The Seer - eARC (61 page)

When Nalas came back, he had Amarta in front of him. Her bruises, Innel saw, were fading to yellow and brown. She was doubtless still uncomfortable. Good; he did not want her to forget.

“Well?” he asked, gesturing to the grasslands below.

She looked across the valley, from the walled town to the rounds of thatched Teva buildings. “I think there will be a battle,” she said.

Lismar laughed, and Innel glared at her.

“What else?” he asked.

“Many dead across the valley.”

“Who dead, exactly?”

A pause. “Arunkel soldiers, ser.”

“You are mistaken,” he said. “We outnumber them, many times over.” He looked back over his shoulder at pavilion and tents being assembled at the army’s camp, then back to the towns of Otevan. “Look again.”

She hesitated, as if she were considering her words. Good; he wanted her careful.

“There may be other possibilities, ser. If you don’t retaliate. If you comply with their instructions.”

The general sneered. “Perhaps treason starts here with this one, Lord Commander.”

Amarta looked quickly between them. “Do you think I lie to you, ser General? Lord Commander? That I betray my oath? I do not, I assure you. I stand by my word, ser, I—”

“Yes, yes,” Innel said, waving a hand to silence her. “Is there a hidden force somewhere here, then?”

“I do not know.”

“How can she know the one thing and not the other?” Lismar asked him.

“You cannot win this, ser,” Amarta said to him urgently. “Not if you fight.”

Yet again her words made no sense. He scanned the towns of Otevan, round tiered houses, circles within circles, tiny shaota beige and brown in the distance. He thought through the numbers. Unless there was an impossibly large force hidden somewhere nearby, the Teva and the town together simply could not challenge the size of army behind him.

He motioned to Nalas. “Take her back to her wagon.” The horse turned and left.

Lismar was smiling widely. “I am sure the cooks have brought garlic, Lord Commander. Perhaps you’ll find it tasty.”

After a moment’s consideration he decided to ignore this. “We are here to find and fix treason. The Teva are allies, and we will honor the treaty, as far as we are able.”

“A shame to bring an army all this way to do nothing. Soldiers with weapons want to swing at something. At least get an eyeful of the famous horses and see what the Teva can do.”

For a long moment Innel looked at the distant towns of Ote and Hanatha, musing on the deep blue of the lands on the other side of the Rift.

Whatever Lismar’s agenda, the consequences of what happened here would fall entirely on Innel.

“Best to resolve this without conflict, if we can,” he said.

She nodded. “If we can.”

As Innel stood on the rise with Nalas he thought of the supplies, troops, and horses that spread out behind them. He missed Srel.

“What do they say, Nalas?”

“Ah,” said Nalas, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully. “They complain, of course, ser. The food. They miss wives or husbands or lovers. Not enough wine, henbane, twunta, whores. Competitions between factions. Some fights.” A shrug. “Nothing unusual.”

“Factions? The Houses?”

“Some claim allegiance, connection or ancestry, of course, but no one is wearing House colors. At least not openly.”

“They’d better not be.”

From the distant town, a handful of Teva riders set out in their direction, carrying a white flag. Nalas motioned guards to fetch Lismar.

As Lismar arrived, the five Teva rode to a point roughly halfway to the rise then stopped.

“That seems clear enough,” Lismar said.

“Let’s go meet them.”

Innel counted seven Teva. In addition to Nalas and Lismar he took enough of their own to match that count. They rode down the rise to meet them. As they came close, Innel took in their appearance: the rough clothes made of undyed weave and leather, sewn without trim or decoration. Long knives at their sides, bows on their backs.

And small. He had not remembered from Arteni quite how small the Teva and their shaota horses were. Well, perhaps their fighting horses and warriors were larger.

At the front of the group were two horses and riders, a man and a woman. Did he know these two?

“Greetings, Arunkin,” the Teva man said.

“Greetings, Teva,” Nalas replied on behalf of Innel and Lismar. “You here address the Lord Commander of the Host of Arunkel, Protector of the Realm, Royal Consort to Cern esse Arunkel; also Her Grace, Lismar Anandynar, Duchess of Kastin and Her Majesty’s First General.”

The Teva man exchanged a quick look with the woman by his side, then looked back. “I am Jolon al Otevan. This my sister, Mara.”

