“But three
days out of Bas-Tyra, a fleet of Ceresian pirates took out after us.
I’d be willing to take on two, even three of the bastards, but
five? The
Swallow
was a fast lady, but the pirates stayed
right on her heels. For four days it was all clear skies, unlimited
visibility, and fair winds. For Kingdom Sea pirates, they were a
canny lot. They spread out across each following quarter, so I
couldn’t lose them at night. Each night I’d sail around,
this way and that, then come morning, there’d be five sails on
the horizon. They were like lampreys. I couldn’t shake them.
Then we hit weather. A line squall came roaring out of the west,
driving us east for a day and a half, then a full gale blew up
carrying us north along uncharted coast. The only good thing about
that storm is we shook loose of the Ceresians at last. By the time I
found safe harbour, we were in waters I’d never heard of, let
alone seen.
“We lay up
and took stock. The ship was in need of some repair, not serious
enough to sink her, but enough to make sailing damned inconvenient. I
took her up a big river, must have been somewhere east of the Kingdom
proper.
“Well, the
second night we were at anchor, a damn army of goblins swarmed the
ship, killing the sentries and capturing the rest of us. Bastards
fired the
Swallow
and burned her down to the waterline. Then
they marched us to a camp in the woods where some Dark Brothers were
waiting. They took charge of us and we were all marched north.
“The lads
I’d recruited were a crusty lot, but most of them died on the
march. Damn goblins didn’t care spit. We got almost nothing to
eat, and if a man took sick and couldn’t walk, they killed him
on the spot. I got a touch of the belly flux and Guy and Armand
carried me for two days, and believe me that wasn’t pleasant
for any of us.
“We moved
northwest, heading up into the mountains, then over them. Lucky for
us it was late summer, or we’d all have frozen to death. Still,
it was touch and go. Then we met with some other Dark Brothers with
more prisoners. Most of the prisoners spoke an odd tongue, a lot like
Yabonese, but a few others spoke the King’s Tongue, or
languages from the eastern kingdoms.
“Twice
more we joined with other bands of Brothers with human prisoners, all
marching west. I lost track of the time, but we must have travelled
for over two months by then. By the time we were ready to cross the
plain - which I now know to be the plain of Isbandia, it was starting
to snow. I know where we were headed now, though then I didn’t.
Murmandamus was gathering slaves at Sar-Sargoth to pull his siege
machines.
“Then one
night our guards were hit by a company of horsemen from here. Of the
two hundred or so slaves, only twenty survived, for the goblins and
Dark Brothers took to killing us as soon as the horsemen struck the
camp. Guy strangled one with his chains as it tried to run me through
with a sword. I picked up the sword and killed another just after it
clawed the Protector’s eye out. Armand was wounded but not
quite enough to kill him. He’s a tough bastard. But we three
and two others were the only survivors from the
Swallow
.
“From
there we were brought here.”
Arutha said, “An
incredible tale.” He sat back against the wall. “Still,
these are incredible times.”
Martin said,
“How is it an outlander came to rule here?”
Amos took
another drink. “These are a strange folk, Martin. As honest and
fine as you’ll find anywhere, in some ways, but they’re
as alien as those Tsurani in other ways. They have no hereditary rank
here, instead placing great store in ability. Within a few months it
was clear Guy was a first-rate general, so they gave him a company to
command. Armand and I served under him. Within a few more months it
was clear he was by far the best commander they had. They’ve
got nothing like the Congress of Lords here, Arutha. When something
needs to be decided, they call everyone into a meeting in the great
square, where the market’s held. They call the meeting the
volksraad, and they all vote. Otherwise, all decisions are left to
those elected by the volksraad. They summoned Guy and told him he was
now Protector of Armengar. It’s like being named the King’s
Marshal, but also something like being responsible for the safety of
the city as well, a chief sheriff, constable, reeve, and bailiff all
rolled up in one.”
Arutha said,
“What did the previous Protector think of this?”
“She must
have thought it was a good idea; she proposed it.”
“She?”
said Jimmy.
Amos said,
“That’s another thing around here takes a bit of getting
used to. Women. They’re just like men. I mean when it comes to
giving and taking orders, voting in the volksraad . . . other things.
