The Stricken Field (3 page)

"I don't know, dear. Perhaps he was leading one of the legions they ambushed." Inos did not want to speculate, even to herself. She did not think the imperor would ever lead a single legion, or even two. It was only three months since the old Emshandar had died, and Shandie ought to be in Hub, tending his inheritance. Why should he be here, in northwest Julgistro, hundreds of leagues from his capital? Could he have been on his way to Krasnegar? Gath had seen him in a vision; Rap had speculated that Shandie might similarly have seen Gath. She hoped the imperor had not been coming to consult his old sorcerer-friend Rap. That would mean that Rap, when he headed off to Hub, had failed to meet up with Shandie. Sorcerers did not make mistakes like that. The implications would not bear thinking about.

Then she heard the guttural jabber of goblins outside, mingled with the subterranean rumble of dwarves. She was summoned to the feast.

The leaders of the coalition were still holding court within a burned-out shell of a barn, but there had been changes in the last couple of hours. The central bonfire roared even larger, and there were more chiefs in attendance. They were sitting in a ragged circle on boxes and barrels instead of the littered floor, which meant that dwarvish customs had prevailed over the goblins'. They alternated-mailed gray men and half-naked greenish men.

Inos sensed a new antagonism. Weapons had disappeared, no one was smiling. The negotiations had not gone well, then.

She was led to an unoccupied nail keg between Death Bird and Karax. Possibly that was intended to be the place of honor. More likely, both wanted to know why she was there and neither trusted the other alone with her. Gath was given a patch of dirty floor on the opposite side of the fire, the smoky side. Kadie had not been included in the invitation. After some grumbling, she was allowed to remain, sitting in a corner by herself. Fair enough!

Inos thought Death Bind looked tired, although the heavy tattooing on his face made it hard to read. His bulky torso and limbs shone greasily, and every now and again she would catch a stomach-turning whiff of rancid goblin unguent. He gnawed on a meat bone in ominous silence.

The dwarvish general was older than she had realized. There was silver in the natural gray of his beard, and his rough-hewn face bore many tiny wrinkles, like cracks in weathered sandstone. Even for a dwarf, he was surly. His table manners were no better than Death Bird's.

Nor were hers, of course. She bit listlessly at her own hunk of meat, wiping her mouth with her hand and her hands on her robe. The fire crackled and sprayed sparks up into the night sky. There was very little talk anywhere in the company, and where there was, goblins were conversing across dwarves and vice versa, not to one another. Language was part of the problem, but distrust was playing a part, also. Again she wondered how long this unlikely coalition could survive.

Gods, but she was tired! Every bone ached. Six days in the saddle!

Eventually the diners began tossing their discards into the embers. She copied them with relief. Then she licked and wiped her forgers as best she could and waited for the greater ordeal to begin.

She wished she could see Gath more clearly. Being an hour or two ahead of her, he could give her hints, were the fire not between them. Sometime soon she was going to be asked what her mission was. To confess that she had blundered into this disaster by sheer accident would leave her very little status to bargain with.

At last Death Bird belched and threw away his bone. He shot an unfriendly glance past her at Karax. "Start entertainment?"

The dwarf scowled as only dwarves could. "Just two." "Was agreed, two." Death Bird spoke in goblin. He could manage fair impish when he chose, although he still had the jotunn accent he had picked up years ago from Thane Kalkor's crew.

"But first I want to hear from Queen Inosolan," Karax said.

The goblin shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Speak, woman. Why here?"

Inos drew a deep breath. She decided to stick to the truth as far as she could. If she tried lying and was disbelieved, then her later efforts to save Shandie would be made more difficult. "Your Majesty ... your Excellency ... I thought I was here by accident, but now I suspect otherwise." She could address only one at a time, and watch only one face at a time.

"Tell where Rap!" Death Bird demanded, in no mood to listen to speeches.

"He went to Hub." "When?"

"Three months ago, or more."

"Why?"

Inos turned to the dwarf. "My husband is a sorcerer." "I know."

"He spoke with a God. He was given a warning to pass on to the Impire. And he himself foresaw a great disaster." Death Bird chuckled coarsely and switched to impish. "His warning was not believed then."

