Phoenix Unbound
Page 69
“Yes.” Azarion stroked her back. “There’s no guarantee he’ll agree to my plan, especially when it’s one in which the Savatar start a war with the Empire.” His gaze turned piercing. “If he does agree to it, I will do all in my power to see that Beroe is spared any attack from the Savatar who may pass it by on their way to Kraelag.”
The sun had topped the horizon by the time they rose, dressed, and rolled up their belongings to return to their borrowed qara. Someone had entered earlier, leaving behind a tray of food and a basin of still-warm wash water.
Azarion gathered the subchiefs who accompanied him outside the entrance to Erakes’s qara. He acknowledged each man with a quick nod.
The ataman’s qara was nearly full once again when they entered. Erakes sat on an elevated pallet, a tall backrest draped in white fur behind him, reminding Gilene of a monarch’s throne. A coterie of subchiefs and a pair of agacins stood in clutches close by. Gilene nodded to her sisters of the Flame, who nodded back but didn’t invite her to stand with them.
Azarion stood before Erakes, his subchiefs in a half circle behind him. Gilene took up a place at its periphery, close enough to hear the exchange between the two atamans but far enough away to remain out of the discussion itself.
Erakes sat at ease, one arm draped across a bent knee. The fragrant smoke of incense scented the air, along with the steam of freshly brewed tea. Two servants passed tea to the meeting’s attendees before fading into the qara’s shadows.
“You’ve called a confederation council, Azarion Ataman.” Erakes took a swallow of tea from his cup before continuing. “Karsas was a lazy ataman, content to grow fat on the tributes of his clan and sire children. You, I think, are like your father. Iruadis was never content to grow old behind the Fire Veil.”
Azarion bowed. “As his friend, you knew him better and longer than I did, Erakes Ataman. He was a man of ambitions and dreams. I am like him in the first, but I prefer practicality over dreams, and the Savatar have sat too long behind the Veil, dreaming of their greatness on the Sky Below.”
Gilene caught the murmurs and shifting of the chieftains as they whispered among themselves over Azarion’s remark.
One of Erakes’s eyebrows rose. “I’m listening,” he said.
It was the opening Azarion wanted, and Gilene hoped he was as good an orator as he was a fighter, that his natural charisma and sound pragmatism would appeal to Erakes.
“I was a slave of the Empire for ten years,” he said, addressing the entire group. “A gladiator of the Pit, the Gladius Prime.” More murmurs swirled throughout the qara, along with a few approving whistles. If there was one thing the Savatar admired, it was a skilled warrior. Azarion had proven himself to be such, not only in Kraelag’s arena but on the steppes as well.
“While I was a slave, I heard the truths and rumors of the Empire, how it wants to expand its reach, how it uses the Nunari to test the strength of the Veil, to find its weakness so that one day they might collapse it and bring their armies onto our lands.”
“The Veil will never fall!” one ataman declared. “Our agacins won’t let it happen.”
Azarion’s gaze settled briefly on the pair of agacins standing near Erakes before he turned to give a short nod to Gilene. “Agna’s handmaidens are indeed powerful, and the Veil is strong, but it protects the Sky Below on one side only. There is no Veil to the east.”
“No, but there are the Gamir Mountains,” Erakes said. “They’re almost as good at protecting us in the east as the Veil does in the west.”
“That may have been the way of it in the past, Erakes Ataman, but no longer.” Azarion paused to pin each ataman with a piercing look. Gilene held back a smile. He was good at this, very good. Every eye was riveted on him, every man leaning forward to hear his next words. Even Erakes had straightened against his backrest, his body no longer half slumped in casual repose. “Raiders from the Gamirs descend into Goban farmlands, destroy the crops, kill or steal the livestock, and burn the homesteads. They’ve collapsed some of the iron mines and cut off access to others.”
Erakes shrugged. “We all know this. I’ve sent my men, as have the other atamans, to aid the Goban and drive back the raiders. It’s the risk of living where they do.”
“Did you know it is Kraelian weapons and Kraelian horses the raiders are using to attack the Goban? Or that the raiders themselves are often Kraelian soldiers disguised to look like Gamir tribesmen?”
That raised an outcry. Judging by the sudden consternation on Erakes’s face, Gilene guessed this information was new and caught him by surprise. “How do you know this to be true?”
“Because I fought alongside and against Pit gladiators who once served in the Kraelian army. Men of high place who fell from favor when they incurred the wrath or displeasure of their commanding officer or a nobleman of more power.” Azarion paced a little in front of Erakes, every step tracked by his enraptured audience. “The Empire is secure in its belief it’s impervious to attack from outside its borders. They don’t bother with secrets, and these men were free with their knowledge while they trained or waited to fight in the arena.
