Chasing the Phoenix, page 7
amilliontorturesarebeingpreparedforyouandallofyours
Effortlessly floating up so that Surplus had to throw his head back to meet her eyes, the lady then bent over almost double, so that their lips all but met. He saw now that what he had taken for her face was actually a mask and that there was nothing behind it. “I do not fear you,” he said, “or anything you might say.”
Gusts of laughter rose up out of nowhere, growing to a wind that shredded the fluttering robes like sheets of tissue paper and sent the mask tumbling away like a leaf.
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
YOU LIE, PUPPYKINS,
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
FOR WE KNOW WHY
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
YOU FLED FROM THE
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
LAND OF YOUR BIRTH.
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
“No!” Surplus cried and, throwing an arm before his eyes, found himself falling over backward into a sea of mocking laughter.
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
FRAGRANT TREE,
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
OH MOCK HERO—
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
TELL YOUR KING.
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
* * *
“SIR?” VICIOUS Brute said. “Sir, are you well?”
Surplus shook himself. “Is the … lady … gone?”
“Lady, sir? No, sir. Nobody here but us. You touched one of them vines I warned you about and fell over and went into spasms for a bit. Then you woke up.”
“I saw…”
“Whatever you saw, it was an illusion, sir. Trust me. I know the spirits of this mountain and they never tell you a true word.”
“Well,” Surplus said. “A false vision, you say?” And again, “Well.” He shook himself and, with the aid of Vicious Brute, stood. All his flesh was pins and needles but he seemed to be unharmed. Surplus had already decided to share this strange event with no one—the Hidden King most emphatically included. In his experience, some messages were best left undelivered. “At any rate, I doubt it was of any import.”
They started up the trail again. At least an hour passed before Surplus asked, “Have we far to go?”
“No, sir, not really. We’re almost there.”
“Good.”
Up the darkening gorge they went, occasionally clambering over collapsed walls or splashing across the stream when their path switched sides. Until finally they came to a shallow slope covered with loose masonry and broken tiles. Clattering noisily, they made their way up and out of the ravine to find themselves in a clearing with a dozen or so rustic huts and lean-tos, crudely crafted from branches, rope, and straw.
At last they had come to the bandit camp.
The noise of their ascent had alerted the bandits of their approach. Some fifteen or sixteen rough-looking ruffians, many of them women and all armed with swords, pistols, and improvised clubs, had come out to confront them.
For a still instant, the two sides confronted each other in silence. Then a slim woman with hair as red as flame cried, “Little brother!” and ran into Vicious Brute’s arms. He lifted her up, bounced her down. On the ground again, she drew herself up, and he stepped back respectfully.
“You may kneel,” she said, “and report.”
But before Vicious Brute could do so, Surplus stepped forward and said, “Your brother is now a soldier of the Abundant Kingdom, in the pay of the Hidden King, and so of course he is not free to kneel before anyone outside of his proper chain of command.” To lessen the sting of his words, he smiled. “You are clearly the leader of this group of unallied commandos. If I may ask, your name is—?”
“Fire Orchid.” The bandit leader studied him, as if he were some species of large and unattractive bug. “Who—and what—are you?”
Surplus formally introduced himself, adding, “As to what I am, I have, in my day, played many parts.” Turning casually to his donkey, Surplus began untying the saddlebags. “I am a gentleman, an adventurer, a wanderer, and a soldier of fortune. Currently, I am acting as an emissary for the Hidden King, whose destiny washes over these lands as irresistibly as the tides. Of that, we shall speak later. For the moment, what matters most is that I have brought food.” He lightly tossed a cured ham to the nearest brigand, who dropped a broken rake handle to catch it. “Food enough for a feast.” He produced bottles of liquor and distributed them to eager hands. “Since I came here uninvited, it seems only fair that I feed you so that we may afterward converse as friends.”
Fire Orchid did not look at all pleased. But she only said, “Very well. We can, as you say, talk afterward.”
