Chapter Forty-Eight
Fezhmorbal rarely had a private audience with Liege Hwe’tsara. And although there were two of the x’qao’s senior harrows present—although neither of which were deciqadi like himself—it was a sign of great trust, great secrecy, or both.
The Hwe’tsara gestured for him to stand before his rough-hewn granite throne . . . but not to sit. “So, where is your assistant? The one named, er, . . . Gasdashrag?”
Fezhmorbal concealed his surprise; it was noteworthy when Hwe’tsara simply remembered what he’d had for breakfast. Not because his mind was weak; he just didn’t trouble it to retain information that was not of immediate import. “Your Horror’s memory is as the keenest obsidian. Gasdashrag is presently embarked upon a mission in the service of your interests.” Which is to say, my schemes.
“Where is he?”
“It would be better to end with that information, Liege Hwe’tsara.”
The x’qao glanced at the “great hall’s” one obvious addition: a large urn of water. “I do not ask questions a second time, stoop.”
Fezhmorbal ignored the slur used to insult his race. “Gasdashrag is presently very near Khorkrag, Your Horror.”
“What? So far? What new madness is this, counselor?”
“It is not madness, nor is it any further than he must be in order to pursue your interests assiduously, Your Horror. But as I observed, his location is best understood once the whole story of his journey there is told.”
“Very well. It and your other reports are long overdue, you know. I have not heard results since the start of spring.”
It was a gross exaggeration, but what was the good of pointing that out? “It has been challenging gathering forces sufficient to do your bidding, Liege Hwe’tsara.”
“You anticipate having to launch large attacks?”
“No, Liege, but there are many threads that need to be traced with careful fingers in order to perceive the full tapestry of recent events.”
“And that tapestry is—?”
“—is but half-completed, Your Horror.”
“What? After all this time?”
“The progress may seem slow, but that is required if we are not to give away more information than we gather.”
The x’qao was becoming cross. “Speak in plain language.”
I am, you insufferable fly-wit! “It is in the nature of gathering hidden information that one encounters trip wires designed to detect anyone who attempts to access it.”
“Hmmph. If one must go to such trouble, then better a trap to slay them!”
Yes, you would think that. “Certainly that would be most satisfying, but once the trap is sprung and the intruder is killed, they cannot be interrogated or followed. But our adversaries are careful and wily: had we been incautious, our agents would have been detected and scrutinized. And so, were likely to be trailed back to this very stronghold, and your interest and objectives revealed. Or at least implied.”
“So, to protect me, you moved slowly so you would not be caught as you crept in to get the information.”
“Precisely.” So simple for you to understand, when you reduce all the nuanced principles to the only one with which you are concerned: your interests and safety.
“Very well. So in the course of these slow movements, what did you uncover?”
“The connections between the theft of the arcane artifacts, the person discovered with them, and the Legate caravan we struck shortly afterward.”
“And what was revealed?”
“That the goods stolen from you were not in that caravan at all. It was a ruse.”
“Well,” Hwe’tsara moped, “at least it cost them a caravan.”
“True, but it cost us one of the few sets of eyes and ears we had within the Legate’s fortress, and by far the best.”
“What? How so?”
“Your Horror, do you recall how I asked your express permission to contact your best agent within Tasvar’s fortress to determine the nature of the caravan?”
“I do. How else were we to learn if they had stolen my goods and sent them away?”
“Quite so. But by attacking the caravan, we confirmed what Tasvar himself had been unable to: that he had a spy high enough in his command ranks to pass such information to us. Including the misinformation with which that agent had been furnished: that your goods were being carried by that caravan, when in fact they were not.”
Fezhmorbal saw the cruel truth slowly dawning in Hwe’tsara’s almost pupilless eyes. “So when we attacked it—”
“—we not only missed the actual target but revealed to Tasvar which of the three persons he misinformed passed the news of the caravan to us.”
“That agent is also the one who poisoned Tasvar’s mindspeaker, is it not?”
“Yes,” Fezhmorbal replied, hiding his irritation. Grooming that agent within Tasvar’s fortress had been his first task for Hwe’tsara. “Most unfortunate, it took two seasons of work to get an agent close enough.”
“Was it really so hard to find someone who would infiltrate his organization?”
“No: it was so hard to contact and suborn someone who was already inside. Fortunately, prakhwai have families.”
Hwe’tsara shook his head. “It is an endless puzzlement to me.”
“That prakhwai have families?”
“No, that any of these breeds are willing to die for each other. Not merely risk their lives, you understand, but die.”
Fezhmorbal shrugged. “It was thus with our agent. To protect one he loved, he poisoned the mindspeaker. Once he’d thus broken his oath of service, he was our creature. This time, he never had a chance of escape, since it was a trap specially set for an informer. All Tasvar lacked was his identity.”
“And he was tortured?”
“If so, it would not matter. We are not implicated. The one we used as his contact was a kajh without a gang.”
“And our agent was willing to trust so humble a source?”