“We all know there are four Kraelian garrisons perched alongside the Serpent, each about nine leagues from the base of the Gamir Mountains on the other side of Goban lands. Three are manned by battalions, the fourth—the largest—by a legion. Together, they can march as many as eight thousand men across those mountains and onto Goban territory. They haven’t done it yet because it’s too easy to pick them off in the narrow passes.”
Erakes waved a hand, unconcerned. “But for what purpose? The Goban are numerous enough to hold their territory if the Kraelians try such a thing, and the Empire won’t empty out its garrisons just to conquer farmers and their crops.”
“No, but they’ll do it to stop a people who can field an infantry, and they’ll take control of the iron the Goban bring out of their mines. They’ll do it if it means they can conquer Savatar land without breaking the Veil.”
An expectant hush settled even deeper onto the qara as Azarion continued. “The Krael Empire is long-lived because it’s long-thinking. It devours its neighbors by slow degrees instead of immediate attack. It’s the predator that waits in the cave, the spider at the center of the web. Ever patient, never merciful.” Gilene shivered at the picture his words created. “The Empire puts it about that its garrisons protect the traders who travel the Serpent from the bandits who plague the route. The traders know these bandits are Kraelian soldiers who rob to line their pockets and fill the garrison coffers.”
Another ataman spoke up. “If that’s so, why don’t the caravans quit traveling the trade road?”
“Because what they lose in these robberies can be made up elsewhere in profit. To abandon the Serpent altogether would see them exiled from the Trade Guild, also controlled by the Empire, and their riches dwindled to the scrapings left by the established free traders.”
“What would you have the Savatar do?” Erakes motioned to a nearby servant for a refill of his tea.
“The Empire won’t stop with four garrisons. They’ll build four more and four more after that and the roads to reach every one of them. While the Gamir raiders destroy Goban crops and hold the mines, the Goban people will fight them and starve while doing it, far too busy staying alive to worry about a Kraelian garrison with a legion of soldiers being built right under their noses. Once the Empire gets a foothold in the mountains, we will be at war, and we will lose.” Azarion’s tone sharpened even more. “They outnumber us ten to one and can field both infantry and cavalry in great numbers. All they’ll need is a foothold and time, and the Sky Below will fall to the Empire from the east just like the plains of the Nunari fell in the west.”
The sun had topped the horizon by the time they rose, dressed, and rolled up their belongings to return to their borrowed qara. Someone had entered earlier, leaving behind a tray of food and a basin of still-warm wash water.
Azarion gathered the subchiefs who accompanied him outside the entrance to Erakes’s qara. He acknowledged each man with a quick nod.
The ataman’s qara was nearly full once again when they entered. Erakes sat on an elevated pallet, a tall backrest draped in white fur behind him, reminding Gilene of a monarch’s throne. A coterie of subchiefs and a pair of agacins stood in clutches close by. Gilene nodded to her sisters of the Flame, who nodded back but didn’t invite her to stand with them.
Azarion stood before Erakes, his subchiefs in a half circle behind him. Gilene took up a place at its periphery, close enough to hear the exchange between the two atamans but far enough away to remain out of the discussion itself.
Erakes sat at ease, one arm draped across a bent knee. The fragrant smoke of incense scented the air, along with the steam of freshly brewed tea. Two servants passed tea to the meeting’s attendees before fading into the qara’s shadows.
“You’ve called a confederation council, Azarion Ataman.” Erakes took a swallow of tea from his cup before continuing. “Karsas was a lazy ataman, content to grow fat on the tributes of his clan and sire children. You, I think, are like your father. Iruadis was never content to grow old behind the Fire Veil.”
Azarion bowed. “As his friend, you knew him better and longer than I did, Erakes Ataman. He was a man of ambitions and dreams. I am like him in the first, but I prefer practicality over dreams, and the Savatar have sat too long behind the Veil, dreaming of their greatness on the Sky Below.”
Gilene caught the murmurs and shifting of the chieftains as they whispered among themselves over Azarion’s remark.
One of Erakes’s eyebrows rose. “I’m listening,” he said.
It was the opening Azarion wanted, and Gilene hoped he was as good an orator as he was a fighter, that his natural charisma and sound pragmatism would appeal to Erakes.
“I was a slave of the Empire for ten years,” he said, addressing the entire group. “A gladiator of the Pit, the Gladius Prime.” More murmurs swirled throughout the qara, along with a few approving whistles. If there was one thing the Savatar admired, it was a skilled warrior. Azarion had proven himself to be such, not only in Kraelag’s arena but on the steppes as well.
