The Assassins of Tamurin (57 page)

“Ah, but she thinks no one knows about her plots and that no one would ever connect her to his assassination. Also she thinks that her presence in Kuijain is unlikely to be detected at all, and so believes herself doubly secure.”

“But why does she need to be there? Why not stay in Chiran?”

“Because in Kuijain she is some fourteen days closer to the center of things. She missed killing the Sun Lord at Bara, because of that fourteen days’ delay, and she does not want to miss him a second time. So she came secretly to Kurjain just before the Sun Lord marched to Gultekin, and gave Dilara and myself our orders—Dilara to kill the Sun Lord, me to tell Ardavan that the assassination is at hand. The Despotana will wait in Kuijain, until she receives my sending to tell her that he is dead and that Ardavan is sweeping across Bethiya. Then she will retum to Tamurin, and prepare Ashken to marry the new Exile Emperor.”

I thought hard. With my waming, Terem might survive Dilara. But he still might lose tomorrow’s battle, and the barbarian darkness would sweep across the world. Killing Mother would not change that.

Suddenly I sat up straight. Her death was only part of the solution. The rest of the answer was right in front of me.

I said, “You’re supposed to tell Ardavan that Terem is going to be killed, so he can take better advantage of it in tomorrow’s battle?”

“Yes. I am to slip across the lines tonight. He knows me from the earlier negotiations, as I told you. I cannot avoid doing this, if that is your plan. She has ordered me to go, and go I must, or suffer.”

“I understand that,” I said. “Look, I’ll dispose of the Despotana for you, but first you must help me with something else.”

“And what might that be?”

“When you go to Ardavan, there’s nothing to keep me from going, too, is there?”

“No. But to what purpose?”

“So I can assassinate him,” I said.

'"Whatl
Are you as mad as she is? Suppose you come to grief? Who will dispose of the Despotana then?”

“We can kill him if we act together. You’re always telling me to think, Nilang. Now you do the same. If we remove Ardavan, we wreck Mother’s plans from end to end.” “Wrecking her plans does not interest me. Her death is enough, so I can go home and find my child.”

“But if you help Terem now, perhaps he’ll help you later. He’s the Sun Lord, Nilang. If any power can reunite you and your daughter, it’s his. He could even bring her here to Bethiya, where you’d both be safe.”

I had never seen Nilang appear uncertain until now. “But we’ve been his enemies,” she protested. “Once Ardavan is dead, why should he do anything but execute us?”

“I know him, Nilang.” Or I hoped I did. I was taking a tremendous gamble by expecting to negotiate with him, but he was already hunting us, and it seemed our best chance of survival. “He’s not a tyrant. He’s an honorable man. At the least, he’ll give us our freedom in retum for his victory. And remember, I’ve already told him about Mother, and he wants her dead as much as we do. If I can’t manage to kill her, he will. You’ll be ft-ee either way.”

She chewed her lower lip, frowning. “I am still bound. If I tell him what I have told you, I will die in torment. You will have to speak for me. And I cannot be present. If I am, the binding will make me try to silence you.”

“I’ll speak for you, Nilang.” A thought stmck me. “You said she expected a sending as soon as Terem was dead?” “Yes, I am to speak to her through Tossi.”

“Can you send her a false report that will keep her in Kurjain until we reach her?”

“That feels too close to betrayal. The binding might strike me down. I dare not.”

“If she hears nothing, how long before she takes alarm and leaves Kuijain?”

“I cannot tell. A few days, perhaps.”

“Then we might just have time to get to her, if Terem helps us. But he won’t do that unless I assassinate Ardavan. What do you want to do, Nilang?”

After a long silence, she rose to her feet. “Win all or lose all, then,” she said. “Come with me to the King.”

I lay very still in the brittle winter grass and studied the fires of the Exile camp. Sleet pecked at my cheeks; bad weather had moved in on a freezing wind from the west and shut out the starlight. Wthout the distant glow of the watch fires I could not have seen my hand in front of my face; Nilang, though she was only an arm’s length to my right, I could not see at all.