“Not since we had the kajh represent himself as an agent of your archrival Shvarkh’khag. Our agent had no reason to suspect that the source of the very generous bribes was other than the one credited with them. Indeed, the kajh we used as a go-between never knew any different, either.”
“‘Knew’?” Hwe’tsara repeated, emphasizing the past tense.
“Your Horror, certainly you do not believe me so stupid that I would allow such a trivial catspaw to live, do you?”
The x’qao shifted in his seat, glanced down at his “throne room’s” immense new urn, vapor drifting up in lazy wisps. Fezhmorbal had never heard the liege was fond of bathing, but then, he had little interest in Hwe’tsara’s personal habits or preferences. “So,” the monster said, face folding into a terrible frown, “there was nothing of value in the caravan at all?”
“Other than a smattering of routine trade goods, no.”
“Very well, but . . . where are my goods?” the x’qao roared suddenly, as if the latch on the gate of his rage had finally broken.
“North of Khorkrag. As I said at the outset, Your Horror.”
“Very well . . . but how did they get there?”
“Do you remember the strange humans who appeared shortly after the splitting star?”
Hwe’tsara shook his head, as if dizzied by a sudden change of direction. “Er, what? Well, yes, I do.”
Fezhmorbal thought it possible that he might actually have remembered. “What you may not recall is that, other than their visit to the vansary, there was no further report of them here in Forkus.”
“They housed with the Legate. Did they not take service there?”
“Unfortunately, the loss of our informer in Tasvar’s hierarchy occurred before we had reason to inquire.” Probably the crafty waterbag’s intent. “But it appears that the humans left Forkus shortly before his treachery was discovered.” And I must pause, so that I can remember the look on your hideous face as I add—“In fact, it seems the humans left Forkus the very same night that your goods were stolen.”
Hwe’tsara blinked, then jerked upright. “Them? They stole my goods?”
“It is almost certain. I believe I apprised you of the strange nature of the attack on the hovel where the trade was to be conducted.”
“Yes,” snapped Hwe’tsara.
Which actually means, “no” given the asperity of your reply. “There is evidence that some of the devices they used were artifacts, including their armor . . . which reportedly bore a strong resemblance to that which you had agreed to purchase.” Fezhmorbal shrugged. “Typically, I do not trust reports of brief sightings by hungry wretches who may or may not have been present to see what they claim, but the similarity among the descriptions of the armor the humans were wearing as they left Forkus is striking.”
“But how do you know they are in Khorkrag?”
“Near Khorkrag, Your Horror,” corrected Fezhmorbal, buying time to make sure his next words did not betray him. If he learns that I employed my own watchers because of his own refusal to take adequate precautions . . . well, that will not end well. “To answer your question. You are naturally aware that I maintain many informers in the city, both to keep track of developing frictions among the lieges and to note any unusual activities that might lead to opportunities.”
“Yes, yes: you are well informed. Go on.”
Fezhmorbal mentally breathed a sigh of relief which he dared not show physically. “Two such informers reported that those who attacked the hovel hastily departed north into the wastes that same night. Those two informers have since remained quite close to the humans.” True enough.
“And how do they report to you? Are they mindspeakers?”
“No, Your Horror. But this is why you have not seen Gasdashrag. He set out north along the river, just as we suspected the thieves had. They had all but given up hope of finding their trail until they discovered a marker some four days north of Forkus: it was in the form of the secret sigil I had given the two informers to alert me when they had news.”
Hwe’tsara’s brow descended. “They are suspiciously loyal, these informers, to venture into the wastes alone.”
“Not so much loyal as very eager to get the rest of their pay, Your Horror. Each received a season’s worth of moss for their trouble, but we had a further understanding that they could expect up to four years’ more if their news was worthy of that price.” Every word, technically true.
Hwe’tsara’s eyes widened at the extravagance of the reward, but he simply said, “Go on.”
“Many of their marks were washed away by weather, but Gasdashrag’s group was persistent and always found another mark further along the river’s course. The humans were clearly concerned with getting as much distance from Forkus as possible, so remained on the swiftest path. That made it relatively easy to rediscover their trail when it was lost.”
“And where are they now?”
“Gasdashrag has reached Khorkrag. His reports are as yet inconclusive, but the humans are not far off. My informers left a marker near the river ferry, but no humans entered the town. So it is almost certain that they remained on the western bank, quite possibly because Khorkrag’s sentiment against humans was already rising. He stoked the fire of that irritation by visiting your cousin, Suzerain Ormalg’s liege in that place, and funding a bounty upon any humans found in the wadi country, particularly those which might be headed to Ebrekka.”
“Why there?”
“Although my informer’s sigils are general, the humans seem to have several races with them. One of them is a mangle, and Your Horror hardly needs me recount the vile cooperation between that species and humans.”
Hwe’tsara nodded slowly. “This Gasdashrag of yours has done well. And with a quarter the number of the words you require.”