* * *
BY THE time the last of the food was cooked and eaten, night had fallen and the bandits had made most of the booze disappear. Surplus himself ate abstemiously and drank not at all, bringing the cup to his mouth frequently but only pretending to sip from it. Left alone with his thoughts, he found himself puzzling over the significance of the mysterious apparition he had seen earlier. So it was startling to look up and realize that the feast was over. Some of the bandits were staggering about in what might be a dance. Others lay drunkenly on the ground. Three of them were singing almost the same song. And Fire Orchid was staring at him intently from the other side of the fire. When their eyes met, she came over and sat down beside him, cross-legged. With her high boots and tight trousers, loose tunic, multiple silver bracelets, and the silk scarf tied about her neck, she looked the very prototype of a bandit queen. Her hair shifted colors in the firelight. “You aren’t drinking,” she said.
“Nor you,” Surplus observed, “though you pretended to fill your cup frequently and occasionally surreptitiously emptied it in the weeds.”
“I think maybe it is time for me to show you what I have to offer.”
“I am at your disposal, madam.”
The mountain horses were kept in a nearby grassy sward, surrounded by a chest-high pole fence. Surplus and Fire Orchid stood for a while, watching them crop grass. They were everything they were reputed to be, chimerical creatures with the size and beauty of unaltered horses, the legs and paws of some enormous triple-jointed cat, and beaks that would have done justice to griffins. They looked like no creature Surplus had ever seen, and he could tell at a glance that they were swift as wildfire.
Fire Orchid bridled two of the steeds and threw a blanket over each in lieu of a saddle. Then she leaped up on one. “Well?” she said.
Surplus followed suit, flicked his reins in imitation of Fire Orchid, and almost lost his seat as the mountain horses bounded over the fence and up the mountainside.
Their steeds ran easily at first, and then, as Surplus grew surer of his seat, with increasing speed, until they were racing full-out, up the uneven terrain, weaving through the trees and leaping effortlessly over streams that appeared without warning before them. Wind in his face and pine scent in his nostrils, Surplus found himself whooping and howling for pure joy.
Up above the tree line they burst, where all was rock and lichen. Fire Orchid reined in her mountain horse and dismounted.
Surplus climbed down from his steed and stroked its mane. “You and I are going to be best friends,” he said.
“Hahhh!” it replied, and clacked its beak at him.
Fire Orchid released her mountain horse to graze and spread her saddle blanket on the ground, as if in preparation for a picnic. “Come sit next to me.” She patted the blanket.
“Shouldn’t we hobble our mountain horses? So they don’t wander off?”
“They are very smart. Aren’t you, girl?”
“Yahhh!” Her mount bounced its beaked head up and down, then turned its attention to the grasses and lichens.
So Surplus did as she bade him.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” Fire Orchid said. “As if you were my boyfriend. Yes, like that. See how nice I snuggle against you? Now. Talk to me about money.”
Assuming an expression of polite embarrassment, Surplus said, “Madam, there is none. Every penny the Hidden King had and all he could raise by mortgaging the resources of the Abundant Kingdom was spent on provisioning his army and resurrecting abominations from the past to employ as weapons. His soldiers are paid in promissory notes and the hope that there will be cities to sack.”
“I suspected as much when Vicious Brute did not return alone.” Fire Orchid placed her head against his shoulder. “Next question. Why are you here?”
“You and your family are a deceitful and dishonest batch. I say that with full respect. Vicious Brute told me you were villagers—yet no mere village can support a criminal dynasty. Such families are the flower of a large urban population. He implied you had seized the mountain horses by force, when such noble steeds as these would only be entrusted to the most warlike soldiers the army has, making such a feat improbable. My guess is that you are natives of Peace who bribed a corrupt official to leave the mountain horses unguarded one evening, then came here to negotiate their exchange for the advertised reward.”
“You are a very suspicious dog-man,” Fire Orchid murmured. She nuzzled her face in the side of his neck. “So if we are such bad sorts, why are you here?”
