Wizard Of Rentoro Part 10

"It may also frighten him into striking out like a madman," Serana said grimly. "We shall see."

If Duke Efrim did strike out, he was going to find it hard to do anything against Blade and Serana. They were no longer keeping their headquarters at Haymi's Fountain. Instead they were in a large room on the second floor of the town house of a merchant who was one of the rebel leaders. Mare than fifty armed men guarded the house and watched the streets around it. Blade and Serana wore chain mail under their clothes during the day and ate and drank nothing that hadn't been tasted for them. No handful of the Wizard's a.s.sa.s.sins would get through to them. It would take a small army and that meant Duke Efrim.

By sending that army the duke would be declaring war against his own people, as an ally of the Wizard. Then whatever happened to Morina, he would not live to see it. Blade, Serana, and the rebellion's leaders knew this. If Duke Efrim knew it as well, it might keep the peace in Morina.

One by one the messengers sent to ask about the future of the House of Zotair returned. One by one they reported. As they reported, Serana's face became steadily grimmer. She'd suspected Count Drago might be telling the truth, but it still hurt to have him confirmed by half the n.o.blemen and great merchants of Morina.

"The House of Zotair has come to the end of its road," she said with a weary sigh, "My brother could come out into the public streets and denounce the Wizard at the top of his lungs. He'd still be torn to bits before he could finish speaking. Never mind for the moment all he's done for the Wizard. He and his drinking companions have broken too many heads, raped too many women, burned or smashed too many shops. Even when they're only amusing themselves they behave like Wolves in a rebellious town.

"I myself am not hated. I am honored for what I have endured at the Wizard's hands, respected, even loved. No one in Morina wishes me harm, but no one wishes to see me in power if it means the Zotairs will still be ruling."

"What about Efrim's sons?" asked Blade.

"What about them?" replied Serana with a shrug. "They are a little boy and a baby. A regency is the last thing Morina needs after all that will happen before the Wizard falls."

Blade nodded, relieved. He'd only raised the point to make sure Serana herself was convinced that a regency was too dangerous. It was obvious such an arrangement could not provide Morina with the strong leadership it needed. Blade also suspected it could not stand against Serana's ambitions, if she chose to make trouble. She might be willing to put those ambitions aside for the time being; he found it hard to believe she could put them aside forever.

"I think it's time we sent for Count Drago," Blade said.

Count Drago came, wearing an ancient coat of mail dug out of some secret closet. His face was pale and drawn, as if he'd been sleeping less than usual the past two nights.

"You look like a ghost," said Serana. "Sit down and have some wine and cake. You want to live to see Morina free, don't you?"

Count Drago smiled, but there was no amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice as he replied. "I am a ghost, in a way. Or at least I feel there are ghosts with me and in me." He sipped at his wine.

"Last night I dreamed of a procession of the dead, Morina's dead in a hundred years of warfare against the Wizard. My father led the procession, with his shield upon his shoulder and his skull gaping open as it did when they found his body. He spoke to me, though I do not remember what he said. Then he gave me his shield, and after that I awoke."

In spite of this voice from the past, the count was as ruthless and unsentimental as ever when it came to deciding the future of Morina. The bargaining went on all day and only came to an end over a late supper. In the end they worked out the following agreement: (1) The Bossirs should be declared the true and proper heirs to the ducal throne by the a.s.sembly of Morina as soon as it could lawfully meet.

(2) Count Drago would renounce any claim to the throne for himself.

(3) His surviving grandson Zemun would be proclaimed Duke of Morina upon the deposition or death of Duke Efrim.

(4) If Zemun Bossir did not survive the coming battles, Zemun's own son by his dead wife would be proclaimed heir.

(5) If Zemun's son succeeded, Count Drago would be sole Regent as long as he lived. After that there would be a Council of Regency, drawn from the a.s.sembly and other notables.

(6) Serana would marry Zemun Bossir after the war, and become d.u.c.h.ess of Morina. She would also be a member of the Council of Regency if one became necessary.

