The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (52 page)

He would miss Anaxantis so, so much.

It was almost a regression to the times when he was growing up.

He had been so immeasurably alone, back then. Not knowing who to trust, barely realizing what was expected of him, his mother dead, his father absent, his older brothers potential enemies. Yes, there had been his friends, but he hadn’t dared confide in them. Not completely.

Not about everything. It wasn’t so much them he hadn’t trusted, but himself. His lack of trust in himself hadn’t destroyed their friendship, but it definitely had marred it. He knew the companions his father had chosen for him had liked him, but they in turn had always sensed there was a barrier. A point, beyond which no one could penetrate. Except Gorth, maybe, because he didn’t care whatever there was to be found out. Gorth had always been content to leave that part his friend wished to keep private alone, without letting it damage his friendship or his loyalty. Both of which he had given in more than generous measures. And Rullio. Rullio who was probably never deceived by his at times reserved demeanor, but just didn’t care.

But now there was Anaxantis. The only one who could truly understand. Ehandar hadn’t seen it before. Maybe because Emelasuntha had almost certainly killed his mother. Because he had been taught to value physical prowess, and Anaxantis had been weak. Because from early on, they had told him that any relative in his family could become a mortal enemy in the blink of an eye. Because as a prince, he felt a fraud, a usurper. His grandfather had taken the Devil’s Crown by 44
force, and his father hadn’t even been born a prince. As a result,

Ehandar had always harbored that nagging feeling that he was just an impostor, about to be found out.

He had felt so confused by it all. Confused, and if the truth be known, afraid. He had never permitted himself to show it. Instead, he had hidden behind an impassive, almost austere posture, and never had dared let go of his composure. Rullio had seen through it of course, and so had Gorth. There had been a few others, probably dead now for the crime of knowing him.

Suddenly, he realized that, although all this was true, there was something else. He hadn’t dared explore his feelings for his younger half brother. It had taken the distance from the court, the remoteness, the danger, the desperation, the madness… and it had all gone so wrong. And yet so right. So right.

Anaxantis had chased away all the ghosts and all the fears. Or had he? Maybe he just had made them seem manageable. By example. But most of all, he had done away with the confusion, that thick mist that had surrounded his days at court. Anaxantis undoubtedly had his darker sides, but he could also be so innocent, naive almost. Ehandar knew by the very fact that Anaxantis could hate so intensely and would go to any length to make good on his threats, he also spoke the truth when he professed his love. And Anaxantis loved Ehandar, as Ehandar loved Anaxantis. That was the focal point. That was what brought order to this bewildering, baffling world. And he needn’t worry whether it was true or not. It was.

Anaxantis had said so.

Ehandar knew why his brother had wanted him to take up command over the border regions. Anaxantis wanted to restore his love’s self-confidence, his self-worth.

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He smiled.

It was so unnecessary. The most important thing in this life, all he had ever wanted, he already possessed. He didn’t mind the rest. He knew they both came from a background that by all reckoning should have made them despise love as a foible, a weakness. A background that valued strength, cunning and ruthlessness. Anaxantis wanted it all, it seemed. He wanted to hold on to the values that had brought the House of Tanahkos to the throne, all the while reaching for the better, higher things. Overreaching maybe.

As for himself, Ehandar was quite content to be Anaxantis’s life partner. He wasn’t envious, partly because he knew the price of lofty ambitions. He just wanted to see his love smile, feel his gray-blue eyes rest on him, sit and lie near him and hold him. Love him. At all cost.

At any price.

Anaxantis wanted him to take pride in his task, to feel needed, to feel competent. To feel a lord governor and a prince again. And for that he seemed to think they needed to be apart for some time. It wasn’t true and it wasn’t necessary. It also didn’t matter. When all was said and done, it was what his brother wanted, and what Anaxantis wanted, Anaxantis must have.

The weeks without him, though filled with activity, would be lonely, he knew. But his love would come back. He was certain of it. As soon as Anaxantis had finished his grand tour of the country, he would come, and he would find the border and Marna-Dryff in perfect condition.

And he would find Ehandar waiting for him.

44
Three figures stood in the middle of an open field, not far from the

pages’ barracks. They were protected from the wind by their black mantles. They had donned their hoods, though it wasn’t raining.

“Why do we have to meet here?” Grenn of Wirringhall asked with chattering teeth. “I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Because it’s safer,” Brand of Gisswing replied.

“Safer? We’re standing in an open field. Anybody could see us.”

“It’s the middle of the night, and besides they would only see us from afar. The important things is they can’t overhear us,” Boduwald of Semlar retorted.

“It’s not as if we’re doing anything wrong, is it? We’re just standing here and talking,” Brand added.

“I wish I knew what we are talking about,” Grenn muttered, wrapping himself tighter in his cloak and stamping on the ground.

“Isn’t it obvious? Weren’t you there this afternoon?” Boduwald scoffed. “Finally, things are moving in the right direction. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. Ehandar seems to have taken things in hand. This is an important development.”

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“Can’t you see, Grenn, that this changes everything?” Brand asked.

“It seems we’re recruiting an awful lot of new soldiers, and they’re all going to be stationed at the border. I imagine there will be a war chest as well. A well-filled war chest. Ehandar will be controlling the most important fighting force of the entire region, next to that of the high king himself.”

“Yes, maybe,” Grenn said, not totally convinced, “but didn’t he say that he was asked by the warlord to take this command? Wouldn’t that mean that Anaxantis remains the commander in chief after all?”

“It is possible he just said that to keep up appearances, you know,”

Brand replied. “Exactly the same as what they did a year ago. The little brother acts as a figurehead, while the older one manages everything behind the scenes.”

