War Maid's choice

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“So you think I should actually listen to this fool?” Arthnar Sabrehand, Fire Oar and Fleet Captain of the River Brigands, demanded.

He took another long pull from his battered tankard, adam’s apple bobbing, then smacked the tankard down on the expensive, exquisitely inlaid table-a piece of Saramanthan work worth more than most men would ever see in a lifetime which had somehow failed to make it across the Lake of Storms to its intended Sothoii purchaser some years earlier. It had been hard used over those years, but its pedigree still showed through all the casual scratches, gouges and chips, like an old and weary soldier not yet ready to quit despite wounds and too many harsh campaigns. A fresh spill of ale dribbled down the tankard’s side to make yet another ring on the tabletop, another stain on the soldier’s shield, and the Fire Oar glowered across it at the man he knew as Talthar.

“ I haven’t seen any evidence the man can find his arse with both hands!” The River Brigand chieftain belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So far, Tellian and that bastard Bahnak-oh, and let’s not forget Bahzell — have pinned his ears back every time he’s crossed swords with them. And don’t even get me started on the frigging dwarf!”

Arthnar’s table manners might leave a little to be desired, Varnaythus reflected, and his shaggy mane of oily black hair and the bushy beard that went with it were an accurate hint that he wasn’t the sort of fellow you’d care to invite home as a house guest. Not unless you wanted to see your house burned to the ground, at any rate. But he did have a way of coming straight to the point. Which was probably only to be expected of the man who’d cut his way to the office of Fleet Captain, Fire Oar of the River Brigands, almost twenty years ago…and stayed on the Captain’s Thwart ever since. Becoming Fleet Captain and winning the title of Fire Oar hadn’t necessarily required much in the way of brains-ruthlessness, a ready sword, a naturally devious nature, and the ability to buy support with promises of plunder had been more than enough for that. Staying Fleet Captain, though…that took some doing.

And for all his contempt for Cassan, it’s largely his…understanding with him that’s allowed Arthnar to stay in his position, the wizard reflected. He’s actually managed to convince his council of captains that it makes more sense to charge tolls on traffic crossing the Lake of Storms than it does to raid. Cassan doesn’t care; he simply passes the cost of the toll-it would never do to call it “tribute,” after all-along to his customers and blames it on the Purple Lords and the threat of the River Brigands without ever mentioning that he’s actually paying them off. And Arthnar’s even managed to negotiate a subsidy from the Purple Lords for letting their trade pass unhindered, as well!

Of course, what neither Cassan nor the Purple Lords (nor the majority of Arthnar’s own followers) knew was that a little discreet help from Sharna, the dog brothers, and Carnadosa-in the person of one Master Varnaythus, although Arthnar knew him as Talthar Sheafbearer-had also played their part in the Fleet Captain’s successful longevity. Unfortunately, no one could ever accuse Arthnar of an excess of piety. He was perfectly prepared to work with the Dark Gods, but it was purely business as far as he was concerned, and he’d been more careful than most about staying out of their clutches. He was willing to use them, but he never forgot for one moment that they hadn’t been so happy to help him over the years out of the goodness of their hearts. He was ready enough to help them achieve their goals as long as that helped him achieve his, yet that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to trust them, and he was adamantly opposed to allowing himself to simply be used by them.

But even the wiliest fish ends up in the boat eventually, if the hook’s been properly set, Varnaythus reminded himself. If he has no objection to using Them, then They certainly have no objection to using him. And nothing They’ve said to me suggests They’re especially concerned about whether or not this particular fish survives in the process.

Given the man’s personality, Varnaythus was privately rooting for “not,” although it would never do to suggest anything of the sort to Arthnar, of course.

