Lesson of the Fire (12 page)

The dux continued. “We can suggest
solutions, but they are all … problematic, from a legal
perspective. Whoever succeeds Sven Takraf on the Chair needs to be
sympathetic to our current plight.”

“You want a Mardux who will grant you
amnesty in spite of your crimes,” Katla supplied.

“Yes.”

Katla nodded. “That is only fair, though I
doubt it will trouble you. Weard Schwert is the only red who openly
supports Weard Takraf. Defeat them both, and you will decide who
next sits on the Chair.”

Valgird smiled slightly, as though he
thought Volund would pick someone other than one of his own sons
for the task.

Of course, it could happen
if some accident befell Ketil before then,
Katla mused.

Volund took a moment before responding.
Perhaps he had noticed her knowing smile, too. “We will invade the
Takraf Protectorates. Weard Wost assures me he can dismantle the
automated defenses, and the handful of lesser wizards the Mardux
has charged with protecting it poses no threat to a force of a
thousand weards.”

“And then what?” Katla prompted.

Volund seemed surprised by this question.
“He will not abandon his Protectorates. Even if he does not go
there personally, he will send some of his bodyguards in his stead,
and that will make him vulnerable.”

Katla laughed. She couldn’t
help herself.
Just because Sven doesn’t
mind getting his hands dirty doesn’t mean he does it very often. He
surely has a contingency for this. But would Volund know
this?

The reds in the room stared at her with a
mixture of anger and confusion, and she managed to contain her
amusement. “Three seasons! Three seasons, and you still have not
gotten past your original solution of abducting the Mardux or
someone he cares about?”

Confusion turned to embarrassment.

Ragnar retorted hotly, “Would you rather we
all teleport into Domus Palus and assassinate him?”

Don’t even think about
it,
Katla thought, but instead she spoke
with heavy sarcasm. “That is a brilliant idea, Weard Groth! Surely
Weard Takraf would never expect you to murder him when he is
literally sitting on the Chair.”

Ragnar stood up, face flushed. “I grow weary
of your presumption, Weard Duxpite.”

“She is right,” Robert said. “The Mardux
will have anticipated such a move.”

Katla stared at the farl, hoping she didn’t
look as surprised as she actually was.

“We could try invading the Duxy of Domus,”
Ketil said in a small voice. “He’ll have to defend his
territory.”

Volund shot him an irritated look. “We have
already been over this, and it is out of the question.”

“Why?” Katla asked, feigning confusion. “Let
the battles be fought on their lands, at the expense of their
towns, farms and mundanes.”

Ragnar smirked at her apparent ignorance.
“The Duxy of Domus has a long-standing treaty with the duxies of
Gunne, Skrem and Piljerka, two of which share borders with Flasten.
If we commit most of our forces to the invasion, the Duxy of
Flasten will be vulnerable. And those duxies will invade, I can
assure you. They have no love for us.”

As many times as you’ve
invaded them on your little slaving expeditions, you’ve given them
good reason for that,
Katla thought, but
she waited, maintaining the push.

“Then there are the Drakes of the Dead
Swamps to the south,” Ragnar continued. “The gobbels have
overwhelmed our perimeter defenses before, and ochre raiders dig
under them quite regularly.”

“And those are the obvious dangers,” Arnora
added. “What if the damnens invade? What if Wasfal, Nightfire or
Pidel side with the Mardux against us?”

“That is unlikely,” Ragnar said. “The
damnens have not left the Dead Swamps in centuries, and the other
three have been neutral in political conflicts for nearly as
long.”

“Perhaps,” Arnora conceded, “but if you rule
out as impossible anything that is merely unlikely, you increase
your risk of catastrophe.”

Katla’s respect for the woman increased
fractionally, but she shared Ragnar’s skepticism over the damnens
involving themselves. While she had a healthy fear for a member of
the Drake race who did not join in the Mass and still survived,
they preferred to keep to themselves. The giant, clawed
monstrosities combined the worst of most Drake traits, from
immunity to Dinah’s Curse to near-perfect camouflage, and on top of
those, they were immune to magic. Any wizard would run before them,
and all mundanes would die.

