The Warrior's Tale Part 4

We disembarked into the boats. In spite of what Cholla Yi had implied about my women's probable incompetence on the water, not a sound was made in the loading, not a weapon was lost, not a Guardswoman fell into the dark, heaving ocean. We moved off towards the harbour entrance. Indeed, these boats were perfect for what I intended. Instead of oars, each had two wheels on either side near amidships. Each wheel was fitted with paddles, like the fins of a sea turtle. The 'oarsmen', if that was the correct name for them, sat in the centre of the boat next to the wheels, working a circular crank that sent the wheels spinning and the boat slipping silently towards the sh.o.r.e, with nary an oar-splash or needed command from the man at the rudder. I could see, however, that manoeuvring these boats wasn't for simpletons, since all four 'oarsmen' must work in close unison, or else we'd have zigged across the ocean like crazed water-beedes.

As we moved towards our goal, I reconsidered my plan. Its greatest virtue, I believed, was its simplicity. Elaborate tactics seldom survive the first shower of arrows. I planned to have my Guardswomen climb the chain blocking Lycanth's harbour from the water all the way to the top of the cliff, where it was fastened to the castle. After we reached the top of the chain, we'd look for a window large enough to enter. Once inside, we were to move as rapidly and quietly as possible to the castle's main gates. General Jinnah would have a.s.sault battalions waiting just outside. When we swung the gates open, the main attack would be mounted.

It wasn't as impossible as it might seem - more than one great fortification has fallen to a handful of soldiers with steel in their hands and hearts. If we failed - as all were predicting - what of it? My women would leave their bodies inside the sea-castle. More then ten times their number had died just in that one hopeless attack we provided the diversion for earlier. And, from what Jinnah felt about the use of women in battle, wouldn't it please him to no longer have the 'cloven s.e.x', as I heard him call us, insisting on such annoyances as logic and forethought instead of mindless brawn and battle-planning worthy of a bull in must?

Now it was time to test the edge of the sword I'd hammered out, to see whether it cut clean or bent or shattered uselessly. There was also a second, very private goal - which was the one I'd asked Gamelan for help with, even though I hadn't fully explained exactly what I intended.

The harbour opened before us like some fabulous monster's gaping jaws. Then we were drawing close to the chain rising from just below the water's surface up to the sea-castle high above and there was no longer time for reflection. Training, muscles and, yes, familiarity took over.

My Scribe lifted an eyebrow as I said the last, thinking perhaps a basic part of the Guards' training was swarming up and down great chains, and wondering why he'd seen no such training devices on our parade-ground. Actually, there's little difference between climbing from chain link to chain link - a woman bracing herself, a second woman stepping on her to reach the next link, at which time she became the top rung in the ladder and so on - and what all Orissa has seen us do in holiday demonstrations of our athletic prowess, scrambling over obstacles at great speed. With the minor exceptions that now there were several thousand enemy soldiers above, and our 'obstacles' were big pieces of slimy, rusting iron, dripping seaweed, barnacles and other sea creatures that would no doubt be revolting in daylight. Polillo and other Guardswomen known for their strength were in charge of the manoeuvre and I became nothing more than one more climbing, and bracing, soldier.

Link by link, woman by woman, we went up the chain. Finally, Corais, Polillo, Ismet and I reached the last link, where it was fastened to a huge staple set in the sea-castle's vertical wall. There were four of us clinging to this final link - the others waiting below - and I had a momentary' image of us as tiny charms on some giantess's bracelet. I I shook my head. For some reason, perhaps the proximity of so much sorcery, my imagination was rioting like a drunken civilian's this night. shook my head. For some reason, perhaps the proximity of so much sorcery, my imagination was rioting like a drunken civilian's this night.

Three of us sent our eyes scanning the sheer, blank tower above and to the side, while Ismet kept a sharp watch - an arrow nocked on its string - on the battlement above in case a sentry should peer over.

Gamelan's spell was running through all our minds... 'Let the gift of the blade... Pa.s.s on to the maid... The eyes they shall see...' 'Let the gift of the blade... Pa.s.s on to the maid... The eyes they shall see...'

