The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (56 page)

It took me a long while to come back, and I found myself lying beside her. We were both drenched in sweat and I felt as helpless as a newborn kitten.

“You can borrow that book again if you want. That was kind of … interesting,” I managed.

“Mmm,” she mmmed, and we lay quietly, she pulling gently at the still-sparse hairs on my chest.

“Will there be war?” she said suddenly.

“That’s a hell of a question at a time like this.”

“Will there?”

I sighed.

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

“Afraid? Don’t lie to me, Damastes. I know you’re a soldier, and I know you’ll go off to fight. That’s what your life is, what it always will be, I guess.”

“Yes.”

“When you do,” she said, “I hope I am carrying your baby.”

I felt very proud, but very unsure as well. Before Marán I’d never considered children, feeling that I’d most likely marry when I retired from the service, if I lived that long, and would father the appropriate number of descendants as my father and grandfather had.

“I would love to have your son,” she said.

“What’s the matter with daughters?”

“Nothing. Later. First a boy.”

“And you said
I
was forward,” I complained. An idea came. I started to discard it as if not foolish, certainly sudden and premature. But my mouth was obeying its own laws, and I said, “But I can’t see any of my children being bastards.”

“Don’t worry about
that
,” Marán said. “No acknowledged child of an Agramónte is a bastard.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“You mean …”

“I mean. Countess Marán Agramónte, would you consent to wed a poor domina of cavalry who would do nothing more than adore you for as long as Irisu allows him foot on this earth? I love you, you know.”

There was a long silence, and I realized Marán was crying. I felt monstrous, not knowing what I’d done wrong.

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t, oh, Damastes, you didn’t. You never can. But … did you know no one ever proposed to me? It just sort of became a given sort of thing I’d marry.

“Isn’t it funny? I can’t remember anybody, except my mother and maybe a nurse or two, saying they loved me, not ever. Hernad never did. Then you say it to me, and then my father says it.…” She began crying again.

I held her until the storm passed.

“You know,” I said, “if it bothers you, I can withdraw the question. I mean, it’s probably mad to even think about something like that. You’ve got all of the stuff to go through getting your marriage annulled, and I’ve heard that nobody is supposed to marry on the rebound, not for a while, at least, and — ”

“Shut up, Damastes. The answer is yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

As she spoke, I was one with the gods, almost crying, myself, in joy. She went on:

“You know it can’t happen at once. No matter how skilled my father’s factors are, it’ll take time for the annulment,” she said. “Since I’m an Agramónte, the matter will have to go before the Rule of Ten. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” I said. “It’ll give me a reason to fight hard, so I can come back to you.”

“Not too hard,” she said. “Because you
must
come back.”

“Oh, I shall, I shall.” I may have been young and full of foolish bravado, but I
knew
I’d come through the war unscathed, and I don’t know how I knew it.

“So we are engaged,” she said. “We should do something to celebrate.”

“I know just the thing,” I said.

“I know you do,” she said throatily, lifting her legs around my waist as I grew within her. “I know you do.”

If I could have reached out and stopped time just then, I would have, lying as we were, me still inside her, feeling the moisture of love on our thighs. I wish now it had been possible; pain, sorrow and betrayal would never have happened.

But I couldn’t, and they did.

• • •

Three days later, the response came from Chardin Sher. The special envoy returned, on a stretcher. His tongue had been torn out.

Now it was civil war, and the declaration came within hours.

• • •

General Rechin Turbery, having experience fighting the Kallians, chose to lead the campaign personally. The elite units brought to Nicias would be sent against the Kallians, as well as all other regiments who were able to be moved from their area of responsibility.

This war would not be fought by bits and pieces, but as a mighty sledgehammer. It wasn’t quite civil war, but close enough so it had to be settled quickly and harshly.

Everyone knew that our supposedly friendly neighbor, King Bairan of Maisir, would be very concerned with the course of events, and any weakness on the part of the Rule of Ten might well spark interest about our vulnerability.

