Reap the East Wind (13 page)

Lord Lun-yu asked, “Are the men clear on the rules? Injured to transfer immediately. Enemy casualties to transfer if portal time is available. To be dismembered otherwise. We have ten to fifteen minutes to incapacitate a body before shock terminates and it can be animated again.”

“They’ve been advised, Lord.”

“Good. Remind them not to turn their backs on enemies who are down. They might get up again.”

Shih-ka’i smiled into his mask. He wasn’t the only mother hen.

“As you command, Lord.” Meng Chiao departed.

Tasi-feng asked Shih-ka’i, “Will you be coming through, Lord?”

“Later, maybe. Just for a minute, to get an idea of their strength and tactics. I’ll be too busy here to interfere much.”

Tasi-feng bowed slightly. “I’d better double-check my signals with the batteries before I leave.”

“Go easy on the shafts if you can.” Shih-ka’i had been able to gather just forty-nine. Tasi-feng had explained that most of the thaumaturgic arsenal had been transferred to Southern Army.

“I intend to, Lord.”

“And watch the flyers. The air is our weak flank.”

“Yes, Lord.” Tasi-feng bowed slightly and departed before Shih-ka’i could fuss any more.

I’m as antsy as an old maid, Shih-ka’i thought. Let be, Ssu-ma. These are good men. They have millennia of experience between them. Field experience. Their soldiers are the best. If they can’t stop this army of the dead, it can’t be stopped.

Why was he so terribly nervous?

Because of the dragon riders? The autopsy hadn’t told him anything good. They were nine feet tall. They were immensely strong. They were partially immune to attack by the Power. In all probability, in life, they had been smart, quick, and deadly, and had wielded the Power in their own right. A demand upon the libraries of Shinsan had produced no knowledge of any such creature having existed within the era of reliable historical records.

Shih-ka’i could not discover what had caused the desert, nor who had built the cities lying in ruins in the forests facing it. A search of the oldest legend-histories had produced only a passing reference to a great stone god of the east, a guardian facing an endless sea. Cautious, daring reconnaissance had confirmed that the continent ended not far east of the solitary mountain. Beyond lay nothing but an island and ocean.

The description of that island piqued Shih-ka’i’s curiosity. In Ko Feng’s reports on the Pracchia conspiracy he had referred to an island in the east. It had sheltered the laboratories of the conspiracy and the headquarters of its mastermind. This island fit Ko Feng’s description. He wondered if these armies of the undead were another Pracchia gambit... How could that be? All the High Nine but Ko Feng had been killed at the Battle of Palmisano, or earlier. Both the west and Shinsan had made every effort to eradicate subsidiary nines following the war.

Lord Ssu-ma thought he would very much like to land a force on that island and see what had been left behind. The Pracchia conspirators had controlled some interesting sorceries. Lord Ko had been unable to salvage any. Most had been under the aegis of one Magden Norath, a renegade Escalonian who had guarded his secrets well.

Shih-ka’i made a quick inspection circuit of the fortress.

Preparations were proceeding perfectly, if too slowly to soothe his nerves. He took a deep breath. “Pan ku, let’s see what’s happening in the mountains.”

7 Year 1016afe

Conspiracies

MIST WAS ABOUT to retire when a nervous servant announced that the King wanted to see her. “He’s here?” she asked, startled.

“We had him wait in the library, My Lady.” The woman’s tone conveyed a plea for understanding. The monarch could not be told to come back when his visit would be more convenient. Astounding enough that he should just drop in off the street, though this King was uniquely plebeian in his habits.

“What does he want?”

“He wouldn’t say, My Lady.”

Moths gamboled about in Mist’s stomach. This had a bad smell. “Tell him I’ll be right down. See if he’ll take some brandy.”

“Certainly, My Lady. Shall I waken Marta?”

“I’ll dress myself.” She took her time, composing herself by chanting verses from the Soldier’s Ritual used by the warriors of her homeland. She did not leave her bedchamber till she was convinced that she was in complete self-control.

“You’re out late,” she observed as she entered the library. A tic of irritation pulled at one eye. Her warmth sounded false in her own ears.