Our eyes saw past the ensorcellment around the tower. Here were arrow slits, there slots that were to illuminate dark stairs; then we saw windows that gaped open with nary a bar or shutter. The Archons, like many people with a single great strength, put too much trust in their main weapon of magic. Far above I saw half a dozen wide openings and guessed they marked the luxurious prison Amalric had been held in. But we wouldn't need to test further our climbing skills, because not twenty feet to the seaward side, and about fifteen above, was a portal nearly as wide.

Polillo chuckled low, as Corais unbuckled the pack on her back and took out the heavy grapnel and ropes. I knew what she was thinking -all this time, all this blood and now we find we can enter this castle with no more effort than if we were spending a lazy afternoon climbing one of the steeper faces of Mount Aephens in Orissa.

Polillo cast the grapnel easily and two of its p.r.o.ngs hooked on the windowsill. She tugged to make certain the padded hooks were secure, then busied herself with the only complicated part of the task - making sure the ropes were unsnarled. This grapnel was designed for use in a major a.s.sault. Before the incantation was laid, it looked as if the hook carried a rope ladder instead of a single knotted line. When the various ropes were straight, Polillo leaned back until they were taut. She slid the bitter end around one of the chain's links, then whispered - and all of us knew the words, having been given them in our command training. Years ago, before Amalric and Janos Greycloak forced Orissa's Evocators to loosen their stranglehold on the most minor spell, an Evocator would have been teetering up here, re-evoking the grapnel's built-in spell. But that was no longer the policy and so any high-ranking sergeant or any officer of the army, once blessed by an Evocator, could do as Polillo was doing: 'My words are those of another, but he has blessed my cause. Make hard, make strong, make straight, hold firm. Hold fast, like steel, like hook, for need...' 'My words are those of another, but he has blessed my cause. Make hard, make strong, make straight, hold firm. Hold fast, like steel, like hook, for need...'

The ropes obediently became rigid. Now we had a solid bridge between us and the window, a bridge wide enough for a beldame to stumble across. Polillo looked back, sneered and whispered: 'I could walk this on my hands.'

Before either of my legates could move I slipped past Polillo, sword ready, onto that bridge. I moved fast, not wanting to give an enemy, if there was one waiting, any more time than I must. I went through the window like a leaping cat, landing on solid stone, going away from the window to the interior dimness, then I crouched. I was in a bare chamber. There was a door at the far side. It was unbolted. By the time I had it opened, revealing a narrow landing and stairs, my Guardswomen were pouring into the chamber. Without commands, not even hand-signals, we formed into attack teams and went out.

It was near pitch-black and gloom and fear must have hung close about. But none of us felt dread, all of us had the hard taste of blood in our mouths and the shrilling joy that finally, by Maranonia, we were through! Just as our fathers had broken into this great castle in the first war against Lycanth, so too we'd proven ourselves worthy of their heritage. This time we would ensure there would never be a Third Lycanthian War.

We went down the winding steps towards the main floors of the castle like fluid death. We met Lycanthians once, twice, four times. Each time a sword glittered and a body sagged, surprised into doom before it could cry out. Perhaps they were soldiers, perhaps servitors. It didn't matter. We came into in a wide room, high-ceilinged and hung with tapestries. Fires still glowed on either side of the room. I thought it some sort of audience chamber. But now, in the hours past midnight, it was deserted. From the castle around came the normal sounds of a still-garrisoned battlefield: I could hear sentries on their watch and dull shouts of alarm from somewhere. Few people think of a battle as being anything other than h.e.l.lishly noisy, and such is mostly the case. But a siege can be different. It was very silent to me, although a civilian's ears would probably hear more; would hear that low constant growl that we no longer noted; a sound like great carrion beasts; the sound of armies waiting for battle.

I signalled for stillness. All of us held for a moment. If anyone had seen us, they might've thought we were praying. We were not. Maranonia is a good and sensible G.o.ddess, who knows the time for prayer is before and after a battle, not during. What all of us, from the lowest Guardswoman to myself, were doing was recollecting our 'map' - the mental image of the models and drawings General Jinnah's staff had drawn up of the sea-castle, taken from every conceivable source, from pre-war visitors to captured prisoners. Yes. Yes. It was most likely we were here ... or possibly over there ... so there should be some sort of pa.s.sageway out into the huge courtyard, and, from there, through the castle's inner defences to the gates themselves. At worst, we might be a floor too high. But now we were oriented.

