House of Lust (22 page)

“Mmm,” the governor nodded.  “And she’s so misunderstood, because nobody has ever met anyone like her.  Go, Captain, get that man out of here and away.  Then get to sleep.  We have to receive the emperor in the morning – and you have your name.”

“That I do – thanks to Metila,” he said, looking at the gently breathing woman, the eye liner running down her cheeks through the sweat.  Thetos took her out of the room, leaving Vosgaris to call the guards in to untie the prisoner and take him to the sulphur mines of Makenia.  If he was lucky he would die a quick death.

The next morning everyone was up early.  Town criers were announcing the imminent visit of the emperor and people began running from all corners of the settlement to the town square.  The militia were already there, lined up, spears ready, forming a corridor through which the emperor and his entourage would come.

Vosgaris sat in Thetos’ room, his eyes gritty.  He hadn’t slept much through the night, and was wondering what it had been that had terrified Klimat so.  He and Thetos had seen nothing, but the prisoner had suddenly begun screaming and babbling out everything.  The captain had never seen anything like it.  Thetos had merely shrugged – Metila was just as enigmatic to him now as when they had first met.

“Why not tell the people before now that the emperor was coming?  I mean, nobody has prepared anything!”

Thetos grunted.  “Think about it Captain.  If I had then it would have been likely our little rodents would have scampered into their little holes and we would then never have found out what we have.  By leaving it to the last moment I think we’ve achieved quite a coup.  No noble will now go from the city, now the emperor is known to be coming here, so if any do then it’s a deliberate insult and punishable.”

“Ah, and so is here ready for the plucking?”

“Like a fowl,” Thetos nodded, a toothy smile spreading across his face.

“What of Metila?”

“Exhausted.  She won’t surface for most of the day.  Doing what she does takes it out of her.  I don’t know how she manages to handle that energy.”

Vosgaris grunted.  “I still worry the emperor is going to be displeased with her about the news.  People won’t take too kindly to the fact he’s been unfaithful, and Metila may get a lot of unwanted attention.”

“We can handle it.  She’s a tough one, if you’ve noticed.  Anyway, let’s get ready with our finest ceremonial garb,” he heaved himself out of his chair.  “Ah, you’ve not got an alternative, have you?”

Vosgaris shook his head.  “I’ll wait for him here.”

“As you please.”  Thetos called for an assistant to help dress him, and Vosgaris wandered back to his room.  He packed his few belongings and then visited Hendros and Arkanin.  Arkanin was still too unwell to travel and Hendros was reluctant to leave his friend behind, but Vosgaris pointed out he was in good hands.

It was not long after that the entourage entered Turslenka, via the Eprosian Gate.  Astiras was in the lead, waving to the cheering crowd, and by his side, only slightly behind, came Argan, much to everyone’s surprise and delight.  He, too, waved, imitating his father.  Behind them came Kerrin and Panat, both on equineback, then the two wagons containing the equipment and non-riders.  Amal and Mr. Sen sat in the first, the young Bragalese girl wide-eyed at the scene.  She had never been away from Bragal, and this was a huge new adventure for her.

Thetos met the imperial party on the steps of the residence, and after a brief greeting and an even quicker imperial review of the militiamen, they filed into the building.

Vosgaris stood, nervously awaiting the arrival of his master.  Astiras came stamping into the room, his eyes appraising the smartly stood captain.  “Ah, here you are, Captain.  The Governor tells me you have news.  You look terrible.”

“Thank you, sire.  We know who is behind the spreading of the affair and why.”

Astiras tugged off his gauntlets and threw them onto Thetos’ desk, staring all the while at Vosgaris.  “Well, good work.  Who?”

Vosgaris told him.

Astiras grunted.  “I’ll personally take care of that
kivok
myself before I continue on the morrow to Pelponia.  I’m off to see Kornith and the province, so if you want me to deliver a message to your – ah – relative up there, now’s the time to write.  You are off to Zofela to arrest the guilty party there, and to resume your duties.  Clear?”

“Sire.”

“Now, Thetos, old friend, where’s your hoarded supply of ale?  I’m parched!”

