use the full power of his office to improve the fortunes of his family, his city, and his Church. There's a real chance of war.'
'Which we would like to encourage,' Gordimer said. 'Without getting pulled in. Better the Unbelievers butcher each other than attack us or the Holy Lands.'
'I see,' Else replied, careful to sound neutral.
Gordimer asked, 'So, can I count on you?'
'Can I take some of my men?'
'Not this time. This time you go alone. A merchantman will take you to Runch on the Isle of Staklirhod. At Runch you can buy passage to Sonsa. Your documents will identify you as a minor Arnhander knight. You've been called home to deal with family matters in LaTriobe, in Tramaine. This is because of the confusion following Santerin's obliteration of the Duke of Harmonachy's army at Themes last summer.'
'Sounds like you've done some detailed planning.'
Er-Rashal admitted, 'Actually, we're improvising on the fly.'
Gordimer said, 'We captured a Sir Aelford daSkees last week. He was in those exact circumstances. Pretend to be him till you reach Sonsa. It isn't likely that anyone knows him. Talk about changing ship to a Minochan coaster and traveling on to Sheavenalle in the End of Connec. When you reach Sonsa, though, drop the daSkees guise and head south toward Brothe as an unemployed mercenary.”
Er-Rashal added, 'Once you leave Sonsa you'll be on your own.'
Gordimer added, 'There'll be a lot more to rehearse before you go. But, for now, relax. Rest. See your people.'
Else imagined a sinister tone there. Perhaps inventing the Lion's implication that his family were hostage to his behavior.
Imagination or not, Else needed no reminding. He bowed.
Gordimer said, 'A moment more. To show my gratitude for what you accomplished bringing those mummies out of Andesqueluz. Without losing a man. Rashal?'
'Extend your hands, Captain.' The sorcerer placed a leather sack in Else's right hand. A generous reward indeed unless the coins within were bronze or copper. Then er-Rashal wrapped Else's left wrist with a strip of worn brown leather. He brought its ends together, muttered something while he drew a finger along the join. The leather closed seamlessly. Else rolled his wrist. A dozen odd stones and metal shapes decorated the leather.
Er-Rashid said, 'That will fade from sight. It will shield you from a range of sorcery and most of the things of the night. Not that you should expect trouble. Brothe is almost as old as the temple cities of the Lower Kingdom. It's even more tamed.'
'Thank you.'
Gordimer told him, 'Go. Enjoy yourself.'
In remote antiquity Dreanger became divided administratively into the Lower, Middle, and Upper Kingdoms. The Lower Kingdom consisted of delta country and seacoast. It was prosperous agriculturally and commercially. It was also home to the oldest cities in the world, each of which grew up around the home temple of one of the Ancient Gods of Dreanger. Seven hundred years before Gordimer the Lion, when the Church became the official religion of the Old Brothen Empire — Dreanger was a province of the Empire then — the temples were stormed and torn apart by followers of the fanatic Josephus Alegiant. The priests were murdered.
Josephus was a mad devotee of Aaron of Chaldar. Aaron was one of the Holy Founders of the Church, born in Chaldar in the Holy Lands. Chaldar gave its name to that whole religious movement Chaldar existed still as a dusty village beside the Well of Peace.
Aaron was the first of the Holy Founders to preach the Chaldarean creed. His great message had been one of universal peace, love, and equality, informed with an abiding loathing of violence in every form.
Two hundred fifty years before Gordimer another wave of murderous apostles of love and peace swept through the Lower Kingdom. It swamped the ruling Chaldareans, destroying both their works and anything pagan that had survived Josephus Alegiant That consisted of thousands of books. Burned, those took with them the secrets, knowledge, and histories of thousands of years.
The Peqaad warriors of the Conquest were ignorant, superstitious, unbathed desert tribesmen frequently only weeks past their epiphanous moments of conversion. They came to Dreanger knowing a deep terror of books and writing. Literate men always worked evil by taking advantage of their education.
From earliest times the Middle Kingdom was the seat of Dreanger's governments. Even when priests ruled and kings were gods and Dreanger prostrated itself to the Tyranny of the Night whether sun or moon ruled the sky. And al-Qarn, wearing other names before the Conquest, had been the seat of administration since before men had begun to distinguish their rulers from their gods.
These days the Upper Kingdom was wild country, frontier country, snuggled up against the Slang Mountains, that shielded Dreanger from the south. Chaldarean cultists and anchorites, and pagan nomads, still haunted the Upper Kingdom, in company with the ghosts of seven thousand years worth of Dreangerean dead.
Today the Upper Kingdom was commonly called the Kingdom of the Dead. The barren hills on either bank of the Shirne, for as far as thirty miles back, were networked with tunnels that led to the tombs of half a thousand generations. The Instrumentalities of the Night made grave robbers and tomb raiders wish they had chosen more auspicious careers.
The original significance of being buried in the Hills of the Dead had gotten lost centuries before Josephus Alegiant, but even now, amongst those who claimed unalloyed Dreangerean blood, there was a social imperative for having one's corpse laid down underneath the Hills of the Dead.
That part of the Upper Kingdom had accumulated immense reserves of dark magic. Only the Holy Lands boasted a superior supernatural status and more concentrated magical power.
The Wells of Ihrian were the Heart of the Soul of the World.
Gordimer asked, 'What do you think of captain Tage, Rashal?'
'I think you're letting your fears get the better of you again, my friend. That man might be your most loyal and valuable follower. He's truly, totally Sha-lug.' No man but er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen would dare speak so directly to Gordimer the Lion.
The marshal was not pleased. But he could do nothing. Much as he hated it, he was at er-Rashal's mercy.
Gordimer had great difficulty grasping the fact that not everyone thought the way he did, that every man was not a slave to bloody ambition.
Captain Tage was a competent man. How could he not…?
Er-Rashal said, 'Huge events will overtake us in coming years. If you go on the way you have been, those events will devour you, me, Dreanger, and the Kaifate of al-Minphet. Because you, driven by baseless fears, will have eliminated everyone with enough nerve, strength, and ability to lift a sword.'
Gordimer rose. He stamped around. He cursed. He threatened. He appealed to God. He told his only friend, 'You have to help me, Rashal. I can't control my thoughts. But they can control me.'
'I'll do what I can. For Dreanger's sake as well as yours. But my best efforts won't do any good if you don't make an effort yourself. Remind yourself, whenever you think you smell a plot, that there's an excellent chance that it's imaginary. Talk to me before you start killing people. Sit down with me and we'll study the evidence. And let me question the suspects before you kill them. We don't want to waste good people. Abad did that. Abad wasted too many good people. Which was why you gained enough support to remove him.'
Er-Rashal did not mention that he had been chief wizard to Gordimer's predecessor. No need to give Gordimer anything else to brood about.
'I try, Rashal. I really try. But it's a disease.'
'Just let me question your suspects. Don't do anything yourself. Don't draw the lightning.'
Gordimer grunted agreement. But he did so with secret reservations.
