“It is — I do not like to break nartil in this way,” Tegestu said, obviously unhappy. “But it is declared angu, there are no courtesies between such enemies. I will do what I can.”
“Good, good,” Necias said, a grin curling his lips. He reached out a hand and patted Tegestu’s armored knee. “Good man,” he said. He glanced up at Campas.
“There are other holes in Tastis’ armor,” he said. “The deissin and bankers aren’t without influence, and the flenssin aren’t invulnerable to bribery. All we need is for a small company to take a gate and hold it for a few minutes. Neda-Calacas is composed of two big cities, with four harbors between them; there are lots of places for people to get in and out. A little prearrangement, a little gold, and we’ll have everything but the keep — maybe even that.
“But we’ll have to move quickly,” he added. He glanced at Tegestu, seeing the old warrior stolid behind his frozen mask of calculated ferocity. “We’ve got to get the army to Neda-Calacas as quickly as we can — force march if we have to. Before Tastis can arrange things to suit his convenience again.”
Tegestu bowed. “It will mean being less careful,” he said, “but it can be done safely enough. Tastis’ army is not harmless, but he can’t strike us hard, not without new strength from the city. But he will raid us, Abessu-Denorru, and there may be a few surprises.”
“We’ll take the risk,” Necias said.
“May your arm never fail,” Tegestu said, and bowed again.
“Proclamations to the barons — we’ll need those,” Necias said briskly, standing and rubbing his hands. “Tell ’em we’re here, hey, that their rights will be respected, that Tastis is finished.” He reached for the goblet and drank the last of the wine, beaming happily down at Tegestu and Campas, satisfied that things were moving his way at last, that at last, in spite of some nasty shocks, he was beginning to comprehend the flow of events. The Hundred-Year Peace, he thought; he might still be able to salvage it.
With, of course, the help of a little gold, and a little treason in the right places.
CHAPTER 14
Tastis’ forces faded from the ford an hour after Tegestu’s first bridges were thrown across five miles downstream, and though Tegestu pushed Tastis hard the armies of Arrandal never managed to catch their enemy. There were, as Tegestu had predicted, raids here and there, on the baggage trains, on isolated columns; the raids were of mixed success but even the worst did not delay the march.
Barons holed up in their strongholds were bypassed, but most threw open their gates and welcomed the Arrandalla, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, as friends. The army forged on, presumably to the barons’ relief, until it came to yet another river and another castle perched on a bluff.
It was troublesome, this little outpost on the West Rallandas. Knowing that their commerce depended heavily on control of the rivers and canals, the cities had conquered and destroyed most of the baronial keeps that could threaten the flow of trade, and the rest had been reduced by treaty or garrisoned by city troops. This small castle was one of the latter.
There it perched on its rock, right at the curve of the river where it could command barge traffic, a half-bowshot from the principal ford. The West Rallandas was easier than the East; it was slower and shallower and more fordable — but the other fords were not as convenient, and so Tegestu readied his assault on the castle and called on the garrison to surrender. Even if they refused, he calculated, it would not hold for longer than three days.
If they surrendered he would grant them the honors of war, allowing them safe conduct to Neda-Calacas. If not they would be exterminated, and presumably they knew it.
An officer in charge announced that he would surrender — Tegestu’s heart eased — but then produced a strange condition. He would give up the keys of the castle to none other than Tegestu Dellila Doren y’Pranoth in person, and only after being allowed to speak privately with him for the space of half an hour.
An assassin, Tegestu thought, and a clumsy one; but then the officer announced he was prepared to come unarmored and that he would willingly be searched for weapons first. Tegestu thought again. Perhaps, he concluded, this young man was a foe of Tastis; perhaps he was the one the Abessu-Denorru was looking for, the man who would open, in addition to the gates of the fort, the gates of the city.
And who was the man who made such demands? Aptan Tepesta Laches y’Pranoth, he called from the low battlements — Tegestu realized with a start that this was one of Tastis’ sons. Could a son be a traitor? But neither would Tastis ask one of his heirs to draw an assassin’s weapon: Aptan would be too valuable to throw away on such duty.
For a moment Tegestu considered throwing his forces against the castle now, hoping to seize Tastis’ son as hostage... he might be worth the losses. But no, he thought; Aptan would have instructions to have one of his men hack off his head before he allowed himself to be captured. The losses would be for nothing. Curiosity gnawed at him — and of course the castle would be surrendered that much more quickly.
And so Tegestu consented. A canvas awning was set up before the castle, well out of bowshot, and the besieging army withdrew a pace. Under its shade two stools were set. The gates of the castle opened a crack and a man came out — a slender, smiling, good-natured lad, it seemed, walking with open arms to where Cascan and his cathruni waited. The search was thorough, and a little rough: when Aptan walked to his stool, his hair mussed from being unbraided to discover strangling wires, he didn’t seem nearly as cheerful as when he’d first come out of the castle.
Then Tegestu came out, armored, with weapons ready to hand. His guards halting just out of earshot, he walked to the place appointed: the stools were still three paces apart. They faced one another, and then Aptan bowed.
“May your demmin ever increase, drandor Tegestu,” he said. He inclined his head, his tolhostu broken by a slight, rueful smile. “My compliments on the efficiency of your cathruni.”
“They know their duty, ban-demmin,” Tegestu said. “Sit and deliver your message.”
Aptan bowed and sat, his face still showing his small, appreciative grin. Tegestu lowered himself heavily to the stool, a shiver of pain running through the muscles of his upper thighs as, for a second only, they took his weight.
“I am charged with a kantu-kamliss matter,” Aptan said, “from bro-demmin Tastis Senestu Tepesta y’Pranoth, drandor y Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Neda, to Tegestu Dellila Doren y’Pranoth, drandor y Kamliss-Pranoth-sa-Arrandal.’’
Another kantu-kamliss matter, Tegestu thought sourly. The ban would keep him from reporting the substance of this conversation to Necias, which, no doubt, was what Tastis had in mind.
“Speak,” Tegestu said shortly, then held up a hand.
“Confine yourself to matters relating strictly to kamliss Pranoth, however,” he added. “I will not see the holy label of kantu-kamliss assigned frivolously.”
Aptan, seemingly a little surprised, bowed hastily. “May your arm never fail, bro-demmin,” he said, “I hope you will keep me on the right track, should I stray from it.”
“I shall, ban-demmin Aptan,” Tegestu said grimly. “Never fear.”
Aptan sat back for a moment, apparently considering the proper opening; then he nodded, presumably to himself, and spoke. “Our kamliss,” Aptan said, “is divided. Most of Pranoth serves Arrandal; the rest rules Neda and Calacas with the help of its allies. In both places, Pranoth voices are the first to speak among the Brodaini, and they speak with the greatest authority.” He paused, his green eyes looking with curiosity at Tegestu as if waiting for him to agree; but Tegestu remained gravely silent. Let the boy say his piece, he thought.