But the best came last. Seer Laish Tenedos was named to a new post: sorcerer of the army. He would have as many staffers as he wished, and was responsible only to General Turbery.

Now, finally, he would have the chance to develop his strategies and tactics.

Now we might see a new kind of war.

• • •

It was a gray morning, not yet dawn, with cold mist blowing off the river. Horseman Karjan had both Lucan and Rabbit packed and ready. He politely sat his horse, looking away from the house as Marán and I came out.

I kissed her, and never wanted the kiss to end.

I wondered if this was all history, a man kissing a woman good-bye and going away to fight, and wondered why we so loved to kill each other.

I put the thought aside and kissed her once again.

Again, I saw that look of a hurt animal, and turned away.

I walked to Lucan and stepped up into the saddle.

Marán watched me, her face utter misery, her hands clasped in front of her.

I clucked to Lucan, and he moved off, Karjan behind us. I turned as we went out the gate, onto the street, and watched her never-moving form until it disappeared in the river mists.

And the war reached out and took me.

D
ISASTER AT THE
I
MRU
R
IVER

General Turbery had requisitioned every available craft to carry us upriver to Cicognara, at the head of the Latane River’s delta. There, the army would assemble and march east toward the Kallian border.

I didn’t see Tenedos — he was on the flagship with the general, but he told me later of his fumings at how terribly slow we moved.

I had little time to notice, because it took eight huge cattle lighters to transport the Lancers, and I was constantly shuttling back and forth between the ships with my new adjutant, Legate Bikaner, in a small sailing boat helmed by a villain whose politest speech reduced the most profane lance-major to respectful silence.

But once we disembarked at Cicognara, even I saw how glacial was our progress. For three weeks there was nothing but interminable staff meetings as to how we should move, in what order, which regiment belonged to which division, and so forth, further confused as more and more units trickled into the city.

Some of the snarl was understandable, since the Numantian Army hadn’t moved in such a mass for generations.

Eventually there were over 100,000 soldiers camped in and around the city, everyone in awe at the size of the host. This sounds laughable, since a few years later I’d be comfortable personally commanding many times that number, just one part of Emperor Tenedos’s forces, but it’s necessary to remember that the army had fought in no wars, only border skirmishes and internal disputes, for years.

The eventual order of battle was as follows: Each regiment, now augmented to about 1,000 men, was grouped with four others to form a division. Five divisions then formed a corps. These 25,000 men formed a wing, of which there were three: Left, Center, and Right.

The thirteen elite regiments that’d been called to Nicias to suppress the riots were built back up to strength, given additional support elements, and used as either forward or screening elements of these three wings.

On a blistering day, the second of the Time of Heat, we set off for Kallio, a long, multicolored snake curling along the road that leads to the border. I’d been angered before by how slowly the Khurram Light Infantry moved, but that pace was that of the cheetah compared to this cumbersome monster. I had learned that a good soldier could carry all his possessions on his back or on a packhorse. If that was true, I marched east with over 100,000 idiots. I include myself, because Marán had had new uniforms designed and made, and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her no, nor to leave them in Nicias. In fact, to be truthful, I rather admired them, with their silk facings, their exact fit, their gold and silver embroidery.

I tried to rationalize this by thinking I’d provide better leadership since I was so easy to mark, and that soldiers always wished their leaders to stand out. But in fact, a previously unknown streak of vanity showed itself. I’m not that ashamed — has there ever been a cavalryman without more than a trace of vainglory?

I couldn’t maintain the silly rationale for long, not after Karjan looked at my wardrobe, and asked, expressionlessly, where we’d cage the peacocks we’d need for replacement feathers.

So my personal gear filled two handsome leather wardrobes, and I was by far the most conservative of the higher-ranking officers.

Soldiers had cases, warrants had trunks, legates had cabinets, dominas had private wagons, and generals had trains.