Now he remembered where he had seen these two before. At Arteni. Years ago.

Jolon’s eyes flickered past Innel, to the sound from the camp of stakes being pounded, loud enough to carry. “You come with many troops, Arunkin. Do you come to challenge us?”

“We come to ask questions,” Innel replied.

“You bring a mighty force to ask questions.”

“We are seeking to cut away the diseased skin of treason. We bring the necessary tools to do so, no matter where on the body we might find it.”

“Treason? Against whom? You are”—he gestured—“making camp on Teva lands.”

“Against the queen whose lands you live within, Teva,” answered Lismar.

Jolon looked confused. “It is the Teva you wish to ask these questions of?”

“It is.”

“Ah. Then we will require a writ of truce.”

Innel gave Lismar a querying look. She nodded. “So be it,” he said to the Teva. “I offer you a ten-day truce for discussion, in force immediately. Send your leaders to my pavilion and we will sign the decree.”

A few words were spoken between them in the fast, atonal language of the Teva, which Innel did not know. Two of their riders left. “They go to notify our people of this truce. You will do the same?”

Innel motioned to Nalas, who gave an order to two others, who similarly rode off.

“We accept your word,” the Teva man said, “And we two will sign the treaty, then hear your questions.”

Innel frowned. “You? We expect to meet with your leaders.”

“My sister and I hold authority to speak for our Elders and people. As you hold the authority to speak for your queen.”

“I see.”

Barely short of insulting, to compare their elders to the monarch of the empire.

Jolon pointed. “Do you see that rock outcropping there, at the top of that mesa?”

“I do.”

“We will come to sign when the morning sun touches there. We wish you to rest well this night so that when our discussion is complete, you and your many soldiers may return to your homes.”

With this Jolon of the Teva gave Innel a wide, guileless smile.

Innel nodded slowly. “Tomorrow, then.”

As sun touched the rock on the mesa, seven Teva dismounted outside the newly erected pavilion.

Everyone in camp who could arguably have had reason to be close to the command pavilion was there, watching as the Teva slipped down from their small, strangely striped horses. The camp’s horsemaster stepped toward the shaota, looking lost as she realized the horses had no reins to take.

Mara spoke to her. “They do not need your help.”

“But,” the horsemaster began, looking to Innel for direction.

“As they say,” he told her.

Jolon spoke to one of his companions, saying something fast and low. “He will stay here, with the shaota,” he said to Innel.

“So be it.”

Innel led the remaining six into the pavilion, to a long table. Silver cups marked with the Anandynar sigil had been set out in a row. When all were seated, Innel and Lismar on one side, the Teva on the other, an aide poured wine into every cup, moving them into a semicircle equidistant from Jolon and Mara.

Jolon considered the cups, exchanging a quick glance with his sister. He then slid the cups from the ends of the semicircle in sufficient number to pass to his companions, leaving the center two.

Interesting.

Innel and Lismar took the remaining cups.

After they had all sipped, Innel nodded to a clerk, who brought a paper forward, along with a quill, ink, and seal. Innel made his mark and pressed his seal into a pool of red wax the aide dripped onto the document. Another pool of wax was dripped, and Jolon took from around his neck a long, thin seal that appeared to be woven from horsehair, pressing the Teva mark. As it came away, Innel saw a set of stripes much like the pattern on the backs of the shaota.

“Thus is the truce confirmed,” Innel said after the necessary marks were made.

“Then”—From Jolon, an open hand, a gesture—“ask your questions, Lord Commander and First General.”

Innel took another sip of the dark wine, considering the group before him. “Where is the gold coming from?”

“Gold?”

“In any form. Nuggets. Bars. Counterfeit coin. Statuettes. Those who make these items commit high treason.”

Jolon appeared to consider this as he sat back. Then: “We regret we cannot help you with this.”

Innel studied the Teva, thinking of Keyretura’s words about the figurine and its casting and traces of gold. This man, this Teva before him, had handed that figurine to Innel as he sat on his horse at Arteni. Behind the Teva had been trade wagons.

Wagons Innel had decided not to search. Wagons that might have been full of these figurines, some of which might have been made of less lead and more gold. It was all starting to make a kind of sense. Innel suspected that Jolon and Mara, like the Teva itself, were not quite what they seemed.

