“Why is it quiet? Why has the bombardment ceased?”
“Captain Trevor needed to cool down the bombard, so he had to interrupt the firing after the second tower came down. That was only a few hours ago, my lord. Trevor is down in the great room below and reports the cannon is nearly ready to resume.”
“Good. Then tell him-”
“Excuse me, my lord,” Templar said boldly. Jaymes stared at him in silence. “But there comes another mission from Vingaard. This time it is led by Lord Kerrigan’s daughter, Marrinys. She begs an audience with you. And, my lord, I sincerely hope-on my own, and by the grace of Kiri-Jolith-that you will meet with her.”
The emperor thought for a moment. Always a swift riser, he had no fog of sleep to shake away but instead reflected on the violent events of the previous day and the long night of bombardment. “Very well. Have her come up.”
A moment later a petite young woman, barely five feet tall, came through the door onto the balcony. In the growing daylight, Jaymes guessed her to be about sixteen years old; she had dark, curling hair and slightly swarthy skin, clearly inherited from her father. He noted, with passing interest, that she was extremely pretty.
He also noted that her jaw was set firmly. But she seemed determined to keep her composure; she curtsied politely before addressing him.
“I have come to offer our submission, my lord emperor,” she said, “and to plead for your mercy. Surely you can see that you have mastered us. What need is there to inflict more damage?”
“Where is your ne’er-do-well brother?” asked Jaymes. “I should have thought that such an offer would come from him.”
She lifted her chin proudly, looking him squarely in the eyes. “He has left the city, my lord. He has chosen to become an outlaw.”
“You didn’t try very hard to stop him, did you?”
“What could I do?” she asked innocently. “Besides, my desire-my sole desire-is to stop the destruction… and to bring my father’s body back home so that we may bury him properly.”
Jaymes winced at her comment. He didn’t want to recall the ignominious death of her father. Shaking his head as if to banish the thought from his memory, he looked down at the young woman. For some reason he wanted her to know the truth.
“My orders were to arrest Lord Kerrigan. His death was an accident; he charged onto the sword held by one of the guards. I did not order him killed.”
“But he is dead?”
“Yes. His body has been prepared for burial and is even now being carried respectfully in one of the wagons of my train.”
“What do you plan to do now?”
“The bombard is ready to commence a barrage against the third tower. It was my intention to smash them all, as a lesson to all that could not be mistaken by anyone in Solamnia.”
“Surely that lesson has already made its impression, great lord! I promise, we in Vingaard will remember this day forever!”
Jaymes looked away. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache. It was harder to deflect the arguments of the girl than it would have been to debate her foolish brother, or the fierce nobleman, her father.
“I will only cease the destruction when I am convinced that you understand something.”
“And what is that, Excellency? Please, tell me!”
“You need to understand that I did this for your own good!” he snapped, turning suddenly and looming over her.
Marrinys flinched but did not step away. Instead, she continued to meet his glare and spoke in a strangely different voice, with the real courage that was part of her heritage. “How can we understand that? Explain it-please, my lord!”
He sat down, gesturing to another chair. After a moment’s hesitation, she took the other chair, sitting straight, knees together, hands clasped in her lap. She continued to look at him, eyes shining.
For some reason, he found her youthfulness, the naivete of her expression, strangely compelling. He really did want her to understand his good intentions.
“Solamnia is a nation again-a single, united entity. It has not been such for more than a thousand years, and it will not remain so for long unless we all sacrifice, unless we all put our shoulders to the wheel of the common good.”
“I see,” Marrinys replied seriously. “I understand-it was a mistake to defy you. I know that my people understand that too.”
“It was not the defiance of me; it was the refusal to work toward the great future of our nation! This refusal cannot be allowed to stand!”
“I give you my promise. I understand, and I will work hard to make sure that the people of my city understand as well. But you must- please, you must! — stop the destruction while there is still some of the keep left standing!”
Jaymes closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his temples. The sun was cresting the eastern horizon, and he suddenly felt very tired. He couldn’t stand the thought of another explosion from the bombard. He wanted to believe Marrinys.
And so he did believe her.
“Very well,” he said. “The bombardment will halt. You can return to Vingaard, and bear your father’s body with you. My officers and I will arrive to accept your capitulation in two hours.”
Ankhar had good reason to be pleased. He had recruited a splendid army, with every savage warrior pledged to serve and obey the half-giant and his interpretation of the Truth. The great column had marched back and forth throughout Lemish, growing in numbers as it accrued from every tribe, every town and village. Eagerly the savage citizens of the barbarian lands gave him tribute, feted him and his legion, contributed more and more volunteers to his ranks.
He noticed with some surprise that his belly, the lumpy gut that had bulged over his belt, had grown flat and lean again. His legs had been weary, his feet sore during the first week of marching, but finally they were muscular and strong, sturdy as tree trunks. Even his mind seemed quicker. Pond-Lily flattered him continually, gushing about his prowess-in all endeavors-and he began to feel like a godlike champion once more.
Moving north and east, Ankhar even recruited from some of the restless ogre bands on the borderlands of Throtl-he had never used them as troops before, but they knew of his reputation and were eager to believe his promises of pillage, of riches and slaves. The young bulls were drawn from far and wide. Thousands upon thousands swelled his following. And, with Pond-Lily standing to one side and Laka on the other, Ankhar sat upon a great chair and reviewed his recruits. And he was pleased.
They were heading back to the west, coming up against the foothills of the Garnet Range. The half-giant relished the smell of the wind blowing down from the high country, for it bore the scents he had known all his life. The ogress Pond-Lily had followed him uncomplainingly for all of their long march, and Ankhar felt generous and expansive as they came into those familiar, sweet-smelling hills. He hugged the ogress to his side with his brawny left arm, threw back his head, and bellowed in exultation.
“Est Sudanus oth Nikkas!” he roared, waving his emerald-tipped spear over his head. He was heartened by the great swelling of cheers from the ogres and hobgoblins who marched in the long, undulating file behind Pond-Lily, Ankhar, and Laka.
“You are remembering your first home, now.” Laka cackled. “But you are a mighty king and can make a home anywhere in the world you choose.”
“There are few places better than these mountains,” Ankhar reflected.
“Bah!” Laka scolded. “Many places better! You just need better army to take them.”
“How? Where can I get better army?” bristled the big half-giant, dropping Pond-Lily-who recovered with surprising grace, bouncing only a couple of times-as he turned to the withered, fiercely grinning shaman.