"I am flattered."
From outside the tent flap came the unmistakable sound of a spear being thumped against a shield.
"Curses!” Tarion said, pushing his body servant off his body. “Just when things were starting to become interesting! See what he wants."
Dosh rose, straightened his hair, adjusted his loincloth, and took the oil bottle with him.
Tarion sat up, hearing the Joalian voice outside summoning him to the battlemaster's tent. He had half expected this, and of course he must go. He would be very surprised if his beloved half brother Golbfish was not the first item on the agenda.
The camp was not large enough to justify riding; the two men walked. With the sun now dipping toward Nagwall, the temperature was becoming bearable, but Kolgan Coadjutant set a very leisurely pace. When the second-in-command of the Joalian army came in person to conduct a mere Nagian to a meeting, one could reasonably assume that he had an ulterior motive. Tarion was now Nagian heir designate and Kolgan was an important Joalian politician. They had never spoken in private before.
The camp bustled all around them. Troopleaders were drilling long-shadowed squads on the dusty plain; moas were mewing for their evening meal. Smoke trickled up reluctantly from cooking fires.
"How soon do you expect the final contingents from Joalvale, sir?” Tarion inquired politely.
"In a few days.” Kolgan was very tall, and even his armor failed to make him look broad. He had a hatchet face and a reddish beard.
"I hope we shall move out at once. The enemy must know about us by now."
The tall man chuckled. “And the army is eating the heart out of your capital?” Tents ran off in rows for miles, enough to hold five thousand hungry men.
"Certainly. Mother will have to raise taxes to pay for it.” On the other hand, the crown's levy on brothels must be paying royally just now.
"Ah. But the queen's health distresses us all. That unpopular task may fall to her successor."
"Or, if Karzon favors our cause,” Tarion prompted, “loot from Lemodvale may solve the problem?” But would the Joalians let the Nagians have a significant share?
"Possibly,” Kolgan said vaguely. “Do you know how I got to be where I am, Tarion Cavalryleader?” He glanced down with a meaningful glint in his eye.
"Not in detail,” Tarion said diplomatically, “but I have heard how the people's assembly in Joal rejected the Clique's nominee for the position of coadjutant and demanded you instead. Riot was threatened. A great tribute to your reputation, of course."
"A great tribute to graft. I have no military experience to speak of. I had been sponsoring public games on a scale not seen for many years."
The People's Assembly was the ultimate authority in Joal, but it was very expensive to buy. Tarion distrusted candor. Candor was dangerous to both candorer and candoree. “How wonderfully public-spirited of you!"
"I staked everything I possessed and everything I could borrow. Unless I return gloriously victorious and loaded with loot, then I am a ruined man."
"We must trust in the gods and the justice of our cause,” Tarion said, wondering what this frankness could possibly be leading up to.
Kolgan's angular face twisted in a grin—or possibly a sneer. It was hard to tell under his helmet. “And you, Prince? How did you come to be where you are?"
Candor was for others. “Mother has long believed that I would make a better king than my poor brother."
"Quite!” Kolgan Coadjutant snapped. “But her Joalian allies have never agreed with that viewpoint. Our distinguished ambassador recently switched his support to you—in direct breach of the Clique's instructions."
"He did,” Tarion agreed blandly. The Joalian ambassador was effectively the resident Joalian governor of Nagland, although one did not say so openly. Bondvaan was another devious politician, a human snake.
The commander's tent was in sight now. Kammaeman had appropriated the best campsite, under the only decent shade trees. He was sitting on a stool, still wearing armor and watching his subordinates approach. Beside him sat that very same Bondvaan.
"Three years ago,” Kolgan said, “the old man spent five million stars, bribing the Clique to appoint him. I am sure he has made it all back by now."
"In his first ten fortnights here, or so he boasts."
"Well, then!” Kolgan said triumphantly. “Bribery on his scale would be well beyond your means. How did you work it?"
"Mother persuaded him."
This time the sneer was unmistakable. “That is not what I heard. I had hoped we might exchange confidences, Tarion Cavalryleader."
Tarion sighed. “What did you hear?"
"He is a notorious lecher. He hosts orgies of the foulest perversions. What his age makes impossible for him personally now, he stages to watch. I heard you participated in certain memorable performances at his residence."
Tarion had never found a smile harder. “I am no prude, but I prefer not to be reminded of those nights.” Candor!
"Understandably!” The tall man chuckled coarsely. “Great causes require great sacrifices?"
"Yes."
"Do we appreciate each other now? Do you know why I dismissed the messenger and came for you myself?"
Tarion gritted his teeth. “Of course. Kammaeman Battlemaster must be aware of your need for personal glory. A wise Joalian commander never turns his back on his deputy. By arriving with me, you are undermining my reliability in his eyes, and thus hope to enlist me to your side."
Kolgan laughed. “We do understand each other! Let us make an agreement, then. Help me come out on top in this and I shall give you Bondvaan Ambassador's privates on a plate. Interested?"
"Fervently,” Tarion said. “Fried."
The guards let the visitors pass. They came to a halt and saluted the man who was at the moment autocrat of Nagland. Kammaeman's word could stop any heart in the vale.
He was close to sixty, a seasoned warrior. He must also be one of the most successful and ruthless politicians in Joal, as he had hung on to his membership in the Clique for more than ten years. The fact that he had dared take command of the army in person and thus absent himself from the city showed how firm his grip must be. He was physically powerful, too. His armor covered his torso and shins, but his bearlike, matted arms and thighs were exposed. Dust and sweat had muddied in the wrinkles in his weathered face and in his beard. His eyes were inflamed by the sun. He nodded at the newcomers without rising or even offering them a seat, although there were stools standing unused at his back.
Beside him—silver-haired, short, and blubbery—Bondvaan Ambassador favored Tarion with a buttery smile that awakened memories to make his skin crawl.
Kammaeman was peering up at him from under grizzled brows thicker than many men's mustaches. Black hairs sprouted from his ears and nostrils.
"Did you enjoy the ceremony today, Cavalryleader?"
Kolgan alone had been bad enough. Tarion braced himself to deal with three of them. “I hope someday to wean my people from ritual scarring, sir. It is a holdover from our barbaric past and contrary to the enlightened civilization that Joal has brought us, for which we are all so grateful. However, the sight of blood excites me, and you certainly cannot doubt the young men's courage."
"I can doubt their sanity. Did you find the conclusion at all surprising?"
"Astonishing!” It would be more truthful to call the conclusion deeply disappointing. Some blood would be more exciting than others. “I never suspected my brother of such patriotism."
Without even looking, Tarion could sense the smirk on Bondvaan's suety face. Oh, he must be pleased! The Joalians still had a second string to their bow in Nag.
"That was not quite what I ... Ah!” Kammaeman gestured for Tarion and Kolgan to step aside. “Here comes the man I want to see."