“Oh, yes, your Majesty,” Sterren assured him. “I’ve seen it myself, in Ethshar’s great... in Ethshar.” That was true enough. He had meant to say that he had seen wizards fly in the Arena, but he didn’t know the Semmat word. He had also seen his warlock-master fly. It was not a particularly rare or valuable talent.
“Good. Find a magician who can fly.”
Sterren nodded. He knew better than to argue, though he could see little military value in the ability to levitate.
“Yes, your Majesty. Then may I have a letter of credit against the treasury, to show that I-”
“No letter!” Phenvel snapped. “Do you think I’m a fool, to give you free run of my money like that? No, I’ll give you a pound of gold and a few jewels, I understand that wizards like jewels. That should be enough, I should think.”
The bottom dropped out of Sterren’s stomach, but he did not dare argue at this point, for fear the king would change his mind and cancel the whole project.
A pound of gold, though, would barely buy a single untraceable death spell back in Ethshar, let alone magic on a scale to be of real military value. Powerful wizards did not work as cheaply as the pitiful village witches and herbalists out here on the edge of the World. So much for borrowing against the entire royal treasury to hire a squad of hotshot magicians from the Wizards’ Quarter. He would be lucky to find one really good wizard at that price; more likely he would have to settle for a few failed apprentices.
“I do like the idea of getting a few new magicians around here,” Phenvel mused, “I really do. But no sorcerers, and no demonologists, not even a little one.”
Sterren nodded again. The king was repeating himself, but that was hardly unusual. Nobody had ever dared point out such little slips, so the king made them frequently.
He was trying to phrase a request to be excused, when Phenvel said, “You’ll need to have a guard along, of course, and I think Lady Kalira should accompany you. Does that suit you?”
“Very much, your Majesty,” Sterren lied. He had hardly dared to admit it even to himself, but he had naturally had the idea of taking this opportunity to simply vanish in the streets of Ethshar in the back of his mind right from the start. Guards would make that much more difficult, but perhaps no more difficult than buying the services of a competent magician for a pound of gold and a few nondescript gems.
It appeared he was still doomed.
At the very least, though, he would be able to revisit his homeland before he died. He had been fighting off homesickness for the last day or two, ever since the possibility of returning to Ethshar had begun to seem real.
“Good,” the king said. “You’re excused, then, and I wish you a safe journey.”
Sterren bowed and backed out of the audience chamber.
In the corridor outside he straightened up, brushed at his cut-down black tunic, and then stood, staring stupidly at the door, for a good three minutes.
What was he supposed to do now? Just turn and go? How was he to collect the gold and gems, or find Lady Kalira? Who was to chose the guards he would take with him?
Kings were not much on detail work, he supposed. It was up to him. Unless someone told him otherwise, he assumed that he would have to organize the expedition himself.
He glanced around. The only people in the antechamber with him were the two doorkeepers, and he knew better than to ask one of them to leave his post.
Sterren had no servants of his own and always felt uneasy ordering the castle servants about, since they always seemed to have plenty of work to do without running his errands, but he was the warlord, commander of the Semman army, and his soldiers never seemed to do anything at all unless he was there egging them on.
He headed for the barracks.
As usual, half a dozen soldiers were dicing in the corner. The barracks were otherwise empty.
“You men!” he called.
Two of them looked up, without much interest.
“Settle up, the game’s over. Right now.”
The two glanced at each other, and two more looked up, startled.
“Now!” Sterren bellowed.
Reluctantly, the game broke up, and the six men came sloppily to attention, facing him.
“All right, you, Kather, go find the Lady Kalira and tell her I must speak to her as soon as possible. Let her choose the time and place, but make plain that it’s very urgent, and then come back here immediately and tell me what she said.”
Kather stood silently, accepting this.
“Go!”
Startled, Kather nodded. “Yes, my lord,” he muttered, as he started off.
“You, Terrin,” Sterren said to the next. “Go find the Lord Treasurer and tell him that I need a pound of gold and a dozen of the finest gems in the treasury, no later than dinnertime tonight, by the king’s express order. Arrange a time and place for me to pick them up. If he needs to check with the king first, I have no objection, so long as he’s quick about it. If he doubts your authority, bring him back here to speak to me.”
Terrin, having learned from Kather’s experience, essayed a quick bow, said, “As you wish, my lord,” and departed.
Sterren looked over the remaining four. He knew them all slightly, but only slightly, and did not think much of any of them.
“Gror,” he said, choosing the best of the lot, “I need a party for a voyage to Ethshar, a peaceful expedition, recruiting aid for the coming war. Who would you suggest?”
“Uh...” Gror blinked. “My lord, I... I don’t know.”
“You could call for volunteers,” another soldier, Azdaram by name, suggested.
“I could,” Sterren agreed.
He considered the idea.
He almost immediately saw an obvious drawback and prepared to discard the whole notion.
Then he caught himself.
The problem with calling for volunteers was that he might well wind up with men only interested in a diversion from the tedious life of a Semman soldier. It was entirely possible that some of them would desert at the first opportunity...
He stopped his chain of thought at that point and backed up.
They might desert. The guard intended to keep him from deserting might themselves desert.
That might not be good for Semma, but it would, on the other hand, be a gift from the gods for him, personally. If his escort were to vanish he could easily lose himself in the streets of the city and leave Semma to fend for itself.
It probably wouldn’t do much worse without him than with him, really. He was hardly a great warlord, after all.
He tried to think what would happen if the guards did desert, and he, too, slipped away.
What would Lady Kalira do? What would the others, back here in Semma do, the king, the queen, the princesses, his officers and men, even Agor the theurgist?
Well, the officers and men would presumably go out, fight, and lose. Some would die, the rest surrender. Semma would probably be divided up between Ophkar and Ksinallion, and the royal family sent off into exile somewhere. Agor would almost certainly find employment elsewhere, without much difficulty.
That wasn’t so awful, was it? It seemed that a few soldiers were going to die anyway, no matter what happened, so he refused to worry about that. As for exiling the royal family, it was hard to imagine King Phenvel in exile, but on the other hand, it was hard to imagine him doing much of anything. He seemed born to be an incompetent monarch; the only way he could survive the way he was seemed to be if other people had no choice about putting up with him.
Princess Shirrin would find exile terribly romantic and exciting, Sterren was sure. Princess Lura would think it was fun. Princess Nissitha would be mortified. Queen Ashassa would take it calmly in stride.