The web of wizardry (11 page)

even wear a faith-ring. His boots were those of a plowboy, not a warrior.

The battle was dying away in a few last, flurrying encounters. Groans faded and citizens were creeping back into the square to reclaim their stalls and wares. Danaer swung up on his roan and loped to where Yistar and Branra were dispatching the last of their opponents. Yistar, as Danaer had seen many a time before, laid about him with officer's sword in workmanlike fashion, caring only that his target went down. Branra's enthusiasm shone in his face, and his combat was a joyous art. He seemed disappointed when his antagonist died.

The Captain ordered Danaer, "Get Shaartre and take tally. Let us see what we have from this."

The Troop Leaders shepherded and bulUed and helped the wounded, gradually reassembling the column. Danaer was angered to see much needless slaughter, for the ranks were broken. Many of their dead had fallen during the first moments of that blind, senseless rush in Prince Diilbok's wake. Once the shock was over, veterans had used old training, and the newer men had sometimes discovered their ability to kill, often to their dismay. One of Danaer's youngest troop-men, a youth named Rorluk, had saved the Ufe of his comrade Xashe, then had been sickened when he saw what his lance had done. With some effort, Danaer and Xashe got the young man back on his feet and led him, still retching and sick, to his horse and back to the units.

Shaartre was leading several horses laden with bodies as Danaer rejoined him. They made an assessment and turned to Yistar. "Six dead, fourteen wounded— three of the wounded unable to ride; we are rigging litters, Captain."

Branra whistled and shook his head, commiserating with Yistar. The Lieutenant was splattered with much blood, but there was no wound on him. "That is a very heavy toll for such a brief encounter."

"Lucky it was not more." Yistar directed a glare at Prince Diilbok. That worthy slouched in the saddle and cleaned his sword. Danaer wondered why that

was necessary; certainly Diilbok had never struck any man who could defend hunself! Danaer remembered the strange way nothing could touch the Prince, even in the midst of lances and knives. He put the thought aside as Yistar added, "At least we took down a-many of those cursed Destre-Y . . ."

Danaer nudged his roan forward and interrupted with, "Your favor, Captain."

"Yes?" Yistar eyed him with interest, knowing his scout's tone from long association in their campaigns.

"These rioters were not Destre-Y."

"What?" The Captain arched his shaggy eyebrows. "How can you say this?"

Danaer was feehng curious stares from his comrades and the citizens on every side. What demon had made him open his mouth at such a time? The Azsed tongue of faith was not a thing to reveal in the presence of an lit. Yistar might have guessed such a secret language existed, but Danaer was bound by oath to keep silence on the matter. "Of how I know. Captain, I may not say. But I swear on my honor that it is so."

"Ridiculous!" Prince Diilbok, red-faced and puffing, exclaimed. "I told you that this man was a traitor, but you would not heed me. No doubt the murderous scoundrel had a part in planning this riot. Now he tries to mislead us with these insane stories."

"Captain, on my oath—" Danaer began.

"Silence! You devil worshipper!" Diilbok came close, his wine-strong breath making the scout recoil. "Give me your sword at once, you cur! You are my prisoner. I will have you executed on the spot, here at the site of your treachery!"

For a heartbeat, Danaer gathered himself to fight clear and flee to the Zsed, seeking sanctuary among the plains people, his own. But who were his own? And how many comrades would he have to kill? Shaartre? The men of his unit? Yistar, who had given Danaer his Hfe ten times over in the Kakyein Wars and the southern campaigns?

Danaer let his hand rest on his sword hilt, studying Yistar, prudence ruling him. But Yistar was transfixed,

staring dumbly at Prince Diilbok, disbelieving what he heard and saw.

"Remove those badges and that helmet!" Diilbok demanded. "You befoul them!"

Branra said, "And have you already conducted the Troop Leader's trial, cousin?" His voice was deceptively soft, though there was steel under the words. "You would be judge and executioner in one, I see. But consider: we have no evidence against the man. You had best save your accusations for a surer target."

Prince Diilbok sputtered, incoherent with rage. Branra went on amiably, "I submit that we may hold Troop Leader Danaer for questioning, if you insist. We will brmg this situation before his garrison's commandant. General Nurdanth. The King's articles are clear in such matters. Surely you remember that small detail, cousin. Search your mind. I feel it will return to you, in time."

