Days later, and after much work, the die had not yet fallen.
Sahshir had spent the time since Nagos had left improving the defenses. The harbor was secured with towers and a chain across it. Meanwhile, Marius began drilling the militia properly and rebuilding the towns. He had nothing but unkind things to say about their state in private.
Though they softened his words when speaking to figures of authority.
Messages were sent out to every plantation, the fastest runners. Others were sent by boat to land near them. Romilus assured them that it was only half a day to the nearest plantation, at the least.
"Why so spread out?" Sahshir had asked him.
"Well, the landowners control most of it," said Romilus. "We don't have the same small farms you'd see in Dinis. So much of the land around this town belongs to them.
"There are some tenants, of course, but they don't control the land. Merely take care of things we don't trust to the slaves."
And that had left them waiting. And waiting.
Sahshir despised waiting. He far preferred to attack problems directly. But the scouts dispatched into the wilds to find Garrick had yet to bring anything. Moreover, Narcissa was nowhere to be found, and Sahshir doubted she'd be of much help in any of this in the first place.
What he really feared was an alliance between Garrick and Garacel. If the two combined their efforts, they could both raise and train an army of their own. It would be one that outnumbered Sahshir's own forces by ten to one.
"Where are they?" Sahshir hissed one day after a day of settling disputes and easing tensions.
"The messengers ought to have returned by now with the replies," said Romilus. "Perhaps they have been intercepted."
"Don't be absurd," said Sahshir. "Garrick and Garacel could not have caught all of them at once. Is it possible the planters are deliberately delaying?"
"They may be considering their reply," said Romilus.
"Considering their..." Sahshir checked himself, greatly desiring to slash something. "I gave an order by the authority vested in me from the Emperor. I told them we needed men for the militia. If the situation was so bad that they could not spare any, they should have sent back a flat refusal." He turned around. "Dozens of planters. Hundreds of freemen. Thousands of slaves.
"And apparently, not one of them has any sense."
"They may not understand the need," said Romilus. "Most battles between nations leave Macshore intact so as not to destroy the profits-"
"Garacel doesn't care about profits," said Sahshir. "He wants to win. And he is willing to utterly and completely annihilate his own holdings to do so. So if sending this entire island to the grave is the best means of gaining victory, he will do it."
"It may be wise to explain that to them directly, then," said Romilus. "Remember, you are a Kalthakian. One of the... well... one of those races from which many of our slaves come. These men prefer to avoid being told what to do with their resources at the best of times. They resent taxes from Dinis, as well as everything else we order.
"That such an order has come from you... well... it may have been considered some form of conspiracy."
"If I wanted to free their slaves, I would march up to their plantations and kill them all." snapped Sahshr. "I need no conspiracy to destroy a nation populated entirely by people who hate it.
"I will ensure they understand that when I draft their men for military service. Munrus of Antrus is the closest, is it not?"
"Yes," said Romilus. "He's one of the larger ones, and his family has been here since MacShore was taken from Sorn.
"Actually, before that. Many of the plantation-owning families have seen several different nations. They have their own cultural identity, and many have spoken of independence. They don't like taxes."
Sahshir stared at him. That was funny.
Then it happened. Before he knew what was happening, he began to laugh. He shook physically as he thought of these men staging a revolution. Romilus blinked as he looked at them, and Sahshir realized his body was in pain.
It was becoming quite agonizing, and that stopped it.
For the most part.
"Is something funny, King Sahshir?" asked Romilus.
"The idea of a revolution by this island," said Sahshir. "You have an upper class who owns all the land and keeps the freeman entirely in their power. Meaning there is no means by which a freeman may improve his lot.
"So if such a revolution succeeded, the freemen would immediately try to kill all the rich. They'd want to take their lands. With no legions to call on from outside, there would be no means to keep the social order intact. Meanwhile, the vast majority of the population hates the rest of it with a fiery passion. Given a chance, they would murder everyone involved to take the land for themselves.
"With extreme acts of terror, perhaps you could keep the lower classes in line. But only until a new nation came along, killed everyone, and created their own plantations."
"I think you overestimate the slaves," said Romilus. "You see, they hardly understand orders. Often they feign illness to get out of work. They are a lazy and stupid race."
"Do I look lazy and stupid to you?" asked Sahshir, not amused.
Romilus froze. "I... I meant no offense to you, but surely..."
"Every race in the universe can be both a terrible enemy and a steadfast friend," said Sahshir. "Do not underestimate our enemy. If I were a slave, forced to labor for a master I despised, I might feign stupidity. By doing so, I could hurt him without fear of punishment. Wouldn't you?"