Corais and Polillo were waiting for me to lead the charge. Their eyes bulged as I signed ... a touch on my helmet crest, a touch on each of theirs ... you are now in command you are now in command... a point... as your mind tells you as your mind tells you... as you were ordered ... as we practised ... and a gesture with the sword.

Attack!

But no one needed that final gesture. My legates - and my women -may have been astonished by this unexpected change, but they were soldiers and so they obeyed, just as I'd trained them. There was a scuffle of bootheels that sounded as if but one person was moving, and I was alone in the great chamber. Alone except for Flag Sergeant Ismet. I started to glower ... but she moved first. Two fingers were held up in the gloom. I was reminded that we always, always, always, fought in pairs. One hand extended, palm up. fought in pairs. One hand extended, palm up. I I await your orders. await your orders.

I grinned. Even here in this house made for nightmares, I found a moment of amus.e.m.e.nt. You, You, you poor idiot of an officer with only fifteen years or so service, you are actually thinking about countermanding one of the Flag Sergeant's wishes? Not a chance, I thought. We were a team and we would die as a team. you poor idiot of an officer with only fifteen years or so service, you are actually thinking about countermanding one of the Flag Sergeant's wishes? Not a chance, I thought. We were a team and we would die as a team.

It was time for Gamelan's other spell. I took the amulet - nothing but a st.i.tched-together twist of leather that held the sc.r.a.pings from his divining bones - from my pouch and touched it to my nose, then to the flagstones I stood on. I sniffed. There was no change.

No. Perhaps there was a new odour, sweet, distasteful and my mind compared it to a battlefield with unburied corpses. But it told me nothing. I considered, then remembered Gamelan had told me the amulet might need to be reinforced. I looked about. If I was right, and this was an audience chamber, and the Archons had used it, they'd most likely have stood... over there. On that low stone dais. I went to it, stepped up, and again touched the amulet to the stones. For further strength, I pressed it against one of the tapestries against the wall.

Again I sniffed. Again, came the odour, but now very strong, very heavy. I fought back a reflexive gag. Now I had a direction. I turned to gesture to Ismet and, of course, she was just where she should have been, three paces behind, three to the side, sword ready, paying no attention to my doings but eyes scanning the darkness for an attacker.

We went out of the chamber at a dogtrot. Our path led up four floors, but we didn't use the stairs we'd come down. Now we trod wide, stone-bal.u.s.traded ramps that were richly carpeted. I stopped every now and then, but the amulet guided me onward and the stench grew stronger.

Outside I heard shouts, screams and the clash of steel. Battle was joined. I wondered how far my Guardswomen had got before being discovered. The castle was coming alive as soldiers were bellowed awake and to battle. I heard cries of 'Betrayal!', 'They're inside!' and screams of panicked women and children.

The corridor opened onto a balcony and I could see the courtyard. It was huge. An entire army could've marched in review across were it not for the guard-towers and newly improvised breastworks. This was where the Archons held their monstrous sacrifices, where a victim first chose and then slowly butchered himself, spell-tied by their magic. Here was where they sought my brother, but another counterspell saved him. But now it was a battleground. Torches flared as Lycanthian soldiers ran out, buckling on armour and brandishing their arms. Far across that courtyard I heard the shouts of my women fighting. I could barely hold back a cheer as I saw the knot of struggling warriors. My Guardswomen had nearly reached their goal. They were fighting just before the castle's great gates. If they could but fight on and unbar them, our army could pour in.

But they'd been discovered at the most perilous stage. Naturally the Lycanthians had their strongest defence at the weakest point. The outer gates were protected by an inner, open pa.s.sageway, the tops of its high walls fitted with fighting decks. The inner gate had been burst open by my Guardswomen, but before they could pour down the pa.s.sageway, the counter-attack had been mounted. Now they fought for their lives just outside the pa.s.sage's entrance - soldiers blocking their way and others waiting atop those pa.s.sageway walls to send spearshowers and arrowflights down. My Guardswomen were between that anvil of the gatehouse and the onrushing hammer that was the reinforcing soldiers.

Still worse, I heard from just above a loud hiss - like a giant serpent awakening. Across the parade-ground two cyclones spun up - black against the torch flare and three or four times taller than a man. They whirled into the melee and Lycanthians and Guardswomen alike were picked up and smashed into the stone walls. My amulet gave off a last wave of scent - the stench of Archons' magic - and I turned and raced up another ramp towards the chamber above, Ismet close at my heels. I couldn't help by standing and watching. Either my Guards-women could hold back the physical threat or they would die. I had to strike against the greater jeopardy now building.

