The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (15 page)

T
HE
D
ECEIVERS

As soon as we’d returned to the compound, Tenedos took me to his quarters, said a few quick words at each corner of the room to ensure there were no magical listeners present, and said, “I assume you were not wriggling your eyebrows from an itch, Damastes.”

“I was not. Perhaps I’ve a solution to our, er, embarrassment.”

“Tell me. I would far rather find a way around this quandary than be forced to confront it directly.” He smiled wryly. “What a strange predicament I am in. If my theory is correct, and the Rule of Ten wishes something to happen to me, I’m afraid the minor disaster of being rejected at Achim Fergana’s court would hardly be enough to send in the heavy regiments. It would, however, be enough to ruin my reputation in Nicias. I can hear the jests now — a highly trained seer, a great magician of Numantia, foxed in his first state assignment by a barbarian with dolls. Well, I
do not propose to fail,”
and steel was in his voice. “So what is your plan, my friend?”

“A question first, sir? When we first entered the city, and you turned the guards’ spearheads into gold, you held something hidden in your hand — held like this, am I correct?”

Tenedos nodded. “Good eyes, my friend. I held a small golden amulet that’s been given certain powers to transmute base metal, although of course the amount of magical energy required for the task makes it prohibitively expensive, or else the lowliest peasant’s geegaws would be golden, and the metal would lose all value.

“I assume, when you were a boy, the sleight-of-hand artists who attempted to deceive at the local bazaars hated you on sight.”

“Nosir. I never let on when I spotted how they did something. I told a friend once how a conjurer did a trick, and he got angry, and said he would rather not know where the scarves or doves are hidden. So I never did again. But I thought you were quite good — the only reason I could see what was in your hand was I was behind and to the side. If I’d been in front, like the Kaiti were … I would have seen nothing.”

“Still, I had best spent more time exercising my fingers,” Tenedos said. “No one likes to be found out. So you think my legerdemain might provide a solution?”

I explained what I had in mind. A smile slowly grew across Tenedos’s face.

“Indeed. That sounds a definite plan. I like it. I think it could well work, because I shall be performing in front of another magician, and no one is easier to fool than the man who himself wears a mask.

“Yes. However, I had best begin practicing. We will also need to involve your troop guide in our little conspiracy.”

Two days later, we returned to Achim Fergana’s court. This time, there were but the three of us. We arrived a little earlier than the hour set, and spent the time moving among the people of the court. There was quite a crowd that day — no doubt the thought of seeing the humiliation, one way or another, of the loathed Numantians guaranteed a crowd.

Tenedos was the perfect diplomat, speaking to a man here, a woman there, introducing himself as he went, pausing for a sweetmeat from one of the passing servitors, patting one of the court animals as it passed, Troop Guide Bikaner behind him like a proper retainer, and then there came a shouting of soldiers’ voices, and Achim Baber Fergana stalked into the room. Behind him was
Jask
Irshad.

Without preamble, he walked to the throne, and waited until all finished bowing, in our case, or prostrating themselves, as the Kaiti were required.

“Resident-General Tenedos,” his voice boomed, “you heard my orders two days gone. Are you now prepared to obey them, or are you defying my edict and our customs?”

“I still resent the implication I, or any of my retinue, would consider harming Your Majesty,” Tenedos said. “However, in the interests of national amity, I am prepared to agree.” He walked forward, and took from a pouch at his belt three tiny golden boxes. He opened them.

“Troop Guide Bikaner of Numantia, are you prepared to sacrifice for the good of the country you serve?”

“I am,” Bikaner said, and the slight quaver of his voice seemed real. He walked forward, and removed his helmet. Tenedos took a tiny pair of silver scissors from his pouch and, with a bit of difficulty considering Bikaner’s close crop, snipped off a bit of hair and let it fall into the box. He snapped the box shut, and touched it to his forehead.

“Nothing is in here that came from outside this court,” he announced, and set it on the edge of the dais.

“Legate Damastes á Cimabue, are you ready for this sacrifice?” Tenedos said.

“I am.”

