The last of the barges slid noiselessly past. Tegestu saw the sweeps of Amasta’s galley suddenly flash sunlight as they rose in unison, then dipped water. The galley surged forward, light on the water, a bone growing in its teeth.
Tegestu heard the sound of a horse behind him and turned: it was Cascan, arriving late to Amasta’s reception. Cascan dismounted from his sweating horse and bowed, then came forward, brushing dust from his surcoat. “Drandor Tegestu, I beg a word apart,” he said, bowing again. Tegestu glanced at Amasta’s galley and saw he had the time.
“Very well,” he said. “I hope this will be brief.”
“As brief as I can make it, drandor.”
Tegestu signaled his umbrella-bearer to remain in place and then walked quickly away from the welcoming party, hearing the rattle of his guards’ armor as they deployed themselves carefully out of earshot, yet between Tegestu and any possible attack.
“There is a new rumor in the camp,” Cascan said. “Spread by Tastis’ agents, no doubt — he has enough of them.”
“Aye,” Tegestu said. It was impossible to keep Tastis’ people out, spies who attached themselves to mercenary bands, or who lived among the various unofficial military brothels and commissaries that sold their wares to the soldiers, or who posed as traders coming up and river to buy or sell — Necias had tried to keep all unlicensed persons away, but his own official commissaries were unable to keep the soldiers fully fed and happy, and infiltrations happened. It was inevitable.
“The rumor states that, in your private conference with the commander of the West Rallandas garrison, you were offered command of the Neda-Calacas, to hold as a Brodaini city. And that you refused.”
Tegestu felt his heart thunder at the news, but he recovered swiftly from his surprise. He looked carefully into Cascan’s impassive face, glaring at him until Cascan’s eyes fell, and when he spoke he spoke harshly. “Why do you ask me this, ban-demmin Cascan?” he demanded. “To quell the rumor, or for your own information?”
“Beg pardon if I have offended, bro-demmin Tegestu,” Cascan said, bowing. “I wished only to know how to reply to this rumor.”
“Say that it is false.”
“Aye, bro-demmin. It is false.” Cascan straightened, licking his lips. “It is a difficult rumor to quell, bro-demmin.” he said. “It speaks to the secret wishes of so many.”
“Those who possess such wishes are fools!” Tegestu snapped. “Such wishes could never be realized,” he growled. “They would lead to the destruction of all our people. Don’t they realize we have dependents in every Elva city? Thousands of hostages to our good behavior?”
Cascan hesitated for a moment, then bowed. “Aye, bro-demmin,” he said. “Praise to your wisdom.”
“Is that all, ban-demmin?” Tegestu asked.
“Aye, bro-demmin.”
“Very well.” He turned on his heel and led Cascan back to the group gathered on the canal, awaiting Amasta’s galley. The rumor speaks to the secret wishes of so many, Cascan had said. True enough, he thought regretfully, and some wishes not so secret. If only it were possible.
Tastis must have tired of waiting for his reply, he thought. He meant to force the issue and so spread the rumor, hoping Tegestu’s own people would force him to act. That was why Tegestu had reacted so coldly, so angrily, hoping to squash any conspiracies before they began. For the good of discipline he had to enforce absolute obedience to the Elva, and do it now.
He would find it easier, however, if his heart were in it.
No matter. His heart, like the rest of him, must obey.
He returned to the shadow of his umbrella and awaited the galley.
*
The following night the welldrani of Arrandal played formal host to Tanta of Prypas, who proved to be a middle-aged, well-fleshed man, balding and powerfully built. “He was famous in his youth for his use of the war axe,” Amasta had told Tegestu. “It is said he could wield it so dexterously that he could almost fence with it.” As for his character, Amasta remembered him as a plain-spoken soldier, intelligent but scarcely a reservoir of great cunning. He was a reliable subordinate: that was why he was here, commanding on behalf of the drandor of Kamliss-Sanda-sa-Prypas, who was too elderly to take the field himself.
“We are honored, bro-demmin Tanta,” Tegestu said, bowing as Tanta and his party approached, “to have as our guest a welldrani of such distinction, and of such peerless fame with the war axe. We would be honored if you would favor us soon by inspecting our forces.”
Tanta flushed with pleasure as he returned the bow, clattering in his heavy formal armor, steel breast- and backplate, bracers and greaves, plumed helmet tilted back on his head. In return he praised the cunning, sagacity, and ferocity of his hosts. The dinner thereby started off on the proper note, and Tanta was offered the place of honor at the head of the table. He declined, of course; but his hosts insisted and eventually, as manners dictated, he accepted. Two Classani stood behind him, keeping his glass and plate filled, while a third held his helmet.
The dinner was out of doors, partly because no Brodaini tent was capable of holding such a gathering, but also because security was so much better out of doors, on a flat drill ground well-lit by torches, where no one could approach within two hundred yards without being seen by the cathruni. Conversation was light and inconsequential, consisting mainly of formal greetings sent from one welldran to another, or talk about relations: Tosta, through his mother, was cousin in some obscure way to Grendis. It wasn’t until the meal was at an end that its real business began.
“Bro-demmin Tegestu,” Tanta said, draining his cup. “I find myself needing to stretch after such a meal. I would be honored if you would accompany me for a short walk.”
“The honor is mine, bro-demmin,” Tegestu said, bowing. Tanta bowed to each of the welldrani in turn, thanking them, and then signaled to a Classanu for a torch as he rose. Tegestu strained upward, needing the assistance of Thesau’s arm before he could rise, pain shooting through his thighs and hips. He breathed his thanks to Thesau, feeling sudden sweat popping out on his forehead, and wished the occasion hadn’t demanded the formal steel armor rather than the light chain-and-leather he wore in the summer.
“Perhaps it would please you to walk this way, bro-demmin Tanta,” he said as Thesau carefully coiled his braids atop his head and fixed his helmet in place, its visor raised. “The sight of Second Moon rising above that river may prove soothing.” It was, of course, the path his cathruni had been guarding since noon, making certain no assassin could have hidden himself somewhere along its length.
“A profoundly stirring sight,” Tanta said politely, his Classanu setting his helmet back on his head as he took the torch from another servant. “I would find it inspiring, I’m sure.”
The torch in one hand, Tanta took Tegestu’s arm with the other and walked with him into the night. They walked in silence until they reached the broad, silver-sheened, muttering river; they stood on a small bluff while Second Moon, scarcely brighter than a star, rose over the distant, dark horizon. Tanta broke the silence with a sigh.
“A lovely sight, bro-demmin,” he said. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
“It is my honor, bro-demmin.”
“It reminds me of your victory poem, the one you wrote after the fight on the East Rallandas. Starlight and steel, like Second Moon on the river. And a lament for the brave dead. I have no such way with poetry.”
“I am pleased the poem gave you pleasure,” Tegestu said.
“The battle gave me more,” Tanta said. “Aiau, what a victory! Tastis will be desperate for friends. He’s where we need him, ’twixt hammer and anvil.” He gave a feral grin. “Where we need him,” he repeated, and took a scroll from his pouch.