Beyond the Shadows
Page 87
She burst into tears, and there was truth in how she clung to him.
Logan sat in his new throne. He had given the artisans three weeks to deliver it, and the men had barely met the deadline. He had wanted it simple, sturdy wood with no ornamentation, but Duchess Kirena had prevailed upon him that the Cenarian throne couldn’t look like a dinner chair, so he had relented. This throne was sandalwood, almost glowing with a high polish, solid, elegantly shaped, and with a few fat rubies in each wing and in the front of the arms. By some magic, it was comfortable for Logan’s enormous frame. He almost pitied the rulers who would succeed him. Sitting in Logan’s throne, they would feel like dwarfs.
He lifted an eyebrow at Lantano Garuwashi, who knelt on a plain woven mat on the floor at Logan’s right hand. It looked uncomfortable, but Garuwashi appeared at ease. He nodded and Logan gestured.
The Lae’knaught in Wirtu, their semi-permanent camp that was functionally their capital city, had sent a new emissary. The man had arrived on time, though not an hour early.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” the diplomat began. He went on for some time, listing Logan’s titles and then his own, and then those of his master, Overlord Julus Rotans. Logan kept his face impassive. Going to Khalidor without the Lae’knaught would be suicide. By spring, Logan would have an army of fifteen thousand if he was lucky. Garuwashi’s sa’ceurai added six thousand. Between them, they had less than a thousand horse. Cenaria’s nobility were the only people in the realm who had the time and coin to become horsemen, and most of them hadn’t bothered. Of those who had, many had been killed in futile resistance to Garoth Ursuul. Similarly, Lantano Garuwashi had attracted mostly peasants and hedge sa’ceurai and the masterless. His army was the best in Ceura, but not the richest by a long shot. Duchess Kirena’s spies said the Khalidorans had at least twenty thousand soldiers and thousands of wytches.
Garuwashi’s men were in charge of training all of Logan’s forces, and they would train them for at least three more months, four if the winter was hard, which was an eternity for a peasant army to train, but Logan didn’t relish the idea of facing greater numbers and wytches on Khalidor’s own land. However it worked, what they called the Armor of Unbelief did seem to make the Lae’knaught less susceptible to magic, and if they could neutralize the meisters, that would demoralize the normal Khalidoran soldiers, who were used to their wytches crushing the opposition before they even raised their swords. It came down to one brutal fact: if Logan wanted Jenine back, he needed the Lae’knaught.
“ . . . after detailed discussion of your proposals,” the diplomat said. “The High Command has come to a decision.”
Logan stood abruptly. “Throw him out,” he told his guards. They seized the diplomat by both arms instantly.
“You haven’t even heard me out!” the man yelled as they dragged him backward, his feet barely touching the ground.
“Oh,” Logan said, scratching his jaw as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Very well then, go ahead. But make it fast. You’re boring me.” The truth was, he knew their response as soon as the man said “proposals,” plural.
“We agree with everything in the first and second articles, there are just a few minor details in the third that you may not be aware violate some very important Lae’knaught principles of honor. I’m sure quite unintentionally, you ask us to blaspheme against our most closely held beliefs.”
“Oh,” Logan said. “Let him go. I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend. What articles in particular were troublesome?”
“As I said, uh, we agree that Khalidor is our mutual enemy and that the time to act is now. We agree that—”
Logan waved his hand petulantly. “You’re boring me.”
“We simply had some logistical problems with the distribution of our forces.”
“Oh?” Logan said. He thought they’d have some problems with that. Lord General Agon had a low opinion of Lae’knaught loyalty, so he’d asked for a provision that specified that the Lae’knaught forces would be split and serve under Cenarian and Ceuran commanders. It was a trade-off militarily. The Cenarian commanders wouldn’t use the lancers as efficiently as the Lae’knaught commanders could. The Cenarians simply hadn’t commanded such forces before, so they didn’t know their strengths and weaknesses. On the other hand, it would make treachery much harder to organize, especially with how active Duchess Kirena planned to keep her spies.
“If I may be blunt, Your Majesty, this idea of having lancers serve under your commanders is suicidal.”
“Fair enough,” Logan said.
