Chapter Nineteen

Mar awoke the next morning. Dryden sat beside the bed. Lieutenant Albans and Ugruz had obtained suitable accommodations for the troops and horses in a large caravanserai by the southern gate. The place was called Runkaban, and was, according to the proprietor, older than Unkabi itself. After the fight at Shuja’s manor, the 13th had fallen back to lick its wounds. One trooper was killed, and three more were injured. Two dozen of Shuja’s men were dead, including Shuja himself who had been blasted through the back wall of his own drawing room by Mar’s sorcery gone awry. Dryden had slept on a sofa, and given Mar the best bed in a private suite. The rest of the men were billeted in a much larger communal room. The suite was a large well-appointed room adorned with blue and white tile, carpets, tapestries, much the same kind that were found at Sala Shuja’s manse. Dryden supposed it was the style of the city. One wide tapestry showed a hunter taking a leopard, only for the leopard to kill him in return. It felt apt to Dryden.

Aisa An-Beya was bound and gagged and lying in the corner of the room on a cot. She was awake, staring at Dryden. He was doing his best to ignore her. She had no supply of aethium or other catalysts, and thus the harm she could now do was limited to the harms a normal person might consider. There was enough danger in that. He would not trust her to another’s care, not only because he knew that some men might take advantage of her situation, but also because he knew the danger. She was no mere princess and her sorcery was no frivolous thing. She was a necromancer and the architect of all the woes of Blackwater’s army. Sun was just coming through the hatched window of the room when Mar stirred.

The wizard’s eye opened and he looked around confused, “Where?” He croaked when he saw Dryden.

“We’re in a caravanserai. We’re still in Unkabi.”

“How long?”

“Only the rest of the day and one night,” Dryden replied.

“Did we get her?”

Dryden gestured to Aisa in the corner, “See for yourself.”

Mar pushed himself upright. Dryden handed him a canteen. Mar took a sip and leaned back against the wall next to the bed.

“Are you well?” Dryden asked, he knew better than whether to ask if Mar was able to ride. Mar would ride.

“Well enough for what?” Mar replied, “To travel? Perhaps. For sorcery? I very much doubt it, sir.”

“What was the spell you cast in that room?”

“A simple restraining spell, though I’ve never been able to do it quite like that before. I had no memories of being bound quite so well before my enslavement. The bounds of my power are growing beyond my grasp, sir.”

“I did not know you had the falling sickness, Mar. Did you hide it so you could enter the service?” Dryden asked quietly. He hated accusing his friend of such things.

“I did not know either,” Mar replied quietly, leaning forward.

As the wizard leaned forward, a beam of sunlight caught his pale face. Dryden recoiled slightly. The indigo that had taken his eye had grown and now filled the scar with an iridescent sheen. There was a slight gasp from Aisa. She had seen it too.

“What is it?” Mar sat upright again.

“Your scar. The mark has spread.”

Dryden went to Aisa who was on the cot and hauled her upright, “You know what this is, witch. Tell us,” He demanded.

Her golden eyes were furious. Her cheek and eye were now a mass of purple bruising. She smiled at him, “Your wizard is dying. Fools call it a blessing of the gods. It is the most wicked curse they have ever laid upon men.”

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“How come you to know this?”

“I have been to the black city, I know things to drive men mad.”

“Why do you fear this mark?” Dryden demanded.

“I only fear what all should fear.”

“What is that?”

“I fear the gods will rouse from their slumber and notice me.”

Before Dryden could respond, there was a knock at the door, “Enter,” he said loudly enough to be heard through the thick wooden door.

Sergeant Steele opened the door, came in, and snapped to attention with a smart salute. Dryden nodded back at him. The sergeant was a sturdy and tall middle-aged man with a chiselled jaw and a perpetual frown. He is face bore thick muttonchops that were just starting to grey. His barrel chest was barely contained by his black dragoon’s jacket, “Sir, there’s trouble in the courtyard. Better come quick.”

“Bring the witch,” Dryden told him, then stood to go. He had slept fully dressed.

