Ghost in the Pact (30 page)

It was all Caina could do not to scream.

“Careful,” said Caina instead, keeping her voice icy. “Sneaking up on people like that is liable to get you stabbed.”

“I’ve found,” said Kalgri, “rather the opposite to be true.” 

“Let’s go,” said Caina. “Since you’re so good at creeping up on people, why don’t you scout the way?”

“I assume you know the way to the Tomb?” said Callatas.

“All too well,” said Caina. “We’ll want to avoid the road with the sphinxes. Likely the nagataaru will start their search there.”

Kalgri grinned and melted into the darkness, and they set off into the gloomy jungle.

Chapter 16: The Grand Wazir

As the sun rose, the drums boomed across the steppes, and the distant wail of the war horns rang out. The emotional aura of the thousands of men around Kylon tightened, and he sensed the fear and dread growing within them, accompanied by bloodlust and a steely resolve to stand before the danger. 

The battle, he expected, would start today, possibly within an hour.

That meant that thousands of men might be dead by afternoon. 

Kylon hastened through the camp. 

The camp itself unfolded around them, men rushing to join their captains, the lords and officers shouting orders to their men. A band of horsemen galloped past, and Kylon sidestepped to allow them passage. The drums of Tanzir’s army rolled out, calling the army to battle formation. Kylon jogged to the north, heading for where Tanzir and Sulaman raised their banners. If the Huntress wanted to kill the leadership of the rebel army, this was the logical time to do it. Kylon kept his arcane senses extended, feeling the fear and resolve of the rousing army. 

Yet he felt no trace of the Huntress.

More and more, Kylon wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. Caina had been certain that the Red Huntress would come after Sulaman, and Kylon had agreed. Yet there had been no trace of her at all, and Kylon began to fear that the Huntress had accompanied Callatas to Pyramid Isle. 

The dread gnawed at him, but Kylon could do nothing about it. All his attention was needed here. Even if the Huntress was hundreds of miles away, this battle still hung in the balance. 

That, and Rhataban might kill the leadership of the army himself. He was as lethal as the Huntress, and Kylon had defeated the Master Alchemist through luck during their first encounter. He knew better than to trust to luck for their second fight. 

Kylon spotted Strabane striding towards Tanzir’s banner, flanked by a dozen of his Kaltari warriors, the skulls hanging from their belts clicking and tapping as they walked. Kylon ran to join them, and Strabane raised his hand in greeting.

“Lord Kylon!” called Strabane. “Come join us! We shall soon have fighting enough, and the Kaltari would be pleased to fight alongside you.”

“I need to remain near the prince and the emir,” said Kylon, “if the Huntress comes for them.”

“Or Rhataban,” said Strabane. “That man could win the battle on his own.”

“Aye,” said Kylon.

Strabane grunted. “Unless you kill him first.” 

“Or he kills me first,” said Kylon.

Strabane laughed. “Maybe, maybe. Battles make everything simple, do they not? Kill or be killed.”

“The drums,” said Kylon. “We’ve seen the Grand Wazir’s army?”

“I assume so,” said Strabane. “We’ll know soon enough.” Again Tanzir’s drums boomed out. “That’s the call for battle assembly. The emir wouldn’t call for battle assembly unless we saw the enemy.”

“Bad place for it,” said Kylon. The Trabazon steppes were mostly flat, but here and there wide ravines marked the plains. Last night the rebel army had camped alongside one of those ravines, a deep V-shaped gash in the earth, its sides lined with weathered boulders. That kept any enemies from approaching the army from the west, but it also meant a clever commander could pin the rebels against that ravine. Erghulan Amirasku did not seem that clever.

Maybe Rhataban was. 

Strabane shrugged, and they reached the heart of the camp. As before, Tanzir and Sulaman and the chief captains of the host had placed their tents upon a low hill. With the flat plains around them, it commanded an excellent view. From the hill’s top Kylon saw the army arranging itself battle. The Kaltari warriors and the southern militia formed up in the center, bristling with sword and spear and shield. Before them waited the tribes of Istarish nomads upon their horses, short bows ready. On the left and the right wings gathered the heavy horsemen, the guards of the emirs themselves and the mercenary companies Tanzir had hired. Most of Kylon’s experience of war had been aboard ships, but he saw Tanzir’s and Nasser’s plan well enough. The Istarish skirmishers would draw the enemy in, and the Kaltari and the footmen would meet them. Once the enemy footmen had committed, the heavy horse could charge and break their lines. It was a good plan, and Kylon saw Nasser’s and Martin’s hands in it.

