Warrior (The Key to Magic) (25 page)

As Mar's magic took hold, Lord Purhlea grunted, then stiffened as if in severe pain and gritted his teeth.  The viceroy's arm shook for a moment, but then steadied as Mar completed his ministrations, and the Purhlea relaxed.  Mar clove the cloth of the bandages in twain with a casual ethereal procedure

Lord Purhlea gave his arm an experimental twist, then stretched it while flexing his fingers.  "My thanks, my lord king."

Erskh watched all this with amazement and then, turning his goggle-eyed stare at Mar's trousers and boots, gasped, "My lord emperor, you...ah...have legs now?"

Mar pursed his lips and shook his head, then bent over slightly to tap a knuckle above his artificial knee to make a knocking sound.  "There're fake."

"Oh, my lord emperor, that is...quite...uh...novel.  They look very realistic.  Your magnificent magical abilities never cease to astound!"

Mar disregarded the inexpert fawning.  "How is it that you're here, Grand Commandant?"

Erskh gripped his sword, presenting an image of projected courage that simply struck Mar as ludicrous. 

"I am sallying with the Viceroy to drive the usurpers from the city, my lord emperor!"

Mar turned doubtful eyes on Lord Purhlea.

The Viceroy gave a slightly reluctant nod in confirmation.  "He has given me and my men succor in his home and assisted our travel to the Library to contact Legate Stromhaeldt and his unit, my lord king.  We were indeed preparing to sally when we saw the arrival of Number One."

"Do you know who's behind this?" Mar demanded of Erskh.

"Information has been difficult to acquire since the riots began, my lord emperor, but my agents suggest that Patriarch Hwraldek is the culprit."

"Lord Purhlea?"

"It was armsmen in Korhthenr sashes that ambushed my party yesterday as we were walking to the plaza, my lord king.  They killed three of my guardsmen and forced the rest of us into the sewers to escape."

"Grand Commandant Erskh, you had no prior warning of this insurrection?"

"None at all, my lord emperor!  My agents discovered absolutely no hint of it beforehand!  This fiend Hwraldek concealed his treason completely!"

Mar found that he had no reason to believe otherwise -- he felt sure that if Lord Purhlea had suspected Erskh then the Viceroy would have already dealt with the Grand Commandant in a final and certain manner -- and while he placed no trust in Erskh whatsoever and had no confidence in his loyalty to anything but his own survival, he did not think that the man would ever generate sufficient courage to conspire against the Empire.  And, as before, Erskh's ability to provide intelligence concerning goings on in Khalar might be of considerable use.

"What caused the riots?"

"Sacrilege most foul!  A moon dancer was murdered on the portico of the temple of Miyra right in front of the festival crowd.  Many witnesses claim that the four men were Imperial legionnaires wearing your colors.  A few reports suggest that the murderers then absconded into the temple itself."

"What about the rest of the Privy Council?"

"My instinct is to naturally suspect them, my lord emperor, but none have made any public pronouncements.  My agents have uncovered some indications that they are providing assistance to Hwraldek, but nothing that might be termed hard proof."

"You said that the killers went into the temple of Miyra?"

Appearing to realize for the first time that Mar had accepted his claim of innocence at face value, Erskh declared with some boldness, "Indeed, my lord emperor!  We should investigate immediately!"

"I'll leave that to you, Grand Commandant.  Go with this legate -- what was your name again?"

The Khalarii officer saluted.  "Legate Stromhaeldt, my lord emperor. House of Penniyl, Thirty-Ninth Reserve Exurban Legion."

"Right.”  Mar turned to point the stub of his left arm across the plaza.  "Legate Stromhaeldnt, go with Grand Commandant Erskh to the temple of Miyra and search the place.  I herby grant you the powers of an officer of imperial justice.  If you find the imperial imposters, arrest them.  I want them to be able to confess, so make sure that they are not overly damaged in the process.  If Priestess Seoralye does not cooperate unreservedly, arrest her on suspicion of treason."

"Yes, my lord emperor."  The legate saluted and began directing his men to form a file to march across the plaza.  Erskh, hand on sword and presenting what he must have thought of as a heroic pose, hurried to take a prominent place at the head of the column.

