The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (54 page)

“I was hoping for that,” she whispered. “I never understood why he never wanted to just sleep with me. To hold me. I didn’t understand that and … and some other things.” She shuddered and turned the subject slightly. “What of
his
office? What do you wish done about that?”

“I don’t care. Turn it into a nursery.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, then she giggled. “
Là
, sir, you
do
presume.”

“Do I?” I murmured, my cock suddenly rigid. I thrust hard, deep, and she gasped and her hands pulled at my back. I lifted her knees against my chest, and laid hard on her, my hands cupping her buttocks as we crashed together, both of us shouting aloud at the final moment.

• • •

The broadsheets may have been incompetent at reporting the actual events of Numantia unless the Rule of Ten dictated it, but they were most skilled at scandal.

I’d no sooner moved Lucan, Rabbit, and my few possessions into Marán’s house …
our
house, as I kept reminding myself, without effect, being in fact the poorest as well as the youngest of all Numantia’s dominas, yet resident in a great mansion not of my building, when our romance was trumpeted across the city. Now all knew me as Damastes the Fair, Damastes the Seducer, Damastes the Despoiler of Innocent Brides and Cuckolder of the Rich.

I heard snickers in the large tent the Lancers’ officers used for a mess, which of course I could never acknowledge or challenge, even if I wished to. I know not who talked — possibly some sharp-eyed soldiers from the Helms, more likely a servant or two who wished some silver to add to his wages. I didn’t seek the scalawag out; everyone lusts after scandal, and if it hadn’t been leaked by one, it would have been by another.

Tenedos jested with me as well: “Damastes the Fair. Well, Domina, you certainly are amassing a reputation once more. Now the city’s lovelies have testimony that you have
two
long swords at your disposal.”

All of the lonelies and fame-seekers who’d importuned me before redoubled their efforts to woo me or at least have the pleasure of spending an afternoon with me, and now their suggestions and desires were most explicit.

“But don’t they realize I’m happy with the woman I’m with? Otherwise, why the scandal?”

“If
they
don’t mind a bit on the side, as most of them seem to suggest,” Tenedos said, “why should you? You’re just a man, aren’t you? Don’t all of us spend most of our time trying to fornicate with anything that moves?”

“I, sir, am no Nician.”

“It’s not a bad reputation to have,” he said thoughtfully, although I noticed that, as far as I knew, he remained faithful to Rasenna in those days.

But that was not the second event of interest.

• • •

The demon was no larger than my thumb, and looked more like a tiger-fanged seal with four arms than any conventional fiend. It hissed when I came near.

“What is he?” I wondered.

“A useful little fiend,” Tenedos said. “At the moment, he is about to be a miner for gold.”

“It looks like quite a task for him,” I said skeptically.

“He’ll seek but one coin,” Tenedos said. “I’ll use that to obtain others. That is, if there’s anything where I hope it to be.” He bent over the tiny creature and chanted:

“Hararch

Felag

Meelash

M’rur.”

The demon squeaked something in an equally incomprehensible language and dove into the water.

Tenedos had asked if I could take an hour to witness something I might find interesting, and bade me attend him at the dock where the Tovieti hideout had been.

The wooden hatch still yawned wide, exposing a dark, oily expanse of water that had filled the passage when Thak had shaken the earth.

When I arrived, the demon had already been summoned, and allowed outside his small pentagram. Beside that was a greater figure, an eight-pointed star almost the size of a freight wagon, with various-sized circles and symbols carved into the dock’s wooden timbers. An open trunk with Tenedos’s paraphernalia stood beside it, and, not far away, a squad of soldiers waited by a large wagon with eight bullocks hitched to it.

I asked what the hells was going on, and Tenedos said, “I have been considering our mutual embarrassment of wealth, my friend. Even though we keep company with the nobility, and our ladies are quite rich, neither you nor I has a pot to piss in nor a window to pour it out of.”

That was certainly true of myself, but I doubted Tenedos was as poor.

“I propose to rectify this matter … I hope. Examine my logic, if you will. The Tovieti were … are a secret order, are they not?”

“Obvious.”

“Have you ever heard of a secret order who didn’t have vast riches?”

