The Two of Swords: Part 6 (3 page)

“I’ll come down,” Senza said.

Oida was in the small courtyard, sitting on a mounting block. He’d taken off the cloak and draped it over his knees, like an old lady with a carriage rug. He was examining a scuff on the side of his boot. He looked up and smiled. “Hello, Senza,” he said.

Senza felt his left hand clench tight; he relaxed it before it was noticed. “Oida,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to entertain the troops,” he said.

Senza managed not to say the first words that sprang to mind. “It was very clever of you to find us,” he said, “seeing as how we didn’t tell anyone we were coming this way till we reached the border.”

“Pure serendipity.” Oida beamed at him. “I just happened to be in the neighbourhood, and someone told me you’d shown up out of the blue. As luck would have it I don’t have to be anywhere special for a day or so; I thought, why not? Do my good deed for the week and see my old friend Senza. Any chance of a drink, by the way? I’m gasping.”

Senza didn’t say anything for four seconds. Then: “Of course,” and he turned and started to walk. He went fast, trying to make Oida break into a trot, but with those great long legs Oida could keep up with him at a stroll. Senza didn’t like tall people. By some cruel quirk of fate, he’d been surrounded by them all his life; he was exactly average height, but he’d always
felt
short, and bitterly resented it. Oida was a head taller than Forza had been. There was simply no excuse for something like that.

Four or five hundred years ago, when the fort had been a monastery, the monks had made a walled herb garden. Somehow it had survived, though now it produced fresh salad for the officers’ mess. There was a small free-standing stone building in the north-eastern corner, where the cellarers had once dried and cured medicinal herbs; it was cool even when the sun was high and still smelt faintly of rosemary and cumin, though these days it was mostly used for storing eggs. There were three carved oak chairs, a cupboard and a massive table scored with knife cuts, and a door you could lock from the inside.

Senza opened the cupboard and took out a brown glass bottle and one horn cup, which he filled three-quarters full. Oida took it and drank about half. Senza pulled a face. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,” he said.

Oida laughed. “Your loss,” he said. “They try and make it in the West,” he said, “but it’s a poor imitation. Someone told me it’s the wrong sort of bees.”

Senza shrugged. “Bees are bees, surely.”

“You’d have thought so, but apparently not.” He reached across the table for the bottle. “They make a passable imitation in Charattis,” he said, “but it’s a sort of browny treacly colour and rather too sweet for my taste. Cheers.”

Senza watched him drink in silence. He’d never seen Oida drunk, never. Alcohol just made him a more intense version of himself: cunning, ambiguous and so very, very annoying. “So,” he said, “what are you going to give them?”

Oida yawned. “Oh, the usual,” he said. “A fine blend of sentiment and smut, with a few big, loud patriotic numbers at the end so they can all have a good roar. I like singing for soldiers, they’re appreciative and easily pleased.”

Senza remembered some of the reasons why he’d never liked Oida. “Who’s the female?” he asked.

Oida pulled a face. “Political officer,” he said.

“Ah. Ours or theirs?”

“Oh, yours. I’m not allowed to blow my nose without her reporting in triplicate to the Secretary General. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear someone in your government doesn’t trust me. