because the people it’s directed at all died out thousands of years ago.
What finally happened to them, learned one?’ he asked Zalasta. ‘You said
that they were extinct.’
‘Actually, Milord Stragen, they bred themselves out of existence.’
‘isn’t that a contradiction?’ Tynian asked him. ‘Not really. The Cynesgans
had been very nearly wiped out, but now they were of vital importance,
since they were the only troops at Cyrgon’s disposal who could cross the
frontiers. He directed the Cyrgai to concentrate on breeding up new armies
of these formerly despised underlings. The Cyrgai were perfect soldiers who
always obeyed orders to the letter. They devoted their attention to the
Cynesgan women even to the exclusion of their own. By the time they
realised their mistake, all the Cyrgai women were past child-bearing age.
Legend had it that the last of the Cyrgai died about ten thousand years
ago.’
‘That raises idiocy to an art-form, doesn’t it?’ Stragen observed. Zalasta
smiled a thin sort of smile. ‘At any rate, what used to be Cyrga is now
Cynesga. It’s occupied by a defective, mongrel race that manages to survive
only because it sits astride the ‘major trade routes between the Tamuls of
the east and the Elenes of the west. The rest of the world looks upon these
heirs of the invincible Cyrgai with the deepest contempt. They’re sneaky,
cowardly, thieving and disgustingly servile – a fitting fate for the
offspring of a race that once thought it was divinely destined to rule the
world.’
‘History’s such a gloomy subject,’ Kalten sighed. ‘Cynesga’s not the only
place where the past is returning to haunt us,’ Zalasta added. ‘We’ve
noticed,’ Tynian replied. ‘The Elenes in western Astel are all convinced
that Ayachin’s returned. ‘ Then you’ve heard of the one they call Sabre?’
Zalasta asked. ‘We ran across him a couple of times,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I
don’t think he poses much of a threat. He’s an adolescent poseur.’
‘He satisfies the needs of the western Astels, though,’ Tynian added.
‘They’re not exactly what you’d call deep.’
‘I’ve encountered them,’ Zalasta said wryly. ‘Kimear of Daconia and Baron
Parok, his spokesman, are a bit more serious, though. Kimear was one of
those men on horseback who emerge from time to time in Elene societies. He
subdued the other two Elene Kingdoms in western Astel and founded one of
those empires of a thousand years that spring up from time to time and
promptly fall apart when the founder dies. The hero in Edam is Incetes’ – a
bronze-age fellow who actually managed to hand to Cyrgai their first
defeat. The one who does his talking for him calls himself Rebel. That’s
not his real name, of course. Political agitators usually go by assumed
names. Ayachin, Kimear and Incetes appeal to the very simplest of Elene
emotional responses – muscularity, Primarily. I wouldn’t offend you for the
world, my friends, but you Elenes seem to like to break things and burn
down other people’s houses. ‘It’s a racial flaw,’ Ulath conceded. ‘The
Arjuni present us with slightly different problems,’ Zalasta continued.
‘They’re members of the Tamul race, and their deep-seated urges are a bit
more sophisticated. Tamuls don’t want to rule the world, they just want to
own it.’ He smiled briefly at Oscagne. ‘The Arjuni aren’t very attractive
as representatives of the race, though. Their hero is the fellow who
invented the slave-trade. ‘ Mirtai’s breath hissed sharply, and her hand
went to her dagger. ‘is there some problem, Atana?’ Oscagne asked her
mildly. ‘I’ve had experience with the slave-traders of Arjuna, Oscagne,’
she replied shortly. ‘Someday I hope to have more, and I won’t be a child
this time.’ Sparhawk realised that Mirtai had never told them the story of
how she had become a slave. ‘This Arjuni hero’s of a somewhat more recent
vintage than the others,’ Zalasta continued. ‘He was of the twelfth
century. His name was SheSian.’
‘We’ve heard of him,’ Engessa said bleakly. ‘His slavers used to raid the
training camps of Atan children. We’ve more or less persuaded the Arjuni
not to do that any more. ‘
‘That sounds ominous,’ Baroness Melidere said. ‘It was an absolute
disaster, Baroness,’ Oscagne told her. ‘Some Arjuni slavers made a raid
into Atan in the seventeenth century, and an imperial administrator got
carried away by an excess of righteous indignation. He authorised the Atans
to mount a punitive expedition into Arjuna.’
