The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (4 page)

“No, not at all. You’re all the same. Don’t you see what the great drawback is when you pay the low Dermolhean prices?”

“Can’t say I do, no. I prefer low prices. Always.”

“Yes, but in this case there is a small problem. The grain is in Dermolhea, my friend.”

“Ah… I see. And you have to transport it all the way to where the army is.”

3
“Exactly. And most of the army is in the Plains. Neither is it just a

matter of loading the stuff on wagons and off you go. The descent into the Plains from the Highlands is rather steep for wagons. We learned that the hard way, remember? I’m having a road built, an extension to the Northern Highway, but it’s not nearly finished. The construction of a more gradually descending slope seems rather tricky. Then there is the Mirax to manage. Making a long story short, you need a lot of people to help transporting that grain. People like to get paid, in my experience.”

He looked almost defiantly at Hemarchidas.

“So, the buying price is almost doubled if you add the cost for transportation?”

“Not quite, as Tomar very, very tiresomely and in a long-winded way demonstrated with complicated calculations.”

“He was right then?”

“No, he wasn’t. You see, if we can entice new people to come and work the land in the Plains, and grow all kinds of stuff, guess who gets to levy taxes?”

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed. New people equals new money.”

“Won’t you be losing those selfsame people, and their taxes, in Amiratha?”

Anaxantis put his right index finger against his nose.

“No, I won’t. It’s very difficult to sell your land in Amiratha for the moment. Prices are low. And, moreover, why would you? Most farmers are making a good living, and that won’t change anytime soon. No, I’m sending people, Clansmen, south of the Highlands to look for immigrants. Quietly, very quietly. You know, third and fourth sons who haven’t got a hope in Murokthil to inherit the farm. We’ll help them 3
establish themselves in the Plains. I’m in fact using the same principle

as grandfather applied to the old nobility.”

“At the same time weakening the economic power of the

Ximerionian demesnes and provinces at our southern border.”

Anaxantis gave him an innocent look.

“You think so?”

Hemarchidas laughed out loud.

“Yes, I think so, you little, sneaky devil.”

The little, sneaky devil joined in the laughter.

“What do you say we get some exercise?” the Cheridonian said.

Anaxantis had showered his friends with titles and domains.

Thanks to Lorcko of Iramid, who had explained to them how to be an absentee lord by choosing a good steward, none of them had taken up residence. They obviously preferred staying with their friend and paid only infrequent, short visits to the lands in their charge. He had given Hemarchidas several choices where to establish a brand new duchy.

The Cheridonian had chosen a vast stretch of land, bordering the Mirax, east of the main crossing.

“Why?” Anaxantis had asked. “There’s nothing there. Only prairies.

Grass, as far as the eye can see.”

“Something tells me,” Hemarchidas had answered, “that you will keep the place where the great bridge is being built for yourself. We’ll be neighbors. And I like grassy plains. They’re ideal for breeding horses. I’m a horse breeder, you know?”

“I know. And Bortram is a farmer. Why I went to the trouble of procuring you lot titles is beyond me. You just plan on keeping on doing what you were doing anyway.”

3
“You have to admit that having our own supply of horses has certain advantages.”

There was no arguing that.

All in all, Anaxantis was more than happy to keep his friends around him as much of the time as possible.

Ehandar, Rullio and Gorth had arrived at the training grounds, just when Anaxantis and Hemarchidas were calling the sword fighting a day. Ehandar tried to coax his friends into a friendly bout, but they both declined, preferring to watch the other men training. Lethoras took him up on his offer.

Meanwhile Hemarchidas and Anaxantis sat down against a tree to watch them.

Lethoras was a master fencer, and by now he was completely used to his artificial leg. Still, he adopted a style that didn’t require moving around too much. What Ehandar lacked in finesse, he made up for in force. At first he seemed to be on the defensive, but, as Lethoras soon found out, that was only a ploy to get to know his opponent and his moves better. Once he thought he knew what to expect, he began to launch attacks of his own, instead of only fending them off.

Hemarchidas whistled.

“Your brother is good with a sword. I thought he was losing from the very start, but now it seems they are about even.”

“Isn’t he just magnificent?” Anaxantis asked with undisguised pride, leaning against the Cheridonian’s chest.

“Well, magnificent…”

Anaxantis sighed. He had tried, tried so hard to integrate his brother and his friends into his own inner circle. He had organized little dinners so they could get to know each other. They hadn’t been a big 3
success, and he had gradually phased them out. Everybody did his best

to be civil, amiable even. He knew immediately that it was for his sake.

Without planning to, the attendees tended to flock together in two little groups. Ehandar, Gorth and Rullio sat together at one end of the table, and he ended up talking mainly to Tomar, Lethoras and Hemarchidas or who else of his own friends happened to be present.

Eventually he had stopped trying to mix oil and water, but he saw in his brother’s eyes that Ehandar was grateful for his efforts. In the end, he concluded, both groups hadn’t enough in common. Maybe, he hoped, they would grow closer with time and shared experiences.

“I’m sorry,” Hemarchidas said, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know, but you still see in him only the brute, the haughty prince.

Most of the time he just plays him, you know? For my sake.”

“That may be, but you told me yourself what he did to you. Maybe
you have forgiven him. I find that a lot more difficult,”
Hemarchidas thought.

“I do my best, Anaxantis, and I will keep on doing my best,” he said out loud.

“Also for your sake,”
he added silently.

“I know, and I love you for it.”

“Should you be sitting this close to me? Leaning on me? I don’t mind, of course, but won’t he be jealous?”

“Nah. He knows you’re my best friend. He knows he has nothing to be jealous about.”

