Chartomancy

Chapter Fifty

2nd day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

Imperial Road North, Nalenyr

It pleased Prince Pyrust that his presence shocked Count Linel Vroan. The Naleni noble had been summoned to the Inn of Gentle Seasons by envoys, promising a Desei representative to negotiate Nalenyr’s fate. To whom else does he imagine I would have entrusted such important talks?

Pyrust smiled and stepped away from the fire. “Please, my lord, join me.”

Vroan bowed respectfully, then doffed his cloak and tossed it to a minor functionary. “You are very kind, Highness.”

“Words I do not hear often from the Naleni.”

The Inn’s common room had been cleared of all patrons and the host had been well compensated for the disruption of his trade. Pyrust’s aides had removed the furnishings, leaving only one small round table and two chairs near the fire. A platter with cheese, smoked sausage, and rice balls sat in the middle of the table, along with a pewter wine pitcher and two goblets.

Pyrust waited for his guest to sit, then joined him. He poured wine, but did not raise a toast. He watched the Naleni closely and found things in the man that he could like. He already knew Vroan was a fierce fighter and shrewd leader. He’d recovered from his surprise quickly, and apparently had assessed the situation to the point where he was beginning to feel comfortable.

“Count Vroan, I will not insult you. I know that your accepting what amounts to an invitation to treason is not easy. You have ever been a champion of Nalenyr, and I assume you act out of that motivation.”

“Thank you, Highness.” Vroan’s green eyes flicked warily toward the kitchen, whence a crashing had come. “I act in the best interests of my nation.”

“Have you entertained the notion that my rule may be best for it?”

The Naleni noble leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “That has never been part of my consideration, Highness. I sought to oppose you, and hoped the invitation to negotiate would be one in which we could avoid hostilities. I had hoped you had stopped north of the Helos Mountains, but I can see this is not the case. May I ask how many troops you have with you?”

Pyrust sat back and took his cup in his half hand. He studied its dark depths. “I have six armies with me. Two are crack troops; two are Helosundian, one militia, the other well trained; and two are Desei militia. They are better trained than you would imagine. I have three more armies in Helosunde, again militia, but well trained.”

The numbers staggered Vroan. “And my troops in the mountains?”

“Helosundians have long garrisoned the posts your men were occupying. Because your people did not know I had convinced the Council of Ministers to ally themselves with me, your men were happy to welcome Helosundian warriors who were fleeing my conquest. We outnumbered your men and they were taken with a minimum of deaths. At the successful conclusion of our negotiations, I shall return them to you.”

“And my cooperation will be their ransom?”

Pyrust sipped his wine, then set the cup on the table again. “Though I have no obligation to explain my actions to you, I shall. I believe this will prompt you to understand the position you are in. I should state at the outset, however, that if your sole desire is to become the Naleni Prince, your ambition will be thwarted. While I live, that shall not be possible.”

“I see.” Vroan took up his cup, and only the ripple in the wine betrayed any nervousness.

“Prince Cyron has moved his best Helosundian mercenaries and house troops south toward the Virine border. You’ve been told this is because those units need time to retrain. I doubt you accepted this rationale, but you have done little to learn what his true motivation was.”

The Prince continued, ignoring Vroan’s confirming nod. “Erumvirine is under invasion. I know of this because an agent of Prince Jekusmirwyn brought to Felarati a message, which outlined the peril. I have every reason to believe the eastern half of Erumvirine has fallen, and I fear the capital has been taken as well. I further assume that Prince Cyron got a similar message and this is why he sent troops south.”

The evident shock on Vroan’s face told Pyrust all he needed to know about the man’s knowledge of the situation. And blaming the dissemination of information on the Virines hid just how much information Desei spies were providing the Prince. While Vroan doubtless had informants in his county and in the capital, his intelligence network probably did not extend much further.

“You are a military man, Count Vroan. Unlike Prince Cyron, you understand the importance of engaging an enemy well away from your own territory. I know you love your nation, as I love mine, so you will understand that I choose to fight this invasion in Erumvirine.”

Vroan nodded. “And Prince Cyron refused requests for your troops to transit through Nalenyr to the south.”

“Can you imagine a positive reply to such a request? Your Prince is a proud man, and were he half the warrior his brother was, I would have placed my troops under his command so we could stave off this threat. But since he is not, this is not possible.”

Vroan smiled. “You could place them under my command, Highness.”

“Don’t think that was not considered, my lord.” Pyrust kept his voice cool and sharp. “It was rejected because Cyron would see it as a rebellion, and that would trigger a civil war. You would spend more time fighting him than the invaders, in which case my troops would be wasted and the invasion would push through to Deseirion. This was deemed unacceptable.”

“Yes, of course.” Vroan drank a bit more wine, then brushed a drop from his lower lip with his thumb. “What is it that you expect of me?”

“Do you see the threat to Nalenyr? To all of us?”

“Assuming you’ve told me the truth, of course.”

“And you would agree it must be dealt with?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Pyrust stood and gathered his hands behind his back. “I will require you to swear fealty to me when I topple Cyron. I would have you move your troops south to help attack the invaders. I would further expect you to enlist other Naleni nobles, and even the citizenry, to this cause.”