‘Our people still sing songs about it,’ Engessa said in an almost dreamy
fashion. ‘Bad?’ Emban asked Oscagne. ‘Unbelievable,’ Oscagne replied. ‘The
silly ass who authorised the expedition didn’t realise that when you
command the Atans to do something, you have to specifically prohibit
certain measures. The fool simply turned them loose. They actually hanged
the King of Arjuna himself and then chased all his subjects into the
southern jungles. It took us nearly two hundred years to coax the Arjuni
down out of the trees. The economic upheaval was a disaster for the entire
continent.’
‘These events are somewhat more recent,’ Zalasta noted. ‘The Arjuni have
always been slavers, and Skeguan was only one of several operating in
northern Arjuna. He was an organiser more than anything. He established the
markets in Cynesga and codified the bribes that protect the slave-routes.
The peculiar thing we face in Arjuna is that the spokesman’s more important
than the hero. His name is Scarpa, and he’s a brilliant and dangerous man.’
‘What about Tamul itself?’ Emban asked, ‘and Atan?’
‘We both seem to be immune to the disease, your Grace,’ Oscagne replied.
‘It’s probably because Tamuls are too egotistical for hero worship and
because the Atans of antiquity were all so much shorter than their
descendants that modern Atans overlook them.’ He smiled rather slyly at
Engessa. ‘The rest of the world’s breathlessly awaiting the day when the
first Atan tops ten feet. I think that’s the ultimate goal of their
selective breeding campaign.’ He looked at Zalasta. ‘Your information’s far
more explicit than ours, learned one,’ he complimented the Styric. ‘The
best efforts of the empire have unearthed only the sketchiest of details
about these people.’
‘I have different resources at my disposal, Excellency,’ Zalasta replied.
‘These Figures from antiquity, however, would hardly be of any real
concern. The Atans could quite easily deal with any purely military
insurrection, but this isn’t a totally military situation. Someone’s been
winnowing through the darker aspects of human imagination and spinning the
horrors of folk-lore out of thin air. There are vampires and werewolves,
ghouls, Ogres and once even a thirty-foot giant. The officials shrug these
sightings off as superstitious nonsense, but the common people of Tamuli
are in a state of abject terror. We can’t be certain of the reality of any
of these things, but when you mingle monsters with Trolls, Dawn-men and
Cyrgai, you have total demoralisation. Then, to push the whole thing over
the edge, the Forces of nature have been harnessed as well. There have been
titanic thunderstorms, tornadoes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and even
isolated eclipses. The common people of Tamuli have become so fearful that
they flee from rabbits and flocks of sparrows. There’s no real focus to
these incidents. They simply occur at random, and since there’s no real
plan behind them, there’s no way to predict when and where they’ll occur.
That’s what we’re up against my friends – a continent-wide campaign of
terror – part reality, Part illusion, part genuine magic. If it isn’t
countered – and very, very soon the people will go mad with fear. The
empire will collapse, and the terror will reign supreme.’
‘And what was the bad news you had for us, Zalasta?’ Vanion asked him.
Zalasta smiled briefly. ‘You are droll, Lord Vanion,’ he said. ‘You may be
able to gather more information this afternoon, my friends,’ he told them
all. ‘You’ve been invited to attend the session of the Thousand. Your visit
here is quite significant from a political point of view, and – although
the council seldom agrees about anything – there’s a strong undercurrent of
opinion that we may have a common cause with you in this matter.’ He
paused, then sighed. ‘I think you should be prepared for a certain amount
of antagonism,’ he cautioned. ‘There’s a reactionary faction in the council
that begins to foam at the mouth whenever someone even mentions the word
‘Elene’. I’m sure they’ll try to provoke you.’
‘Something’s happening that I don’t understand, Sparhawk,’ Danae murmured
quietly a bit later. Sparhawk had retired to one corner of Sephrenia’s
little garden with one of Vanion’s Styric scrolls and had been trying to
puzzle out the Styric alphabet. Danae had found him there and had climbed
up into his lap. ‘I thought you were all-wise,’ he said. ‘isn’t that
supposed to be one of your characteristics?’
‘Stop that. Something’s terribly wrong here.’
‘Why don’t you talk with Zalasta about it? He’s one of your worshipers,
isn’t he?’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’