There were also several dozen minor clauses, dividing up the Zotair estates, awarding this or that office, etc., with repeated references to the count's will. Serana's dowery rights, and much else. By the time every point was covered; the agreement spread across several large sheets of parchment. By the time it was all drawn up with proper calligraphy and in proper legal language, it would be the size of a small book.

None of them considered the time wasted. As long as they were going to reach are agreement at all, they had to do a good job. As the count put it, "We're forging a weapon to use against the Wizard. No sensible man will ever trust a weapon that's not well made."

At last the job was done. The count was escorted home by a squad of Blade's guards and Serana led Blade to their bed. He went, but afterward asked, "Do you think we should go on sharing this room? If you are to be married to Zemun Bossir after the war-"

"Zemun Bossir will have a good and loyal wife, after I have married him," Serana replied. "Until our wedding day, I am by law, custom, and my own choice my own mistress. If Zemun Bossir worries about what I do now, he will only waste strength he will certainly need against the Wolves."

Then her lips began their urgent journey back and forth across Blade's body. As he lay back under their caresses, Blade thought of her last remark, and how true it was. Sooner or later, this unnatural condition that was neither war nor peace would come to a b.l.o.o.d.y end, and the Wolves would come to Morina.

Blade went up on the city's walls every morning before dawn, to watch for the smoke on the horizon and the glint of sunlight on armor that would tell him the Wolves had come. Sometimes Zemun Bossir accompanied Blade, sometimes Count Drago. Young Zemun was so happy over being heir-apparent to Morina that he was quite prepared to forgive Blade for almost anything.

"After all, Blade." he said, "I owe you far too much to feel the jealous rage of a child. I know what sort of captivity Serana endured in the Wizard's castle. I shall make her forget it all when I am duke. I shall do anything to make her forget it, anything."

"You show a good heart, Zemun. I wish you luck, and both of you much happiness."

Privately Blade sometimes thought Zemun Bossir was so enthusiastic about becoming Duke of Morina that he sometimes forgot about the coming war. Still, he seemed a good choice to rule the new Morina. He was brave, intelligent, thoroughly honest, and with a real gift for winning popularity. His company of guards would follow him through fire and water. He was also impulsive, enthusiastic, and talkative, but he'd get over that in a few more years-if he or anyone else in Morina lived that long.

The Wolves would come. It was impossible that the Wizard would let his power simply dissolve without putting up a fight to save it. So where were the Wolves?

Count Drago offered part of the answer. "I've read the history of every fight the Wolves have been in since I was born," he said. "I've never read of their being out for more than five or six days at a time. I've never heard of their laying siege to a city, or even using war engines in the field. Did you see any stone-throwers, wagons, tents, things like that, when you were in the castle?"

"No."

"Then the Wizard probably doesn't have any. He's like all soldiers. When they've fought one kind of war for three generations, they forget there's any other kind.

"The Wolves have been raiders, not campaigners, for three generations. They'll have to build everything they need for a long campaign, then learn how to use it, then march on Morina. The sky-bridges won't put them down right outside our gates this time. They'll have to ride, probably for several days, and our scouts will be watching them every foot of the way."

The count rambled on about the coming campaign against the Wolves for quite a while. Blade began to realize that one problem when the Wolves did come would be keeping Count Drago out of the fighting. His eighty years had slowed his limbs, but they hadn't dimmed his eye or his fierce hatred of the Wolves.

Blade hoped the count was right about the Wolves having to learn to become campaigners instead of raiders. If he was, Morina might have more time than Blade had dared hope. Every extra day would make it a tougher nut for the Wolves to crack.

No one in Morina was wasting any time. The weaponsmakers worked as if the Wolves were already at the gates.

The forges smoked and the toots clattered morning, noon, and night. Already there were weapons for two thousand men. In another two weeks there would be enough to arm five thousand, which was nearly every man in Morina fit for war.

The men already armed were training hard, under Blade's leadership and the guidance of reliable men from Zemun Bossir's company of guards. The city's guards had been policemen and firemen as much as soldiers, but they made fairly good drillmasters. Compared to Blade, the Wizard had an easy job. He merely had to make raiders into campaigners. Blade had to make an army of men who hadn't fought or expected to fight for three generations.