This was my secret purpose. I'd made two plans. The first called for my Guardswomen. The second was for myself - and now for Sergeant Ismet. My intent - and I realize it sounds insane - was to attack personally the Archons. I'd told no one because they would've refused me, d.a.m.ning my plan as that of an eager fool. I believed otherwise, knowing very well just how great an effect a determined warrior, who's willing to make the last sacrifice, can have. But, of course, in these modern times when men talk of great battalions and scores of Evocators and battles that stretch on for leagues and days, such an idea is romantic nonsense. Nonsense it may have been, but I'd commended my soul to Maranonia, my effects to my friends and family, and abandoned all thought of seeing the morrow.

The hissing grew louder as I reached the entrance to the chamber. There were no guards, which surprised me at first, but why should there be? Who would dare disturb the Archons?

I heard voices from inside... 'brother'... 'strike'... 'just women!'

... wishing I had a moment to collect my mind, my force and my breath, but I couldn't chance it, even now thinking I heard, perhaps I did hear, 'from behind!' 'from within!', 'Danger!' and I stormed into the Private Chamber of the Archons.

I saw in a blur gla.s.s and gold, alembics and scrolls, burning tapers and incense, bones and horrid creatures, but had no time, realizing there could be but one chance for a mortal to confront such sorcerers and that was blinding speed and surprise.

Two tall, bearded, vulture-faced men whose malignity marked them clear spun, hands coming up to tear, one stretching a finger like a lance, and something grey-black beginning to build, to dart at me, striking the sword from my hand and I hurled my shield sideways, spinning through the air into his guts, leaping after and there was a great cloud of smoke as I heard a very human screech of pain and a shout from the other and then I touched flesh, flesh became scales, became flesh and the Archon and I smashed to the floor, rolling about and I could feel huge muscles contort, as if I were in the ring against the strongest man I'd ever wrestled and great hands came up, forcing mine to the side and I was rolled over onto my back, as those hands came around my throat, gripping, thank the G.o.ds not knowing enough to press the arteries but squeezing my windpipe, world turning black and I struck straight up with my free hand, fingers clawed, stiff like a hawk's talons into the Archon's eyes and he screamed and I felt wetness and kickspun him off, both of us on our feet, but blood and fluid seeping through the fingers held to his face, but there was no time for that and I stepped into him, both fists together, swinging sideways like a morning star's ball and smashing into his temple and the Archon flipped back in a convulsion and fell, body thrashing, dead but not realizing it.

My eyes sought, found my sword and I scooped it up. I smashed one foot down on the Archon's chest, just as a man would immobilize a snake and struck once, cleanly. My sword struck his head from his shoulders and splintered on the stones. Dead, yes, for a moment at least, but now for the other one and I came back on guard.

There was no need. The only other person in -the room was Sergeant Ismet. 'He fled,' she said. 'He was turning towards you, hands moving to build a spell, and I cast my dagger. It struck him full on the chest, but fell away, as if he were wearing armour.'

'Which way? Where did he go?'

Ismet pointed to where a small doorway yawned. It was dark, black, just like the burrow Gamelan had promised I'd go down. 'Follow me,' I ordered.

'Aye, ma'am. After we cover our rear.'

Before I could snap a 'Now!', Ismet had found her dagger, strode to the Archon's headless corpse, knelt, and made the cut of the eagle. When she stood she held up his dripping heart. Then we were running into that tunnel, after the last Archon.

The tunnel was their final escape route. Here there were alcoves where someone could wait in ambush. But no one lurked. There were cunning devices, mantraps, but they were not c.o.c.ked. My mind kept wondering - why had the other Archon not remained to help his brother? Fear? Panic? Not likely from men, or once-men, who'd ruled so long and so bloodily. I didn't know the answer, but kept the pursuit, trying to move fast enough so we wouldn't lose our quarry, but not so fast we'd stumble into a trap.

The tunnel went on and on, growing narrower and smaller as it burrowed deeper. The tunnel was no longer masonry, but hewn from the living stone. I prayed it wouldn't grow narrower still so we'd be forced to our knees and bellies, only to find the tunnel taper down to nothingness and a magical escape - a nothingness that'd hold us in a vice in this sea-castle's bowels.