“I think whether or not you should listen to him depends entirely on how happy you’ll be to see Kilthandahknarthas sailing cheerfully by your ports on the Lake of Storms and Bahnak of Hurgrum and Tellian of Balthar maintaining patrols all the way down the Hangnysti to the lake,” he said after a moment, and shrugged. “Somehow I think Tellian and Kilthan are going to be less than willing to maintain the sort of…relationship you’ve had with Cassan. House Harkanath has hired entire armies in its time to deal with bandits, and I rather doubt Kilthan’s going to regard you and your fellow captains as anything other than bandits who happen to float to work. I suppose you might be able to count on increasing your subsidy from the Purple Lords as long as they think they could use you to bottleneck the Axemen’s trade down the Spear from the lake, but how long will they realistically be able to do that before Bahnak and Tellian burn Krelik and Palan to the ground?”

“They won’t find that so easy as kicking a bunch of ghouls’ arses!” Arthnar snapped, glaring at the wizard, and Varnaythus shrugged again.

“Possibly not, but I don’t think either of them is the sort to be dissuaded just because a task looks a little difficult. Neither one of them would be where they are right now if they thought that way. And with Kilthan and the rest of Silver Cavern ready to cover their expenses and ship all the weapons, armor, and food they need through their brand-new canal, well-”

He shrugged a third time, and Arthnar gritted his teeth. Master Talthar was correct, of course, he thought sulfuriously. He knew exactly how Tellian would react to the sort of arrangement he had with Cassan. The Baron of Balthar, for all the surprising flexibility he’d displayed over the last few years, was a Sothoii of the old school where his personal honor was concerned. And then there was Bahnak, as pragmatic and ruthless a hradani warlord as had ever lived, and one likely to reflect that a single sharp military campaign or two would ultimately cost him far less than years of extorted “tolls.” And none of that even considered Kilthandahknarthas, who was quite probably the most ruthless-not to mention the wealthiest — of the three and, as Talthar had just pointed out, had a short way with bandits. But still…

“From all I’ve heard and all my agents have been able to discover,” he growled after a moment, “they’ve practically finished their damned canal- and their tunnel-already!” He hawked up a gob of phlegm and spat it noisily into the battered spittoon beside his chair, then glowered at his visitor with profound disgust. “So to hear you tell it, no matter how it works out, I’m screwed. That being the case, why should I risk a single pimple on my arse for that idiot Cassan?”

A reasonable question, Varnaythus conceded silently. Not that I have any intention of admitting that to you.

“Because there’s one way you might be able to not simply maintain your current arrangement but make an even better profit off of it,” he said instead.

“Aye?” Arthnar arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And how might that miracle be brought to pass?”

His tone was a bit less abrasive than it had been, and Varnaythus could almost literally see the thoughts working through the brain behind the Fire Oar’s brown eyes. Cassan might go out of his way to avoid any official knowledge of Varnaythus’ true nature, but Arthnar knew perfectly well that “Master Talthar” was a wizard. He probably didn’t know he was a Carnadosan, as well. In fact, Varnaythus had been at some pains to convince him that Talthar was actually a renegade Spearman in the service of the Purple Lords, although he frankly doubted Arthnar would’ve cared a copper kormak even if he’d known “Master Talthar” had been dispatched from Trofrolantha itself. On the other hand, he did know at least a little bit about the…special abilities Master Talthar could bring to the table, since he’d made use of them himself in the past.

“It’s all a question of who controls the new route,” Varnaythus told him now. “I think you’re right; it’s progressed too far for anyone to stop it now. And I don’t think my…employers to the south, shall we say, are going to be happy about that.” He held out his right hand above the table, palm down, and waggled it from side to side. “In fact, I think they’re going to be very un happy, but I believe I’d be able to endure their sorrow if it happened I’d been able to make even better arrangements for myself somewhere else.” He smiled at Arthnar. “And by the strangest coincidence, I believe I may have found a way to do just that.”

“Have you now?” Arthnar sat back, running the fingers of his right hand through his beard and considering his guest speculatively.