But all that showed on their faces were looks of innocence.

“We want to check your foundries,” Innel said. “Search your lands.”

“We do not permit this,” Jolon said easily. “Whatever you seek on Teva lands, it is not yours. We are sovereign—”

“Within Arunkel borders,” Lismar said.

“—sovereign under the treaty of Nipatas Two,” Jolon continued, his gaze still on Innel, “a treaty signed in blood, renewed by Hesindae One, Evintine Three, and Restarn the first of his name, your queen’s own father. All esse Arunkel.”

“We know the treaty, its ratifications, and what it means, Jolon al Otevan,” Innel said.

“And we have been your neighbors in peace for over three hundred years.”

Lismar leaned forward, jabbed a finger at the two of them. “Listen, Teva: no treaty gives you the right to violate Arunkel law. Your sovereignty does not swathe you like a babe. If it is not you doing these things, then you surely know who it is, and you will reveal this to us.”

Jolon spread his hands. “We deny violating any law. We have nothing to tell you.”

“Then you will not protest if we look around,” Innel said.

“We do protest. It is our land. If you go farther, it is trespass.”

At this tense moment, an aide stepped inside the pavilion. At this interruption, Innel shot Nalas a sharp look. Nalas quickly conferred with the aide, gave Innel a look that said the matter was urgent. Innel motioned him to speak.

“A scout from the southern team, Lord Commander,” Nalas said. “She reports the other nine on the team are dead, slaughtered in a gully at a watering hole. She is wounded. Barely escaped.”

Innel was on his feet. “Who did this?” he demanded.

Nalas’s eyes flickered to the Teva. “Dressed in simple clothes, from the scout’s description. Much as they are, ser.”

No one was sitting now. The Teva spread out slightly from each other, fingers spread wide. Not yet on weapons.

Innel gave his full attention to Jolon. “Hours into our truce and you murder my men?”

“Not us, Lord Commander,” Jolon said, hands up in a gesture of placation.

Innel glanced at Lismar. She trusted them no more than he did. “You deny much, Teva,” he said. “Our credulity stretches thin. Someone has killed our scouts. Someone commits treason against our queen.” He gave Nalas a sign. Nalas dipped his head, little more than a twitch, and was gone.

“What we wear,” Jolon said, “it is simply practical. Many wear such clothes. On our lands and yours.”

“Very well,” Innel said. “You claim this is not your work. For the moment we will consider the truce whole and refrain from retaliation. But we will have answers. One of your people may leave to tell your Elders what has happened. The rest, and you in particular, Jolon of the Teva, will stay here until we get what we came for.”

“What?” Jolon seemed shocked. “You cannot hold us against our will.”

“I think you will find I can.”

A twenty count of guards were streaming into the tent, weapons ready.

Jolon spoke softly to his sister. They exchanged urgent whispers. With a loathing look at Innel, Mara turned to leave. At Innel’s signal, the guards parted to let her through.

“Disarm the others,” he commanded, noting Lismar’s expression. She approved.

The remaining five Teva did not resist as they were stripped of their blades and bows and arrows. Outside were the sounds of two Teva and their horses—Mara and the one already there—riding off.

And now, finally, satisfyingly, Jolon showed an expression beyond wide-eyed innocence. An intensity that Innel could not quite read. Fear, perhaps.

Good. It was time the Teva took them seriously.

“Food and water for their horses,” Innel told an aide.

“Leave them be,” Jolon said. “They come and go as they wish.”

“We will pen them. For their own protection. Until this matter is resolved.”

“Lord Commander,” Jolon said. “This is unwise.”

“So is your silence. You will give us the answers we need.”

He gestured to Lismar to step outside with him.

He and Lismar watched as the camp’s horse handlers surrounded the shaota and attempted to usher them into a fenced enclosure. The small horses seemed undecided about this, but after a few minutes went where they were directed. The horsemaster had water troughs and feed brought while she yelled at the collected crowd to get back.

“If I had brought the mage,” he told Lismar softly as they watched, “instead of leaving him at the palace to protect the queen, I would bring him into this questioning, because his very presence loosens tongues. This is the reason for having the rumored fortune-teller in hand.”