 "Knight-Commander Purhlea, I want you to take charge the section of legionnaires from Number One and move out to capture the Blue Ice Bridge.  Fall back to the plaza if you meet strong resistance and coordinate with Vice-Captain Ulor to provide polybolos support."

"Yes, my lord king. What of Hwraldek?"

"I'm going to find him myself."

THIRTY-EIGHT

The 1645th year of the Glorious Empire of the North

Fourthday, Waning, 1st Autumnmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

Khalar

Hwraldek confronted the monk.  "You assured me that the Emperor would not come to Khalar.  Yet he has landed in the Plaza of the Empire
after only a single day!"

The Phaelle'n's face showed no reaction.  "The advance of the holy forces of the Brotherhood has its own schedule and does not take into account Khalarii concerns.  Clearly the holy warrior sent to render the life of the Apostate did not succeed."

"Fortunately," Hwraldek said, forcing calm as he made a tiny signal with his hand to his guards, "I am not as simple as you may have imagined and have made provision for your failure.  At this point, with the viceroy and many of his senior commanders dead and the Viceroy's Guard in total disarray, there are none loyal to the Emperor that could point to me and swear that I am the instigator of this debacle.  I shall simply say that I, a dutiful and faithful servant of the Empire, felt compelled to use the meager resources of my House to intervene to restore order to the Old City.  None of my fellow conspirators will dare gainsay me.  However, to make my explanation sufficiently convincing, I will have to present the Emperor with the dastardly mastermind of the plot.  He will, of course, be conveniently dead and thus mute."

 Hwraldek made another sign and the guards moved in to surround the Phaelle'n.

"For the glory of the Restoration!"
 The monk threw back his cloak and his dual blades began to sing.

THIRTY-NINE

Mar knew exactly where Hwraldek's villa was.  He had actually taken a silver fork from it once, on a summer night with a warm wind out of the north.  By chance alone, a guard had discovered him as he had padded through the kitchen and he had had to abscond with only the single piece of loot snatched from a table on his way out a window.  Of course, the fork had proven to be near worthless plate but he had still traded it for a slice of ham and a round of flat bread.

The rambling, unlovely brick structure had been constructed in the fairly recent past in a utilitarian modern style with faux columns, simulated cornices, painted on entablature, and plaster friezes.  It and its compact garden lay on the western side of the Old City just back from the rough ground along the bluffs.  Similar dwellings of the powerfully affluent shouldered next to it, but the blocks across the narrow street in front of it were a hive of apartments, half-covered alleys and small commercial plazas.  The grounds, well kept but devoid of particular style and entirely ornamental, were surrounded by a low wall toped by a black iron fence, but the elaborate gates opening on the entrance promenade were standing open and no guards could be seen.

Readying his magic to fend off any possible attack, he landed in the street just outside the gates and walked in.  No armsmen leapt from concealment to accost him and it seemed at first that the place was deserted.  As he advanced up the serpentine walk to the open terrace, an older man carrying a copper watering can appeared from the doors of the house and proceeded to sprinkle a row of potted flowers along the baluster.  The man's clothes were cut from fine material but were what Mar would have considered bondsman's attire: sleeveless tunic, rough trousers and sandals.  His upper right arm still had a light circle bisecting the tan of his bicep, so he must have only recently finished his Bond.  He looked up, nodded at Mar, but did not interrupt his work.

Because it seemed the thing to do, Mar stopped when he reached the edge of the terrace.  "I have come for Patriarch Hwraldek."

Shifting his feet to move to the next pot, the man said in an unconcerned fashion, "He's inside, first room on the left."

"Is he alone?"

"No, his guards are with him.  Everyone else has been scared off.  If you like, I'll help you bring them out."

The oddness of this last statement gave Mar pause.  "What do you mean?"

"They're all dead, of course.  Place looks like a slaughterhouse.  Probably take a week to clean."

Mar did not try to conceal his surprise.  "What happened?"

"It was the southern fellow, one of them that wear the hoods, only he never did.  He's in there too.  Near as I can tell, he and one of the guards, must have been the last one standing, gutted each other at the same time."

