The Hope of Vitality, page 4
The idea made a weird kind of sense. He’d respected the boundaries, difficult as it had been. They probably hadn’t expected that.
Thoughts began to come in a rush. From the beginning the guards had stayed well clear of them at night. Then it occurred to him that more than once he’d noticed the guards sniggering as the two of them headed toward the stream.
Even after Rupert had provoked Dessue’s replacement, the Ahran had never forced them apart. It would have been an effective way of hitting back at Rupert, and the leader must surely have realized that.
Their captors’ next step had been refusing to repair the damaged hut. With a storm closing in, Tasha herself had voiced the possibility of sharing the other one. Somehow they had managed to repair the hut themselves.
Perhaps the new guards arrived with orders to speed up the process. Since the two captives weren’t taking the hint, the Ahrans had abandoned subtlety. The first step was to demolish Tasha’s hut. Assaulting Rupert completed the picture.
It all added up. Separate sleeping quarters were no longer an option. Even if both huts had still been intact, Tasha needed to care for Rupert. They had literally forced him into her loving arms.
A number of things had previously seemed bewildering, but everything was slowly becoming as clear as a mountain stream.
How could he have been so blind?
From the beginning he’d believed the Ahrans were holding them for political leverage. The captivity offered an ideal opportunity to manipulate the kingdoms of Castel and Rogand. Now Rupert wondered if he understood them at all.
What could they possibly achieve by driving Tasha into his bed? Were they trying to weaken his standing in the eyes of the Rogandans? Or was there a different agenda?
Thoughts and possibilities rattled around in his head until he felt dizzy.
Try as he might, he could make no sense of it.
4
Bisri Ahuzza stepped forward into the throne room of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Hourahn II of Ahr. He had positioned himself to one side of the Grand Vizier and a couple of paces behind him. As soon as they approached the throne, both men came to a halt and stooped low.
Ahuzza had always found the throne room intimidating. He couldn’t help but be struck once more by the casual arrogance of its splendor, and the menace of the endless ranks of armed guards clad in imperial attire. He wondered if Rheibas ever experienced a similar reaction.
The emperor did not look pleased to see his most senior official. If the chief minister was aware of the emperor’s mood, he gave no indication. As ever, The Grand Vizier presented a calm and unruffled demeanor.
The emperor fixed Rheibas in a glare. “I have been informed that my daughter is currently in Rog. What have you done to ensure her safe return to Kat Ahket?” he demanded.
“I regret to say that the Rogandan king has imprisoned her, Your Imperial Majesty. After the duplicity shown by the Rogandans in her original disappearance, it is difficult to predict what they will do next. It is safe to say that restoring her to Your Majesty is not currently high on their agenda.”
“And what of the disappearance of the king of Castel and the Rogandan princess?”
“I hardly know, Your Majesty,” the Grand Vizier replied with a puzzled frown. “But it seems to be a vulgar business.”
The emperor frowned. “The Rogandans claim that they were abducted by Ahrans!”
Ahuzza tried to mask his surprise. He was not aware of their disappearance, much less any claim that Ahrans were involved.
He could only admire the effectiveness of the emperor’s intelligence gathering. The chief minister was head of the empire’s spy network, but the emperor clearly had independent sources of his own.
Rheibas did not falter. “Any such claim is a monstrous falsehood, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “The Castelan king was apparently courting the princess. It has been suggested that he absconded with her, perhaps out of fear that his suit was about to be refused by her father. I imagine the two of them will be discovered sooner or later in some remote bolt hole. It would not shock me if the Rogandan princess is found to be expecting a child.”
The chief minister dipped his head sadly. “The shame of such behavior must be difficult for the Rogandans to bear. But blaming the empire is dangerous folly. Perhaps it is an attempt to divert attention away from their own actions in making a hostage of Her Imperial Highness Princess Neira.”
The emperor did not seem happy, but the chief minister was unfazed.
