Thief (The Key to Magic Book 7) Page 5

  Traeleon dropped the single transcribed page of the much too brief report from Director Whorlyr back onto the table. The sanitized account of the complete destruction of the algars and their crews had simply confirmed the anticipated. Whorlyr's personal survival was of no consequence. In fact, it might become necessary to offer the Martial Director up as a scapegoat to deflect the brunt of the criticism that this debacle was sure to generate.

  Traeleon's thoughts turned once again to the magical visitation of the prophet and the woeful lack of specifics in his warning. That was always the major failing of the pronouncements of prophets and soothsayers -- lack of useful detail. After another moment, he caught Bhrucherra's eye to draw him away from his monitoring of the busy chatter of the far talking disk operators.

  "Brother," Traeleon said as soon as the First Inquisitor had approached, "there is an Archivist here in the fortress that studies the celestial lights. Do you recall his name?"

  "That would be Brother Kloa'geo, a Subdeacon."

  "Thank you." Traeleon turned to speak to the guard that stood against the wall to his right. "Coordinator Ylmhelaok, send a brace of Salients to summon Brother Kloa'geo at once."

  "As you say, Preeminence," The Salient stepped away to speak with another of his cloister, then returned to his post.

  "You expect the Apostate to descend from Father Moon?" Bhrucherra asked with a slight quirk of his lips that might have been an infrequently appearing smile.

  "The Cousins are Relics," Traeleon said blandly, watching the First Inquisitor's response.

  Bhrucherra's expression revealed nothing and he did not reply immediately. When he did finally speak, his question addressed a possibility that Traeleon had not considered.

  "Could a Shrike reach them?"

  "It may be possible. This should be investigated."

  "I will have it done."

  When the Salients entered the command hall, quite literally dragging Brother Kloa'geo between them, Traeleon frowned.

  "Coordinator Ylmhelaok, when I said 'at once' I did not expect that force would be required."

  The taciturn Salient wrinkled his lips. "Brother Kloa'geo has a reputation for ... intransigence, Preeminence."

  "I see."

  As big and as muscular as the Salients who had brought him, Archivist Kloa'geo did not fit the typical scholarly profile. In fact, to Traeleon's experienced eye the tall, rust-haired man had the stance and presence of a trained armsman and surely had once been one.

  When his escorts released him, Kloa'geo took the time to straighten his robe before swiveling to face the Archdeacon with a somewhat disagreeable expression.

  "My apologies for the delay, Preeminence. I was in the midst of some delicate calculations. My cloister is sorely understaffed and any absence causes the work to languish."

  In general, junior brethren approached the august person of the Archdeacon with either fawning reverence, in the case of the misguided true believers, or measured respect, in the case of those with a rational understanding of the true nature of the Brotherhood. Brother Kloa'geo displayed neither. While his words had not been insubordinate, both his demeanor and his tone implied reproach. Clearly, he considered a summons from the leader of the Brotherhood to be of much less importance than his own work, but was intelligent enough to understand that saying so would be a dangerous act.

  Under normal circumstances, Traeleon would have ordered quick punishment for such open effrontery, but here he judged that magnanimity would be the more effective course for his purposes.

  "Indeed? It is perhaps the subject of those calculations that interests me. I understand that you observe the movements of the Cousins."

  The Archivist brightened with sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, yes, Preeminence! I have come to believe that the small moons are crafted objects and --"

  "You are correct. They are Holy Relics from the age of magic. I wish that they be continually observed at any time that they appear in the sky. What resources will you require to accomplish this task?"

  Kloa'geo looked taken aback. "Why ... more brethren to watch the sky, of course. And more of the reproductions of the far seeing Relic. Depending upon their cycle, one or both of the Cousins can be visible in some part of the sky for much of the day and night and it would be necessary to constantly maintain shifts of at least two observers so that --"

  "See that this is done on my authority," Traeleon interrupted again. While Kloa'geo might have the appearance of an armsman, it was clear that he, if permitted, would ramble on like the best of the Archivists.

