very pleased with the poison he had spread.
Late the next day, the members of the Inner Council sat in their accustomed places as each tendered his report to the lord. Councilor Rukh was first to speak.
“My lord, I entertained three of the envoys at my own house, the ambassador and two chiefs named Guklak and Shatterspear. Ambassador Yalmuk has his resentments, but on the whole I perceive him as loyal to his chief. Guklak is fanatically loyal to Kyaga. Shatterspear, on the other hand, is ripe for rebellion. Kyaga defeated him in battle and incorporated his tribe into the greater nation. Shatterspear resents this usurpation of his own leadership. Also, he is stupid and a wastrel, very greedy for gold. He can be had for a few coins.”
“Very good,” said the lord, keeping to himself his own doubts about the loyalty of Ambassador Yalmuk. He likewise kept to himself his doubts about Councilor Rukh’s report. Whatever had passed between the ambitious aristocrat and the nomads, Rukh would report it in whatever form would serve to advance his own schemes. The Lord of Tarsis knew he could credit only information confirmed by a number of sources, including that tendered by spies of his own planted in each noble household. He heard out the others, and each had much the same report.
“This is excellent,” said the lord when all had spoken. “Among the envoys, the breakdown seems to be roughly thus: one third are extremely loyal to Kyaga, one third are wavering, and one third are ready to rebel at the hint of a bribe. With this knowledge, we can begin to undermine Kyaga. It is almost certain that the bulk of his subchiefs, who even now gather on the plain outside our gates, are similarly chancy of loyalty. I shall draw out negotiations as long as possible, while you continue subverting his chiefs. Give them plenty of gifts. Promise them honors and titles, for these cost us nothing. Promise them gold
and other treasure, even Tarsian women as wives and concubines. Payment can always be deferred.”
“Kyaga Strongbow arrives upon the morrow, my lord,” reminded Councilor Melkar. “He may be in no mood for negotiation.”
“If not, defensive arrangements will be in order,” assured the Lord of Tarsis.
“My lord,” said Councilor Alban, an old man notorious for his many superstitions, “my star-reader warns me that a grim future awaits Tarsis. He says that the signs are in place for a war of armies and sorcerers and dragons. Might this shaman of Kyaga’s command powerful magic? If so, what steps should we take to ward off his spells?”
It was a struggle for the lord to hide his disgust. He had little patience with Alban, but the man was immensely wealthy and had to be reckoned with. Wizards! Dragons! Things of history and legend! What had these to do with war and diplomacy in the modern world? Still, he spoke soothingly.
“Councilor Alban, I have spoken with the man and find him a mere, ignorant tribesman. I have also consulted with merchants who have traveled extensively among the nomads. All assure me that the tribal shamans are no more than fraudulent mountebanks. They say they commune with the dead, but what of that? Is a dead savage somehow more dangerous than a live one?” This raised a chuckle from the council. “Beyond that, they practice petty arts of healing and cursing. Some of these require no magic at all; some are spells of the weakest sort. If the nomads knew any great sorcery, would they not have mastered the world long ago?”
“These are wise observations,” Alban allowed, “yet the possibility exists that something may have changed. I have received disturbing reports, my lords. Sentries atop the walls have reported sightings of a strange apparition
in the skies: a vast, winged creature, accompanied by a sound of great wings beating. My staff of wizards affirm that this may be a true dragon of the Great Wyrm class. If so, this portends great shocks and changes.”
The Lord of Tarsis
Late the next day, the members of the Inner Council sat in their accustomed places as each tendered his report to the lord. Councilor Rukh was first to speak.
“My lord, I entertained three of the envoys at my own house, the ambassador and two chiefs named Guklak and Shatterspear. Ambassador Yalmuk has his resentments, but on the whole I perceive him as loyal to his chief. Guklak is fanatically loyal to Kyaga. Shatterspear, on the other hand, is ripe for rebellion. Kyaga defeated him in battle and incorporated his tribe into the greater nation. Shatterspear resents this usurpation of his own leadership. Also, he is stupid and a wastrel, very greedy for gold. He can be had for a few coins.”
“Very good,” said the lord, keeping to himself his own doubts about the loyalty of Ambassador Yalmuk. He likewise kept to himself his doubts about Councilor Rukh’s report. Whatever had passed between the ambitious aristocrat and the nomads, Rukh would report it in whatever form would serve to advance his own schemes. The Lord of Tarsis knew he could credit only information confirmed by a number of sources, including that tendered by spies of his own planted in each noble household. He heard out the others, and each had much the same report.
“This is excellent,” said the lord when all had spoken. “Among the envoys, the breakdown seems to be roughly thus: one third are extremely loyal to Kyaga, one third are wavering, and one third are ready to rebel at the hint of a bribe. With this knowledge, we can begin to undermine Kyaga. It is almost certain that the bulk of his subchiefs, who even now gather on the plain outside our gates, are similarly chancy of loyalty. I shall draw out negotiations as long as possible, while you continue subverting his chiefs. Give them plenty of gifts. Promise them honors and titles, for these cost us nothing. Promise them gold
and other treasure, even Tarsian women as wives and concubines. Payment can always be deferred.”
“Kyaga Strongbow arrives upon the morrow, my lord,” reminded Councilor Melkar. “He may be in no mood for negotiation.”
“If not, defensive arrangements will be in order,” assured the Lord of Tarsis.
“My lord,” said Councilor Alban, an old man notorious for his many superstitions, “my star-reader warns me that a grim future awaits Tarsis. He says that the signs are in place for a war of armies and sorcerers and dragons. Might this shaman of Kyaga’s command powerful magic? If so, what steps should we take to ward off his spells?”
It was a struggle for the lord to hide his disgust. He had little patience with Alban, but the man was immensely wealthy and had to be reckoned with. Wizards! Dragons! Things of history and legend! What had these to do with war and diplomacy in the modern world? Still, he spoke soothingly.
“Councilor Alban, I have spoken with the man and find him a mere, ignorant tribesman. I have also consulted with merchants who have traveled extensively among the nomads. All assure me that the tribal shamans are no more than fraudulent mountebanks. They say they commune with the dead, but what of that? Is a dead savage somehow more dangerous than a live one?” This raised a chuckle from the council. “Beyond that, they practice petty arts of healing and cursing. Some of these require no magic at all; some are spells of the weakest sort. If the nomads knew any great sorcery, would they not have mastered the world long ago?”
“These are wise observations,” Alban allowed, “yet the possibility exists that something may have changed. I have received disturbing reports, my lords. Sentries atop the walls have reported sightings of a strange apparition
in the skies: a vast, winged creature, accompanied by a sound of great wings beating. My staff of wizards affirm that this may be a true dragon of the Great Wyrm class. If so, this portends great shocks and changes.”
The Lord of Tarsis
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