even as he basked in the glow of praise.
“Your servant, sir. It does me honour to present to you our late foe, the esteemed Lord Esteril of Morven.”
“Lord Esteril and I are old friends,” said Azaar smoothly. “It gladdens my heart to see him again even on such a sorry occasion as this.”
Lord Esteril bowed, visibly swollen by the recognition granted to him by the famous General. He bowed to Azaar and then for the first time seemed to notice Lady Asea and bowed to her too, in the old fashioned courtly way of the elderly. She nodded her head politely in return. She was not about to curtsey in this mud, Sardec guessed.
“I hope you will forgive my surrendering to this young lad, Lord Azaar. I mean no slight. It merely seemed to me that your Lieutenant’s splendid defence of his position warranted the honour.”
Things had taken on a slightly unreal quality. Men had died bleeding in the mud today, and they were all standing here talking politely and in full formal courtly ritual. And yet, he knew that it could not be any other way. The Terrarchs were like that. They were polite and they were honourable. It was one of the things that separated them from beasts and from men.
The little niggling worm of doubt returned and whispered in his ear that it was the deaths of men that had made these small rituals necessary. What of it, the true Terrarch in him responded, theirs were the lives of mayflies anyway. The worm whispered that their lives were important enough to them and he could not find it in himself to deny it.
“You must join me in my tent and tell me your stories,” said Azaar, and once again his voice was laced with compulsions. Both Sardec and Esteril nodded and moved in the direction he indicated with his gauntleted hands, to where servants had already erected a small pavilion, and were preparing food.
Behind them, bullet-torn banners, stained with mud and blood, fluttered in the breeze.
“How is that you come to be opposing our advance to help your Queen, Lord Esteril,” Azaar asked. There was no menace in Azaar’s manner, merely polite curiosity. They might have been discussing the weather. It was all very civilised.
“As you know General, my sympathies have always been with Empress Arachne and her policies. Great as my respect for you is, my loyalty is to her and my cousin Lord Malkior.” Esteril sounded quite pleased with himself.
“I had thought your loyalty was to Kharadrea.” Once again Azaar’s tone was neutral.
“While Orodruine was alive, my loyalties were clear. He was a great leader, a great Terrarch, but now…” He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands deprecatingly. “There are two claimants to the throne, both with equally valid claims. We have been here before. We all know where that sort of situation has led in the past.”
Sardec nodded. It had split the Terrarch Imperium with Lord Azaar at the head of the Scarlet Faction, and Lord Malkior and his cronies at the head of the Purple. It had led to the weakening of firm central government, and to the granting of more and more liberties to the human subjects. Sardec could not quite bring himself to resent that the way he once had. He would need to take himself firmly in hand. It would not do to begin feeling too well- disposed towards the lower orders. They needed to be kept in their place.
“And how is Lord Ilmarec.”
“My liege is well.”
“I am very pleased to hear it. I had thought he supported Queen Kathea.”
“He still does.”
“Then why does he attack her allies?”
“He says she needs no allies. All outsiders should leave Kharadrean soil. We shall resolve our own differences.”
That brought a long silence. Outside Sardec could hear people moving and the subdued murmur of servants. In the distance a wyrm bellowed. This was news. Ilmarec had been Kathea’s strongest supporter. He was a powerful wizard and could draw on large armies from his extensive estates and his web of supporters. Azaar cocked his head to one side. Once again Sardec thought he caught the whiff of rot through the sickly sweet perfume.
“May I ask what makes him believe that is possible? Even if we withdraw I doubt the Dark Empire would.” There was the faintest hint of menace in his voice. Sardec would not have cared to have the General looking at him like that. It was too reminiscent of the way a cat looked at a mouse. He recalled some tales of his father’s concerning what happened to those who had opposed Azaar in the past.
If Lord Esteril was daunted he gave no sign. He raised his goblet to his lips and said; “This is very fine wine.” Perhaps there was more to the old dotard than there first appeared.
“It is from my cellar back on Marmoth.” Marmoth was Azaar’s estate, a great palace outside the Talorean capital city, Amber. Azaar had been given it as a reward for his victory at Three Fords. The building had been funded by the new Talorean state he had helped to found. It was a very direct reminder of who Azaar was, and whom he served.
“It does credit to your house,” said Esteril. “Lord Ilmarec has often praised your vineyards in my hearing.”
“He has visited them a few times in the past. His company gave me great pleasure.”
“I am sure your company would still give him much pleasure. I am sure he would be delighted to see you in the Serpent Tower.”
“I may have that pleasure yet,” said Azaar. “And I may take a few companions with me.”
Esteril laughed. “It would perhaps be better to go as his guest than with all your present companions. The defences of the Tower are very strong, and I am sure Lord Ilmarec will guard his home with as much flair as my young friend here.”
“I would greatly like to hear your reasons for opposing us,” said Sardec, deciding that a flank attack might be a better way of getting the information Lord Azaar desired. “There has never, to my knowledge, been any cause for animosity between Lord Ilmarec and those loyal to Queen Arielle.”
“As I have said, I believe my Lord fears a repetition of what happened when Queen Arielle and her sister, the Empress Arachne fell out. I think that is why he has taken Princess Kathea into safekeeping in the Tower.”
“Safekeeping?” Azaar’s tone was mild, but Sardec thought he detected surprise in it. Esteril smiled. He was enjoying this. Perhaps because like all Terrarchs he had a streak of vindictiveness in him, and this was the only way he could repay the Taloreans for his defeat.
“Yes, milord, safekeeping.” Or perhaps Esteril was simply letting Azaar know that his liege lord had an important hostage, and he should look out for his welfare. “While foreign armies are on the soil of Kharadrea, meaning no offence, he thought it best to take her under his protection.”
Sardec smiled. “Did Queen Kathea agree to this?”
“But, of course.”
“And he sent you to oppose our advance — because we are a hostile foreign army?” Azaar asked.
“I regret to say that is the case.”
“He is taking a terrible risk,” Azaar said. “His borders are far closer to Talorea than to the Dark Empire. It is well to keep on good terms with your neighbours. Her Majesty may demand reparations for the casualties inflicted on her forces by one she considered an ally.”
Sardec sensed the currents here. Wizard or not, Ilmarec was surely as aware of the political realities as anyone. What had given him the confidence to deny a neighbour with the power to crush him?
“Lord Ilmarec has retired to his tower and prepares great magic which he assures us will see that no outsider will alter the destiny of Kharadrea.”
“We both know there is no magic so powerful in this world,” said Azaar reasonably. “In Al’Terra perhaps, but not here.” That was a painful subject for all of them. They had lost so much when they had left their former home world. Magical energy was simply not as abundant here, and the most potent spells could no longer be worked.
“Lord Ilmarec thinks differently. He is a great wizard, as great as your sister, my Lord, and just as knowledgeable in his chosen fields. One of those is the Serpent Men, my dear Azaar, as you will remember.”
Esteril was in full flow now. There was a boastful quality to his speech that might have been the wine talking or perhaps it was just the Terrarch’s normal personality. Azaar had known the Lord in the past, Sardec remembered. Perhaps he’d chosen this method to draw him out.
“He has been dabbling in the lost secrets of the ancients?” There was a note of scorn in Azaar’s voice that
