Gorfinia had not made a move, which he couldn’t decipher, but it didn’t appear to be promising. This was where his king needed to throw in his weight. He was at a loss, but his king soldiered on.
“Then share of notoriety, and indeed the spoils, resides with us. You will be compensated for any military contribution in some small way, but the prize of Ahan sits exclusively with Delfinia. These will be the terms of our engagement, unless anyone wants to reconsider.”
He had never seen such greed in a man. The Emperor was moist with effort. It looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle, which he probably was. Ahan was the jewel of the near world – of the entire world, perhaps – and to forgo that prize was expensive indeed. But he could see doubt in the eyes of the Emperor. He was no risk-taker. In fact, he was barely a taker at all. That brought a laugh, and Jowls turned upon him.
“You mock me?”
“No, Imperial Majesty, of course not.” He spluttered a bit, and his king shot him a warning look. Jowls was obviously trying to leverage a beneficial compromise in his head, but he couldn’t think fast enough. The moment got ahead of him, and he spoke with a panicked edge.
“Mikaeta will commit her men, but I am unsure what more we can offer. The terms of settlement would need to be prearranged before we confirm, and the terms will need to be generous to balance the risk.” His king nodded. He too was sweating, but that was a consequence of financial insecurity. The ruler of Delfinia would be committing a lot here. He was glad his king trusted him. His king would have to commit a whole lot more before the fighting began.
“Does Gorfinia commit troops?” The Hooded King nodded solemnly. A good outcome. “And what about funds?” The shake of the head was not surprising. Gorfinia barely dealt in currency anyway. His king’s burden of coin was going to be heavy indeed.
Especially when they still needed to earn the chance. That too would be expensive.
But this was a moment of victory. Of sorts. He had his plan, and he had his somewhat reluctant players. His dream was marching to reality, and he finally took some alcohol. He even smiled openly when his king offered a friendly hand to the Emperor.
And then the freak spoke.
“General. I have some residual concerns with your theory.”
Surely not now? He suspected that the freak was doing this to wind him up, and the bastard was doing it well. His grip tightened and the goblet in his hand shook subtly.
“Your manoeuvre will certainly draw the heavy forces, but you forget the finer barbs.”
They still needed to earn the chance, but he didn’t want to talk about that now. Because you couldn’t beat a...
“And what barbs are those?”
The Enabler’s words slivered, like the snake that spoke them. “Why the Mandahoi, of course. The Academy is bloated with competency, and forgive my interjection, but you are no more capable of felling a troop of mandahoi than I am of absolute foresight. A single mandahoi, yes, but a troop? I fear you could be foiled.”
He hated the bastard even more in that moment, but this time it was different. This time he hated him because he was right.
________
He had thought about it, of course he had. What sort of military tactician would he be if he hadn’t? It had niggled at the back of his plans, intoxicating his confidence and draining him. He ran his hand over his unruly stubble, appreciating the coarseness, and narrowed his eyes. Was this to be his undoing?
“Did you know this?”
His king looked most displeased.
“It had crossed my mind.” Only he could get away with being so flippant. Even he may struggle to get away with it here.
They were riding back to Triosec, signed agreements in their hands subject to some bartering on the proceeds of victory. If victory was coming at all. Nerves fluttered. Damn it, nerves never fluttered in him.
“So this plan we have may not even work.”
He exhaled, which hardly spread confidence.
The day was bright, another scorching afternoon on the baked plains of Mikaeta. The journey back to the heart of Delfinia would be several days, mainly because the pace needed to be so sedate. No-one could ride full pace in this heat. He was sweating profusely already, his back drenched and itchy. But the peacocks didn’t seem to care. He turned to the manicured tail, and he found himself envying the preposterous sun shades they had at their disposal. He would not be seen dead with such luxury, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t appealing.
He ignored his discomfort and sought to appease his king. He had to. “It will work.” His lack of confidence radiated, and his voice wavered. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, revealing a pocket of sticky sweat that had been lodged between his testicles and his leg. Annoyingly, that made things worse.