“I am here because I wish to recruit you—you and all of your family—into the army, to serve under my command.”
Fire Orchid drew away from Surplus. “I was not expecting that.”
“Madam, war is a fickle and unpredictable enterprise and one I hope to emerge from alive. A deceitful and ingenious crew of underlings would—”
Placing a finger against his lips, Fire Orchid said, “Shush. I understand everything now.”
“Thank you, I—what are you doing?”
Fire Orchid’s breath was warm against the side of his face and her hand, having slipped inside his trousers and seized a very intimate part of his body, moved slowly up and down. “You are a clever fellow,” she said. “I believe you will figure it out soon enough.”
Which, of course, he did.
* * *
AFTERWARD, FIRE Orchid lay back on the blanket, staring up at the stars. “I must be a very wicked woman to do such things with an animal-man like you.”
“On the contrary,” Surplus said. “It is not externalities that matter, but the soul that lies within. By looking beyond the superficial, you have displayed the nobility of your character.”
“No, I like being a bad woman.” She suddenly rolled over atop his prone body. Her eyes were bright and ruthless. “I think maybe I want to be wicked again. Even more wicked than I was before.”
So she was.
And then she was again.
And again.
Fire Orchid’s enthusiasm bordered on the rapacious. But then, Surplus reflected, she had long been in the mountains with no male company other than members of her own family, so that was understandable. As was, for similar reasons, his own avid response.
After they had both played each other to exhaustion, Fire Orchid sat up, a black silhouette against the cold, starry sky, and, looking down on Surplus, said, “I think maybe you should marry me.”
Alarmed, Surplus sat bolt upright. “Madam! We hardly know each other. Our relationship so far is based entirely on passion—and even so great a passion as ours is hardly a fit basis for a lifetime commitment.”
“Don’t you worry your doggy head about it,” Fire Orchid said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
5.
The Eternal Showman was known to observe that no battle was ever lost by underestimating the intelligence of the foe.
—THE SAYINGS OF THE PERFECT STRATEGIST
DARGER WAS covering a sheet of foolscap with meaningless mathematical symbols when he heard a great din outside his tent. Unhurriedly, he poured sand over the fresh ink and blew it away. Then he went outside to see what was the matter.
There he discovered that the entire camp had been thrown into an uproar by the arrival of Surplus at the head of a colorful company of rangers, all riding mountain horses. A woman whose long red hair flowed freely behind her like an ever-changing flame rode at the Dog Warrior’s side, with a giant of a man directly behind them. Swiftly and more smoothly than cavalry riding natural horses could have managed, they flowed between the tents, leaping over campfires and startled wagoners, drawing astonished soldiers into gaping crowds in their wake. Direct to Darger they rode, pulling up in a milling mass before him.
“Well, well, well,” Darger said. “What have you found?”
“Noble souls and bold fighters,” Surplus cried, “who wish nothing more than to serve the Hidden King!” This raised a loud enough cheer from those nearby that he was able to lean forward and without being overheard add, “A crew who know what the deal is, including several pickpockets, two lockpicks, a counterfeiter, a stable woman qualified in the care of mountain horses, a thimble rigger, a puppeteer, a quick-sketch artist, and a first-rate goon. Also, apparently, a fiancée.”
Darger cocked an eyebrow. “Should I congratulate you?”
“God only knows,” Surplus said. “I certainly don’t.”
The new company’s moment of glory was eclipsed, however, mere hours later when Prince First-Born Splendor returned from Gold, the capital of Southern Gate, at the head of two hundred cavalrymen. Though the force was small, the suddenness of its arrival, combined with the unexpected materialization of some twenty of the coveted mountain horses, caused an irrational sense of elation to spread through the camp.
The prince of Southern Gate paused at Darger’s tent to salute him with a free and gracious familiarity. Then he rode on, through the cheers of the onlookers.
