339 - A touch of help being Imperious

The room they went into, along with two or three aides each, held sound in enough that I couldn’t hear words, but I heard their voices rising once or twice. Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Most likely they were arguing over their chances of holding us off long enough for reinforcements to arrive. I would have liked to be part of that argument, but of course they were inclined to disbelieve all I said.

Yet perhaps they had questions that I could answer with truth known on both sides. I got up from where I was sitting waiting, and, since all the aides were in conferring, signed to one of the Arkan escort and asked him to tell Barakas and Skiras I’d provide what information I had that they wished to hear. With a look of ‘I guess there isn’t any reason I can’t do that,’ he acknowledged, almost as if I were his commander.

“Cheng,” Krero said uneasily but fast, “I don’t like where you are.” A little closer to the positions of the Arkan escort than I was to mine, he meant; I’d walked only a man-height and a half that way towards the inn’s corridor, but that was enough to do it, especially since the Arkan I’d addressed had come a step closer to answer me. Krer’s gotten more protective again, I thought; I’d done the like any number of times while parleying with Arkans, to no bad end. I had no reason to stay where he didn’t like, though, so I turned, and felt the sudden twinging tension of enemy intent in the air, then a sword drawn and stabbing at my back, and two more, only slightly behind, coming in to either side.

I did a spinning draw and slashed the closest man between the cheek-guards of his helmet, across the eyes, so he was screaming and throwing his shield-hand over his face even as his stab kept coming in, by momentum. I wrist-parried it. The other two checked for a moment with fear, white flashing around their blue irises, so I leapt at the one on my sword-side—they had shields and I didn’t—with a shield-to-sword-side downcut that he took half on his shield and half in the side of the neck, while I wrist-parried his stab.

As I moved I distantly heard “Chen!! Treachery!!” in Yeoli then the same in Arkan, then the rasp and ring of swords being drawn; other voices cried, in both languages, “No no no no, we’re under the ivy branch!” But however much they disagreed with their comrades, they’d come to their aid; in an instant it would be a bloodbath, and it need not be. There was not a chance the Arkan escort had been united in this, else they’d all have drawn at once on a commander’s signal, and none would protest.

The one I’d neck-wounded was standing flat-footed, gasping, so I ran around him to avoid the third and the others, and got between Krero and Kunarda to stop their advance, yelling “Stand down!” in Arkan first and then Yeoli for all I was worth. Then Enchian; Reknarja had his sword drawn. Someone joined me in yelling it in Arkan: their commander, his voice frantic; his head might roll for this. Everyone froze, eyes locked on each other, not knowing what to do, except the Arkan I’d neck-wounded, who faded back and then sank to the floor, and the Arkan I’d eye-wounded, who staggered into the wall crying, “Aras help me, I can’t see I can’t see!!”

“Back! Back!” I ordered mine, and the Arkan commander did same, opening most of the greatroom, with its Arkan-style tables and chairs, between us. Misiali I did not see; his duty as a hill-top-style general was to get on his horse and save himself, so he’d either done that or was readying himself to. My other two aides, Hurai and Lurai, both counted themselves warriors enough to stay, though they were at the rear and neither had drawn. Just as I was saying to the Arkan commander, “You order yours to sheathe and I’ll do same, both at once?” Barakas came striding out, his eyes flicking to the blood on my sword then fixing furiously on mine. “You treacherous fikken wool-hair,” he hissed.

“You have a supply of truth-drug, I assume,” I said in Enchian, keeping my voice icy calm. “I ask in the strongest way that you investigate this in proper Arkan fashion, then…” I hardened my eyes. “Unless it was actually your order?” Maybe I could wring more concessions out of him, due to this. I switched to Yeoli. “Swords away, we’re just arguing now.” I set to wiping Chirel to sheathe it myself.

“You are saying it was us who started this, you savage, when the only bloodied sword is yours and the only men hurt are mine? Tell me how that can be!”

Krero let out a smug laugh. “They picked the wrong man to backstab.” More of mine joined in, gleefully, saying thing like “Sneak up on him, you’re shredded in a eye-blink every time.” Reknarja looked down his nose as only royalty can. “On the Crown of my Ancestors, by the Gods of my Ancients, and second Fire come if I am forsworn, yours attacked and Sievenka defended. Any of yours care to swear such an oath to any other account?”

Some of the Arkans were willing to lie, others were not, so of course their disunity gave it away. The two wounded had been helped away, though I distantly heard the one still screaming that he could not see, probably understanding that he would not for the rest of his life, but not understanding the rest of his life was not long. Merciless to those who betray me, I reminded myself. I thought I’d fought wearing the demarchic shirt for the last time three years ago.

