The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (8 page)

“May I continue?”

“But, of course, my dear, dear Nulfie, pray continue.” Obyann

guffawed. “Since you think it’s cute, you don’t mind me calling you

Nulfie too, do you?”

He seemed on the brink of succumbing to the silly laugh again.

“Not at all,” Arranulf said. “Go right ahead. Ahem...” He continued

where he had been interrupted. “He seems a nice guy. We were so

worried when we read about that awful storm. You’re so lucky that

you found someone to sleep with. Not everybody likes naked boys

getting into their bed. So... So...”

Arranulf halted.

“So what?” Obyann, becoming slightly suspicious, asked.

Arranulf tried to keep his face as blank as possible.

“So... So... So don’t forget to thank Obie-Wobie as well—”

“What?” Obyann yelled, becoming instantly dark purple in the

face.

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He ran to the door, opened it and roared into the rain.

“Come back, come back here, I said, you scribbling, ink guzzling,

letter peddling, gossiping, stinking, miserable, dirty, weird little rat.

Come back, you hear me. I’m going to hurt you severely. I’ll break

every bone in your pathetic, emaciated body and more specifically

your evil fingers. You won’t write another word for the rest of your

wretched, depressing life, which won’t last long anyway if I get my

way, you rancid, stark raving mad, creepy, lunatic twat.”

“I thought it was cute,” Arranulf said soberly to nobody in

particular.

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59

Notwithstanding the late hour and the dark clouds that were

gathering above Lorseth, Anaxantis had decided to make the rounds

of the castle walls, seemingly as a surprise inspection, but in reality

because he felt he needed the cool night air. Upon seeing him, the

guards sprang to attention. He greeted them, told them to stand at

ease, and passed them without really taking notice. When he reached

the part of the battlements that jutted out above the gates, he leaned

on a crenel and looked out over the landscape.

It was dark, but he knew the disposition of the different units

well, and moreover, some of them kept fires burning day and night.

The army was growing by the day. More than half of the projected

three thousand men of the Landemere Contingent were joined by a

few hundred freshly recruited Amirathan Militia men, with dozens

arriving each day.

In all probability the Mukthars would attack between the end of

April and the end of May. That left barely enough time to recruit and

train the men. He sighed.

“I’ll have to face them with whatever men are ready. Even then they

will be nothing more than unbloodied, raw recruits. I’d better have

some good tactical plans ready. Who knows, maybe father has indeed

some excellent, compelling reasons for not wanting to confront them.

But whatever they are, they can’t offset so many civilian lives, not to

mention all the destruction the barbarians will leave in their wake.

Besides, if he thinks they are valid, he should have taken me into his

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confidence and explained his intentions. Am I not his representative?

Am I not watching his back while he guards our southern border?”

He pulled his mantle closer around him as a gust of wind made

him shiver. He looked up at the sky. The clouds were pitch dark. He

gazed a last time over the sprawling barracks and tents.

“What do you see, Demrac, when you look out of your headquarters?

I bet you see your army growing and growing. But from this vantage

point I see something entirely different, commander, and I am

astonished you don’t see it as well.”

He went back and descended the wall stairs, which ended in a

small turret. When he was about to exit it, he saw, behind the partially

open door, a figure in a hooded black mantle, pointing at something

that was scratched into the wall.

“Anaxantis, Anaxantis, standing firm in the storm, one try or no

cookie,” the figure whispered.

In a fraction of a moment, Anaxantis had drawn his dagger,

jumped the hooded figure, wrung his right arm behind his back, and

forced him to the ground with his knee pressed firmly on his back,

his dagger under his throat.

“Speak. Speak fast and clearly or you will never speak again,” he

hissed.

“Ouch, ouch,” came a complaining woman’s voice from under the

hood. “They said you would understand.”

“Renda?” Anaxantis gasped. “Is that you?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Renda replied, on the verge of tears.

Anaxantis rose and held out his hand to help her up.

“Who would have thought,” he said when she was upright again.

“You of all people... You, a living letter?”

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61

“Yes, I am. So your lordship will understand that I don’t even

know what all that meant. I just learned it by rote. They also told me

to draw that in an inconspicuous place.”

She pointed at the scratched sign on the wall. Vaguely it showed

a capital A with a dot under.

“She mentioned my name twice. She mentioned the weather. There

on the wall is an A, representing my name, which she obviously couldn’t

write in full, with a dot under. The cookie was added to make doubly

sure that I would understand. Mother.”

“You have a message from my mother?”

“Yes. And you can send one back to her too. Where can we talk?”

Anaxantis thought for a moment.

“Go back to the kitchen. I’ll send a page over to ask for a bowl of

soup in about half an hour.”

He stuck his head out of the turret and looked around, but there

was nobody in sight.

“I’ll go first. Wait a few minutes after I’m gone. Don’t start heating

the soup. Wait until the page comes to ask for it before you do. Then

send him away and say you’ll bring it yourself when it is ready.”