“We don’t know for certain that it happened like that,” Grenn pointed out. “They both keep very quiet about what exactly went on.

Haven’t the two of you noticed that all that is known are but general and vague rumors? Nothing is ever officially confirmed.”

“Of course not,” Boduwald said, growing impatient. “You have to look at the broader picture. The northern border is secure and we have a firm foothold here. The fight with the Mukthars was blown out of all proportions because it served as an excuse to justify the levying of the tribute.”

“It all fits, Grenn,” Brand added. “Like Boduwald said, the northern border is secure and there is no possibility of a Mukthar threat in the foreseeable future. You would think that was reason to lower, or even simply abolish the tribute. Instead they are raising it. Why is that, you think?”

“Simple. The threat now comes from the south,” Grenn replied.

“What threat?” Boduwald cried out. “There is no threat whatsoever but the one they are inventing to raise the tribute. Don’t you see what 44
a stroke of genius it is? The king and his two oldest sons are penned

down at the far southern border of Ximerion. Meanwhile, we will be recruiting and training new troops. It’s as clear as the day is long. This is a major step towards the throne. That’s what it is.”

“While the high king and his two oldest sons will grow weaker, we will grow stronger,” Brand said.

Grenn of Wirringhall remained silent, deep in thought.

“Fine. For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. Even so, the question remains who will be making this famous step forward. Anaxantis or Ehandar?”

“That’s where we come in, isn’t it?” Boduwald said. He chose his words carefully. “Ehandar is a fine guy, and he will make a terrific king. I’m not just saying that because he honored us with his friendship. His loyalty to his little brother is laudable. In fact, it is one of the qualities that makes for a great monarch, but it is misguided in this case. Understandable, but unwise. There can only be one king. Maybe it’s our task to make him see that he has some backing of his own.”

“That’s it, Grenn,” Brand added. “Nobody is saying Anaxantis is negligible or anything like that. He will make a decent viceroy of the Renuvian Plains or something.”

“I was under the impression he was the warlord of Great Renuvia, which encompasses not only the Plains, but also the Highlands,”

Grenn said in a deadpan voice, looking at them without blinking an eye.

Boduwald made a disparaging gesture.

“Great Renuvia is only a transitional state for something greater.

Believe me on this. Look at it as a bargaining chip. A veiled threat. It will, no, it must end in Great Ximerion.”

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“Say one word more and you’re talking treason. High treason, at

that,” Grenn retorted with one raised eyebrow.

“Nobody here is talking treason, Grenn,” Brand said, trying to assuage the situation. “We’re just exploring possibilities here.”

“All right, Grenn, then answer me this,” Boduwald said. “There must have been good reasons for Ehandar to let Anaxantis take the lead against the Mukthars. But you’ll have to agree that things have changed. Anaxantis may still bear the title, but Ehandar is keeping the troops for himself, and he means to train them himself as well. His brother apparently agrees, or more likely, has to accept this course of action. Why is that do you think?”

Grenn’s expression didn’t betray anything.

“I don’t know. It could mean a lot of things,” he said eventually.

Boduwald let out a cry of frustration. Brand tried to pour oil on the waves.

“We’re not proposing anything drastic, let alone treasonous,” he said in his best conciliatory tone. “Ehandar has asked us to come with him, and he wants us to help him. He practically told us to choose which of the other pages are to come with us. He trusts us, and he needs us. I think we should honor that trust.”

“Yes, of course,” Grenn said, still not totally convinced. “It’s true.

He did ask us to come with him, and he did tell us to make him a list of guys we think are suited to come along. He left it to us.”

Boduwald opened his mouth to add something. He felt Brand’s hand gripping his wrist.

“That’s all we’re saying, Grenn,” he said, in an unusually soft tone.

“We have to take this seriously, wouldn’t you agree? And we should be careful whom we suggest he takes along. What do you say the three of 44
us make a draft, then we’ll run it by the others before we propose it to Ehandar?”

“I can see no harm in that,” Grenn answered. “Can we go back now? I’m cold through and through. I still don’t see why we had to have this little chat in this field, exposed to all the elements.”

He turned around and started to walk back to the barracks with brisk steps.

The other two deliberately kept a few paces behind him.

“That could have gone better,” Brand said, in a near whisper.

“Yes, it could have, but we need him. He has a lot of clout with the others, especially the Northerners. If we want the Highlands to have a prominent position in the next reign, we can’t do without him. Never mind, he’ll come to see things our way soon enough. I can’t imagine the future count of Wirringhall can be satisfied with how things are going in the Highlands. Proud, independent cities and a nobility practically emasculated by the warlord.”

“The latter is a general ailment for the whole of the realm. Just a few generations ago the high kings were dependent upon our swords.

Now, all they want is our treasury.”

“Precisely. And they rule through commoners who have only the king to thank for their station in life. The most galling aspect of all this is that they use our own money to snub us.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“So, you want Ehandar to become the next king, not so much because he is the stronger of all the royal princes, but…” Deep in thought, Brand let the sentence trail off.

Boduwald smiled thinly, although Brand, who was minding his steps in the dark, didn’t notice.

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“We’ve got a golden opportunity here, Gisswing. Don’t you want to

be lord and master in your own demesne when you inherit it? Like in the time when the title of marquess meant something?”

“Yes, yes, of course I want that. You think it’s even possible?”

“If we play our cards right.” Boduwald threw an arm around Brand’s shoulder. “First we have to see to it that the majority of Ehandar’s squires are Northerners, or at least people who are agreeable to change in the right direction. Then it’s only a matter of making ourselves indispensable to the prince. We have to let him feel that we have his back, that he can depend on us. Over time we can bring him the support of most, if not all, of the nobility of the Highlands.”