“Brack and I had hoped it would not come to
this. Watch the myst carefully with Knowledge. I have something to
demonstrate.” Katla allowed them only a moment before reaching into
the folds of her cloak and withdrawing a short, straight twig.
“This is a Blosin wand.”

Robert’s eyes widened, and he opened his
mouth, but Katla gave him no opportunity. She touched a small knot
near one end. A jet of flame shot from the other end, leaving a
black scorch mark on one wooden wall.

The other wizards did not
react well to this sudden display, gathering the myst to counter
whatever spells Katla might produce.
If
killing you was all I hoped to achieve today, I would have done it
by now.

Even after they calmed down, Katla could
tell they didn’t yet grasp the implications.

“A slow device,” Vigfus commented. “A green
could work such magic more quickly.”

“The magic is inside the wand, so a ready
supply might prevent fatigue,” Ketil offered.

“I do not understand how this solves any of
our problems, Weard Duxpite,” Volund said, but he at least looked
interested.

Robert looked neither perplexed nor
thoughtful. He stared at Katla with undisguised fury.

Would you like to explain
to Dux Feiglin that you are the reason Sven took the Chair so
easily, Weard Wost?
Katla thought, avoiding
his gaze.

“I do not believe she had magocrats in mind
when she created this wand,” Robert said, and if his face showed
emotion, his voice certainly did not. It was a lecturer’s tone.
“The magic is in the wand itself. Mere contact between that mark on
the wand and a living tor activates it. Anyone can use it.”

Valgird reached the conclusion first.
“Mundanes.” He smiled, no doubt imagining ways he could exploit
this spell, once he knew how it worked.

“But it is against the Law to teach mundanes
to use magic,” Ari said.

Robert pressed his lips
together, and Katla knew Nightfire had already forbidden him from
giving wands to mundanes.
Otherwise you
would have had an army instead of a few slaves.

But Valgird answered with a sleek smile.
“Yes, but this is not teaching the mundanes anything about magic.
Eventually, the magic will run out, and the wand will not function
until it is enchanted again. How many uses would you say it has,
Weard Duxpite?”

“A few dozen.”

“Still, we would be giving the mundanes
weapons by equipping them with such devices,” Arnora objected.
“What is to keep the mundanes from turning the wands against
us?”

Valgird and Robert looked at each other, and
mutual recognition crossed their faces.

Valgird spoke, “Unless wand-wielders had a
strong numbers advantage, I doubt they would be a match for actual
wizards.”

“This would give us an advantage in an
invasion of the Duxy of Domus, Weard Duxpite, but it still is not
enough to negate all our disadvantages,” Ragnar said.

“Ah, but you must not march on the Duxy of
Domus with these wands,” Katla said. “The Drakes do not know the
difference between a wizard and a wand-wielder. If you march toward
the Fens of Reur with an army large enough to capture Domus Palus,
the Mass will certainly interpret it as an invasion.”

“Then what purpose do you have in giving us
these wands?” Ragnar demanded.

“We will use the gobbels of the Dead Swamps.
They can use the wands as easily as a mundane could. I will
negotiate the deal personally.”

All around the table, eyes fell. Wizards
shifted nervously in their chairs.

After a long pause, Ketil spoke. “The Drakes
and Mar have been at war for as long as Fraemauna has ruled the
sky. To make such an alliance ...”

Katla sniffed. “Perhaps you have forgotten
that it was an army of Drakes who drove the Giens out of
Marrishland.”

“And also razed all of our cities,” Ari
muttered.

Volund waved him to silence. “Go on, Weard
Duxpite.”

“If the gobbels in the Dead Swamps were
armed with wands and — for that price — were convinced to invade
the Duxy of Piljerka, the Mardux would have to deal with it using
his army of wizards. Before he could even get there, Piljerka and
Skrem would have fallen.”

“Then we invade Gunne and Domus,” Ragnar
said, leaning over the table.

“The Mardux would see us gathering wizards
long before, if we hoped to invade at the same time,” Arnora
said.

“Weard Stoltz is right,” Katla said. “But,
Weard Feiglin, you offer to help the Mardux. Then your people are
amassed in the open, until they rival the Mardux’s own. And you
have permission to cross the border. You will be stronger than his
army and, if you plan it right, between him and Domus.”