Other things were being done, to make sure Morina would not be taken by surprise or have to fight alone. Mounted patrols scoured all the roads, stopping and searching travellers to make sure the Wizard's agents could not place new skybridge crystals close to the city. Working parties prepared ambush sites and roadblocks Blade was taking a leaf from the Wizard's own book, setting up a defense in depth to hammer at the Wolves long before they reached the city's walls.

The most important riders were those who pounded along the roads with Blade's messages to the other cities and towns of Rentoro. Rise, he told them. Rise and be free! The Wizard has never had real magic, and now he has no secrets either. I know how we may defeat him, and free Rentoro from his grasp.

Some of the cities and towns rose against the Wizard even more enthusiastically than Morina. The Wizard's spies fled or died horribly, blacksmiths sweated forging spearpoints and helmets, and search parties scoured the countryside for skybridge crystals.

There were many ways to destroy the crystals, or at least make them useless. They could be thrown into a fire hot enough to melt them, crushed to powder under heavy stones, or simply picked up and carried off. Blade heard of one particularly ingenious trick used by an outlaw leader in the far north. The leader's name was Arno, and he wore a black mask to conceal a face twisted by a birth injury.

He picked up the crystals of a sky-bridge, took them to a nearby lake, and carefully dropped them into the deepest part of it. Blade wondered what would happen when the Wizard tried to activate that particular sky-bridge. Would the crystals simply not work? Would they explode, or perhaps flood the Great Hall? Even better, might the Wolves get through, to find themselves drowning thirty feet down? Blade applauded Arno's ingenuity and hoped he would be able to meet the man before he had to leave Rentoro.

Some of the scouting parties found only patrols of Wolves. Although the Wizard was not yet attacking Morina, he was not abandoning the countryside to his enemies. Small raiding parties of Wolves charged in and out of those skybridges that were still open. They intercepted messengers, ambushed scouts, attacked undefended farms and villages in the old style. For the moment the Wizard was using random terror against his enemies, since he had nothing else.

The Wolves did not have everything their own way. Now they faced Rentorans who'd lost most of their terror of the Wizard's magic, and knew that the Wolves were only men like themselves, no matter whom they served. The Rentorans did not fight very skillfully, and many of them died. But they fought bravely, desperately, and viciously, and a good many Wolves also died.

Meanwhile, the cities and towns were raising armies. The ones in rebellion against the Wizard were preparing to defend themselves against the Wolves. If they didn't have walls or moats, they were also digging ditches and building log palisades as fast as they could.

Other cities and towns were declaring themselves allies of the Wizard, and preparing armies to march with the Wolves against their neighbors. Serana cursed fluently when she heard this news, but admitted she wasn't greatly surprised.

"As you said, Blade, many people are going to try settling old scores or s.n.a.t.c.hing someone else's land. Also, what do you wager that those cities which march with the Wizard will ask a stiff price for their aid?"

"I wouldn't wager anything," replied Blade. "I think it's a certainty. Even those people who support the Wizard won't go in awe of his magic anymore. They'll treat him as they would any other tyrant, to be supported or fought as common sense tells them. The Wizard's old power in Rentoro is already gone, and that means he's doomed, sooner or later." Blade was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. How long would it take to bring the Wizard down? It might take only a single pitched battle. It might also take ten years of savage warfare, reducing half of Rentoro to a desert. Blade kept that second possibility very much to himself.

The pa.s.sing weeks turned into a month. Morina's defenders were now armed and trained. Heavy stone-throwers were being constructed, and gangs of men were cleaning out Morina's ancient moat and refilling it.

Another week. Still no Wolves, and still not a single word or action from Duke Efrim. Serana began to find her brother's silence not only mysterious, but even alarming.

"You think he's planning something?" asked Blade.

"Let's say that I can think of no other good reason for him to be silent so long," she replied "He can control his temper if he has to. Often he lulls his enemies into believing he doesn't care, and then strikes when they're off guard."

"What would you expect him to be planning?"