“Listen to them,” Darger said gloomily. “The war is as good as won and they will be home in two weeks, covered with glory and never to go adventuring again—or so they think.” Capable Servant had set up umbrellas and folding chairs before his master’s tent and was now serving tea to Surplus, his red-haired second-in-command, and Darger. Vicious Brute was off negotiating with the quartermaster general for tents, weapons, and other provisions for the new recruits.
Fire Orchid drained her cup in a single gulp and held it out for more. “They forget that war is not just a bad thing. It is also an excellent opportunity to make money.” Surplus grinned, and Darger nodded in involuntary approval. “So long as we keep our wits about us, don’t get distracted by the chance to nab small profits, and have a long-term plan.” She leaned forward. “What is our long-term plan?”
“Well—”
At which inopportune moment, the messenger Darger had long anticipated arrived to announce that he was summoned to the Hidden King’s side. Where he had been expecting a minor functionary, however, the news came in the form of no less a personage than Cao White Squall galloping up on a sturdy mare and pulling it short at the last possible instant, so that clods of dirt went flying. “Irresponsible idler! Our troops die by the hundreds and yet you do nothing. The Hidden King demands to know what you are up to!”
There was no denying that the cao looked fetching in armor. The helmet shadowed her face, and within that shadow her eyes flashed like those of a wildcat peering from the depths of a tree, where it waited to ambush unwary prey. “Up to?” Darger said. “I spent the morning observing Ceo Powerful Locomotive’s employment of forces. Then I updated my mathematical analysis of the dynamic forces of the war. Now I am interviewing the leaders of the Dog Warrior’s newly created irregulars, to see how to best incorporate them into my plans.”
“As I suspected, you are doing nothing. You will come with me immediately.”
Fire Orchid studied White Squall, her face as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper. Darger could not help but approve of her self-control.
“I shall gather up my papers,” Darger said.
* * *
THE HIDDEN King was quartered in a palatial mansion to which the High Lord Hereditary Bureaucrat of Bronze habitually retreated, along with his concubines and catamites, to avoid the summer heat. Its caretakers had abandoned it on the approach of the Abundant Kingdom’s armies for the manor lay beyond the point where the Mountain Horses fortifications were to be built.
The summer palace was well guarded but still less than ideal for protecting a monarch whose death (it must surely have occurred to the enemy) would put an immediate end to the war. But Darger had observed that for all his personal quirks the Hidden King was not without physical courage.
At the entrance, Darger and White Squall were met by Ceo Powerful Locomotive, fresh from the battlefield and stinking of sweat and defeat. “It is the archaeologist who can find nothing worth digging up and the advisor who will not advise,” he grumbled. “How pleasant.”
For the past week, whenever called upon to voice his opinion, Darger had merely smiled, shaken his head, and replied, “Things progress as they must. All will work out in the end.” Now he said, “You should be grateful for my restraint. Many lesser advisors, mistaking your temporary setbacks for incompetence, have been speaking against you to the Hidden King. I, meanwhile, have merely urged him to wait and see.”
“You have not interfered with my work at all,” Ceo Powerful Locomotive admitted. “I find that most suspicious.”
Two guards materialized, bowed, and gestured for them to follow. As they walked, Darger said, “The incompetent man issues many orders so that he may look decisive, overrules subordinates in order to appear powerful, contradicts himself frequently so that no one dares act without his presence, spreads chaos and confusion so that others will be forced to look to him for alleviation of their misery. I am sure that you have dealt with his like in the past. I am not that man. My model is the ancient emperor who never issued a single order but nevertheless, by skillfully avoiding all bad decisions, deftly steered the state into an era of perfect prosperity.”
“I have never heard of such an emperor and strongly suspect—” the ceo began. Then, with a visible effort, he forced himself to cease chasing after this side issue. “Never mind your glib evasions and excuses! Each of you has failed me. Your toys,” he said to White Squall, “give me no advantage, while his advice is nonexistent.”