“No … but I never
saw
any order’s wealth, either. Of course, the only such group I was ever around were the stranglers, so I can’t generalize. But isn’t anybody who’s secretive rumored to be rich? I remember an old hermit who lived in the hills behind one of my father’s farms. Everyone knew him to be fabulously wealthy, but when he died all they found was a scrap of silk, two brass coins, and a spoon.”

“Ah, but we know the Tovieti amass wealth,” Tenedos said.

“We have heard how they are encouraged to loot their victims and we saw great mounds of it in the cavern in Kait, did we not? Well, no such trove has been uncovered from the Nician stranglers, and I thought I’d take a few hours to show my greedy, mercenary self.”

I realized we were both babbling a little, neither of our eyes leaving the surface of the murky water where the demon had vanished.

“I propose to share any of my findings with you, Damastes, since you were the first to discover this lair.”

I was utterly astonished, and from the smile on Tenedos’s face I knew I’d had the reaction he’d expected.

“I … I thank you, sir. But you owe me nothing.”

“I owe you what I choose to owe you, sir. And by the way, this is in no way repayment of that debt, but rather my decision to simplify life for the both of us.”

I stammered something, more thanks, then, “Actually, Kutulu found its entrance first,” I managed. “Since you’re being so generous, shouldn’t he be included while we’re gleefully dividing up all this so-far-invisible gold? He’d be welcome to half of my probably nonexistent half.”

“I asked him,” Tenedos said, suddenly turning sober, “and he said he had little use for money. I fear I know what he wants, and it’s something no one, not even myself, will be able to grant. Ah … here’s my sprite now.”

The tiny monster surfaced, holding, clenched in its claw, a single gold coin!

“Come up, come up, my little friend,” Tenedos said, and the spirit sprang from the water onto the wooden decking. Tenedos said something in that tongue, and the demon answered.

“Very good, very good, so there’s much, much more down there, eh?” the wizard said. “Now, I am in your debt, which you may require the repayment of at any time.” He said more in the demon’s language, and it scuttled back into the pentangle, turned, spun, my eyes ached, and the pentangle was empty.

Tenedos was turning the coin in his fingers.

“Interesting. It’s not a Numantian coin, or anyway not one which I’ve ever seen. Suddenly my conscience is lightened, because I’d worried that perhaps we’d have to be honorable, and make repayment to anyone who’s heirs of the stranglers’ victims.

“I could see the circular: ‘Will the owner of a certain gold coin please form a line at the Palace of the Rule of Ten?’ Perhaps this gold isn’t even from Nician victims, but part of a general hoard Thak amassed. I doubt if we’ll ever know, nor shall I make close inquiry.

“Now, we shall see what we shall see.” He put the coin in the center of the star, and paced back and forth, muttering. “Woodruff for luck … pomegranate — prosperity … almond for the gods’ blessing … and the two real herbs, clover and basil.”

He took vials from his chest, and sprinkled herbs into the four braziers set around the star. He lit them, and fragrant fumes filled the air. I noted, not for the first time, that the tiny amount of spices used in a ceremony should not spread so widely, but they always did. It was if I were in a pomegranate grove, with almond trees nearby, and basil growing wild underfoot.

“This will be an interesting spell,” Tenedos said, and began chanting:

“Gather my friends

Join your brother.

You’re of the sun.

Rise now

Linger not.

Your tomb is dark

Your tomb is dank.

Join your brother

As I touched him

Let me touch you.

Rise now

Rise up.

The sun waits to caress you.”

Nothing happened for some moments. “If I believed in the possibility of resurrecting the dead,” Tenedos commented, “I’d worry about this spell working on the wrong matter. We did leave some corpses down there when we departed so hastily, and I imagine they would have fondled any riches. I’d hate to have
them
shamble out of the slime down there. But it looks as my spirit was either mistaken or mischievous, since nothing — ”

Tenedos had spoken too soon, as the area above the star shimmered, and then gold cascaded out of nowhere. There were gems, gold bars, coins, statuettes. The pile grew and grew until it was nearly the height of a man. I heard shouts of amazement from the soldiers.