Murmurs of approval swept around the
table.

“What do you need from us?” Volund
asked.

“I will need two of your reds to accompany
me to the Dead Swamps. I will teach them to enchant wands so they
can equip the gobbels. I will then report our plans to my
master.”

“Ketil and Weard Stoltz will go with you.
Ragnar and Weard Vielfrae, you will lead the invasion. I will go to
Domus Palus when the Mardux calls the Council to address the gobbel
attack.” Volund turned to Robert, Ari and Valgird. “The three of
you will stay here in Flasten Palus to deal with any problems.”

Valgird rose slightly from his chair. “Dux
Feiglin, while I agree this plan is better than the one I
originally recommended, one does not exclude the other.”

Volund waved for him to continue.

Valgird licked his lips. “All I ask is
permission to lead an invasion of the Takraf Protectorates once
Weard Groth begins the real attack. As Weard Stoltz said, even if
there is only a small chance that it will force Weard Takraf to
take steps to defend it, I think it is worth doing.”

“It is not a bad idea, Weard Geir, but I
cannot spare any of my magocrats.”

“I am willing to hire mercenaries from the
Duxy of Wasfal,” Valgird persisted.

Volund compressed his lips into a narrow
line but nodded. “Very well.” He took in the room. “Unless there
are further comments, let us adjourn. Tomorrow, we move.”

* * *

Katla, Arnora and Ketil teleported to the
edge of the Dead Swamps, and after a day of searching and waiting,
they stood negotiating with a gobbel chief who claimed to speak for
the other gobbel chiefs.

The Dead Swamps had once been a duxy in
their own right, until the damnens had claimed them. They looked no
different from any other stink-filled, oozing part of Marrishland.
The trees were perhaps a little thicker, the canopy maybe a little
denser, but the standing water and konig worms were the same. Katla
resisted the urge to run her hand along the soft green moss
covering a giant root of the tree next to her. Who knew what the
moss might do to her?

Katla Duxpite wore a marsord as a disguise.
Few people had ever seen Katla for who she really was. The people
she loved feared and distrusted her, while the ones she hated never
doubted she was their ally. Even now, as she actively pursued his
downfall, Volund had allowed her to plan his war strategy for him.
She had no doubt that when Brack finally introduced her to the
Delegates, the Drakes would misjudge her, too.

Katla recognized that and embraced it, even
though it was sometimes painful. Her patroness had fashioned her
into the perfect instrument of revenge, as suited Katla’s purpose
beautifully.

I did not devote myself to the most loathed
and feared of all Mar goddesses because I hoped to be a miner or
mapmaker. The Bald Goddess is generous when moved by injustice.

In addition to her reign over earth, Drakes
and disease, Dinah was the goddess of vengeance. Hers was not the
polite, civil justice Seruvus oversaw, but the ruthless,
overwhelming revenge of one who has been wronged so badly that no
reparations would ever set things right. The Bald Goddess dealt
most harshly with those who abused their power — the prouder and
stronger the tyrant, the more humiliating and absolute his
demolition.

Katla could appreciate a patroness like that
in a way she could never devote herself to Marrish or Fraemauna.
Nightfire had been uncomfortable with her choice, and she knew many
Mar would consider her a traitor if they knew, which was why she so
seldom swore oaths to her patroness.

If I succeed, wizards like the ones who took
my mother away will pay in blood for their crimes. I will break
their power. I will diminish their numbers. And I will place them
at the mercy of the mundanes. Sven seeks that goal, and I will
ensure he achieves it, even if I must make enemies of every Mar to
do it.

She smiled grimly at the thought but
shuddered slightly as well. She pushed the thought away and
concentrated on the matter at hand.

The needle-toothed gobbels of the Dead
Swamps were driving a hard bargain. Their leader, a tall,
broad-shouldered beast clad in the decomposing hides of alligators,
wore a sheathed marsord at his side. That message was clear: This
gobbel had won a battle against a powerful weard. As she spoke
forcefully to him in his native language, though, Katla knew she
would convince him.