“You’re outnumbered now,” I said, “so I’ll look the other way if you make no arrests yet. But I wonder if there’s any point dealing with you. First it was a poison blade in Kallijas’s hands, and then Vae Arahi set on fire, and now this—and that’s on top of the sneaking assassination attempts. Maybe dishonourable conduct in war is official Arkan policy and your word in any agreement we might make is worth nothing.” It wasn’t hard to find anger in me, now.

“Don’t forget your very first experience with an Arkan escort, Cheng,” Krero said mildly, in Enchian. “Nineteen family and friends stabbed in the back, and they only didn’t get you for the same reason you just demonstrated.” He was going to chew me out later, I knew with certainty.

“You killed three hundred prisoners who surrendered to you on your oath of sparing in the harbour of Tinikia,” Barakas said.

That’s going to haunt me till the end of this war, I thought. I took my crystal. “Second Fire come, I didn’t; I had my people pick those who’d been captured without surrendering. That does nothing to cleanse the stain of this from you, anyway; even if you’re not a backstabber, you don’t keep discipline well enough not to have backstabbers under your command. Maybe I should count this as refusing to surrender and do all I threatened.” It was easier to be overbearing in a conqueror-like manner, too.

Skiras, who’d come up behind Barakas and was peeking over his shoulder, spoke up. “That would hardly be fair, Shefen-kas; I certainly had no hand in it. And neither you nor any of yours were harmed. Your heart’s desire is to be Imperator, but I think it is also to be a good one, yes? That means tempering justice with mercy, at times.”

I suddenly saw how Skiras, who seemed a pale scratchy stick of a person, had gotten to be appointed mayor. The true art of the flatterer is to see into the heart of the one he’s flattering. I found myself softening.

“We… may have a proposal… it depends on certain things,” Barakas said. In the centre of the greatroom was a table for six or so; I sat there. They both came, pulling out chairs and lowering themselves cautiously, Barakas never taking his eyes off me. “Hands off swords,” Krero ordered, and the Arkan commander echoed.

“First… if we do this… I will send a pigeon message to the City,” he said. “I want your guarantee that you will allow no other pigeon message to arrive there within an eight-day after.”

Sinimas Menden’s pigeon telling the Pages, and whoever else he was telling, the news that Osijitz had surrendered, I guessed. So he really did have family in Arko. “An eight-day headstart for whoever might need it,” I said. “Done.” I could not absolutely guarantee I had no Arkan spies with pigeons in my camp, but I did not mention that.

“Second… we both feel you offer us too little gold, considering you will receive the army treasury, which would pay what you offer three times over, not to mention the gear of twenty-four thousand solas, with all that is worth.”

“You ask me to trust your word on what’s in the army treasury,” I said. “That reminds me, while I’m thinking of it, I have a new condition of my own. The three who came up behind me, just now, and whoever else is responsible... their heads.” If someone double-crosses you, crush him like an insect.

“Done,” Barakas said crisply. “Pardon me, Shefen-kas.” He got up, went back among his men, gave a quick order, and came back. The cries of “Aiiigh I can’t see!” cut off mid-sentence a bare moment later. “Don’t take that to mean you have a certain deal here, though, Shefen-kas,” he said gruffly. “I was finding it irritating.” No matter how much conquest corrupts me, I thought, it will never make me into an Arkan.

“We are going to have to deal on the basis that I cannot definitely know what’s in the army treasury,” I said. “I’ll count it as more than nothing, obviously, but not necessarily what you claim. That is not negotiable; that’ll be the cost to you of the breach of the ivy branch.” That much I would stiffen.

“It soured your mood; I can understand that,” said Skiras, all sympathetic.

“It almost cost me, and Yeola-e, my life.”

“Even four thousand apiece is still low,” said Barakas, adding, “not that we must receive the same amount.” Skiras flashed him a look. “It is our honour we are selling here; ask us to sell it too low, and we’ll choose bloodshed instead.”

“You’re chancing that it will only be the blood of others,” I said. “You two personally given to those of mine who’ve been tortured by Mahid, remember. That would include myself, actually; I was tortured very badly by Mahid.” I considered saying more, but decided not to risk my tongue locking. Skiras’s cheeks paled a touch. “I’ll come up to twenty-five hundred for you, Skiras, and three thousand for you, Barakas.” I could see the mayor itching to say, “Done. Done!”

“Three thousand, that is all I am worth?” Barakas stood up hard, knocking the chair back some, though not with the full grand bang that an offended Lakan lord does when challenging someone to a duel in the Palace of Kraj.

I was trying to find something to say other than “Yes, that is all you are worth” when Misiali, who along with the other aides could hear all, said, “With all due respect, Invincible, and honourable enemies, may I humbly beg to interrupt.” I signed chalk; he didn’t wait for their agreement.

