David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

'As you predicted, sire. I take it your brother is no longer a thorn in the flesh.'

'No. Sadly he died. What was interesting, however, is that the enemy sent only a small group of Vagars led by a single Avatar.'

'Viruk?'

'The very same. Such a small response to our provocation. What does this mean?'

'They are weaker than they appear, lord.'

'Indeed so. And yet I do not believe this is the time to strike at them directly.'

'Might I enquire as to your reasoning, lord?'

The servant returned with golden goblets brimming with the juice of several fruits. Ammon thanked him and sat up. 'Whoever strikes first — even if he wins — will be weakened. My army could — possibly — overrun the five cities. We would suffer enormous losses. How then would we counter an attack from our tribal enemies?'

'I find your reasoning sound, lord,' said Anwar. 'It would therefore be advantageous if our own enemies made the first attack.'

'Precisely. And by a happy coincidence that it is what Judon of the Patiakes is planning.'

'How can I be of assistance, lord?'

Ammon sipped his drink. 'Our people in the cities must do nothing to aid Judon once the battle starts. Quite the opposite, in fact. They must assist the Avatars in every way.'

'I will get a message to them. One of my agents is leaving today, with gold to finance the Pajists. But I fear they will not react well to the order. Their hatred of the Avatars blinds them to more far-sighted objectives.'

'You have the names of all the Pajists?'

'All the leaders, lord.'

'They will see the destruction of the Avatars, and my promises kept. Then they must die.'

'Indeed they shall, lord.'

A cloud obscured the sun. The king shivered. 'Let us go inside. I am hungry.'

Questor General Rael was not often surprised. In his eight hundred years he had experienced all that human life could offer and, like many of the older Questors, found himself living in a constant circle of previously experienced events. He had known friendship and betrayal, love and hate, and all the misty manoeuvring that swam between them. In the course of his eight centuries friends had become enemies, loved ones had sought to harm him, and bitter enemies had become brothers of the blood. There was little new to experience. So when surprise touched him he treated it like a gift. Even when it was a gift tarnished by pain.

He stood now on the wall above the eastern gate of Egaru, staring out over the rich farmlands spreading out on both sides of the Luan River. Like all Avatars he was ageless, seemingly no more than thirty, his blue hair close-cropped, his lean body clad in a white shirt-tunic of heavy silk, embroidered with gold thread at the high collar and the cuffs. His long legs were encased in leggings of the finest leather, and he wore knee-length riding boots crafted from crocodile skin. Rael carried no weapons, and boasted no jewellery. No rings glittered upon his fingers, no circlet of gold gleamed upon his brow.

The sun was bright and hot in a clear blue sky above the city and Rael gratefully accepted the cool drink his aide Cation proffered to him. Cation was not yet seventy, one of the few Avatars not to have been born when the world fell. Like all the younger men, he eschewed the full head of blue hair, but followed the fashion set by Viruk of having the temples dyed. Cation was of Rael's line — the great-grandson of Rael's third great-grandson.

Rael liked the lad. 'What have we discovered about Judon's plans?' he asked.

'The tribal leaders have been called to a gathering to discuss territorial matters,' said Cation. 'The Mud People refuse to attend, but all others have accepted. It is to be held in five days at Ren-el-gan, which the tribes believe was once the Well of Life. It has always been a meeting place and is considered holy ground.'

'What reason did the Erek-jhip-zhonad give for their refusal to attend?'

'The king told them the date was inauspicious, as it coincided with a religious festival.'

Rael smiled. 'He wasn't asked to joint-lead the Gathering.'

'No, sir. Judon of the Patiakes is acting alone.'

'What do we know of Judon?' asked Rael. He already knew the answer, but wished to see how much study the younger man had given to the current crisis.

'He has been Lord of the Patiakes for seventeen years, taking the mantle following the death of his father; He has more than twelve thousand warriors from a tribe numbering almost forty thousand. They are nomadic by nature, and exist in sub-clans. These number almost three hundred.'

'The man, Cation. Tell me about the man.'

'He is a harsh ruler, and claims to be descended from the prophet who discovered the Well of Life.' Cation fell silent for a moment. 'I am sorry, sir. I don't know what else to tell you.'

'You could tell me that he is fat and weighs more than any three men in your section, which implies he is a greedy man. You could add that he has forty wives and more than fifty concubines, which suggests he lusts after more than he can sustain. This prophet you speak of promised that the tribes would one day own the world. He predicted the coming of a warlord from his line. Judon, in claiming to be his descendant, is trying on the mantle of that warlord. These things alone would suggest he has great ambitions. This Gathering has not been called to discuss minor territorial disagreement between the tribes. It is to declare Judon as the warlord, and will mean an army of close to fifty thousand will attack the five cities before the autumn.'

'We will not be able to stop them, sir,' said Cation. 'Not once they march,' agreed the General. 'Now, what progress has been made in tracking down those responsible for the killing of Questor Baliel?'

'We are still gathering information, sir. But there has been much talk in Egaru concerning a group calling themselves Pajists, which in the old Vagar tongue means—' 'I know what it means. Assassins.' 'Indeed, sir. We have many informers, and they have all been instructed to gather information about the group. However, though there is much talk, there is little evidence so far.'

'I have read the reports,' said Rael. 'Two of your best informers have died recently. Is that not so?'

'Yes, sir. What is your point? Both were accidents. Several witnesses saw the first leaving a tavern drunk. He fell from the wharf and drowned. The second was a blacksmith. He was kicked in the head by a horse. Witnesses observed the accident.'

'Bring in the witnesses and question them under duress,' ordered Rael.

'For what purpose, sir?'

'Cation, you are a blood relative, and I love you dearly. But you do not think. The drunk would have had to walk two miles to the docks in order to fall into the sea. His home was in the opposite direction. Even assuming he had staggered for two miles do you not think he would have sobered sufficiently to avoid such a fall? And what was he doing at the docks at midnight? The gates are locked. Are you suggesting the drunken man walked two miles out of his way, then climbed a gate, with the express purpose of hurling himself into the sea? As to the blacksmith, the back of his skull was caved in. How many blacksmiths do you know who would approach a horse backwards?'

'I see, sir. I am sorry. I have been remiss.'

'Indeed you have. Both men were murdered. First bring in the witnesses to the blacksmith's death. When you have questioned them for several hours, keeping them from sleep, send for me. I will conclude the examinations.'

'Yes, sir.'

Dismissing Cation he walked back along the wall, down a circular stairwell and out into the compound.

Soldiers were training here under the watchful eyes of their Avatar officers. As he passed, the Vagar soldiers saluted.

Questor General Rael entered the officers' section, passed through the empty halls and climbed to his study on the third floor. Once there he sat at his desk, swinging the chair so that he could look out of the window and see the distant mountains.