He pointed. "Blood. Blood. Blood. There's no end to the blood when the affairs of nations are managed by fools. There're a hundred tales told about the Great Sword, and the Sword-bearer, and their roles in the Brothers' War. Most are but shadows of fact. Listen while I tell the true story of Tureck Aarant."
He closed his eyes and blanked his mind and yielded his mouth to his predecessor. Out poured words and warnings formulated by Tureck Aarant himself. "Then, as today, men were not the masters of their destinies. Only a handful knew the truth. They weren't allowed to tell it. But today I can.
The eye of Suchara has wandered for the moment.
"The Immortal Twins, and all the great names of the Brothers' War, weren't fighting for their beliefs or ambitions. They were toys. They were pawns."
Theis Rogala went narrow-eyed and pale. Gathrid knew things he should not. He related details of Aarant's life that only Tureck and his esquire could have known. Somehow, Suchara had erred.
Something strange had happened.
The youth paused. He surveyed his audience. He saw puzzled looks, hostile looks, friendly looks.
Hardly a face bore the stamp of disbelief. He suspected the Brothers had access to undoctored accounts of the war, where a glimmer of the truth would have shown through.
To a man the delegates were attentive.
"I am the Swordbearer," he thundered, smiting the rostrum with a fist. His audience jumped. "I am the Chosen! I am the Eater of Souls and Discoverer of Secrets. I have one of the latter to share.
It belonged to Brother Sagis Gruhala of the Blue, whose true allegiance was Red, and whose doom overtook him in Torun.
"Brother Gruhala was a lucky man. The agents of the Imperium, of the Blue, and of the Red, all sought him. He eluded them all and found himself a place in Torun's underworld. Then chance or a jest of the Great Old Ones caused our paths to cross."
Gathrid studied Mulenex while he related details of the murder of Honsa Eldracher and the betrayal of Katich.
"And that, Brethren, is Truth. Tally these details against the facts you know. Then try to deny it."
The long silence died. The mood became dangerous. Blues charged onto the floor. Mulenex looked round like a trapped rat seeking an avenue of escape. The color fled his gross face.
Here and there, fists flew.
A grim, pale Count Cuneo joined Gathrid. "Well done, lad," he said. "But a count too late. They finished the balloting before we arrived. He was elected."
"They can't reverse themselves?"
"Only by hastening his elevation to a higher plane." The Count wheeled, waved. A trumpeter winded his instrument till order was restored. Hildreth assumed the rostrum.
"Gentlemen, an announcement of import. Let me get it in before the brawling begins. I've just received a communique from the Imperial Legate at Torun." He waved a letter. "It says the Mindak Ahlert, having concluded an Alliance with Bochantin, has brought his army through the Gastreich Pass in the Lowenguth Mountains. He's sweeping south out of Bochantin. Kimach of Bilgoraj has disappeared in mysterious circumstances. He didn't establish a regency or inform anyone of his whereabouts. There's no one in charge there. The Bilgoraji army is collapsing. The Alliance garrisons in the Beklavac narrows are cut off. Because you're here, there's no wizardry to neutralize Ahlert's Power. The Legate says Bilgoraj is done. His letter is eight days old."
The Brothers seemed bewildered. A few expressed outright disbelief.
Gathrid watched Mulenex. The Magister's response was interesting. The man became so outraged he was inarticulate. He looked ready for a fit of apoplexy.
Hildreth bellowed into the uproar. "Gentlemen! Our survival is at stake. Brotherhood and Imperium alike. It's time to set aside everything but desperation."
They let him speak, though the confusion did not subside. Not a man sat quietly. The animosity between Red and Blue became palpable.
Hildreth shouted, "Till now Bilgoraj has been a stone wall keeping the wolves out of our sheep cot. Now that barricade is gone. The predator is upon us. Only Malm-berget can field a significant army.
"But! Brethren, but! Ahlert is weak. He spent his winter campaigning. He had a bitter time downing Nieroda's rebels. He may not be strong enough to follow up this triumph.
"Nevertheless, he'll try. He's seen the consequences of indecision. He may swing to the opposite extreme. If he does so, we can expect him at the gates of the Maur-ath within the month. If he comes, Malmberget won't have time to intercept him-assuming they're inclined to try.
"If Sartain goes, the west goes. Anderle isn't a great power these days, but it has emotional import. Ahlert knows that as well as anyone.
"The Swordbearer has been in the east. I haven't had time to ask about Ahlert's strengths and weaknesses. While I'm talking with him, I suggest you put aside your differences and turn your wits to helping Sartain survive. Your lives are on the line too. You'll be the first put to the sword.
"Let's save the squabbling till we can afford it."
Hildreth stepped down. He handed the Legate's message to Gerdes Mulenex. "Give it some honest thought, Gerdes." He turned to Gathrid. "Come with me." He strode to the exit stair.
Chapter Sixteen
The Maurath
"The man has his occasional flash of brilliance," Ye-don Hildreth observed. He, Gathrid and Rogala were watching Ahlert's approach from the Maurath's roof. "But he's bet everything on one pass of the dice."
Even with the addition of western renegades and his allies from Bochantin, Ahlert had fewer troops than he had brought across the Karato.
"You should always hold something back," Hildreth said. "You've got to keep a surprise or two tucked away. And you should, by damn, have an exit in case things go sour."
Gathrid peered across the countryside. The Mindak's western friends were having a good time plundering the farm villages.
Count Cuneo continued to think aloud. "He can't starve us out. He'd have to close the lanes to the sea to do that. I don't see how he can take the Maurath and cross the Causeway, either. He's in a spot. He has to take Sartain before Malmberget arrives. If he doesn't, he's dead."
"He's got a plan," Rogala said.
"Of course he does. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. I'm just trying to figure out what the hell it is. Wish I'd beaten him to Avenevoli."
As soon as he had convinced himself that Ahlert was coming, Hildreth had taken the Guards east in hopes of repeating his famed victory. The Mindak, probably through the agency of Magnolo Belfiglio, had anticipated him. His cavalry had taken the ferries and the heights overlooking them. The Count had retired without offering battle.
"I doubt he's found anything to replace Nieroda and the Toal," Gathrid said. "And he knows the Sword is here. He's trying to bluff us. Or his dreams of conquest have driven him completely mad."
Rogala's permanent companion, Gacioch, chuckled wickedly. He refused to reveal what he found amusing. When the dwarf threatened to put chains through his ears and wear him as a necklace, he did remark, "The caverns of Ansorge contain more evils than you ever thought, Theis."
Gathrid could not fathom the remark. Rogala seemed aggravated by it.
Magnolo Belfiglio, by informing his master of Count Cuneo's thoughts, would allow Ahlert a tactical advantage, Gathrid thought. But that would not reduce the Maurath and its satellite subfortresses.
They were too formidable for the host the Mindak had brought.
"He's not wasting time," Rogala remarked.
It was early. Ahlert had spent the night camped beyond the promontory from which Gathrid had first seen Sartain. His forces were dividing into units facing the outer line of fortresses. Some of them would have to be reduced before the Maurath could be approached. Their war engines had punishing, overlapping fields of fire.