The New World

Chapter Forty-nine

36th day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Quunkun, South Moriande

Imperial Nalenyr

Kaerinus’ expression made clear the fact that he was not bringing good news. If possible, it was even worse than word that the vanyesh had been destroyed. That had hit Nelesquin particularly hard because the vanyesh were crucial to generating more troops.

The Prince knotted his robe’s sash. “What is it now?” He held up a hand. “No, wait, I know it has to do with Qiro.”

“It does, sire, and your troops.”

Nelesquin shook his head. He took the small leather pouch from inside his sleeve, poured the scrying stones into his palm, then let them dribble through his fingers. They bounced across a tabletop. He read the pattern, the play of black and white stones, the angles at which they rested, and let go a large sigh.

“Not a complete disaster. Tell me.”

“I wish telling would suffice. You need to see it.”

“I have no desire to ride south at the moment.”

“No need. He brought a company here.” The magician led the way through the corridors of Quunkun. Pairs of Durrani warriors had been stationed every twenty feet to deal with intruders. They snapped to attention, hammering right fists to left shoulders as Nelesquin passed.

“Remind me, Kaerinus, to choose a new Dost. I should have done that already.”

“That, Highness, is perhaps the only bright spot in this whole affair. Holgaara of the Ox clan has worked tirelessly to drill these new soldiers. Working in the pocket world has not only aged him, but apparently made him wiser. The new soldiers follow him almost fanatically.”

If they follow him that closely, I will eventually have to destroy him.

They descended broad circular stairs to a vast storeroom just below street level. It had been cleaned out of anything useful. There had been some rice available and, when it turned out that it was not poisoned, it was distributed to the troops. Still, I would have thought there would have been some of it left.

Qiro awaited them, Holgaara beside him. The new troops waited behind them, arrayed in neat ranks ten wide and deep. They contrasted poorly with Holgaara. They contrast poorly with Qiro.

Nelesquin glanced at Kaerinus. “I thought you said they brought me troops. These are shallow-skulled, stoop-shouldered wildmen. We’ve not seen their like in these parts for eons, and these are more brutish than ones that haunted the jungles of Ummummorar.”

Qiro smiled. “You will find, Highness, that you are mistaken.” The cartographer joined him at the base of the stairs, then nodded to the Durrani.

The blue-ski

The drill continued. The sharp clack of wood on wood echoed within the storage chamber. More soldiers went down and a few would never rise again. The injured, when they could, crawled away and the survivors paired up again.

Nelesquin clapped his hands once and Holgaara shouted an order that ended the fighting. The warriors sprang into their ranks again, with little concern for their fallen comrades.

“You have done well, Holgaara. Take your troops back and continue training.”

The Durrani bowed, then shouted another order. The injured and dead were hauled away, leaving the three men alone in the bowels of the Bear Tower. Nelesquin descended the last step to the room’s floor, spread his arms wide, and turned back to face Qiro.

“How is it, Master Anturasi, that I ask of you a simple thing, and you fail to deliver it even after you tell me you can?”

“You asked for an army, and I found it for you.”

“I wanted you to build me an army. You said you could breed Durrani and women here. What happened?”

Qiro’s expression hardened. “What happened, sire, is that no one took into account what we did when we created the Durrani. On Anturasixan we had ample food. We did not have enough here to grow another army.”

“Not enough food?” Nelesquin frowned. “Our stores, Kaerinus?”

“Ru

“Good.” He rubbed the center of his forehead. “How, Qiro, did you find these brutes?”

“Be careful calling them brutes, Highness, for they have more claim to this land than you do.” Qiro smiled slowly in the ma

“I am aware of the vagaries of agriculture, Master Anturasi.”

“I’m sure you are, Highness. So I wished to explore reaping more grain. My limits here, of course, pertain to things that are known, so I wanted harvests that were unknown. Records have been kept throughout the Imperial period-rather exact ones, if one knows which minister to bribe. I had to delve past that, so I did, into the time before.”

“The time before?”

“Yes.” Qiro’s smile grew. “You yourself noted that men such as these had not been seen in this area for eons. This is because I have opened a path to history and have brought them forward into my pocket world. They breed prodigiously. Half of them I have slaving to gather food, the other half train as soldiers.”

“How many do you have?”

“Twenty thousand.”

Nelesquin’s jaw dropped. “Twenty thousand? When did you start?”

“Just after I began the river’s narrowing.” Qiro nodded. “Ten thousand more become available each day, fully trained and armed. You will have ninety thousand when the walls collide.”

Nelesquin covered his mouth with a hand. As crude as they were, the brutes might work, making up in numbers what they lacked in quality and endurance. Waves of them pouring over the river wall and invading North Moriande could sweep away all resistance. There was no way the Empress could kill all of them.

“Kaerinus, work with Holgaara. He is the new Dost. Have him reorganize the forces. I want Durrani in charge of each brute unit. Have the brutes work with our remaining creatures so they get used to each other. I ca

“As you wish, Highness.”

Nelesquin nodded, then graced Qiro with a bow. “You have done well, Master Cartographer. My victory shall owe much to you.”

“ Our victory, Highness.” Qiro returned the bow. “And this is not all I shall do for you. The enemy might prepare themselves for what you will bring, but they never can be prepared for what I bring.”

Urardsa, the Soth Gloon, lurked like Grija’s shadow in my room. Pale, with an oversized head and seven eyes, black and gold, he watched me pull on a clean robe and tie my hair back. I caught his reflection in the mirror, as I dabbed at a bloody droplet on my neck-a remnant of shaving.

“Say whatever you have to say, ghoul, and no riddles.”

“Virisken Soshir dies soon.”

I laughed. “You can’t even pretend to be direct.”

“This mission to assassinate Nelesquin will be the end of you.”

I turned. “The end of me, or the end of Virisken Soshir?”

The Gloon opened his hands but remained mute.

“When I recovered the memory of who I had been, you told me I could die, but I think I was already dead. I think Virisken Soshir died when Nelesquin did, and was only resurrected because Nelesquin was. What started so long ago has to be finished. If that means I die again if he does, too, my life will have served well.”