The man was professional enough that he didn’t show his surprise at Logan’s sudden acquiescence. “There were also a few other small details, much less substantial, I assure you. But now that we’re agreed in principle, I could meet with Your Majesty’s officials to arrange—”
“Why would that be necessary?” Logan asked.
The diplomat paused awkwardly. “Uh, to work out the details of our alliance?” He asked, as if trying not to treat Logan like an idiot.
“Alliance?” Logan asked.
The diplomat opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“No, no, sir,” Logan said. “This is no alliance. This is war. You rejected my terms. This summer, after Garuwashi’s sa’ceurai are finished looting Wirtu and slaughtering all of your officers, I will propose the same terms again—with one small additional detail. Namely, the lancers will stay under Cenarian command permanently. And if you say no then, I will kill you all. Guards?”
The men grabbed the little diplomat again.
“Your Majesty, wait!”
Logan lifted a finger and the guards stopped. “The only words I need to hear from you are, ‘Your Majesty, we accept your proposal.’ If you have anything else to say, you can say it to Underlord Dynos Rotans, who accompanied you, oddly in servant’s garb, though he outranks you and is known to have his brother’s ear. Tell him he should have had the balls to come see me himself. It’s an insult that he thought if things went really wrong, he could step in himself. I’m sick of Lae’knaught sycophants. Tell him he’s forbidden to come to my court. I’ll give you half an hour. Either come in that door with the words I told you, or find your horses.” Logan nodded and the guards heaved the diplomat out the door.
When the doors closed, Garuwashi said, “You seemed to enjoy that.”
“On the contrary, I’m within an inch of vomiting.”
“Really? Because you just tried to provoke war over a senseless provision?”
“I knew this kid, small kid, nothing to look at. Someone picked on him once, and he flew at the guy like he’d lost his mind.”
“Did the little kid win?”
“He got destroyed. But no one picked on that little kid again, because he approached every harassment as if his life depended on winning. There were no rules in a fight with him. He didn’t care how badly he got hurt. He would win. I was always bigger and stronger than other kids, but I would fight fair and stop when someone conceded victory. I had to fight a lot more than he did.”
“So you’re basing your handling of the Lae’knaught on a metaphor from your childhood?” Garuwashi asked.
Logan sat in his new throne. He had given the artisans three weeks to deliver it, and the men had barely met the deadline. He had wanted it simple, sturdy wood with no ornamentation, but Duchess Kirena had prevailed upon him that the Cenarian throne couldn’t look like a dinner chair, so he had relented. This throne was sandalwood, almost glowing with a high polish, solid, elegantly shaped, and with a few fat rubies in each wing and in the front of the arms. By some magic, it was comfortable for Logan’s enormous frame. He almost pitied the rulers who would succeed him. Sitting in Logan’s throne, they would feel like dwarfs.
He lifted an eyebrow at Lantano Garuwashi, who knelt on a plain woven mat on the floor at Logan’s right hand. It looked uncomfortable, but Garuwashi appeared at ease. He nodded and Logan gestured.
The Lae’knaught in Wirtu, their semi-permanent camp that was functionally their capital city, had sent a new emissary. The man had arrived on time, though not an hour early.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” the diplomat began. He went on for some time, listing Logan’s titles and then his own, and then those of his master, Overlord Julus Rotans. Logan kept his face impassive. Going to Khalidor without the Lae’knaught would be suicide. By spring, Logan would have an army of fifteen thousand if he was lucky. Garuwashi’s sa’ceurai added six thousand. Between them, they had less than a thousand horse. Cenaria’s nobility were the only people in the realm who had the time and coin to become horsemen, and most of them hadn’t bothered. Of those who had, many had been killed in futile resistance to Garoth Ursuul. Similarly, Lantano Garuwashi had attracted mostly peasants and hedge sa’ceurai and the masterless. His army was the best in Ceura, but not the richest by a long shot. Duchess Kirena’s spies said the Khalidorans had at least twenty thousand soldiers and thousands of wytches.
Garuwashi’s men were in charge of training all of Logan’s forces, and they would train them for at least three more months, four if the winter was hard, which was an eternity for a peasant army to train, but Logan didn’t relish the idea of facing greater numbers and wytches on Khalidor’s own land. However it worked, what they called the Armor of Unbelief did seem to make the Lae’knaught less susceptible to magic, and if they could neutralize the meisters, that would demoralize the normal Khalidoran soldiers, who were used to their wytches crushing the opposition before they even raised their swords. It came down to one brutal fact: if Logan wanted Jenine back, he needed the Lae’knaught.
