Lord of Blood, page 6
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To the northeast of the great palace walls in the center of Khaldiriam was a large forested parkland. Here Nurab’s Company, both its Free Companions and its bondsoldiers, five hundred sturdy professionals when at strength as now, trained in their stock of physical exercises and field maneuvers.
Jamnar found it not difficult to take orders he had once been accustomed to giving, for Nurab’s men knew what they were doing. “We are not in the business of dying,” one burly scarlet-caped lieutenant said during one hot afternoon two weeks after Jamnar’s arrival. “We leave that for the noblemen when they sally forth with us. Now let me see once more how quickly you can all disappear without a sound.”
In moments the fifty men, who had been standing on a grassy knoll in the midst of the forest-park, had hid themselves in the surrounding trees and bushes.
“Well, then,” Lieutenant Ghradhur said as he walked among the trees, “if you weren’t all so noisy you might, perhaps, surprise a few timid, unwary amateurs. Ho, there, Valzar, where are you this time? Come out; let’s show these incompetent wretches what the captain wants. Sell half of you back to slavery, that’s what I’ll tell the captain. Will that improve your skills?”
The lieutenant was standing beside a cluster of low shrubs; Jamnar rose silently from behind them, two arms’-lengths from Ghradhur’s short scarlet cape as it fluttered slightly in the warm wind.
Ghradhur started perceptibly. Jamnar’s face was impassive, however, and the lieutenant broke out into a broad grin.
“That earns you a chance at a red collar, a lance of ten men. Teach them to slip into the shadows the way you do—you won’t have much time, I’ll admit—and the collar is yours, both scarlet and grey.”
Jamnar slapped palm on leather breastplate in acknowledgment of the implied order. A surprising leap of savage joy surged inside him at the chance to do something reminiscent of his past life; grey, the color of field command.
He quickly learned there was not time to teach them anything useful about hunter’s mind, especially since the constant pressures of slave and soldier life kept him from it himself, more and more.
Three of his ten men were slowwitted, former slaves to masters worse than Hazund; but they were fiercely strong. The remainder, seven sturdy slaves purchased as Jamnar had been, were far quicker to grasp Jamnar’s sketchy instructions in woodsmanship.
Now in the midst of a new life of strain Jamnar began to gain a clearer idea of what was happening in Khaldir and the Flanage. Some things he knew but had not put together; others he learned for the first time, as the life of a lance in charge of ten placed him ever more and more in a position of having to know.
Nurab’s Company had been in Athandur’s employ for some five years. As there were some fifty free companies in the Flanage, and, currently, only thirty two separate citystates, Athandur’s had been a reign of relative peace, for all that his bloody public executions kept bright the title of Lord of Blood that went to the man in the crimson throne of Khaldir.
In the past two months, however, King Athandur had begun accumulating what was a vast army, indeed. A hundred men and officers from Nurab’s Company of five hundred had been detached to train specially-purchased slaves from scratch, as with Jamnar, and for three weeks a new Free Company had arrived in Khaldiriam each week. Rumor did not put a limit on further arrivals, while the trainees were regarded as either replacements-in-advance or as the nucleus of one or more new companies.
And there had not been a new company formed in the Flanage for two decades.
Hazund had been trying to pry information out of Captain Nurab for some time, relevant to the king’s planning; interest everywhere now was beginning to rise. Which of the seven countries surrounding Khaldir would the Lord of Blood strike at? Or would the Flanage lands nearby take alarm, all or in part, at this unbalancing of power?
And… when?
“You are fortunate Sergeant Doorth still finds enjoyment in marching maneuvers,” Kasul said dryly as he and Jamnar sat down in Torthnunon’s Inn.
“I will try the ale tonight. I am afraid I find Bythire wine to be worse than promised, even after close study,” said Jamnar, grinning briefly. “The sergeant was quite willing to understand that barbarians know nothing about close-order drill, which is true. My ten are fortunately capable of learning woodcraft, and your advice to begin by getting drunk with them has certainly helped them to overlook the fact that, to them, I know nothing but woodcraft!”
