The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (65 page)

54
“You’ve tasted far worse,” Merw said, waving his remark aside in

an offhand way. He started fumbling with the laces of the count’s shirt, and, with the tip of his tongue hanging out of his mouth, he pulled the vestment off. His head shot downward and he started alternately nibbling softly on Rullio’s left nipple and teasing it with his lips. He maneuvered his lower body over the count, so that his dick dangled above Rullio’s mouth. Merw released Rullio’s belt, and leaning forward started to push down his pants. To get them off completely Merw had to leave the bed. Then he went over to the bathtub and returned with the sponge.

“What are you planning to do with that?” the count asked, trying not to sound too worried.

“Relax, I’m just using the animal to wash your dick,” Merw replied.

“It’s not as if I’m going to ram it up your hole,” he scowled. When he was finished he took a step back to admire his handiwork. “Look how glad it is for being all clean.” He grinned, self-satisfied. “Let’s have a taste,” he added, jumping back on the bed, tossing the sponge carelessly on the floor.

Rullio slept in late, and it was almost noon when he woke. The combination of sheer exhaustion and the relief of holding Merw in his 54
arms had made his sleep untroubled and dreamless for the first time

in weeks.

He yawned and stretched himself, then rubbed his eyes. Last night, out of habit, he had emptied his purse on the table. Something was wrong. There seemed to be more coins than he had left there. He looked under the blankets, and sure enough, all rolled up there lay Merw. When the boy was fully awake and had clambered up in the bed, Rullio pointed to the money.

“Ah, yes, I put what I had left of your money there,” Merw said.

“And I left mine there for you to steal,” Rullio replied.

“So? Now there is more for me to steal, isn’t there?”

Rullio thought for a moment.

“That makes perfect sense. Very smart of you, kitten. But meanwhile I don’t want you walking around with an empty purse.”

Merw looked at him, squinting his eyes.

“I will not be a kept guy, Rullio. Are you fucking trying to buy me, or what?”

“No, no,” Rullio replied as fast as he could. “I wouldn’t dream of it, kitten. But you do things for me and you give me advice—”

“To which you never listen,” Merw interrupted him.

“Still,” Rullio pleaded, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable having you do all that for me and me not paying my debts. I would be taking advantage of you, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes, you would. Yes, you would,” Merw cried out. “I won’t be taken advantage of, Rullio,” he added, wagging his finger in the count’s face. “I just fucking won’t. Nice try but no dice.”

“Then there’s nothing for it, I suppose, but to pay you an honest salary,” Rullio replied. “Just take half of what’s on the table by way of 55
arrears,” he added, and he sighed. “But from now on you can pay for

your chestnuts and other snacks yourself, you hear?”

“I will. I will. I so fucking will.” Merw grinned. Then he put his arms around the count’s neck and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“Thank you, Rullio, for letting me rob you blind.”

“You’re very welcome, kitten.”

“What?” Rullio exclaimed, making several heads turn in their direction.

“What, what?” Merw asked, stealing a chicken wing from Rullio’s plate.

“You knew they were soldiers, and you went after them anyway?

That was dangerous, Merw,” Rullio hissed, trying not to attract any more attention from the other patrons of the tavern.

The youngster shrugged.

“They never saw me, Rullio. I was ever so careful. Even the other one following them didn’t see me.”

“The other one?”

“A guy about your age. Looked a noble too, or rich. He had red curly hair, with white tips. I bet you never saw hair like that before.”

“Yes, I did,”
Rullio thought, feeling a pang in his heart.
“Gorth.”

“From my hiding place I could hear some of what they were saying.

They were going back south, to the king’s oldest son, by way of the Morradennes, whatever they are,” Merw continued.

“It’s a mountain range. Wild country. Almost uninhabited. At the eastern border,” Rullio mumbled, filling Merw in while pondering what he had just heard.

55
“That’s good news, isn’t it? It means they’re not going to make war

on your royal friend and his brother, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so, kitten,” Rullio replied. He smiled. “I think I’d better take Ehandar the good news. I’ve got some other stuff to discuss with him anyway. You coming?”