The King scanned her quickly, his gaze impersonal. He was unimpressed by her beauty. She always felt inadequate in his presence: felt like she had a great hairy mole on the end of her nose or a livid scar across her cheek. He and Michael Trebilcock and Varthlokkur were all immune to her carefully crafted looks. Weird and frightening that so many such men should surround her, making treacherous the ground on which she was accustomed to operate, leaving her uncertain and inclined to become flustered...

“I was over at my house. I wanted to see you. Thought I’d save a trip and do it now.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I had a rough day. Excuse my manners. They may not be what they should.”

Her preparations were inadequate. Already she was growing flustered. She gobbled, “What’s on your mind?” and was immediately dismayed. She hadn’t wanted to be so direct.

“Just call me curious about what you and Aral are up to.”

Damn, she thought. She managed to mask her surprise. “Up to? What do you mean?”

“Let’s say I’ve noticed the coming together of what appear to be the elements of a `situation.’ I always try to be reasonable. Thought I’d give you a chance to explain before I got excited.”

“So?” The moths were back. Brandishing tusks dripping venom. Suddenly, she understood why Varthlokkur was in town. If Bragi thought he needed his back covered, he wassure...

“These are the ingredients: One exiled Princess of Shinsan, minus the tempering influence of a good man who fell at Palmisano. One young merchant of considerable wealth and influence, perhaps bedazzled. From the staff of Lord Hsung’s Western Army, Tervola who remain secret supporters of the Princess in exile.”

Mist held her breath. How could he know that? That damned Trebilcock! He really did have somebody inside Lord Hsung’s headquarters. She’d hoped she was wrong about that.

“Interestingly enough, these ingredients have come together just when my spies tell me Shinsan has been caught with what looks like an explosive crisis on its Matayangan frontier.”

Gods! Did he know everything? Did Trebilcock have an agent here in the house?

“A handy distraction,” the King continued. “Now, if you were me, wouldn’t all those things make you wonder?”

He spoke with an odd formality. Rather like a magistrate, she thought. His voice was tight. His gaze wandered nervously, but she was too distracted to seize and use his discomfort. She drifted away inside herself, trying to select a response which would not compromise her ambitions. Finally, “You’re right. I was approached by people inside Shinsan. By a traditionalist faction opposed to Lord Kuo’s penchant for change, and disturbed by the empire’s increasing instability. I’m the last living descendant of the founder, Tuan Hua. I was shaped during the Dual Principiate of the Princes Thaumaturge. They think I could reimpose old-fashioned stability and values, given a chance. So far it’s just been talk. I don’t think anything will come of it.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been approached before. These groups never have enough power or influence. And what they really want, instead of what they say they want, is a figurehead. A legitimate pretender who can assume their sins after they’re in power. A scapegoat, really.” Was he listening? Accepting? His face remained as impassive as a gambler’s.

“And you wouldn’t settle for that.”

“No. You know me that well.”

The King steepled his fingers under his nose. For a moment he seemed to be praying. “Where does Aral fit?”

“He’s a merchant. The trading climate would improve if a friend of Kavelin ruled Shinsan. He’s been trying to assemble financial backing for a coup. I haven’t had the heart to shatter his hopes.”

The King examined the spines of her books. She hoped she sounded plausible. She had rehearsed for this interview countless times, knowing it to be inevitable, but it had come early. All her planning had toppled around her. She could not recall her lines. She could but tell most of the truth and hope that it would be enough.

He took a deep breath, decided not to say whatever was in his mind. She was sure he had been about to bring up his secretary’s embassy to Lord Hsung. Were it as successful as it sounded likely to be, it would rob her of all hope of enlisting the support of Kavelin’s mercantile community. Her only real option was to sabotage Prataxis’s efforts. She hadn’t yet crossed that bridge. And now she knew she didn’t dare. Surely he’d just caught a glimmer of the possibilities. If anything happened now, the blame would be laid at her feet.

He was playing his old, old game of giving the villain all the rope he wanted.

“Sounds good,” he said at last. “Kavelin would benefit. Assuming Shinsan’s historical inertia could be altered. Otherwise what damned difference does it make who’s in power?”

What? He wasn’t going to raise hell? He was going to agree with her? Despite Prataxis? She let him sit through an extended silence while she marshalled her composure. He didn’t seem to notice. She asked, “What are you saying?”

