The Swordmaster, page 16
After an extended silence, it all became too much for Schohtar. ‘Rogat, do you not wish to say welcome to your duke?’
‘Welcome, Schohtar.’
The duke had deliberately failed to use the word ‘marshal’ in his address, Rogat therefore dropping the title ‘duke’ in his response.
Karek whispered: ‘They wouldn’t even exchange snots if Schohtar had a nose.’
Forand entered the courtyard and stood beside Rogat – the same posture and features made them look like twin brothers.
‘So, it’s true then – Grand Swordmaster Garemalan the jade warrior.’ Schohtar’s voice echoed across the yard.
‘Duke Schohtar – you are welcome,’ said Forand matter-of-factly. Karek could see that he wasn’t playing the leave-out-the-title game.
‘We are here to have a word about the future of our beloved Toladar.’
‘Yes – we have three words: Let us speak.’ And with that, the ice was broken. Rogat beckoned two stable hands to take care of the horses while the duke and the count dismounted.
‘Do you have any more distinguished visitors in your fortress?’ asked the duke casually, glancing around as he pressed the reins into the stable lad’s hand so that the boy could bring his horse to water.
Karek felt himself get dizzy. He had endured so much over the past few months, why was this bothering him so much?
Rogat shrugged his shoulders. ‘Every soldier in this fortress from cadet to officer is a personality.’
‘I can well believe it. After all, soldiers are always the salt of the earth within a kingdom. But let us not converse here with the eyes of all and sundry upon us. Important news has brought me to you.’
‘Indeed, you are right. It brings little joy, parleying here in the dust, so let us make ourselves comfortable. Follow me into the main keep. Forand will accompany me.’
Schohtar looked at the swordmaster and understood immediately. ‘So, you are going by the name of Forand. Garemalan sounds much weightier – my personal opinion, of course.’ He made a sound that was intended to resemble a giggle – it sounded more like a rattlesnake on the point of attack, however. Then he nodded towards his companion. ‘Let us go in, Mondek.’
The four men disappeared behind the oak door and into the keep.
Sergeant Karson remained alone in the courtyard as the door slammed shut. Karek did not like the look on his face one little bit.
Impy blinked at Karek. ‘Why can’t the duke see you? Do you really think that he’s going to remember the son of an innkeeper?’
Karek didn’t miss the suspicious tone in his comrade’s voice.
The prince groaned. ‘Impy, I am certain that the man remembers me. He is highly intelligent and dangerous. And he wants to have me killed – something that I cannot prove, unfortunately.’
Oh boy – that’s enough loose talk for now!
He sounded as though he were at the end of his tether. ‘I cannot say anymore – the situation is confused. Trust me – please.’
Impy placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Linnek, I’m glad that you’ve told the truth for a change – even if only a bit of it. I am not the smartest, but I can sense how certain things are difficult for you and how you are being pulled this way and that. So, wait for the right moment – but don’t leave it for too long.’
‘Thank you, Impy. I will remember your words.’
The boys headed back down to the stone bench. After all, the boots were hardly going to polish themselves.
politic parleying
Forand still had memories of Schohtar from when the latter had merely been a count in the time before the battle of Tanderheim. So this was the first time he had seen him with his nose destroyed by war and torture – a haunting image of what human hands were capable of and clear evidence of why the duke hated Soradar so much.
‘Maks, abysmal loathing is like a burning lens, constantly swinging above your head, drying you out and consuming you. The question is – does Schohtar wish to take out his bitterness on all mankind?’
The four men were sitting in Rogat’s study. The modest ambience created by the bare walls and simple furniture did not seem to bother the distinguished visitors.
This time Rogat opened the discussion with a simple: ‘Well then, what brings you here, Duke Schohtar?’
The duke leaned back in his chair and put his hands together. ‘Toladar is in turmoil. It can hardly be a coincidence that the jade warrior has come out of the woodwork so suddenly.’
Forand could feel the man’s beady, alert eyes boring into him. He decided to come straight to the point. ‘You speak of turmoil?’