Vroan sipped more wine, then looked up. “What do I get in return?”

“Did you not listen? The invaders will crush Nalenyr, and your holdings will go right along with everything else.”

“That I understand, Highness. But, as you said at the start, the invitation to treason is not one I accept lightly. Assuming we can stop the invaders if we work together, I should have some reward for my efforts. You might be able to accomplish your ends if I work with you, but your chances shrink if I oppose you.”

Pyrust smiled grudgingly. “You make an excellent point. As I noted before, you will not be Prince of Nalenyr. I can arrange, however, for you to administer Nalenyr and the international trade the nation conducts. If circumstances dictate that border realignment take place, I could carve a province out of the western halves of Nalenyr and Erumvirine that would be yours.”

“But would be part of your Desei Empire?”

“My ambition to be Emperor has been well known, but only necessity has forced me to reach for that prize.” Pyrust leaned forward on the table. “You would be part of my Empire, yes.”

“Then in the spirit of empire, I should ask the Emperor a favor-a favor I shall return. “

“What would that be?”

Vroan smiled. “I have a daughter who was recently widowed. You have but one wife. A Naleni wife would help you in so many ways.”

Pyrust stood and laughed. “Very well played, my lord. I knew you were quick of wit, and this you must have just thought of, for you could not have anticipated this turn of events. Tell me, had you thought of offering her to Cyron?”

Vroan shook his head. “She loathes him for killing her husband.”

“Ah, I see.” Pyrust nodded. “Consider it done, if your favor is of equal value.”

“It is of greater, my lord.” Vroan picked up a small cheese cube. “You won’t have to lay siege to Moriande. By the time you reach the capital, Prince Cyron will be dead.”

“The injuries he already has?”

“Another, more grievous.” Vroan bit the cheese in half. “Fatal.”

Pyrust frowned. “He’s to be assassinated?”

“Yes. Does this not please you?”

The Prince crossed his arms over his chest. “It does simplify things a great deal.”

Vroan set the half-eaten piece of cheese back on the table. “But you are disappointed.”

“I am.” Pyrust smiled slightly. “I had wanted to kill him myself.”

Vroan returned the smile. “I understand the sentiment. I would love to throttle him.”

“No, a thrust to the heart. Simple and quick but slow enough for him to look at the sword, then to look up at me.” Pyrust closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “That is how I saw it in a dream. That one, I see, was not of the future.”

“No, perhaps not.” Vroan drank again. “Nerot Scior has hired the assassin. Blame can be fixed to him, and you arrive to avenge the murder of a brother Prince. I side with you, the dissidents are pacified, and we force the invaders from Erumvirine. Once you take Kelewan, I would imagine the Five Princes will join or fall as you desire.”

“I hope the gods accept and bless your plan.”

“Grija certainly will.”

A thrill ran down Pyrust’s spine. Why did he mention Grija? “I hope so, even though our negotiation here has prevented many from entering his realm.”

The Naleni set his empty cup on the table and stood. “Delayed, my lord, not prevented. We all enter his realm eventually.”

“A point well taken.” Pyrust narrowed his eyes. “It would have been interesting to fight you. I would have met you at Tsaxun with twelve thousand.”

“And I would have defended with five. You might have prevailed, but there would have been no one left to bury the dead.” Vroan bowed deeply and held it, then came up slowly. “It is better to fight at your side.”

Pyrust bowed low, matching the depth, but cheating a bit on the duration. “You are quite right, my lord. This choice is an ill omen for the invaders. Please give my best wishes to your daughter.”

“I will. Would you have me meet you in Moriande with my house troops?”

“A regiment would be appropriate.”

“And if Scior comes to me for sanctuary?”

“Treason is punishable by death.” Pyrust nodded. “I’ll want his head to display from the gate of Wentokikun.”

“As you desire. Moriande, within the week.”

The Naleni noble withdrew and Pyrust refilled his own wine goblet. He glanced at the empty kitchen doorway, then drank. When he lowered his cup again, the Mother of Shadows filled the doorway.

She glanced at the Inn’s door. “For one come so reluctantly to treason, he seems very comfortable with it.”

“You didn’t know they were going to assassinate Prince Cyron?”

She shrugged. “There has never been a time when someone or other was not going to kill him. We do not know if they will be effective this time or not. His cabal has failed once already.”

“I recall.” Pyrust frowned. “He can’t be trusted, clearly. If he would plot to kill Cyron, he would certainly do the same to me. Still, he’ll be valuable in the field against the invaders. We’ll wait to see how successful he is. I want someone in position to kill him in the wake of his greatest glory.”

“You could let him liberate Kelewan.”

“His glory should not be that great. He has committed treason. He’ll win a battle, then die.”

“Yes, my lord.” She bowed her head solemnly, then looked up. “Something else troubles you.”

“Yes, the party we have not heard from. Twice the westrons will have hired assassins to kill Cyron. They cannot do that without compliance by a minister.”

“The ministers are ever operating against their Princes.”

“True, but we need them in the coming war.” Pyrust drained his cup. “If they are not with us, the effort will founder and we all shall die. And the difficulty with the ministers is that they won’t mind, just as long as it is all done in an orderly manner.”