Silverthorn

  Pug and Dominic bowed. Meecham waited to the rear, ignored, as was the custom. Pug said, ‘Greetings, Yagu. For two humble priests of Hantukama your presence is no interruption. Are you well?’

  Yagu said, ‘Yes, I am well,’ finishing off the formal greeting of strangers. Then he took on a lofty stance, crossing his arms and sticking his chest out. ‘What brings the priests of Hantukama to the house of my master?’

  Pug said, ‘We travel from Seran to the City of the Plains. As we passed by, we saw this estate and hoped to beg a meal for poor missionaries. Is this possible?’ Pug knew it was not Yagu’s prerogative to say, but he let the scrawny gardener play out the role of deciding.

  The gardener stroked his chin for a moment. ‘It is permitted for you to beg, though I cannot say if you will be turned away or fed. Come, I will show you the kitchen.’

  As they walked towards the house, Pug said, ‘May I inquire who lives in this wondrous abode?’

  Showing pride in the reflected glory of his master, Yagu said, ‘This is the house of Netoha, called “He Who Rises Quickly”.’

  Pug feigned ignorance, though he was pleased to know his former servant was still in possession of the estate. ‘Perhaps,’ said Pug, ‘it would not be too offensive for humble priests to pay respects to so august a personage.’

  Yagu frowned. His master was a busy man, but he also made time for such as these. He would not be pleased to find the gardener had presumed to fend them off, though they were little more than beggars, not being from a powerful sect, such as the servants of Chochocan or Juran. ‘I will ask. It may be my master will have a moment for you. If not, then perhaps a meal may be had.’

  The gardener led them to a door Pug knew led into the kitchen area. The afternoon sun beat down upon them as the gardener disappeared inside. The house was a strange design of interconnecting buildings Pug had built nearly two years before. It had started something of a revolution in Tsurani architecture, but Pug doubted the trend had continued, given the Tsurani sensitivity to political fortune.

  The door slid open and a woman stepped out, followed by Yagu. Pug bowed before she could get a look at his face. It was Almorella, a former slave Pug had freed, now wed to Netoha. She had been Katala’s closest friend.

  Yagu said, ‘My mistress graciously agrees to speak with the priests of Hantukama.’

  From his bowing position Pug said, ‘Are you well, mistress?’

  Hearing his voice, Almorella gripped the doorframe as she fought for breath. When Pug straightened, she forced herself to breathe and said, ‘I … am well.’ Her eyes widened and she began to speak his Tsurani name.

  Pug shook his head. ‘I have met your honoured husband. I hoped he might spare a moment for an old acquaintance.’

  Almost inaudibly Almorella said, ‘My husband always has time for … old friends.’

  She bade them enter and closed the door behind. Yagu stood outside a moment, perplexed at his mistress’s behaviour. But as the door slid shut, he shrugged and returned to his beloved plants. Who could understand the rich?

  Almorella led them quickly and silently through the kitchen. She struggled to maintain her composure, barely concealing her shaking hands as she brushed past three startled slaves. They never noticed their mistress’s agitated state, for their eyes were riveted on Meecham, the biggest barbarian slave they had ever seen, truly a giant among giants.

  Reaching Pug’s former workroom, she slid aside the door and whispered, ‘I will get my husband.’

  They entered and sat, Meecham awkwardly, upon plump cushions on the floor. Pug looked about the room and saw that little had changed. He felt a strange sense of being in two places at the same time, for he could almost imagine opening the door to find Katala and William outside in the garden. But he wore the saffron-coloured robe of a priest of Hantukama, not the black of a Great One, and a terrible peril was possibly about to descend upon the two worlds with which his fate seemed forever intertwined. Since beginning the search for a return to Kelewan, a faint nagging had started at the back of Pug’s mind. He sensed that his unconscious mind was operating as it often did, working on a problem while his attention was elsewhere. Something about all that had occurred on Midkemia had a faintly familiar quality to it, and he knew the time was soon coming when he would intuit what that quality was.

  The door slid open and a man entered, Almorella behind. She closed the door, while the man bowed low. ‘You honour my home, Great One.’

  ‘Honours to your house, Netoha. Are you well?’