‘That is what I said.’
‘Turmoil that you want and have instigated.’
‘Someone must always begin, otherwise nothing ever changes. Change is necessary to protect and develop the kingdom.’
‘And to place you on the throne.’
Schohtar waved his hand dismissively. ‘That is merely a side-effect.’
‘Which you would selflessly suffer.’
‘Gentlemen – our loyalty to our beloved fatherland is what we all have in common.’
Rogat knocked on the table, his grey eyes fixed on the duke. ‘You still have not answered the simple question as to what has brought you to Fortress Beachperch.’
The duke wiped away a fleck of spittle from his swollen mouth. ‘Marshal Rogat. Your manner of speaking freely and directly is an honourable trait. I like it. We need men like you – straight talkers – particularly in difficult times such as these.’
‘Maks, praise from this toad is like a wet pile of puke in your bed.’
Schohtar raised his forefinger and continued: ‘There is more at stake than the title of king. There is the question of the very survival of Toladar. To ensure that, certain processes must be put in place.’ He paused. Then he added conspiratorially: ‘There are voices whispering that Tedore’s son, Prince Karek Marein, is enjoying your hospitality.’
‘Why are those voices whispering?’ asked Forand.
‘Because Tedore is hiding both himself, in his castle, and his son, somewhere else. There is nothing he loves playing more than hide-and-seek. An impressive aspect of his political nous. Of course, I am aware of your blood relationship to Tedore, but even apart from that, Rogat is considered one of the kingdom’s most loyal servants – answerable only to his own conscience. I am appealing to that very conscience now, for I am in need of your support.’
Rogat scratched his chin. ‘My support. I see. Let me consider for a moment. Hm. Who is the king of this country at present?’
Schohtar’s ugly mug wrinkled with amusement. ‘I know what you’re getting at.’
‘All the better. Who is king?’
‘Tedore.’ The name passed almost lovingly through the duke’s maltreated lips.
‘My sources tell me the very same thing. My soldiers and I serve the king of Toladar, and of course his dukes too, providing they are acting on the king’s behalf. Explain to me how you are acting on the king’s behalf.’
‘Au contraire, my friend. Quite the opposite – I wish to get rid of him and ascend the throne myself. I make no secret of it – so, let’s drop the rhetoric.’
‘Lovely that we can have an open discussion and identify the dissonances so quickly. Assuming you do “get rid of him” – to use your own finely honed words – then that would mean it wouldn’t be you ascending the throne, but rather, his son Karek. Or do you want to “get rid of him” too?’
‘Yes. Sure. Exactly. Well said,’ replied Schohtar, not beating around the bush.
‘Could you define “get rid of” with a little more precision?’
‘I shall offer them exile, while I lead Toladar to greater power.’
‘There are voices whispering that you have already attempted to have the two of them eliminated for once and for all,’ Forand suggested airily.
‘Why are those voices whispering?’ asked Schohtar gently.
Forand refused to be provoked. ‘Because these accusations are despicable and imply high treason.’
‘Quite right. And what happens to such miserable traitors who wish to kill the king and his son?’ Schohtar seemed to be visibly curious.
Rogat leaned back. ‘They are hanged by the neck until they are dead. In public.’
‘Well, now. Here I am, in the best of health, sitting comfortably in your convivial company. This suggests two possibilities: either I am no traitor or the accusations that I have openly and repeatedly made – namely, that Tedore’s rule is inconsequential and lily-livered – are, indeed, true.’
‘Or he is peace-loving and prudent,’ argued Forand.
‘Puh!’ At last, Count Mondek was contributing to the debate. ‘I made the acquaintance of the Soradian king, Pares Drullom, when I visited his palace. Drullom the Conqueror, as he is referred to. Although he has conquered nothing as yet, except for the heart of an Azari harlot, who straddles him at every opportunity. What is beyond dispute is this, however – Drullom rules, Tedore dithers. If we do not wish to become the north of Soradar, which, by the way, would mean the destruction of half our people, then we must act.’
