The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (22 page)
He will be thrilled to hear about it.”
“Aren't those at Landemere Castle?”
“Yes, but you could invite your pupils.” Anaxantis said casually.
“Unless they're going home.”
“No, I don't think so. What a great idea. I'm sure they'll love it.”
Ehandar looked at his brother.
“Thank you,” he said
“Not at all. You seem to enjoy their company.”
“Yes, I do. Maybe it's because we have a common interest. It's so uncomplicated, you know. And they're great guys, once you get to know them.”
They had reached the pen. One of the clansmen had seen them coming and brought their horses. Anaxantis stroked Myrmos fondly on the muzzle.
“What do you think?” Ehandar said with a mixture of triumph and self-satisfaction in his voice. “I had the carpenters make the parts, but I assembled them here myself.”
Anaxantis looked with open mouth at the heavy oaken stand to the right of the big hearth. It had the general shape of a cross, but several protruding parts were obviously meant to hold the breast, back, arm and shin plates and other components of a harness. For the moment only the helmet rested on top of it, still looking for all the world like an inverted bucket with slits, though polished to a blinding sheen.
“Isn't it absolutely grandiose?” Ehandar sighed, pleased with himself and the fruits of his labor.
“Grandiose. Exactly the word I was groping for,” Anaxantis, who thought the contraption perfectly hideous, said as cheerfully as he could manage.
“That's two you owe me,” he thought resignedly. “Luckily it stands
beside the fire, where it doesn't reflect the flames, or it would seem as if Zardok himself paid us a visit right out of the deepest pit of Murokthil.”
“I can't wait to start working on the breast plate.”
Anaxantis looked at his brother.
“He's happy. By the Gods, he's happy. I've seen him enraptured, in ecstasy, but I think I've never seen him this happy.”
He smiled broadly.
“What? What?” Ehandar asked, self-consciously.
Anaxantis put his arms around his brother's neck and kissed him on the lips.
“It's truly beautiful, love. You're so clever and so good with your hands.”
“Hold that thought,” Ehandar whispered into his ears, while he let his fingers travel over Anaxantis's back, sending shivers up his brother's spine.
The last day of November was Ehandar's nineteenth birthday. Anaxantis got him a Cheridonian fourblood, just like Myrmos, his own horse. He had arranged for a little get-together, in the evening, in the guesthouse he kept for his own use. Hemarchidas looked suspiciously at how the birthday boy, Lethoras and the three pages talked enthusiastically for most of the time.
He also looked at Anaxantis and saw that he was glowing with contentment.
A column of about seventy horsemen rode slowly down a path,
bordered by thick woods, which allowed three men to ride abreast.
The branches of the trees on either side sometimes met and inter— twined, which gave the road the appearance of a tunnel.
“You're certain this is the right way?” the high king asked of an aide who rode beside him.
“Very certain, Sire. Her Majesty has chosen a road that is almost never used and hence unguarded. We should reach the border shortly.”
The path made a sharp turn to the left. Where it came out of the woods and gave out into the pale light of the winter sun and unto the undulating plains, the kingdom of Ximerion ended. Tenaxos felt uncomfortable. Some fifty yards from the frontier he reined in his horse and raised his hand in a sign for his men to stop.
“Take two soldiers,” he ordered his aide, “and go take a look over the border.”
Several minutes later the men returned.
“Anything? The queen?” Tenaxos asked.
“No, Your Majesty,” the aide answered, “but we found this, nailed to the very last tree of the forest.”
He handed the high king a sealed parchment.
Tenaxos read it quickly and smiled.
“Vixen,” he murmured to himself. “Right,” he said out loud.
“Twenty men follow me. The rest of you stay here.”
“Isn't that dangerous?” Dennick, his personal secretary, confidant and manservant all rolled into one asked.
The high king shrugged.
“I need to see the queen. These are her terms. We'll be safe enough.”
He pulled in the reins, and once out of the woods took a narrow path that ran near the edge of the forest along the border. In fact, it was the border.
He noticed with amusement the passable imitation of the raucous caw of a crow. Three times. After about five miles, where the forest made a little bulge into the plains, he stopped.
A few moments later a man on horseback emerged from the out— crop of trees.
“Sire,” he said by way of greeting. “Please follow me. Her Majesty awaits you. Only ten attendants please.”
Dennick remained motionless, but the aide shifted nervously in his saddle.
“It's all right,” Tenaxos said. “Since we've come this far, we might as well go through with it.”
Another three caws could be heard once they had started moving.
The high king looked right and left as the man led them further into the plains, further away from Ximerion.
They came to a small depression, surrounded by low hills. The man
made them stop between two of them.
“Order your men to wait here, please, Sire. Dismount, and then proceed on foot to the center of the valley. Wait there. The queen will join you forthwith. She too will be on foot and by herself.”
With that, the man gave his horse the spurs and rode off between the hills. When he had disappeared out of view it became eerily quiet.
The aide looked doubtfully at his king.
“Stay here,” Tenaxos said, getting off his horse. “Keep ready.”
He didn't specify for what. He didn't need to.
The high king was halfway to the center of the shallow valley, when on every hill surrounding it groups of mounted men appeared. Looking around and behind him he saw that his own paltry escort was out— numbered at least ten to one. They couldn't even flee anymore, as a group of twenty men had taken up position in their backs. Tenaxos was starting to get seriously worried. Then he saw Emelasuntha come towards him.