Then the tunnel ended and there was a moon and starlight. I peered out. We were about ten feet above the surface of the harbour. Above us was the cliff and above that the sea-castle we'd left to slip through the rock of the old volcano itself. I saw no sign of the Archon. I flinched, hearing an enormous smashing. I saw that huge chain blocking the harbour snap as if invisible hands had parted it. It came crashing down into the water. Now the harbour mouth was clear.

Sergeant Ismet shouted, 'Look there!' and I saw flags snap to the masthead of some of the Lycanthian ships we thought had lain unmanned. I knew both flags. The lower banner was long, split, with a sinuous panther in red. The house flag of my family's feudal enemy, Nisou Symeon! Still worse, the upper banner was the Royal Flag of Lycanth, a black twin-headed lion holding in its paws a crossed sword and wand. Somehow the Archon had made it aboard that ship. There were other ships - I heard Ismet mutter, 'Nine,' but I paid little attention, watching the small fleet sail directly towards me... and the harbour mouth. I groaned as I saw the last Archon was making his escape.

It was as if my eyes were given a magical gla.s.s at that moment, and I could see, as if they were only yards away, the two men beside the lead ship's helmsman. The first was Nisou Symeon. I'd never seen him before, but knew him by his fire-scarred face that had once been as fair as any woman's - wounds made by my brother and Janos Greycloak. Behind him was the Archon!

I heard a roar like a hurricane wind coming from that ship and I knew they'd seen me, as well. A flight of arrows arced towards the tunnel mouth. Ismet pulled me back and the arrows clattered harmlessly against stone. I saw the ships sail past and was drawn back to watch. There was no one waiting to stop their escape. Perhaps, if we'd guessed we could have had Cholla Yi's ships in position, blocking the harbour, but who would have expected such an eventuality?

The roaring sound grew louder and then from out of the depths snapped a long tentacle. It lashed around my waist. I lost balance, tottered, then found a grip on a rock outcropping and held on as I heard the roaring turn to a bellow of glee. I fought with all my strength, but I was being pulled loose as if I were a limpet being plucked for a seaside picnic. I looked down at the filthy harbour water and saw other tentacles thrash, then curl up to take me in their embrace. I heard the clack from a yellow beak and saw the gleam of a cold eye.

A dagger flashed past, down towards the water, and the air was a spray of black ink and I was free and the sea was a roil of sc.u.m and then there was nothing.

'I never miss more than once,' came Ismet's voice.

Both of us were ink-stained from that spray from that cuttlefish the Archon's last, parting spell must have called up.

'One escaped,' I said. I saw Symeon's nine ships as an offsh.o.r.e wind caught them and their sails filled.

Ismet said nothing, but pointed upward.

I looked at the sea-castle's battlements just as Orissa's golden banner floated forth.

So one of them had escaped, I thought. But what was a magician, even one such as the Archon, without his base, without his charms, without his scrolls?

Four.

The Wizard's Heart.

THERE HAS NEVER been a victory feast as great as the one that came after the fall of Lycanth. It didn't matter that one of the Archons and Nisou Symeon had escaped. It was enough, when the new day dawned, that soldiers saw the Orissan banner flying from the highest point of the Lycanthian sea-castle. Now they could creep out from their tunnels, and walk freely about under the looming battlements that had spat death at them for so many months. The soldiers were drunk with joy, shouting, singing, whirling about in mad dances. All of our G.o.ds were hauled out and bedecked with garlands, looted finery and jewels. The sea-castle was looted and real drink found, and the celebration grew wilder still. Beeves, fowls, pigs and pups were sacrificed to the G.o.ds. been a victory feast as great as the one that came after the fall of Lycanth. It didn't matter that one of the Archons and Nisou Symeon had escaped. It was enough, when the new day dawned, that soldiers saw the Orissan banner flying from the highest point of the Lycanthian sea-castle. Now they could creep out from their tunnels, and walk freely about under the looming battlements that had spat death at them for so many months. The soldiers were drunk with joy, shouting, singing, whirling about in mad dances. All of our G.o.ds were hauled out and bedecked with garlands, looted finery and jewels. The sea-castle was looted and real drink found, and the celebration grew wilder still. Beeves, fowls, pigs and pups were sacrificed to the G.o.ds.