You’ll see.” Amos’s expression got distant. “Her
name was Gwynnath. She was as fine a woman as I’ve met. I’m
not ashamed to admit I was a little in love with her myself, though”
- his tone turned a little lighter - “I’ll never settle
down. But if I ever did, that’s the sort for me.” He
looked down into his ale mug. “But she and Guy . . . I know
some things about him, learned slowly over the last two years,
Arutha. I can’t betray a trust. If he tells you himself, fine.
But let’s say they were something like man and wife there at
the end, deeply in love. She was the one to step aside and turn over
her city to him. She would have died for him. And he for her. She
rode beside him and fought like a lioness.” His voice softened.
“She died yesterday.”
Arutha and
Martin exchanged looks with the others. Baru and Roald remained
silent. Laurie thought of Carline and shivered. Even the boys could
sense something of the loss Amos felt. Arutha remembered what Amos
had said to Armand just before they had met Guy. “And Guy
blames himself.”
“Yes.
One-eye’s much like any good captain: if it happened under his
command, it’s his responsibility.” Amos sat back, his
face a thoughtful mask. “The goblins and the Armengarians used
to keep things pretty simple for a long time. Run out, break a few
heads, then retreat. The Armengarians were a lot like the Tsurani,
fierce warriors, but no real organization. But when Murmandamus
showed up, the Brothers got downright organized, even to the company
level. Now they can coordinate two, three thousand warriors under a
single commander. The Brotherhood was punishing the Armengarians
regularly when we showed up. Guy proved a blessing to the
Armengarians, knowing modern warcraft. He’s trained them, and
now they’re damn good cavalry and fair mounted infantry, though
getting an Armengarian off his horse can be a chore. Still, Guy makes
progress. They’re back to holding their own with the Brothers.
But yesterday . . .” Nobody spoke for a long while.
Martin said, “We
have some serious matters to discuss, Amos. You know we wouldn’t
be here unless something of the gravest consequence was happening in
the Kingdom.”
“Well,
I’ll let you alone for a while. You were good companions, and I
know you to be honourable men.” He got to his feet. “But
one thing more. The Protector is the most powerful man in the city,
but even his power is limited to matters of safety for Armengar. If
he said he’d an old debt with you, no one would interfere while
you fought a duel, man to man. If you won, you’d be cut loose
to make your own way and no one in the city’d raise a hand
against you. But all he has to do is to call you spies and you’d
be dead before you turned around. Arutha, Martin, I know there’s
bad blood between you and Guy, because of your father, and because of
Erland. And I now know some of what lay behind that. I’ll leave
that for Guy to sort out with you in time. But you must know
something of how the weather turns up here. You are free to come and
go as long as you don’t break a law, or as long as Guy doesn’t
order you tossed out, or hung, or whatever. But he takes the
responsibility. He guarantees your good behaviour, all of you. If you
betray the city, his life is forfeit along with your own. As I said,
these folk can be fairly strange in their way, and their ways can be
harsh. So understand what I say when I tell you this: betray Guy’s
trust, even if you think it’s for the good of the Kingdom, and
these people will kill you. And I’m not sure I’d even try
to stop them.”
“You know
we’d not break trust, Amos,” answered Martin.
“I know,
but I wanted you to understand how strongly I feel. I’m fond of
both you lads, and would dislike seeing your throats cut almost as
much as you would.” Saying nothing more, Amos left.
Arutha settled
back, considering all that Amos had told him, and suddenly realized
he was bone-tired. He looked to Martin and his brother nodded. No
further discussion was required. Arutha knew he would tell the
complete story to Guy in the morning.
Arutha and his
companions waited as the lift rose, then halted at the floor of the
Protector’s council room. It had been late morning, almost
noon, before the call to Guy’s council had arrived. They walked
a short way down the hall, then stopped. The guard who had come for
them waited while they stared out the window in wonder at the vista
below. Armengar spread out beyond the moat about the citadel and
across the open market, to the huge city wall. But beyond the wall
they could see a vast plain stretching northeast into the distant
mist. On either side of the city the mountains rose high into the
heavens. From the west white billowing clouds blew through a deep
blue sky, as amber-highlighted green grasses stretched away to the
limit of their view. It was an incredible view. Jimmy glanced over
and saw a strange expression on Locklear’s face. “What?”
