The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (39 page)

“I don't dance. I can't dance. I hate dancing.”

“You've got to eat, don't you? You've got to relax once in a while. You can't always bury your nose in those maps of yours.”

By now Tomar looked so downcast, Anaxantis had to laugh.

“All right, Tomar. I doubt a ball organized by the ladies of the Dermolhean Forty will relax me, but all right.

An hour. One hour. That's it,” he said with mock severity. “When?” he added.

“Tonight.”

“Argh. I've just arrived and there's tons to do, a thousand things to organize, a million things to discuss. I don't even know where to start. Scouts. We need to send out—”

“Lethoras took care of that. Specially trained men are on stand by since two days. They're just waiting for your orders.”

“I need reports where all the Lorseth units are and when they will be here.”

“I took care of that. Messengers have been sent. We'll know the exact position of each army unit by this evening. Well, actually the Third Regiment already sent a messenger of their own ,saying that they will be arriving late. Seems they got lost at a certain point. Sort of took a wrong turn, and well, you don't turn a regiment around like an apple cart. It was a bit chaotic by their account.”

“The Third? Of course. My lord general of Iramid. That incompetent buffoon.”

“To be fair, it could have happened to anyone. Lethoras gave him a rather confusing route of secondary roads. Mistakes happen.”

“Hm. I suppose so. Anyway, is there enough place for the new arrivals in the barracks or to put up their tents?”

“Yes, yes. Taken care of. The Landemere Contingent moved out yesterday and made camp twelve miles east of Dermolhea. There's more than enough space.”

“Good. I want to see the captains of all the infantry units tomorrow. As soon as the Lorseth units have arrived. I want them all to know the possible maneuvers I might require of them on the field. I know a lot of them by name, but I want to know them all by tomorrow evening.”

“OK, I'll call for—”

“This afternoon I want to see the chief cartographers. I need maps, detailed maps of the whole sector between the Mirax and Dermolhea, especially those parts where the river comes nearest both forests. If only we could contain them between the woods and the water...”

“I'll—”

“Ah, yes, but first I need to see the scouts. They must leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I'll—”

“Oh. How is the food supply situation? Do we have enough repositories?”

“Well, yes—”

“Are they stocked? Stocked to capacity?

“I—”

“I want a complete report of the logistics. The supply chain, the inventory control, transport modalities... the whole kit and caboodle.”

“I have all relevant—”

“Ah, yes, have you thought about the flexible approach we discussed? I need to have my hands free from a tacti we dim atifcal point of view. As soon as we know with any degree of certainty where the enemy is, I want to secure him, prevent him from gaining any unexpected advantage. I need to be able to bring a decisive force to bear on them, and for that the army can't be hampered in its maneuverability. The food must come to us, not vice versa. Oh, and remember—”

Tomar threw his arms in the air.

“Shut up already,” he shouted exasperated. “It has all been thought of, it has all been arranged.”

He took a deep breath.

“Sorry, Anaxantis, but seriously... I have documents, lists, plans about all the things you mentioned. I took notes when we discussed them, remember?”

Anaxantis was taken aback for a moment.

“Oh, Tomar, I wasn't criticizing you. I'm sorry. I've never done this before, you know.”

Tomar laughed.

“Neither have I,” he said, calmed down. “But believe me, we did our best. And flexible you say? All our plans and dispositions can still be amended. Within reason. Now, what shall we tackle first?”

Not far from Anaxantis's tent, two barracks had been set aside for Timishi, his retinue and Lorcko. To his chagrin, Shermy heard Timishi appropriate a barrack for himself, his beddurouwin and the handsome Ximerionian. The other six Mukthars would have to share the second barrack.

Neither Timishi, nor Rodomesh had anything to unpack. They both gave their rooms a cursory glance.

“I'm going to seek out Anashantish,” the Mukthar prince said to his friend, while Lorcko was still in his room, ranging the few things that his bag contained. Clothes tended to wrinkle if kept too long folded too tightly.

“Finally,” Rodomesh replied in a relieved tone. “You're going to offer him an alliance?”

“Well...” Timishi started hesitatingly.

“Timi, we need him. We need building materials and craftsmen. None of us knows how to use a hammer to save his life. We need clothes. We need food. We need people to teach us how to cure hides. We need to trade them. We need—”

“I know what we need from him, beddurouwin,” Timishi interrupted him irritatedly. “But what do I offer him?”

“Our swords and daggers, Timi. Damn it.”

“There's only three hundred of us, if, if Navrisha managed to get us enough horses.”

“Yes. But three hundred Mukthars, Timi. Three hundred Wolf Mukthars.”

Timishi smiled unsurely.

“Granted. Will it impress him, though?”

“He doesn't know what he's up against. And that's the second thing you trade with: knowledge. Traditionally an expensive, costly commodity. Make the most of it, nagàrouwin.”

Timishi grinned.

“I'm very lucky to have you for a rouwin,” he said.

“I wonder if you still will be thinking that after I ask my next question. What's the deal between you and Lorsho? I saw you with your hands in his pants, Timi.”

The Mukthar prince grin-shrugged.

“I lik

�� wie him,” he said.

“Timi, first the Ximerionian frishiu and now... now this?” Rodomesh asked, exasperated.

“You haven't seen how he fought off his attackers. There were three of them. Besides, I think he's good-looking.”

“I bet you do. You've seen the whole package of course. He's too handsome for a guy. He smells of flowers.”

Rodomesh wrinkled his nose.

“And remember how he stood by Shermy?” Timishi ventured.