Just knowing there'd be life the next day and the day after that was so soul-filling that all discipline was swept away in that joyous storm. Wisely, we officers made no attempt to stem the antics, other than making sure no civilians or prisoners suffered.

My women celebrated as wildly as any of the others. Polillo tramped into our encampment with a keg of looted brandy on each shoulder. She broached them with her axe, and the amber liquor flowed into my sisters' throats. Corais and Ismet stayed reasonably sober, keeping watch on their comrades' tempers. Such extreme happiness, mixed with brandy, can be a powerful elixir for the unwary, and the demons of anger are always ready to pounce on the smallest insult. Many a lovers' quarrel has been settled with a blade after a battle. We had blood enough on our hands.

As for me, I suddenly found I'd become that oddest of creatures - a hero. The young recruit dreams of such a thing, weary muscles trembling in their sleep after a day of shouting sergeants lashing her from one absurd task to the next, dreams of one day standing tall but humble as thousands of voices shout her name; while old soldiers speak in hushed tones when she pa.s.ses. I dreamed such dreams when I was young. But when the hero's garland really was bestowed on me that day, I did not find it so pleasant. The fast ship that carried news of our victory to Orissa, also bore flowery descriptions of my deeds and the deeds of the Maranon Guard. The battle-blasted landscape echoed with my praises. Wherever I walked crowds of soldiers parted before me. Some reached to touch my tunic as if it were sacred cloth, instead of a rough soldier's weave. Gifts were heaped before my tent and the mound grew so quickly I had to post a guard politely to turn their bearers away. There were marriage proposals by the scores. Men begged to father a child with me. Women - even those who'd once turned their noses up at me - left intimate things in my path, and whispered hot entreaties from the shadows to share my bed. It was said a day would be named in my honour, with all the special sacrifices and ceremonies that sort of thing entails.

I did not find it pleasant, Scribe. I still do not. It is a false thing, a deadly thing, that can turn a happily common mortal into a demon of vanity. Heroes belong in the grave. It is the only place they can be safe from themselves - and their worshippers.

The worst thing about my sudden leap to sanct.i.ty, was that Jinnah's hatred deepened as he saw himself being robbed of the hero's crown he'd he'd coveted. Somehow word leaked that Jinnah had been forced by Gamelan into carrying out my plan. Within hours after the last Lycanthian surrendered, there were jokes being made at his expense. The long, b.l.o.o.d.y siege was being dubbed 'Jinnah's Folly,' and there were those who cursed him bitterly for letting the fight go on so long, and for so many addle-brained decisions which, they charged, had cost thousands their lives. coveted. Somehow word leaked that Jinnah had been forced by Gamelan into carrying out my plan. Within hours after the last Lycanthian surrendered, there were jokes being made at his expense. The long, b.l.o.o.d.y siege was being dubbed 'Jinnah's Folly,' and there were those who cursed him bitterly for letting the fight go on so long, and for so many addle-brained decisions which, they charged, had cost thousands their lives.

To be fair, the Lycanthians had been the toughest of foes, and the Archons so powerful they nearly bested our own Evocators. Still, there were many things Jinnah would have to answer for, not here, but when he returned to Orissa and stood before the Council of Magistrates. It was apparent that some G.o.d would have to take a sudden, and very great liking to Jinnah if he was to save himself from a shame that would last into the ages.

Jinnah's luck, however, changed that very night. It rode in on a furious storm that sank our encampment in a sea of mud. The rain was blinding. The seas raged high, crashing over the rocky sh.o.r.e in waves three times the height of a tall woman. Then Jinnah sent word that I was to come to him - immediately. Not to his tent, but to the sea-castle and to the Private Chamber where I'd killed the Archon's brother.

As I entered the vast room I couldn't help but grip the little amulet Gamelan had given me. I took comfort the awful odour that had betrayed the Archons' presence was gone. As I looked about, shielding my eyes from the white-hot glare of sorcerous torches rekindled with Orissan magic, I saw with much surprise there was no sign of the struggle that had taken place just hours before. Everything seemed to have been put back into pristine order by Gamelan and his Evocators. I saw white-sashed novices sweeping up the last bits of broken gla.s.s. They were given to yellow-sashed apprentices who shook sweet-smelling smoke on them, whispered enchantments, and the bits reformed themselves into jars, or vials, or crystal bowls, etched with sorcerous symbols. Other wizards and their helpers were moving quiedy about, replacing things on tables and benches and hand-carved shelves. The whole thing was being directed by several red-sashed senior wizards, who seemed to be working from parchment maps of the room that Gamelan, or an a.s.sistant, had used spells to recreate. To one side, near a large golden urn, I saw Jinnah and a knot of aides. They were watching Gamelan, who had set up an odd apparatus on a portable altar. He was making some adjustments, but no sooner had I entered than he looked up - his yellow eyes darting about until they found me. He made a signal - as if in warning. Before I could make clear his intent, Jinnah saw me.

