Seer King - The Seer King Part 24

Tenedos looked at me in surprise, then nodded agreement.

'To Captain Mellet." We drained our gla.s.ses.

"Thank you, Seer. I think it is time I sleep." "As you wish, my friend. For me, sleep may require some a.s.sistance." He picked up the decanter. "I shall see you in the morning."

But in spite of my words, the world was gray outside before I was able to sleep.

Later that day, Seer Tenedos and I were called to the Rule of Ten's chamber. I expected to be disciplined for my outburst, and resolved to take whatever punishment those fools had come up with stoically.

There were only two of the Rule of Ten in the chamber: Farel, one of Barthou's contingent, and Scopas. He sat in Bar- thou's seat.

"Legate Damastesk Cimabue," he began, "it is the decision of the Rule of Ten that you have served us well.

"In recognition of this, we have ordered you promoted to captain of the Lower Half, this promotion to become effective immediately."

I was d.a.m.ned if I would give either of them the satisfaction of gaping, and managed to keep my face still. My outburst had been ignored, and instead my sash of office would now carry a single black band, a promotion I would not have expected in peacetime for ten years, and that after only the most meritorious service.

"We also think that your standards are worthy of note, and therefore are rea.s.signing you from the Frontiers to our capital. You are hereby given a new posting to Numantia's proudest formation, the Golden Helms of Nicias." f.u.c.k!

"There is another reason we made this decision," Scopas went on. "We may wish to hear more details of your harrowing experience in the Border States when the Border Conference a.s.sembles, and wish you to remain close at hand."

He fell silent. I knew what I was supposed to do, but hated doing it. But a soldier must accept the harsh as readily as the soft, and so I came to attention, clapped my chest in salute, wheeled, and marched out, followed by Yonge and Karjan.

KI started for my quarters, feeling, as one of my lycee instructors would have put it, s.h.i.t and sugar, but mostly s.h.i.t. But the guard stopped me, and said I was to wait for Resident-General Tenedos.

It was about half an hour later when the seer emerged, a tight smile on his face.

"We have great reason to thank the Rule of Ten," he said in a clear voice. "They have done us a boon, and we are in their debt"

When he and I were alone in his rooms, and his Square of Silence spell in place, he started to explain, but saw my expression first.

"Will it be that bad?" he asked.

I started to find some polite military lie, then decided to tell the truth.

"It won't be the best, sir. All I'll be doing is polishing bra.s.s, riding up and down, and holding the door open for fat-a.s.s diplomats, begging your pardon, sir. It'll be a year, maybe more, before I'll be able to put in to transfer to some unit where there's likely to be some action. h.e.l.ls, I don't even know if the Lancers will be willing to take me back."

"Legate," Tenedos said, "I was not speaking for unseen ears when I said we had been granted a boon.

I'm very glad you're being stationed here in Nicias, for purely selfish reasons.

"I'll make a bet with you. Within a year... no, two at the outside, I'll have need of your service, and not to open any doors for me, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Time will answer that question," he said. "I shall not, because I can't tell how the future shall twist. But I know this course cannot run true much longer."

At the moment I had little patience for his theories about how the days of Numantia's rulers were numbered, but I said nothing. Then my natural curiosity took me.

"What reward did you receive, sir? I hope one more satisfactory than mine."

"Most definitely. Scopas praised me to the heavens, then said I could either remain in government service or return to civilian life. If I chose the former, he had a list of some eight posts I could pick from.

"I scanned them quickly, and found them to be just as I'd expected-places where I would be absent from the public eye, and unhappy enough to resign in a short time.

"So I picked the worst of all-in their minds.

"Congratulate me, Legate. I am now the head of the Military Sorcery Department for the Lycee of Command."

That academy was intended to train hand-picked dominas for the highest rank in the army. An officer chosen for that school was guaranteed he'd see general rank before retiring unless he committed some unimaginable error.