“That I wouldn’t be averse to a scheme. But I’m not too excited about you involving my people without you and me having an understanding up front. Also, right nowyou are one of my people. You’re Chatelaine of Maisak. My first line of defense against Shinsan. We have here what Derel would call a potential conflict of interest. I wouldn’t want to find myself worried about my hold on the Savernake Gap.”

Mist’s heart fluttered. How could he know so much? Did he? Was he shooting in the dark? Was he giving her more rope? Using his well-known obsession with the eastern peril as a tool? “I see. You want guarantees. What did you have in mind?”

The King smiled thinly.

She had made a tactical error. Hehad been fishing this time. And he’d caught her. Damn! Why did he have to be so astute?

“Not now. Not here,” he said. “We both need time to think it over. And I’ll want witnesses. Varthlokkur and the Unborn should do.”

She pretended amusement. “You don’t trust anybody, do you?”

“Not now. Not anymore. Why should I? Your scheme is only one of my problems. I mean to walk light and careful till it’s all under control.”

She laughed a genuine laugh. Her confidence began to return. He responded with a smile. She said, “You should have been born an easterner. You would’ve made a great Tervola.”

“Maybe. My mother was a witch.”

She had heard it before, of course, but still she was startled. Was that it? Was he doing a little magical snooping? Perhaps with Varthlokkur showing the way? She started to ask, was interrupted by a servant who said, “My Lady, there’s a gentleman here looking for His Majesty.”

Mist looked at Bragi. He shrugged. “Send him in,” she said.

The King’s adjutant bustled in. “Sire, I’ve been looking all over. We need you back at the palace.” The man looked grim.

“What is it, Dahl?”

“An emergency, sire. Please?” The young officer gave Mist a glance so melodramatic she was tempted to laugh.

“We’ll talk later,” the King told her. His look said as much as all of his conversation.

She would have to walk very carefully for a while. Matters had reached a stage too delicate for risk-taking. All her fault, of course. She had gotten too eager, had begun looking too far ahead, to deal properly with all the little things cropping up now. “Overconfidence, get thee behind me,” she murmured.

The hour was late. The King and Varthlokkur were seated on steps in a dark and otherwise deserted courtyard. Neither man was wholly awake or alert. Ostensibly, they had come out to watch a spectacular meteor shower. “There goes a big one,” the wizard said. “All the way down past the wall.”

“I saw one one time that broke up in about twenty pieces. Really something. There’s another one.” After a few seconds, “I saw Mist. She was too evasive. Made me more suspicious.”

“So?”

“So she’s into some scheme to get her throne back. In a lot deeper than she’ll admit.”

“And?”

“Damnit, you’re not contributing a whole lot here.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Give me a guess. Am I wrong? Is she really involved in something?”

“Hell, you know the answer to that. Why ask? Of course she is. Once you attain a throne, you don’t give it up without a fight. Consider her viewpoint. There isn’t much here for her since Valther was killed. Her children, of course, but she isn’t the maternal sort. She once had something big in Shinsan. Now she wants it back.”

“She’s vulnerable, though. Through the children.”

“Aren’t we all.” The wizard turned bitter. “They’re hostages to fortune.”

“Can she make the comeback?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t know what’s happening in Shinsan’s politics. And I don’t want to know. I just want to ignore them, and have them ignore me.”

“But they won’t.”

“No. They won’t. Not forever.”

They watched shooting stars for a while. Then Varthlokkur said, “It won’t matter if she does win, you know. Shinsan is Shinsan.”

“You don’t think she’d change anything?”

“She couldn’t if she wanted. She wouldn’t be allowed. You and I and Kavelin have earned their special attention. Someday they’ll come again.”

“Look at that one! Almost like a comet for a second.”

“Uhm.” Musingly, the wizard continued, “It should be a while coming. They’ve had some bad years, and they’re staring trouble in the eye in Matayanga. They haven’t fully pacified the territories they occupied during the war. Right now they’re hoping like the one-legged whore the day the fleet came in.”

Bragi chuckled and looked the wizard askance. That was not a Varthlokkur figure of speech. “If they’ll give me a decade, or even another year, I’ll be grateful. I’ll take it and be happy because I don’t think we can turn them back again. I think having Mist in charge might set the day of reckoning back a little, and soften the blow when it falls.”