The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (18 page)

My plan was very simple: to ride hard for that cavern Tenedos had “seen” in his vision.
Jask
Irshad and the mannequins must be somewhere nearby. I would strike at dawn as soon as we reached the cavern, find the mannequins, and steal them back. If we could not make our escape with them, if there was any free-running water, I could render the sorcelled objects harmless by casting them into it — something I remembered our village witch had told me.

My idea might sound absurdly simple, but I felt confident. Irshad and Chamisso Fergana would assume that everyone in Sayana, whether Kaiti or Numantian, would be paralyzed with fear and indecision. If we struck secretly and ruthlessly, the gods might favor the bold. Also, if we did nothing, there seemed no way to keep the government of Kait from tumbling and a bloody holy war against Numantia from begirining. I knew that we in Sayana would be the first to die. Viewed coldly, it was a case of a certain death in three days, or a possible one before that. The choice was easy.

There was no time to spare — if my idea had the slightest chance, it must be undertaken before anyone, either from Achim Fergana’s forces or from the rebels in the hills, could begin to think about what might happen next. I must be away before sunrise.

I was a bit surprised when Captain Mellet was the first to volunteer — he was hardly the sort I’d thought for a dashing raid. I refused him, and he, a bit sourly, said, “I suppose yet again I’ll be keeping the home fires toasty. Well, don’t let me stop you from having a good time,” and stamped away peevishly. From his command we chose Legate Baner, an exceptionally eager and boyish officer whom everyone, including myself, felt like an older brother to; Sergeant Vien, a deceptively fat man who moved like a snake; and six infantrymen, all of whom swore they knew which end of a horse ate, and which shat. I was taking foot soldiers as well as Lancers because I planned to approach our target on foot in the final stages.

From my own troop I took nine, making Troop Guide Bikaner senior warrant, and my choices included the always-glowering Karjan; Curti, my best archer; and the stolid Svalbard.

The five Kaiti were headed by Yonge, the sharpest of the hillmen, and the most likely to be worthy of command. With Tenedos’s permission, I promoted him on the spot to sergeant, and planned to commission him if we returned with our lives. To the demons with the whines I’d get from our masters in Numantia about so honoring one of the not-quite-equal Men of the Border States.

I took my men into one of the mansion’s libraries, where Tenedos had laid a spell guaranteeing there’d be no magical eavesdropping, and told them how I wished them armed and dressed. I watched closely as I spoke: Too often a man will volunteer in the heat of the moment, but once he realizes how hazardous the task, has qualms. If I’d seen the slightest tremor, I would have found some pretext to drop that soldier from the roll — there were many volunteers eager to replace the hesitant But all of the volunteers remained steadfast.

I went to my own quarters, followed by Karjan, to ready my own gear. Pinned to the door was a note to please go to the resident’s quarters at once.

I should have known what I would see when I entered his rooms. Instead of a well-dressed prosperous diplomat and magician, I was greeted with a scruffy-looking sort in sandy robes, hood, and sandals, who might well have been one of the Kaiti wizards who opposed us at the battle of the ford. “I promised you wards against any enemy being able to eavesdrop on your orders session in the library,” Tenedos said, a bit smugly. “I said nothing about myself. A very interesting plan you have, Damastes. It will be worthwhile to see how it develops. I, by the way, borrowed these rags from one of our gate-men — but he will have no memory of the loan.”

“Sir,” I said. “You cannot go with us. I will not permit it!”

“You,” Tenedos said, his voice suddenly frosty, “Legate á Cimabue, may offer all the suggestions you wish, but you cannot give me orders.”

“Oh but I can, sir. I was ordered by my superiors, whose orders I must follow exactly, to keep you from harm. And — ”

“And pahfiddle to that,” Tenedos said. “I am going with you for two very good reasons. First is that I am the only one who’s been to this cavern where the mannequins are most likely held. How were you proposing to find it?”

“I planned to ask you to pinpoint the location on a map. I assume your sorcery can relate actual locations to a topographic picture. Sir.” I was veering slightly toward insubordination.