"I'd better take a look."

"Like I said, first room on the left."

Mar went into the house and found the grisly scene.  The patriarch lay in a pool of his own dried blood near a cold fireplace, sprawled in a position that suggested that the single thrust that he had taken to the heart had killed him instantly.  From the scuffed rugs, toppled furniture, and sliced cushions, it appeared that his guards, who all wore chainmail and leather that had done little to stop the unusually shaped twin blades that had killed them, had fought a raging battle as they also fell one by one.  The assassin lay at the center of the room, impaled on a sword that was still gripped in the hand of a disemboweled guard.  It was hard to tell, but the monk appeared to be smiling.

For the first time in a long time, Mar thought of Sihmal, but found no sense of recompense in Hwraldek's death.

He went back outside and found the servant pulling sprouted weeds from the pots with nimble fingers.  "Do you know who I am?"

"Sure do.  You're the emperor.  I saw you fly around the Plaza on the day of your coronation.  You didn't have legs then though.  Pretty wife you've got."

"Is there anyone else here?"

"No, the rest of the household took off when we looked in and found them all dead.  Bondsmen and servants know better than to stay around when something like that happens.  The next patriarch might decide that they had something to do with it."  

"So why did you stay?"

The man gestured at the flowers.  "I've been gardener here for half my life, bondsman and free. Started when the place was owned by Hwraldek's aunt.  I've got too much invested in the gardens to let a probable change in ownership stop me from tending to them now."

"I suppose that's a better reason than most."  Mar took a silver thal from his pocket and gave it to the gardener who dropped it in his own pocket without much ado.

"I'm going to send some armsmen to retrieve the patriarch's body," Mar told him.  "I want you to make sure that no one disturbs it until then.  Will you do that?"

"I'll do what I can, but this watering can won't work too well against a sword."

"If armed men come, they should be mine.  If some do that aren't wearing sea-blue and blood red, then just get out of their way."

"Oh, I know how to that well enough."

Mar flew up from the terrace and went south to the Blue Ice Bridge.  He caught sight of Lord Purhlea marching across the bridge toward the Old City at the head of a column of close to two hundred Khalarii legionnaires.  The Viceroy brought the column to a halt as Mar descended. 

 "I have taken command of the garrison here and arrested its former commander for incompetence," the Viceroy reported straightaway.  "He apparently was under the impression that his duty did not extend beyond the fortress walls." 

"What about the Korhthenr armsmen?"

"They disbursed before we arrived."

"No point holding on to a sinking ship."

"How is that, my lord king?"

"I found Hwraldek.  He's dead.  The word must have spread fast."

Lord Purhlea showed no surprise.  "Thus to all traitors."

Mar saw that the Viceroy had gotten the wrong idea.  "Oh, I didn't kill him.  Didn't get a chance.   He and his guards were dead when I found them."

"The conspirators had a falling out?"

"No.  I talked to one of his servants.  Hwraldek had been having dealings with a Phaelle'n monk and for whatever reason, the monk killed them all.  He also died in the process, so we probably won't ever be able to find out exactly what happened.  Unless Erskh comes up with something at the temple, anyone else that was involved in this may escape completely."

He gave Lord Purhlea brief directions to Hwraldek's villa.  "Have some men retrieve his corpse and hang it from the obelisk in the Plaza of the Empire."

"For how long, my lord king?

"Until it rots."

Mar left the capable nobleman to the task of asserting imperial rule throughout the Old City and flew upward to consider the western bank of the river.

People were beginning to venture out and crowds were forming in many of the larger streets and all of the main avenues.  Thus far, most seemed to be just congregating to talk.  Fires still burned, but in some cases groups of civilians were working to douse them.  Though some of the men in the crowds appeared to be armed with clubs or other similar weapons of convenience, no armsmen, Korhthenr, Imperial, or otherwise, were visible.  Either the Viceroy's Guard had been wiped out to a man or they had all quite sensibly found somewhere to hide.

Mar thought briefly of hunting for Vice-Captain Mhygaeus and his marines, but had no idea where to start looking and doubted that he would have any success in a random search -- there were simply too many places in the Lower City to hide bodies.