“If you would assign to me four or five thousand soldiers and the necessary ships to transport them, Your Majesty, I believe I could quickly resolve the current impasse.”
The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “I will approve no such thing!” he protested. “Do not expect me to support a military adventure in Rogand, Chief Minister. Not without much stronger cause. Get back there promptly, and find a way to resolve the matter without squandering the lives of my soldiers or plundering my treasury.”
Rheibas bowed. “My diplomatic efforts will be redoubled, Your Majesty.”
“You are dismissed,” growled the emperor.
As the chief minister backed away, the emperor added, “Remain here, Ahuzza!”
Bisri Ahuzza stayed where he was, bowing respectfully.
As soon as the Grand Vizier had gone, the emperor turned to his envoy. “What do you make of this business involving the Castelan king and the princess, Ahuzza?” he asked.
The bisri shook his head. “It is the first I’ve heard of it, Your Imperial Majesty. My ships were not able to dock at Rog, so we remained at sea the whole time. We had contact with Ahran trading vessels, but the news I received through them might have been little more than hearsay. Do you believe your sources are reliable?”
The emperor waved a hand indifferently. “In this particular case the information is third or fourth hand—I wouldn’t have let Rheibas off so lightly if I had real reason for concern. Nevertheless, this situation has provided me with an opportunity to remind him that I have sources of my own. I lean heavily on him, but I will never allow myself to become entirely dependent on one official, however effective.”
Ahuzza nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty. You instructed me to operate independently when you gave me three ships and sent me to the region, but in practice the chief minister was my only source of reliable intelligence.”
The emperor grunted. “That situation has to change!”
He directed a troubled glance at Ahuzza. “What have you learned of my daughter?”
“I am aware that she was taken by pirates—or perhaps by the Rogandans—and is now being held in Rog by the king. Beyond that I know very little, Your Majesty. According to the reports I received she is quite well. I doubt that the Rogandans would risk mistreating her. As to what it would take to retrieve her, I cannot speak with any authority.”
The emperor scowled. “There is far too much I don’t understand about what is going on in Rogand,” he said. “And I find some of the priorities of my chief minister perplexing.” He shook his head. “Rheibas is a master at resolving political crises with little fuss and minimal loss of life. Why hasn’t he been able to secure the release of my daughter? Why his fixation with a military solution? And on the other side of the world! There are subtleties here I don’t understand.”
The bisri decided it was wisest to say nothing.
The emperor continued, “When Rheibas sails for Rogand, you will return as well with the ships you commanded last time. As before you will operate independently from the chief minister. But this time you are to establish your own contacts with the Rogandans.”
His face set hard. “I want my daughter back! And I want her back without a war! I cannot be expected to make sound decisions without reliable information, and I am no longer willing to limit myself to one person’s perspective on such a delicate situation. Too much is at stake! Make no representations on my behalf, but ferret out everything that is happening. Do it discreetly. When you learn anything of relevance, I want to know about it immediately.”
Bisri Ahuzza bowed.
“You are dismissed,” the emperor ordered.
The Grand Vizier’s summons to the royal palace had not extended to Bolnyk. Accordingly, Rheibas’s senior agent made his way to the Grand Vizier’s palace to await his master’s return. As soon as the audience with the emperor came to an end, Bolnyk expected the chief minister would want to meet with him.
He was not disappointed. Rheibas appeared sooner than the agent expected.
The chief minister pointed the way to his private conference room, and Bolnyk followed him in.
Calling for a servant, Rheibas ordered refreshments before adding, “Make sure I am not disturbed! Under any circumstances.”
The servant left, closing the door behind him.
“We have work to do, Bolnyk,” the chief minister said grimly. “As I expected, the emperor is not inclined to give me a free hand in Rogand. We will need to use other means to achieve our goals.”
Dipping his head in silent acknowledgment, Bolnyk aimed an inquiring look at the chief minister.
