Conflict (27 page)

“Even though it meant losing your own life?”

“That’s right. I’d give my life for you. You’ve seen it, you know it,” he replied with such frank honesty that Kayti blushed.

“Why?” she asked in a lower whisper, coming up to the big Norriel.

“Not sure. It’s what I feel. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, never. I’ll always protect you.”

Kayti laid her hands on the giant’s broad chest, looked into his eyes and asked in a murmur:

“Do you trust me?”

Hartz could feel her warm young body against his, her soft breasts against his torso. He swallowed with difficulty and said:

“That’s a hard question to answer. My mind tells me not to, but my heart says I should.”

“Which of the two would you follow?”

“Both,” he replied.

The tension grew between them, heightened by the warmth of their bodies, the scent of their skin and the soft tone of her voice.

“Why do you ask? What do you want from me, Kayti?” Hartz was now confused.

“I want to know what your feelings are for me,” she said.

Hartz looked into her eyes.

“I want you. I want to be with you. From the very first time we met in that clearing.”

Kayti put her arms around him and kissed him with a passion fed by all the accumulated tension of a long wait. At the touch of those delicate lips Hartz utterly lost all sense of reality. He sank into a dream, and the material world around him disappeared. Only he and Kayti dwelled in that pleasant dream, nothing else existed. The soft scent of her skin filled the big Norriel’s senses. He felt a passion that almost hurt.

He brought her closer still, holding her within his arms, and kissed her back with the intensity of a cyclone. Kayti sighed with delight.

“Will you stay the night?” she asked him. Love sparkling in her eyes.

“This night is all yours.”

Hartz lifted her in his strong arms as if she were a feather and carried her gently to the bed. There he took her with the vigor of a demigod, while she moaned with pleasure.

The eternal murmur of the flowing river and the singing of the crickets were the only sounds to be heard on that clear night. The moon shone high and elegant and the infinite sky showed a scattering of shining stars. Sumal gazed at the beauty of the prairies in awe. The air was warm and the lazy Autumn was still far from touching those rolling lands.

The mission he had in hand was both very dangerous and terribly important. This meeting in the middle of the steppes would unleash events of great significance for all Tremia, although there was also the distinct possibility that he might die there that same night. That was the risk in the ever-dangerous world of spying, still more if you were a spy of the Nocean Empire where the risks, in general, were extreme.

Without risk there’s no reward really worth the effort, no victory sweet enough
.

Yet that night he was filled with worry. He was about to break the first sacred rule of the spying profession, the one all knew and followed without reservation:

Never show yourself to the enemy.

Always remain in the shadows.

And that upset him beyond measure.

It had been the only way to guarantee that the mission would prosper, and that mission had to go forward whatever the cost, even that of his own life. That was what his master Zecly, that powerful Sorcerer and master of spies, had told him. When the First Counselor of Mulko, Regent of the Northern Nocean Empire, gave an order, you could only obey or else die a horrendous death. He had to fulfill his purpose that night, it was vitally important.

The contacts and exchanges of information with the agents of the interested party had been extremely difficult and laborious. Caution bordering on paranoia and total secrecy had surrounded them from the beginning. But at last, after hard work, there had been progress, and that night the deal would be made.

A deal which would change the destiny of a continent.

Or on the other hand, if things went wrong, it would be the end for him.

Sumal took his mount to the river, and the magnificent courser drank water to cool himself down. Behind him, five of his most lethal agents rode in silence. The Motuli, those sinister sons of the desert, were protecting him. A hiss reached his ears, frightening the horse. The animal reared and neighed in fear. Sumal held on to the saddle as best he could so as not to fall on his back, and before he could think what was happening, two arrows and a silver knife struck right at the horse’s feet. At last, with difficulty, he managed to quiet the noble beast. He looked down at the ground.

“Rat snake of the prairies,” one of the Motuli behind him explained nonchalantly, holding his bow at the ready.

Sumal could barely make out anything in the dark night, still less the dead snake beside his mount. How those men had seen it and skewered it was remarkable. But Sumal knew that those men were not merely warriors. They belonged to a sect of lethal assassins from the deepest South: masters of the dagger, sword and short bow. They lived for and by death. They were dressed in the style of the desert, with head and mouth covered by a black scarf, long blue tunic, and over it, black leather breastplates reinforced with darkened metal, baggy black pants, armbands of reinforced leather and riding boots of the same material.