  "As you say, Preeminence." Kloa'geo paused as if in thought, then asked, "Is there some particular event that we should look for?"

  "If anything should leave the Cousins, I am to be informed immediately."

  Kloa'geo's eyes shifted from side to side. "Preeminence, are you suggesting the Cousin's are inhabited?"

  "It was not a suggestion. This is a matter of high priority, Subdeacon, and you should begin immediately."

  After Kloa'geo had scurried away, delighted at the unexpected boon, Bhrucherra asked, "These inhabitants of the Cousins -- should I presume them to be a threat?"

  "Everything is a threat, brother. Everything."

  NINE

  143rd Year of the Reign of the City

  Tenthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

  The Monolith

  Lady Rhavaelei threw her shovel load onto the pony cart, stopped for a moment to use a rag from the pocket of her trousers to wipe dust and sweat from her face, and then followed the line of the other workers back to the heap of rubble that had blocked the thoroughfare.

  With everyone else, she had run outside when the tremors had begun. While the earth had danced, she had crouched in the open courtyard of the residence hall with a group of terrified women, children, and off-duty armsmen.

  The upheaval had lasted as much as a quarter of an hour, punctuated by numerous sounds of distant collapse, and then, as abruptly as it had begun, it had ceased. The residence hall, new construction on ancient foundations, had suffered only a few shattered flower pots and windows.

  With the others in the courtyard struggling with confusion and shock in the minutes immediately following, Rhavaelei had straightaway begun to organize a group to check the rooms of the hall for damage. In spite of her reduced status as a prisoner in all but name, the marines, legionnaires, and dependents had all proved eager to comply with her suggestions. After the structure had been determined to be sound and the dependents sent back to their rooms, it had been easy to convince the ranking armsman, a ceannaire named Bhoata, that half a dozen older marines and legionnaires should be left to guard and oversee the residence hall while the rest, with Rhavaelei leading the way, should move out to determine if anyone in the immediate area was in need of aid.

  They had gone only a few dozen yards along the main street of the pocket neighborhood before they had encountered frantic citizens and once again she had immediately set to, sorting order from the chaos.

  In the process, she had used her own hands to dig victims out of collapsed houses, carried water to douse a fire that had started in a smithy, sat with children until parents could be located, advised a local councilor with a broken arm on the priority of securing clean water and food for everyone bereft of lodging, and organized teams of messengers to establish communication with adjacent neighborhoods and the Monolith's central authorities at the skyship docks.

  Ceannaire Bhoata and the seven armsmen with him had taken it for granted that she was in charge and the civilians and armsmen from the neighborhood had likewise accepted her authority without question. Towards the end of the day, a legate and two quads of legionnaires had arrived at the command post that she had established in a large plaza. This very young junior officer had relieved her of her duties, but had presented a polite request from the Viceroy that she return as soon as was convenient in the morning to once again take charge until such time as another officer could be dispa
tched to the neighborhood.

  Readily agreeing, Rhavaelei had departed to return to the residence hall but had stopped after only two blocks to assist a crew of civilians that had gathered to clear the thoroughfare of a masonry wall that had given way in a tardy secondary collapse.

  With the sun dipping lower in the sky, Rhavaelei continued to work, diligently and without complaint, and when the way was open, she shared hugs and handshakes all around with the men and women with whom she had labored and then continued.

  As she strode through the gate into the courtyard, the two legionnaires standing guard came smartly to attention and saluted her. Her only response was to smile and wave in a friendly fashion. In the courtyard, a communal supper had been prepared and an older woman made her sit and eat a meal of stewed vegetables and yesterday's bread. The tremor was the only topic of conversation at the crowded table and Rhavaelei was immediately, but respectfully, questioned about all that she had seen and done. She freely shared her experiences and promised to convey any news that she might receive on the morrow.