“Of course I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m not letting you out of my fucking sight again, Rullio. You’re far too irresponsible to be left going about the country on your own. All kinds of things might happen. And what then? Eh? Eh?” Merw grabbed the last chicken leg of Rullio’s plate. “Ooh, ooh, I’m going to meet a real prince? I never met a real fucking prince. What do I call him? Do I kiss his hand? His ring?”

“Just don’t call him ‘fucking prince,’ kitten. He’s a friendly guy, and he isn’t a stickler for etiquette.”

“Etiquette? What the fuck is that? Never mind. I’ll need a horse, of course.”

“A horse, of course.” Rullio sighed. “We’ll hire them from the Guild. After I’ve delivered my message in Lorseth, we could go to my demesne of Aldemon. It’s high time I officially take possession of it.

Unless you need to come back to Ormidon.”

“Nah. I may be a sophisticated citizen of the big city, but I fancy some change of scenery.”

“You’re sure you won’t miss Ormidon? It has been your home since you were born after all.”

Merw looked the count in the eyes.

“Home is where you are, Rullio.”

The next day, Rullio settled his bill at the Leather Bucket, and, after a last visit to his bankers to collect his money and valuables, he and Merw went to the Guild Station.

55
“You’re in luck, My Lord,” Grallam said. “There’s a caravan leaving

from Troncton for Dermolhea tomorrow. You should be able to join them.”

“Right,” Rullio replied. “We’ll need to hire two horses then.”

“Can we hire Horsey for me, Rullio?” Merw asked.

“Horsey?” the count inquired.

“He means the horse we use for riding lessons,” Grallam volunteered.

Rullio gave the stable hand a questioning look.

“I suppose in a pinch he is for hire, My Lord,” Grallam replied. He didn’t seem very interested. “I’d have to ask the Station Master though. Does the young gentleman realize that eventually he’ll have to return it to a Guild Station?”

Merw bit his lip, and gave Rullio a half unsure, half pleading look.

“Is the animal for sale?” the count asked.

The Station Master had to be brought in to decide that, but after some mild haggling Rullio was able to buy the horse for a reasonable price and a stallion for himself for a far less reasonable price.

“It’s not even that good a horse,” Rullio said.

“Horsey likes me,” Merw replied by way of only explanation, softly stroking the animal’s muzzle.

“I keep telling him that that horse likes those apples and carrots the young man keeps feeding him more than he likes him.” Grallam rolled his eyes at Rullio.

“Horsey likes me,” Merw insisted. “Pay the man, Rullio, so we can be on our way. I need to buy a few apples and carrots.”

55
The camp of Prince Tenaxos, hidden in a valley at the foot of the

Morradennes, was bustling with activity.

From up the mountains, small groups of soldiers were arriving daily. They were given a designated place on the grounds of the camp to erect their tents, and almost immediately were put through a series of training sessions, which took the form of a friendly competition, but in reality were nothing of the sort. Both their physical fitness and their ability with weapons were tested several times over, watched closely by their officers. At least one of these sessions was attentively studied by the prince in person. Tenaxos made sure the soldiers knew he was taking a personal interest in them.

Those with a natural aptitude for archery were singled out and moved to a separate enclosure within the camp where they were trained intensively in marksmanship. They were treated as elite soldiers. Their food was better and their regime was more lenient than that of the rest of the troops, and they were told so. All that was required of them was excellence in archery and blind obedience during practice. In whatever free time they had, they could very much do as they pleased. Much the same was meted out to and expected from those who had a natural horse riding ability.

The rest were divided into regiments and put to a stern regimen of long close-range-fighting exercises, alternated with even longer forced 55
marches. By way of diversion there were sessions of mountain climbing. Their food was simple and boring, but nutritious. The strictest discipline was demanded and even small transgressions were punish— able by death. They were told repeatedly by their junior officers that the waiting game of years was over, and soon they would confront the enemy.

“It all seems to be coming together nicely,” Wendo of Offlighem said.

“Yes,” Seph of Gisswing replied, not as sure, “but I’m worried whether it will be enough. Fifteen thousand men. Who knows what forces Lorsanthia will be sending against us.”