“No, he hasn’t, has he?”
Hemarchidas thought, somewhat depressed.
“I hope he’s worth it.”

In the beginning it had been very awkward. Anaxantis had told him that he had confessed everything to Ehandar. Including that he, Hemarchidas, knew the truth. He understood that his friend needed to 3
clear the air, but was it really necessary to be so completely, embarrassingly honest?

“I think so,” was all Anaxantis had replied when he had asked.

“Surely, you haven’t told him about that night with Timishi? That was not your fault.”

Anaxantis had looked him in the eyes.

“What could I do? He asked. He asked if there had been anybody else. I couldn’t lie. I didn’t want to.”

“And?”

“I could see he was hurt, but he didn’t ask who it had been. I told him anyway. Then he just asked if Timishi had been nice to me. I said he had. He nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said and never brought it up again.”

So, Ehandar knew that Hemarchidas knew what had happened between him and Anaxantis. All of it. Every demeaning, shameful little detail. And Hemarchidas knew Ehandar knew he knew. It had taken all of Anaxantis’s charm and silent pleading to have them keep meeting. They themselves would probably have preferred to never set eyes on each other ever again. Once more, for his sake they kept up appearances. Anaxantis hoped that eventually they would grow to appreciate one another. He knew it wasn’t going to happen soon.

Ehandar was slowly being driven backwards under the fierce and able attacks of Lethoras. But the Cheridonian needed all his power and agility, and he was sweating. The prince, on the other hand, was retreating, light on his feet, while adroitly fending off the heavy blows, meeting force with equal force, and smiling all the way.

Tomar arrived at the training grounds with a preoccupied look on his face.

3
“Damn. More work for me, I bet,” Anaxantis said, righting himself

from his relaxed position.

“No, just a bit of news,” Tomar, who had heard him, said.

He sat down beside them.

“You know I had quite a few sources in the Royal Administration.

There aren’t many of them left by now. A few found other employ, some got promoted and were warned they should cease all communic— ations with me. One died. However, I’ve still got a few left, but not very high up the hierarchy. In fact, one is so low on the ladder that they use him as a glorified messenger boy. Granted, for rather important documents. We had a little chat and—”

“Out with it already,” Anaxantis interrupted him.

“I was just coming to it. You are familiar with the encampment near Ormidon?”

“Camp Prista? Yes, it’s where they gathered most of the Army of the South, before leaving for the border, isn’t it?”

“Correct. Well, it seems it will be used again shortly.”

“What? Is Father recruiting additional troops?”

“No, not exactly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Frankly, neither do I. It seems they’re readying the barracks for thirty-five thousand troops who are returning from the border.”

Anaxantis sat fully upright and stared with open mouth at Tomar.

“What’s happening? How is that even possible? That is almost half his army. Is he decommissioning the troops? Is there a peace treaty with Lorsanthia? A truce? Is he preparing to move against us?”

3
“I wish I knew, but I don’t,” Tomar said. “In fact, I asked the selfsame questions of my, eh, friend. He knew nothing further. It seems they’re playing this one close to the chest.”

Anaxantis took a deep breath. Then deep furrows appeared on his brow.

“What in heaven’s name is happening? Father is weakening the
southern border. Is he relying on the new and repaired fortifications,
or has he come to some kind of understanding with Vartoligor? That
would be highly unusual. In the past, the kings of Lorsanthia were
only appeased by unconditional surrender. Whatever the case, he
feels safe enough to send half his standing army inland. The question
is, will they remain there? Or is he indeed moving against us? Damn,
I have too many things going on to get involved in another conflict. I
want to build, not fight. On the other hand, Father must know that it
won’t be easy to enter the Highlands, if I were to decide to bar his
way. And Lorsanthia isn’t to be trusted. He knows that as well. In-ternecine strife would be a golden opportunity for them, and an excuse to break whatever treaty there might be is found easily enough.”

He looked up and saw his friends studying him.

“I don’t think there’s an immediate danger,” he said.

“At the very least the situation bears further investigating,” Tomar, who didn’t seem so sure, answered.

“I agree. Let me think about it. The first troops have yet to arrive at Ormidon. It’s not as if they’re standing at our borders, is it?”

It sounded more self assured than he felt.

3
Anaxantis had thrown his mantle, scarf and sword belt on the big

table when they returned home. He saw Ehandar picking them up and carrying them to the wardrobe.

He felt a pang of remorse.

“I’m sorry, love. I keep putting my stuff everywhere, instead of putting it in its place.”

“It’s no problem. I don’t mind,” his brother answered, putting both their mantles away and hanging the swords on a peg on the wall.

“I really don’t,”
he thought, surprised.
“I’m used to it.”

He saw his little brother had sat down in the big chair by the hearth and went over to him.

“It has been a beautiful day, but tiring. And you seem tense. Shall I give you a foot bath?”

“Oh, Ehandar, I don’t know. Do you really think you—”

“That’s a yes then,” Ehandar smiled, and he went to the bathroom.

Minutes later he returned, stark naked, carrying a basin, towels and soap.

“Love, what are you doing?” Anaxantis asked, surprised. “You needn’t—”

3
“I just don’t want to get my clothes wet,” his brother interrupted

him. “It’s just us anyway.”

Anaxantis didn’t answer. He saw Ehandar kneel, take off his boots, roll up his pants and gently guide his feet into the lukewarm water. He let his head fall backwards against the suspended cushion, letting out a deep sigh. It felt heavenly having his feet both washed and massaged by the experienced hands of his brother.

When he was finished and had set the basin aside, Ehandar climbed in his brother’s lap. Anaxantis looked up, surprised.

“He used to be ashamed to sit in my lap, naked like this.”