Tenedos stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“It would appear, my good Damastes,” he said, “while we are tied to one Wheel for the nature and length of our lives, we have just freed ourselves from another, the Wheel of worry for our daily bread.” He grinned, and I saw a flash of what the boy named Laish might have looked like before he chose to don the solemn robes of a sorcerer. “We’re rich!”

And so we were.

Tenedos betrayed me later in many ways, but I still must remember this day. He could have called up the gold and kept it and I would never have thought anything else should have been done.

But he willingly chose to share it, and again I’m reminded the seer was perhaps the most complex man ever to be given life by Irisu.

• • •

Nothing to match the tribunal had occurred in Nicias, at least not within memory. For the first time the commoners were given a glimpse of how their rulers thought and talked, and of the decisions they made.

Tenedos ran the proceedings as if he were the judge, not Barthou and the Rule of Ten. Aided by Kutulu’s wardens, he produced witness after witness, who described how the Tovieti had slowly entered Nicias, slipping into each layer of society as subtly as their stranglers slid the yellow silk cord around their victims’ necks, precisely laying their plans for the uprising.

I saw with disgust that most of the prisoners were in sad shape. It was more than evident that Kutulu’s interrogators had used more than words in their interrogations. I liked it little, but force is the custom with our wardens, which is foolish since a man under torture will confess to anything to make the pain stop.

What was not the custom was that
all
of them had been tortured, rich or poor. When the Marchioness Fenelon was put on the stand, she began what was obviously a rote confession, memorized at the coaching of her tormentors. She became more and more emotional, and suddenly broke.

“Counselor Barthou! You cannot believe what they did to me,” she shrieked. “I was treated as dirt by these pigs, these wardens! Look what they did to me! Just look!” She held up clawed hands, and I saw where her fingernails had been torn out. “How could they do this? How
could
they?”

Barthou made no answer, but turned his head away, and two wardens dragged her from the stand. She never reappeared, and I am ignorant of her final fate. I made no inquiries, either, and it was as if the woman had never existed. A traitoress she was, but did she deserve this end? I do not know, and am grateful I’ve never sat the bench or had to apply anything other than the crudest, most immediate justice, following the clean, sharp laws of the military.

The tormented ones were not the most telling. That testimony came from the bearded, fat man I’d seen in the smuggler’s den, who looked like a district grocer but was head of the entire Tovieti organization in Nicias. His name turned out to be Cui Garneau, as plain as his appearance. He told the inquirers absolutely everything, freely volunteering the most damaging information. He confessed to murder after murder, not only by others, but by his own hand, and spoke of his pleasure in serving Thak as he pulled taut the yellow silk cord. His tales went on and on, and even the bloodthirsty writers for the broadsheets sickened. It hadn’t mattered to him; he told with equal relish of strangling a newborn infant and a doddering, senile beldam.

It appeared he’d undergone no torture, and I inquired of Tenedos why he was so cooperative. Wasn’t he aware he was surely dooming himself, or didn’t he care?

“No one has laid a finger on him,” Tenedos verified. “In fact, he’s living in a cell more luxurious than these apartments, although it matters not at all to him.

“You’ll see this again, Damastes. He served one master passionately, so that nothing else existed. When I destroyed that master, Thak, his world was shattered. He turned for something to cling to, and found me. Since I had power enough to annihilate Thak, he now wishes to serve me. The best way he can do that is to tell everything.

“The odd thing is that he may well live to a ripe old age. I myself will vote to keep him alive, so future historians or even the curious can visit him and find that this great conspiracy wasn’t a mad illusion, but something very real, very deadly.

“My only problem is turning his words away from an enemy who no longer exists, Thak, to one that must be confronted. Chardin Sher. I also wish he knew details of other Tovieti branches in Numantia, but he claims ignorance, saying that no one but Thak knew that.”

As a matter of fact, Tenedos was partially correct, but only partially. When the trial was finished, Cui Garneau was sentenced to death, but the sentence immediately commuted, one of only four. But Garneau didn’t live out the year. Walking outside the cell he’d been assigned to, his guards’ attention diverted for a moment, three convicted murderers beat him to death with iron clubs they’d concealed under their rags. There are some crimes, and criminals, that even the most evil of men cannot tolerate, I suppose.