Vance Moore - Odyssey

”Why me?” the mountain mage asked. ”Surely there are others willing to teach, fighters from the arena perhaps.” He took a sip as he thought. To be a fighting master was a serious relationship in the mountains. He had spent years working with his mentor and could not see himself in such a role for now. But he remembered his own stumbling steps in search of magic. Perhaps he could help the boys.

"We want you to teach us because there are few willing to teach. Apel and Enoch will both take students, but we feel uneasy with calling on the dead. Besides, you are the first in quite some time to beat either of them," Girter said, his friends nodding in agreement.

"I do not know my own plans," Kamahl said, playing for time. "I will offer my opinions on the available teachers. I have skill, but you need a master rather than a fighter. I leave soon, in any case. It depends on what I learn about the trade caravans."

"My father is completely familiar with them," Girter exclaimed, flushing with pleasure now, rather than rage.

"Our father sometimes hauls out cargo from the caravans to the freight ships waiting in the bay," one of the brothers chimed in. "Though there isn't much call for his services anymore."

"Yes," said Girter with a frown, reclaiming the conversation. "The number of wagons hauling cargo to the coast plummeted when the Order became more active. They stop caravans across the continent, searching for a stolen artifact."

"They say that an agent for the Cabal stole a magic sword belonging to the head of the Order. She had her throat cut in her sleep." One of the darkhaired boys — the barbarian thought it Wasel — spoke with a certain amount of relish.

"I heard an ambassador from the emperor's court and his fighting frog stole it during an animal attack on the captain," his brother Birten said, determined to speak at least once.

"They even say a metal-skinned barbarian killed the captain and her lieutenant and stole away a great treasure," Girter confessed, glancing toward Kamahl. His friends looked nervously at the mountain fighter, who smiled back.

"I never had the pleasure of meeting the captain.,"

The three youths laughed uproariously as if Kamahl told a great jest.

"I am, however, interested in occurrences inland. Perhaps I will return that way. I also might travel by ship, so I would appreciate any news of the empire. Please join me, and we will talk more."

Kamahl watched them wave for the waitress and wondered how many rumors and false trails battled with the truth. Perhaps he would stay in Borben a while, finding news sources from the empire. One thing was certain—further travel was pointless without more information.

’Shall we come to order?” Laquatus called as the generals gathered around the table. The delicate murals on the throne room walls twinkled like submerged stars, the emperor's image looming over his councilors and servants. In the continent's dead buildings, the ambassador could take the image down or cover it. However, in the sea, the palace itself would bleed the image through any barrier. Besides, Laquatus could not decide the fate of the emperor's face, not just yet.

Already he had turned the throne room into the command center. From here he directed the action against the supposed rebels and agents of the queen. Aboshan had retired to his rooms in disarray. There he spent his time in debauchery with occasional bouts when he planned paranoid purges. Increasingly, the court relied on Laquatus to deal with the day to day running of the palace. Many decisions, formerly the exclusive domain of the emperor, were decided by him. Best of all, he was able to blame the bolder and bloody moves on the now-isolated ruler.

A general droned on, but the ambassador ignored him for now. Most members of the new ruling body were military, for Laquatus had taken over the government's civilian functions. Ministers who were former rivals or could impede his decisions were already cleared away. The obstacles were removed by denunciation. Some died, and others fled to the southern courts, proving their treachery or at least their taste for living.

The valuable and respected ministers presented more of a problem. Too many traitors in the government's highest ranks might lead Aboshan to suspect Laquatus. Remembering the effect of his own exile in isolating him, the ambassador found compelling reasons for the highest officials to be sent abroad or to the empire's hinterlands. Embassies opened in dozens of cities, and the reluctant diplomats tried to remove the queen from her undersea allies.

Many of those courtiers remaining in the palace found themselves elevated due to Laquatus's influence and transferred their loyalty to him. Having the whip hand over the civilian administration, the ambassador was considering his next target—the army. It agitated constantly for additional funds, soldiers, and action. Even now, officers looked to him to implement their latest recommendations. He wondered what they were.

"I will hear the next report and inform you of the emperor's decisions regarding your requests, General." He would glance at the wax-covered slate later. He might even secure a decision if he thought the outcome personally favorable.

Another officer began to report, and Laquatus wondered how to gain ascendancy over the army. The problem was proving more resistant to his attempts to weed out leaders. The military had a higher sense of duty and loyalty to its own institutions. Moreover, he could not steer his own candidates to empty positions. Any openings were still filled at the pleasure of the commanding generals.

What he needed was an eviscerating purge of the army's officer corps. Laquatus needed his own armed force to implement it in the emperor's name. A personal guard, he thought, and his eyes drifted to the rear of the throne room. Turg and his lackeys were gathered together, gambling quietly. The killers and scoundrels his jack recruited and led in the raids lacked the strict discipline demanded by the army. However, there were many castes and species in ocean society that could be played against each other. The lower orders had their place, and if a bloodthirsty few managed to improve their lot to the ambassador's benefit, he saw no harm. His jack could find more compatriots while he looked for an excuse for Aboshan to create another army.

He thought of the emperor entombed in his rooms with Laquatus controlling access to the monarch. Expanding the current system of spies and thugs in a serious military force would not be too difficult. He could use subtle innuendo about the military's loyalty to the emperor. However, that course was risky. Aboshan might take personal command of the army leaving no forces loyal only to the ambassador. Perhaps it was time to find avenues to power beside manipulations in the throne room.

”Thank you all for your time,” Laquatus said suddenly, cutting another general off in mid-speech. ”I believe these problems deserve an immediate response. I will go to our beloved ruler and urge him to act on these concerns as soon as possible.”

Many officers could not hide their irritation at the abrupt dismissal, but it was hard to complain of an advisor moving promptly to convey their problems to the sovereign.

Turg, he commanded mentally, ready to leave for the vaults.

The frog resisted, wanting to stay with his companions. The ambassador swam over, wondering what could be so engrossing. A huge glass cover from the imperial kitchens lay on a tabletop. The amphibian and a triton released fighting fish under the glass, sealing them in. The fish, at first, swelled until one appeared bigger than its opponent did. Laquatus thought of Aboshan's swollen ego as one tried to drive the other off. But the lesser was trapped and could not escape. Both fish attacked, forced to combat because one could not leave. The noble dragged his jack away, sick of resistance to his will. The other scum scattered at his show of wrath.