Those expert fighters with their brown skin and eyes black as a moonless night had an agility and a set of reflexes bordering on the inhuman. The sect they belonged to was led by a shadowy and highly intelligent individual from the South of the Empire. Sumal had seen them in action, and they were utterly lethal. All had an enormous scorpion tattooed on their forearm which identified them as belonging to the Motuli sect. For a considerable sum of money he had secured their services. For two years they would serve him faithfully, then at the end of the prescribed time, if they survived, the five would return to the leader of the mysterious sect. They cost a small fortune, but they were worth every gold coin of it.

He usually employed them as assassins and they had never failed him, but that night he needed them as a bodyguard. The meeting would be very dangerous and it was reasonable to foresee some bloodshed. Sumal, for his part, was an excellent swordsman, trained from childhood in the art of the sword, and few could defeat him in combat. But he had better remove these ominous thoughts from his mind and concentrate on his mission. His goal was to reach an agreement. Not to shed blood.

The noise of hooves galloping over the steppe brought him to sudden alertness.

He looked to the right, and the nearest Motuli signaled with a gesture that the retinue was coming.

A dozen riders approached at a gallop until they were opposite them, on the far side of the river. They stopped there without crossing.

There was silence. Both groups studied each other tensely.

Sumal quickly realized that the dozen Norghanians were undoubtedly an elite force. They were all more than six feet tall, and strongly built. They wore winged helmets, long scaled armor and round wooden shields reinforced with metal, and carried short two-faced war-axes. With their long blond hair and thick beards they gave the impression of being northern giants, something out of folklore itself. For a moment it seemed to Sumal that some Norghanian troubadour had summoned them out of an ancient lay.

The sight made him nervous. Yet the five Motuli returned the gaze of the enemy with the confidence of those who know themselves to be victorious.
Let’s hope there’s no need for us to find out who’d come out the winner in this night-time encounter in the midst of the steppes if steel should be unsheathed. Those enormous white bears of the snow look pretty ominous.

A rider came up to the river’s edge from the rearguard of the group.

He wore the same attire as the others, but something in his posture, in the way he rode, told Sumal this was no ordinary soldier. This rider was a nobleman.

“Good evening, traveler,” the rider said in greeting. The voice from under the helmet was powerful.

“Good evening to you,” Sumal replied. He used the Common Language of the North with perfect pronunciation, so that it was impossible to guess his Nocean origin.

“What’s a man of the North doing accompanied by five desert dogs?”

“Oh, you mean because of my white skin and blond hair?” replied Sumal. “My traveling companions don’t mind. They know that my blood is of the land of the eternal sun and the great deserts, the same as theirs, even though you can’t tell by my skin.”

“True, they say appearances can be deceptive. Nobody would think you’re from as far away as that, judging by your features and your clothing.”

“The same way that nobody would think you’re a Norghanian nobleman and not just a simple infantry soldier, regardless of the fact that you’re dressed like one.”

“An interesting observation.”

“And accurate.”

Sumal watched the other carefully. He had to make sure this man was the right one. Under the winged helmet, at night, lit only by the faint light of the moon and stars, he could not guarantee that this was the man he was expecting.

“Perhaps we should take our masks off. After all, there’s nobody else here in all this expanse of steppes but us,” suggested Sumal.

“That’s true, unless we come across some Masig.”

“As a gesture of good will, let me introduce myself: in my country I’m known by the name of Sumal, and I’m a humble servant of the Nocean Empire.”

“Slippery rather than humble, I’d say.”

“A very necessary quality in the business I earn my living by.”

“True. The profession of spy requires many skills, well-mastered, in order to lengthen one’s life-expectancy…”

“I’ve managed pretty well until now.”

“Let’s hope you may continue to enjoy a long and healthy life,” the Norghanian said ironically.

“And you are…?” asked Sumal.

“Let’s say I’m a Norghanian patriot who wishes to see his kingdom regain the greatness of yore. To take on the role it deserves in Tremia as the economic and military power it is.”

“Very well, I see you prefer to remain anonymous,” said Sumal. “As you wish.”