'Ah, Captain Antero,' he said. 'The hero of the hour.' There was venom in his tone. 'Come here, if you please. We have need of your a.s.sistance.'

I knew jealousy and hatred had mated in Jinnah's breast, but as I joined the group I was startled to see a look of pure delight in his eyes. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but the look reminded me of our old kitchen cat when she had a rat at her mercy.

'General,' I said, 'what is the trouble?'

'It seems we may have won the battle,' Jinnah said, with odd relish, 'but not the war.'

'Well put, sir,' his toady, Captain Hux, said. Then to me: 'We fear all your bold actions may have been for naught.'

I looked at Gamelan. 'The Archon?' I asked.

Gamelan nodded, grave. 'The General sent Admiral Cholla Yi after him,' he said. 'But the Archon raised the storm we are now experiencing, and forced him to give up the chase.'

He continued making adjustments to the apparatus, which was a complicated thing - with spider)' tubes and wires and gla.s.s retorts filled with multi-coloured liquids set to a boil by some magical force. Coloured steam issued from them, but there was no odour.

I shrugged. 'It can't storm for ever,' I said. 'We'll catch him soon enough. No land will take him in, now that he's lost his armies and his homeland. Our spies will soon ferret him out.'

But as I said this, I felt a chill at my spine, and involuntarily touched Gamelan's amulet. The old wizard caught my motion and nodded. 'We can't risk our future to chance and spies,' he said. He made a wide gesture, taking in the vaulted room. 'We've recreated every detail of this chamber at the moment before you so boldly entered, down to a c.o.c.kroach that had just investigated the contents of a wizard's pouch.'

Gamelan lifted up a small leather bag. The leather was rich and scored with symbols. He undid a gold tie, pinched out a bit of dust and held it over one of the gla.s.s retorts. 'This was one of the ingredients for a spell. It's made of ground bone and the stalk of some vegetation. But it is bone and plant life that none of us have ever encountered.' He dropped the dust into boiling liquid. Then he corked the retort and pushed a piece of copper tubing through a hole. The tubing ran into the maze of tubes and gla.s.s that made up his apparatus. Gamelan spun the blades of a small prayer wheel set up next to the device. We heard the faint sound of bells, as the wheel began its automatic chant. I knew little of magic then, but had no doubt the machine, linked somehow jo the prayer wheel, was born from my brother's and Janos Greycloak's discoveries in the Far Kingdoms.

Gamelan made no explanation. He turned back to us as if the apparatus had nothing to do with our conversation.

'Tell her the rest,'Jinnah urged. 'Tell her what you have learned.'

Without preface, Gamelan said: 'We have found unmistakable evidence that the Archon and his brother were only days away from creating that weapon we all so feared. What's worse, the Archons had prepared for possible defeat by making duplicates of all their equipment and notes. Those things were placed in special trunks that cannot be penetrated by any natural or sorcerous force. When our friend fled on Lord Symeon's ships those trunks went with him.' sorcerous force. When our friend fled on Lord Symeon's ships those trunks went with him.'

My innards gave a lurch. I turned to Jinnah, angry. 'Storm, or no storm, we should be out there right now hunting him down. What possessed Cholla Yi to turn back? Symeon didn't have much of a start on him. And I've no doubt that pirate has faced worse tempests before.'

'Admiral Cholla Yi did his best,' Jinnah said. 'But he did not have the means to press the chase.'

'He wanted more money, I suppose.' I did nothing to disguise my disgust.

Jinnah nodded. 'Naturally. We fight for ideals. He fights, for coin. Besides, he needs more ships, supplies, and a greater force so that when we catch the Archon, we can finish the job.'