Hair from my head was cut and put in another box, and again Irshad checked to make sure we had not somehow managed to substitute someone else’s hair that we’d brought into the castle with us. Then it was Tenedos’s turn.

When all three boxes were on the dais, Irshad stepped behind the throne and brought out three dolls. They were marvelously made, each of them not only exactly clothed as we had been at the previous ceremony, but the expressions on the ivory faces were very recognizable, although, truth to tell, I did not think I looked quite
that
young.

The clothing of each was opened, revealing that the dolls had been carved from wood. In the center of the wooden skeleton was a small hole stuffed with clay.
Jask
Irshad, his lips moving in an inaudible incantation, opened each of the boxes he’d been given, took out the bits of hair, and pressed them into the clay of the appropriate dolls.

He finished, and stepped onto the dais. Again he motioned, again the dais slid back and then, with another gesture, the miniature court was revealed.

Irshad put the three of us into the scene — just beside the doll that represented Landgrave Malebranche. Then the pit’s cover slid back, and the dais returned.

Irshad bowed.

“I thank you, in the name of the Most Bountiful of Monarchs, Achim Baber Fergana, and wish to congratulate you in being able to bask here and learn from his wisdom and decisions.”

“Very well,” Fergana said. “Enough of magic. Now, let us to business.” He sounded relieved, and I suspected that he, like many of us, was most uncomfortable around any sort of sorcery, even though it was intended to benefit him.

And so the slow dance of diplomacy was finally allowed to begin.

Our deception had succeeded.

• • •

Our tasks in Sayana were three-fold. First was to represent Numantia, and attempt to keep Achim Fergana from making any decision that would be harmful to our national interests. Second was to provide information on this new organization called the Tovieti. Third was the long-range and probably impossible job of trying to encourage the Kaiti to change their warlike ways, or at any rate direct them away from Numantia, especially Urey.

It had been five years since there had been a Numantian resident-general in Sayana. The previous holder of the office had died quite suddenly and mysteriously; we were variously told of drink, of an overly heavy intake of the spice leaves the Kaiti were partial to, or of some disease brought on by insanity. Tenedos said he believed none of them but had no conjectures of his own.

The Rule of Ten had given Tenedos the list of agents the previous resident-general had developed, and we were to contact them and put them back to work.

This was almost impossible, since any Numantian who went out of the estate was instantly spotted and followed, either by one of Irshad’s agents or by a mob that would grow in size and anger, shouting threats and hurling an occasional stone at the hated enemy.

But it took little investigation, no more than a cursory visit to the neighborhoods these agents supposedly lived in, to realize there was little need to worry about exposing anyone to the wrath of the achim and his torturers. Either the former resident-general had made up his spies entirely and pocketed their pay, or else they’d fled when he died — and I believed the former most likely. A stable in which the blacksmith was one of ours had burned to the ground. A tavern was now a fortune-teller’s shop. A residence where our man was described as a strapping youth held nothing but doddering crones.

If we were to have spies of our own, we would have to grow them from our own seedlings. Since I had little knowledge and less inclination for this dark world, we were severely handicapped, and I wondered why Tenedos’s retainers had not included an experienced warden who knew about informants and agents and duplicity. Tenedos himself, a bit shamefacedly, said he’d always been interested in spies, and had some theories, but this land was a terrible place to test them, so he’d be no real help.

We found out a great deal about
Jask
Irshad, and very little of it was favorable. He was the kingdom’s most talented sorcerer, and was also blindly ambitious. He’d come late to Achim Baber Fergana’s court, and some whispered that he’d waited to make his declaration until he was sure the achim had a firm hold on the throne. Since then, he’d ensured he was Fergana’s most needed servant, providing him not only with magical resources, but with a network of agents that ran from the top to the bottom of Sayana. I thought him a loathsome being, and he seemed to return the opinion. One of his few honestly held beliefs was a complete hatred of any non-Kaiti.

