Mother of Lies (15 page)

Lost in reminiscence, he started when he heard footsteps rustling, then realized they must belong to a Werist. An extrinsic would make ten times as much noise. In a moment the celebrated Waels smile appeared above him, more diffident than usual.

“Am I intruding, lord?”

Orlad said, “No.” He wasn’t, surprisingly. “Sit down and talk, Hero.”

Waels dropped, folding his legs on the way down. Orlad smiled—smiling was something he had to remember to do, not something that just happened. After that he was content just to contemplate the sky again.

Eventually Waels grew fidgety. “Talk about what, lord?”

“Anything. The battle? You were great! Or explain people to me. Yesterday I discovered I had family. Today I found friends, too. I’ve never had either before. Don’t know how to handle them.”

“You’ve been doing amazingly well … if you don’t mind my saying so?”

“Have I? Life is complicated, suddenly.” Why, for instance, was he pleased to have Waels as company?

“Um …” In another rustle of leaves, Waels stretched out beside him and leaned on an elbow. “It could be even more complicated.” His eyes were bluer than the sky behind him.

“How?”

“Suppose you had a lover, too?”

That should have been a surprise, but it wasn’t. Waels wasn’t blushing or smirking, and Orlad was certain he wasn’t, either. He remembered their intimate, face-to-face confrontation on King’s Grass. His own reaction had puzzled him. He considered his memories of Musky, last night, which felt like a lifetime ago now. This was not that. Similar—some of the reactions were the same—but more complicated.

“I know even less about love. Nothing at all.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Waels touched a finger to Orlad’s collar and studied it as if he had never seen one before. “Remember the morning you chose me as your buddy? That was the happiest moment I’d known since my brother died.”

“You had a brother? What happened to him?”

“Died in cadet training. He was a spare. I’d been watching you all through the testing, admiring you, and when you appointed me your buddy, I knew that you wouldn’t let them do that to me. I almost wept, my lord.”

Orlad mumbled, “Understandable.” Never forgivable, though.

The smile that Benard admired flashed again, spoiled by the scarlet birthmark. “I’ve known ever since then … Orlad?”

Smile. “Waels.”

After a while Orlad smiled again, this time without meaning to. “This morning, up on King’s Grass—I have never been so glad to see anyone as I was when I found myself looking down at you.” Lying on top of him, in fact. “I’d so nearly torn your gullet out! Glad I didn’t.”

“Me too.” Another pause. “Just wanted you to know.” The blue eyes held challenge. “How I feel about you, I mean. Sorry if I offend …
Orlad
.”

“No,” Orlad said. “You don’t offend me, Waels. Not at all.” He caught hold of Waels’s collar and yanked him close. “How does one begin?”

Big smile. “Like this, I think …”

FABIA CELEBRE

and her companions had camped on one of the Milk Islands on their way upriver. This one was more wooded, but the trees concealed a level, secluded campsite with a well of sweet water and a fire pit surrounded by tree-trunk benches. Luxury! She and Horth found a sunlit bench where they could sit while the riverfolk pitched tents, and were soon joined by Ingeld, Benard, and Guthlag. Later she saw Dantio playing slave, barefoot and stripped down to breeches, spreading the Werists’ palls over bushes to dry. She persuaded him to come and sit beside her to tell the others what he had told her about the day Celebre fell, fifteen years ago.

“You are the only one of us who remembers it,” she said.

“And I would happily forget.”

Four Heroes gathered around and sprawled on the grass to listen, still wearing riverfolk castoffs, so that only their stubbled heads and the glint of sunlight on their collars showed their allegiance.

It was not a happy story. “Mama carried you into the farmhouse,” Dantio finished. “That’s the last I saw of you for years.”

“What happened to her after that?”

“I don’t know. We cannot see what happens beyond the Edge. I heard extrinsic reports that she was still alive earlier this year, caring for Father.”

Fabia knew more than he did, then, but she was not going to admit that she had been shown a vision of her infant self being given to the wet nurse and her mother being abused by the bloodlord.

“I remember the parting,” Benard said. “I remember screaming my head off, but almost nothing after that until I was living in Kosord.”