"I don't know. He must know by now that he can't challenge us openly. That means treachery. How, when, where-the fates only know, and they're not telling us!"

"Perhaps we'd better pick some of our best fighters and mount them on heudas," Blade said. "That way they can reach any point inside the walls faster than men on foot. I can keep them under my personal command and throw them in wherever they're needed."

"I like that idea, Blade. A force of picked men, faithfully obeying our orders, able to keep their mouths shut-"

Blade didn't like the tone of Serana's voice or the expression on her face. "Serana, the mounted guard will be under my orders. I won't let it be used for any little plots you may have against the Bossirs."

"I resent---"

"You can resent my suspicions as much as you want, and I won't change my mind. I won't cooperate in any treachery against Zemun Bossir, either. If necessary, I'll ask Count Drago to help me pick the men. You may be better off helping rule Morina for Zemun's son. I imagine you could even find ways of making sure the boy never lives to rule. But what about Morina?"

Serana's face turned very pale, and she swept out of the room without a word. Blade sighed and poured himself more wine. He knew he'd been rude, but he also suspected he'd been right. Serana might very well risk an "accident" to Zemun Bossir and trust to luck and her own wits to prevent civil war in Morina. Blade knew he was going to have to keep a close watch on both of them-and also on his own back, now that he'd earned Serana's resentment. She might now be thinking of arranging an "accident" for him as well as for young Bossir.

Things would be a great deal simpler if the Wolves would only come. Then there would be enough fighting to keep everybody too busy for plotting.

Chapter 21.

At last the Wolves came.

The first sign of their coming was the expected pillars of smoke on the horizon. Then came messengers from the scouting parties on sweating, half-dead heudas. Finally came the refugees.

The Wolves were approaching Morina in a great arc, thirty miles from tip to tip. As they moved they killed, raped, and destroyed. Everything they couldn't eat, drink or carry away they smashed or burned. Houses and fields went up in flames, fruit trees were girdled, wells filled with manure or dead bodies. Behind them they left a grisly trail of ashes, rubble, and charred or gutted human bodies.

Before them fled everyone who could move, with whatever they could s.n.a.t.c.h up and sling on their own backs or the backs of their heudas. The refugees poured down the roads to Morina and swarmed around the city's gates. Blade was able to persuade some to keep on going southward, out of reach of the coming battle and hopefully out of reach of the Wolves. Many of the refugees were too mad with fear to think clearly. They saw safety behind the stout walls of Morina, and never mind that they'd be eating its food and sharing its doom if it fell.

Blade did his best to have the refugees questioned and searched as they came, but that "best" was not very good. There were too many refugees and too few men at the gates. There were other problems as well, as Zemun Bossir told Blade one morning.

"Some of the men don't seem to be interested in searching at all. They won't even shake a bag or open a box."

"Is there anything special about the men who are doing this?"

"Most of the ones I've seen are those who've been on palace duty."

"You suspect the duke?"

"It would be the logical thing for him to do-get spies or even Wolves into the city, disguised as refugees."

"Logic isn't proof."

"No, and we won't be able to prove anything. If I start questioning the men, they'll resent it and we'd just be warning the duke. I'm glad we have your mounted guard."

So was Blade. The seventy-five men of his mounted guard were now the best-trained and best-equiped fighting force in Morina. They all had good heudas, lances, bows, helmets, and axes or maces. Many of them had armor-chain mail, pulled out of secret hiding places, or improvised back and breast plates. They could do anything seventy-five men could do against any possible enemies, even the Wolves. Blade could only wish he had ten times as many of them.

Along with the refugees, messages from elsewhere in Rentoro came in almost every day. Several cities that supported the Wizard were sending their armies out to join the Wolves. Several others were sending their armies to join the defenders of Morina. Tens of thousands of men were on the march in Rentoro, a land where hardly anyone except the Wolves had raised a sword in half a century. Now the horizon was blackened with smoke in all directions, not just where the Wolves marched.

As the Wolves marched, the handful of Morinans who could fight in the open nipped at their heels, laid ambushes, cut down bridges and trees, and scouted in their rear. They killed a few Wolves and learned a good deal. Most of what they learned was encouraging.