“If it should happen that Tellian and Bahnak’s expedition into the Ghoul Moor suffered a sufficiently unfortunate accident, it might well put the entire project back for several years.” Varnaythus’ smile grew thinner and more sharklike. “I doubt even that would manage to stop it in the long term, but it would probably be the best-case outcome from my employers’-my current employers’, I mean-perspective, and I’ve made certain arrangements which may actually be enough to bring it about. I’d say the chances are at least close to even, in fact, although I’d never be foolish enough to promise they’ll succeed. If they do, however, I’m sure everyone will be happy to maintain our existing relationships. On the other hand,” he waggled his hand again, “my arrangements may not succeed, which is why I think Baron Cassan’s plan has something to recommend it. If something should…happen to King Markhos and Prince Yurokhas-something tragic and unfortunate, you understand-and if Baron Cassan had been able to reach an understanding with Baron Borandas before that happened, then it’s almost certain either Cassan or, more likely, Yeraghor would end up being named Crown Prince Norandhor’s-I’m sorry, King Norandhor’s-regent. And if that should happen, then the Crown would step in and demand control of the entire canal.”

“And you actually think that might happen? ” Arthnar gave a crack of scornful laughter. “Yeraghor and Cassan might- might! — be able to force Tellian to surrender his stake in in it if they control the Great Council, but Bahnak and Kilthan?” The Fire Oar shook his head. “Either one of them alone would tell those two piss-ants to pound sand! Both of them together would invite them to bring their damned army down the Escarpment and try to enforce that little ‘demand’ of theirs!”

“Really?” Varnaythus cocked his head. “You think Bahnak would risk the destruction of everything he and his father have spent their entire lives building? Because that’s what any Sothoii army would really have in mind if it came ‘down the Escarpment,’ and Bahnak would know that as well as you and I do. And then there’s Kilthan. Do you think the King Emperor would thank the head of one of the Empire’s trading houses for embroiling the Axemen in a war with the Empire’s most important ally over a trade route? ”

Arthnar looked suddenly more thoughtful, and Varnaythus leaned back in his chair and rested his forearm comfortably on the table.

“Bahnak might,” the Fire Oar said after a moment. “He’s hradani, and he’s stubborn, and with all the northern clans united at his back, he’d probably figure-rightly, I think-that he’d have a damned good chance at beating the horse boys, especially with someone like Cassan commanding them in the field. But I hadn’t thought about the King Emperor. He wouldn’t thank Kilthan for dragging the Empire into that kind of a position, would he?”

“I think that’s probably putting it mildly,” Varnaythus agreed. “And if Kilthan wound up advising Bahnak to accept the Crown decree in return for a smaller but still quite tasty slice of the pie, Bahnak’s probably a practical enough fellow to take the advice. After all, it’s going to be a very large pie, isn’t it? Large enough that Kilthan, Bahnak, the Sothoii-and you-could all carve off bigger chunks than you’ve ever seen before. It’s not that Cassan has any objection to Axeman merchants being able to trade directly with the Spearmen without having to go through the Purple Lords, you know. It’s not even that he has any objection to the Axemen making money hand over fist. He only objects to all of the profit from that money going into Tellian’s purse instead of his own. And he’s a reasonable man. All of you could make quite a comfortable profit off of the trade, and it would still be far cheaper for the Axemen-and the Spearmen, for that matter-than the existing arrangement.”

Arthnar nodded, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. It wasn’t a nod of agreement, Varnaythus knew, but it was one of understanding.

The Fire Oar took another thoughtful swallow of ale, then gave the wizard a very sharp look, indeed.

“Assuming all of this was going to work half as well as Cassan seems to be expecting, why does he need me? I’d sooner not go wading around in a Sothoii swamp. They tend to be full of snakes with horse bows and lots of nasty, pointy arrows. And that notion of something unfortunate happening to Markhos and Yurokhas…why do I have the feeling Cassan thinks I might be stupid enough to provide it?”

“It’s not so much that he needs you to provide it,” Varnaythus said, “as that he needs someone besides himself to provide it. He can scarcely assassinate the King and the Prince and then expect to be named regent, now can he?”

“And there’s some reason you think the Sothoii wouldn’t burn Krelik and Palan even flatter than Bahnak and Tellian if it happened they thought I’d had anything to do with killing their King?” Arthnar snorted harshly. “No, thank you, Master Talthar. There are simpler and less messy ways of committing suicide!”