Mar was mostly dressed. He pulled on his cavalryman’s boots, then grabbed his black jacket. Steele took Aisa by the arm and pulled her up. Then the four of them left the room. Mar buttoned his jacket as they went. They walked down the hallways of the hostel that were lit with dazzling colours as shafts of sunlight came through vibrant stained glass windows. Then they came out into the wide courtyard of the caravanserai, large enough to hold whole caravans when they stopped for the night. Several dozen riders had entered the courtyard. Most were on horse, a few were on camel. They were not Vuruni. All of the 3rd squadron of 13th stood around, most behind cover, carbines loaded and ready. Captain Khathan, Lieutenant Albans, and Ugruz stood in front of the riders. The proprietor of the caravanserai was standing between them speaking loudly. He did not want a fight. Steel held back with Aisa and Dryden and Mar strode out into the bright courtyard. Mar’s scar gleamed in the sunlight.

Dryden was most of the way across when he recognized the lead rider, and who these men were, “You!” He could barely contain the anger in his voice.

“Ah, Major!” The man’s voice was jovial as if he were meeting a long-lost friend, “My heart is glad to see you!” His Fyrin accent was thick.

“Jaqu Rovan,” Mar hissed.

“What do you want?” Dryden demanded as he approached the Fyrin officer.

Jaqu had been the advisor and emissary to Kurush and Aisa when they attacked and slaughtered so many Vastrum soldiers, sepoys, and their families. Dryden suspected it had been nearly as much his plot, as theirs. He was the agent of the enemy, the enemy that lusted after the aethium of Vurun. The man stared down at him with bright blue eyes and smiled disarmingly at him from behind a thin and neatly trimmed moustache, “Why Major, we seek only somewhere to rest our weary horses. It is only by happy chance that we find ourselves in the same ban.” Ban was the word for a caravanserai they used all across the eastern kingdoms.

“What are you doing here?”

“Playing the same marvellous game as you, I think,” Jaqu spread his hands wide.

“You called it a game once before. This is a game to you?” Dryden demanded, “You think this chess?”

“Is it not?”

“That does not do it justice.”

“And yet, it is a game. The greatest one that any man has ever played. Varo played it. Anzalan too. Others have played the great game, they are not famous for having lost it. It is the contest of empires upon the board of the east, ever seeking the stuff that dreams and power are made of.”

“You speak as a poet. I prefer the language of soldiers. Tell me what you are here for, or I will order my men to cut you down.”

“Crass of you. I thought we were having an intellectual conversation, Major. I find it very stimulating, swordplay less so. Very well, I will tell you, we are here in advance of our army. You have invaded Vurun in force. We are coming to deter further violence.”

“An excuse to conquer it yourself.”

Jaqu let out a sudden laugh, “Ahh, see now, you pretend to be a simple soldier, but you do understand the game! Now, I have told you the truth, are you a gentleman or a brute?”

“I find they are not always incompatible,” Dryden replied coldly, “Find yourself another place to stay.”

“Very well, you leave us no choice. Before we go, might I inquire as to what your plans are with the Lady An-Beya?”

“You may not.”

“Well, it is not hard to imagine, given her current state. I know well what you do with your political prisoners. Perhaps she is bound for Port Victor?” The man inquired.

“Is that where we sent you?” Dryden asked.

“Just so, Major, just so,” Jaqu got a faraway look on his face and frowned, then began to turn his horse away. He looked back at Dryden for a moment, “Word of advice, Major, do not stay in Vurun long. We are coming, and it’s a bloody game we play.” Then he kicked his horse and he and his men rode off and out of the courtyard in a cloud of dust.

“We’re letting him live?” Mar hissed the question at Dryden.

“We can’t afford to fight him today, we have more pressing concerns,” Dryden answered, turning back to where Aisa was being held by Sergeant Steele, “Witch, tell me what you know of the black city, tell me what you know of Dau, and of this curse that plagues my wizard. Know you a cure?”

Aisa laughed, her eyes like dancing fire, “You will not like what I say.”

Dryden was in a foul temper after seeing Jaqu, “Do not decide for me what it is I like,” He snapped. Then he turned to Captain Khathan who stood by silently, “Prepare the men to ride, we must retire from Unkabi. I mislike it here, this city keeps ill company.”

“Where do we ride to?” The Guludan Captain inquired.

“Ugruz, where is Dau?”

“South,” The big easterner grimaced as he answered.

“Then we ride south.”