“Applying military pressure is not an option in the short term,” Rheibas told him, a sour look on his face. “Nevertheless, we have the resources we need. It is a simple matter of applying appropriate leverage in the right place at the right time.”
“I await your command, Your Eminence,” Bolnyk assured him.
Pulling out a map labeled “Arvenon and Surrounding Kingdoms,” Rheibas bent low over it. “This is what I need you to do.”
* * *
With the conference at an end, Rheibas met his senior agent’s eyes. “Do you understand?”
“I do, Your Eminence,” Bolnyk replied, pushing himself to his feet and offering a tight bow.
Attentive as always, he waited patiently for the chief minister to dismiss him. He intended to allow himself a few minutes to relax in his own modest quarters in the palace. Any respite would have to be brief. There were things he needed to do.
The chief minister had other ideas. “Come with me,” he barked.
Following Rheibas through a seemingly endless succession of echoing corridors, Bolnyk eventually found himself before a metal door in an unused wing of the palace.
Two guards stood outside. At the approach of the Grand Vizier, they snapped to attention.
“Open it,” growled Rheibas. “Then leave us.”
One of the guards unlocked the door. Tugging hard, he pulled it open. Given its thickness and weight, it must have been soundproof.
A dimly lit room lay within. Bolnyk caught a glimpse of a miserable and bedraggled man, his face vaguely familiar, sitting on a low bed. Bolnyk decided he had spotted him on at least one other occasion, although he knew nothing of the man’s history.
Rheibas flicked a hand, and the guards withdrew, positioning themselves out of earshot. Rheibas ordered Bolnyk, “Wait here.” Entering the room, he leaned heavily on the door to push it closed. In spite of his efforts, it remained slightly ajar.
A brief conversation ensued between the two men. Bolnyk caught no more than snatches of it.
Rheibas’s growl reached him faintly. “You…accompany me…Rogand…convince me or…sharks.”
“But…but I…I showed you…the…” the man sputtered loudly.
“Silence!” shouted Rheibas, cutting him short.
Bolnyk heard no more than muffled voices until Rheibas emerged.
Waving over the guards, the chief minister waited until they had secured the door, then he headed off, Bolnyk beside him.
As they walked, Rheibas issued a rapid series of instructions. “I am making you responsible for this imbecile. Bring him to my ship just before we leave for Rogand. Place him aboard in a secure location where no one can talk to him. The man is deranged, but in Rogand I might be able to find a use for his ravings, given the right audience. I expect him to arrive safely and in good health, but beyond ensuring that, do not speak to him or waste a minute of your time with him. Do you understand?”
When Bolnyk responded with a nod, the chief minister turned on his heel and walked briskly away.
The senior agent watched his master turn a corner and disappear. Then he gazed thoughtfully back the way they had come.
What possible interest could Rheibas have in the bedraggled creature hidden away in the room? What had the two men been talking about? And what audience could possibly benefit from the ravings of a madman? Was Rheibas looking for ways to confuse his enemies?
Bolnyk set off for his rooms absorbed in his thoughts. He knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to pry into his master’s business, and he had no intention of crossing that particular line.
Nevertheless, the situation was intriguing. A lunatic held no interest for him, but he couldn’t pretend his curiosity wasn’t roused, if only because the chief minister usually confided in Bolnyk, yet the senior agent knew nothing of this prisoner.
Raging seas made the voyage unusually hazardous for Bolnyk and the other passengers on the ship that bore the Grand Vizier toward Rog. Tossed about unmercifully, the senior agent had ample opportunity to ponder darkly the strange fascination that drew his master so far from home once more. Rheibas had invested considerable resource into establishing a presence in the region, to say nothing of the elaborate scheme involving the princess. Yet his senior agent had no idea what he was striving to achieve.