“I didn’t say he needed it to be you,” Varnaythus said patiently. “But it does have to be someone from outside the Kingdom. Actually, he’s thinking in terms of a double feint, as it were.”

“Overly clever idiots always make me nervous,” Arthnar grunted, and Varnaythus nodded in agreement.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” he said. “But what Cassan really needs from you is for you to act as…a broker, or perhaps an expediter. Very much the way you did in that attempt on Tellian earlier this summer.”

Their eyes met across the table, and Varnaythus smiled faintly.

“I’m afraid Cassan was just a bit miffed when he realized how cleverly you’d managed to suggest he was the one behind the attack. Personally, I rather enjoyed the irony, since he was the one who’d paid for it, after all. He didn’t quite see it that way, though.” The wizard shrugged. “But after he’d thought about it for a while, it suggested another possibility to him. He wants you to recruit the manpower he’s going to need-hire as many Spearman mercenaries as you can in the time you have, and see who you can pick up from the Border Kingdoms, as well. But you could still fill out the numbers with your own River Brigands…as long as none of them know you’re the one hiring them.”

“And who would actually be hiring them? Officially, I mean?” Arthnar’s eyes had narrowed and he was frowning intensely.

“Why, the Purple Lords, of course!” Varnaythus smiled more broadly. “Obviously, they’ve decided the King is going to support Tellian after all, and they’ve taken steps to prevent the destruction-the total destruction, when you come down to it-of their trade monopoly. Not hard to understand why they might feel that way, given that their entire economy depends on that monopoly, now is it? Of course, after Cassan-the new Regent, I mean, whoever he happens to be-discovers who was behind it, the knowledge will only make him even more determined to push the canal through and see that it operates under the Crown’s aegis as a way to crush the Purple Lords completely.”

“That might work.” Arthnar stroked his beard again, brown eyes half-shut while the brain behind them raced through the possibilities. “Assuming he could actually sell the notion that the Purple Lords were behind it, of course. And,” the Fire Oar added grudgingly, “it would actually make a kind of sense, I suppose. But you said he was thinking about a double feint.”

“Oh, indeed I did.” This time Varnaythus’ smile was positively beatific. “That’s why we have to put this entire operation together so quickly. Tellian’s placed his hunting lodge at Chergor at the King’s disposal, and Markhos will be taking himself off to spend some time there in another few weeks. After how hectic the spring session’s been in Sothofalas, he wants to keep things as simple as possible, too, so he’s taking only his personal guard and a handful of his senior advisors, like Macebearer and Shaftmaster. He’s planning on staying there for quite some time, hiding from all those damned courtiers, so we’ll know where to find him for-oh, at least two months or so. And, of course, Chergor’s in the West Riding, now isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Arthnar acknowledged slowly.

“Well, at this moment Tellian and the others believe Markhos is going to approve their operation and grant the canal a Crown charter on their terms. It’s all supposed to be a secret, of course, but you know how secrets have a way of leaking at court. Especially when someone makes it his business to get behind the effort and encourage the leaks. I’m afraid, however, that Cassan’s come into possession of a draft charter-one in the handwriting of the King’s personal secretary, not the Prime Councilor’s-which actually happens to establish exactly the sort of arrangement I was just discussing with you a few moments ago. Now, clearly Tellian would be horribly upset to discover the King had reached that decision when the good Baron had been confidently expecting to get everything he wanted. Why, he might actually be upset enough to decide to murder the King-and blame it on the Purple Lords, of course-and to substitute a forged charter more in line with all of those rumors. In fact, it might turn out he’d planted those rumors himself expressly so he could substitute that forgery of his and have people accept it. And as part of his despicable plot, he generously offered to loan his hunting lodge to the King in order to get him into a comfortable spot to be assassinated. It might be a little risky of him to have it all happen on his own lands, but he’d know he could control the situation there…and he’d undoubtedly be counting on how his long friendship with Prince Yurokhas-and Yurokhas’ known antipathy for Cassan-would lead Yurokhas to accept his version of what happened. Under the King’s will, Yurokhas would become Norandhor’s regent, so if Tellian was able to convince Yurokhas the Purple Lords-or even, perhaps, Baron Cassan — had been behind it, he’d undoubtedly get everything he wanted all along.”

