The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (16 page)

We Numantians were hated, as were all outlanders. A favorite slogan chalked or painted on any open wall was:
M’rt tê Ph’rëng!

Death to Outlanders.

It took little conversation in a tavern to find most Kaiti felt that meant
all
foreigners, without fear or favor. Whether you were Ureyan, Nician, Kallian, or any other Numantian, or Maisirian or any other breed, including natives of the other Border Regions, you were enemy, and legitimate prey, either by shortchanging or a spear through the chest.

There were other Numantians in Sayana besides our own soldiery and Tenedos’s retainers. There were about 300 civilians, in various occupations from merchant to mendicant to swordmaker to a handful who’d married Kaiti and come back to live with them or their children. Both Tenedos and I wished they would flee Sayana before the storm broke, but we could say nothing. In the event of catastrophe, it would be our duty to try to protect them.

One thing I could learn nothing about was the Tovieti. Mere mention of the word was enough to end a conversation and silence any tavern. There weren’t even any rumors to be heard — or at least none that would be repeated to a Numantian. However, Tenedos pointed out that this hushed silence
did
indicate the Tovieti were not a fever-dream creation of some Nician bureaucrat. “All information, my good Damastes, is valuable,” he said. “Even in its absence.” I definitely was not cut out for a career in espionage.

I was able to find out a little about Fergana’s brother, Chamisso. He was mentioned in only two ways — mostly as if he were the biggest monster in the land. This came from anyone who held any position of authority, or anyone who wasn’t sure of the allegiance of the person he was speaking to. Other people, servants and workers, the poor, spoke of him as if he bore all the virtues of the Fergana family, while his brother, the achim, had all the evil. This was not a good sign: It was clear the Pretender in the Hills was far more popular than the court believed, and that popularity was growing.

I allowed my Lancers to go out only in fours or more, with at least one warrant in each group. They didn’t like that much, and Captain Mellet thought I was being overly severe. But after a half dozen of his infantrymen were nearly beaten to death in “spontaneous” tavern fights, he gave similar orders.

Not that many of my men wanted to go outside the compound anyway. I set up our own tavern, bought wine and spirits in bulk, and sold them just above cost. Food, well cooked in the Numantian manner, was always available from our kitchens.

As for sex, there were the whores the KLI had brought with them, and the native staff was mostly women. Since they were in the employ of Irshad or Fergana’s spymasters, they’d been chosen as much for their social abilities as cleaning talents. They were almost all young, quite striking, and most friendly.

Whatever arrangements they made with my men was not my business, and so I made no inquiries as to who slept where when he was off duty. I’d been taught, in the academy, that spies value pillow talk, and worried for a few days until I hit the obvious solution: Pillow talk is completely harmless if the talker doesn’t know anything important.

We had few secrets, really, and most of those we did were held by Laish Tenedos, myself, and Captain Mellet. There were other things an enemy might wish to know that a foolish lance might confide, such as when guards were changed, or where the posts were, but those I changed frequently.

I, myself, slept alone, remembering my father’s teachings, although I still recollect one young woman, one responsible for the floral arrangements in each room. She was dark, with a quick and easy smile. She also had roseate nipples and curvaceous legs that I saw once when she’d “thought I was out,” and changed her dress in my room — while I “just happened” to be drowsing in the bath. I am sure we would have ended in the same bed in time, but time was not there.

I was a bit surprised by Laish Tenedos; more than once I saw women slip into or out of his quarter at an unseemly hour, and once I heard a bit of a giggling conversation when I passed by a larder: “Ay, yes, th’ wizard’s ripe for love, an’ with an eye for th’ unusual, but there’s one strange — ” but my footfall was heard so I never learned what was unusual. But the more I thought on it, the less it mattered. Tenedos was not married, or if he was he never spoke of his wife. What did it matter whether he slept alone or with someone? Kaiti customs were hardly straitlaced, and the higher in society the more open they were. I paid no more mind to the matter. He was my superior, and besides I assumed he had sense enough not to babble in his lustiness.