“Renda is here with your late evening snack, my lord,” Ambrick

said from the open door of the war room.

“Show her in, Ambrick. Ah, Renda, thank you. Please, sit down,

I have some questions about a dinner I want to organize for some

of my friends. Thank you, Ambrick, that will be all. Close the door

behind you, please.”

Ambrick left and Renda put a platter with a bowl of soup, grated

cheese, bread, and butter before Anaxantis, who immediately shoved

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it aside.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asked, sitting down.

“Huh? Oh no, I’m not hungry.”

“Won’t it be suspicious if someone noticed you called for a late

night snack and then didn’t touch it?” she asked, eyeballing the plate

with obvious appetite.

Anaxantis smiled.

“I really couldn’t eat for the moment, though it smells delicious.

Could you help us out here, maybe?”

Renda nodded, half rose and pulled the tray to her. She sprinkled

some grated cheese on the soup, hesitated, shrugged, took another,

much more generous portion, and dropped it in the bowl.

“Do you mind if we continue, while you’re eating?” Anaxantis

asked.

“No, of course not, my lord,” Renda said, blowing in her spoon.

“Since you’re a living letter, I suppose mother knows about...

him,” Anaxantis said, nodding towards the ceiling.

The Tribe of Mekthona had started using living letters soon after

they were founded. In the chaotic period of the Warring Barons

messengers were often intercepted and their destiny was anything

but enviable if documents were found on them. But who would

suspect a simple woman or an ordinary man who didn’t carry any

written message? While traveling through enemy territory they kept

their eyes wide open. Living letters often doubled as spies.

“I’m afraid so, my lord. I’m sorry, but my first loyalty lies with

your—”

“That’s quite all right, Renda.” Anaxantis smiled. “I suspected she

had informers in Lorseth. I just didn’t think they would be this near.”

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63

Renda looked at him with almost motherly concern.

“She means only for the best, my lord. She can’t do much herself

for the moment, I understand, but she wants to keep an eye on

you nevertheless.” She shrugged. “Of course, since I am no longer

permitted to bring him his meals, there hasn’t been anything to report

lately.” She hesitated. “Speaking about that, would it be terribly—”

“Yes, it would,” Anaxantis said curtly.

Renda looked down in her soup.

“Yes, I thought so. Such a shame...” She looked up. “Still, I suppose

you know best.”

“We’ll both have to hope for that to be true, Renda. Now, was

there more to the message?”

“Oh yes. She wants you to know that all is well with her and that

she is safe in Soranza. She sends her love and hopes that all is well

with you too. She wants you to know that, although she is restricted

in her actions, she will do all she can to help you. She rejoices in your

successes, but urges you to be careful. In particular, she strongly

advises you to be careful with those you trust the most. Some of your

closest collaborators have frailties that could make them susceptible

to certain influences. Your aunt Sobrathi, who sends her love too, is

investigating them.”

“I could have known. The fire at the moneylender’s. It bears aunt

Sobrathi’s hallmark. She was never one for half measures.”

“As for the coming battle,” Renda continued. “Your mother is

aware that you have grown a lot in the past year and that you have

overcome many difficulties. She is proud of you. She expects you to

bring the terror of war upon the barbarians with all that is in you.

Give no quarter. Spare none of them. Make the few that survive speak

your name in awe, trembling with fear. When you advance, may your

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men bravely follow you. When you stand fast, may they loyally stand

with you. When you take flight, may they ignominiously slay you...

Oh dear, that was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?”

Anaxantis smiled complaisantly.

“However, she also hopes that you have the wisdom to know the

difference between cowardly running away and a necessary retreat.

There is no shame in avoiding a battle that is lost before it begins

and retiring to fight another day. Only a fool fights against impossible

odds. Always remember that the blood of the ancient royal house

of Mekthona flows in your veins, as well as that of the Tanahkos

robbers. I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that, my dear... I mean, my

lord.”

“Oh yes, she did,” Anaxantis said, and laughed. “All of it. My own

men killing me included. If I wasn’t already, I would be really sure

now that this comes from mother.”

“Above all, she wants you to always remember that she loves

you... That was it.”

“Thank you,” Anaxantis said. “This works both ways, you said?

Finish your meal at your ease, while I think about a reply.”

“Maybe, just maybe, she still has some sources in father’s circle. The

Tribe is so intertwined with the Royal Administration that she must be

able to give me at least something to go on. My friends. She mustn’t

disrupt the lives of my friends.”

Renda laid down her spoon and cleaned out the bowl with the

last crust of bread.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Certainly, my lord. I may ask you to repeat some things. I was

born with a good memory and we were trained in special techniques,

but still, I will need a piece of parchment, a quill and ink. I have to

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make notes in a special form of writing. When you are done, I will

need some time to memorize the message. Afterwards, you can burn

the parchment yourself, if you want.”

Anaxantis went to a cabinet and fetched the items she had asked

for.

“Please don’t speak too fast, my lord,” she said, suddenly all

businesslike. Every resemblance with the good natured cook was