On the march I had something to keep me occupied other than duty, since the Lancers ran of their own accord, like a perfect clockwork mechanism, needing little attention. Marán had written at least once, sometimes twice, a day, and I savored each letter as it arrived, reading and rereading the small delights of peace. There were pleasant surprises: Her husband would not contest the annulment; she’d encountered surprisingly little rejection for being a scarlet woman; and, best of all, her monthly time had not occurred yet.

She was also surprisingly explicit about what she wished me to do to her, when and where, in bed, standing, or in the bath, when I came home. I rode around with a seemingly perpetual bulge in my breeches, and wondered if I’d have to find a convenient bush to shame myself behind before the campaign ended.

Two days into the march, when we could still see the not-terribly-tall buildings of Cicognara in the distance, I saw a young, and obviously rich, legate shaving. He had his own tent, a clever folding table, desk, chairs, a personal cook with his own stove making breakfast to one side, two servants attending him, and a canvas bathtub beside. As he finished, a rather attractive young woman came out of the tent, pulling on a silk robe.

He was not the only one to bring a mistress or wife — one general brought
three.
Since he was slightly older than Irisu, no one knew what he did with one, let alone all of them.

Camp followers, ration wagons, sutlers’ carts, bullocks for the slaughter — we looked like a migrating nation, not a fighting force.

I found a new pastime as our horses plodded onward across the countryside. Captain Petre and I returned to one of our old amusements — designing the army we’d rather lead, rather fight with. I even took to keeping a notebook with schemes we thought particularly valuable. This is an odd thing for a domina and a captain to waste their time doing, and is rather the pastime of freshly commissioned legates. But it must be remembered I was only twenty-three and Petre a year older, so our foolishness can be understood. But considering what happened a few weeks later, it turned out not to be foolish at all.

I encountered Tenedos when we’d made camp, a week after we’d marched out of Cicognara and inquired as to how it was going. He looked around to make sure we couldn’t be overheard.

“It is not going at all, as you should know,” he said. “No one, not even General Turbery, seems to be aware that the Time of Heat will not last forever, and we must be across the border into Kallio and dealing with Chardin Sher before the monsoons begin. Instead, we stroll along at our leisurely pace, stopping to pick a flower here, investigate a byway there — ” he broke off. “Damastes, is there anyone in your army who knows how to fight?”

“
My
army, sir?”

“My apologies. I mean no slur. I’m fresh from a conference with the general, and I seem to be speaking a different language than he does.” He sighed heavily. “I just hope things will come right when they must.

“Oh. By the way, you may congratulate me. Turbery’s given me general’s rank.”

I blinked. “Well, my heartiest, sir. But … you turned that down once before.”

“That was before,” Tenedos said. “And that was when I wished to keep some remove between me and the army. Now I must not. There is a time to watch, and then a time to swim with the current.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but congratulated him, saluted, and went back to the Lancers.

I told Mercia, Captain Petre, of my conversation. He made sounds I knew I was supposed to take for laughter.

“The seer general is quite right, I think. But he’s hardly blameless.”

“Why so?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? He’s brought his lady along.”

And so it was; not a day later I saw him riding with Rasenna. I waved, and they waved back. If it wouldn’t have been a scandal, I almost wished I’d brought Marán. But an army on the campaign isn’t the best place for gentlefolk unused to harshness, although the manner in which we traveled was, indeed, more like rich, happy wanderers on a vacation than hard soldiering.

Then the word came: Chardin Sher had crossed the border into Dara! Now it was open war.

Scouts and magic discovered that his army was waiting for us, in prepared positions along the Irmu River, not far from the small Daran city of Entoto.

Four days later, we came on them.

We were near the headwaters of the Imru Rivar, so it wasn’t particularly wide, no more than thirty yards. It runs south-southeast to eventually join the Latane. We were moving across rolling, fairly open countryside, scattered with groves of trees — open country ideal for warfare.