“No one who actually knows Tellian would believe that for a moment,” Arthnar said, but his tone was thoughtful, not an objection.

“Perhaps not, but how many people do actually know him?” Varnaythus riposted. “And the gods know ambition can make a man do strange things. For that matter, Tellian’s used up a huge amount of his credit with the more conservative lords warden over this business with Bahnak and his friendship with Prince Bahzell. None of the conservatives are happy with that, and they’re going to be even less happy when the word finally leaks out to the Kingdom as a whole that Tellian’s daughter is actually sleeping with Bahzell!”

“She’s what? ” Arthnar blinked in astonishment, and Varnaythus allowed himself a laugh.

“That’s exactly what she’s doing, and when the real conservatives find out, they’re probably going to think she should’ve gone ahead and bedded a donkey, instead. It certainly wouldn’t have been any worse, by their way of thinking, and given the way diehard Sothoii think, the insult and ‘perversion’ involved in that is far more likely to generate disgust and revulsion than any mere matter of high treason and murder! And the political infighting in Sothofalas this year’s been the bitterest anyone can remember, Arthnar. Tellian’s opponents are going to be more than ready to believe the worst, especially if believing it-however ridiculous it might be-lets them knock him out of the saddle. For that matter, given the nastiness of the fight, even some of Tellian’s supporters are likely to find themselves wondering how far he might be willing to go to win, especially given that charter Cassan will ‘find.’ After all, if he’s discovered that the King’s been playing him along all the while-that he’s actually decided to support Cassan and only pretended to be favoring Tellian to put him off guard-who knows how he might have reacted? All of that’s going to be running through the backs of their brains, whether they think it’s likely or not. However you look at it, tensions are going to run high, suspicion is going to be everywhere, and fingers are going to be pointing in every imaginable direction while people look for enemies and try to square old accounts. If the North Riding throws its support to Cassan and Yeraghor on the Great Council, that should be enough to carry the day at least long enough to get one of them named Regent. And once one of them is named Regent, Tellian is done.”

Arthnar sat back in his own chair, tugging at his beard while he thought hard. He stayed that way for the better part of three minutes, then refocused his gaze on Varnaythus.

“That all sounds well and good, and it might even work. But I’m not prepared to just write Tellian off. He’s too tough a customer, and much as I might like to see his head on a pike somewhere, I’m not stupid enough to underestimate him. There’s not an ounce of give in him, and if someone starts accusing him of murdering the King, he’s not going to sit back and take it.”

“He might, if the alternative were a return to the Time of Troubles,” Varnaythus pointed out. “Especially if Cassan and Yeraghor were to officially declare that since there’s no real proof he was behind it, they personally were prepared to take his word that he wasn’t. With the understanding, of course, that if he raises a ruckus they’ll decide not to take his word.”

“He might, and if pigs had wings they ‘ might’ be pigeons!” Arthnar snorted. “More likely, though, he’d call out his armsmen and cut a swath clear across the South Riding on his way to the East Riding!”

“He might,” Varnaythus replied, deliberately reusing the same two words. “If he was alive, of course.”

“Excuse me? Was there some part of this master plan you’d forgotten to mention to me?” Arthnar demanded caustically.

“Well, ideally, Baron Cassan will become aware-belatedly, I’m afraid-that a large body of mercenaries has crossed part of the South Riding on its way towards Chergor. One of the mercenaries in question will have fallen into his hands, perhaps. Or possibly the poor fellow fell off his horse and broke his neck, and Cassan’s armsmen found some incriminating document in his saddle bag. At any rate, Cassan will discover that this body of mercenaries is headed towards Chergor, apparently in the Purple Lords’ pay, although that could turn out to be purely a clever bit of camouflage on the part of someone else, like, oh, Baron Tellian. Knowing His Majesty is at Chergor, Cassan will immediately call out his own armsmen and ride in pursuit to attempt to rescue the King. He’ll send a warning to Balthar, too, of course-the fact that he and Tellian have their differences couldn’t possibly be allowed to stand in the way of protecting the King! Unfortunately, it’s a long way from Toramos to Balthar, so it’s most unlikely his messenger will be able to get there in time.