"Not you. Not this. The danger is occult, and it threatens goblins and dwarves just as much as the Impire."

The goblin grunted skeptically. "He told me. This is old news, Inosolan."

"But perhaps still timely. The millennium has not come yet."

"Never mind the sorcerer," Karax rumbled. "Stop evading the question. Why are you here?"

"There is a magic portal between my kingdom and the house at Kinvale. I came through and was captured by Death Bird's troops."

The Dwarf cleared his throat harshly and spat toward the fire. "That's all? Then you are a blundering fool. Your loyalty is to the Impire. You are spies, or will be if you get the chance. We should kill the boy now, then give you and your daughter to the troops."

Inos hoped that was merely an initial bargaining position, although dwarves were notoriously suspicious and untrusting. She turned her head to study Death Bird's reaction. "My husband was a good friend to you once."

"Long ago. For him I spared your town many times, when my young men wanted it for sport. What happened to Quiet Stalker?" His angular eyes glinted with cold anger.

"He tried to rape my daughter. A sorcerer's daughter. That was unwise."

The goblin showed his white tusks, but he did not seem to be smiling. "No, he didn't. Your son gave him the girl for the night to seal a treaty. So it was not rape! Your son knew she bore an occult sword, one that cannot be seen unless she wishes it to be seen. He is a cheat and a murderer." Inos's heart was beating much too fast now. She could feel sweat streaming down her face, and that was not all due to the heat of the fire. "He did not promise she would submit. The condition was that your nephew could subdue the girl. He failed."

"Against an unmentioned sorcery. Perhaps we should try another man or two, without the sword?"

She faced the threat as defiantly as she could manage, clenching her fists. "Rap is a sorcerer, as you well know. If any of us comes to harm he will hold you responsible, Death Bird. Dare you risk the vengeance of a sorcerer?"

"Yes." The goblin scratched the bristly hairs around his mouth, peering across her at the dwarf. "General, I give you the choice. Tonight one of us will take the daughter and one the mother. Which do you want? All three of them can amuse the troops afterward."

Karax's permanent scowl deepened. "There is more to this than we have heard yet, I think."

"Yes, there is," Inos said quickly. "Bring in your entertainment, your Majesty." For a moment the gruesome assembly seemed to swim before her eyes and she feared she would faint. "I ... I have a surprise for you."

If Gath was wrong, it would be she who got the nasty surprise.

Death Bird studied her for a moment, then turned to bark an order. He had known about the sword. He was not frightened of Rap. There could be only one conclusion-he had sorcerers of his own in attendance. Suddenly things began to seem a great deal clearer, and a great deal worse, were that possible. If this ravaging horde was occultly aided, then it might itself be the great evil that Rap had foreseen. Could the Gods Themselves imagine anything worse?

"And summon my son," Inos added.

For a moment she thought the goblin would refuse, but he gave the order.

She heard laughter, then Gath came around the fire, stumbling barefoot on the rough debris, clad only in one of the goblins' skimpy breechclouts. He looked absurdly skinny and pale pink in this company, far taller than anyone else present. His appearance had united dwarf and goblin for the first time that night. They were all laughing.

"Sit here," Inos said, but he stepped around to stand behind her and huddled close against her furs. He might freeze there, but he probably felt safer. His hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed. She hoped that was meant as a sign of encouragement.

There was a brief disturbance beyond the fire, then two burly goblins appeared, dragging an unwilling captive between them. He seemed tall in this company, but he was not big for an imp. His hands were bound behind him, his clothes hung in tatters. Several days' growth of beard obscured his face, matted with old blood and dirt. He was pitched forward at Death Bird's feet. He twisted slightly to take the impact with a shoulder, but then he lay still.

Inos thought her heart would explode, it was beating so hard. This human refuse could not be the man she had expected. Two, the goblin king had said-so this might not be the one she wanted.

"Well?" Death Bird demanded. "What surprise? Will you offer to begin the sport?"

With a mouth almost too dry for speech, she said, "Lift him up."

The goblin gestured, the prisoner was hauled to his knees.