"Now," he went on, "I knew full well before you told me just how low an opinion the army has of magic, which we've discussed. So now, in the bowels of the beast, I'm expected to be digested and shat out into the darkness, and my radical theories heard no more.

"But this shall be where I prove my ideals. Prove them and find the disciples I'll need. If I cannot, well then, Saionji has picked a weak vessel for her message. But I doubt that.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, indeed. The Rule of Ten will bitterly rue this day."

I was glad one of us was content. As for me, in spite of Tenedos's rea.s.surances, I was trapped in Nicias.

FIFTEEN.

The City of LightsI wasted no more time in the palace, but swiftly packed my gear and prepared to move to the barracks of the Golden Helms. Tenedos said he'd see that Yonge fell into as little mischief as possible, and took him into his employ, "always needing," Tenedos said, "the duties of a good serviceable murderer in these unsettled times.

"I hope," he went on, "the next time we serve together it shall be in happier times and circ.u.mstances.

a.s.suming you do wish that to happen."

I thought about it for a moment, then grinned. I'd chosen a life of adventure, and certainly being around the seer had granted that. I was still sound in limb, and had learned an infinite amount in the year or so we'd been together.

"Seer," I said formally, "you have but to call. I'll follow your orders again."

And so I swore my first oath of fealty to Laish Tenedos. It was the least ceremonious of them all, but the most important, remembering our family motto: We Hold True.

I bade Tenedos farewell, and promised to look him up at the lycee as soon as I settled into my new post.

I asked Lancer Karjan if he wished to remain my servant,

which I knew would be permitted, or return to the Lancers. He thought hard, then grunted and said, "I'll see this un through. F'r a while at least. Sir."

We were offered a carriage, but didn't need it, tying what little gear we had behind to Lucan's and Rabbit's saddles. Rabbit by now was used to riders other than myself, so he snorted only once when Karjan climbed into the saddle, and we set off to join the Golden Helms.

The Rule of Ten may have been complacent, but it did not show from the way they had positioned the military about Nicias. The army's main elements were just to the north of the Palace of the Rule of Ten, as were two other regimental headquarters, guarding their masters from a bare five minutes' distance. I wondered how much real trust the Rule of Ten had in their own people.

A branch of the River Latane was about half a mile to our west as it curved through the city, and there was one of Nicias's huge parks, named Hyder Park, between us and the lace.

Even though it was still winter, the weather was quite pleasant, as it generally is in Nicias, the farthest north and closest to the equator of all Numantia's cities, so our ride was quite pleasant. We admired the park's bridle paths, gazebos, open-air taverns, and swan-decorated lakes. I thought it most curious that all the people I saw were well dressed and comfortable looking, a far cry from most of the city's populace. I wondered if the general populace was kept out by order, or if it was a matter of custom as was so much in this ancient city.

The Golden Helms' brick barracks sprawled among rolling lawns, graveled parade grounds, and manicured rol fields. Even though I knew I would hate this a.s.signment, a half-smile touched my lips as we rode under the arching entrance to the cantonment, a smile of familiarity. Here a punishment squad under the snarling guidance of a lance-major spaded fertilizer around trees with their trunks uniformly painted white for three feet above the ground; there another warrant bawled*orders at the awkward squad riding back and forth on a parade ground; an anxious officer hurried down one of the twisting stone paths, intent on a private errand and barely noticing the salute of a pa.s.sing lance.

Familiar... but not really, for I realized at this time of day, early afternoon, the area should be filled with soldiers drilling, at sport, being lectured to, or practicing their tactics.

We asked our way to the regiment's headquarters, and I reported to the adjutant, a captain of the Upper Half named Lardier, and inquired when it would be convenient for me to present myself to the unit's domina.

"Perhaps tomorrow." The adjutant yawned. "Domina Lehar may have returned from his estate. Or perhaps not. Certainly he'll be back by the Twenty-Sixth Day, for there's an important parade, in honor of the Prince of Hermona.s.sa, then.

