“I’m afraid I have some troubling news to report,” the Babachenko said. “Titus Grant has escaped our custody, along with his wife. The High Overseer is handling the matter himself, so I expect a quick resolution.”
“I see,” Alexander said, looking off the battlement into the distance for several moments. When the Babachenko started to fidget, Alexander nodded to himself.
“Perhaps this is an opportunity. Grant has his own agenda, to be sure, but he also has a well-funded organization. If we knew what he was planning, maybe we could mislead him into serving our interests.”
“An excellent suggestion, Lord Reishi. I’ll make the arrangements,” the Babachenko said.
Alexander stepped up close. The Babachenko tensed almost imperceptibly, another faint shimmer of fear lighting up his colors.
“Making your enemy do your bidding is the sweetest part of power, don’t you think?” he whispered, stepping past him to survey the men assembled as his escort.
“Perhaps introductions are in order,” he said, casually.
“Of course, Lord Reishi,” the Babachenko said, spinning quickly and stepping up on his right. “Your party is comprised of our very best: Lord Protector Kagosi, Royal Assassin Yasim, and Chief Overseers Bahar and Jago. A dozen Lancers will accompany you as well.”
The Babachenko’s colors may have been less than useful lately, but these men couldn’t hide their essential nature. The Babachenko would describe them as nobles, but their colors were anything but.
“Excellent, I trust that you gentlemen understand what’s at stake,” Alexander said. “We must not fail and we must not delay. Lord Protector, take me to my steed.”
The big battle-scarred Acuna mage nodded slowly. “By your command, Lord Reishi.”
Alexander ignored the rest of the party as if they were beneath him, even though he knew that all four of these men were deadly in the extreme. The Lancers waiting for them at the base of the cliff had two rhone for each man and they’d also sent word ahead to Lancer outposts along the way to have fresh steeds ready. It wasn’t long before they were out on the open road riding toward the western province with all possible haste.
Alexander would have preferred a horse, but no aspiring emperor of the world would choose an inferior steed, even if it would have been faster. While they rode, he mused about how cumbersome it was to live in a web of lies.
The rhone were powerful but lacked the endurance of horses, so the party had to stop to switch steeds frequently, arriving at a small Lancer outpost just before dark. It was little more than a stone wall surrounding a courtyard and a tower, but it housed a platoon of Lancers and plenty of spare rhone.
Alexander pretended to inspect the fortifications, the Lord Protector trailing behind him everywhere he went. He wound up on top of the tower with a very nervous watchman. Alexander looked out into the night, picking out the black, inky colors of Vasili Nero hiding in the shadows not far from camp. Farther out, just at the edge of his all around sight, were the telltale smudges of color that represented two groups of men camped at a good distance from each other, each following Alexander and his escort.
“Lord Protector Kagosi, I trust you’re aware that we’re being followed,” Alexander said without turning.
He hesitated, uncertainty and guile swirling in his colors. “Yes, Lord Reishi. The Babachenko sent a reserve force to trail us.”
“A wise precaution, but that doesn’t account for the second party,” Alexander said.
Kagosi seemed genuinely surprised. “I was not aware of a second party. Are you certain?” he asked, stepping up next to Alexander and peering into the night.
Alexander pointed in the direction of the enemy encampment. “Half a league.”
“I’ll send scouts at once,” Kagosi said, turning on his heel and marching down the tower stairs. A few minutes later, two teams of three Lancers each thundered into the night.
“About as subtle as a battering ram,” Alexander thought to Chloe.
“Who do you think the other group is?”
“Probably Tyr … could be Grant; it’s hard to say.”
Kagosi returned to the tower, taking his place watching Alexander under the pretext of guarding him.
“Our following force has been ordered to engage the enemy and route them.”
“Excellent,” Alexander said, heading down the tower to his tent. He noted the four men standing guard, as well as Royal Assassin Yasim, who was sitting in a chair beside the entrance. Yasim stood, nodding almost imperceptibly. Alexander ignored them all and went to bed.
He woke in the night and slipped out of his tent, tapping Yasim on the shoulder, drawing his attention with a start. Alexander held a finger across his lips. Yasim nodded.
“Nero is just outside the camp,” Alexander whispered. “I’m going to kill him, and I want you to come with me.”
Yasim did an admirable job of schooling his expression, but his colors were another matter: fear, uncertainty, confused loyalties. After a brief internal struggle, he nodded once, then spoke with the guards, instructing them to hold their position as if Alexander was still in the tent.
Yasim motioned for silence as they approached the gate guard. After a whispered conversation, the guard slowly and quietly opened the gate just enough for Alexander and Yasim to slip out. A quarter moon, low in the sky, provided scant illumination. Alexander moved slowly toward Nero’s position, while watching Yasim closely.
The Royal Assassin seemed distracted until Nero stepped out from behind a boulder thirty feet away.
“So now what, Pretender? You may have fooled these idiots, but I know better.”
Alexander drew his sword.
“Oh, would that I could kill you now, but Master would be most displeased … him on the other hand …” Nero vanished, reappearing twenty feet closer, long black knife drawn.
“Back to back,” Alexander shouted to Yasim. The assassin obeyed, dagger in hand.
Alexander stretched out with his mind into the coming seconds, spinning at the last possible moment, pushing Yasim aside and thrusting into Nero’s head. His blade fell on Nero’s helmet, glancing aside, knocking Nero back but doing little damage. The wraithkin vanished again.
Yasim seemed to disappear into the shadows even as Alexander heard him scramble to his feet. Alexander spun, slicing at neck height and catching Nero with just the last inch of steel across his throat the moment he materialized. His eyes went wide and he vanished again, this time twenty feet away. When he materialized again, he was running toward the west.
Yasim seemed to step out of the shadows. “You saved me,” he said.
“Or I used you as bait,” Alexander said, “it all depends on your perspective.”
Yasim cocked his head, regarding Alexander intently, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Your gambit nearly worked. A bold attempt.”
Alexander wiped the blood from the slightly blunted tip of his sword and nodded to himself. “Nearly.”
Sounds of rhone in the distance filtered through the night.
“The Lord Protector has become aware of your absence,” Yasim said.
A few minutes later, they were quickly surrounded by Lancers.
The Lord Protector pushed into the circle and confronted Alexander. “Explain yourself!” he demanded.
Alexander regarded him coolly for several moments. “Lord Protector, I would be happy to brief you on the failings of your security, but not here. Give me a steed.”
The Lord Protector took a deep breath and let it out slowly before snapping at the nearest Lancer to surrender his mount.
They returned to the keep where Alexander recounted the fight with Nero. After Yasim supported his account, Alexander left without a word and went back to his tent, wondering where Nero had gone and when he was going to show up again.
The next morning brought rain and a decidedly different kind of treatment from the Lancers and even the more elite members of his escort. Alexander surmised that an account of the fight with Nero had filtered through the barracks, because most of the junior Lancers wouldn’t look him in the eye when he passed. They were afraid.