“If you don’t mind, I prefer it this way. You never know what ears the wind can carry words to.”

“Wise call.”

“Good. So let’s deal with the business that’s brought us here tonight. Your agent, the Dark Assassin, has been captured, and that puts me in a very delicate position…”

“Yes, the news of the capture of such a magnificent agent has been a total surprise, a very unpleasant surprise,” Sumal said, shaking his head.

“I must admit the stroke was unusually daring. Success was unthinkable.”

“Yes, a masterpiece of Nocean audacity: to kill Grand Duke Orten in his impenetrable fortress, surrounded by all his army. A remarkable show of reach and power, if I may dare to say so…”

“Exactly, and that’s why we’re here tonight. Otherwise I’d have never accepted this little reunion.”

“What course do you recommend we follow regarding my captured agent?” asked Sumal, a little uneasily.

“He represents a risk. He might talk, in fact in the end he will. They all do. Whatever he’s got to tell will be dangerous, or at least not helpful as far as my plans are concerned.”

“You shouldn’t worry, he knows nothing of the reasons behind the murder or whose hand it is that pulls the strings. There’s no trail that can be traced back to me.”

“A surprising statement, seeing he’s an agent in your service,” the Norghanian said skeptically.

“Well, you see, noble sir, he really is no agent in my service. He was hired through an intermediary. Therefore he can’t be linked with the Nocean Empire. It’s all been very well planned and arranged.”

“That may be so, but through the Assassin the connection might be made to the intermediary, and from him to the spy who hired him.”

“I understand your line of thought,” Sumal said. “It’s a logical assumption, except for the fact that the intermediary doesn’t know either this humble spy or who he is leagued with.” He smiled broadly, showing perfect ivory teeth.

“I see… Your skill in the subtle art of intrigue is enviable, just as I’d been told.”

“Thank you, noble sir, it’s very good of you to say so.”

“Whatever the case, the Assassin represents a threat, and it must be dealt with. He might talk and deflect the guilt from Rogdon, and that’s not good for either of us.”

“That’s right. The goal of that daring act was to provoke the war with Rogdon. It wouldn’t do to have anything get in the way of this.”

“Well, then, we’re agreed. The Assassin must die.”

“I don’t see anything against it,” said Sumal. “As he’s a prisoner in your camp, surrounded by thousands of Norghanians, I assume you’ll take care of this
inconvenience
.”

“You assume correctly, spy,”

“Then we agree,” said Sumal.

An untimely owl flew over the river between the two groups, and several men reached for their weapons. Their nerves were on edge.

“Steady!” the Norghanian ordered his men.

Sumal raised his fist, to calm his own.

A tense quiet reigned once again over both groups of armed men.

“Very well, Nocean, let’s move on to the critical point in this little clandestine meeting.”

Sumal grinned. “I’d be happy to.”

“Our interests run in parallel,” said the Norghanian, “so the most logical thing would be to join forces to reach the final goal.”

“That being… the destruction of Rogdon.”

“Exactly, and to be more precise: the destruction and appropriation of their vast kingdom.”

“The division of the kingdom will be a matter for long and complicated discussion,” Sumal pointed out.

“A discussion which we won’t get into now. We must decide on the next steps to take and commit our separate interests.”

“We’re agreed on that.”

“Right. Can you guarantee that the Nocean Empire will support me in a war with Rogdon if Norghana invades Rogdon?”

“
Guarantee
is a term not often used in my kind of business, but I can assure you that the Empire would look upon a war between Rogdon and Norghana very favorably.”

“Would it support Norghana?”

“In the present situation, with the Rogdonians accusing the Empire of the attack on their prince, it’s more than likely that the Empire would support Norghana.”

“Would it be willing to do more? Would it invade from the South?” the nobleman wanted to be assured.

“Given such a chance, it’s highly likely that the Empire would invade the blue and silver kingdom.”

“You really are an out-and-out spy. You haven’t assured me of anything, you haven’t committed yourself to anything.”

“I can only assure you that the scenarios you’ve mentioned are the most logical, and therefore what you’re asking me is the most likely result.”

“I need more than that to commit myself, spy. I won’t risk my neck without firm backing from the Nocean Empire.”