The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (12 page)

In his excitement he had exhausted himself. Still everybody looked at him, wondering what he was talking about.

“The man I saw in Mirkadesh, crossing the square. The one I thought I saw before, but couldn't quite remember. It was him. The robber chief. Scarminckle.”

Nobody knew exactly what to say.

“You're sure?” Anaxantis asked.

“Positive. What was he doing there, I wonder?”

“Yes, very strange, you would think a robber chief would be a lot more circumspect... Of course, he wasn't exactly expecting us... He was crossing the square, you say?”

“Yes. No idea where he could have come from though. He could hardly have been a guest of honor of the Assembly of Elders.”

Anaxantis frowned.

“On the contrary,” he said, “I expect he was just that. Could it be...”

Deep in thought he had let the sentence die out.

“What, Anaxantis?” Hemarchidas said irritatedly. “Be clear for once.”

“Think,” Anaxantis said. “When we entered Mirkadesh we saw immediately that the place was well kept.

They are richer than they want anybody to know. Everything points to it. Well kept roads. Houses in excellent condition. In fact, we're sure they have a surplus, a hidden surplus. You yourself made us as good as certain of that, Marak. At first I thought they wanted to hide the fact that they were hoarding money, because I suspected that they simply wanted to avoid paying their part for the defense of the Northern Marches. Now I'm not so sure anymore.”

“So?” Hemarchidas said, raising his arms in a frustrated gesture.

“So...,” Anaxantis said slowly as if still forming his thoughts, “so, what if the populace of Mirkadesh and the Renuvian Plain robbers are one and the same? What if their hidden source of wealth is their extortion contracts with the great Dermolhean merchant families?”

They all looked at each other, astonished.

“The whole county?” Bortram asked, unbelief in his voice.

Anaxantis nodded.

“Damn. I should have found out about that long ago,” Lethoras groaned.

“No, how could you have found out?” the prince said, smiling at his friend. “They hoodwinked all of us.

They're probably at it for several generations. My guess is from shortly after the last count bequeathed the county to the inhabitants. By now they must learn to dissimulate before they can walk. After all, their livelihood depends upon it.”

It took a while before all had digested Marak's revelation.

Anaxantis guided the conversation back to the preparations for the coming war, and for about three hours the talk was exclusively about troop movements, arms requisitioning and training maneuvers. At last most of them left until the prince was left alone with Hemarchidas.

“When are you going to join the army?”

“As late as possible,” Anaxantis answered. “In fact, I won't be leaving Lorseth until the Mukthars are spotted emerging from one of the passes.”

“Isn't that leaving things until the last moment?”

“Maybe. But I don't want to leave the place in the hands of Tarngord. Besides, the sentries I'm sending out to watch the passes should give us ample time to join the main army.”

He was annoyed with himself. He knew his decision to remain as long as possible in Lorseth had nothing to do with any military rationale whatsoever.

Rahendo knocked and entered the war room.

“That will be them,” Anaxantis said to Hemarchidas.

“The two captains you were expecting are here,” the page announced.

“Show them in.”

Dtain Duinig and Smorgann Ulck were two clansmen, recently promoted to captain by the prince. It was the first time they saw the place where he had made his headquarters and they were duly impressed.

“Smorgann, Dtain, please, sit down,” Anaxantis said amiably. “This is your last briefing before you leave for your posts tomorrow,” he continued, after they had done so. “I just want to make sure you understand fully what your mission is and how important, vital even, it is.”

“I think we understand all too well,” Smorgann answered with a confident smile.

Both men were in their mid twenties and were handpicked by Hemarchidas to join the clan because of their reputation of undying loyalty. They also were excellent soldiers.

“A little detail maybe, but there seems to have been made a mistake in the distribution of the carrier pigeons.

We have got ten while Smorgann's outfit only has six,” Dtain remarked casually.

“No mistake has been made,” Anaxantis said. “Smorgann is going to the Urtdam-Dek pass. Frankly, I think the possibility is remote the Mukthars will be entering the Plains that way. So it stands to reason we decided to give you more pigeons. I expect to be notified the moment the first Mukthar nose emerges from the Queneq Pass. If at all possible, I would like further reports as to which direction they are taking.”

“I see,” Dtain answered. “You can count on us.”

“I know,” the prince said. “All the same, please, guys, be careful. Here, take a look at the map.”

Anaxantis unfolded a map of the Renuvian Plains.

“Smorgann, I leave the ultimate decision to you, but it seems that the ruins of Renuvia would be the best place to make your camp. Once again, be careful. They might be ruins, but still they could be inhabited.

Don't draw attention to yourself. No uniforms. Carry only light weapons on your person. That goes for you too, by the way.”

He looked at Dtain.

“
Your
best base of operation is the most northern part of the Middlewood Forest. You should have an excellent view of the pass from its outskirts. But make the camp itself deeper into the forest. No cooking, no fire. You don't want to advertise your presence by a fragrant plume of smoke. You're there to observe. Not to be observed.”

“Understood, your highness.” The young captain sUnderscapto miled.

“You'll each have a patrol of twenty men. That should be enough to make any other group think twice before they try to interfere with you, yet it isn't so numerous as to raise questions, should you be watched by less friendly eyes.”

Both captains nodded.

“Another thing. Make as much haste as you can, this side of the Mirax. You, Dtain, watch out for the robbers. You, Smorgann, avoid the environs of the Westwood Forest. I'm almost certain there is a group of renegade Mukthars that has made some kind of a home there.”

“Mukthars?” Smorgann said, raising his eyebrows.