“Yes, I remember particularly the adoring look Shermy cast in his direction. Listen, if it's only a romp in the hay you're after—”

“No,” Timishi said, unexpectedly harsh. “No,” he continued in a softer tone, “I couldn't do that to him. Or to Shermy.”

“He's done it himself many, many times if only half of the stories I heard are true.”

“Maybe. But that was then. This is now. He's paid his dues, as far as I am concerned.”

“Timi, you're the que—”

Timishi lay his hand on Rodomesh's mouth.

“We agreed. Not even in private.”

“Oh, all right. All the same, your duty is clear. You'll have to take at least five wives. And have sons with each of them. Navrisha expects to become first... you know what. And then there is Shishka.”

Timishi laughed out loud.

“I suspect Lorsho will have to take care of the future of the House of Iramid as well, Rodo. Besides, it's not as if I'm asking him to become my àjemisha tomorrow.”

Rodomesh looked askance at him.

“You forget I know you, nagàrouwin. I know you. You may not be there yet, but sooner or later... Just—”

“You don't have to remind me who or what I am, Rodo,” Timishi interrupted him in a resolute manner. “You know that when, if I choose someone as my other self it will be one who will not shame my honor.”

Rodomesh bowed his head.

“I'm sorry, Timi. I didn't mean to aggravate you. Now I've made you mad at me, haven't I?”

“Yes, you have. A little bit. Call the guys together by the time I return.”

“Ah yes, you'll want to explain to the Council what happened.”

“That, and I have an important announcement to make.”

“An announcement?”

“Yes. I'm adopting you.”

“What?”

“It's just a wise precaution. I have no heirs as yet. If I fall in battle, you'll succeed me. I think you're ready for it.”

Rodomesh looked at his friend, still not fully realizing the implications of what he had heard.

“How do you figure that?” he asked, a little bit dazed.

Timishi grinned.

“You talked back to me. Anyway, from now on I'll expect you to be on your best behavior. You're a frishiu of the Wolf Mukthars now after all.”

Rodomesh

Roavi grinned back.

“As long as you don't expect me to call you daddy. By the way, it won't work of course. There's no way you will fall in battle and me surviving that. To get at you they will have to kill me first.”

It had been a beautiful day and the evening sun felt sensual and caressing on his naked skin.

Standing on the majestic balcony, he looked out over the calm sea. The marble tiles felt cold under his bare feet, but he didn't care. He heard the raucous, hoarse cawing of gulls in the distance. It sounded almost triumphant, mocking. Strangely enough, the harsh sounds soothed him.

It had been quiet, much too quiet since Master was gone, two days ago now. Much quieter than the previous time. Probably because now he had taken almost everybody with him. Maybe it was the absence of that indistinct background rumble of all those people going about their business that made for this foreboding, almost eldritch atmosphere. It felt as if the world was depopulating.

He shivered when a gust of wind suddenly blew over the castle. Casting one last look at the horizon, he turned around and went inside, closing the door behind him. At once the silence became even more oppressive.

He looked around in the big room. All was as it should be. Clean. There still was a fire going in the hearth. It was warmer outside than inside now. The thick stones out of which the tower was built seemed to have absorbed the cold during the winter, and they were now gradually releasing it.

He wanted to sit down on the rug near the fire and half crouching saw the stubbles that had already grown on his groin. He had shaved only this morning. Yet he got back up and went to the bathroom to get his shaving knife and a basin for warm water. Master liked seeing him naked and clean shaven at all times.

When he was finished he felt pure and... virtuous, almost. When Master came back he could look him in the eyes — no, not in the eyes, of course, but he could let Master look at
him
, knowing he had been good and that his Tarno had nothing to hide. Literally nothing.

He sat down on the rug, rocking back and forth on his bare butt, hugging his knees and staring in the softly glowing embers. He started humming to himself.

After a while he felt totally relaxed, in that misty, cozy realm between waking and sleeping. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular. His mind had drained itself of all conscious thoughts. He let it wander.

It followed no distinct or logical path. Images without any obvious correlation followed each other. Master saying goodbye to him. Master inviting him into his bed. Master caressing his back while he introduced himself in his Tarno. It didn't even hurt anymore. It was as if he was made to receive Master. Having him move inside him, and feeling the warm explosion, and Master sinking down on his back right after, more than once brought tears to his eyes. Then Master permitted him, sometimes even assisted him, to climax as well. He liked to watch his Tarno in ecstasy. He was generous like that.

The best part however, came after that, when he could lie close to him, or, as often happened, when Master wanted to sleep in the crook of his shoulder, in the arms of his Tarno.

He never permitted himself to fall asleep before his Master, because that was what Tarno liked to watch.

How Master became drowsy, all contTarno almseented and satisfied, pleased with his Tarno. How his face changed. How one by one the little worried wrinkles straightened out, became vaguer, and almost, not quite, but almost vanished. How Master became a trusting, sleeping boy he held in his arms, his long, golden hair covering half his face. His little brother. His lover. His boy.

It was impossible of course, and he probably should have stopped it, but the images came from he knew not where. He was half dozing and he just let them flow and take what course they wanted. They were laughing, at breakfast, for no particular reason. Just because it was the fine morning of what promised to be an even finer day, and because they had decided to take a ride in the country. Maybe he would wear his dark green tunic and his studded short riding boots of fine leather. He could take him maybe to the ruins of the tower where he used to meet with Gorth.

Ha, they had taught him how to use a sword, had they? Well, he bet there was still a trick or two he could teach his little brother. They would eat, looking out over the fields and make love amidst the ruins.

He smiled, seeing with his mind's eyes how they returned home, chatting and laughing, glad to be young and alive and in love. Let the people look at them with envy. Let them talk all they wanted.