  ‘I am well. Great One. How may I serve?’

  ‘Sit, and tell me of the Empire.’ Without hesitation, Netoha sat. ‘Does Ichindar still rule the Holy City?’

  ‘The Light of Heaven still rules the Empire.’

  ‘What of the Warlord?’

  ‘Almecho, he you knew as Warlord, acted with honour and took his own life after you shamed him at the Imperial Games. His nephew, Axantucar, wears the white and gold. He is of the Oaxatucan Family, one who gained by the death of others when … the peace was betrayed. All with stronger claims were killed, and many with claims as valid as his to the office of Warlord were … dealt with. The War Party is still firmly in control of the High Council.’

  Pug considered. With the War Party still in control of the nations, there would be scant chance of finding sympathetic ears in the High Council, though the Game of the Council would continue. That terrible, seemingly never-ending struggle for power might provide the opportunity for discovering alliance.

  ‘What of the Assembly?’

  ‘I sent those things which you instructed, Great One. The others were burned as you commanded. I received only a note of thanks from the Great One Hochopepa, nothing more.’

  ‘What is the talk in the market?’

  ‘I have not heard your name mentioned in many months. But just after you departed, it was said you attempted to lure the Light of Heaven into a trap, bringing dishonour on yourself. You have been named outlaw and outcast by the Assembly, the first to have the black robe stripped away. Your words are no longer as law. Any who aid you do so at peril of their lives, and the lives of their families, and the lives of their clan.’

  Pug rose, ‘We shall not tarry here, old friend. I would not risk your lives, nor the lives of your clan.’

  Netoha spoke as he moved to open the door. ‘I know you better than most. You would not do what they accused you of, Great One.’

  ‘Great One no longer, by edict of the Assembly.’

  ‘Then I honour the man, Milamber,’ he said, using Pug’s Tsurani name. ‘You have given us much. The name Netoha of the Chichimecha is upon the rolls of the Hunzan Clan. My sons will grow in greatness because of your generosity.’

  ‘Sons?’

  Almorella patted her stomach. ‘Next planting season. The healer priests think twins.’

  ‘Katala will be doubly pleased. First, to know the sister of her heart is well, and second, that you will be a mother.’

  Almorella’s eyes brimmed with moisture. ‘Katala is well? And the boy?’

  ‘My wife and son are well and send you their love.’

  ‘Return with our greetings and affection, Milamber. I have prayed that someday we may again meet.’

  ‘Perhaps we shall. Not soon, but someday … Netoha, is the pattern intact?’

  ‘It is, Milamber. Little has changed. This is still your home.’

  Pug rose and motioned for the others to follow him. ‘I may have need of it for a quick return to my own lands. If I sound the arrival gong twice, have everyone quit the house at once, for there may be others behind me who will harm you. I hope it will not be so.’

  ‘Your will, Milamber.’

  They walked out of the room and made for the pattern room. Pug said, ‘In the glade by the pool is the means for my return home. I would it remained undisturbed until I close it.’

  ‘It is done. I will instruct the grounds keepers to allow no one in the glade.’

  At the door Al
morella said, ‘Where are you bound, Milamber?’

  ‘That I will not tell you, for what you do not know cannot be forced from you. You are already in jeopardy for simply having me under your roof. I will add no more.’

  Without further word he led Dominic and Meecham into the pattern room and closed the door behind. Removing a scroll from his belt pouch, Pug placed it on the centre of a large tile pattern, a depiction of three dolphins. It was sealed with black wax, embossed with a large chop, from the ring of the Great One. ‘I send a message to a friend. With this symbol upon it, no one will dare touch it but him to whom it is addressed.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, then suddenly the scroll wasn’t there.

  Pug motioned Dominic and Meecham to stand next to him on the pattern. ‘Every Great One in the Empire has a pattern in his home. Each is unique, and when it is remembered exactly, a magician can transport himself or send an object to it. In a few cases, a location that is very familiar, such as the kitchen at Crydee where I worked as a boy, might serve as well as a pattern. It is usual to will a gong to sound, announcing our arrival, though I shall avoid that this time, I think. Come.’ He reached out and gripped each of them, closed his eyes, and incanted. There seemed to be a sudden blur and the room appeared to change about them.