  It was only after she was finally behind the closed door of the small room to which Captain Harkryn's sailors had delivered her on Eighthday that she allowed herself to relax and shed her false mien of conviviality. Playing the egalitarian to her social and political inferiors was something that she did quite well, but it had always rankled. It was absolutely necessary, however, given her current situation and lack of influence.

  As she began to undress for the small cot that was her bed, the wizard stepped into view, seemingly from the reflection made by the light of her lamp off a shiny patch of plaster.

  "I see that you had no trouble convincing Captain Harkryn to delay his departure," Zso said as he stared brazenly at her uncovered bosom.

  Rhavaelei did not flinch under his gaze. A man that could be easily distracted by a woman's body was subject to easy manipulation. "I used the simple expedient of vomiting on his shoes. Twice."

  "I trust that now that you have seen full evidence of my abilities that you will be amenable to continued joint efforts."

  "I will advise my husband as you have suggested. Is there something else necessary to achieve the future that you prefer?"

  "Futures are like fields of pits and traps that constantly shift and change."

  "And you are the man with the maps?"

  "Such is the curse and blessing of wizardry."

  "What is it that you require of me, wizard?"

  "For the proper things to be said in the proper ears at the proper times."

  "And you will guide me as to what these proper things, ears, and times are?"

  "Of course."

  Rhavaelei contemplated the wizard for a moment. He clearly thought that he was in command of the situation and she saw no advantage in correcting that mistake. "To what would you guide me in return?"

  "To all that your heart desires."

  "My desires have no bounds."

  The wizard laughed. "Neither does wizardry."

  TEN

  17th Year of the Phaelle’n Ascension, 349th Day of Glorious Work

  Year One of the New Age of Magic

  (Eleventhday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)

  Plythtwaelndt Fortress, north of Mhevyr

  Traeleon slammed his fist onto the table around which his five surviving senior commanders had gathered. The loud bang echoed around the room.

  "Tell Whorlyr that I command him to advance to secure the bridge!"

  Bhrucherra, to Traeleon's right, gave no reaction to the outburst. The Salient officers at the table and the junior brethren working as technicians in the hall grew quiet and still. Stationed in pairs at the doors and at points that allowed them to cover the entire room, the ten Salient guards, all battle-hardened zealots of unquestionable loyalty, placed hands to their bolt throwers.

  Realizing that his lack of control had been a fundamental misstep, the Archdeacon drew in the reins of his anger and forced himself to speak calmly. "Send the message, Brother Adl'strs."

  Sweat visibly beading upon his forehead, the young far talking disk operator -- hardly more than an adolescent -- repeated the order word for word into his instrument. It was a full minute before he gave indication that he had heard a reply in his headset. "Brother Whorlyr acknowledges the command."

  Anger reignited, Traeleon restrained yet another impulse to shout. "Does that mean that he is or he is not going to obey?"

  A brief look of panic flashed across Novitiate Second Adl'strs' face. "Shall I seek a clarification, Preeminence?"

  Bhrucherra held up a palm to draw Traeleon's attention. He drew a breath, let it out slowly, then nodded at the First Inquisitor.

  "Director Whorlyr has only three teams at his disposal. Brother Khimech's men are equipped with bolt throwers, but superior weaponry alone will not permit them to successfully stage an assault should the Imperials prove to be present in force on the bridge. Should the bridge prove undefended, the Martial Director's group is not sufficient to establish and hold a defensible position on the open span. At best, they might construct an improvised barricade, but any such would be easily breached."

  Traeleon pursed his lips. All that Bhrucherra had said was patently true. "What do you suggest?"

  "If you wish to seize and hold the bridge, it will be necessary to immediately dispatch a significant force -- I would estimate that it should be no less than ten Salient cloisters -- through the Emerald Gate. However, even should this force achieve the objective, it would be subject to easy encirclement if the Imperials, as they would be expected to do, crossed the river to the north and south. If that happens, we should expect significant casualties unless the reinforcements were ordered to make a quick withdrawal, which would negate the initial reason for their dispatch."