Effortlessly floating up so that Surplus had to throw his head back to meet her eyes, the lady then bent over almost double, so that their lips all but met. He saw now that what he had taken for her face was actually a mask and that there was nothing behind it. “I do not fear you,” he said, “or anything you might say.”
Gusts of laughter rose up out of nowhere, growing to a wind that shredded the fluttering robes like sheets of tissue paper and sent the mask tumbling away like a leaf.
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
YOU LIE, PUPPYKINS,
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
FOR WE KNOW WHY
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
YOU FLED FROM THE
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
LAND OF YOUR BIRTH.
weknowallyoursecretsanddarkestfears
“No!” Surplus cried and, throwing an arm before his eyes, found himself falling over backward into a sea of mocking laughter.
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
FRAGRANT TREE,
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
OH MOCK HERO—
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
TELL YOUR KING.
diesufferscreamdiesufferscream
* * *
“SIR?” VICIOUS Brute said. “Sir, are you well?”
Surplus shook himself. “Is the … lady … gone?”
“Lady, sir? No, sir. Nobody here but us. You touched one of them vines I warned you about and fell over and went into spasms for a bit. Then you woke up.”
“I saw…”
“Whatever you saw, it was an illusion, sir. Trust me. I know the spirits of this mountain and they never tell you a true word.”
“Well,” Surplus said. “A false vision, you say?” And again, “Well.” He shook himself and, with the aid of Vicious Brute, stood. All his flesh was pins and needles but he seemed to be unharmed. Surplus had already decided to share this strange event with no one—the Hidden King most emphatically included. In his experience, some messages were best left undelivered. “At any rate, I doubt it was of any import.”
They started up the trail again. At least an hour passed before Surplus asked, “Have we far to go?”
“No, sir, not really. We’re almost there.”
“Good.”
Up the darkening gorge they went, occasionally clambering over collapsed walls or splashing across the stream when their path switched sides. Until finally they came to a shallow slope covered with loose masonry and broken tiles. Clattering noisily, they made their way up and out of the ravine to find themselves in a clearing with a dozen or so rustic huts and lean-tos, crudely crafted from branches, rope, and straw.
At last they had come to the bandit camp.
The noise of their ascent had alerted the bandits of their approach. Some fifteen or sixteen rough-looking ruffians, many of them women and all armed with swords, pistols, and improvised clubs, had come out to confront them.
For a still instant, the two sides confronted each other in silence. Then a slim woman with hair as red as flame cried, “Little brother!” and ran into Vicious Brute’s arms. He lifted her up, bounced her down. On the ground again, she drew herself up, and he stepped back respectfully.
“You may kneel,” she said, “and report.”
But before Vicious Brute could do so, Surplus stepped forward and said, “Your brother is now a soldier of the Abundant Kingdom, in the pay of the Hidden King, and so of course he is not free to kneel before anyone outside of his proper chain of command.” To lessen the sting of his words, he smiled. “You are clearly the leader of this group of unallied commandos. If I may ask, your name is—?”
“Fire Orchid.” The bandit leader studied him, as if he were some species of large and unattractive bug. “Who—and what—are you?”
Surplus formally introduced himself, adding, “As to what I am, I have, in my day, played many parts.” Turning casually to his donkey, Surplus began untying the saddlebags. “I am a gentleman, an adventurer, a wanderer, and a soldier of fortune. Currently, I am acting as an emissary for the Hidden King, whose destiny washes over these lands as irresistibly as the tides. Of that, we shall speak later. For the moment, what matters most is that I have brought food.” He lightly tossed a cured ham to the nearest brigand, who dropped a broken rake handle to catch it. “Food enough for a feast.” He produced bottles of liquor and distributed them to eager hands. “Since I came here uninvited, it seems only fair that I feed you so that we may afterward converse as friends.”
Fire Orchid did not look at all pleased. But she only said, “Very well. We can, as you say, talk afterward.”
