“Yes,” Caliphestros says to the three Bane, nodding. “Now you begin to see it …”
“What ‘new powers’ do they speak of, Sixt?” Isadora says, moving with Dagobert to her husband’s side.
But affairs at hand command Arnem’s attention: “Allow me to say that, on the contrary, it is you, Caliphestros, who do not begin to see,” the yantek calls to the sage. “If this proclamation is true — and it bears the royal seal — then you shall be a lord and an advisor again.”
“I?” Caliphestros laughs. “To whom? To a king whom I knew to be perverse from boyhood, and whom I watched become still more treacherous than ever Baster-kin was as he grew? Or perhaps to his sister, who will wish my throat cut at the earliest opportunity, to rid herself of certain—inconvenient memories? Or is it to the Grand Layzin that you will recommend me, when he himself pronounced me a sorcerer, a heretic, and a criminal deserving of torture and death?”
“No, Lord Caliphestros,” Arnem replies. “You shall become an advisor to me.” The commander glances about at the collected crowd of soldiers, Bane, and residents of the Fifth District. “You have all heard the words that Niksar has proclaimed?” To their general assent, he turns to his wife and son, and summarizes the principal points it contains: “The Merchants’ Council is to be abolished, and the Merchants’ Hall destroyed. Rendulic Baster-kin is declared an enemy of the kingdom, to be arrested and suffer whatever punishment the God-King desires. The Yantek of the Army of Broken—”
“You, Father,” Dagobert says.
“It would seem so,” Arnem replies, not without some reluctance. “The Yantek of the Broken Army will become the chief secular official and power in the kingdom.”
“Father!” Dagobert declares, his recent battle seeming somehow and wholly vindicated.
“The ‘secret children’ of Rendulic Baster-kin—” And to the confusion of most of his assembled audience at this statement, Arnem raises a hand. “I know of this reference, so be calm, all of you. It is enough to say that they are alive, and that their ‘cursèd nature’ is declared an innocent inheritance, passed down by the traitor Baster-kin. They are decreed mere unfortunates, to be placed under the healing care of Lady Arnem.” He glances for a moment at his wife. “The Kastelgerd Baster-kin shall, for the time their healing takes, be returned to the supervision of its seneschal, Radelfer. Other members of the Baster-kin family may serve the God-King in their offices in other parts of the kingdom, unless and until they reveal similarly treasonous intentions as the former chief of their clan. Finally, one khotor of the Broken army, rather than the now-finished Merchant Lord’s Guard, shall see to peace within the walls of the city, in cooperation with the household guard that Radelfer has informally assembled in the Kastelgerd Baster-kin.” Rolling the parchment and handing it back to Niksar, Arnem continues, “And you, wife, are absolved of all wrongdoing. As is Visimar. The Fifth District is to be rebuilt, not destroyed. That siege, along with the attempt upon the life of the God-King blamed upon the Bane, were parts of Baster-kin’s pernicious plan to gain near-absolute power, and did not originate with his superiors or with those in Davon Wood. There are more but lesser details, all in the same spirit. And I remind you, Caliphestros, it bears the God-King’s seal.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Caliphestros finally answers, “Sentek — Yantek, whatever rank you now accept: have you seen the proclamation that was posted throughout the city before our entry? It also bears the royal seal.”
Seeing that Arnem has not, Niksar takes a sheet of parchment — this one coated with some kind of glue or lacquer — from a nearby soldier. “One of the scouts cut this from a wall in the Third District, Yantek — they have been posted throughout the city.”
Arnem quickly reads the thing, then passes it to his wife. “And what of it? It simply states the same information, in briefer form.”
“Sixt …,” Isadora says, her voice suddenly worried.
“Your wife sees the truth now as clearly as she did when she studied with the wisest woman in Broken,” Caliphestros declares, somewhat mollified. “My lady,” he goes on, putting a hand to his chest and bowing as much as he can from his place astride Stasi’s neck and shoulders. “Though I did not myself know you, then, I knew your mistress — a fact she doubtless withheld from you. She even suggested that you become one of my acolytes — an offer I refused, for your own safety. It required no great insight to see that you were destined for an important place, and should not risk your life in my service. The fate of Visimar — though he is, thankfully, with us today — and the even worse ends met by the others who followed me will attest to the wisdom of that decision.”
“My lord,” Isadora answers, with no little surprise and gratitude. “Praise from you is honor indeed — my mistress ever said so.” She turns to her husband. “And for this reason, Sixt, I must, as your wife, echo his concerns. This proclamation, issued before the conflict was decided, favors neither you nor Baster-kin. It is, indeed, so worded as to have made the citizenry believe that whichever side emerged triumphant, the God-King and the Grand Layzin had divined and approved the outcome.”
Reviewing the pronouncement, Arnem tilts his head in confusion. “That is one interpretation, surely. But it is the most cynical, to say nothing of the most sinister …”
“Cynical?” Heldo-Bah declares. “Sinister? Yantek Arnem, we, too have seen this decree, and know that your wife speaks only good sense, by the bloody, piss-stained face of—”
“Heldo-Bah!” Keera is forced to order. “Do not worsen matters with your foul blasphemies — of any kind.”
“Blasphemies or no, Yantek Arnem,” Caliphestros says, “you reveal with the smallest statement that you give credence to all this royal … maneuvering.”
“A hard word, Caliphestros,” Arnem declares. “I may have doubts. But if this latest proclamation gives me the power to do the things I must, then this city and kingdom can be reformed. With your help, and that of Visimar, we shall find the source of the first pestilence—”
“From what I understand, your wife already understands the essential problem, and needs no advice from me,” Caliphestros replies. “The same can be said of the second ailment and Visimar’s diagnosis. Between the two of them, and backed by the authority that you yourself have been given, they can devise a pair of solutions. If permanent solutions truly do exist …”
“But we have need of your wisdom, my lord,” Arnem pleads. “I do not offend Visimar, I believe, when I say that yours is a mind without equal.”
“You offend me not in the least,” Visimar rushes to say.
“And you make a flattering plea, Arnem,” Heldo-Bah declares, throwing aside the piece of charred oak he had used to block the panthers’ path. “Save for one thing: with your wife and Visimar both here, you do not need my legless lord, as he says. While the Bane will require their own wise man somewhere in the Wood. And, although I am sure that this is not the main reason that Caliphestros wishes to go back, any arguments against his return — especially arguments made by you, who, of all people, has suddenly become the precious creature of that God-King who starves the poor and shits gold — are self-serving demands against which the two panthers, in particular, will prove deaf. So I would suggest that if you continue to fight their departure, you do so at your peril. Yantek.”