I was lucky to have made her an ally Out of her satchel had come black clothing—she’d come prepared for anything, it seemed—and charcoal dust to darken our faces and hands. There was also a thin Taweret murder blade for me, like the one she carried. Dressed and armed, I slung her rope over my shoulder and we left.

In the deserted streets we saw none of Terem’s searchers, and we got onto Gultekin’s southeast rampart without incident. There were sentries, but they were staying close to the meager warmth of their cressets, and didn’t see us as we roped down the outer face of the city wall. Getting from the wall to the Durdana camp took little time, but then we had to work our way eastward through our lines without being caught. It was like threading a dangerous maze, for many of the battahons that would fight on the morrow were aheady in position, and the soldiers had ht fires to keep warm. We had to pass so close to them that we could hear the men’s voices as they cursed both the cold and the Exiles and boasted about the enemies they expected to kill. But we moved slowly and carefully, our bellies on the frosty grass, no more than black shadows on the black earth, and no one saw us.

Eventually the firelight and the voices lay behind. Once in the no-man’s-land between the armies we moved faster; now, as I lay on my belly in the darkness, only a stone’s throw separated us from the Exile pickets. I could see them moving up and down, silhouetted in the glow of their fires. As far as I could judge, it was about midnight.

I slid closer to Nilang and whispered, “What next?”

“We try to get in without being killed as spies. I have a pass token, but they must have a chance to see it. Stay behind me and make no suspicious movements.”

We stood up and approached the black silhouettes ahead. Nilang had something in her hand, which she held out in front of her; it glearned dull gold and ruby in the firelight. Our garb and blackened faces made us hard to see, and the nearest picket still hadn’t noticed us when Nilang called to him in the Exile tongue. Even in the bad light I saw him stiffen with surprise, and then the glint of a spear blade as it swept down to threaten us.

'‘Lai stepanu!"
he shouted, or something like it. Nilang answered briefly and waved the medallion. We were very close to the man now, and two others had joined him. I could make out their facial tattoos and the pale streaks of their yellow mustaches.

The first speaker noticed the medallion and squinted at it. His eyes widened abruptly and suddenly he looked agitated. “Ardavan
terk malag?''

“Ardavan,” Nilang answered.
''Hagalas!"
I vaguely remembered that
hagalas
was the Exile word for “friend.” They lowered their spears a little and she let the first man examine the medallion. I stood beside her and peered at the thing. It showed a red scorpion on a gold ground, Ardavan’s house emblem, with a squiggle of Exile script under it. The Exile soldier deciphered it aloud, haltingly.

“We’re lucky,” Nilang said from the comer of her mouth.

“He has the rank marks of an undersergeant, and he can read the medallion.”

“What does it say?”

“That the bearer and companions are in the service of the King and under his protection.”

The officer grunted, waved at us to follow, and off we went through the tents of the enemy camp. Much of the Exile soldiery wore Ardavan’s scorpion emblem, but I saw a good few with the white snake insignia of Mirsing, others badged with Ishban’s black moon, and more with the thunderbolt and ox of Suarai: Ardavan’s royal allies were with him. The Exiles were doing the same things that their Durdana counterparts were doing not far away: eating, drinking, sharpening weapons, cursing, gambling, telling jokes, boasting. I now knew enough about armies to sense that these men were tired, although they appeared not at all downcast by being so far into enemy country in the depths of winter. In fact, they looked very confident of their victory, and my heart sank a little.

We reached the royal tent. It was of a good size and made of white leather, the blazon of the red scorpion on the hanging that closed its doorway. Two guards in scale armor stood by the entrance, each with a drawn yataghan, the curved Exile cavalry sword. Like everybody else, they stared at us. Our sergeant spoke to one of them, who then put his head inside for a moment. Then he brought it out and stared at us some more.

