Doom's Break (12 page)

Toshak's eyebrows shot up for a moment. Then his eyes tightened to slits as he looked to Nuza for confirmation of these words. She nodded. This was Aeswiren's understanding, which, though it sounded incredible, he believed wholeheartedly.

Aeswiren continued, "It is a power that sits inside the pyramid. It rules through the priesthood, and it always has. It is the intelligence that informs Shasht society."

"What form does this thing take?"

"It is that of a man, very old when I saw him. He has ruled for hundreds of years, living on while dynasties have come and gone."

Toshak muttered to himself, then spoke clearly. "The Assenzi were right, then. I think this is what the old ones spoke of. They called it 'Karnemin.'"

"The Assenzi?" said Aeswiren. "They are the very old ones, who help your rulers. Nuza has spoken to me about them."

"They are not mots and they are not men, some say they are not actually alive like you or me. They are built of magic, perhaps."

"And they know of this man I speak of, which we call 'the Old One'?"

The name struck them both with its implications.

"Yes. They say they knew him long long ago, in the time of ice." And they, too, are the "old ones," Toshak wanted to say, but did not.

Aeswiren stood stockstill, drinking in the enormity of what he was hearing. The ice was barely a memory in Shasht, a thing of legend from long ago.

"Then this thing has lived far longer than our Empire. Far longer than the Old Kingdoms."

"And your people know nothing of it?"

"Only the inner circle of the high priests really knows. It is most dangerous knowledge to have."

"I see." And Toshak did.

Aeswiren looked at Nuza for a moment. He had seen the strange symmetry of the two forces. Nuza saw it, too.

"The expedition to your land was not my policy. It was a policy I inherited when I took the throne. For many years I bottled it up. I refused to spend money on a huge fleet of ships. But in the end they got around me. Politics is like that. When there's money to be spent, a way will be found to spend it."

Toshak understood this very well. Since the war's beginnings he had been forced into the financial and economic planning circles of both Dronned and Sulmo. The politics surrounding a royal budget had become crystal clear to him.

"But the Old One wanted it, that was the essential thing. He always pressed me to finish the fleet and send it. He wanted this war."

Toshak was nodding. "This thing you talk of, it wants to destroy us and the Assenzi."

"We are but pawns on an ancient chessboard."

Nuza watched the two of them as they came to grips with this vast, terrible realization.

The ancient thing that ruled in Shasht had forced the men to build an Empire and then used that Empire to build a fleet that was designed to destroy inhabitants of the Land and the Assenzi.

"The Assenzi are its real target, then. But there is a difference between our wise old helpers and this 'Old One' of yours. For this figure behind your Empire does his work in secret. We can judge from its results that it is foul work, the cause of endless bloodshed. But the Assenzi have usually done their work among us in the open."

"Usually?"

"At times there have been crises that have called for them to intervene in hidden ways. They have sought stability above everything, and our world has been without change for aeons."

"You have been held back. The men of Shasht have been pushed forward. We have all been made into puppets." Aeswiren slammed a fist into a palm. "I say it is time to end it. Let the ancient ones fight their own battles."

"I have a question," said Toshak. "Who made the policy that causes men to kill my people and eat them? Why do men eat our children?"

Aeswiren blanched. He remembered when the orders for that policy were given. He remembered that he signed them blithely, thinking that it meant nothing. The inhabitants of this mythical land that the priests wanted to conquer were but animals. If the men ate them, then so be it. Men got hungry, and animals were food.

"It was a policy put forward by the priests. They said that animals of abomination inhabited the new lands and that they should be consumed as food."

It was hard to translate "abomination" into the language of the Land. With Nuza's help, they came up with "evil in the form of unbearable wrongness."

The hate came back to Toshak's eyes.

Aeswiren met it, accepting the dark cloud. Then he put his right hand to his chest before speaking. "The guilt for this evil will never leave me. I accept my responsibility. I say only that I signed the order in ignorance. But this I swear: I will put an end to all killing. Men under my command will no longer attack your people without suffering just punishment."

