The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (6 page)

“Maybe I should have,” I said, taking a canteen from Lucan’s saddle and sluicing the spittle off my face. I saw from the expression on Lance Karjan’s face that he agreed completely with
that.
“But I’ll chance the boy remembers what I did, and maybe, when he grows up,
if
he grows up, which seems unlikely in these lands, will return my boon to someone.” I glanced at Karjan. “Don’t bother showing me what you think of
that
idea, soldier. And thank you for being so quick. Next time, I must be a little swifter.”

I got a smile from the bearded cavalryman, and we rode on. Indeed, the People of the Hills were all the same. No doubt the women and the old ones were uniformly wishing they could have a dagger and one minute’s chance at one of us with our back turned, and then two minutes to rifle the corpse.

Sulem Pass opened out, until it was almost a mile wide, the hills around it low and rolling; so as long as we carefully approached the roadside gullies that cut the land like knife scars, we would have adequate warning of an attack.

Laish Tenedos rode in silence for a while, then said, “Now that boy poses a good riddle for a judge who has yet to take his appointed bench. Should I be merciful, and pray this changes the endless back-and-forth of murder begetting more murder causing still more bloodshed? Or should I choose the other way of ending these problems? Dead men carry no feuds.”

I did not wish to comment, but that did give me an opening. “Yesterday, sir,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “you said you hold radical ideas. There are many people who believe many things in Nicias, some far beyond radical, but the Rule of Ten does not generally silence them, or … send them out to be slain, until they have a following, or at any rate a chamber where audiences may gather.”

“A good point, Damastes.” This was the second use of my first name, and from then on it was continual, except in formal circumstances, most unusual for the vast difference in rank between us. But for some reason it seemed proper. “I’ll tell you a bit of myself.

“I am from Palmeras, as I said. Of my family, I’ll say nothing now, save that they gave me enough money so I could devote myself to the study of magic, since I’d shown evidence of the Great Talent as a child and, not understanding me well, left me alone. I returned the favor, although, if circumstances come to pass, I may find use for two of my brothers in the fullness of time.

“When I was sixteen I was fortunate enough to win a competition that enabled me to leave Palmeras for Nicias, and complete my studies.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I dream of my island, and the sharp, dry smell of the rosemary under a summer sun, or the tang of our resiny wine, and wish I’d never left. But even then, I sensed my destiny.”

I’d begun to let go of the idea that Tenedos was a madman, but this word,
destiny
, made me wonder once more.

“I apprenticed myself to a master wizard,” Tenedos went on, “and studied under him for five years. When I was twenty-two, I knew I must set my own curriculum, be my own master.

“I traveled for four more years, visiting every state in Numantia, studying the Art under any savant who would have me. But I knew what I sought would lie beyond sorcery, and so I read greatly about our history and especially about our wars.

“Do not sneer, but I sometimes wish my life had taken a slightly different turn, and I came from a military family, because I feel an affinity for the battlefield, for the army. I wondered then, and wonder now, why magic has played so little a part in the great battles, and know, deep in my guts, this shall not always be the case.

“But that is for the future, and I was talking about my past. One day, sitting at the feet of a hermit in faraway Jafarite, I knew suddenly and completely what actions must be taken, and taken quickly, to save my beloved Numantia. I returned to Nicias last year, and that was when my troubles began.

“I set up practice as a seer, but discouraged the common visitor who wanted no more than a love potion or his future cast, and slowly, slowly, began to amass the clients I needed. At first it was a rich man wanting to know if the gods favored a course of action, or a merchant who wanted spells to keep his caravan safe when it went out. I helped, sometimes with sorcery, more frequently with common sense. Then came others, still more highly placed, men in the government. First they wanted potions or spells, then they stayed for my advice on other matters.

“Two of the Rule of Ten I now count as buyers of my wares who also, and more importantly, seem to be listening to my ideas.