Vosgaris left the two men to it, and wandered back towards his room, feeling a little anti-climactic.  There were people in the corridor and he recognised one or two of them.  “Is that you, young Prince?”

Argan turned and beamed as he caught sight of Vosgaris.  “Vos’gis!  It’s wonderful to see you here.  How are you?  What are those marks on your face?”

“Oh, I’m fine thank you apart from these marks.  I had an accident, nothing to worry about.  I’ve finished my mission here and have to leave for Zofela almost immediately.”

Argan’s face fell.  “Oh, that’s sad – I would have loved to speak with you about how you’ve done.  I’m to remain here now until I’m old enough to take up a governorship or generalship.  It’s going to be a little difficult away from so many friends – but Kerrin and Amal are here, as are Mr. Sen and Panat, so I’ll have a few friends to enjoy my – ah – banishment.”  He grinned.

Vosgaris chuckled.  “You’ll like it here, sire.  Governor Olskan is a trusted man and you know Metila, of course.”

“Oh yes, where is she?  I’d like to introduce Amal here to her.”

“I believe she’s sleeping; she had a tiring evening yesterday and doesn’t want to be disturbed, sire.”

Argan looked even more disappointed.  “Is there anything wrong?”

Vosgaris shook his head.  “No, no, young prince, we’ve been very busy and with my mission for your father now finished, I have to return to Zofela.  Emperor’s commands have to be obeyed, don’t they,” he grinned.

Argan smiled back.  Amal stood next to him, her eyes wide.  He sighed.  “Well, Vos’gis, I’d best not keep you in that case.  We’ll have to correspond you know, even if we might be far away from one another.  I think we’d better go look over our quarters too, before Mr. Sen and Panat start wondering where we are.  Come on, Amal, let’s go.  Nice seeing you, Vos’gis.”

The captain bowed and allowed the prince and his servant to walk towards their new room.  People were bringing in items and taking others out, and there was a real block in the passageway.  Vosgaris thankfully entered his room – for the last time, he mused, and packed the last of his belongings.  He wrote a hurried letter to Vazil and tied it with a ribbon.  Carrying his pack he called Hendros to join him and the guard appeared, similarly weighed down.

Pausing briefly to speak to the emperor and pass on his message to Vazil, he was formally dismissed with a thank you and a final message from Astiras with express orders not to open it until he was beyond the walls of Turslenka.  He saluted and tramped out of the rear exit into the courtyard and picked up his equine at the stables, Hendros doing likewise.  A pack animal was roped to Hendros’ animal.

Once they got out of the city, Vosgaris stopped and untied the message and unrolled it.  He scanned the words.  Explicit and unambiguous.  Arrest and keep imprisoned the one at Zofela who was connected to the conspiracy.  Astiras would take care of the remainder there in Turslenka before moving onto Pelponia.  He drew in a deep breath and looked back at the city.  Why was it he felt as if he was being hurriedly shoved out of the way?  With an unsettled feeling, he turned his equine and began making his way south towards the Storma Valley, followed by Hendros.

___

Argan felt a little overwhelmed.  People were rushing about, a couple shouting orders for things to be placed here and tidied up there.  Amal was quickly summoned to help clean up the chamber that was going to be Argan’s for the time he was in Turslenka, and suddenly he was alone, wondering what he should do.  Oddly, he now missed his mother, for she would have told him what he should be doing.  That was not going to happen here.

He certainly didn’t want to be around the fussing people, causing so much dust and dirt to be thrown up into the air, so he made his way along the corridor and saw Mr. Sen sat in a room full of daylight.  “Hello,” Argan said from the doorway, “is this your new quarters?”

“Oh, no, young prince,” Mr. Sen said with a deep sigh, “I’m merely taking refuge here until my room is ready.  It’s far too noisy and bothersome to be out there, I can tell you.”

Argan knew what he meant and came in, shutting the door.  The noise level dropped at once.  He looked over the room.  “Very light in here.  This could be our new study.”