Dantio described the harrowing journey over the Edge, and how the brothers had been forcibly separated. The Witness would have been a very handsome man, Fabia decided. Cropped ears and ragged haircut ruined his overall looks, of course, and she could see white whip scars on his back. But his face was lean and intense, shrewd-looking and refined by suffering.

Every now and again his attention would wander for a few moments. “Just riverfolk,” he explained the second time it happened. “They like to overnight in these islands.”

The biggest Werist growled, “You’ll tell us if any Heroes arrive?”

“None so far, but I saw two boats of them going by a while ago, heading upstream. Their palls were purple and red, with either green or red flank stripes.”

“Purple means Horold!” Ingeld said.

“’Fraid so. And red means Wrogg Hunt, which has all his best men. I doubt they’re on their way to Florengia.”

“Then he’s close behind them!”

“Not necessarily so, my lady,” old Guthlag said. “He never goes any nearer Saltaja than he must. He’s sent his best man after you, Huntleader Loki Nargson. The satrap himself will have stayed home in Kosord to go duck hunting.”

Ingeld looked unconvinced. Ducks would be safe from Horold until he had hunted down his wife.

A couple of the Werists sprang to their feet. “Must tell Orlad!”

Dantio squeaked “No!” in his treble, but so vehemently that they obeyed him. “They’re gone upstream. They’re no threat to us. Orlad’s resting right now. We can call him if he’s needed. His whole world has turned upside down, my lords. You went hunting at King’s Grass. He was the prey! He needs some time to, um, make plans.”

The two sat down again. “Can’t hear anyone getting murdered, anyway,” muttered the one they called Namberson. Fabia noticed fleeting grins and wondered what was funny.

“There was no huntleader in the boats I saw,” Dantio said, “nor even a packleader, so that likely means there are more of them on the way. They may be days away, though. Some boats are faster than others; convoys get separated. And there are lots of islands here.”

Fabia knew that most riverfolk would have made camp by now, so the chances of Horold arriving were fading. The sky was a blaze of red as the sun sank behind the wall of the world. Whatever its faults, Tryfors did have spectacular sunsets.

“Do you really know everything?” she asked.

“Within my range. The Wisdom knows everything, but it’s back in the Ivory Cloisters.”

“Tell us why Saltaja was so certain you were dead.”

Dantio looked away. “It hurts to talk about it.”

The riverfolk were laying out the evening meal on the ground near the fire. The four Werists had begun showing interest. They would certainly insist on being served first.

Then Dantio said “O-oh! We have company!” and instantly had everyone’s attention. “Three boats … more … They’re going to make camp.”

“Orlad!” The Werists all jumped up.

“Orlad’s on his way back here,” Dantio said. “There’s no danger at the moment. They’re three bowshots downstream. I can’t make out much detail.”

“How many of them?” Snerfrik asked.

“A full hunt, maybe. Packleaders …” Dantio looked at Ingeld.

She sighed. “And Horold.”

He nodded.

“How many in a full hunt?” Fabia asked, certain she would not like the answer.

Many voices told her, “Four sixty.”

The odds were impossible. The sailors had noticed the alarm and were watching. Two more Werists emerged from the shrubbery—one fair, one dark. They, too, saw that there was something amiss. They came at a run. Everyone started telling Orlad about the danger.

“We should leave?” he asked his brother.

Surprisingly, Dantio laughed. “Leave?
Leave?
What sort of wimpy talk is that? I thought you brave fellows
enjoyed
a good fight?”

Fabia winced, half-expecting to see her eldest brother massacred by the youngest, and some of the Werists growled angrily at the slave’s mockery. Orlad did not, although he did not join in Dantio’s laughter. “So it’s true. You’ve been holding out on us! You sent word to Arbanerik already?”

“Oh, well done, Little Brother! Did you work that out or did Hero Waels?” Dantio’s grin flickered back and forth between the two Werists. “Mmm, thought so. Good man to have around, yes?”

Orlad scowled menacingly. “Get on with the story!”