Mondek glanced at the duke in the hope of meeting with approval. For a moment, it seemed to Forand as though Schohtar was going to pat the count’s head as if he were a good little poodle.
Rogat explained: ‘This is getting us nowhere. Tell us precisely what you want.’
‘With your support and that of Garemalan the jade warrior, my way to the throne will be smoothed without any major civil strife. I already have more supporters in my camp than Tedore does. The Warries against the Peacies – an uneven battle if ever there was one. Help me, therefore, to topple Tedore, to prevent a civil war and to create a Toladar that is able to defend itself. Not a hair on the heads of the Mareins – father and son – will be touched. They will be sent into exile. You have my word.’
‘The same word that you gave when you swore loyalty to your king?’ asked Forand calmly. For the first time, Schohtar’s tone expressed impatience.
‘Maks – this is going precisely as the duke has calculated. Now he will cunningly spice his arguments with a portion of artificial anger.’
‘I lay my cards openly on the table and you counter with excessive textbook morality. The latter will never win any wars – I hardly need to explain that to a warrior, let alone a mercenary. Yet, there they sit, proud and noble – Rogat the righteous and Garemalan the jade warrior. I needn’t add that they are also naïve, satiated and weary negotiators. Yet what I will add is this – they are so terribly kind and good that I fear for the very future of Toladar. This means that one of us must be the arsehole and wake us up from this life-threatening lethargy. The role of the arsehole is clearly mine to play. This is my fate. The fate of the strong, the nature of the strong, the responsibility of the strong. And I will not allow my strength to be castrated by simply being good. For this being good will merely fence me in and make me predictable to all and sundry.’ He raised his forefinger. ‘And believe me, this being an arsehole makes my task damned difficult. Wherever I go, a clearing develops around me. But I am willing to pay this price.’ His beady eyes were glittering. ‘The so-called bad is much more exciting, much more multi-faceted, much more revolutionary than the good. Good is weak. And whoever said that weak was good?’
Forand shook his head. ‘You can certainly weave your way with words. But your words will only plunge your homeland into civil war and cause the death of many people.’
‘Not merely my words but also my deeds if it comes to that – but let us leave that aside for the moment. I am open to ideas as to how we can calm the situation.’
‘You are the more resourceful of the two of us. Very resourceful, indeed. How do you see the handover of power? Traditionally, Tedore must die first, then his son Karek, before the dukes select a new king.’
‘Not if first Tedore and then his son officially forego the throne themselves. With your help and that of the two thousand soldiers who follow your command we can manage it without spilling too much blood.’
Rogat scratched his chin again. ‘I am an old man and follow old values and traditions. Unlike you, I feel myself bound to the king through my oath of loyalty.’
Schohtar shook his head regretfully. ‘And you, Garemalan, what about you? You left the royal court of your own accord, remember.’
‘Yes – because I despise politics and was disgusted by all the goings-on at court.’
‘From what I heard, it was those very “goings-on” that was your big mistake,’ replied Mondek scornfully.
For the first time in the parleying, Forand lost his equanimity. ‘We can settle this slander here and now in the yard, Mondek.’ The count had clearly hit the warrior’s sore spot.
Schohtar, for his part, seemed to consider his count’s remark as less than helpful in achieving his goals. At least, this was what Forand thought, but only because of the tone in the duke’s nasally voice – it was difficult to say whether his swollen lips were smiling sardonically, mockingly, ironically or amicably. If, indeed, they ever smiled at all.
With a wave of his hand, Duke Schohtar gestured to his count to be quiet. ‘Unlike Tedore, I follow a concrete plan. In doing so, I will go to whatever lengths and use whatever means necessary to attain my goal. Anyone who is not for me in this regard is against me. And anyone who is against me will turn to dust. Someone must separate the sheep from the goats, after all. I have more equipment at my disposal than Tedore and Drullom could ever imagine.’
His beady eyes were flashing again. As were the drops of spittle hanging from his chin. Once again, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
‘Maks, I have never in my life met a fellow who spews so much poison and gall.’