  Dominic said, ‘What …?’ then realized they had transported to another place. He looked down at a different pattern, resembling an ornamental flower of red and yellow.

  Pug said, ‘The one who lives here is brother to one of my old teachers, for whom the pattern was emplaced. That Great One called here often. I hope we may still find friends here.’

  Pug went to the door and slid it slightly ajar. He peered up and down the corridor. Dominic stepped up behind him. ‘How far did we travel?’

  ‘Eight hundred miles and more.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Dominic said softly.

  Pug led them swiftly to another room, where the afternoon sunlight could be seen coming through a window, casting the shadow of the room’s lone occupant upon the door. Without announcing himself, Pug slid it open.

  Before a writing desk sat an old man, his once powerful body shrunken by age. He squinted at the parchment before him, and his lips moved silently as he read. His robe was a deep blue, simple, but finely made. Pug was shocked, for he remembered this man as a tower despite his advancing years. The last year had taken a toll.

  The man looked up at the intruders. His eyes grew large as he said, ‘Milamber!’

  Pug motioned his companions through the door and slid it behind. ‘Honours to your house, Lord of the Shinzawai.’

  Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, did not rise in greeting. He stared at the former slave who had risen to the rank of Great One and said, ‘You are under edict, branded traitor, and without honour. Your life is forfeit should you be found.’ His tone was cold, his expression hostile.

  Pug was taken aback. Of all his allies in the plot to end the Riftwar, Kamatsu had been among the staunchest. Kasumi, his son, had carried the Emperor’s message of peace to King Rodric.

  ‘Have I caused your offence, Kamatsu?’ Pug asked.

  ‘I had a son among those lost when you attempted to entrap the Light of Heaven with your deceit.’

  ‘Your son still lives, Kamatsu. He honours his father and sends affection.’ Pug handed Kamatsu the message from Kasumi. The old man peered at it for a long time, reading every character slowly. When he had finished, tears ran unashamedly down his leathery cheeks. ‘Can all this be true?’ he said.

  ‘It is true. My King had nothing to do with the deception at the truce table. Nor had I a hand in it. That mystery is long in explaining, but first hear of your son. He not only is alive, but is now counted highly in my nation. Our King sought no vengeance upon our former enemies. He granted freedom to all who would serve him. Kasumi and the others are freemen in his army.’

  ‘All?’ said Kamatsu incredulously.

  ‘Four thousand men of Kelewan are now soldiers of my King’s army. They are counted among the most loyal of his subjects. They bring honour to their families. When King Lyam’s life was in danger, the task of guaranteeing his safety was given to your son and his men.’ Pride shone in Kamatsu’s eyes. ‘The Tsurani live in a city called LaMut, and fight well against the enemies of our nation. Your son is named Earl of that city, as important a rank as Lord of a family, closer to clan Warchief. He is married to Megan, the daughter of a powerful merchant of Rillanon, and someday you will be a grandfather.’

  The old man seemed to gain in strength; he said, ‘Tell me of his life.’ Pug and Kamatsu began to speak of Kasumi, his life for the last year, and his rise, his meeting Megan just before Lyam’s coronation, and their rapid courtship and marriage. For nearly a half hour they spoke, the urgency of Pug’s mission forgotten for the moment.

  When they were done, Pug said, ‘And Hokanu? Kasumi asked after his brother.’

  ‘My younger son is well. He patrols the northern frontier against the Thun raiders.’

  ‘Then the Shinzawai rise to greatness on two worlds,’ said Pug. ‘Alone among Tsurani families can the Shinzawai make that claim.’

  Kamatsu said, ‘That is a strange thing to contemplate.’ His voice turned serious. ‘What has caused your return, Milamber? It is not only to ease an old man’s loss, I am certain.’

  Pug introduced his companions and then said, ‘A dark power rises up against my nation, Kamatsu. We have faced only a part of its might and we seek to understand its nature.’

  Kamatsu said, ‘What has this to do with your return here? What cause have you to return?’

  ‘In a vision, one of our seers confronted this dark agency and was addressed in the ancient temple language.’ He spoke of Murmandamus and the dark power behind the moredhel.

  ‘How can this be?’

