Part 4 (1/2)
Else paused. His eyes had not completed the transition from intense noon sunlight to interior gloom. ”Yes.”
”Will you follow me?”
The speaker wore simple clothing of a style recollecting that of the pagan priests of antiquity, a white cotton jacket with skirts that hung to the knee. This was the uniform of Gordimer's court wizards and augurs. This youngster would be a novice, not yet officially apprenticed. He would be a pure-blooded indigene, descended from the priestly caste of pagan times. Some of whom, if rumors could be credited, still followed the old ways in secret.
Though Else was supposed to report to Gordimer the moment he arrived, he could not refuse this summons. Er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen, called Rashal the Rascal by some, was as dangerous as Gordimer the Lion. Possibly more so. Er-Rashal's connections with the Instrumentalities of the Night made him powerful in his own right.
Er-Rashal was the nearest thing to an actual friend that Gordimer had in this world.
THE COURT SORCERER MET ELSE IN A ROOM NOT FAR FROM Gordimer's private audience. If Else were asked to pick the wizard out of a hundred strangers he would have chosen er-Rashal because the man fit the description of the wicked sorcerer in every old story and fairy tale told in this end of the world. He was a tall, dark man with heavy lips, a hooked nose, and a shaven skull. His eyes were dark and cold. His body was big and powerful. He looked two decades younger than his fifty years.
Er-Rashal chose to look like that specifically because everyone, n.o.ble and common, was raised on those stories. He wanted to be feared.
”Lord Rashal,” Else said. ”The Lion insisted that I see him as soon as I get here.”
”He's aware of your arrival.” The wizard's voice boomed. ”You know him. It will be an hour before he gets around to you. I've told the guards you'll be here with me if they don't find you outside the audience door.”
Else did not like this. It reeked of intrigue. This was the side of al-Qarn that he did not love.
He became nervous whenever he came in from the field. Al-Qarn was a political jungle. He was not cut out for its intrigues.
He was a soldier. He did not care who did what to whom in the capital. He had to take care of the men who followed him.
All of which made him a popular field commander. Officers beloved of their troops do not flourish in a dictators.h.i.+p. Gordimer himself was once a popular commander who came to power by eliminating an elderly, no-longer-effective predecessor.
Else nodded his understanding, waited for the wizard to get to the point Er-Rashal said, ”You did well with the mummies. I didn't think you'd manage it. Gordimer had more faith. I owe him twenty silver drachmas. Which you shouldn't take to mean that I didn't pray that you'd be successful.”
Else nodded again. ”Good thing you weren't determined not to lose your money. One miracle survival a mission is all I can manage.”
”That's what I want to ask you about. What I've heard so far baffles me.”
Else shrugged. ”There isn't much to tell, really. We were threatened by something that Az called a bogon. I did the only thing I could think of. Everything came out right.”
”Nevertheless... Your Master of Ghosts might have failed to notice something.”
Else told the story in detail. He was able to recall a lot because he knew he would be questioned repeatedly. Gordimer, in particular, would be interested in inimical supernatural manifestations around Sha-lug in the field. Especially north of al-Qarn.
Er-Rashal asked, ”Why did you load your falcon with coins?”
”I can't figure that out. I guess because I heard somewhere that night things don't like silver. I do remember thinking that it wouldn't really work.”
”Yet you never showed a doubt to your men.”
So er-Rashal had talked to Hagid. ”A good leader doesn't betray his doubts and doesn't become confused or fl.u.s.tered. He has to do something, even if it's wrong. When I had the falcon loaded with coins and gravel I was sure it was pointless. But it kept the men calm and occupied. That was the whole point at the time.”
”You were lucky. Silver is a potent poison to some night things, but only a few. Plain iron bothers more. You might consider taking along a sack of iron pellets if you're on a mission where you think you might have that kind of trouble.”
”Now I'm wondering if there wasn't iron gravel in the stuff we put in the cannon.”
”How did the falcon itself perform?”
”Better than I expected. You finally found the right alloy, or the right cooling process, or something. We couldn't find one flaw in the weapon afterward, although we overcharged it.”
The sorcerer indulged in a little preening. He had produced a portable cannon that worked under combat conditions. No one had done that before.
”That's good news. I'll make more, now. I wish there was a practical way to cast an iron tube.”
Else observed, ”Logically, iron would be better than bra.s.s.”
”Absolutely. And iron is almost immune to the Tyranny of the Night We're hunting ways to get around the difficulties. It's all trial and error, though.”