Kasul laughed, and Jamnar smiled although he was not quite certain what he said. Mrathna set down two foaming jacks of ale, and the two men drank deeply.
“What are you going to do about Lynor,” said Kasul then, setting his ale down.
Jamnar frowned. “I do not know. If the company is sent outside the city…. well, I have been trying to see Captain Nurab for several days. Perhaps he could buy the lad from Pharian. If he joined the company, there would likely be no problem; there is always work to be done, and Lynor is fit enough though he is too young to bear arms.”
“Look you now, talk is that we shall be called upon to leave Khaldiriam in a matter of weeks,” said Kasul. “Affairs have grown very tense between Khaldir and Vraltor; Rallan of Vraltor is almost certain to attack Dalvar to gain the west bank of the river Dalvardava. Then, too, there are rumors that Chaitor Zun to the west plans to attack our ally Ruldoun.”
Jamnar nodded and drank more ale. “I will do something, even if it is to steal the boy away. Pharian did not take his blood for the Trackers, so…”
Kasul studied him for a moment, then said, “Would you care to meet my fairest love of all, tonight? The legendary mistress of my heart that everyone in the company has heard me speak of, yet no one knows? You are a quiet enough man, Valzar; a sturdy man and quiet; and I crave to have my good taste at last approved, by one who will not spread the tale further, eh?” He drained his ale and stood up decisively, clapping Jamnar on the back.
Jamnar got up slowly, draining the rest of his jack of ale, and followed Kasul outside. Phareth was on the increase and high in the night sky.
They walked in silence for a long time. Jamnar found himself relaxing, absorbing the sounds and scents of the night. Life here was intense, compared to his own wintry northlands; he had begun getting as nervous and irritable as his fellows.
“We are here,” said Kasul softly. “See, this limb over the wall? It is leafless and appears rotten, but it will hold. Then, once inside, follow me—and softy, for kindness’ sake, with all your skill at it!”
Kasul jumped lightly upwards, grasping a limb and hauling himself into the tree.
Jamnar followed him up, and out along the limb.
Past the wall, there was a small drop to a low roof. The two men paused there after heavy thumps of arrival; but no sound of alarm had been raised. “These are but outbuildings,” Kasul whispered. “Come along the roofs now to the main quarters, where we must make the dangerous entrance into the corridors.”
And he darted lightfootedly along the low rooftops toward a distant looming shape.
“Hold!” whispered Jamnar urgently, just as they reached the main quarters.
Kasul halted instantly, turning a suddenly pale face this way and that, looking for the danger.
“Nay,” said Jamnar, “no immediate peril. But this is the villa of the Rozuth!”
“Why, yes,” said Kasul. “You came from a brief stay here, did you not? But what of it?”
“Nothing,” said Jamnar, “save that I imagine Hazund would be delighted to slay me on sight.”
“Well, and what would he do to me, who comes wooing his fair daughter Leliel, eh? Now come along, softly and quickly!”
CHAPTER TEN
“Kasul!” Leliel said eagerly. “It has been these two weeks since you thought to come see me! And the slave-prince! I shall call Ailaisha!” She turned away and went to a far door, talking briefly with a slave outside.
“Come along in, then, Valzar,” said Kasul jovially. “I told you she would greet me with joy!”
Somewhat reluctantly Jamnar stepped through delicate pink hangings into the perfumed quarters. He was irritated with himself, especially so since he realized it was because it upset him to be here. These southern cityfolk had made him as nervous about times of peril as they themselves; for he could see that Kasul’s confidence was in part bluster, not the calm lack of apprehension of a hunter.
“It is good to see you,” said Leliel. “Our Rozuth men become very tiresome; Pharian is off in his quarters and Father is off plotting, as usual. King Athandur will have him boiled in his own blood yet, and if you think that would be a loss to any of us here—”
“Plots?” Kasul said, eyes lighting up. “I must know more of this, Leliel! Information is more valuable than gold at times.”