For a while, Diilbok continued to rant and wave his arms. But under Branra's serenity, the prince subsided finally into furious glowering at Danaer and his fellow ofl&cer. Branra was unbothered by that, nodding to Danaer. "I owe you my life. Troop Leader. If I may repay you with a bit of justice amid insanity, well enough."

Then he turned to Yistar and said most pleasantly, "Have we else to do here, Captain, or do we go back to the fort?"

Yistar stayed clear of any conflict between the high-bom officers. Though he outranked Branra in badges, Yistar was ever conscious of his humble origins. Now he seized on Branra's suggestion. "Ai, and at once. Since you have taken my Troop Leader's case into your hands, will you also take him into your custody?"

"WilUngly," Branra said. "But I do not think he will need restraint. The man is a Destre, and has sworn to serve you. Fortunate we are that he keeps his honor, for he has been left his weapons." Again Branra grinned at Diilbok.

The fop puffed out his chest and cried, "I demand that... rights ... the articles ..."

"Of course." Branra wedged his black in between

Diilbok's and Danaer's horses, nose to tail with Danaer's roan. "Ai, we will play this wager fairly, will we not, warrior? I require your sword, and that sling you wielded to save me. Ah! And your boot knife and belt blade."

Branra was no stranger to Destre arms. He had forgotten nothing. It seemed less shame to surrender them all to Branra. The ofiScer ran a thumb along the well-worn boot knife, saying with admiration, "I learned some time ago that a Destre is ever dangerous, particularly so long as he has this, ready to strike."

Yistar ordered that the bodies of the rioters and their horses be brought along as spoils. There was new confusion, and then the column untangled itself. It moved very slowly now, burdened with Utters for the wounded and bodies tied on horses. No longer scouting, Danaer was forced to ride beside Lieutenant Branra, directly behind Diilbok and Yistar. Shaartre led the troops, and Danaer could feel his old friend's sympathetic and puzzled stare burning into his back.

How had he come to this? Bogotana's deviltry—or some evil wizard? Had it been a magical trap, well laid to thrust him into this cage and make him bind himself with his own honest and ill-advised words?

Argan, do not let me die with dishonor!

How was he to convince General Nurdanth that he spoke the truth? It were less abomination to spit on the altar than to reveal the goddess's rituals. Yet he could not expect the General to believe him unless he spoke reasons.

The dilemma tormented him as they left Siank and wound up the foothills toward the fort.

Far better to have fallen in battle. Stripped of weapons, forced to ride bareheaded, he was Branra's prisoner. It needed only chains to complete his black shame.

A sudden horror came upon him. Would they hang him, like a common cutpurse or thiever of woolbacks? Would no one call to Argan for his soul? He would wander the earth below forever, never reaching the goddess or new life. Would Lira Nalu speak in his favor to the General? The pretty httle Sarh wizard had

acted kindly toward him. It might be she would not scorn him...

Yet she was a sorkra, and had not some wizardry had a part in all the things that had befallen him since he had come to Siank?

As they entered the fort, he lifted his head, hiding his heart behind a warrior's unrevealing expression. He had taken oath, and a Destre who broke oath was less than dust. K he must die, it was Argan's will. All was in the hands of the goddess now—and in the judgment of General Nurdanth.

VI

Treachery among the Iit

The stone cell was stifling and humid and proof against tool or weapon. Little matter, for Branra had pulled Danaer's fangs. Danaer smiled ruefully. To think that such a courtier would be so familiar with Destre-Y. Bloody Branra had confiscated all those weapons with an easy air, as he had disarmed many another Destre warrior.

Danaer's momentary amusement was buried in hurt. It was not merely the waste of soldiery in the riot or DiUbok's accusations. There was Shaartre's shaken attitude when Danaer had been taken away to this prison. And worse—^Lira Nalu had witnessed this thing, for the sorkra had passed him and Branra in the hall of headquarters as the officer was conveying him to the cell. She had known what his empty scabbard and missing helmet signified, and her distress was obvious. Once she had helped him with her wizardry. But then she had known that he rode into peril and had prepared for it. If sorcery lay behind this shame of Danaer's, she had not been forewarned, and now it was too late for her countering white magic.