“I was
just thinking about all that land,” he said, pointing toward
the plain.
“What
about it?” asked Arutha.
“You could
grow a lot on such land.”
Martin let his
gaze wander the horizon. “Enough wheat to feed the Western
Realm,” he commented.
Jimmy said,
“You, a farmer?”
Locklear
grinned. “What do you think a baron does in a small place like
Land’s End? Mostly he settles squabbles between farmers, or
sets fair taxes on crops. You have to know about such things.”
The guard said,
“Come, the Protector waits.”
As Arutha and
his companions entered, Guy looked up. With him were Amos, Dwyne,
Armand de Sevigny, and a woman. Arutha looked at his brother and saw
that Martin had halted in his tracks. The Duke of Crydee was staring
at the woman in unabashed appreciation. Arutha touched Martin’s
arm and he moved to follow his brother. Arutha glanced at the woman
again, and could appreciate his brother’s distraction. At first
blush, she seemed a plain-looking woman, but as soon as she moved,
her bearing added another dimension to her appearance. She was
striking. She wore leather armour, brown tunic and trousers, like
most of the others in the city. But the bulky covering couldn’t
disguise the fact she was trimly built, and her carriage was erect,
even regal. Her hair was deep brown, with a startling streak of grey
at the left temple, and was tied back with a rolled green scarf, and
her eyes were blue. And from the red-rimmed state of those eyes, it
was clear she had been crying.
Guy indicated
that Arutha and his companions should sit. Arutha introduced
everyone, and Guy in turn said, “You know Amos and Armand. This
is Briana” - he indicated the woman – “one of my
commanders.” Arutha nodded, but saw the woman had recovered
from whatever had caused her to cry and was returning Martin’s
appraising look.
Quickly, with
economy, Arutha told Guy his story, starting with the return from the
long trip with Lyam to the East, then of the first attack by the
Nighthawks, through the revelations at the Abbey at Sarth and the
quest for Silverthorn, to the false death of the Prince of Krondor.
He ended by saying, “To end it, we’ve come to kill
Murmandamus.”
At that, Guy
shook his head in disbelief. “Cousin, it’s a bold plan,
but . . .” He turned to Armand. “How many infiltrators
have we tried to get into his camp?”
“Six?”
“Seven,”
said Briana.
“But they
weren’t Kingdom men, were they?” asked Jimmy, taking out
an ebon hawk on a chain. “And they didn’t carry the
Nighthawks’ talisman, did they.”
Guy looked at
Jimmy in near-exasperation. “Armand?”
The former Baron
of Gyldenholt opened a drawer in a cabinet and took out a pouch. He
untied the pouch and poured a half dozen of the talismans on the
table. “We’ve tried it, Squire. And yes, some were
Kingdom men, for there are always a few among those saved by the
Armengarians when they raided the Brothers’ slave coffles. No,
there’s something missing. They know who the true brigands are
and who are spies.”
Arutha said,
“Magic, most likely.”
Guy said,
“That’s a problem we’ve faced before. We number no
spellcasters, whether magicians or priests, in this city. It seems
constant warfare, with everyone expected to fight, does not permit
the sort of placidity such study requires - or it kills off all the
teachers. But whatever the reason, on those few occasions when
Murmandamus or his snake has taken a hand, we’ve paid a dear
price.” He added thoughtfully, “Though for some reason he
seems reluctant to use his powers against us, thank the gods.”
Guy sat back.
“You and I share an interest, cousin. To give you some sense of
it, let me tell you about this place. You know that the ancestors of
the Armengarians came over the mountains when the Kingdom annexed
Yabon. They discovered a rich land, but one already inhabited, and
those who were here first tended to look upon the incursion of the
Armengarians with disfavour. Briana, who built this city?”
The woman spoke,
her voice a soft contralto. “The legend is that the gods
ordered a race of giants to build this city, then left it abandoned.
We took it as we found it.”