* * *
BY THE time the last of the food was cooked and eaten, night had fallen and the bandits had made most of the booze disappear. Surplus himself ate abstemiously and drank not at all, bringing the cup to his mouth frequently but only pretending to sip from it. Left alone with his thoughts, he found himself puzzling over the significance of the mysterious apparition he had seen earlier. So it was startling to look up and realize that the feast was over. Some of the bandits were staggering about in what might be a dance. Others lay drunkenly on the ground. Three of them were singing almost the same song. And Fire Orchid was staring at him intently from the other side of the fire. When their eyes met, she came over and sat down beside him, cross-legged. With her high boots and tight trousers, loose tunic, multiple silver bracelets, and the silk scarf tied about her neck, she looked the very prototype of a bandit queen. Her hair shifted colors in the firelight. “You aren’t drinking,” she said.
“Nor you,” Surplus observed, “though you pretended to fill your cup frequently and occasionally surreptitiously emptied it in the weeds.”
“I think maybe it is time for me to show you what I have to offer.”
“I am at your disposal, madam.”
The mountain horses were kept in a nearby grassy sward, surrounded by a chest-high pole fence. Surplus and Fire Orchid stood for a while, watching them crop grass. They were everything they were reputed to be, chimerical creatures with the size and beauty of unaltered horses, the legs and paws of some enormous triple-jointed cat, and beaks that would have done justice to griffins. They looked like no creature Surplus had ever seen, and he could tell at a glance that they were swift as wildfire.
Fire Orchid bridled two of the steeds and threw a blanket over each in lieu of a saddle. Then she leaped up on one. “Well?” she said.
Surplus followed suit, flicked his reins in imitation of Fire Orchid, and almost lost his seat as the mountain horses bounded over the fence and up the mountainside.
Their steeds ran easily at first, and then, as Surplus grew surer of his seat, with increasing speed, until they were racing full-out, up the uneven terrain, weaving through the trees and leaping effortlessly over streams that appeared without warning before them. Wind in his face and pine scent in his nostrils, Surplus found himself whooping and howling for pure joy.
Up above the tree line they burst, where all was rock and lichen. Fire Orchid reined in her mountain horse and dismounted.
Surplus climbed down from his steed and stroked its mane. “You and I are going to be best friends,” he said.
“Hahhh!” it replied, and clacked its beak at him.
Fire Orchid released her mountain horse to graze and spread her saddle blanket on the ground, as if in preparation for a picnic. “Come sit next to me.” She patted the blanket.
“Shouldn’t we hobble our mountain horses? So they don’t wander off?”
“They are very smart. Aren’t you, girl?”
“Yahhh!” Her mount bounced its beaked head up and down, then turned its attention to the grasses and lichens.
So Surplus did as she bade him.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” Fire Orchid said. “As if you were my boyfriend. Yes, like that. See how nice I snuggle against you? Now. Talk to me about money.”
Assuming an expression of polite embarrassment, Surplus said, “Madam, there is none. Every penny the Hidden King had and all he could raise by mortgaging the resources of the Abundant Kingdom was spent on provisioning his army and resurrecting abominations from the past to employ as weapons. His soldiers are paid in promissory notes and the hope that there will be cities to sack.”
“I suspected as much when Vicious Brute did not return alone.” Fire Orchid placed her head against his shoulder. “Next question. Why are you here?”
“You and your family are a deceitful and dishonest batch. I say that with full respect. Vicious Brute told me you were villagers—yet no mere village can support a criminal dynasty. Such families are the flower of a large urban population. He implied you had seized the mountain horses by force, when such noble steeds as these would only be entrusted to the most warlike soldiers the army has, making such a feat improbable. My guess is that you are natives of Peace who bribed a corrupt official to leave the mountain horses unguarded one evening, then came here to negotiate their exchange for the advertised reward.”
“You are a very suspicious dog-man,” Fire Orchid murmured. She nuzzled her face in the side of his neck. “So if we are such bad sorts, why are you here?”