“That was why I was sent out from Nicias, Damastes. The others in the Rule of Ten, and those in their hierarchy, are afraid of my words, afraid that the truth they hold will ring true for all of Numantia.”

I looked about nervously, making sure no one else was within hearing. Tenedos saw my concern.

“Don’t worry, Damastes. I’m no streetside crazy, collaring anyone who comes close and spouting his babble. What I am saying is for your ears only.

“In its proper time, though, it shall be heard throughout our entire kingdom!” His eyes flamed as they had when first we met.

“My beliefs are simple,” he said. “Our country has held too long in the comfortable furrows of the past, like a farmer’s ox pulling the plow every season through the same field. Umar the Creator is not paying attention to this world now. We must turn away from Irisu the Preserver, who we’ve followed too long, and instead follow the Supreme Spirit’s third manifestation, Saionji. It is time to destroy, and
then
we shall be able to see clearly how to rebuild!

“Numantia has been too long without a king!”

This was more than just radicalism, but very close to high treason. I should have told him, as an officer of the army, granted my sash by the Rule of Ten, that he must say no more, or I would be forced to take appropriate action, and then spurred my horse away.

Instead, I listened on because, in truth, his words were no stronger than I’d heard my father and others say.

Numantia had been built by royalty, and ruled by several dynasties over the centuries, sometimes changing rulers by violence, sometimes by intermarriage, occasionally when a line died out. Although this is not how history was taught, about 200 years before I was born the king had died in battle, his only son far too young to take the throne. As is common, a regency was appointed. But uncommonly, it was not one man, but a group of ten of the king’s most trusted counselors.

Three years later, the heir also died, and the kingdom faced disaster, since there was no one left in direct descent. Whether there were other septs of the family, and whether they had acceptable candidates for the throne, our writings are silent, although years later I had scholars search the archives to satisfy my curiosity, and they said the records had been thoroughly cleansed of any reference to other kinfolk.

In any event, these counselors, who called themselves the Rule of Ten, took charge, and ruled in the beginning with at least as much wisdom and consideration as many kings. The problem arose — and you must remember I knew none of this at the time — when they did not formalize their position, but insisted on the fiction that they were merely caretakers for Numantia until a proper ruler was found. As time passed the counselors grew old, and appointed successors, and so it had gone until the present, never legitimized by law, but limping onward, improvising, through the years. Since the Rule of Ten were always going on about the need for a king, custom did not make their rule familiar, and Numantians were always reminded of their supposedly temporary authority.

Numantia still existed as a country, but barely. Dara, the biggest state, and also the seat of the Rule of Ten in Nicias, was the flagship, although of late our neighboring state of Kallio had stirred awake, led by a firebrand of a prime minister named Chardin Sher.

“Numantia cannot continue as it has,” Tenedos said. “Without a firm hand controlling the kingdom, it is inevitable that states will fall away, and eventually come to regard themselves as independent kingdoms. Then we’ll see what properly would be called civil war, but that term will be false, since Numantia will be no more than a legal fiction by then.

“Some say,” he added grimly, “it’s not much more than that now. If the situation is not turned around soon, it shall decline into war, and then anarchy. All Nature agrees: There is either order, or the chaos of the maelstrom!”

I was a bit skeptical. “You paint a dark picture, Seer. But I’ve heard doom-criers before, and Numantia has managed to stumble on for quite a few years without catastrophe.”

“The past, my good fellow, has almost nothing to do with the present or future,” Tenedos said. “I can
feel
the unrest of Nicias, in Dara, in all my travels throughout Numantia. The people are without leaders, without direction,
and they know it!

“It takes no use whatever of my powers to see a small incident in the city suddenly striking sparks, and the mob ravening through the streets. Would the Rule of Ten be able to handle a catastrophe such as that? Would Nicias’s own council? I have grave doubts. Even if they called for order, what of the troops I saw stationed around the city? I mean no offense to the army you serve in, the
real
army, but I thought most of the soldiers I saw in Nicias tittle but perfumed puppets who think their armor serves to hang decorations on.”