After a long moment of silence, Toshak nodded, accepting the Emperor's words on their face value. "I would expect you to do no more than that. But what, I wonder, can be done to make up for what your men have already done to us?"

"It can never be made up. I know that. But when I regain my throne, I will begin a program of compensation for your injuries. If it is within my strength and power to do it, I will make things whole again. For the lost lives, and other injuries, there is no power in the world that can repair them."

It was a long speech for Aeswiren, and his control of word order was not exact, but his sincerity glowed in his eyes. Nuza saw that Toshak had been moved by it. She gave thanks to the Spirit.

"So," said Toshak, "how can I help you, Emperor?"

"I need to know how my forces here are disposed. They are based on an island to the south, called Mauste, I believe you said."

"Yes. Most of the ships are moored there. But others raid our coasts and supply the forts on the shores of Sulmo."

"Yes, you mentioned these forts before, to Nuza. How many are they and where can I find them?"

The audaciousness of it was the key. That's why the men would know it was him. Who else would dare something like this? Only old Aeswiren, the legendary fighter who came back three times from defeat to win everything in the end. Only Aeswiren, who'd taken ten thousand beaten men and made them into an army that won an Empire. Only Aeswiren, who'd risen from defeat to win victory at Kaggenbank.

Audacity and his own legend, that was what he had in his favor.

His guides had faded back into the undergrowth. These young mots were clad in a camouflage fabric so effective that he could hardly see them in the woods at a distance of twenty feet.

It was time.

He strode out from behind the last tree and started for the fort. The ground was rough, stippled with tree stumps, littered with broken branches. When he was less than two hundred yards from the gate, somebody on the tower gave a yell.

Aeswiren noted that the fort was well built. The gate was solid, with proper stockade construction. The ditch was deep. Aeswiren smiled at seeing the professional quality on display. Good fortifications had always been something he'd prided himself on.

He wondered how many archers on that wall had him in their sights right then. At this range, the sharpshooters would not miss. He waved a hand, continued a steady walk.

They'd seen that he was a well-dressed man with a shining helmet and burnished breastplate. Those would tip them off that he was an officer, at the least.

"Who goes there?" roared a voice from the gate.

He stopped, raised both arms and roared back, "I am Aeswiren."

This produced a harsh bark of laughter, followed by: "Oh, sure, and I'm a monkey's arsehole. Stop playing around. Who are you? And how did you get here?"

Aeswiren laughed, waved a hand, and kept walking. "Meet me at the gate," he called. "Are there any veterans among you?"

"Veterans? Plenty of 'em. We're Third Regiment here."

"Ah, the fighting Third. I know you well. You were at Kaggenbank."

There was a sudden silence on the top of the wall. The gate opened a crack.

"All right, approach the gate. Let's have a look at you."

A number of men had climbed up to the parapet gatehouse to take a look at this phenomenon, a man come alive out of the woods. It hadn't happened before. Men went out into the woods, they died in the woods.

"You don't look like a scout," said a voice from the wall. "How'd you make it out of there? The monkeys kill our scouts."

"Look at that breastplate," said another voice. "Look at that helmet. That's gold chasing, my friend. Very expensive."

"It's one of the generals, then? The ones that were captured."

"Maybe. You, step closer."

The man with the gold chasing on his helmet stepped up to the gate.

The corporal of the gate detail, old Pils Heeber, pushed forward to do the talking. "All right, all right. Now, excuse me, sir, whoever you are, you have to forgive us. We've never seen anyone walk out of the forest like that. Scouts have only come back at night. The monkeys are always out there."

"Ah, yes. Well, boys, I think we're going to see an end to all that pretty soon. I expect you're tired of being stuck out here."

"Sir, as long as they feed us, we're proud to do our duty. Ain't we, boys?"

They gave loud assent.

Sergeant Kaffee had dragged himself away from lunch, a kedgeree and a fish pudding. "All right, what's all this? Why is this gate open? Are we going to let in every sodomistic monkey in the fornicating woods?"

Corporal Heeber turned around quickly.

"Ah, Sergeant, we got someone here who just walked out of the woods."

"What?"

