Michael Stackpole - Chartomancy

He clearly had been positioned for our interview, as the high-backed chair in which he sat had behind it a south-facing window. The sunlight glowing through it backlit him enough that I could not get a good look at his face. Even so, it wasn’t hard to see that his once-thick shock of red hair had thinned and turned grey. A blanket hid him from the waist down, and I could not tell if he’d been belted into place or not. He held a stick in his left hand, and it pointed at a map of the countryside, but I didn’t expect him to move it.

And his voice had a watery sound, as if he were half-drowning.

“Please, Decaiserr Tolo, be seated.”

I accepted his invitation and slipped into the chair facing him. “I appreciate the time you are able to give me, my lord.”

“And I appreciate the information you will give me. Did you see Kelewan fall?”

“No, but it could not have taken long.” I outlined the situation as I’d seen it, then gave him a report on the nature of the enemy-starting with my arrival in Erumvirine, but declining to mention how I got there. I even showed him the scar on my right forearm and upon seeing that, he fell silent for a moment.

Even with the backlight, I could see the intelligence burning in his eyes. “The kwajiin were not present in the first battles your people reported?”

“You may ask them if you wish, but until I fought the first one on the road to the capital, none of us had seen them. Still, it is possible they were directing things behind the scenes.”

“But they did not show up in the ranks until the battle with the Iron Bears?”

“Again, not to my knowledge-but they could have been traveling along the river and I just never saw them.”

With great effort, he shook his head. “It would make no sense to divide a force that way. Having your troops under discipline is the best way to win. And the way they sent bestial creatures against Kelewan suggests the kwajiin are not averse to sacrificing their unruly comrades.”

I nodded. “I see no reason to doubt your analysis. I’m not certain, however, that they want to destroy them foolishly. The kwajiin seem anything but foolish.”

“To assume they would use them poorly is to assume the enemy is stupid.” His voice faltered for a moment and he swallowed hard. “If you are correct, however, we have to wonder why they are coming here to Deraelkun.”

“Three possible answers come to mind, my lord.” I smiled easily. “The first is to clear the way to invade north. The second is to close the avenue for an attack from the north. And the third is to have the honor of destroying Deraelkun.”

“I’ll believe the first two, but the third is not a consideration-not if I want to believe them a worthy foe.”

“To discount it, however, you discount their having a knowledge of Deraelkun, which suggests they will bring insufficient force against your position.”

The count’s head canted to the right, and I believe it was a deliberate motion. “That is something to consider, certainly. I have had scouts out. The kwajiin have slowed their advance since you ambushed them. Given the rate at which new troops have been joining them, and the speed of their advance, I anticipate a siege force of twenty-five thousand within a week.”

My stomach tightened. “That would be the siege force from around Kelewan, which means the capital has fallen. It also means they’ve brought in many more troops to pacify the country they’re leaving behind.”

“That, or they have killed everyone.”

I wasn’t certain which prospect sounded worse. The idea that they had murdered everyone in Kelewan revolted me, but made the number of troops in Erumvirine manageable. If, on the other hand, they had brought more troops up, we were looking at fifty thousand invaders at a minimum. If all of those were kwajiin, the invasion would not stop at the Virine border.

“Which would you prefer?”

“Neither.” The stick in his hand rose slightly, then flopped back down. “I have much thinking to do. Please take your time and review the defenses here. Perhaps, between the two of us, we can come up with a way to stop the invaders.”

“Of course, my lord.” I stood, bowed, and withdrew.

The countess met me in the corridor outside as servants moved silently past and into his room. “He’s not the man you remember, is he?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“He’s been worse.” She led the way down the corridor. “Come, I want to show you something before we look over the defenses. It’s something you’ve not seen before. Few have, who are not of Derael blood.”

I kept pace with her. “How many troops are here?”

“Not counting yours, there are roughly five thousand.” Consina kept her voice even but quiet. “Three are our house troops, and we may get more as the lords you brought in send for their households. The other two are militia-poorly trained but well led. We pair them with more established units or give them support duties. Harassing the enemy gives them experience without much chance of being overwhelmed.”

“There is a value to that. What is the ratio of archers to swordsmen?”

She smiled. “All of our soldiers can do both, Master Tolo. We have a regiment of archers who are our sharpshooters.”

We descended a circular stairway that went from new construction to old, then older. It let us into the foundation of the tower. She took a torch from a bracket on the wall and lit it, then conducted me along a dark corridor. We paused before a round door built as a plug into the wall. Taking a key from around her neck, she unlocked it and, surprisingly, the door swung open easily on well-oiled hinges.

“Originally this room served as the Emperor’s treasury when he visited, and it is the only room that has survived every siege. The Derael family converted it to their own treasury, then a museum.”

She set the torch in a bracket beside the door, then took up a small taper and went before me, lighting small lamps hung on chains from the ceiling. As light filled the room, a chill ran down my spine.

Eons of treasures filled the room. Tapestries depicting great battles and momentous events lined the walls. Banners, some bloodied, burned, cut, torn, and yellowed with age, hung from the ceiling. Broken carriages of siege machines and one whole ballista had been rebuilt in the center of the floor, and marble statues representing heroes surrounded them. In another circle that filled the room to the walls, weapons and armor hung on wooden trees, memorializing Derael warriors and others who had fought at Deraelkun.

Consina paused next to a suit of armor that looked untouched. Behind it, standing tall, a spear almost touched the ceiling. I joined her, admiring the armor.

“This is his, as well you know. It’s not like most of the others, with cut strings and dents and even bloodstained holes. By the time Jarys took command, Tsatol Deraelkun’s reputation defended this place more than any soldier.”

She glanced down. “It was always his dream that he would be able to prove his worthiness as a warrior and have his armor installed here, but no one ever came to test him. And now, when someone is coming, he’s not able to defend Deraelkun.”

I smiled. “The best warrior is one who defeats his enemy without ever having to fight.”

“I have told him this many times, and while he acknowledges the right of that wisdom, it eats at him that he can no longer fight.”

“It will take more than Jarys’ donning his armor and picking up his spear to defend this place.” I ran a hand over my unshaven jaw. “You say we have five thousand. By the time they come we might get twenty percent more, but they will still outnumber us five to one. If they use the tactics they did at Kelewan, they will hurt us before we begin a formal battle.”