A good plan…but only if the enemy cooperated.

Kylon doubted that the Grand Wazir would oblige.

To the north, perhaps three miles away, he saw the advancing mass of the Grand Wazir’s army. At this distance the masses of troops were indistinct blurs, but Kylon picked out their formations. The Immortals massed in the center, thousands of them. Behind them came lighter infantry in spiked helmets and chain mail, veterans from Istarinmul’s wars who had remained loyal to the Grand Wazir. On either side of the infantry waited wings of heavy horsemen, emirs and their personal guards, armed with spear and lance and sword.

It was a formidable force, but the activity behind it concerned Kylon even more.

The Grand Wazir’s engineers were constructing catapults. That in itself was not alarming. Catapults were a danger, but they were difficult to aim and in the fluid conditions of a battle, were as much a danger to their own men as to the enemy. Yet Kylon had seen the Grand Wazir’s men pulling carts of Hellfire, and Tibraim’s scouts had spotted hundreds of amphorae of Hellfire in the Grand Wazir’s supply train, all of it guarded by Immortals and Alchemists. That much Hellfire, unleashed at a charging army, could decide the battle. Tanzir’s army had a smaller supply of Hellfire, stolen from the fortresses in southern Istarinmul, but the rebels had planned to hold it in reserve for the siege of the city. 

Without the Hellfire engines, Kylon thought Tanzir’s army had a solid chance of defeating the Grand Wazir. But with those engines in the mix…

He shook his head and followed Strabane to the emir’s banner. Tanzir Shahan stood there, wearing his armor, not far from Sulaman and Mazyan. Gathered around them was Nasser, Laertes, Lord Martin, Lady Claudia, Kazravid, Shopur, and the other chief commanders of the army. 

“My lord headman,” said Tanzir. “Thank you for coming.”

Strabane grunted. “I wouldn’t want to miss a fight.” 

“It seems,” said Nasser, calm as ever, “that the enemy stole a march on us. Likely the Grand Wazir marched his troops through the night, and formed up in battle array once the scouts spotted us.” 

“At least his troops will be tired from the march,” said Kazravid, “and ours shall be fresh.”

“Hellfire doesn’t care if a man’s exhausted or wide-awake when it burns him,” said Strabane. 

“It does not,” said Sulaman. “It is the most terrible weapon the Alchemists of the College ever devised. For it to be used against the sons of Istarinmul is grievous indeed.” 

“But it seems to me,” said Tanzir, “that our enemy has made a mistake.”

“Oh?” said Nasser. “How so?”

“The catapults,” said Tanzir, waving an armored hand at the distant shapes. The enemy engineers had assembled six of the catapults, and Kylon saw carts of Hellfire amphorae waiting next to each of the siege engines. “Catapults like that have a limited range…ah…”

“For a missile the size of an amphora of Hellfire, about a mile or so, my lord,” said Laertes. “A shorter distance if they want to throw multiple amphorae at once. Likely they will.” 

“In effect, they have pinned themselves in place with their weapons,” said Tanzir. “They will want to fight within range of them, so they can bring the Hellfire to bear against our men. That means we can be sure they will not venture more than a mile from their catapults, not unless we force them to do so.” 

“I agree,” said Martin. 

Kylon nodded, a little surprised. He had missed that himself, but Tanzir’s logic rang true. Caina had spoken well of Tanzir’s intellect, but Kylon had not been entirely convinced the emir’s talents extended to practical matters. It seemed that Caina’s judgment had been correct. 

“How do you suggest we proceed, then?” said Sulaman. 

“I am open to suggestions,” said Tanzir.

“It seems like the Grand Wazir is treating his catapults like a fortress,” said Strabane. “That means this is a siege. Send the Istarish nomads to harass them, and bands of Kaltari to raid them. We can move fast enough to escape and avoid the Hellfire engines, and sooner or later we will provoke the enemy into a rash response. Then we can take them.” 

“Caution would be best, though,” said Nasser. “The Grand Wazir may be trying to lure us into a clever trap.”

Martin snorted. “The Grand Wazir isn’t that clever.”

“No, I fear he is not,” said Tanzir. “One of his advisors may be, though. Is he planning something sorcerous, perhaps?”

“I have not detected any spells from the army,” said Claudia. She had donned chain mail and leather armor over her riding gown. Kylon sensed irritation in her emotional sense, but she had to recognize the necessity of armor.

“Nor have I,” said Kylon. 