"The Wizard has done his best to fit out the Wolves for a long campaign, but he hasn't done the job too well. They've got only a few siege engines, practically no spare animals, and only a small wagon train. They won't be able to feed themselves through a long siege. Burning over the countryside behind them won't help either."

"So what does this mean?" asked Serana.

"It means that the Wolves must either win quickly or retreat. If we can keep these out of Morina for as little as a month, we've won. Then they will have to retreat, and if they do that, many of the cities who now support the Wizard may change sides. We're the heart of the rebellion, and the Wizard's only hope is to strike us down quickly. If he fails-" Blade shrugged.

"Then if Duke Efrim is planning any treachery, it will be something that can help the Wolves win a quick victory," said Zemun Bossir.

"Exactly," said Blade. That didn't tell them very much, unfortunately. What he feared most was a spy smuggling in a pair of crystals, so that the Wolves could pour across a skybridge and emerge in the heart of Morina. They were certainly small enough to be concealed in a dozen different ways. To be sure, it took some time to tune new skybridge crystals for a city. But the Wizard and all of his best a.s.sistants could have been working night and day since they knew the crystals for Morina were gone.

At least Morina had alert sentries and the mounted guard to use against such a sudden eruption of Wolves. There was another danger which Blade feared even more, because there was absolutely nothing that could be done against it.

The Wizard had spoken of coming with his Wolves against Morina, to use his mental powers on the city and sow panic among the people. Was he riding with the Wolves? Would he bring all his mental powers to bear, and what would happen if he did? Would the sentries on the wall abandon their posts, the women run screaming through the streets, the fighting men cower and cringe, unable to raise a weapon to defend themselves? Blade didn't even like to think about the possibility, and he refused to mention it to any of the Morinans.

On the fifth morning after the first smoke clouds, the northern horizon came alive with gleaming helmets. A final messenger rode in, with a letter from the outlaw leader, Arno of the Mask. He was on his way south to Morina, with all his men and all those he could gather up on the way. The Morinans should be of good cheer, for his coming would surely bring them victory and good fortune.

Under other circ.u.mstances the arrogance of the message would have been amusing. As it was, the only thing that made Serana cheerful was the idea of chopping off Arno's head as soon as they'd finished with the Wolves. Blade let her fume and swear. The angrier she got at the distant Arno, the less she'd be thinking about treachery against Zemun Bossir.

Then the Wolves drew an iron circle around Morina, and for the city and everybody in it, the rest of the world no longer existed.

It was the tenth night of the siege of Morina. Blade and Zemun Bossir were walking along the walls. Both walked bent forward, to keep their heads below the top of the improvised wooden battlements. The Wolves kept archers close up to the moat, and even at night they were dangerously accurate.

It was another of those black Rentoran nights. Blade wondered if the Wolves were going to take advantage of this darkness to make their long-awaited a.s.sault on the city. They'd been building rams and scaling ladders ever since they settled into their siege camp.

He walked on, occasionally stopping to glance across the tangled rooftops of Morina toward the ducal palace. Its tall domed bell tower was the test observation point in Morina. A small force of guards tricked by Count Drago kept watch from the bell chamber.. Duke Efrim apparently didn't mind having them up there.

Blade wondered if the duke could still be planning any treachery, if he would let his own palace be used as an observation point. The men up there could not only watch the city and the surrounding countryside, they could keep an eye on the palace courtyards as well.

Two lanterns lit up the bell chamber. As Blade looked at the tower, he thought he saw one of them start to flicker, as if blown by a strong wind. Suddenly it went out, like a snuffed candle. A moment later the second lantern also went out. Darkness swallowed the tower, but before it did Blade could have sworn he saw a man-sized, man-shaped object plunge out into s.p.a.ce from one of the chamber windows.

That could have been his imagination. The lanterns were something else. They couldn't have been blown out by the wind-not when Blade could barely feel the air stirring around him.

He turned and dashed back to Zemun Bossir. "Somebody's playing tricks in the ducal palace. The lanterns are out in the bell chamber."

Zemun looked and nodded. "You think?"