Mr. Sen looked at the three windows that looked out onto the city square.  They were on the ground floor and the light was coming in from a high angle, shafts of sunlight that were almost too bright to look at.  The view was not that pleasant, being of railings and the heads of the guards keeping the people away from the residence.  “We will need better security here if we are to use this room, sire.”

“How so, Mr. Sen?”

“No bars on these windows – people could get in here and attack you.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Argan asked, surprised.

“Oh, who knows?  Madness, evil people, even enemies of the Koros or invading spies and agents.  We can’t take the chance of putting your life at risk.”

Argan decided to leave those sort of arrangements to Mr. Sen and the other adults.  He sat in a chair, a hard wooden one with a high back, and wriggled.  “These aren’t that comfy.”

“No, we’ll get better ones in.  Now, let’s pass the time, shall we?  I dislike wasting an opportunity to educate you.  And by the time we’ve finished,” he added, seeing Argan’s face fall, “it’ll be dinner time.  I presume Governor Olskan will have planned to accommodate us all for meal time.”

“Yes, he should do, after all, he is governor and that is part of planning.”

“Indeed, well put, sire.  So, I want to hear from you the military and political situation surrounding us.”

“But I’ve told you that…”

“From the perspective of Makenia, not Bragal.  You are in a different place now, sire, and so you ought to be able to judge the strategic situation differently depending on where you are.  Armies move, and things are never the same from a new location.  So, Makenia.  To the north?”

Argan drew in a deep breath and looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling.  “The Aester Sea, a great expanse of water, bounded by Lodria to the west, Pelponia to the east and the island of Cratia to the north.”

“Ruled by?”

“Lodria is part of the Western Princedom of Kastania, nominally ruled by me, but in the meantime by Prince Jorqel.  Pelponia is part of the Eastern Princedom of Kastania, nominally ruled by…” he scowled and had to force the name out through his lips.  “Prince Istan, but currently by Emperor Astiras.  Cratia is under the rule of the Venn Republic, illegally occupying land that is rightfully Kastanian.”

“Well said, although not to be repeated to foreign dignitaries should you speak to any on that subject.”  He raised a finger at Argan who was about to protest.  “Diplomacy, young prince, diplomacy.  So, Venn.  From Makenia’s perspective, what is the stance of Venn?”

“Aggressive.  To the east through the Pitan Mountains, the province of Epros, recently conquered by Venn.”

Mr. Sen folded his hands across his ample stomach.  “Defence against possible attack?”

Argan pursed his lips.  He thought back to the battle he’d seen from the castle of Zofela when his father had fought against the Venn army.  “Heavy cavalry, a mass tactic, useless against town or city walls, or spearmen.  Venn use crossbows and spearmen.  Generally heavier armour than Kastanian troops.  Open battle risky unless there are good defences.  Turslenka has the militia, no good outside the walls, a small number of imperial spearmen and the governor’s bodyguard.”

He looked up at his tutor.  “Remain inside the walls and defend Turslenka and await relief from the Army of the East, or the KIMM from Kastan City.”

Mr. Sen nodded.  “Very good.  You have listened and understood.”

“But what about the people outside the walls?  If we stay inside then there’s nobody to protect them from the invaders.”

“Then, young prince, you will have to think on that and work out how to both save the people and stop your cities from falling to an enemy.  I cannot teach you that – if you are to be a good leader, a ruler, then you will have to decide which is the best course of action to take.”

Argan scratched his head.  “I shall, but it will take a lot of thinking!”

“Other possible enemies?” Mr. Sen asked, leaning back.

“Uh – from the sea, Venn again, strong navy, possible landing sites along the bay near Turslenka.  Unknown strength of navy, but stronger than Kastania.”

Mr. Sen tutted and put his fingers together and looked hard at the young prince.

“Ohh,” Argan clucked his tongue in irritation.  “Sorry, I forgot!  Rebellions.  Variable strength, types, locations.  Nobility from Kastania, gathering personal ret-ret-retinues,” he struggled with the word, “and dis-aff-ected locals.”

“Disaffected because?”

“Because…..” Argan screwed up his face in concentration.  “They are not happy with the local ruler, high taxes, feeling they would be better off with a change.”