  Traeleon hid a frown. As a fundamental principle, he knew that reliably supplying and reinforcing a far forward position solely by means of the intermittent Emerald Gate was not practical. The cargo carriers were extremely vulnerable by design and until more algars and trained crew were available to secure and defend a convoy route, an overland link could not be relied upon. As Bhrucherra had implied, Whorlyr and any Salients that Traeleon sent after him would in all likelihood be expended to no purpose.

  The simple truth was that the Brotherhood could not at this moment afford to sacrifice any more veteran Salients. Another major loss might force Traeleon to abandon Mhevyr and withdraw from the Imperial mainland altogether.

  That humiliating setback could encourage the unconfirmed but suspected remnants of the assassination plot to try again.

  Or, worse, suggest to the ranking hierarchies of the Colleges, who were already distrustful of his decision not to immediately reconstitute the Full Conclave, that he was less than competent.

  He knew that there were already a number who contended in whispers that he should be replaced.

  "Preeminence, I have a suggestion," Senior Commander-of-Cloisters Augo offered.

  Augo was a Combatant, unlike the other four officers at the table who were all Tacticians or Strategists. Most of the high ranking Combatant officers had been with Whorlyr's advance. Augo, who had lost his left foot and right arm up to the shoulder some years previous, was the titular commander of the fortress.

  "I have already determined, as Brother Bhrucherra has suggested," Traeleon forewarned him, "that it would be indeed foolish to reinforce Marshal Director Whorlyr with Salients,"

  "As you say, Preeminence, but I was not going to suggest that we deploy our precious trained brethren. At the port in Mhevyr, the two tribute legions from Khai'loagh are in temporary quarters."

  "Preeminence, the Emerald Gate cannot possibly transport two thousand superstitious armsmen unfamiliar with the procedures before its reserve is exhausted," Senior Assault Brother Dh'bin'is'meag countered. "With all due respect, I believe we should preserve the capabilities of the Holy Relic for a more productive use."

  "This caution is valid," Traeleo
n agreed. "And we must not risk any of the remaining algars at this stage."

  "The surviving cargo carriers from the Martial Director's severed supply train could be employed as transports," Bhrucherra allowed. "Each could hold up to a dozen legionnaires and their equipment and supplies. If they started within the hour and drove through the night, they could reach the vicinity of Lhinstord by morning. It might be advisable to offload them in Parill, the last major town before the city. The town's buildings might offer some semblance of protection."

  "The conscripts from Mhevyr are currently training here," Senior Assault Brother B'lh contributed. "They do not constitute a full legion -- I believe they number some three hundred."

  "The Mhevyrii show no enthusiasm for their training," Augo revealed. "Their utility in the field would be limited."

  "Are there enough cargo carriers to transport the Mhevyrii as well?" Traeleon asked Bhrucherra.

  The First Inquisitor nodded. "Rope seats could be attached to the sides. As long as the men kept a proper grip, they would get there."

  Traeleon made his decision. "Have this done."

  "As you say, Preeminence."

  He turned to Novitiate Adl'strs. "Send this to Director of Forces Whorlyr: Remain in constant communication. Immediately report any contact with the enemy. If confronted with overwhelming force, withdraw behind Lhinstord. Reinforcements have been dispatched."

  ELEVEN

  2001 by the Common Reckoning

  (3380 Before the Founding of the Empire)

  A monastery that has never had a name

  Sitting between two of his very attentive simulacra concubines, Zso watched with disdain as the agitated and chattering monks compared and cross referenced the currently focused segments of the Scroll.

  The relentless monks were essential to the task. Reading the ether to divine potential futures was a specialized skill that he did not possess to any practical degree. But he had never made any attempt to hide his contempt for their nauseating propensity for endless deliberation.