Ailaisha entered Leliel’s chambers, and gave a little shriek of joy at seeing Jamnar. “Valzar! How brave to come into the household of your greatest enemy! Do you come to the bidding of barbarian instincts, to win glory and defend your king?” Her eyes danced with amusement as she spoke; and Jamnar could not tell whether she meant the words or the amusement.
“The two of you may make sport of it,” said Kasul with a mock sternness, “but we are risking our lives to come here, and…”
“And not to see us,” said Leliel, pouting. “Ailaisha, my dearest, let us say nothing. After all, we owe our father…”
“Nothing but our lives, and that was a long time past, and besides our mother did far more, if tales I hear are true,” said Ailaisha. “Nay, my slave-prince makes his way upward in the Flanage, and I am pleased, yes, my slave-prince, and pleased and proud I am.”
“Ohhhh,” said Leliel disappointed, “I want Kasul here to talk to me; I want his outrageous lies again. And here you want to go advance their, their careers.” Yet she did not seem to be greatly angered.
Suddenly Jamnar was angry, though he tried to conceal it. “Do I understand you propose to betray your own father?” he said, his voice quivering slightly.
“You have met him, have you not?” asked Ailaisha, mildly indignant, and turned away.
“In betraying his king he endangers his entire family, for I am certain the Lord of Blood would see us all into the hands of his executioner. And have you seen a public execution here? They take hours—for each man,” said Leliel.
“And woman,” Ailaisha whispered, paling.
Kasul placed a hand on Jamnar’s shoulder a moment and said, “It is a particularly horrible sight; but it’s the tradition. It goes along with being the Lord of Blood, which is a Khaldir epithet that some say predates the old wars themselves. Now, if we can persuade them to let us take advantage of this opportunity to rid the world of a man who betrays his land, his king, his family, and beats his slaves a good deal, too, why…” He ended up chuckling, and turned away as if to say that it was now decided.
“What of the other members of your family,” Jamnar persisted. “Might they not hold other opinions?”
“Marath is eldest,” said Ailaisha, “and plots as much as father; he is the heir, you see. Pharian hates father deeply, for such things as taking you from him, and others much like; besides, he need not fear greatly. He has a secret home elsewhere in Khaldiriam that even father knows nothing of. I suppose we would all be safe from father’s wrath there, should anything go wrong. As for the others, they are but half-relations—born of healthy slavewomen. Their opinions do not count, though they too have little affection for the Lord Elder.”
“Then it is settled, then?” Kasul prodded. “Ailaisha? Leliel? And Valzar, then?” He looked at each in turn as he said the name, and went to the next only at an answering nod.
Most reluctantly, Jamnar nodded. How astonishingly different these girls were than Shannai’sha—or Tashai’a. He stood there in a kind of shock for some moments, until the others called to them from the doorway.
He followed in a confused haste quite unlike him, trying to follow in memory the thread of what had happened.
After some minutes treading softly through silent corridors, they paused at an intersection; Leliel pointed at a door down the second hall. “There are half a dozen strange men in there with Father and Marath,” she whispered. “Come in here.”
They stepped inside the empty room she indicated, and shut the door carefully behind them.
“There’s a ladder to the roof in here,” Leliel continued. “The window ledges do not continue around, but you can hear them through their window from above unless it’s closed. Then you’d have to climb down onto the single ledge there. Come along, we’ll show you! Ailaisha and I know all the little hidden ways…” Up the rough ladder she climbed with a light laugh, and the others followed.
From the roof above, they could see the conspirators’ window was closed. Shadows on the courtyard beyond showed men walking about in the room, but only occasionally could they hear a briefly-raised voice, muffled and unintelligible.
The room beneath them was low-ceilinged; it was only a slight drop from the roof onto its narrow ledge.
Here, crouching precariously on the ledge, they could hear the words spoken inside the room, while Leliel and Ailaisha stayed above, keeping a sort of watch.
“…can’t have it every way,” someone was saying.
“No, nor do I wish to,” Hazund’s voice said. “With our assassin from East Tharet now in his private service, we may be rid of Athandur whenever we wish—and I say the time has come. Our friends will simply have to take the event as it comes. Or do you not believe my information, Nemilion?”
