How do
you
keep your tunic

impermeable to wind and rain? Besides, it smells nice. It may surprise

you, but we Mukthars appreciate refinement. Manly refinement.”

“Yes, I see,” Anaxantis said, a doubtful look on his face. “Anyway, I

wanted to talk to you.”

Slinging his arm around Timishi’s shoulder, he guided him away

from the table. Rodomesh followed them like a shadow.

“By now you will have understood that something serious has

come up,” he said, having decided to ignore Rodomesh’s presence,

“and I have to—”

“Ha, there you are,” Lethoras said, entering the room and almost

slipping on a chicken wing. “Your bath is ready.”

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“Yes, I was just informing prince Timishi of the situation.”

Rodomesh sniffed at Lethoras.

“Who the fuck are you?” the general said, pulling away from the

inquisitive Mukthar.

“He smells the same as Emarshidash,” Rodomesh said to Timishi,

completely ignoring Lethoras. “I bet he is also from that tribe of

stable boys.”

“I’m a Cheridonian, you insolent carrot top, and we’re not stable

boys. We breed horses. The finest in the world, in fact.”

“That’s true,” Timishi said. “I noticed Anashantish rides a

fourblood. Never saw a horse treat its rider so gently and forgiving.”

“Forgiving? What do you mean?” Anaxantis asked, piqued.

“Oh, he means that Cheridonian horses are bred and trained to be

able to compensate for the fumblings of inexperienced riders. Very

astute, Mukthar. Never mind, how does that one know Hemarchidas?”

“Because he tried to get in my pants, that’s how,” Rodomesh bit

at Lethoras. “And next time you better call my prince ‘your highness.’

I’m sure you know what a gelding is.”

“Excuse my hot blooded friend,” Timishi said, and grinned.

“Rodomesh, isn’t that whole getting-in-your-pants-thing a tiny

exaggeration?”

“Maybe. Ever so tiny though. You heard him.”

“Yes, I seem to remember him saying something like ‘Don’t you

dare lay your greasy paws on me, you pale-faced, freckled red animal.’

And I make it sound nicer than it was.”

“That’s nothing. Remember how Shishka sneaked up on Shermy

one day and pulled his pants down. One moment he was orating

how he would take terrible and bloody revenge on anybody who

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443

challenged his honor. The next moment he stood there in his bare

ass, his little shlong all shriveled from the cold wind. Ha. We almost

pissed ourselves.”

Both Mukthars broke out in a raucous laughter at this happy

memory.

“Listen guys,” Lethoras tried to intervene, “we don’t have forever

and—”

“Quiet, horsey,” Rodomesh said without looking at him. “The

point is, Timishi, that she did it because she liked him. An hour later

she was sucking his face. That’s girls for you. And Ximerionians are

degenerate. The whole world knows that. Oh yes, he wants me. He

wants me bad. In fact, I have half a mind to challenge him to the

mravinshinohr.”

He crossed his arms, judging that he had amply made his point.

“Yes, guys, what I wanted to say,” Anaxantis tried to steer the

conversation to the matter at hand again, “is that something serious

has come up that requires my personal attention. So, to my regret I

won’t be—”

“Really, something came up?” Timishi mocked. “Who would have

thought? So, that wasn’t a race purely for pleasure in which you

almost broke your neck?”

“I did not,” Anaxantis, who had enough of all the doubts cast

upon his horsemanship, replied curtly. “Besides, that’s not the point.

I won’t be able to accompany you to Lorseth. I’ll arrange for an escort

to—”

“See, what did I tell you, Timishi?” Rodomesh said. “They’re

treacherous to a man, those yellow bellied Ximerionians. He’s leaving

us, and then his henchmen will murder us in our sleep, or they will

fall upon us with three hundred soldiers on a deserted stretch of

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road.”

Timishi smiled reassuringly at his friend. He wasn’t smiling

anymore when he turned to Anaxantis.

“Tell me what happened, Anashantish,” he said, his voice calm bit

earnest.

“It’s a purely, eh, personal business and I would like to—”

“Hope I am not interrupting anything,” a new voice interrupted

him. “They told me you were here, ‘among the wild beasts’, as they

called them.”

“Ha yes, my lord of Brenx, please join us, why don’t you,” Anaxantis

grumbled. “And would everybody keep quiet while I’m talking?” As

an afterthought he added “You just got here, Brenx?”

“Ah, yeah. The horse was tired. Had to slow down.”

“And stop, actually. Lucky for me and my behind, I still have a good

supply of Yonnick’s magic salve.”

“We’ll come with you,” Timishi said. “We’re your guests. You can’t

deliver us into the hands of strangers.”

“But they’re not strangers. They’re my men. I am the lord governor

here. A little fact everybody seems to have conveniently forgotten.”

“We only gave our word to you,” Timishi said. “Besides, I smell

danger.”

“That’s precisely why I don’t want you—”

“Aha,” Timishi cried out triumphantly. “I knew it. Well, that makes

it final. We’re coming. We Mukthars defend our hosts. We can’t let

you go into danger alone. Mukthar honor forbids it.”

“Yeah, right. And Zardok himself will serve us sweet raisin

cookies,” Lethoras scoffed.

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445

Anaxantis was visibly concentrating.

“Actually, Lethoras, maybe it is not such a bad—”

“Come on, Anaxantis, you can’t be serious. You’re planning to

take those... those Mukthars on a dangerous, sensitive mission?”

“Well, you yourself said there were only forty Clansmen around.

So, eight extra swords—”

“Nine,” Rullio intervened.

“Will everybody stop interrupting me. I’m the lord governor,

damn it,” Anaxantis shouted.

Both Lethoras and Rullio mumbled some excuse.

“Mukthars, Anaxantis? Mukthars?” Lethoras protested unhappily.

“Yes, I know they’re Mukthars, Lethoras. Thanks to my keen

eyesight. And they’re coming. So are you, my lord of Brenx.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you stroll around Lorseth on your

own.”

“Ha. Eat
that
, horse dung shoveler,” Rodomesh said, making an

obscene gesture.

“Rodomesh, be quiet,” Timishi said sharply.

“Not a word, not a
single
word, Lethoras,” Anaxantis growled

threateningly.

“Good, I’m not planning on leaving you out of my eyesight if I can

help it,”
Rullio thought.

“That’s settled then. Excellent. I’m off for my bath and a few hours

of rest. We’ll leave by midday. Maybe you and your friends should