“Gentlemen Arkans, you are looking at the next Imperator of Arko. Does anyone with a shred of sense doubt it? Look to the future; where will you be? Many men would count themselves divinely-touched with luck just to win his favour, accompanied by no other gift at all; many more men would be happy to get away merely with their lives. But you, made this stunningly-generous offer, slight it by haggling, as if an Imperator-to-be is a lowly hawker in a market! You think that when he is sitting on the Crystal Throne, he won’t remember this? You think how he regards you then will not be coloured by the impression he is left with here? You think when he makes his choices for the best positions, or who will have his most careful protection, he won’t take note of whoever was most favourable to him, when it mattered? You seem not to be taking this into consideration at all, and I cannot imagine a course less advisable. Forgive me the interruption, that is all.” He stepped back into his place beside Reknarja.

I fixed Barakas’s eyes with mine and kept them there unwavering. That would be stronger than opening my mouth. “Twenty-five hundred is agreeable to me!” said Skiras. Barakas heaved a deep breath. “Three thousand,” he gritted. “Done.” Osijitz was ours.

Barakas saved some chains by not paying a Haian to save the man with the neck-wound, just for questioning. The third of the backstabbers, who was unharmed, was truth-drugged before me. After they’d been picked for the escort, the three of them had spoken, and decided that they would kill me if given a good chance, since it would be worth it to break the oath of the ivy branch to save their Empire. They had been thinking of how they would be rewarded by Kurkas, too. Insufficient reconnaissance was their undoing; none of them had known I had weapon-sense.

I sent a message to Sinimas forbidding him to send any pigeons for an eight-day, and two guards to watch to make sure he didn’t, Barakas had the Mahid in the city quietly murdered, and then we set about to conducting the surrender in good order. Assembled in the city square and given their orders—to swear allegiance to me and give up their gear—the Arkan army stood in stunned horror. Barakas spoke to them, telling them that he had done the best for them and the city that he could, but one man cried out, “How much did you sell us for, Aitzas?”—solas are no fools—and he had to threaten them with insubordination charges, meaning executions, to quiet them.

So I got up beside him and held up my arms for silence, which came much faster than I’d expected. The Arkan rank and file may hate one who has vanquished them, but they always respect him. “It is as I said to your brothers in Roskat,” I said, in my best two-down. “You are all my warriors now. If I had to fight anyone but Arkans, you would have your gear still and I would welcome you into my army; but I will not make you fight against your own. I give you my word on this: I will keep your gear stored well. When I am Imperator and it is the enemies of Arko that I am fighting, I will ask you if you will take up your weapons and put on your armour again, to fight them for Arko.” A few bellowed, “Never, you fikken Hayel-spawn wool-hair!” or the like, hoping the rest would take up the cry, but most stayed gravely silent, thinking.

The townspeople were more relieved than anything, since nothing would get destroyed and no one raped or killed. I spoke to them, too, saying not much more than what they wanted to hear the most, that it would be business as usual; Skiras got up beside me and made a let’s-make-the-best-of-it speech so good that I felt moved.

When we celebrated that night, I kissed Misiali’s hand. “You’re new to this, that’s all,” he said. “You’ve done all the planning you can and it’s been brilliant, but you are going to be all at sea the first time you do every part of it anyway, because no planning replaces experience. So you needed a touch of help being Imperious; who was I to refuse that? With practice, you will master the art.”

Krero chewed me out, and I swore to him what I had already decided: never to trust an Arkan escort again. It was yet another thing that had changed, that I hadn’t thought to take into account: now they were being invaded, desperate heroics tempted harder.

Thus Osijitz became in part a solas prison. We put a Lakan sub-general who had experience in that sort of thing in charge of it, and he first set them to work building a walled barracks outside the town, and then other tasks, even helping with the harvest, in chained parties. They were held like slaves, but they earned like the free: I made that rule very clear, that they could choose whether to work or not, and would be paid fairly if they did. Many of them, especially those with good skills, kept right on sending money home to their families in the City just as they always had.

From the army chest, which turned out to be only a little less than Barakas had claimed, I rewarded my warriors, albeit lightly, since they hadn’t had to fight, and left the rest to supply the prisoners. I left a thousand-strong garrison, mostly Roskati, but with enough Yeolis there to make sure the Roskati didn’t indulge themselves in revenge on the citizens. Skiras I left in place, with one of the Yeoli administrators I called up from Terera to oversee him. One of the first things Skiras did was procure a nice estate for Barakas and his kin a little east of the city, and a townhouse within. I left him orders to stay in greater Osijitz on pain of death until further notice. Then a day of rest, and we set off marching westward to the next Arkan city.