Of course, he had an answer to the problem. Remove the Mandahoi and you have a chance. A chance. What he had designed was a way to exploit the chance, but he had not yet created that chance. That was the flaw in his plan. It was quite a big one.
“You do realise that we are not proceeding unless I am entirely convinced, and you’re not exactly selling at the moment. This is going to clean Delfinia out.”
And this was the problem. This was the absolute crux of the problem. He gulped.
So much of his plan relied on money. Bloody money. His political insights were short, and where he’d set out for Maegwyn with hopes of securing substantial funds, his plans now appeared to be in danger.
Because he did know how to foil the damned Mandahoi. The only problem: he needed more money.
Damn the cheap Mikaetans, and damn the strange hand of Gorfinia. He did not know how to tell his master.
“Bellowing Brother, Kantal! Convince me.”
There was no option. Not anymore. His entire life had been leading to this point, and so he needed to craft the path. Everything he had done, even the exploits that named his notoriety, all of it was leading to this. To maim a handful of the Grey was ultimately meaningless. His true calling was to dislodge the limpet-like Mandari from Ahan. He would free the Motherland and restore the legacy of his dead queen.
But he needed money, and he needed lots of it.
“You are right to be nervous,” the monarch threw his hands up in disgust, but he was not to be stalled. “But there is a way. We spoke before Maegwyn about the need to disrupt the Mandahoi. To occupy them some way. Well, the alliance we have crafted will not do the trick. The Mandahoi are too numerous. But there is something that will.”
His king’s displeasure diluted for a moment, and those piercing eyes took on a rather sceptical impression. “What will work?”
This was going to sound ridiculous. This was going to sound utterly ridiculous.
“Dragons.”
Scepticism morphed into outright mockery.
“What are you talking of? Dragons are just stories.”
“Well yes, err, not quite dragons.” A fine showing. Confidence, damn it! “I have it on very fine intelligence that there are dragon-like creatures for sale.” His king did not seem to bite. “They may not offer all the gilt of the myth, but they are, by all accounts, very large and very vicious lizards. And they can fly.”
He wasn’t sure he believed it now that he’d said it out loud, but then he recalled the man. It was not a scam. How he came to meet the shady character was anyone’s guess. They just seemed to end up speaking in a tavern. But at the end of a night of intense discourse, they determined that he needed something and that the other had access to it.
It was chance, utter chance, but every victory needed its touch from the Father, didn’t it? The Lord of Chance melted into his thoughts and he shuddered.
“Who on l’Unna has sold you this fanciful tale? And what’s more, why do you believe them?” His king was evidently not convinced. At least not yet.
“Your Majesty, I do believe him. He was very clear that he would evidence the tools before any deal
is made. He was also very generous in his terms of credit, and if I were to be pushed, I would go further and suggest that he is of very old lineage.” Did old suggest honourable? Maybe the opposite, but it would add weight nonetheless.
That did indeed get his king’s attention.
“You mean unhuman old?”
“I would say so, yes.” It was difficult to tell with the deep cloak, but there had been something distinctly alien about the man. He seemed to be from another time and place. It was known that the Old Ones continued to haunt the shadows of the world – Maegwyn employed a small host for example – yet few were known to openly interact. But who else could harness control over the dragons? No! Not dragons. They were sendeté, apparently.
He could see the shrewd ruler cooling, warming to this opportunity. He could take the chance if he could earn it, and two sendeté could knot the Mandahoi for many days and moons. The confidence started to bubble once more. There was just one last stumbling block, but there was no way his king would miss it.
“How much for these services?”
He licked his lips. “The overall cost of the exercise will, ah, double.”
“Argh!” That was a fair response. “I am already scraping the chest for those damned Nadari! Where do you expect me to find that sort of coin?”
He was hoping that Gorfinia would bend, but failing that he had no idea. Absolutely no idea. It didn’t sit well with him. But he was not a treasurer. He was a soldier and a tactician. He had the