"But don't worry, Captain a Cimabue. He's aware of you. We've all heard of your coming.

"By the way. Congratulations on your promotion. I'msure you deserve it, and hope that a combat veteran such as yourself encounters no difficulties with the customs of the Golden Helms."

He turned and looked at a chart. "Mm. Yes. I think I'll put you in charge of B Troop. They call themselves the Silver Centaurs. Legate Nexo was in temporary command of the troop, but you have rank on him. Perhaps he'd be willing to serve on under you, although I doubt it."

I'd known this would happen, even in a line regiment. My rapid promotion over who knows how many thousand young legates would rouse resentment not only in the hearts of those I overleaped, but from my superiors as well. I would have to soldier well to find approval in their eyes.

"I'll have a word with the legate," I said. "Who is my troop guide?"

"At the moment... well, you don't have one. He bought himself out of the army a month or so ago, and Domina Lehar hasn't gotten around to promoting one yet. See what you think of your men, and offer some suggestions, there's a good man."

I saluted, and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Captain. Are those your horses outside? I thought so. Well, you can certainly keep them for off-duty mounts. But all the men of B Troop ride blacks. I'll notify the remount officer you'll be needing a new charger. You can select one at your leisure." I withdrew, somewhat shaken at my more-than-casual welcome, and went to my troop area.

Each troop had a separate building, with the regimental headquarters at the center of the cl.u.s.ter, and behind that the necessary shops for the unit's support. When I arrived the barracks were nearly deserted, and the only warrant in the orderly room was a junior lance-major. He sprang to attention, and I noted that his uniform was immaculate, as was everything else I'd seen.

I told him who I was, and asked where Legate Nexo was.

He said in the city, visiting friends.

I made no comment, but thought this was the most social unit I'd ever seen. Where were the men of my troop? A few on detail, some in the stables, but most of them, since B Troop was standby troop this week, on pa.s.s in Nicias.

"Standby, eh? What are we on standby for?"

"Well, sir, in the event of any emergency."

"How would they be summoned, if they're all farting about in taverns?"

The lance-major looked perplexed. "Well, sir, there's never been an occasion like that in the six years I've been with the regiment. But I suppose we'd have to wait until they reported back. Maybe send messengers to the taverns the troop usually drinks in."

I began to growl an opinion, but caught myself in time. There is no bigger military fool than the one who joins a new formation and instantly knows what must be changed. I politely thanked the lance-major, and had him show me to my quarters.

As a troop commander and captain, I'd expected a room to myself, but I was quite pleased with how large it was, including not only a bedroom and separate office, but also a bath-

room and small chamber for Karjan. I ordered Karjan to take Lucan and Rabbit to the stables. He saluted, started to leave, then hesitated.

"What's the problem, Lance? You may speak freely." "Beggin' th' leg-captain's pardon, sir, but what theh.e.l.ls kind of army have we went an' joined?"

It was a good question, and became a better one in the next several days. First came Legate Nexo, a rather effete young man who affected a lisp. No, he'd rather not remain with B Troop, but wished to transfer where he'd be, er, among friends of his own sort. I could probably have put him in hack-sentenced to quarters-for a week for insolence. But I would rather have taken him back of the barracks, stripped off my sash, and invited him to discuss the matter in a more direct manner. But I knew an officer of his ilk would never, ever stoop to striking someone with his bare hands, and would have immediately reported me.

As for the men I had under my charge: On the surface, it appeared I was in command of a unit an officer dreams of. I was only five men short of a full troop's strength, which is always a miracle. Almost all of my men had at least a year's service, and about half of them were career soldiers. They were all good-sized, the smallest being only five inches short of six feet, and a few even towered over me. They were in the best of health-no one could complain about the quality of our rations, nor the manner in which they were prepared and served.

Our horses were groomed twice a day, well exercised, and fed properly. The harness was always freshly soaped and polished, and the brightwork shone like a mirror.