It suddenly came to me that the general was being altogether too casual. What was the purpose of this meeting? Why was he wasting time telling me all this? I was but one of his officers. Instead of telling me me his plans, Jinnah should have been issuing the pertinent orders. An expedition needed to be mounted immediately. The greater the distance the Archon and Symeon put between us and their ships, the more difficult it would be to capture and defeat them. As we spoke an Orissan commander of sea-experienced soldiers should have been readying his men to board Cholla Yi's ships to resume the chase, just as I should have been putting my women in motion for a quick march home to take up guard in case the Archon somehow found the means to threaten Orissa. All the talk of doomsday weapons and slippery wizards reminded me of the Maranon Guard's historic duty to keep Orissa safe. Then it began to dawn what Jinnah had in mind. his plans, Jinnah should have been issuing the pertinent orders. An expedition needed to be mounted immediately. The greater the distance the Archon and Symeon put between us and their ships, the more difficult it would be to capture and defeat them. As we spoke an Orissan commander of sea-experienced soldiers should have been readying his men to board Cholla Yi's ships to resume the chase, just as I should have been putting my women in motion for a quick march home to take up guard in case the Archon somehow found the means to threaten Orissa. All the talk of doomsday weapons and slippery wizards reminded me of the Maranon Guard's historic duty to keep Orissa safe. Then it began to dawn what Jinnah had in mind.

Before the realization was fully formed, he said, in the most oily manner imaginable: 'You'll be pleased to know, Captain, that I've decided the Maranon Guard should have the honour o( honour o(this most vital mission.'

'That's foolishness, sir,' I retorted. 'My soldiers are more battle-weary than any others in our army. Or are you forgetting today's battle?'

'Of course I'm not, dear Captain,' he oozed. 'It was your courage and theirs I had uppermost in my mind when I made my decision.'

I knew instantly what he was about. He was as transparent as any courtesan's dancing veil. With me out of the way, Jinnah would be able to shift the glory my Guard had won onto his own shoulders. As well as a jackal pack's worth of the booty from our defeated enemy.

'Yes, indeed,' Jinnah continued. 'This is a mission of such importance that only one woman woman is suitable for it. The Hero of Lycanth. Captain Rali Emilie Antero.' is suitable for it. The Hero of Lycanth. Captain Rali Emilie Antero.'

I knew I was lost, but I tried one more sally. 'I'd be glad to oblige, General,' I said, as smoothly as I could. 'And we all thank you for the singular honour, but the Maranon Guard's duty is at home. As a matter of fact, I was going to come by in the morning, and ask you for my orders.'

'You can have them now,' Jinnah said. 'But you won't be going home. As I said, this is a task for a hero. And a hero it shall have. As, no doubt, the Magistrates shall agree when I toast you at the victory feast in Orissa a few weeks hence.'

Hux and the other aides sn.i.g.g.e.red.

Jinnah's next words came in a growl of command. 'You and your women will will join Admiral Yi at first light. Your orders are to pursue the Archon. You will find him and kill him. You will spare no effort, no cost, no life, until you find him and kill him. What's more, I order you not to return until that goal has been accomplished. Do I make myself clear?' join Admiral Yi at first light. Your orders are to pursue the Archon. You will find him and kill him. You will spare no effort, no cost, no life, until you find him and kill him. What's more, I order you not to return until that goal has been accomplished. Do I make myself clear?'

It was like a banishment, as if my women and I were being punished for our success - which we were.

You seem as stunned as I was, Scribe. The histories that have been written of those events make no mention of Jinnah's motives, do they? Welcome to the side of the world that women dwell in, my friend. It's quite cramped, for men require - and command - a great deal more room than me and my sisters. It's quite cold over here, as well, Scribe. The fuel for our fires has been rationed, you see. It has been deemed that we only need enough to warm childish pride in our looks, the ability to win a bed mate, and to keep hearth, children and kitchen clean. And it's quite gloomy. You don't need much light when you're a mere reflection of men.

I stared long and hard at Jinnah after he had spoken. I tried to will him to call back his words. But I wouldn't, and perhaps from his view couldn't, retreat. I wanted to shout that the Guard was a land force, and had been so since its inception. We had no experience with the sea. I wanted to curse him for trying to steal the glory that only an hour before I'd disdained. I wanted to plead with him - not for my life - but for my sisters' lives. How many now had a hope of returning to Orissa's blessed sh.o.r.es? But I couldn't do any of those things. Orders had been clearly given, no matter how insane.