“I am here because I wish to recruit you—you and all of your family—into the army, to serve under my command.”
Fire Orchid drew away from Surplus. “I was not expecting that.”
“Madam, war is a fickle and unpredictable enterprise and one I hope to emerge from alive. A deceitful and ingenious crew of underlings would—”
Placing a finger against his lips, Fire Orchid said, “Shush. I understand everything now.”
“Thank you, I—what are you doing?”
Fire Orchid’s breath was warm against the side of his face and her hand, having slipped inside his trousers and seized a very intimate part of his body, moved slowly up and down. “You are a clever fellow,” she said. “I believe you will figure it out soon enough.”
Which, of course, he did.
* * *
AFTERWARD, FIRE Orchid lay back on the blanket, staring up at the stars. “I must be a very wicked woman to do such things with an animal-man like you.”
“On the contrary,” Surplus said. “It is not externalities that matter, but the soul that lies within. By looking beyond the superficial, you have displayed the nobility of your character.”
“No, I like being a bad woman.” She suddenly rolled over atop his prone body. Her eyes were bright and ruthless. “I think maybe I want to be wicked again. Even more wicked than I was before.”
So she was.
And then she was again.
And again.
Fire Orchid’s enthusiasm bordered on the rapacious. But then, Surplus reflected, she had long been in the mountains with no male company other than members of her own family, so that was understandable. As was, for similar reasons, his own avid response.
After they had both played each other to exhaustion, Fire Orchid sat up, a black silhouette against the cold, starry sky, and, looking down on Surplus, said, “I think maybe you should marry me.”
Alarmed, Surplus sat bolt upright. “Madam! We hardly know each other. Our relationship so far is based entirely on passion—and even so great a passion as ours is hardly a fit basis for a lifetime commitment.”
“Don’t you worry your doggy head about it,” Fire Orchid said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
5.
The Eternal Showman was known to observe that no battle was ever lost by underestimating the intelligence of the foe.
—THE SAYINGS OF THE PERFECT STRATEGIST
DARGER WAS covering a sheet of foolscap with meaningless mathematical symbols when he heard a great din outside his tent. Unhurriedly, he poured sand over the fresh ink and blew it away. Then he went outside to see what was the matter.
There he discovered that the entire camp had been thrown into an uproar by the arrival of Surplus at the head of a colorful company of rangers, all riding mountain horses. A woman whose long red hair flowed freely behind her like an ever-changing flame rode at the Dog Warrior’s side, with a giant of a man directly behind them. Swiftly and more smoothly than cavalry riding natural horses could have managed, they flowed between the tents, leaping over campfires and startled wagoners, drawing astonished soldiers into gaping crowds in their wake. Direct to Darger they rode, pulling up in a milling mass before him.
“Well, well, well,” Darger said. “What have you found?”
“Noble souls and bold fighters,” Surplus cried, “who wish nothing more than to serve the Hidden King!” This raised a loud enough cheer from those nearby that he was able to lean forward and without being overheard add, “A crew who know what the deal is, including several pickpockets, two lockpicks, a counterfeiter, a stable woman qualified in the care of mountain horses, a thimble rigger, a puppeteer, a quick-sketch artist, and a first-rate goon. Also, apparently, a fiancée.”
Darger cocked an eyebrow. “Should I congratulate you?”
“God only knows,” Surplus said. “I certainly don’t.”
The new company’s moment of glory was eclipsed, however, mere hours later when Prince First-Born Splendor returned from Gold, the capital of Southern Gate, at the head of two hundred cavalrymen. Though the force was small, the suddenness of its arrival, combined with the unexpected materialization of some twenty of the coveted mountain horses, caused an irrational sense of elation to spread through the camp.
The prince of Southern Gate paused at Darger’s tent to salute him with a free and gracious familiarity. Then he rode on, through the cheers of the onlookers.