“Very well,” said Tanzir, rubbing his jaw. He looked older for a moment. Kylon recognized that expression. He had ordered men to their deaths before, and he knew what it felt like. “Headman, your plan seems good to me, so we shall pursue it. Once the army has moved into battle formation, we shall select bands of Istarish nomads and Kaltari warriors to…”

“Wait,” said Kazravid. “My lord emir, they are doing something.” 

A band of horsemen rode from the enemy lines, flanked by a score of Immortals. The lead rider flew the Padishah’s banner, and below that rippled the personal banner of Erghulan Amirasku, Grand Wazir of Istarinmul. One of the horsemen wore white armor, a brilliant white cloak streaming from his shoulders. Even from a distance, Kylon recognized the Master Alchemist Rhataban. 

He also started to feel the malice of the nagataaru housed in the Master Alchemist’s flesh. 

“I think,” said Martin, shielding his eyes, “I think that is Erghulan himself.” 

One of the other horsemen raised a lance, and a white banner billowed from its end. 

“A parley,” said Tanzir. “It seems that the Grand Wazir wishes to speak.”

“Come forth!” thundered a voice from the band of horsemen. The voice was faint, but audible. Likely Rhataban was using a spell to augment the herald’s voice. “Come forth! Erghulan Amirasku, Grand Wazir of Istarinmul and Captain of the Towers of the Sea, invites the emir Tanzir Shahan and his allies to come forth in parley. Your safety is guaranteed by the solemn oath of the Grand Wazir.”

For a moment no one said anything, and then the herald started to repeat his message. 

“The solemn oath of the Grand Wazir,” said Kylon, “means nothing at all. He is Callatas’s puppet and nothing more. Likely Rhataban is holding his strings.”

“I know,” said Tanzir, face grim. 

“Yet Lord Tanzir cannot refuse the invitation to parley,” said Nasser. “To do so would be an admission of cowardice.” 

“It would also,” said Kylon, “but a perfect opportunity for the Red Huntress to strike.”

“I know,” said Tanzir, taking a deep breath. “Lord Kylon, I request that you accompany me to the parley. If the Red Huntress reveals herself, you are the one among us with the best chance of overcoming her.” 

“I shall accompany you as well, with your permission,” said Nasser, and Laertes nodded. “The Huntress and I have crossed swords before.” 

“And I, as well,” said Sulaman.

“Forgive me, lord prince, but is that wise?” said Tanzir.

“It’s not,” said Nasser at once. “Your presence, Prince Kutal Sulaman, provides legitimacy to this entire army If you are slain, we go from loyal men supporting the legitimate ruler of Istarinmul to a band of rebels rampaging through the countryside.”

“It is not wise,” said Sulaman, “but it is necessary. If I am to ask men to die fighting for me, then I cannot turn away from the same risk. That, and we have an advantage.” He gestured at Mazyan. “My Oath Shadow will accompany us. Both you and Lord Kylon have seen his prowess in combat. If the Huntress chooses this moment to strike, Mazyan’s aid may be invaluable.”

Kylon started to object, but fell silent. Sulaman had a point. Mazyan had carved his way through the Immortals at the Desert Maiden with ease. If Kylon was to fight the Huntress again, he would prefer to have both Mazyan and Nasser at his side.

Or if he had to fight Rhataban again, for that matter. 

“Very well,” said Tanzir. “Strabane, Shopur. Choose an escort from your soldiers. We will meet the Grand Wazir, and see what he has to say.” 

The escort assembled, and Tanzir, Sulaman, Mazyan, Nasser, and Laertes rode out from the army, Laertes holding a lance flying a white banner. A troop of Kaltari warriors and mercenary horsemen accompanied the captains, and Kylon walked alongside them, the valikon loose in its sheath. Tanzir had offered him a horse, but Kylon had turned it down. He fought better on his feet, and did not want to waste valuable seconds in the event of a fight.

Against foes like the Huntress and Rhataban, seconds made the difference between life and death.

They rode a mile and a half from the rebel army, stopping ten yards from the Grand Wazir’s embassy. Belatedly Kylon wondered if this had been a ruse to lure them within range of the Hellfire catapults, but the engines were too far away, and any shot of Hellfire would likely wipe out the Grand Wazir’s embassy. 

Or, for that matter, the Grand Wazir himself.

Erghulan Amirasku sat astride his horse, glaring at them, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was in his late fifties, still fit and strong despite his age, with a hard face and a hooked nose than made him look like a hunting hawk. He wore elaborate plate armor, its edges silvered, a jeweled scimitar hanging at his belt, a velvet cloak thrown back from his shoulders. The armor looked expensive and ostentatious to the point of absurdity, and Kylon could just imagine the cutting observation Caina would have made.