enormous chambers suitable for the purposes of the Presidio lying empty.
In the Presidio Kov Vodun na Kaldi proved a volatile and persuasive speaker. Constantly he sought to encourage us to action. His hatred for the Hamalese and the Pandaheem was implacable. With his reiterated calls for the utter destruction of the invaders he reminded me of Cato and his never-ending
Carthago delenda est
.
Various conversations with him from time to time revealed him as a man with a history. Fretful at being the son of a kov who might have to wait years before he came into the title, the lands and power, and the responsibility, he went abroad and became a mercenary. Because Vallia had not kept a standing army, being mainly a trading maritime nation, many of her young men took themselves overseas to become mercenaries. Many had become famous paktuns. Kov Vodun was one such, entitled to wear the pakmort, the silver mortil-head on its silk cord at his throat. He did not wear it at home for, as he said, that would be too flamboyant.
So, he did understand something of soldiering.
He mentioned various places in Loh, where most of his service had been spent, and, as I summed him up, he grew in my estimation. We needed men like this, tough, no-nonsense professionals to put the polish on the crowds of eager but raw recruits who flocked to the standards.
When I offered him a brigade, somewhat diffidently, I must admit, expecting him to refuse, he accepted.
“Give me the brigade, majister. You will soon see my men will form the best brigade in the army.”
The appointment was warmly endorsed by the Presidio.
Thinking myself foolish for offering a command to a man half expecting him to refuse — a very poor way of going on — I wondered if Delia’s attitude had contributed to that feeling of inexplicable hesitancy. Naghan Vanki, the emperor’s chief spymaster, reported that everything Kov Vodun had said was true. Vanki gave him a clean bill of health, and my spirits lifted at that. Asked about the mysterious green-cloaked figure, Vanki gave his thin smile.
“He is merely an adviser to the kov, majister. He is one of the Wizards of Fruningen, a small sect but with some claim to serious consideration. They regard Opaz, I am told, as a single entity and not, as indeed they truly are, the Invisible Twins, one and indissolubly twins.”
I raised my eyebrows at this, for Vanki expressed an extreme view. Most people regarded Opaz as the spirit of the Invisible Twins made manifest. And I knew of the island of Fruningen, a small rocky scrap jutting out of the sea northwest of the island of Tezpor. Reports, amplified by Kov Vodun, told us that the Vad of Tezpor, Larghos the Lame, had been hanged upside down from his own rooftree by flutsmen. And, Tezpor lay due north of the large island of Rahartdrin. There was nothing simple I could do for Katrin Rashumin save pray to all the gods she was safe.
“So far I have not met a Wizard of Fruningen,” I said to Naghan Vanki. “They are clearly not to be compared to the Wizards of Loh.” At this Vanki let his thin smile indicate the idiocy of the remark. I went on: “But how stand they in relation to the Sorcerers of Murcroinim?”
“If one were to engage the other in wizardly combat, Majister, I fear they would both disappear in puffs of smoke.”
“At least that argues real powers.”
“Yes.”
Naghan Vanki had dealt with a few real powers in his time, powers of steel and gold; I did not think a sorcerer would discompose him overmuch. A tough, wily old bird, Naghan Vanki, always impeccable in his silver and black.
So Kov Vodun got his brigade and began smartening them up and putting a snap in their step and iron into their backbones.
Then, although it spelled misery and desolation for the unfortunate people involved, an event occurred which gave me a capital opportunity to delegate responsibilities in Vondium to the Crebent-Justicar, the Lord Farris, and the Presidio, and take off for
In the Presidio Kov Vodun na Kaldi proved a volatile and persuasive speaker. Constantly he sought to encourage us to action. His hatred for the Hamalese and the Pandaheem was implacable. With his reiterated calls for the utter destruction of the invaders he reminded me of Cato and his never-ending
Carthago delenda est
.
Various conversations with him from time to time revealed him as a man with a history. Fretful at being the son of a kov who might have to wait years before he came into the title, the lands and power, and the responsibility, he went abroad and became a mercenary. Because Vallia had not kept a standing army, being mainly a trading maritime nation, many of her young men took themselves overseas to become mercenaries. Many had become famous paktuns. Kov Vodun was one such, entitled to wear the pakmort, the silver mortil-head on its silk cord at his throat. He did not wear it at home for, as he said, that would be too flamboyant.
So, he did understand something of soldiering.
He mentioned various places in Loh, where most of his service had been spent, and, as I summed him up, he grew in my estimation. We needed men like this, tough, no-nonsense professionals to put the polish on the crowds of eager but raw recruits who flocked to the standards.
When I offered him a brigade, somewhat diffidently, I must admit, expecting him to refuse, he accepted.
“Give me the brigade, majister. You will soon see my men will form the best brigade in the army.”
The appointment was warmly endorsed by the Presidio.
Thinking myself foolish for offering a command to a man half expecting him to refuse — a very poor way of going on — I wondered if Delia’s attitude had contributed to that feeling of inexplicable hesitancy. Naghan Vanki, the emperor’s chief spymaster, reported that everything Kov Vodun had said was true. Vanki gave him a clean bill of health, and my spirits lifted at that. Asked about the mysterious green-cloaked figure, Vanki gave his thin smile.
“He is merely an adviser to the kov, majister. He is one of the Wizards of Fruningen, a small sect but with some claim to serious consideration. They regard Opaz, I am told, as a single entity and not, as indeed they truly are, the Invisible Twins, one and indissolubly twins.”
I raised my eyebrows at this, for Vanki expressed an extreme view. Most people regarded Opaz as the spirit of the Invisible Twins made manifest. And I knew of the island of Fruningen, a small rocky scrap jutting out of the sea northwest of the island of Tezpor. Reports, amplified by Kov Vodun, told us that the Vad of Tezpor, Larghos the Lame, had been hanged upside down from his own rooftree by flutsmen. And, Tezpor lay due north of the large island of Rahartdrin. There was nothing simple I could do for Katrin Rashumin save pray to all the gods she was safe.
“So far I have not met a Wizard of Fruningen,” I said to Naghan Vanki. “They are clearly not to be compared to the Wizards of Loh.” At this Vanki let his thin smile indicate the idiocy of the remark. I went on: “But how stand they in relation to the Sorcerers of Murcroinim?”
“If one were to engage the other in wizardly combat, Majister, I fear they would both disappear in puffs of smoke.”
“At least that argues real powers.”
“Yes.”
Naghan Vanki had dealt with a few real powers in his time, powers of steel and gold; I did not think a sorcerer would discompose him overmuch. A tough, wily old bird, Naghan Vanki, always impeccable in his silver and black.
So Kov Vodun got his brigade and began smartening them up and putting a snap in their step and iron into their backbones.
Then, although it spelled misery and desolation for the unfortunate people involved, an event occurred which gave me a capital opportunity to delegate responsibilities in Vondium to the Crebent-Justicar, the Lord Farris, and the Presidio, and take off for
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