He saw Gath first. His eyes widened in disbelief and he uttered a cry. Then he looked to Inos. She saw mortal despair flicker into unbearable hope.

They had not met since he was ten years old. She would never have recognized him. But he knew her.

She did not trust herself to rise and stand erect. She could hardly curtsey to a man on his knees, anyway. So she just smiled to assure him that she knew who he was.

"Royal cousin ... your Excellency ... This is his Imperial Majesty, Emshandar V, Imperor of Pandemia."

Death Bird looked to his right and bellowed. "Long Runner!"

An elderly goblin four or five places along had been picking his teeth with a twig. He spat. "So it is." He stayed where he was and continued poking his teeth.

Karax muttered something under his breath, but he had been exchanging glances with one of the dwarves to his left. There were at least two sorcerers present, then.

Shandie lurched to his feet, awkward in his bonds. His eyes were as wild as his hair, but he seemed to have himself under control. "We meet again, Death Bird. You had another name when last we met-and sometimes another face, also."

The great goblin tusks were showing again. Under his tattoos, Death Bird's cheeks were turquoise with fury. He had been caught off guard in the presence of his allies and senior deputies.

His voice came out as a dangerous low growl. "Explain, imp!"

Inos marveled at the prisoner's courage. A moment ago he must have been steeling himself to die in long agony. Now a glimmer of a chance for life had put his shoulders back and lifted his chin. He smiled grotesquely down at his seated captors and shook his head.

"A private conference-you ... and the general. And Queen Inos, of course. I bring news you should hear." "You make conditions?" The goblin was shivering, his fingers hooked like claws. He could tear the prisoner in pieces with his bare hands.

"I know you are not a fool, goblin." Shandie glanced around at the puzzled company. Very few of them seemed to have realized what was happening. Then those dark imperious eyes came back to Death Bird and Karax. "You can't trust everyone here."

"By the Gods, I will skin you myself!"

"Maybe. But not just yet you won't." Filthy and tattered, bound and maltreated, the impish scarecrow was dominating the contest. He repeated his gruesome smile. "I am the imperor. You know that the Council of Four actually has a fifth member, who must be mundane. You know who that one is. I repeat that I bring you news you both must hear and consider carefully. Whatever you decide to do with me afterward, you must first listen to me. And you must make sure that I am telling the truth."

For a moment Gath's teeth stopped chattering and he sighed softly at Inos's back. Things were going to be all right-for the next hour, or even two.

A thousand leagues to the south, the moon had set over the foothills of the great Mosweeps Range. Dawn was already turning the sky to pearl, but the light was poor for riding. The trail up the Frelket Valley wound through pine woods, staying close to the chattering river. It was reasonably flat but rarely used and badly overgrown. The horses stumbled on rocks, flinching at the touch of saplings and thorn bushes.

Somewhere behind was the Covin, the greatest concentration of sorcerers Pandemia had ever known. Somewhere ahead were the mountains. Most of the time their impossible barrier was mercifully concealed by the trees, but now and again Rap would glimpse the spectral glitter of starlight on rock and ice, a wall that seemed to obscure half the sky.

He could sense the shivering fear of his mount, and hated the need to force it. If he was thrown and broke his neck it would serve him right, he thought. He dared not use power to soothe the horses or spy out the way, for it would reveal his location to the Covin. Fortunately Thrugg had a troll's ability to see in the dark, and every now and again he would calm the animals. It was a necessary risk if the fugitives were to make any speed, and his occult strength was so great that even at such close quarters Rap would catch barely a glimpse of him in the ambience.

The troll was running along ahead at Norp's side, giving the impression that he could keep up the pace indefinitely. Young Norp was doing amazingly well. Almost certainly she had never been on a horse in her life. Horses disliked trolls-their musky scent, most likely, or just their grotesquely ugly faces. Perhaps they feared such hulking people might try to ride them. No horse ever foaled could have carried Thrugg's weight for very long, or even Urg's, who was running at her husband's back.

Andor brought up the rear, cursing continuously under his breath. Andor was a fine horseman but no hero. His mount was scenting his terror and giving more trouble than either Rap's or Norp's.