After a series of unusually mountainous waves had slammed into the ship, Bolnyk remembered the prisoner. He had seen him safely aboard, but Rheibas had also given him responsibility for delivering the prisoner to Rogand safely and in good health. Accordingly after collecting a loaf of bread, a lump of cheese, and a skin of wine, he lurched his way below decks to the section of the hold where the man was located.
Unbarring the door of the prisoner’s room, he pulled it open and stepped inside, holding high a candle. The flickering light revealed the prisoner standing in a dark corner, swaying unsteadily with the rolling of the ship. The chains clanking around the man’s ankles confirmed there was no risk of him escaping.
He threw the food onto the floor near the prisoner.
The man was eyeing him curiously. “You’re the Grand Vizier’s lapdog,” he observed, speaking in Rogandan.
“You have no idea who you’re talking to,” Bolnyk growled, firmly gripping a nearby beam of wood in an attempt to stay in one place.
“Probably not,” the man acknowledged. “But I do know that the Grand Vizier trusts you implicitly.”
“How do you conclude that?”
The man might have been shrugging, but it was impossible to be certain with the pitching of the ship. “He allowed you to see me, and he hasn’t executed you yet.”
The senior agent scowled. It was infuriating to think that a miserable lunatic might be privy to information the chief minister had kept from him.
He wondered again who the man was and what the chief minister wanted him for. He hadn’t forgotten either that Rheibas ordered him not to speak to the man at all.
Strangest of all, if the man was insane, he certainly hid it well.
Curiosity kept him lingering.
The man seemed to sense it. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”
With no response from the senior agent, a mocking grin came to the man’s face. “Of course not,” he smirked. “He would never share the knowledge with you.”
Anger welled up inside Bolnyk. Who was this cur to flaunt his secrets? He stepped closer, raising a hand to wipe the smirk off the ugly face.
The man shrank away, wincing fearfully. “I’ll tell him!” he shrieked.
Bolnyk stopped short before landing a blow. Turning his back on the prisoner, he staggered away, reeling with the motion of the ship.
Galling as it might be, the man was right. Bolnyk had been ordered not to communicate with the prisoner. He would have some explaining to do if he left the man with an injury.
The interaction had left him with more questions than ever. Still simmering, he headed away, acknowledging to himself that his anger was directed as much toward Rheibas as it was toward the prisoner.
5
Will Prentis sat with King Steffan and Queen Essanda of Arvenon in the king’s private audience chamber in the castle at Arnost.
“Can you describe the mood in Rog?” the king asked Will.
Will’s face grew grim. “Even before we left, King Krasmir was upending the city in his search for the princess and King Rupert,” he replied. “He found no sign of them.”
“Has he tracked down more of the Ahran agents?”
“He has. He somehow came into possession of a document listing the safe houses of Ahran agents throughout Rog and the surrounding countryside. He asked Lord Kulferan to surreptitiously observe a few of the sites to verify the document’s accuracy. When it checked out, Lord Kulferan carefully planned a series of raids before dawn one morning. The locations were raided simultaneously to prevent agents from warning their comrades. They netted a couple of hundred Ahran agents.”
The king looked shocked. “So many!”
Will nodded. “Lord Kulferan’s investigations revealed that some of the agents had been there for almost two years.”
“This has been long planned,” King Steffan observed grimly. “Why would the Ahrans take the risk of writing down the locations of their safe houses? Much less leave such a document lying around? It makes no sense.”
Will shrugged. “It probably wasn’t the Ahrans. The document was written in Rogandan, and it seems more likely that it was put together by someone else. The priests of the dark gods have their own sources of information, and the Varasans have a very effective network too.”
Will didn’t say so, but he himself was the author of the document. He had prepared it not long before he left Rog with his family. The information had come entirely from Thomas through the agency of the Stone of Knowing. Bolnyk, the man in charge of the Ahran agents, had unwittingly revealed the locations when Thomas finally got a good look at him. Not being literate in any language, Thomas had called upon Will to write it all down. Will had left the document where he knew King Krasmir’s people would find it.
