David Drake - The Gods Return

Tenoctris looked at him. "Who indeed?" she said. "But why do you mention it now?" "Because…," Garric said, answering both the rhetorical question and the real one. "A soldier is told where to go and who to fight. He doesn't have to think about anything, so he's without responsibility for the result. Even if he's killed, he's not responsible for it. Whereas-" He looked into the wizard's eyes. "-I'm responsible for defeating an empire that turns rats into soldiers. And I know how fast rats breed." "Your highness, if I might have a moment with you," said Lord Acer, newly appointed to the command of an Ornifal cavalry regiment. There was no question whatever in his tone.

"The food-" "Master Acer!" Garric said. He was angry and frustrated at the greater situation. It was probably a good thing that this young fop was providing a legitimate outlet, though Garric wouldn't release his feelings- King Carus laughed at the thought. -with a sweep of his sword, the way his ancestor had been known to do. "I am in conference with Lady Tenoctris, on whom the survival of mankind depends. Report to Lord Waldron, if you will, and inform him that you're to be reassigned to an infantry regiment at Pandah as of this moment!"

Acer's mouth dropped open. Other aides, waiting to talk to the prince when he was free, stifled laughs-or didn't, in the case of Lord Lerdain, a husky youth and the son of the Count of Blaise. If Acer wanted a duel, Lerdain was very much the boy to give him one. Acer went pale and stumbled blindly away. He'd have tripped over a tent rope if another officer hadn't guided him around it. "That was excessive," Garric muttered. Tenoctris shrugged. "My mother always told me that high birth doesn't exempt one from basic courtesy," she said. "I'm inclined to agree with her, though it's not something I worry about a great deal." She cleared her throat and resumed, "You're right that we can't attack the problem by preventing Palomir from finding rats. That's only one aspect of what's going on, though. The rats provide a physical core around which the priest and his God can form a warrior. He also needs human souls to animate the forms.

Otherwise they'd still be rats-large ones, but no more dangerous or disciplined than so many wolves." "We've heard that the priests are sacrificing everyone they capture," Garric said. His lips moved as though he were sucking on a lemon. "That's why, then? To make an army of rats?" They were standing in the middle of the camp, close to the headquarters tent. The location was about as private-and comfortable-as anything available. The guards kept everyone else out of earshot, which a tent's canvas walls would not. Not that it seemed to matter whether anybody overheard them… "Not in the way you mean it," Tenoctris said. "The blood sacrifice increases Franca's ability to affect events in the waking world, but the souls themselves are those of the dead." She grinned. Tenoctris had always had a bright smile and a whimsical sense of humor. "The innocent dead, I suppose you might say," she said. "Though I don't know that any human being is completely innocent. The dead weren't worshippers of Franca and His siblings, at any rate." She nodded back to where they'd been. Lord Lerdain watched proprietarily as a Blaise file-closer and a squad of armsmen under his command tramped toward the main gate, carrying the remains of the ratman on the mat of brush that had concealed it. "Any more than the rats who supplied the physical form were Franca-worshippers, you see," she concluded. Garric nodded. "All right," he said. "I understand the situation. What can we do to change it?" "We need to prevent the priest behind this," Tenoctris said,

"from haling souls out of the Underworld. We need to close the Gate of Ivory. And that will require a very particular hero." Garric lifted his sword slightly and let it slide back, unconsciously checking to be sure that it wouldn't bind in the scabbard if he needed to draw it quickly. "Well, I don't know that I'm particular enough," he said.

"But I'll try." The wizard laughed merrily, making those waiting beyond the line of Blood Eagles look up eagerly. "Garric, in most respects you'd be ideal for the task," she said. "You lack one necessary attribute, however: you're not dead. The late Lord Munn is therefore a better choice." "I, ah…," said Garric. "Can I help you reach Lord Munn, then?" "If you mean, 'Can I help you go to the place where Lord Munn's body rests,'" Tenoctris said, "no; I'll get us there. But Lord Munn won't accept orders from a woman, not even a woman who's a wizard-" She smiled, but the harshness of her expression was very unusual for Tenoctris. "-and who has the power to plunge his soul beneath the deepest Hell. Of course, if Lord Munn did not have such a strong, ah, will, he wouldn't be any good to us. That will require the presence of a warrior king." Garric grinned and stretched.

"Then take me to him, milady," he said. Tenoctris nodded. "There's a sacred grove within a mile," she said. "It focuses a useful amount of power. We'll go now, if you're ready." "Lord Attaper!" Garric called.

"Lady Tenoctris and I are leaving the camp immediately, and I suspect you'll want us to have an escort." *** Not even Chalcus could climb a smooth rock wall and shove that roller out of the way, thought Ilna as she looked at the roof of the cave. It was solid black; only memory told her where the opening might be. But I wish he was here. She lowered her eyes to where Usun probably was, though she couldn't see him either. "My name is Ilna os-Kenset," she said. "A wizard named Brincisa lowered me into this cave to fetch the box you were in. She left me here when I wouldn't send the box up ahead of me." She sniffed and added, "She'd have left me anyway, obviously. Well, this way I have company. Besides the ghoul." The wizened little man laughed like an angry squirrel. "Oh, you have much more than mere company, Ilna!" he said. "You have Usun!

And as for that Brincisa-" He snapped his fingers. "-she fancies herself a wizard, true, but Hutton could stand her on her head when he wanted to. He did that! Hutton had me, you see." Ilna thought of the last time she'd seen Hutton; probably the last time anybody would see Hutton. Smiling faintly she said, "It doesn't seem to have done him a great deal of good. Unless his final wish was to become dinner for a ghoul." As Ilna's eyes adapted, she became aware of a faint blue glow in the direction the ghoul had disappeared. She heard or at least felt a low hum. She couldn't tell where it came from or even be sure it really existed. Usun cackled again. "Oh, no, Hutton had great plans!" he said in his harsh, high-pitched voice. "He didn't really die, you know." "He certainly seemed to be dead, Master Usun," Ilna said tartly. "Even before the ghoul began to eat him." "Ilna, I'll burst with laughing!" Usun said, chortling loudly enough to make it seem a possibility. "You're right, you're right, but Hutton didn't imagine you. Well, who could, eh?" He paused. Ilna could now see a hint of the little man, squatting on his haunches at her feet. He was doing something with his hands-coiling the thin filament that'd bound the box to Hutton's corpse, she suddenly realized. "He really did stand his wife on her head, you know," Usun said confidentially. "Stood her there, dropped her, and warned her that he'd do it again if she annoyed him. But maybe Brincisa wasn't so very thick, eh? She was sharp enough to fetch you and turn the tables on Hutton once and for all. He thought he was so clever, but now where is he?" "He was dead when I met him," Ilna said irritably. "When I first saw him, that is.

The ghoul started eating the corpse, but it didn't kill him." Usun looked up. "Not really dead, no," he said. Familiarity didn't make his voice more attractive. "Hutton froze time in all this cavern. He sent his soul into the Underworld to gain knowledge that he called wisdom."