Schohtar looked first at Forand, then at Rogat. ‘Two heroes, unblemished and above reproach. Sweet. What would you do were Tedore to give the command to march against my fine Star Fastness?’
Rogat rubbed the grey stubble on his chin.
‘I shall wait and see. The subjunctive case does not an enemy make.’
‘Nor does it make friends.’ Schohtar was taking full advantage of his voice’s nasality. ‘I will give you ten days to consider whose side you wish to be on. Beware of which way the wind is blowing.’ At that, he got to his feet, signalling that the parleying was at an end.
Forand was still furious at Mondek’s disgraceful comment. What did he know, anyway? A thought had been running through the old warrior’s mind the whole time – what would happen if he simply stabbed Mondek and Schohtar to death, here and now? Wouldn’t this action save the lives of thousands of people? Or would someone else immediately take Schohtar’s place? The sheer audacity of the duke to march into the lion’s den and make such shameless demands. Not only audacious but also brave, Forand had to admit. And Rogat had promised them immunity at the gate beforehand. Schohtar had calculated everything brilliantly. He knew that both Rogat and Garemalan were too much the flawless heroes and honourable fighters to touch a hair of the visitors’ heads. It was particularly perverse that the duke seemed to be amused by the situation too.
‘I will accompany you out,’ said Rogat amicably, ignoring the duke’s final words.
Forand sat there as if paralysed. The moment for killing had passed. A short time later, Forand sat alone opposite the lord of the fortress.
‘Well, Rogat, old friend. Do you have something else to tell me?’
Forand could tell from the man’s eyes that he understood what the old warrior was getting at.
‘I promised Tedore I would say nothing. Now that you strongly suspect that the prince is here anyway…’
Rogat paused. He breathed in and out twice. Then he said: ‘Linnek is Karek.’
‘Maks – sometimes the truth can be summarised in only three words: Linnek is Karek.’
Forand didn’t move a muscle. Although he hadn’t known, hadn’t even suspected, this information didn’t surprise him one little bit. Who else but Cadet Linnek? A remarkable boy. Ever alert, with a quiet, engaging charisma, but also loud when he had to be. He had heard from various sources the stories of the lad’s verbal altercations with Captain Bostun. Whenever the tales were related, there was an undertone of respect for the boy, even in the voices of the soldiers who had tended to side with Bostun. A soldier could earn no higher honour than the respect of their enemy.
His regard for Karek increased even more when Rogat related the cadet’s experiences with the hired assassin in the forest of wasps and of his excursion in the middle of the night.
‘The prince willingly met the crow who had been on the point of assassinating him?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t help thinking of that when Schohtar referred to Tedore as inconsequential and lily-livered. That is something that the prince can certainly not be accused of.’
‘What now?’ Forand suddenly felt overwhelmed.
‘Let’s allow the recent parleying to sink in for a while.’
Forand stood up – his knees cracked loudly. ‘I will tell Karek that I know, the next time I see him. I’m too old for pretending otherwise.’
the blackbird
The sun was low, the shadows growing longer. Her steps too, for she was impatiently walking westward along the little track on the right bank of the Karpane river, searching for a ford. She believed she was able to swim across the Karpane despite its strong current, but she preferred to avoid it possible.
Generally, when she wandered, she enjoyed the loneliness of nature and its wildness, which was underscored now by the sound of the flowing river. But soon there would be no more daylight and it was time to seek out a sleeping place.
Not for the first time, she cursed herself for having been so stupid as to agree to this journey to Castle Cragwater so that she could warn King Tedore about the traitor Magister Korn. Assassinating the king – such a contract would, of course, have made sense, but not this – requesting an audience with him. Your Most High Majesty, please find it in your heart to spend but a minute with this most humble, not to say insignificant creature. I have only one tiny, nay infinitesimal matter to bring to your august attention. You are such an idiot for having hosted a traitor since time immemorial in your abode – a person who, every time you visit the privy, gives a detailed account of your actions to your arch enemy.