At length a man looked out of the tent and waved at us to enter. I found myself with him and Nilang in a sort of cloth anteroom; male voices came from behind a curtain. They sounded cheerful.

“Why are you here?” the man asked in atrocious Durdana. He was in early middle age and wore no armor, but his clothes and bearing marked him as someone of rank. He had begun life uncomely and was little improved by his facial tattoos. Some were disembodied mouths with teeth.

“I have news of the Sun Lord and his army,” Nilang said.

He regarded us with his black eyes. “Give it to me, then.”

“I may tell it only to the King. Tell him the Taweret is here and he will see us.”

“Who is this?” Meaning me.

“That is for the King to know.”

He looked thoughtful and went into the other room. I heard voices, then a silence. Suddenly several armored officers came out, glowered at us, and left the tent. The ugly man followed them, looking bemused.

“Come,” said a deep voice within.

We entered, and for the first time in my life I saw the relentless enemy of my race. He was a tall man, well built, and handsome even with the tattooing. His clothes were simple: a scarlet tunic and black leather trousers and boots, wom beneath a knee-length Exile mantle of some black and gold fur. The gold in the fur was the color of his hair, which hung in the customary slender braids along his lean cheeks. He had a sensitive mouth and his hands were long and graceful. He’d kept two guards by him, who stood with drawn yataghans and watched us carefully. I couldn’t have got past them even if I’d been willing to buy his life with my own, which I wasn’t.

Rugs covered the tent floor. Nilang prostrated herself on one and so did I. After a moment, the deep voice said, in the Durdana of an educated man, “Ah, the Lady Preherwene-mef. Get up, both of you, and tell me why you’re here.”

We rose, with me wondering how many names Nilang had, and how Ardavan could pronounce this one. He seemed to like rings, for he wore several, among them a thick gold and crimson seal ring on his left thumb.

Nilang bowed and said, “I bring you respectful greetings from my mistress, the one you know of. As we speak, she makes your Empress ready, and to ensure a propitious matrimonial prospect, she has sent this girl and me to lay bare the enemy’s plans.”

“Leave off the Durdana speeches,” Ardavan said. “How many men has he, how good are they, and what is he going to do with them?”

“Before I tell you, dread King, know that your victory is certain. The one I serve has promised that the Sun Lord will be dead by dawn.”

“So she’s finally decided the time’s right, has she? She could have done away with him at Bara and saved us all much inconvenience.”

“Circumstances precluded such an act,” Nilang replied smoothly, “but this is his last night among the living.”

“I hope as much. But his generals may still fight, so answer my questions.”

As he spoke, it struck me suddenly how much like Terem he was in his confidence, his ambition, and his genius for leadership. If they fought as allies, between them they might conquer the world. But as Terem had said, the world had room for only one of them.

“This spy has studied his forces closely,” Nilang said. ‘Tell him, girl.”

I obeyed. Ardavan was unlikely to be frightened if I told him our men were superbly trained and ready for battle, so I went the other way in the hope of making him overconfident. I minimized our numbers, then said our infantry was dispirited at having to fight in the cold and that most were badly trained and likely to flee at the first opportunity. I said the cavalry mounts were suffering from lack of forage and that they were out of condition from being in winter quarters—which was somewhat true but not nearly as bad as I made it. Finally I said that Terem’s senior officers had lost confidence in him since the failure at Bara and were likely to disobey his orders if they disagreed with them.

Ardavan was a brilliant and capable leader, but what I told him was what he wanted to hear, and even the most brilliant man or woman can be ensnared in such a way. In short, he swallowed all of it, and I knew it would soon find its way to his generals and his allied kings. And once that happened, all I had to do was kill him.

As I spoke, I noted an opening in the leather wall behind him, through which I could see another room with a low.

fur-draped bed. It was at the back of the tent. No doubt there would be a sentry patrolling outside the tent’s rear, and I could only hope Ardavan didn’t also post a guard in the sleeping chamber with him.