“Perhaps, although you’ll not know this time. Second is that you are no magician, Legate, nor is any other Numantian besides myself. We will be opposed by sorcery, in case you’ve forgotten. The Tovieti use magic, as we discovered, and
Jask
Irshad is hardly a novice seer.”

“Sir. What happens if you’re killed?”

“Then you flee to Urey, give the Rule of Ten the gladdening news that will give them the excuse to mobilize the army, and probably get promoted.”

“Hardly,” I said. “I’d best die beside you.”

“How noble,” Tenedos said, a bit of a smile touching his lips. “Just as I’d expect from a dashing young subaltern of the cavalry.”

“Not noble, sir. They’ll flay me alive if I came back without you, and that’s a very slow death.” I was only half jesting. Certainly my career, such as it was, would be completely finished. Not that I was concerned about that — I had sworn to protect this gods-damned little magician, and he seemed determined to make me disobey my oath at every turn.

“Be that as it may,” Tenedos said, “I see you have no grounds to argue, since you’ve already changed the subject.”

It was true — logic and sense were in his camp. When I first thought out my plan as we rode back from Achim Fergana’s palace, I’d wondered just how I’d deal with Irshad’s magic, and vaguely thought I’d ask Tenedos for a protective spell or something.

Since I’d learned well from my father not to argue with a superior when his mind is set, and also never to belabor a cause that’s lost, I came to attention, clapped my fist against my chest, and said, “Very well, sir. Please be ready to move out within the hour. I’ll have a horse and provisions ready. One other thing — you are now under my command, in
all
matters save the application of magic. Is that understood?”

Now Tenedos’s smile was very broad. “Yes, Legate á Cimabue,
sir.
I’ll obey precisely, Legate á Cimabue.
Sir.”
I swear the man was as excited as any recruit horseman who’s about to see his first action.

Less than an hour later, as villainous a crew as the mansion had ever seen was gathered in the courtyard: twenty-two hill bandits, raffish in their dirty robes, and dripping weapons. The robes, hoods, and sandals were most authentic, perhaps a little too much so, I thought, scratching at a Kaiti flea who’d decided Numantian blood was palatable, and wrinkling my nose a bit at the smell. Under the light-brown robes we wore loin-clothes and our own chain mail shirts. On our heads were the hoods most Kaiti travelers wore, and we had strapped boots on our feet. For warmth, we wore heavy sheepskin jackets.

We’d rough-curried our horses to look a bit like the ragged mounts of the Kaiti, although they were still too clean and well groomed to stand a close examination. Each man had two horses, not only for a reserve, but to carry the mannequins back, if we gained our objective. Our provisions were in saddlebags and we had sleeping robes rolled behind our saddles.

All of my Numantians had been given the Spell of Understanding earlier, although they hardly had the accents of native Kaiti when they spoke. Tenedos himself spoke like a native; he must have either studied the language hard or, more likely, finely honed the Understanding Spell to perfection. We also could use Sergeant Yonge or one of the other Kaiti soldiers.

Our arms were Numantian, but we had no intention of passing that close a scrutiny.

It was as well that Tenedos was accompanying us, since I’d looked at the only map I could find of the region. Beyond the thin track that led back into the hills, and some roughly sketched-in villages, it told me nothing.

Tenedos had asked how I planned to slip out of the mansion, since of course we were always watched. I said one at a time, through one of the back gates, and he’d curled a lip and said, coldly, that he could do “vastly” better than that. So he did.

I had ordered everyone indoors; my Numantians were keeping close watch on the Kaiti soldiers and our household staff. Captain Mellet had been ordered to keep the compound sealed until our return — or until circumstances proved that it was no longer necessary, for good or evil. The pretext was the resident-general’s shock and horror over the events at the palace.

Rain spattered down and it was but three hours before dawn. There was only one person in the street outside, and he was huddled in a doorway a distance down from the gates. He kept himself back in the shadows, as much to keep out of the chill wind as to avoid discovery. The man was blowing in his hands, trying to warm them, when Curti’s arrow took him in the throat. The spy’s corpse sagged, and two soldiers dragged him back into the compound. We’d dispose of the body later.

