Part 18 (2/2)

-ANONYMOUS LETTER

It is far better to outwit Truth than to apprehend it.

-AINONI PROVERB

Early Spring, 4112 Year-of-the-Tusk, Joktha

They ate in the privy dining chambers of the dead Grandee who had once ruled the Donjon Palace. The room possessed all the features Cnaiur had come to a.s.sociate with Kianene, as opposed to merely Fanim, decor. The threshold had been carved in the imitation of elaborately thatched mats. The single window opposite the entrance was shuttered with iron fretwork, which no doubt had once carried the same blooming vines he saw on similar windows throughout the city. And the walls were frescoed with geometric designs rather than images, stylized or otherwise.

The centre of the room dropped three steps, so that the table-which stood no higher than Cnaiur's knee-appeared to have been hewn from the floor. It was carved of mahogany and so polished that, given the proper angle, it possessed a mirror sheen. With a battery of candles as their only source of illumination, it seemed they sat in a sunken nest of pillows, surrounded by a shadowy gallery.

All of them were at pains not to rub knees-the perennial problem of dining at Kianene tables. Cnaiur occupied the head. Conphas sat to his immediate right, followed by General Sompas of the Kidruhil, then General Areamanteras of the Nasueret Column, General Baxatas of the Selial Column, and lastly General Imyanax of the Cepaloran Auxiliaries. To Cnaiur's immediate left sat Baron Sanumnis, followed by Baron Tirnemus, then Troyatti, the Captain of the Hemscilvara. The slaves hovered in the surrounding gloom, refilling wine bowls or removing spent plates. Two Conriyan knights in full battledress watched from the entrance, their silver war-masks drawn down.

”Sompas says lights were sighted on your private terrace,” Conphas remarked. His tone was offhand in the probing way of devious family members. ”What was it?” he asked, glancing at the man. ”Some four or five days ago?”

”The night of the rain,” the General said, barely looked up from his plate. He obviously harboured reservations, regarding either his Exalt-General's f.e.c.kless manner or the whole notion of dining with their Scylvendi captor. Probably both, Cnaiur mused-and much more besides.

Conphas stared in open expectancy of some kind of reply. Cnaiur matched his gaze, sheared the meat from a drumstick with exposed teeth, then returned his attention to his plate. He had suffered an unaccountable hankering for fowl of late.

He slurped back more unwatered wine, glimpsing the Exalt-General as he did so. There were still signs of bruising about his left eye. Like his Generals, he wore ceremonial military dress: a tunic of black silk chased in silver embroidery under a cuira.s.s stamped with stylized falcons about a colourless Imperial Sun. That the man had managed to have his wardrobe dragged across the desert, Cnaiur mused, spoke volumes.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw blood arcing across the walls.

Cnaiur had ostensibly summoned Conphas and his Generals here to discuss the arrival of the transports and the subsequent embarkation of his Columns. Twice now, he had quizzed the man on the matter, only to realize afterward that the answers the fiend provided only made apparent sense. But in truth, he cared nothing for the transports.

”Unnatural lights,” Conphas continued, still staring at Cnaiur in expectation of an answer. Of course, Cnaiur's earlier refusal to reply-as obvious as it was-had accomplished nothing. Men such as Ikurei Conphas, the Utemot Chieftain understood, did not embarra.s.s. lights,” Conphas continued, still staring at Cnaiur in expectation of an answer. Of course, Cnaiur's earlier refusal to reply-as obvious as it was-had accomplished nothing. Men such as Ikurei Conphas, the Utemot Chieftain understood, did not embarra.s.s.

Fear, however, was a far different matter.

He took another deep drink, watched Conphas's canny eyes following his wine bowl. There was cleverness to his look-an appraisal of potential weakness-but there was worry also. The matter with the sorcerer had spooked him, as Cnaiur had known it would.

Was this, he wondered, how the Dunyain felt?

”I wish,” Cnaiur said, ”to speak of Kiyuth.”

Conphas pretended to occupy himself with his meal. He ate in the effete twin-fork manner of the Nansur caste-n.o.bility, drawing each piece of food as though searching for pins. Given the circ.u.mstances, perhaps he did search for pins. His eyes were hooded when he looked up, but the taint of elation was unmistakable. In fact, there had been something ... exultant exultant about his manner since his arrival. about his manner since his arrival.

He plans something. He thinks me already doomed.

The Exalt-General shrugged. ”What about Kiyuth?”

”I'm curious ... What would you have done if Xunnurit had not attacked you?”

Conphas smiled in the manner of men who saw entire conversations from beginning to end. ”Xunnurit had no choice,” he said. ”That was the genius of my plan.”

”I don't understand,” Tirnemus said, spilling duck from the corners of his mouth as he did so.

”The Exalt-General had taken every factor into account,” Sompas explained with a soldier's first-hand confidence. ”The seasons and the demands of their herds. Their sense of honour and the acts that would incite them. And most importantly, their arrogance ...” Sompas cast a quick glance at Cnaiur as he said this, one that somehow managed to seem both vicious and worried.

Of all the Generals present, Biaxi Sompas puzzled Cnaiur the most. The Biaxi were the Ikurei's traditional rivals in the Congregate, yet the man could scarce speak without licking Conphas's b.a.l.l.s.

”The Scylvendi think b.u.g.g.e.ry taboo,” General Imyanax exclaimed in his thick accent, ”the greatest of obscenities ...” He had lifted his eyes ceiling-ward while saying ”greatest”; now he fixed Cnaiur with a gloating look. ”So the Exalt-General had all our captives raped in open view.”

Sompas blanched, while Baxatas scowled at the pugnacious Norsirai fool. Areamanteras laughed into his wine bowl but otherwise didn't dare look down the table. Both Sanumnis and Tirnemus cast discreet glances at their commander.

”Yes,” Conphas said blithely as he worked his forks. Tap-tap. Sc.r.a.pe-sc.r.a.pe. ”So I did.”

For a long moment no one dared utter a word. Devoid of expression, Cnaiur watched the Exalt-General chew.

”War ...” Conphas continued, as though it were only natural that men should hang on his enlightened discourse. He paused to swallow. ”War is no different than benjuka. The rules depend on the moves made, no more, no less.”

Before he could continue, Cnaiur said, ”War is intellect.”

Conphas paused, carefully set aside his silver forks.

Cnaiur pushed his own plate aside. ”You wonder where I heard that.”

The man pursed his lips and shook his head. He dabbed his chin with his nap. ”No ... You were there that day ... when I explained my tactics to Martemus. You were there, weren't you? Among the dead.”

”I was.”

Conphas nodded as though an old and arcane suspicion had been confirmed. ”I'm curious ... It was just Martemus and I that day ...” He looked at Cnaiur significantly. ”We had no escort.”

”You wonder why I did not kill you?”

The Exalt-General smirked. ”I was going to say try. ” ”

A slave's youthful hand reached from the darkness, drew Cnaiur's plate away. Gold and bones.

”The gra.s.ses,” he said. ”They knotted about my limbs. They bound me to the earth.”

A door had opened somewhere. He could see it clearly in all their eyes-even in those of his so-called subordinates. A door had opened, and terror had stepped into their midst.

I see you.

Only Conphas seemed oblivious. It was as though he lacked the required organs.

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