“I would trust it more had you not so foolishly broken with Captain Nurab. There must have been much of interest occurring since then that he could have let you know about. What a foolish falling-out, Hazund!”
“It was the privileged matter of my daughter’s body and a slave who—”
“May the green demons of Zhard rape your daughters, all of them! Curse you, Hazund, we’re talking about the whole future of the Flanage! And let me tell you, it is hard for me, almost impossibly hard, in a few words, to believe Athandur is so foolish as to be planning an attack on all his neighbors! At the same time, you would even insist! Why, even King Rokhul the Black avoided attempting the impossible!”
“My dear Nemilion,” Hazund said smoothly, his voice shaking only a trifle, “you may believe as you wish. But with a king’s-table servant now in my pay, I shall not long await your credence. I have plans of my own for Khaldir and for those splendid Free Companies the Lord of Blood has so quietly and carefully acquired. You know I do not crave empery over the entire Flanage—it would be far too much work for me, for one thing! And for another, I would use them to enforce what Athandur has always lacked the iron nerve for—the inexorable, and detailed, rule over the people of Khaldir. How lax a reign, after all; how much more interesting mine would be, with executions every day instead of once a week, and—”
A new voice, heavier, more solid and assured than Nemilion’s, interrupted Hazund. “I say strike tomorrow and strike hard. With the king dead against no combatant, the chamberlains will make certain the nobility picks a successor quickly. The Lord Elder of Rozuth has the support of many Firebrands, we know; and enough of the Watchers are amenable to the combined bribes we can offer—”
“We have not the certainty,” came a high-pitched voice.
Hazund said loudly, “Tarchu, you will respect Larthan’s right to speak; we will hear from you and Sallten in due time.”
“Nonsense,” said Tarchu brusquely. “There are many others who could combine to proffer bribes against us; and the new occupant of the Blood jewel Throne—should your candidacy fail—might drive a nice bargain with High Prince Rallan. No, no, things must proceed much more slowly.”
The harsh scrape of a heavy chair being slid back cut across Tarchu’s words. “I do not know about Sallten nor Tarchu,” said another rather high-pitched new voice. “Cesh Vran says strike. We shall clear away the air in these lands as simply and directly as I clear the accursed smoke from this room. The sooner we are done with this and ruling things, the quicker we can find ourselves at ease wherever we wish, not fearful at every…”
Kasul scrambled away from the window as Jamnar reached upwards for the roof, but even as they moved the window was swung inward.
A pale swearing face with a self-confident look leaned forward into the darkness and took a deep breath of fresh night air, even as he looked casually from one side of the ledge to the other—and yelled incoherently.
Ailaisha shrank back against Leliel as Jamnar’s head came over the top; then in a moment Kasul was with them, while there was a scrambling inside the room below and shouts of “What?” “Spies?” “Where?” “Treason!” “Guards!”
As the four on the roof looked round to pick a direction to flee in, Kasul looked over the edge. Cesh Vran began climbing out the window, clumsily trying to draw his sword at the same time and shouting out into the courtyard for guards.
Then Leliel was signaling them to go back down the way they had come, and they were running back along the roof to the hole they had emerged from.
Abruptly Cesh Vran ceased his bellowing.
“Ha!” said Kasul triumphantly. “They are close to the avenue-walls here, and they don’t want to rouse the streetwatch, after all! Sallten and Nemilion are two of Athandur’s particular worst enemies among the Dalvar nobility. We will have a good chance to make our way over one of the walls…”
Down into the small dark room they descended; and Kasul opened the corridor door just slightly. Then he whispered to them, “Quick! They haven’t yet opened their own door—they must be in a rare panic just now! It’s our only real chance!”
And in a moment he was running down the hall, followed by the two girls and, some paces behind with drawn sword, Jamnar.
Round several corners they ran at full speed—then Kasul came to an abrupt halt.
“Wait—guards up ahead. Can we get to your quarters this other way? Then we can get to the back roofs and over the wall.”