The more impressive part of the deception I could barely see and hear. In the probable event that Achim Fergana’s or Irshad’s
jasks
were keeping watch by sorcery, Tenedos had arranged a more spectacular display for them. A wizard would have “seen” a dozen men standing around flickering oil-fed fires, Kaiti who so hated the Numantian presence that they watched us day and night. I didn’t see anything, although I thought I caught a dim flicker of flames from the corner of my eye, and heard a ghostly shout of
“M’rt
tê Ph’rëng!”
That sorcerous watcher would have known no one could come out of the compound without attracting attention and known we were all still within.

The spell cast, the twenty-two of us rode for the city gates.

There were still people abroad at this hour, but they were either crazed with rumors, spice weed, drink, or intent on their own goals, and had little interest in us. We held weapons ready under our robes as we rode.

There was no problem leaving Sayana — Achim Fergana’s guards were more afraid of what lay outside trying to enter than the other way around. The officer of the gate didn’t bother coming out of his gatehouse when he saw the party of hard-looking hillmen ride up, but motioned to the two soldiers at the levers to open them.

We rode out, into the night, into the wilds of Kait, at a trot.

• • •

There was just enough light, despite the overcast and occasional rain, to see the rough track we were following. I wasn’t worried about being ambushed; even thieves must sleep sometime, plus very few bandits would risk hitting twenty-two armed opponents. The dirt track was narrow, less a road than a path — at no point could more than three horses have ridden abreast.

Every hour we rested for a few minutes. I checked the horses the infantry and Kaiti were riding carefully, but none of the mounts were mishandled. At sunrise we stopped long enough to brew a pot of the fragrant tea the Kaiti loved, and gnawed dried strips of beef.

Four times that day we rode through tiny villages, each a handful of mud huts around a small square. The Kaiti were ragged, dirty — and their eyes gleamed hatred for us rich men who actually owned horses. But they saw our ready arms and grim faces and behaved as if we did not exist.

Five times we encountered parties on the track. One was a merchant’s whose guards nearly panicked, sure we were about to attack. They dove from their horses, frantically yanking out weapons and buckling up armor. We paid them no mind whatsoever. Three others were hard-faced men intent on their own purpose, spears carried ready for the casting. They glared at us, eyed our weapons calculatingly, and decided the prize was not worth the game.

The last group we came on just before dusk.

We heard them before we came on them — the wail of a baby crying, and the murmur of hopelessness. There were perhaps forty of them, no more than two or three young men, the rest women, children, and four or five ancients. They were raggedly dressed, and carried makeshift packs and bundles.

There was a wail of fear when they saw us, and then babbling pleas for mercy and they scrabbled off the trail out of our way, some prostrating themselves.

This was the other side of the golden banner of war: the poor civilians caught in its midst, easy prey for all. I felt pity, and wished we could help, but knew better.

“We mean no harm,” I shouted, and the babble changed to thanks and promises the gods would reward us. I noted, though, that their faces showed disbelief as we rode slowly past — they were waiting for us to show our true colors and the rapine to begin.

The flock had two shepherds — an old, dignified man, who must have been a village elder, and a young girl, no more than fourteen who, in spite of her dirty garments and face, was astonishingly beautiful.

“We thank you, kind sirs,” he said.

I found a few coins and tossed them to him. He bowed gratitude, and we rode on.

About a mile farther, I found a safe shelter for the night. A tiny village sat abandoned, about a hundred yards from the road, on a small, rocky hill that made a perfect redoubt. The rain was about to turn from showers into a full storm, and the huts, ramshackle though they were, would at least let my men sleep dry. This would be the last rest they would have before we made our raid, and looked ideal.

We stabled our horses in one of the larger huts, and fed them oats in nosebags. I made sure Lucan and Rabbit were taken care of, then broke the party down into four teams, one for each of the remaining huts, and we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. The huts were very big, more byres, actually, and in surprisingly good shape, and each of them had a fire pit dug in the center. The former occupants had used these buildings as barns and living quarters — there were ricks and stalls at the end of each of them. We used our horses’ blankets to cover the windows and doors. I ordered small fires built and, in the gathering darkness, walked around the hilltop to make sure no gleam of light could betray us.