“Meanwhile, Cassan will ride hell-for-leather for Chergor in person. Hopefully, despite his heroic efforts, he’ll arrive just too late, and the mercenaries will have killed everyone at Chergor, including Baron Tellian who-in this version, of course-will have fallen fighting desperately in the King’s defense against the Purple Lords’ assassins. Should that have happened, Cassan will do his level best to take at least some of the assassins alive to be interogated before magi and prove he had nothing to do with the plot. If, however, Cassan is unlucky enough to arrive before that moment, or if it should happen the King’s guard manages to fight off the mercenaries, then Cassan will discover that Tellian was actually behind it. And when he summons Tellian to surrender to give an account of this tragic assassination to the Great Council, Tellian will refuse and be killed by the loyal armsmen trying to take him into custody. Of course, the King will have to already be dead before that happens to make everything work out properly, but I’m sure Cassan can handle a little creative rearrangement of the chronology if he has to.

“As far as Baron Cassan is concerned, either of those outcomes is quite acceptable, although he’d obviously prefer the first one. If Tellian doesn’t happen to be at Chergor, instead-he hasn’t been home to Balthar in quite some time, and it’s entirely possible he’ll be off on a visit at the critical moment-then Cassan would be forced to fall back on the charter in his possession to prove-or at least strongly suggest-Tellian’s involvement. Obviously, it would be far more convenient if he didn’t have to do that.”

“And Yurokhas and Trianal?”

“I think it’s entirely possible both of them might end up dead even before the King, given the little surprise I’ve arranged on the Ghoul Moor.” Varnaythus smiled unpleasantly. “It’s a remarkably nasty surprise, if I do say so myself. And on top of that, I understand Baron Cassan has sent a rather skilled specialist of his own-a man who’s very good with an arbalest or a horse bow-to attend to the Prince. I’m sure that if the opportunity presents itself, Sir Trianal will receive the same treatment.”

“There are an awful lot of separate moving parts to this strategy of Cassan’s,” Arthnar observed. From his tone-and from the look in the narrowed eyes gazing at Varnaythus-an unbiased witness might have concluded that the Fire Oar was less than convinced Cassan had come up with the idea all on his own. “Any one of them, or all of them, could come apart.”

“That’s possible,” Varnaythus conceded. “I think it’s highly unlikely all of them would fail, however. They might, and I won’t pretend that couldn’t happen, but how much worse off would you be if it did?”

“You mean if King Markhos, and Baron Tellian, and Prince Yurokhas, and Bahnak, and Bahzell, and Kilthan, and the gods only know who else, all survive and every one of them wants my blood for helping Cassan try to kill them?” Arthnar asked acidly.

“That would require them to know that, though,” Varnaythus pointed out. “It’s the Purple Lords hiring the mercenaries, if I recall properly.”

“And you think Markhos and his magi wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of Cassan?” Arthnar’s tone had gone beyond acid to derisive, and Varnaythus allowed himself a chuckle.

It was a remarkably cold chuckle, the Fire Oar noticed.

“I’m afraid Baron Cassan knows too much about my own business in the Kingdom,” he said. “I won’t bore you with all the minor details,” he waved his right hand in a brushing away gesture, “but let’s say it could be… inconvenient for me if he were to be properly interrogated by the King’s investigators.”

“You seem remarkably unconcerned about the possibility,” Arthnar said slowly, and Varnaythus shrugged.

“Let’s just say I’ve taken certain precautions to make certain that doesn’t happen. Of course, I might still find it expedient to take a short vacation someplace besides the Wind Plain-just for a year or two, perhaps, while things quiet down again. I was thinking about Krelik, as a matter of fact. I’m sure a Fleet Captain of your stature could find some minor service a man of my talents might perform to repay you for your hospitality.”

“Oh, I imagine I could,” Arthnar agreed after a moment. “If I really thought about it for a while, I mean.”

And he smiled.