“Listen to them,” Darger said gloomily. “The war is as good as won and they will be home in two weeks, covered with glory and never to go adventuring again—or so they think.” Capable Servant had set up umbrellas and folding chairs before his master’s tent and was now serving tea to Surplus, his red-haired second-in-command, and Darger. Vicious Brute was off negotiating with the quartermaster general for tents, weapons, and other provisions for the new recruits.
Fire Orchid drained her cup in a single gulp and held it out for more. “They forget that war is not just a bad thing. It is also an excellent opportunity to make money.” Surplus grinned, and Darger nodded in involuntary approval. “So long as we keep our wits about us, don’t get distracted by the chance to nab small profits, and have a long-term plan.” She leaned forward. “What is our long-term plan?”
“Well—”
At which inopportune moment, the messenger Darger had long anticipated arrived to announce that he was summoned to the Hidden King’s side. Where he had been expecting a minor functionary, however, the news came in the form of no less a personage than Cao White Squall galloping up on a sturdy mare and pulling it short at the last possible instant, so that clods of dirt went flying. “Irresponsible idler! Our troops die by the hundreds and yet you do nothing. The Hidden King demands to know what you are up to!”
There was no denying that the cao looked fetching in armor. The helmet shadowed her face, and within that shadow her eyes flashed like those of a wildcat peering from the depths of a tree, where it waited to ambush unwary prey. “Up to?” Darger said. “I spent the morning observing Ceo Powerful Locomotive’s employment of forces. Then I updated my mathematical analysis of the dynamic forces of the war. Now I am interviewing the leaders of the Dog Warrior’s newly created irregulars, to see how to best incorporate them into my plans.”
“As I suspected, you are doing nothing. You will come with me immediately.”
Fire Orchid studied White Squall, her face as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper. Darger could not help but approve of her self-control.
“I shall gather up my papers,” Darger said.
* * *
THE HIDDEN King was quartered in a palatial mansion to which the High Lord Hereditary Bureaucrat of Bronze habitually retreated, along with his concubines and catamites, to avoid the summer heat. Its caretakers had abandoned it on the approach of the Abundant Kingdom’s armies for the manor lay beyond the point where the Mountain Horses fortifications were to be built.
The summer palace was well guarded but still less than ideal for protecting a monarch whose death (it must surely have occurred to the enemy) would put an immediate end to the war. But Darger had observed that for all his personal quirks the Hidden King was not without physical courage.
At the entrance, Darger and White Squall were met by Ceo Powerful Locomotive, fresh from the battlefield and stinking of sweat and defeat. “It is the archaeologist who can find nothing worth digging up and the advisor who will not advise,” he grumbled. “How pleasant.”
For the past week, whenever called upon to voice his opinion, Darger had merely smiled, shaken his head, and replied, “Things progress as they must. All will work out in the end.” Now he said, “You should be grateful for my restraint. Many lesser advisors, mistaking your temporary setbacks for incompetence, have been speaking against you to the Hidden King. I, meanwhile, have merely urged him to wait and see.”
“You have not interfered with my work at all,” Ceo Powerful Locomotive admitted. “I find that most suspicious.”
Two guards materialized, bowed, and gestured for them to follow. As they walked, Darger said, “The incompetent man issues many orders so that he may look decisive, overrules subordinates in order to appear powerful, contradicts himself frequently so that no one dares act without his presence, spreads chaos and confusion so that others will be forced to look to him for alleviation of their misery. I am sure that you have dealt with his like in the past. I am not that man. My model is the ancient emperor who never issued a single order but nevertheless, by skillfully avoiding all bad decisions, deftly steered the state into an era of perfect prosperity.”
“I have never heard of such an emperor and strongly suspect—” the ceo began. Then, with a visible effort, he forced himself to cease chasing after this side issue. “Never mind your glib evasions and excuses! Each of you has failed me. Your toys,” he said to White Squall, “give me no advantage, while his advice is nonexistent.”