Romilus shuddered with the look of one who noticed a terror he had ignored for years. "I am certain Munrus will understand our plight. Just be wary, it is harvest time, and tempers tend to flare."
"I'll be certain to be cordial, of course," said Sahshir.
Even so, he hardly felt cordial as he strode down the road with his guards. Marius came as well, marching alongside a portion of his forces. It was only a short time before they came to the fields, where even now, people were working in chains. There were satyrs, dwarves, humans, and even some elves.
"Move at it, satyr!" snarled a taskmaster, cracking a whip. "If these aren't done by the end of the day, I may decide you're not worth the food you eat!
"Get at it!"
One man staggered and fell, obviously exhausted. The taskmaster moved forward, raising a whip. "You, get on your feet before I crush 'em!"
The old man staggered up and moved on.
"Another glorious foe of Dinis vanquished, farmer?" asked Sahshir.
"Enforcer, actually." said the man quickly. "My job is to keep this lot working so they don't have time to plan anything. So who are you folk coming down here?"
Sahshir supposed he should be glad he was not dismissed for his race. Perhaps it was the weapons. Though it was, Marius came forward. "I am Captain Marius of the X Dinis Legion. With me is our ally, King Abdul Sahshir of Kalthak. We are here about the levees. A message was sent; did you receive it."
"Well, I did see a messenger ride down here." said the man. "Didn't say anything to me, just moved to the big house. Then he headed back.
"Might have been shot. There are gangs of escaped slaves that live in the wilderness. We've been trying to wipe the bastards out for years, but, well, there are always more defiant ones to fuel them.
"I remember once we caught near the entire gang and crucified them along that roadway.
Course, one escaped, that devil Bas. And he went and started things all over again."
"My sympathies," said Marius far too easily. "Where is your master? I would speak with-"
"Abdul, Abdul, is that you?" came a cry.
Abdul looked up and saw an old man with white hair. Had the hair been black, it would have looked like someone he'd known when young. Was that... Aresif?
"Quiet you, we've heard enough from-" began the man.
"Stay your whip, taskmaster," said Sahshir, coming forward. "Aresif? The storyteller. How did you come to be here? I thought you were killed by pirates."
"I was taken as a slave and sold here," said Aresif, his skin scarred and body tanned from the sun. "Please, Sahshir, for the love of your father, set me free."
Sahshir felt nothing at seeing him, though he knew he should. He had an obligation to him and nodded. "I will see to the matter personally. You, I would buy this slave's freedom. Unchain him."
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"You want me to-" began the taskmaster.
"How much?" asked Sahshir flatly.
"He cost us thirty silver." said the taskmaster, voice hostile.
"You're a liar," said Sahshir, who'd kept abreast of prices. "Aresif disappeared five years ago and was just another slave to you then. How quickly you seem to recall a price well above anything reasonable."
"Enough," said Marius quickly. "We have no more time for this. We will take the man as payment for being forced to come here. Open the chains, or we'll break them."
The taskmaster eyed them. He was aware that they could quickly chop him into tiny pieces. "Whatever you say."
The chains were unlocked, and Aresif came forward. Sahshir offered him some water, and as he did, he saw other Kalthakians crying out to him. He could not free them all, not now. For a moment, he looked at them, then away.
"Thank you, Sahshir," said Aresif, clasping his hand. Then he saw the ring on it, one Sahshir hardly thought about. "You have become a King? Is Aresh then dead?"
"In a manner of speaking," said Sahshir, wondering how the man had recognized him.
"Why do you go masked?" asked Aresif. "Has the curse..."
"Yes," said Sahshir, helping him up. "I do not have much longer."
"I'm sorry," said Aresif arose. "Though I expect I won't last much longer either. Did you ever marry or have children?"
"My uncle will succeed me," said Sahshir.
"Well, at least you wear the ring of rulership," said Aresif.
They journeyed on, and Aresif walked with them, asking many questions. "How fairs Kalthak?"
"I am more concerned for you," said Sahshir, reflecting that Aresif's understanding of the slaves' plight could be useful. "What kind of man is the master of this place?"
"I don't know, I've never seen him," admitted Aresif. "I work day and night to harvest his sugarcane. I'm the only one of my generation left alive. Though, it's better than the sugar plantations."
"Why?" asked Sahshir.
"They don't feed you at the sugar plantations," said Aresif. "Slaves die so quickly from what goes on there that it isn't worth the money. They just work them to death. The owner of this area doesn't do sugar; he prefers to sell food."