Suddenly I had other things to contend with.

• • •

It was well after midnight, and I was sitting with Tenedos in his study when the screams came.

We were relaxing after a long day with one of Achim Fergana’s greedier assistants working on a proposed pact, where-in Numantia would agree to provide a sizable amount of gold to the achim, in exchange for which he promised to do “all that lay within his powers and authority” to dissuade the Men of the Hills from raiding into Urey. Tenedos wanted a more concrete assurance, such as the achim’s willingness to permit cross-border pursuits or even cooperation with our border-patrol units such as the Lancers, and the achim just wanted more gold.

I was listening to Tenedos hold forth on just what was wrong with the way Numantia was ruled, and how each of the states must be required to provide more support for their kingdom, for which they’d receive far greater benefits than at present, when the peaceful night air was ripped apart by screams.

Before the echoes died, I was up and out, bare sword in hand. The screams came from belowstairs, in the building we were in. I heard shouts of the duty warrants turning out the guard, and outcries from civilians.

The screamer was on the first floor, standing just outside the entrance to Eluard’s quarters. It was one of the scullery wenches, and I wondered why she was abroad at this hour.

She was hysterical, and could only point inside.

I pushed her aside and went in.

The apartments were very luxurious — as plush as those of Tenedos. Eluard’s little thieveries mounted into quite a sum, I saw.

Slumped in a fat padded chair was Eluard.

Two glasses of liqueur were on the table in front of him. One, the closest to him, had been drained. The other was full to the brim.

The ends of a long, yellow silk cord dangled on his chest, and the cord was buried in the folds of his purpled neck. Eluard’s tongue protruded grotesquely, as did his eyes, and I smelled shit from the voiding of his bowels.

He was still warm to the touch, but very, very dead.

There were people behind me in the doorway, and I heard that word that didn’t exist in Sayana:

“Tovieti!”

An hour later the body was gone, reluctantly lugged away by what the Kaiti called their wardens. They were terrified of touching the corpse, and refused to offer any explanation of what could have happened, nor any theories as to why Eluard would have been a target.

All of the estate’s gates were still locked or barred from the inside.

The wardens made no attempt to search the house or interrogate any of the staff. The wench had been one of Eluard’s bed companions, and this was her night to sleep with him, no more.

I made brief inquiries of the warrants of the watch, and ordered a close check of the building for previously unnoticed entryways, but doubted I’d find anything with such a physical search.

What clues might be discovered were in that silk cord.

It lay across Laish Tenedos’s desk. He had both of the trunks that held his magical implements open, and an assortment of tools ready. He’d cleared the rugs back from the floor, and scribed certain symbols within a small triple circle that held a triangle inside its innermost round. For some reason, looking at those unknown characters sent a slow chill along my spine, and I tried to keep my eyes away from them.

He had a small brazier on his desk, and was adding herbs to it from vials. I saw the labels on a few:
Wormwood, Broom, Mandrake, Elder, Maidenhair.

He finished and set the brazier at one point of the triangle. He took the Tovieti’s silk strangling cord and then stood in the circle with his feet touching the other two tips.

“Now, my friend, if you’ll be good enough to take that taper and hold it to the brazier when I tell you, I would be appreciative. After that, please have your dagger ready. If anything … unforeseen happens, or if it appears I am in any danger, you must cut through all three rounds of the circle. Please do it quickly, because events might occur rather rapidly and I feel I am going in harm’s way.”

I nodded understanding. I was far more nervous than Tenedos — I’d never even been present at a magical rite, let alone assisted in one.

“Light the brazier.” Tenedos’s voice was calm.

I did, and jumped back as a blue flame roared up and touched the ceiling, but it was a heatless flame.

Tenedos began chanting:

“Now we go

To the heart

Whence you came

Where you were gifted.

“With your brothers

With your sisters

Whence you came

Now we go.”

The flame lowered, but still was the height of a man. More flames appeared, around each circle that had been chalked onto the floor, and darted around them as if they were being chased or were chasing.