Branra had bolted the door and left him alone what seemed a very long time. It had given him space to think, not always a good thing. There was no pallet or cushion or bucket. The only air came through a tiny barred slit in the rocky ceiling. Rats had scurried in the straw, but kept hidden, wary of Danaer's boots. He knew that by now he presented a woeful appearance —shorn of weapons and insignia, sweaty, his beard stubble uncut, his uniform stained from the battle.

Then there was a muffled thump of footsteps, a bolt was pulled, and the door creaked open. Branra stood before him, gesturing. "Come with me. Troop Leader."

The cooler air of the corridor refreshed Danaer a bit. He came to full wakefulness as he followed the shorter man through the wandering passageways of the fortress. The officer had come alone, without soldiers, a concession Danaer appreciated. The fewer men who saw his condition, the less shame. As they came abreast a junction in the halls, they met Prince Diilbok's mistress.

The woman was angered, her color very high. Her costly gown was emerald-green, and like all her garments, cut low as a common hussy's. As always, she dripped gems and gold. Branra and Danaer stepped aside to let Chorii pass, and she paused, eyeing them intently. She began to flutter her lashes and flirt her head, a seductive smile aimed at Branra. It was a palace game Branra would not play. He treated her as he treated her man, summing his derision with a bow that was too deep to be convincing. Chorii was not fooled, and she flounced her skirts, rushing past him, deliberately bumping the nobleman's arm.

Branra looked at Danaer and said, loud enough for the departing woman to hear him clearly, "We should be grateful Diilbok did not bring his lap dogs as well, I suppose."

Chorii looked back at them, fury in her dark eyes, her Hps drawn back m a snarl. She slammed through a door and made the thmg shake on its hinges.

Branra chuckled softly, then sighed. "Well, to what must be done. Troop Leader." He moved toward a set of double doors guarded by sentries. They opened the

portal for him and Danaer, then shut them carefully at their backs. Danaer had gone by this room several times while on business for Yistar. Never had he expected to find himself within, for this was the officers' conference chamber.

He braced to see General Nurdanth, Yistar, the Prince, and the Royal Commander himself awaiting him. Ulodovol and Lira Nalu were standing before Malol te Eldri; apparently they had just dealt with him on some sorkra affairs, for now they turned to leave as Branra and Danaer arrived. It seemed that for a moment Lira looked directly at Danaer and wished him good fortune with her eyes. Then the sorkra were gone, and once more the sentinels shut fast the doors.

Malol te Eldri was shuffling through some papers, and General Nurdanth, who sat at his side, said po-Htely, "My friend, your aide has returned."

*'Ah! This is the accused Troop Leader, Branra?" The Royal Commander pointed to a bench before the oflficers' table, and Danaer perched gingerly on its edge. His helmet and weapons lay to one side, placed in a neat pile, treated with respect.

Particulars were recited for archives, and Malol's scribe scratched the notations on clay. If the hearing were judged worthy of record, he would transfer proceedings to parchment. Danaer hoped matters would not reach such a pass. The formalities done. Prince Diilbok began a rambling account of the events, from his opinion. Though vague, he was at pains to heap blame on Danaer at every turn. The nobleman seemed less in his cups than usual, and Danaer listened closely.

"And when he was asked to defend his statement, this traitorous—"

"The unadorned facts will do for now," General Nurdanth said mildly.

"With your permission. Lord General, I would add my testimony." Captain Yistar, with an occasional confirming remark from Branra, supplied quite a different version of the riot and its aftermath. The Royal Commander and Nurdanth first stared with

surprise and then with growing outrage at Diilbok.

"Is this the way of it, cousin?" Maloi te Eldri said when Yistar finished.

Yistar had described the ill-planned assault on the Square of the Clarique Trader, and the Prince hastened to answer the criticism. "I deemed that speed was the best tactic in—"

"Enough!"

"But you have not heard—"

"I have already heard more than I wish to bear!" Malol exclaimed. "We came to Siank garrison to help, not to sacrifice our troops in street brawls. There is a war at hand, and we will need every soldier. The scribe is instructed to remove all references to charges that Troop Leader Danaer was negligent during the defense of the square."

"But I claim justice!" Prince Diilbok would not let the matter drop, even at the risk of angering his kinsman.