I mentioned my dislike once to Tenedos, and he shrugged, and told me he felt no particular hatred for the man. “He is, in his way, a patriot,” Tenedos said. “He is ambitious, but what of that? Aren’t we all? Frankly, I am learning some things from him, and I suggest, Damastes, you follow my example — I’ve found no man so monstrous that something in his character is not worth the study.” I had better ways to spend my time than studying a sewer, but kept that thought to myself.

My main concern was with our native soldiery, since they were the most dangerous, being close to us at all times.

I called them into the courtyard, and bade them watch while I put my own troop through a series of drills. They were unmoved, since they fought singly, and believed soldiers fighting in formation were no better than puppets. I then had the best of my swordsmen and fighters show their abilities. This the Men of the Hills understood, and were impressed by.

Next I invited their best bladesmen to try their skills, with sheathed blades, against my men. The hillmen did their best, but only beat my Numantians one out of four times.

Finally, I divided them up into small groups, did the same with my men, and set them against each other — one on one, one on two, two on one, three on one, and all the desperately unfair combinations that real war brings. Once more, they were bested by Lancers and the KLI.

I then put them in formation, and said I proposed to turn them into soldiers, and if any of them objected, they were welcome to leave Numantian employ. There were mutters and dark looks.

Before mutiny could develop, I announced the first four changes: Their old, reeking uniforms would be burned, and replaced with much smarter regalia Tenedos had sketched and ordered local seamstresses to make; their filthy quarters would be cleaned and painted by outside workmen and thereafter kept spotless; their cooks had been discharged as the incompetent slop-handlers they were and the men would now eat at the same tables and from the same menu as we did; and finally their wages would be increased 20 percent, paid weekly in gold.

This got the darkest of looks from their leader, Gyula Wollo, but the rest of the men were shouting enthusiasm.

While the romance still bloomed, I put my lance-majors and the KLI’s sergeants to work, drilling the tribesmen hard, but not that hard, and with orders never, ever to swear or treat these hillmen as if they were anything other than the noblest of Numantians. When my warrants were satisfied, I would order the levies to be integrated into the Numantian forces. Hopefully the tribesmen would learn how to soldier by example — and, of course, I would have the added security of having a trusted man at each hillman’s side at all times. A double advantage of this was that my men were also being trained, yet in a way that was fresh to them, so the various drills kept their interest.

I sent for Wollo, and informed him I would be making an accounting of the monies paid to the hill soldiers, to make sure there’d been no errors.

He glared at me. “S’posin’ that things don’t look straight,” he said. “Rememberin’ I’m not one f’r numbers.”

“You’ll have a chance to explain any discrepancies.”

“Y’know,” he tried, “there’s nobody honest in Sayana, so it wuz necessary sometimes t’slip a coin or two under th’ table.”

“No doubt,” I said. “If I have any questions, or if Resident-General Tenedos has, of course any explanations will be listened to.”

“E’en if it’s naught but my word?”

“You are an officer, and any officer under my command is assumed to always tell the truth, or else he’s cashiered. Besides, Resident-General Tenedos is a seer, a
jask,
and his sorcery can instantly scent the truth.

“An honest man has nothing to fear.”

Wollo tried for a smile, failed, and made his departure. Of course, he was gone by the time we shut the gates for the night, leaving his few possessions behind. But my investigation of the levies’ funds showed that, unless he were a complete wastrel, he would have been able to buy himself a new wardrobe handily — and a mansion to closet it in. I’d expected nothing different.

Similarly, Tenedos’s retainers put their efficient hands to work on the household staff, and little by little we made the Residency into a livable part of the world. They were given invaluable assistance from our castelan, Eluard, once he was assured we had no plans to audit
his
accounts. That thief was firmly on our side.

Time would bring even greater changes — but none of us was under any illusions that we would have that commodity.

It did not take spies, or magic, to realize that Sayana was seething. We dared not ride into the countryside, but assumed that whatever was happening in the capital would be occurring throughout the Border States. Worse, we heard feuds were being reborn throughout the country, with the promise that “all would be settled soon … when the Change came.” All Kait was abubble with the steam of war, as we’d seen coming through Sulem Pass.