Then Sergeant Kaffee got a clear look at the man in his high-class metal finery. The sergeant felt his jaw drop. He felt his pulse race. His knees wobbled.

Sergeant Kaffee had served in the Emperor's personal guard five years back. He'd volunteered for the colony expedition from the guard. It had been regarded back then as a privilege, a chance to get out of Shasht and forge a new life in a land without the weight of Shasht society holding a man down.

"Open the gate!" the sergeant bellowed. He slammed to attention and thrust his arm up in the imperial salute.

The others stopped laughing and looked at him aghast.

"Sir!" roared Sergeant Kaffee in his best parade-ground voice. "Begging your pardon, sir. I had no idea, sir. Sergeant Kaffee, Third Regiment, reporting, sir!"

Corporal Heeber was looking at Kaffee like he expected the sergeant to start barking next. "What's that about, Sergeant?"

"You idiot," hissed Sergeant Kaffee, "that
is
the Emperor Aeswiren. I served in his guard. I know that's him."

Aeswiren allowed himself a little grin as he heard this. It had been a hell of a gamble, but the first piece of luck had come his way. He'd run into a veteran right off. Someone who had actually seen the Emperor Aeswiren at close quarters and recognized him at once.

The other men still hesitated. Kaffee spoke up again in his parade-ground voice. "Sir, begging your pardon, sir. I was in your personal guard during the time of the fishermen riots."

"You was in the guard, Sarge?" asked Corporal Heeber.

"Oh, shit!" said someone a little too loudly.

"Sir!" said Corporal Heeber, finally coming to attention and raising his hand in the imperial salute.

"Sir!" chorused the others.

The gate swung wide. Aeswiren acknowledged their salute and let them stand easy.

"Don't sweat it, boys. Hell, I'm the last person I'd expect to come walking out of these woods. Your disbelief was understandable. But, thanks to Sergeant Kaffee here, we've established who I am. It's a long story, and I will tell it all very shortly. But first I have some things to do. Now, who's the commanding officer here?"

The men stared at the gold chasing on the breastplate. Worth a small fortune on its own. And they saw the heavy gold rings on the man's fingers, and they heard the words and felt the bearing of the man.

"Uh, that will be the colonel, sir. Colonel Breuze."

"Excellent, and where will I find the colonel?"

Admiral Heuze paced up and down the floor of his stateroom aboard the flagship
Anvil
, his peg leg making a dull clunk with every step. They had spotted a distant sail approaching hours before, and the ship had been beating up to them through an irregular breeze ever since. Heuze was worried, and impatient, which was not a good mixture.

The first news had come from Ensign Combliss, shortly after the distant ship's hull became visible. "It's the
Duster
, sir. Frigate that went back to Shasht year before last. Was replaced by the frigate
Wasp
, sir."

"What are they doing here, then?"

"Say they have a special passenger. Request a meeting with you, sir."

Heuze did not like mysteries like this. Coming on top of the bizarre news from his forts it was unsettling. Who was this "special passenger"? Was there a connection with this madness from the forts? A man had appeared from the forest, claiming to be Emperor Aeswiren. Three forts had gone over to this man.

Heuze didn't know yet if the men had gone barking mad or if he had a rebellion on his hands, though it certainly sounded ominous.

"A message, sir." The door had opened after a knock. A hand passed in a slip of paper.

"Identity of special passenger, Filek Biswas," he read with astounded eyes.

"Any return message, sir?"

Heuze hesitated, befuddled by surprise. "No. No return."

The door closed.

Shaken, with mounting concern for what all this might mean, Heuze sat down by his desk. This news was the last thing he might have expected.

Filek Biswas had come back? But what about his research program? What the hell had happened in Shasht? And if the
Duster
was bringing Filek Biswas to see him, who was this man who had convinced three forts that he was the fornicating Emperor Aeswiren the Third?

Rousing himself at last, Heuze took his spyglass and went up to the quarterdeck and studied the approaching frigate carefully. Her rigging was worn but seaworthy. To Heuze's expert eye, she had the look of a ship that had been at sea for a long time.