Hanira, Syndic of Tarsis and mistress of the guild of goldsmith and jewelers, never married again. She lived for twenty-four years after the death of her daughter, Valderra, and when the gods claimed her she was reputed to be the richest woman in the world. It took a hundred laborers three days to empty her personal hoard of coins from the vaults of Golden House.
The forty-three years of war and dynastic struggle that raged after Ackal V’s death were known collectively as the Successors’ War, because each faction put forth new heirs and new claimants to the power of Ergoth as soon as the previous pretenders perished. It was a war of pities and sieges mostly, and the countryside was spared heavy damage.
The eventual victor was Pakin IV-not an Ackal, but a true descendant of the great Pakin Zan. When his armies were sweeping through the Eastern Hundred, one of his scouts became separated from his horde. Confused (one hill looked very like another to the city-bred Rider), he rode down cart tracks and cow paths, searching for his comrades. He could get no help. Frightened peasants fled at his approach.
Early one spring morning, the lost scout came across an old man working a field. The peasant saw him coming but didn’t run away. The Pakin warrior rode up slowly, hailing the farmer in a friendly fashion, and offering a silent prayer to Corij that the oldster could tell him where in Chaos’s name he was.
Stooped and weather-worn, the farmer looked up at him. “Greetings, my lord,” he said readily enough.
“And to you, good man. I’m lost. Can you tell me where I am?”
“This is the Jura Hill Country, my lord,” the peasant replied, leaning against his hoe.
“I know that!” Striving to control his exasperation, the young warrior added, “Where is the nearest town?”
“The village of Pate’s Knob is half a day’s ride that way.” The old man pointed due east with one large hand.
“No, no. Where’s the nearest real town?”
“That would be Juramona, my lord. Three days, north-northeast.”
Relief spread across the rider’s face. He grinned, teeth white against his grimy, sun-baked face.
“Juramona! That’ll do. We took Juramona ten days ago!”
“ ‘We?’ ”
The proud Rider straightened his hack. “The loyal hordes of our rightful emperor, Pakin IV!”
Pursing his lips, the old man nodded slowly. He unhooked a heavy gourd from the cloth sash around his neck and offered it to the Rider.
The warrior took it gratefully. After the first swallow, his eyes widened. Instead of the spring water he’d expected, it was filled with potent cider.
The farmer chuckled at his expression. “That will light a fire in your veins, eh, my lord?”
“Indeed! You must have a leather throat to drink this stuff, old man!”
“I’m used to it.” The farmer took the gourd back and drank two quick swallows of cider before hooking the gourd on his sash again. “So, the Pakins took Juramona. By storm or by siege?”
“By storm. We scaled a section of wall by night.”
“Mmm. Not like the old days.”
Warmed by his unexpected libation, the Pakin leaned comfortably on the pommel of his saddle and asked what he meant.
“Juramona used to be a more formidable place. In Marshal Odovar’s day, no one could have scaled the wall and survived.”
The name of the long-ago marshal meant nothing to the twenty-four-year-old warrior. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Were you a soldier once?”
The old man plied his hoe again, loosening the soil along a row of onions. He shook his gray head. “No, my lord. Just a poor farmer.”
The Rider turned his horse in a half-circle, toward the northeast and Juramona. He took a single coin from the purse at his waist and tossed it to the elderly farmer.
“Thanks for your help, old man-and for the drink!” he said, and spurred away.
The farmer let the coin hit the ground. It was a newly minted silver crown and bore a glowering profile. The latest Pakin Pretender must be doing well enough if he had time and money to strike coins.
Raising his hoe, Tol cleaved a dry clump of soil into bits and raked them over the coin. He had no need of it. The directions were free, and so was he.