“A small group, I think,” Anaxantis replied, absorbed in thought. “We caught our Mukthar guests nearby that forest and I doubt they were the only ones. I suspect more of them are hiding in the woods. Just avoid them. I don't think they're dangerous. Not yet, anyway. And, of course, we have their prince.”

There was some more talk about the formulation of the messages and some other, minor, details.

“Well, I think we covered all of it,” Anaxantis said at last.

“Tomorrow we leave,” Dtain said. “Don't worry, everything will go smoothly and you'll know within hours when the Mukthars penetrate one of the passes.”

The prince looked worriedly at the two clansmen.

“I know I can count on you, guys. Just... just be careful, will you? No heroics. It's not your job to fight them.

Stay out of their way. Your one and only task is reporting their movements. Don't take any risks and haul off as fast as you can at the first sign you could be spotted by the barbarians.”

The captains smiled. They were young and immortal. What was the prince worrying about?

“And now, we wait,” Hemarchidas said, when it was just the two of them.

“More or less, I suppose,” Anaxantis responded absentmindedly.

Hemarchidas sighed.

“Out with it, you little secretive devil. What's bothering you.”

Anaxantis looked up as if he had just awoken from a nap.

“The whole Mirkadesh situation. I've got this uncanny feeling that we still don't know everything there is to know.”

“For one thing, we don't know where they hide their ill gotten treasury.”

“Oh, that's not what I mean. Again something seems to elude me and I can't put my finger on what it is.”

“Let it go. It always comes to you when you're not desperately trying.”

“True.”

“You told me Timishi made the little red monster beg for your forgiveness, and that you made him tell about Mukthar customs. Care to fill me in?”

Anaxantis understood that, besides being curious, Hemarchidas tried to distract him. He gave him a shortened version of what Rodomesh had told him about the Cutting Out.

“Brutal,” Hemarchidas said after he was done. “Mind you, the Cheridonian tribe has its own horror stories.

All in the past and none as merciless as this one though.”

“Not that this is a competition, but I bet the Tanahkos family cis a c fa.��ould rival your stories one by one,” Anaxantis said dryly.

“By the way, learned anything knew about your Mukthar guests from his story?”

Anaxantis laughed.

“Yes. Yes, I did. For a start I learned that Rodomesh is a little liar. But there is more, much more. Surely, you must—”

He stopped mid sentence and suddenly became very pale.

“What? What is it?” Hemarchidas asked alarmed.

Anaxantis looked back at him with consternation in his eyes.

“I think I know why Mirkadesh was never attacked by the Mukthars.”

Lorcko of Iramid was on his way to his weekly appointment with his father.

He drove his horse at the walk. It was only a drive of some eight miles, yet it gave him some extra time to go over things again in his mind. The problem of bedding the prince was solved. If his father asked how he was progressing in that area he had the perfect comeback ready.

“
And,”
he thought, biting his lip, angry at himself for having to repress his tears again, “
I needn't even bring
up Ambrick anymore. What was I thinking? That just because I said the old Lorcko was over and done with
everybody would say ‘Oh, that's all right then’? Why? And why this way? He could have told me in private
he saw no future for us. But he chose to humiliate me in public.”

He flinched, remembering the scene. It had taken all his will power to walk out of The Hole, his head held upright. It hadn't stopped there. Loduvant, until then his best friend, had come home later, looked at him, shaken his head and said only “Really, Iramid.” He then proceeded to pack his belongings and moved out.

That was the first night he had shoved his chest before the door of what was now his room alone. The golden table had remained empty the following days, and life had become very, very lonely.

He could hear them snicker, and sometimes laugh out loud, behind his back. It was all very new to him, used as he was to being admired, respected even. He could see in the eyes of his peers that nothing remained of whatever reverence they might ever have held him in.

They still admired his body, he reflected bitterly, albeit in a very different way. It was as if they looked through his clothes, trying to guess what he looked like naked, how well hung he was. They seemed to be trying to work out how much he was worth, how much it would cost them to use him for half an hour. They looked at him as a slab of meat on display on a stall at Lorseth Market.

He tried to ignore them. What else could he do? He spoke as little as possible, even while on duty. He kept his face as impassive as he could, neither friendly, neither angry.

“
So that was all it took. I let them see a vulnerable side, and the vultures all flocked together to take
advantage of it. How? I was on top of the world. They looked up to me. Did they like the arrogant, callous
Lorcko better? Or were they afraid of him? In awe of him, maybe? Jealous. That was it. They were probably
jealous.”

Not that it mattered. The result was that he was shunned and mocked. Just by falling in love, by trying to mend his ways, he had tumbled down from his plinth and now they treated him as the dirt he had fallen into.

He was grateful that the dusk was already falling and hiding his tears. It didn't matter. None of it did, except Ambrick. He still couldn't comprehend why he had done it. What had gone wrong? He had been honest and true. He had waited patiently. He had neither pressed, nor crowded him. He had just been happy to be in his company whenever they were together. He had believed Ambrick had been happy as well. Hesitant, maybe.

Feeling some trepidations, perhaps. But happy nevertheless. So, what had gone wrong?

Was it maybe simply what he deserved? Had he been too optimistic, too naive, believing that just because he wanted to change, he could? Had it been asking too much of all the others to adjust to the new Lorcko?

Damn it. Was there even such a person. Ha. The new Lorcko. What had been so wrong about the old Lorcko?

At least they hadn't mocked him.

But it seemed he had not only lost Ambrick. He had lost Lorcko as well.

Maybe it was just what he deserved.

By the time he arrived at the tavern where his father had booked a private room like he did every week, Lorcko was totally confused, utterly depressed and in a foul mood to boot.