”The firepowder needs improvement. It draws moisture. The damper it gets the less power it has and the more noxious smoke it makes.” Else exulted secretly. He had diverted the thoughts of the smartest most dangerous man in the Kaifate. ”If it ignites at all.”
If you got er-Rashal onto one of his obsessions and grunted in the right places you were home free.
Else talked about firepowder weapons until the summons from Gordimer came.
ELSE WAS NOT AFRAID OF GORDIMER THE MAN. GORDIMER, THE grand marshal of the Sha-lug, was another matter. Gordimer knew that. And was not pleased. Gordimer preferred to be feared by everyone. Personally.
Else did not fear the man because he was pus.h.i.+ng fifty. Else himself was a hardened warrior in the prime of life.
When Else entered the presence with er-Rashal he accorded the warlord every ounce of respect he was due. He would continue to do so, regardless. While the marshal deserved that respect.
Gordimer the Lion was a tall, strong warrior risen so high he no longer worked to maintain the marvelous attributes that had helped him become famous when he was young. Else noted hints of fat and a sleepy droop of eye that suggested excessive personal indulgence. Further, he noted the flash of a female shape in gauze two steps slow in departing as he and the wizard arrived. Almost certainly on purpose, as a reminder of Gordimer's power.
”Cut the c.r.a.p,” Gordimer told Else while Else was amidst an elaborate ceremonial greeting. ”You put him up to this, Rashal? Captain Tage, there's n.o.body watching and I'm not the Kaif . Let's just talk, soldier to soldier.”
Gordimer still had the vast mane of blond hair that had given him his nickname. His nature was suitably ferocious both toward his own enemies and those of G.o.d.
Else told his tale simply. ”Things just went too smoothly for too long. Something like the bogon was bound to happen.”
”Rashal. You invited yourself here. Explain that to me.”
”A bogon is a shadow ent.i.ty of great power, almost never seen anymore. It would equate with a count or baron or even a kaif in the mundane world. But harder to kill.” Er-Rashal betrayed a tiny sneer. The Kaif of al-Minphet, through his proxy, Gordimer, had been trying to eliminate his irksomely deviationist rivals in Qasr al-Zed and al-Halambra for years. The main result was a missive from Indala al-Sul Halaladin indicating that he would not be pleased if anything happened to his Kaif.
Gordimer accepted the message at face value. The marshal respected Indala al-Sul Halaladin because of his signal successes in the Holy Lands.
Never having met, the men had been allies in wars against the outlanders. Wars that achieved little because whenever the northern Kaifate became involved in the Holy Lands it developed immediate border problems elsewhere. Inevitably, Rhun would invade Lucidia's northernmost provinces in an effort to recover lost territory. In the east, the Ghargarlicean Empire would start probing the borders there. The Ghargarliceans were very aggressive under their current emperor. Though now they had their own distractions from the Hu'n-tai At The Hu'n-tai At were pressing Lucidia from the northeast, too. They were like the Wrath of the One G.o.d being vented against everyone. Some Lucidian clerics believed that resisting the Hu'n-tai At meant defying the Will of G.o.d. Those clerics argued that Tsistimed the Golden, warlord of the Hu'n-tai At, was the Scourge of G.o.d prophesied in the Written, a pagan fury who, would punish the Realm of Peace for all the indulgences and, sins and lapses of the Faithful.
But there were fundamentalist mullahs who believed that living in fixed houses, dwelling in urban areas, living under any but the harshest conditions, const.i.tuted a surrender to the seductions of the Adversary.
Gordimer and his Kaif had not abandoned hope of seeing the end of the Kaif of Qasr al-Zed. That Kaif's champion would soon be too busy to hare off on any mission of vengeance.
Fundamentalist priests were more a nuisance in the Lucidian Kaifate than in the Dreangerean. The Lion was the sort who made certain no one became too critical.
Gordimer listened attentively while er-Rashal a.n.a.lyzed Else's journey into the Idiam, to Andesqueluz, and his return with six mummies.
Er-Rashal praised Else's quick thinking and unswerving determination. Praise from the sorcerer was rare.
The marshal interrupted. ”All right. He's a paragon. n.o.body else could have pulled it off. But that's why I sent him. He doesn't need to stand around listening to a clutch of broad-a.s.s bureaucrats tell him he's wonderful. He needs to know why I wanted him. So he can get to work planning.”