Both men looked at Prince Tenaxos. They were sitting on horseback, overlooking the archers’ exercise.

“It doesn’t matter too much.” The prince shrugged. “We’ll be cutting off a part of their army. Those units we let through, we will destroy in a more or less regular battle. The others we’ll take with hit-and-run tactics. We’ll give them no rest. We’ll attack them while they are trying to dislodge their train from the mud, while they’re taking care of their wounded, and while they’re retreating.”

“Isn’t it enough we chase them back over the border?” Wendo asked. “Why waste effort on an enemy who is on the run and has stopped fighting, Tenax? They’re no immediate danger anymore.”

“No, but they could become dangerous again if we let them escape.

I want our victory to be total. I want as many as possible of them killed. Without distinction of rank. I want to put the fear of Zardok in-to them.”

“It’s doubtful we’ll get them all to the last man,” Seph proffered.

“Some are bound to escape.”

55
Tenaxos gave him a confident smile.

“Yes, those who can run hardest will escape. I want them to return home with stories of unspeakable horror. I want to ingrain in the minds of the Lorsanthian High Command that an attempt at conquer— ing Ximerion is no walk in the park. They seem to think we are little more than savages. We’ll show them just how savage we can be. It is they who wanted this fight, and a fight they will get. To the last man if necessary. There will be no negotiations. At most I will accept unconditional surrender.”

Wendo looked at his friend with a mixture of admiration and skepticism.

“I never saw this in you, Tenax,” he said.

“All good and well, in principle,” Seph intervened, “but have you considered what happened with Trachia? Lorsanthia kept up the pressure. Sure, once and again they lost a battle, but Trachia lost more of them and could far less afford to lose men. Aren’t we in a similar position?”

“That’s exactly why we need to make a devastating first impression.

That’s why we can give no quarter. Those who surrender, we'll execute.

The same goes for those of lower rank, but noble extraction. The rest will be marched through the Morradennes to a few selected slavers in some of the independent city states.”

“That’s harsh,” Wendo said. There was a waft of admiration in his voice.

“What are you trying to prove? That you’re a real Tanahkos?” Seph added, but in a jocular way. “Nobody is doubting that.”

Tenaxos laughed.

“It can do no harm to remind people of the ways of the House of Tanahkos,” he replied. “It’s not only that, Seph. The money will come 55
in handy. Father doesn’t need to know just how many we captured and

sold off. I want to have my very own little war chest.”

“Some could escape, though,” Wendo proffered.

“Not only that,” Tenaxos concurred. “It’s very well possible that a few of them, of rich families, manage to convince their new masters that they’re worth much more in ransom money than as simple slaves.

Good for them. I
want
them to return, months, maybe more than a year later, with stories of how their officers were summarily hanged like common thieves and the rest of them sold into slavery. I want proud Lorsanthia to know that we will stop at nothing.”

“Hangings, Tenax? They’re nobles after all.” The viscount of Offlighem recoiled at the idea of seeing nobles swing from the gallows. It was a visceral reaction, born out of class solidarity.

“It’s what they themselves did to the youngest prince of the House of Ynnocas. Did they show any mercy? Any deference to his royal rank?” Tenaxos bit, enraged. “And it is us they call savages.”

“I hear he was barely fourteen years old,” Seph said in a low voice, looking down.

“They didn’t care,” Tenaxos shouted, becoming more agitated with each word. He made a fist, holding it in the general direction of Lorsanthia. “But they made a mistake. This is not the House of Ynnocas they’re provoking, but the House of Tanahkos. No mercy. No quarter. We’ll flood the Arkhasaro Valleys. If necessary we’ll scorch the fields and kill the livestock, forcing them to haul their rations and equipment from Lorsanthia itself. Their supply lines will be long and thin, and we’ll attack them at their weakest points, burning everything and killing everyone. We will ambush stragglers and provisioning units, and disappear again before they’re even missed. We will send groups of archers in the middle of the night to set their sleeping quarters on fire from a safe distance. Before long they will wish they were marching through Murokthil instead of Ximerion.”