The men's turnout was equally spectacular. I ordered a series of inspections, and the biggest offense I could find was a man who hadn't completely cleaned the bianco off the inside of his helm, where the strap was riveted. I did not chastise him. Even the soles of their boots were blackened before they fell out for parade.

They maneuvered perfectly, and every parade-ground evo-

lution was done precisely, from "Squad... a.s.semble" to "Pa.s.s in Review." They could raise a cheer and charge past dignitaries without their line wavering more than a foot.

They could ... enough!

They were the shiniest group of soldiers I've ever had the misfortune to command. Even now, all these years later, I find it impossible to refer to them as "mine," or "we," but only "they." If, Irisu forbid, they had ever been forced to fight a single squad of my sometimes-scruffy, sometimes-underfed, mostly undersized Lancers, the skirmish wouldn't have been remembered by the men of the Seventeenth.

These "Silver Centaurs" knew nothing of how to fight with their weapons, although they did wonderfully pretty pirouettes when they paraded through the streets of Nicias. Sabers were to be presented, lances were to hang pennons on, and daggers were for ornament.

They stood guard in front of the government buildings in Nicias, but if a mob had charged, they would have screeched and run in dismay, not having the slightest idea of what to do next As far as tactics, if I'd ordered them to dismount and advance with bare saber using all cover, I might have been speaking Kaiti.

Camouflage, scouting, skirmishes, courier service, flank guard-all the real duties of a cavalryman in war were unknown. The only regimental charge they could manage was across a flat, well-groomed parade field for the approval of diplomats and cheering citizens on holiday.

There was nothing intrinsically wrong with these men. Almost all soldiers are the same; it is their leaders who make the difference. These same men, well and hard trained, could have been as good or better than any Lancers.

But the Golden Helms were as rotten as the Rule of Ten. Domina Lehar was more interested in the mansions and rice fields he owned a day and a half s journey beyond Nicias to the west, in the delta. The rest of the officers were the same sort of popinjays, fools, and idle gentlemen I'd seen at the lycee, of various ages, ranks, and states of disrepair, and in the Helms there was no one to bring them back to reality.

*I've heard that in some puffed-chest regiments like the Helms it's forbidden to discuss business, that is soldiering, in the mess. There was no such ban with the Helms, nor was it necessary. If any of us had talked about our day's duties, we would have sounded like housewives discussing which brand of polish did the best job on our silver, or else horsedealers nattering on about what someone's mount might do in the furlong.

The sole exception was a rather disheveled legate three years older than I, who seemed completely uninterested in the latest gossip or horse-breeding, did not drink, did not gamble, and seemed to have little interest in women. Instead he buried himself in history, mostly military, and in the few broadsheets specializing in the military. He'd been eagerly and mistakenly drafted by the Helms because he was the top graduate at his lycee. They didn't find out until he reported that he'd achieved the position completely on ability in the field or cla.s.sroom, with never a pin's notice mentioned about his appearance or failure to suck up to his superiors.

His name was Mercia Petre. Yes,that Petre, for the most part no different as a legate than when he held a tribune's baton not very long afterward.

I can't say we became friends-with one exception, I doubt if Petre ever had what conventional people call a friend. But I spent long nights in the shambles he called quarters, sipping tea, studying old battles, re-laying them out so the outcome might be different, and reading all we could find on the Border States, on Kallio, and even Maisir. Part of me may have been bored cross-eyed by the dryness of the books, but this was a necessary part of my trade. I was never bored by Petre's company, although others were, since he had but one interest, and that was serving the war G.o.d Isa.

He was the only pleasure I found in that cantonment during those long, drear months with the Helms.

This situation is a favorite in the romances. It's a great tale, of a staid, pigheaded formation, and how a brave, stubborn young officer stands true for what he knows to be right, and in spite of hostility hammers his own small part of the unit into fighting order, and then is vindicated when war comes and they all ride out and do something terribly heroic.