Glenda Larke: The Heart of the mirage

I felt a pang of regret. He'd asked before, and my answer had always been the same. And yet, sometimes I wondered if it might not be pleasant to be married. He came from a good provincial family and such a marriage would have added yet another layer to the legitimacy of my Tyranian citizenship. And, of course, it would have helped his career to be married to a general's adopted daughter. I smothered a sigh. 'It wouldn't work, Favo. And if you were honest, you'd admit it. I have all the attributes of your ideal lover, but none of your ideal wife. The very things you admire in me now would be the snags that put holes in a marriage.'

'How so?'

'You admire my independence, you like my fire and passion and lust for life – but you would want to

tame me if I were your wife. You wouldn't want me to be part of the Brotherhood for a start, would you?' Favonius was one of the few people who was fully aware of the extent of my Brotherhood connections.

He gave a quick frown. 'How can I feel happy with it? It's dangerous. It's not work for a woman. It's -'

I interrupted. 'It's what keeps me alive, Favonius. I need excitement and challenge. But because I'm a woman I'm not allowed to be a legionnaire or a seamaster or a trademaster or anything else adventurous or challenging. So I work for the' Brotherhood. You would take that away from me if I were your wife – and then wonder why I was no longer the woman you had fallen in love with.'

'As my wife you could follow the legion, I suppose,' he said doubtfully. 'Would that be excitement enough?'

'It would be eating the dust of the Stalwarts without being able to participate in their battles. Could you do it?'

He looked astounded. 7? A camp follower?'

'It's what you just asked of me.'

He thought about that and then started to laugh. 'Now that's one of the reasons I love you: your conversation has all the spice of a new dish; you are never predictably boring like other highborn women.'

'Try thinking of me as a man and you may find me more predictable.'

He shook his head, still smiling. 'I could never think of you as a man. Ligea, I have something to tell you – which I shouldn't tell anyone, but I shall anyway. If a Brother can't be trusted with a secret, then who can, eh? The Stalwarts are being sent to Kardiastan.'

I sat up, slack-jawed, feeling as if someone had pummelled me with a fist in the midriff. It couldn't be

true. This had to be a joke. Or fate playing a trick? Both of us being sent to Kardiastan at the same time?

Finally I managed a stifled, 'Kardiastan? The Stalwarts on garrison duty?'

Favonius, never the most observant of men, didn't notice just how staggered I was. 'No. Active duty, as usual. We are to invade from the west.'

My astonishment grew. 'Across the Alps? Riding?' And then, 'Invade? But why? Kardiastan is already ours!' Inwardly, I fumed. Why hadn't the Exaltarch told me of this?

'That's what I always thought too, but it seems not all of it is.' He rolled over onto his back and put his hands behind his head. He was frowning slightly, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying. 'The Exaltarchy invaded Kardiastan, what, twenty-six years ago?'

'About that,' I agreed.

'It seems we invaded from the coast inwards, bringing troops by ship. But there's one part of Kardiastan, in the west, bordering the Alps, where no Exaltarchy troops have ever been. The Kardis call the area the Mirage. An impassable desert separates this Mirage and the rest of Kardiastan.'

I began to take an even keener interest in what he was saying.

'The Mirage is a rebels' cauldron of intrigue and insurrection, with leaders there constantly stirring up trouble elsewhere. So we are to cross the Alps and take it.'

I stared at him in puzzlement. T don't understand. If the desert is impassable, then how can this Mirage be part of Kardiastan?'

'That's what I asked. Apparently it's only impassable to Tyranians. The Kardis don't have any

trouble crossing it. And don't ask me how that can be, because I don't know.'

'Surely it's a simple matter to find a guide who would show us the secret.'

'You'd think so, wouldn't you? Offer enough money, and someone would oblige. Or torture someone into explaining the trick.' A worried note crept into his voice. 'It has been tried, of course. More than once. Those who did set off with a guide – whether paid or coerced – never came back.'

I rolled off the divan and began to pace the floor, forgetting I was naked. 'It seems there's a lot I don't know about Kardiastan. Which is strange when you consider it's where I was born. When do you leave, Favo? And how many of you go?'

'A legion under Legate Kilmar, and as soon as we're fitted out. We'll leave from Getria in about two months, I s'pose. Less perhaps.' His eyes followed me, appreciative. 'Keep this quiet. With such a small force, surprise is essential for success.'

'Oh, it'll be a surprise all right. Mounted on gordaks across the Alps? You'll be lucky if you make it alive.' At least I knew now why he'd been in the mountains beyond Getria – they had been reconnoitring the route.

'Don't underestimate the Stalwarts. We'll be there. I just wish I didn't have to leave Tyr again so soon. You and I see far too little of each other.'

That at least was true. The Stalwarts, for all that their permanent garrison was in Tyr, were liable to be ordered away at any time if the situation in any of the provinces or tributary states warranted it, which often seemed to happen. I had known Favonius for six years, but in all that time he'd spent less than two years in Tyr.

I said, 'We have less time than you think, Favo. I'll be leaving Tyrans even before you do.' Briefly, I summarised my meeting with the Exaltarch. By the time I'd finished, the mellowbirds outside had quietened and gone to roost in the bushes around the fishpond as dusk darkened the garden.

Favonius sat up, his forehead wrinkled in dismay. A klip-klip flew into the room, the rhythmic flashing on its head still dim in the half-light, and he swatted irritably at it. 'But that sounds as though it's unlikely you'll be returning to Tyr for – for Ocrastes knows how long! That bastard of a Ligatan. How can you bear to work for a snake-eyed, ungrateful turd like that?'

'I work for the Exaltarchy, Favo. Not for Rathrox, or for the Brotherhood or even for the Exaltarch.'

'What d'you mean? They're all the same thing in the end.'

'No, they're not.' The klip-klip landed on the back of my hand and I stared at the perfection of its delicate winged body and its tiny flashing light as I tried to put what I felt into words. T work for the idea of the Exaltarchy- for what it symbolises. An empire where everyone speaks the same tongue, an empire without war or border disputes, where nations pay tribute to Tyrans or become provinces, and have peace in return. Where a man can travel along the tradeways and the seaways from one land to another in safety.

'That is why I despise people like these Kardis, even though I myself was born one of them. They stir up rebellion and bring trouble and death and fear. They deal in terror. They destroy. They are the reason I am glad to work for the Brotherhood. The public fear us but, believe me, the prosperity of the Exaltarchy is as much due to us as to you legionnaires. It's a pity people forget that.'

Only half listening and uninterested in my philosophy, he said mulishly, 'Damn it, Ligea, we're unlikely to meet in Kardiastan. You won't be going anywhere near the Mirage. And what if Rathrox won't ever recall you to Tyrans?'

The klip-klip flew from my hand, its light brighter now. This time Favonius caught it and crushed it in his fingers.

I said, T shall face that scorpion when it raises its tail. For now, I'll try to do what I'm being sent to do. And who knows, we might meet there. After all, you surely won't return to Tyr across the Alps. Once you've conquered the Mirage, you should be able to solve the problem of crossing the desert and be able to return through Kardiastan proper.'