  ‘That is what has caused me to risk a return. I hope to find an answer in the library of the Assembly.’

  Kamatsu shook his head. ‘You risk much. There is a certain tension within the High Council, beyond what is usual for the Great Game. I suspect we are on the verge of some major upheaval, as this new Warlord seems even more obsessed with controlling the nations than was his uncle.

  Understanding at once the Tsurani subtlety, Pug asked, ‘Do you speak of a final schism between Warlord and Emperor?’

  With a heavy sigh, the old man nodded. ‘I fear civil war. Should Ichindar press forward with the certainty he showed to end the Riftwar, Axantucar would be blown away as chaff upon the wind, for the majority of the clans and families still hold the Emperor as supreme, and few trust this new Warlord. But the Emperor has lost much face. For him to have forced the five great clans to the peace table only to be betrayed has robbed him of his moral authority. Axantucar is free to act without opposition. I think this Warlord seeks to unite the two offices. The gold trim on white is not enough for this one. I think he seeks to wear the gold of the Light of Heaven.’

  ‘“In the Game of the Council, anything is possible,”’ quoted Pug. ‘But look you, all were betrayed at the peace talks.’ He spoke of the last message of Macros the Black, reminding Kamatsu of the ancient teachings of the Enemy’s attacks upon the nation, and speaking of Macros’s fear that the rift would draw that terrible power.

  ‘Such duplicity shows that the Emperor was no more a fool than the rest, but it still does not forgive him the mistake. Yet such a tale may win him a little more support in the High Council – if support has any meaning.’

  ‘You think the Warlord ready to act?’

  ‘Anytime now. He has neutralized the Assembly by having his own pet magicians call its own autonomy into question. Great Ones sit in debate over their own fate. Hochopepa and my brother, Fumita, dare not take a hand in the Great Game at this time. Politically, the Assembly might as well not exist.’

  ‘Then seek allies in the High Council. Tell them this: somehow our two worlds stand linked again by some dark power of Tsurani origin. It moves against the Kingdom. It is power beyond human understand
ing, perhaps power to challenge the gods themselves. I cannot tell you how I know, but I feel certain that, should the Kingdom fall, then will Midkemia fall; should Midkemia fall, then surely will Kelewan fall after.’

  Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, former Warchief of the Kanazawai Clan, showed an expression of concern. Softly he said, ‘Can it be?’

  Pug’s expression showed he believed it true. ‘It may be I will be captured or killed. If so, I must have allies on the High Council who will speak this cause to the Light of Heaven. It is not my life I fear for, Kamatsu, but the lives of two worlds. If I fail, the Great Ones Hochopepa or Shimone must return to my world with whatever can be learned of this dark power. Will you help?’

  Kamatsu rose. ‘Of course. Even had you not brought word of Kasumi, even had our doubts about you been true, only a madman would be unwilling to put aside former grievances in light of such warning. I will leave at once by fast boat downriver to the Holy City. Where will you be?’

  ‘Seeking help from another. If I am successful, I shall plead my case before the Assembly. No one gains the black robe without having learned to listen before acting. No, my true risk is falling into the Warlord’s hands. If you do not hear of me in three days, assume that has come to pass. I will be either dead or captive. Then you must take action. Only silence will aid this Murmandamus. In this you must not fail.’

  ‘I will not fail, Milamber.’

  Pug, once known as Milamber, greatest of the Great Ones of Tsuranuanni, rose and bowed. ‘We must leave. Honours to your house, Lord of the Shinzawai.’

  Kamatsu bowed lower than was required of his station and said, ‘Honours to your house, Great One.’

  Hawkers shouted to passing buyers as the sun beat down. The market square at Ontoset was athrong with business. Pug and his companions had taken a place in the section of the plaza set aside for licensed beggars and priests. For three mornings they rose from under the protective wall of the square and spent the day preaching to those willing to stop and listen. Meecham would pass among the small crowds, holding out the beggar’s bowl. There was only one temple of Hantukama east of the Holy City of Kentosani – in the city of Yankora, far from Ontoset – so there was little risk of them being discovered by another wandering priest in the short time they would be staying in the city. The order was widely and thinly spread, and many who served had not seen another priest of the order for years.