“ . . . after detailed discussion of your proposals,” the diplomat said. “The High Command has come to a decision.”
Logan stood abruptly. “Throw him out,” he told his guards. They seized the diplomat by both arms instantly.
“You haven’t even heard me out!” the man yelled as they dragged him backward, his feet barely touching the ground.
“Oh,” Logan said, scratching his jaw as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Very well then, go ahead. But make it fast. You’re boring me.” The truth was, he knew their response as soon as the man said “proposals,” plural.
“We agree with everything in the first and second articles, there are just a few minor details in the third that you may not be aware violate some very important Lae’knaught principles of honor. I’m sure quite unintentionally, you ask us to blaspheme against our most closely held beliefs.”
“Oh,” Logan said. “Let him go. I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend. What articles in particular were troublesome?”
“As I said, uh, we agree that Khalidor is our mutual enemy and that the time to act is now. We agree that—”
Logan waved his hand petulantly. “You’re boring me.”
“We simply had some logistical problems with the distribution of our forces.”
“Oh?” Logan said. He thought they’d have some problems with that. Lord General Agon had a low opinion of Lae’knaught loyalty, so he’d asked for a provision that specified that the Lae’knaught forces would be split and serve under Cenarian and Ceuran commanders. It was a trade-off militarily. The Cenarian commanders wouldn’t use the lancers as efficiently as the Lae’knaught commanders could. The Cenarians simply hadn’t commanded such forces before, so they didn’t know their strengths and weaknesses. On the other hand, it would make treachery much harder to organize, especially with how active Duchess Kirena planned to keep her spies.
“If I may be blunt, Your Majesty, this idea of having lancers serve under your commanders is suicidal.”
“Fair enough,” Logan said.
The man was professional enough that he didn’t show his surprise at Logan’s sudden acquiescence. “There were also a few other small details, much less substantial, I assure you. But now that we’re agreed in principle, I could meet with Your Majesty’s officials to arrange—”
“Why would that be necessary?” Logan asked.
The diplomat paused awkwardly. “Uh, to work out the details of our alliance?” He asked, as if trying not to treat Logan like an idiot.
“Alliance?” Logan asked.
The diplomat opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“No, no, sir,” Logan said. “This is no alliance. This is war. You rejected my terms. This summer, after Garuwashi’s sa’ceurai are finished looting Wirtu and slaughtering all of your officers, I will propose the same terms again—with one small additional detail. Namely, the lancers will stay under Cenarian command permanently. And if you say no then, I will kill you all. Guards?”
The men grabbed the little diplomat again.
“Your Majesty, wait!”
Logan lifted a finger and the guards stopped. “The only words I need to hear from you are, ‘Your Majesty, we accept your proposal.’ If you have anything else to say, you can say it to Underlord Dynos Rotans, who accompanied you, oddly in servant’s garb, though he outranks you and is known to have his brother’s ear. Tell him he should have had the balls to come see me himself. It’s an insult that he thought if things went really wrong, he could step in himself. I’m sick of Lae’knaught sycophants. Tell him he’s forbidden to come to my court. I’ll give you half an hour. Either come in that door with the words I told you, or find your horses.” Logan nodded and the guards heaved the diplomat out the door.
When the doors closed, Garuwashi said, “You seemed to enjoy that.”
“On the contrary, I’m within an inch of vomiting.”
“Really? Because you just tried to provoke war over a senseless provision?”
“I knew this kid, small kid, nothing to look at. Someone picked on him once, and he flew at the guy like he’d lost his mind.”
“Did the little kid win?”
“He got destroyed. But no one picked on that little kid again, because he approached every harassment as if his life depended on winning. There were no rules in a fight with him. He didn’t care how badly he got hurt. He would win. I was always bigger and stronger than other kids, but I would fight fair and stop when someone conceded victory. I had to fight a lot more than he did.”
“So you’re basing your handling of the Lae’knaught on a metaphor from your childhood?” Garuwashi asked.