That had been pretty much my opinion as well, but I said nothing. Families do not take their quarrels or opinions out of the home.

“Poor Numantia,” Tenedos went on. “Enemies within, enemies without, and yet we do nothing.

“Consider Kallio. Chardin Sher may be only prime minister, but he rules the country like it was his own. What would happen if he decided to overthrow the weaklings of the Rule of Ten? Would Dara rise in their support? Would the other states? And then would Numantia be swallowed up in civil war?

“What of Maisir? What moots it if we’ve been at peace for centuries? King Bairan is young, having no more than three or four years on either of us. Youth is the time of hunger, of looking for more. What would happen if he decided to annex the Border States tomorrow?

“That is why I hope my theory that the Rule of Ten plans to exercise more control in Kait is correct, although my neck litile loves the manner they possibly planned to institute it.

“But suppose I’m wrong. Suppose the situation continues with nothing being done to settle the Border States? Suppose Maisir does move into Kait? The Border States have always been a buffer between our kingdoms. But what if this ends? Maisir also lays claim to Urey.

“If they sent armies through Sulem Pass, with the intent of occupying Urey, would we be able to stop them? More importantly, since none of us seem to think of ourselves as Numantians these days, but as Kallians, Darans, Palmarans, Cimabuans, would we have the
will
to stand against ?airan?

“What do you think, Damastes á Cimabue?”

I considered what I would say carefully. Tenedos had said much, but one thing he had not told me is who he thought might reign in Numantia. But then, as I thought on, he did not need to.

I finally thought I had the right words.

“I think I’ve heard too many ‘if’s,’ ” I said nervously. “And I’m afraid of running into trouble
if
I start thinking that far ahead, and will be like a man who lets his midday meal be poached by his cat while he’s worried about whether his dog might steal the steak he has planned for dinner.”

Tenedos looked at me silently for a very long time, then suddenly and unexpectedly burst into laughter.

“Legate,” he said, “if anyone ever says to me that Cimabuans are not subtle, but blockheads who can speak only the truth, I shall laugh them out of my presence.

“That was the best nonanswer to a question I have ever heard outside the court of the Rule of Ten.

“You will do very well, Damastes. Very well indeed. So let’s start thinking about our midday meal, which is a violent little province called Kait, and how we can keep most of its inhabitants from killing each other and also Numantians, as well as keeping our own heads fairly well connected to our shoulders.”

The next day, we rode into Sayana, capital of the Border States.

T
HE
T
IGER AT
N
IGHT

It hardly seems fifteen years ago, as I look back on that young legate, riding beside a master magician whose life I’d saved, my still-bloodied saber in its sheath, looking down from the roadway at those ominous spires of Sayana in the distance, and tasting adventure in the soft breeze.

Who was I? From where had I come?

In spite of the turns of fortune, I consider myself the least remarkable of men. I never thought of myself as having been gifted by the gods, as some others have claimed about themselves.

I am taller than most, it is true, nearly a head taller than six feet. Some have said my features are well made, but I have never been able to prate about how handsome I am. In truth, in the pier glass I think myself rather plain.

My hair is blond, and I wear it long, even now when it is sadly thinning on top. I have always preferred to be clean-shaven, finding a beard not only a collector of strange debris, but also something an enemy can use as a deadly handhold in battle. I shall add, since I intend to be as honest as I know in this memoir, that there’s a bit of vanity in this, since my face hair grows like a bramblebush, in knots and tangles. When bearded, I look less an imposing leader than a wandering mendicant, a roadside holy man who’s chosen the wrong byways to carry his begging bowl down.

I am, as is obvious from my name, from the jungled province of Cimabue. There may be those who do not know the reputation my people have, or the many jokes that are told about our laziness, our unreliability, our dullness and general shiftlessness. Let but one jape suffice: The Cimabuan who sat up until dawn on his wedding night, because the seer who performed the marriage ceremony told him this would be the most wonderful night of his life.