Dark-green fire flashed at each of the triangle’s tips, and then it was as if Tenedos vanished.

He still stood there, but his spirit was elsewhere. His head moved, back and forth, and I was reminded of a hawk, looking down from the sky for his prey. His gaze swept back and forth, then looked up, as if the “hawk” were approaching a cliff. His lips drew back, in a snarl, half fright, half rage, and he shuddered.

I started to make the cuts, but held back.

Again his eyes went back and forth, and then flared open, as if in astonishment. He gaped, and terror gripped him. His mouth came open to scream, and I slashed once, then again to make sure.

The fires vanished and Laish Tenedos returned. He dropped the silken cord and tried to take a step, but staggered. I helped him to his seat, and started to pour brandy.

“No,” he said, his voice a croak. “First, water.”

I poured a glassful, and he drained it, then another.

“Now I know our enemy,” he said, and his tones were grim. “But now … brandy. Pour yourself one.”

I obeyed, though I wanted it not. He sipped at his, gathering his thoughts.

“The Tovieti certainly do exist,” he said. “I followed the trail their strangling cord gave me to their stronghold. Or, perhaps, only one of their redoubts. It is in a great cavern, some distance from here. Perhaps two, perhaps three days’ travel, deep in the mountains. I suppose, with someone to help me with the maps, I could find it once more.

“I found the cave, and I entered it, but without using an entrance. There was a huge center room, and I noted passageways leading off to the side. I do not know where they lead.

“There were people inside. Men and women. A thousand at least, more likely more. They were all dressed in white, although some of them were quite dirty. I think all, or most of them anyway, were Kaiti. To one side was a great pile of gold, gems, other treasure.

“It seemed as if these people were waiting for something.

“There was a throne, man-made, and in front of it was what might be called an altar, but one such as I’ve never seen nor heard of. It was cylindrical, like a field drum, and quite high, perhaps twenty feet above the chamber’s floor.

“Standing around it were men and women, also wearing white, but each of them also wore a yellow sash. I think, although I may have imagined it, that one of them looked a great deal like a younger, and less rotund, Baber Fergana.”

“His brother,” I guessed.

“Perhaps. I tried to move my presence closer, and then someone … something … sensed me, for all at once the crowd began howling in rage. The people with the sashes — the leaders, I guess — seemed to see me, because they, too, shouted in rage, and began pointing at me.

“I wasn’t sure what to do, then a horrible feeling of dread washed over me. Dread, and then fear, as if I were suddenly confronted by a raging tiger.

“I was about to be seized and torn … and then you cut the circle and saved me.

“For the second time, Damastes. Once more and you shall have to adopt me, for only kinfolk should have such a debt.” Tenedos smiled weakly, trying to make a small joke.

I paid no mind to that.

“What was that something, sir? Another magician? Or magicians? Did you sense Irshad?”

“I don’t know. If another magician, a powerful one. Perhaps a group of sorcerers, or
jasks.

“All I know for sure is the Tovieti most certainly do exist, and, if their reaction to my presence is any indicator, are hostile toward Numantians or, at any rate,
this
Numantian. Perhaps if I wore a sign reminding everyone I am from Palmeras and am not much more fond of other Numantians than they are, I might be safe.” He shuddered and knocked back the brandy. “The Rule of Ten are not the panicky fools I feared they might be. There is something here, something dangerous. When we find a way to send a confidential pouch back through the pass, I shall inform the Rule of what occurred.”

“And as for ourselves?”

“I do not know,” Tenedos said. “The cord revealed no secrets as to how entry was made to this mansion by the assassin, nor if one of our retainers pulled the strangling cord tight. Their sorcery is thorough. I imagine the only reason I was able to track the cord to its home was there are few magicians here in Sayana with powers to match mine.

“As for what we do next, I can increase the magical wards I’ve placed around these buildings, but that’s nothing more than a temporary, defensive maneuver. All we can do is be most wary, and hope we will be able to discover their plans … if they pertain to us … before the Tovieti can put them into execution. My apologies. That last was a terrible choice of words.”