"What do you mean that you're the last of your generation?" asked Marius.
"Yes, the slaves imported in my shipment," said Aresif. "They work us until we break, but this old man does not intend to satisfy them.
"House slaves have a better lot, provided they don't anger their master.
"But I don't know his nature."
"We had best be silent," said Sahshir. "We're approaching the manor."
And silent, they went.
When they finally arrived, they found that the main building on the plantation was a huge manor. Oddly enough, there was only one door. The lower walls were of stone, but the woodwork was fairly elaborate. Sahshir wondered how it had been built, even as he slowed to walk behind Marius.
Out of doors came a man, fat in the stomach but not without muscle. He had a mustache, a sharp contrast to the clean-shaven men of Dinis. With him were men with spears, though they wore no uniform. The man, Munrus, Sahshir presumed, bowed quickly. "A Captain of the Legionnaires here? I am Munrus, the owner of this plantation. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"A matter of great importance," said Marius. "Messengers were sent to call up a levy of able-bodied men in order to defend against Sorn.
"Yet none have arrived from you or the other planters."
Munrus immediately went silent. "I see.
"We will do no such thing."
"You mistake an order for a request," said Marius.
Munrus shifted under Marius' gaze, then looked to the fields where slaves were looking on. "If I follow that order, this whole plantation will collapse in on itself!" he said in a low tone. "Why should I sacrifice even a day's profit so you legionnaires can laze about? I need these men to keep control of the slaves. If I send them away, the slaves will start plotting against us.
"They're always scheming something in their slave tongue. So you'll have an army of slaves rising up as soon as you defeat the Sornians."
"Slave tongue?" asked Marius.
"A mixture of the races," said the man. "We tried forcing the animals to room with those they didn't speak the language of, but they've figured one out."
Marius looked disturbed at this. "Surely they are men like you are or I. Even if they are reduced to slavery."
"They are my property, and I'd ask you not to tell me what to do with them," said Munrus. "And who are these dark skins? Are they stolen property?"
Sahshir's hand was to his sword before he could stop himself. He, the King of Kalthak had been called a slave. The man would die here. But his hand was caught by Marius. "Forgive the disrespect, Sahshir. He does not know who you are, and our plight is dire."
Sahshir held Marius' gaze for a long moment. Then, finally, he sheathed it. "I will put the matter from my mind for now." He made a mental note to kill the man as soon as the threat was ended. Or perhaps he could arrange for him to be put into a position to be killed? Baltoth taught that indirect revenge was the best kind since it couldn't be traced back to you.
Marius then turned to Munrus. "You have just insulted a King, Munrus. And a trusted ally who is a personal friend of the Emperor himself.
"You will apologize immediately."
Munrus shifted. "I... was unaware of your noble blood, of course. You have my apologies; most of my time has been spent with... the less intelligent parts of your race."
Sahshir took the apology for what it was. "The matter is ended."
"In any case," said Marius. "You seem to have mistaken the strategy of the enemy. Their plan is to start a slave revolt. If all the slaves in this plantation were to rise up at once, would you be able to stop them?"
"They would not manage it," said Munrus. "We ensure they know their place and can't communicate. My family has been doing this for generations."
"And I have no doubt your methods are sound," said Marius. "Still, what if they were to be freed and organized? Imagine an army with nothing to lose, brought under the heel of a competent leader. An army that goes from plantation to plantation, killing without mercy. As they do, they gather greater strength and kill all they find.
"Once the enemy gains momentum, we will have difficulty stopping them. That is why we need your men to act as guides." Marius looked around. "Naturally, we will give you half their pay as compensation."
Munrus shifted. "...Well, I suppose I could spare some of my better pathfinders. We use them to track down escaped slaves. We've learned to keep things as they ought to be well." He glanced at one of the rough-looking men. "You, get Akath One-Eye down here with his men and dogs. We'll lend him to these."
"Blood..." said a voice from everywhere and nowhere.
Sahshir looked up and felt it coming. Drawing the Sword of Order, he planted it and used its power. He felt the wave flowing over the land and set himself against it. Then, like a tsunami, it slammed into his will, washing over him.
Screams came from around them.
"Ready your weapons!" said Sahshir. "The enemy comes!"
"Do as he says," said Marius. "Sahshir knows this."
The men quickly prepared, grasping weapons as noncombatants were herded into doors. Soon, some of the men from before came running. "Master, we've got a rebellion on our hands!"
As they did, the slaves came forward. Old men, old women, ones who walked with limps. They rushed forward, writhed in a blackness, snarling like feral animals. Finally, one of the men was overtaken and beaten to death.