The high king looked at his queen, almost gliding towards him, in a sensible riding outfit, with high leather boots, her long, golden hair hanging over her white mantle. A pale winter sun shone behind her, giving her a faintly trembling, golden contour. A Goddess descended to the mortal plain. Suddenly he remembered how he had lusted after her, even before his ailing wife had died. How he had sworn he had to have her. How it had all seemed so right. The woman, the prestige she brought to his House, the alliance with Zyntrea she brought to the realm.
A faraway smile lingered on her lips.
In a strange, unexpected way it was exciting to see him again. Had she ever loved him? No, not really. Theirs was a marriage of
convenience, more of a treaty between states. And the fulfillment of a
promise to a dying friend. There had been passion. But there had also been, still was, respect, admiration even, and a sense of duty. As she had told her son so often, they didn't live for themselves. They existed in function of the position the Gods — fickle fate, more likely — had put them in. Yet, she couldn't help deplore the state of things. They could have been friends, good friends. Who knew? The sum of all that might have amounted to love one day.
“You look well, Tenax,” Emelasuntha said.
“As do you, Eme.”
He looked around at the dozens of men on the hills, then looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Them? Don't mind them,” Emelasuntha answered his unspoken question. “Just some friends, worried for my well-being. Overly worried, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” the high king laughed. “It's good to see you, Madam,”
he added, squinting his eyes at her.
He realized she had deliberately made him come this way, so he would have to face the sun, bleak as it was, making it tiresome to look at her, while his face was brightly lit, every nuance of emotion on his face, to the minutest detail, clearly perceptible to her.
“Details. You always pay attention to details, don't you?”
“Good to see me?” the queen asked. “Was that why you tried to lock me up in that damp hellhole on Mount Taranaq? Sorry, but I was bored and had to forgo your hospitality.”
The high king smiled dismissively.
“I thought at the time it was necessary, Eme. Nothing personal.
Meanwhile, I have rescinded the warrant for your arrest.”
Emelasuntha didn't show any outward evidence of emotion.
“How gratifying to know,” she said with the merest trace of
sarcasm.
“In any case, there's no need anymore for certain Avadesquan warrior women to roam the roads of Ximerion. You're perfectly at liberty to go where you want. It was always meant to be a temporary measure.
Just affairs of state.”
“Just affairs of state,” the queen repeated evenly. “You played with the life of my son, merely to prove a point to yourself. To test him. You sent him into a dangerous situation,” she said dryly. “Then, when he escaped your control you sent the Bloody Baron after him.”
“And our son killed him in the blink of an eye, as soon as he was able to lay hands on him, my agents tell me. The Gods may know what he did with his half brother. There was talk of a renunciation, but the documents to confirm that never arrived at the Royal Administration.
Then it was made out to have been a ruse. With what end, nobody can tell me. To cap it all he went directly against my orders, executed a trusted and dear friend—”
“And dealt with the Mukthars as barbarians should be dealt with,”
the queen interrupted him. “Something the so-called high kings of Ximerion never had the balls to do, I might add.”
Tenaxos didn't bat an eye under the outburst.
“I see that all-consuming fire in your blood hasn't abated in the least,” he said. “However, there is much more at stake now.”
Emelasuntha looked at him in mock surprise.
“And so you need his help?”
The high king made an impatient gesture.
“Not exactly. I need him to be aware of the danger. He might think he is safe behind the hills of the Northern Marches. He would be wise to reconsider.”
“Are you threatening him? Is that why you are concentrating almost half of the army around Ormidon?”
It had sounded dangerously calm.
Tenaxos hesitated.
“All I'm saying,” he said slowly, “is that he would be prudent to look to the defenses of his borders.”
“I'm sure he has enough troops to defend the Renuvian Plains against any attack the Mukthars could mount. Besides it is highly unlikely that, after the shattering defeat they suffered at his hands, they—”
“Not those borders, woman,” Tenaxos interrupted her curtly.
Emelasuntha raised her eyebrows.
“If you mean the Amirathan border, you should realize that, just by calling them that, you implicitly recognize that the Marches are no longer part of Ximerion.”
“I don't want to attack him,” the high king said, ignoring the queen's barb, “but I will if he doesn't take the appropriate measures to defend himself.”
“Quit playing your silly games, Tenax,” Emelasuntha said, angry now. “You're going to attack, yet you aren't? What is the meaning of this? Another of your famous lessons? Stop speaking in riddles.”
For a moment Tenaxos felt tempted to do just that. Then he reconsidered.
“That would be… imprudent. I need you to convince him he is safe from any attack by me, as long as he shows me that he is prepared to defend himself. Let me spell it out. I want him to concentrate at least ten thousand troops along his southern border.”
The queen whistled.
“I see. If he does, you could invoke a clear and present danger to
declare war upon my son.”
“Damn it, woman, I just told you I won't attack provided he shows me his teeth.”
“Then why, Tenax?”
“I have my reasons,” the high king said, irked.
Emelasuntha remained silent, staring blankly at her husband, while her mind was furiously calculating.
“You want to have an army under the leadership of a victorious general as backup, ready to come to your assistance and as near as possible,” she finally said. “Is that it?”
“You're a smart woman,” was all Tenaxos replied, his face impassive.
“So, that's not it,”
the queen thought.
“No, it can't be. If it were
merely a question of strengthening his fighting force, why move half
his army away from the front? What then? Does he see Amiratha as
the last stronghold in case the war against Lorsanthia turns into disaster? An ultimate foothold? A strategy of desperation? It seems all
equally unlikely.”
She gave Tenaxos her most charming smile.
“Very well. I will try to convince Anaxantis to man his southern border. Mark you, I said try. I have not the slightest idea what weight my words will carry. You took my son away and now I'm left with a warlord on my hands. He has tasted command and power. Those are heady potions, as you know all too well.”