Mind you, I did not forget that I was the King of Djanduin. But Djanduin was dwaburs away in Havilfar, and my friends could run affairs there perfectly. The moment I could snatch the time from Vallia, it would be Djanduin for me. Even, perhaps, before Strombor. As the Lord of Strombor I reposed absolute faith and confidence in Gloag, who was a good comrade and the one handling everything there. That I had some still remaining links with Hamal, the hated enemy of Vallia, remained true. I was, in Hamal, Hamun ham Farthytu, the Amak of Paline Valley. Nulty was the one in charge there. But that seemed to me distant and vague and blurred; one day I would return to Paline Valley. As Hamun ham Farthytu I would seek out my good comrades, Rees and Chido. Good comrades, and also Hamalese and therefore foemen to Vallians.
What a nonsense all that was!
The plans I hoped to see come to fruition demanded that Vallia and Hamal join hands in friendship, and with the nations of the island of Pandahem begin to form that grand alliance we must forge so as to combat the vicious shanks who raided from over the curve of the world. All these things went around in my head continually as we worked on the immediate problems of clearing Vallia of her invaders. The news from Seg reaffirmed his skill in keeping the clansmen off our necks until we were able to defeat them once and for all. Patrols of observation in the southwest reported little movement from the invaders there; but that part of the island had been under the heel of foreign lords with their mercenaries for long enough for us to watch and ward the borders and build our strength for the counterstroke. The Presidio now met regularly in the sumptuous Villa of Vennar, situated on one of the exclusive hills of Vondium. The place had been abandoned since its lord, Kov Layco Jhansi, had proved himself a double dyed villain and a traitor. The deren[1]of the Presidio had been burned to the ground. We would not waste resources on rebuilding that, not until Vallia was free, and particularly when there were abandoned villas with enormous chambers suitable for the purposes of the Presidio lying empty. In the Presidio Kov Vodun na Kaldi proved a volatile and persuasive speaker. Constantly he sought to encourage us to action. His hatred for the Hamalese and the Pandaheem was implacable. With his reiterated calls for the utter destruction of the invaders he reminded me of Cato and his never-ending Carthago delenda est.
Various conversations with him from time to time revealed him as a man with a history. Fretful at being the son of a kov who might have to wait years before he came into the title, the lands and power, and the responsibility, he went abroad and became a mercenary. Because Vallia had not kept a standing army, being mainly a trading maritime nation, many of her young men took themselves overseas to become mercenaries. Many had become famous paktuns. Kov Vodun was one such, entitled to wear the pakmort, the silver mortil-head on its silk cord at his throat. He did not wear it at home for, as he said, that would be too flamboyant.
So, he did understand something of soldiering.
He mentioned various places in Loh, where most of his service had been spent, and, as I summed him up, he grew in my estimation. We needed men like this, tough, no-nonsense professionals to put the polish on the crowds of eager but raw recruits who flocked to the standards. When I offered him a brigade, somewhat diffidently, I must admit, expecting him to refuse, he accepted.
“Give me the brigade, majister. You will soon see my men will form the best brigade in the army.”
The appointment was warmly endorsed by the Presidio.
Thinking myself foolish for offering a command to a man half expecting him to refuse — a very poor way of going on — I wondered if Delia’s attitude had contributed to that feeling of inexplicable hesitancy. Naghan Vanki, the emperor’s chief spymaster, reported that everything Kov Vodun had said was true. Vanki gave him a clean bill of health, and my spirits lifted at that. Asked about the mysterious green-cloaked figure, Vanki gave his thin smile.
“He is merely an adviser to the kov, majister. He is one of the Wizards of Fruningen, a small sect but with some claim to serious consideration. They regard Opaz, I am told, as a single entity and not, as indeed they truly are, the Invisible Twins, one and indissolubly twins.”
I raised my eyebrows at this, for Vanki expressed an extreme view. Most people regarded Opaz as the spirit of the Invisible Twins made manifest. And I knew of the island of Fruningen, a small rocky scrap jutting out of the sea northwest of the island of Tezpor. Reports, amplified by Kov Vodun, told us that the Vad of Tezpor, Larghos the Lame, had been hanged upside down from his own rooftree by flutsmen. And, Tezpor lay due north of the large island of Rahartdrin. There was nothing simple I could do for Katrin Rashumin save pray to all the gods she was safe.
“So far I have not met a Wizard of Fruningen,” I said to Naghan Vanki. “They are clearly not to be compared to the Wizards of Loh.” At this Vanki let his thin smile indicate the idiocy of the remark. I went on: “But how stand they in relation to the Sorcerers of Murcroinim?”
“If one were to engage the other in wizardly combat, Majister, I fear they would both disappear in puffs of smoke.”
“At least that argues real powers.”
“Yes.”
Naghan Vanki had dealt with a few real powers in his time, powers of steel and gold; I did not think a sorcerer would discompose him overmuch. A tough, wily old bird, Naghan Vanki, always impeccable in his silver and black.
So Kov Vodun got his brigade and began smartening them up and putting a snap in their step and iron into their backbones.
Then, although it spelled misery and desolation for the unfortunate people involved, an event occurred which gave me a capital opportunity to delegate responsibilities in Vondium to the Crebent-Justicar, the Lord Farris, and the Presidio, and take off for action.
“So you are off again, then, husband,” said Delia as I strapped on my harness in our rooms and wondered just what selection of weaponry to take. “This time I think I shall go with you, for the folk of Bryvondrin have suffered much and yet they have taken in and cared for the people of the occupied provinces east of the Great River. And they are our people.”
What she meant was plain. Bryvondrin, situated in one of the tremendous loops of the Great River, the enormous central waterway of Vallia, was an imperial province.
“True. But what concerns me is that the enemy have got over the Great River. We regarded that as a first-class natural barrier. And, my heart, it is only seventy dwaburs away from Vondium.”
“Too close for comfort.”
“But that does not mean you will fly with me-”
“You would prevent me?”
I sighed.
“I would if I thought it would do any good. You know how I joy to have you with me — but if there, rather, as there is to be fighting-”
“Fighting!”
I felt suitably chastened. Truly, Delia of Delphond has served in her quota of battles, to my own dread despair.
Her handmaidens, Floria and Rosala came in all chattering and laughing, rosy, gorgeous girls. They brought stands of clothing over which, I felt sure, they would all giggle and try against themselves and spend hours deciding exactly what to wear.
Aghast, I said: “You are not bringing them?”
“Are you taking Emder?”