“While I was a slave, I heard the truths and rumors of the Empire, how it wants to expand its reach, how it uses the Nunari to test the strength of the Veil, to find its weakness so that one day they might collapse it and bring their armies onto our lands.”
“The Veil will never fall!” one ataman declared. “Our agacins won’t let it happen.”
Azarion’s gaze settled briefly on the pair of agacins standing near Erakes before he turned to give a short nod to Gilene. “Agna’s handmaidens are indeed powerful, and the Veil is strong, but it protects the Sky Below on one side only. There is no Veil to the east.”
“No, but there are the Gamir Mountains,” Erakes said. “They’re almost as good at protecting us in the east as the Veil does in the west.”
“That may have been the way of it in the past, Erakes Ataman, but no longer.” Azarion paused to pin each ataman with a piercing look. Gilene held back a smile. He was good at this, very good. Every eye was riveted on him, every man leaning forward to hear his next words. Even Erakes had straightened against his backrest, his body no longer half slumped in casual repose. “Raiders from the Gamirs descend into Goban farmlands, destroy the crops, kill or steal the livestock, and burn the homesteads. They’ve collapsed some of the iron mines and cut off access to others.”
Erakes shrugged. “We all know this. I’ve sent my men, as have the other atamans, to aid the Goban and drive back the raiders. It’s the risk of living where they do.”
“Did you know it is Kraelian weapons and Kraelian horses the raiders are using to attack the Goban? Or that the raiders themselves are often Kraelian soldiers disguised to look like Gamir tribesmen?”
That raised an outcry. Judging by the sudden consternation on Erakes’s face, Gilene guessed this information was new and caught him by surprise. “How do you know this to be true?”
“Because I fought alongside and against Pit gladiators who once served in the Kraelian army. Men of high place who fell from favor when they incurred the wrath or displeasure of their commanding officer or a nobleman of more power.” Azarion paced a little in front of Erakes, every step tracked by his enraptured audience. “The Empire is secure in its belief it’s impervious to attack from outside its borders. They don’t bother with secrets, and these men were free with their knowledge while they trained or waited to fight in the arena.
“We all know there are four Kraelian garrisons perched alongside the Serpent, each about nine leagues from the base of the Gamir Mountains on the other side of Goban lands. Three are manned by battalions, the fourth—the largest—by a legion. Together, they can march as many as eight thousand men across those mountains and onto Goban territory. They haven’t done it yet because it’s too easy to pick them off in the narrow passes.”
Erakes waved a hand, unconcerned. “But for what purpose? The Goban are numerous enough to hold their territory if the Kraelians try such a thing, and the Empire won’t empty out its garrisons just to conquer farmers and their crops.”
“No, but they’ll do it to stop a people who can field an infantry, and they’ll take control of the iron the Goban bring out of their mines. They’ll do it if it means they can conquer Savatar land without breaking the Veil.”
An expectant hush settled even deeper onto the qara as Azarion continued. “The Krael Empire is long-lived because it’s long-thinking. It devours its neighbors by slow degrees instead of immediate attack. It’s the predator that waits in the cave, the spider at the center of the web. Ever patient, never merciful.” Gilene shivered at the picture his words created. “The Empire puts it about that its garrisons protect the traders who travel the Serpent from the bandits who plague the route. The traders know these bandits are Kraelian soldiers who rob to line their pockets and fill the garrison coffers.”
Another ataman spoke up. “If that’s so, why don’t the caravans quit traveling the trade road?”
“Because what they lose in these robberies can be made up elsewhere in profit. To abandon the Serpent altogether would see them exiled from the Trade Guild, also controlled by the Empire, and their riches dwindled to the scrapings left by the established free traders.”
“What would you have the Savatar do?” Erakes motioned to a nearby servant for a refill of his tea.
“The Empire won’t stop with four garrisons. They’ll build four more and four more after that and the roads to reach every one of them. While the Gamir raiders destroy Goban crops and hold the mines, the Goban people will fight them and starve while doing it, far too busy staying alive to worry about a Kraelian garrison with a legion of soldiers being built right under their noses. Once the Empire gets a foothold in the mountains, we will be at war, and we will lose.” Azarion’s tone sharpened even more. “They outnumber us ten to one and can field both infantry and cavalry in great numbers. All they’ll need is a foothold and time, and the Sky Below will fall to the Empire from the east just like the plains of the Nunari fell in the west.”