“Your Horror is the very embodiment of wit. At the risk of taxing your patience, Liege Hwe’tsara, I wish to return to the decoy caravan that Tasvar dispatched eastward the night your goods were stolen.”
“Is the matter important?”
“It is often difficult to know if peculiar events are important or not, but this is so singular that I feel I should share it, so that your superior mind might detect meaning or guile that I have missed.”
“Yes, yes, Fezhmorbal, I am delighted to help you do your job for me! Be quick, though!”
“I shall be the soul of brevity, Your Horror. When the caravan was intercepted three days east of Forkus, our forces quite nearly fully destroyed it. Several praakht, and their more human prakhwai kin, fled. They were not tracked; there was neither time nor need. Unfortunately, all the humans were slain. However, one of them—a female scribe whose origins were likely from Beyond—did not join in the defense of the caravan, but rather, freed a well-secured pack from the best cargo frame and dashed it to the ground. It began fuming immediately and was consumed by the time the attack had concluded.”
Hwe’tsara became interested despite himself. “So: bottles of acid that vaporized everything else in the pack?”
“Your Horror’s perspicacity remains unmatched. Yes.”
“Do you have any clues as to what it contained?”
“There were no residues that the attackers could detect, which would be peculiar if any metals were present. So I presume it was a repository for secure messages.”
“Is that so odd?”
“It is, if the caravan’s only purpose was to serve as a decoy. And it is an extraordinary level of precaution to take if the communications were of only a routine nature.”
“Yes, I agree, but what is to be done about it? What is the profit of your telling me this?”
Asking that tells me how you shall die: on the claws of a reasonably clever opponent. “The profit is in knowing that such a strange thing occurred in such unlikely circumstances. One can never tell beforehand when just such a detail will prove the key to unlocking a much greater puzzle box later on.”
“Fauughh! You and your puzzles, Fezhmorbal. You are still entirely too like the humans you wish to replace, I tell you.” He stared. “Well, is there something else?” There was a taunting relish in his query.
Fezhmorbal cleared his throat. “I have noticed that there is a heated urn of water just beside your throne.”
Hwe’tsara almost smiled. “And?”
“And I have it on good authority that one of Ormalg’s own viziers, the renowned keeper of knowledge, W’sazz-Ozura, arrived in Forkus but two days ago. So I cannot but wonder: has she brought news of the splitting star?”
Hwe’tsara did not seem to mind that Fezhmorbal had solved the rather obvious puzzle. “Indeed! You are correct. And here is my esteemed guest!”
Without warning, the waters in the immense urn frothed and the mostly serpentine form of W’sazz-Ozura broke the surface. Her six arms dripped and rivulets paralleled the ancient wrinkles and folds running down her torso, which resembled a human female as much as an asp.
“He is an interesting deciqad, is he not?” Hwe’tsara asked his guest before turning back to Fezhmorbal. “Great W’sazz-Ozura has illijor Talents, you know!”
Fezhmorbal tried not to swallow or blink. Which means she could be a mindwatcher.
“He isss a sstoop, like any other,” she said dismissively, every sibilant sound louder and longer than usual.
Fezhmorbal slowly released his breath.
Hwe’tsara, oblivious to his counselor’s momentary panic, eagerly asked his august visitor, “And what of his foolish projection about the equally foolish star?”
“It isss as the sstoop foretold.”
Hwe’tsara’s smile fell away. “What?”
“You were foolishhh to disregard his perceptionsss, Hwe’tsara. The splitting star has indeed changed its path through the heavensss. What this portends is unknown. But it is unlikely to be a star, which are fixed in their placesss. It is more akin to Garthyawan, which moves around us. Thisss does the same. It iss more swift. But it iss also lesss stable.”
“What do you mean?”
“The star-splinter’s period has shortened. The best eyess of our breed assert that it glows slightly brighter. Logically, this occurs because it comes closer. This is all I know or wish to discusss. Your failure to pay heed to the sstoop shall be brought to Ormalg’s attention. Do not make such a mistake again.” She sank back into the urn with a long, relieved hiss.
Hwe’tsara turned amazed and angered eyes upon Fezhmorbal. “How did you know?”
“I did not know,” Fezhmorbal said truthfully, struggling not to gloat. “But its timing, arriving only ten or so days before the humans, seemed too unusual to be a coincidence.”
“And you think that they somehow created this splitting star? Or summoned it? How would they so confound the normal order of things?”
Fezhmorbal simply stared at Hwe’tsara before asking, “They are humans are they not?”
The x’qao half rose from his throne. “Do not take that tone with me, stoop!”
“I did not mean to insult Your Horror,” Fezhmorbal assured him. Which was true: he had actually hoped to keep his contempt out of both his voice and his gaze. “I merely underscore that if humans were to be described with only a single term, it would be ‘surprising’—and usually, in the most worrisome and inconvenient sense of that word.”
“Well,” Hwe’tsara sulked, “that much is certainly true. Now get Gasdashrag more resources; he seems to be achieving far more than you!”