Fabia wondered what was being hinted here. Seers could not read thoughts, only emotions, but if Orlad and Waels had been plotting something together, Dantio probably knew what.

“Yes, lord. High Timber is a couple of menzils up the Milky. When we camped in these islands three nights ago, Saltaja sent runners to Tryfors, but I swam across to Milk and spoke with New Dawn’s agent there. So, yes, a tablet was baked that night to be sent upriver in the morning.”

“Telling Arbanerik he could catch Saltaja if he attacked Tryfors?”

“Well done!” Dantio repeated. “He would have known she was coming, of course, because some of the men she lost on her journey passed through Milk a few days earlier. He should be ready by now. You’ve got the same idea I have. I don’t know his plans, but my hope is that he moved his army into position yesterday. The battle may have started already.”

“Not likely,” Orlad said.

“Why not?” For once the Witness was surprised.

It was Orlad’s turn to smirk. “Because nothing’s happening here yet. Even a Werist host cannot just leap into battle on a moment’s notice. It needs time to gather rations, make plans, issue orders. And think tactics! Arbanerik will certainly send a force down the Milky, to seize these islands and block off any escape by either Saltaja or Therek. There can’t be many places where Werists can close off the Wrogg. Also, if he has enough men, he’ll try to seize Nardalborg at the same time, and close that way out. So right now he’s either still on the move or he’s resting his men before hitting Tryfors, and perhaps Nardalborg, tonight.” He turned his hard, dark stare on Waels. “But how many will he send here, you suppose? A full hunt? More?”

Waels murmured, “Depends how many men he thinks he can spare, lord.”

“Can you see them, Witness?”

Dantio said, “No. But some of Horold’s men went upriver earlier. If they discover trouble in Tryfors, they’ll turn tail and come back to warn him. We certainly don’t want him to escape back to Kosord, and we don’t want him hitting Arbanerik from the rear.”

Tactics and strategy were flying almost too fast for Fabia to follow, and some of the Werists seemed to be laboring also. She dared not look at Ingeld, whose son and husband were going to be on the wrong side of the coming battle. The riverfolk had noticed the discussion and were drifting closer, hoping to eavesdrop.

Dantio sewed it up. “It would be very tidy if the forces of virtue and vengeance could hit Satrap Horold here before he strikes camp in the morning. Please arrange that, Flankleader.”

Orlad scowled. “If this New Dawn horde is on its way here, why don’t we sail up the Milky to meet them?”

“The riverfolk won’t try it in the dark. But you Heroes can see in the dark, can’t you? And run in the dark? Not you, brother. We need you here, and your skin would take too much explaining.”

Fabia expected Orlad to argue, but he just glanced over his men, who were all leering excitedly now.

“Namberson, Snerfrik, go and relieve Narg and Jungr at the boat. We’ll bring you some chow shortly. Hrothgat, Prok, you’re the best night runners. Witness, where do they go and what message do they deliver?”

Dantio said, “Cross to the east bank and head upstream to the junction, a bowshot or two. You’ll know the Milky by its color. Follow it upstream until you’re challenged—if you aren’t, you’ll reach High Timber itself before morning. The first password is ‘At night the gods weep blood.’ That should get you to the commander. Tell him ‘Dark eyes see farther than you can hear.’ That means you come from me.”

Hrothgat repeated the passwords. “And then tell him to shift his ass down here soonest?”

“Even faster. Tell him about Therek being dead. If they can catch Horold here and Saltaja in Tryfors, then the Stralg tyranny is ended on this Face. Remember that Horold is camped at the downstream end of the islands. We’re well upstream—we don’t want any mistakes.”

The eunuch was showing an astonishing ability to give orders to Werists, but now his eyes wandered, staring downstream again. “Even if he has seers with him …”

Orlad said, “What’s wrong?”

Dantio took a moment to answer. “I suggest you recover your palls, even if they’re not quite dry, then roll them up and hide them. Very few Witnesses have the range I do, but if Horold does have seers with him, he may ask them if there are other Werists nearby, and those stripes are distinctive. Otherwise, I still don’t think we’re in danger. They’re lighting fires, unloading supplies. No one’s scouting.”