"What is this?" said Munrus.
"KILL THEM!" roared Garacel. "SLAUGHTER THE SLAVERS! DEATH TO THE TASKMASTERS!"
"Legionaries, form up at the gate!" said Marius. "Sahshir-"
Sahshir charged forward to meet them, rushing forward with his blade. Slashing the air, he sent forth his will. It clashed with the blackness, fighting the curse upon them. Yet Sahshir saw that all of these people were unlikely to survive long. They had languished in silent bondage with unending hatred suppressed out of fear.
Order could not drive it out.
The curse of hatred remained, and they were on him. Stepping back, Sahshir tried again and had some results. The blackness faded in a few, who died at once. Then he was fighting for his life, hacking and slashing. Limbs were cut, and hearts pierced before his men joined him.
"DEATH BEFORE CHAINS!!" came Garacel's voice again.
"What is this?
The slaves pressed on with greater and greater hatred. As they did, they were writhed in more blackness. Soon they seemed to take on the monstrous form of demons. In moments, several of Munrus' men were ripped to shreds, and most of the rest ran. Sahshir saw one of his warriors cleave down one of the demons, only to be impaled from behind.
Marius' legionnaires joined the fray, hacking with their swords. Soon the fighting became fiercer as more demons in the guise of slaves came forward. And then Munrus returned, holding a sword and leading the rest of his men.
Soon the battle was going on further as claws met weapons. The screams of the dying were everywhere. One enemy after another was killed, and yet there were always more.
Of course, there were.
The slaves outnumbered the masters by more than ten-to-one. Fear held them in check, and now hatred had driven them past that fear. Garacel's power had inspired them to fury unimaginable. It had blessed them with a chance for vengeance.
Vengeance.
The hope of men with no hope. The chance to hurt those who have stripped all dignity, all chance for the betterment from you.
There were no Kalthakians in this place, Harlenorians or Sornians, or any other. These men had been stripped of their identities, goals, and desires. They had been rendered no more than animals. And now they had arisen in bloody fury. The eradication of those responsible is their sole purpose for being.
And then there were only corpses among them.
Many of Munrus' men had been killed, and a few of Sahshir's men had died. Marius's force was, for the most part, unscathed. Still, at least the local militia were somewhat valuable. They might make adequate arrow fodder.
Still, why were only the old, the infirm, the sick, and the blind here? None of these slaves could be considered able-bodied. "This isn't all of them," said Munrus. "Where are the rest?"
"A distraction." guessed Sahshir. "These slaves are all sick, old, or crippled. Someone must have sent these ones to attack us while they drew off a large portion of the healthier slaves.
"Search the fields; look for survivors."
The fields, as it turned out, had been set on fire. The crops had been harvested and taken off, and what could not be taken was burned. As a result, bodies were all around them.
"That's thousands of silver worth of property!" said Munrus in horror. "My crops will rot in the field!" So there was such a thing as justice.
"I would say we have far more serious issues." Sahshir said, glancing to Aresif. "Was there some sort of plan?"
"No, the masters always try to keep us isolated," said Aresif. "There is no way they could have organized this many slaves without someone hearing about it. And how could they get them to die like this?"
"I do not know," admitted Sahshir, reflecting that they were better off now. At least they had died while killing many of their oppressors. Any world with fewer people like Munrus would be better by all accounts. "But Narcissa may well be the one to find out."
And then a messenger rushed up. "Captain Marius, the other plantations are being attacked!"
"Damn it all, quickly make for it," said Marius.
Sahshir shook his head.
"No," he turned to Munrus, "you, get your men and go to aid the other plantation. Marius, you should return to the city."
"What?" said Marius.
"These slaves are being gathered for a reason," said Sahshir. "If the main city is left undefended, they could launch an assault on it overnight. I'll see to helping the other plantations."
"Why are we helping the slavers?" asked Aresif.
"One has to fulfill the obligations to one's allies. That was what I was taught," said Sahshir. And if Munrus had to handle his own defense, it might teach the people here a valuable lesson. Something to do with biting the hand that fed them. And it might get his people killed.
So, all in all, Sahshir couldn't lose.
"Yet many who are slaves here are Kalthakians lost in the wars," said Aresif. "Will we kill them as well?"
"They've been driven mad, or so it seems to me," said Sahshir. "Once this is over, I'll see about trying to free our brethren. Now come, we have work to do."
One or two problems, but all in all, a reasonably productive day. They weren't any less doomed. But the world was still gaining sentients worth having. Violence truly was a cleansing force.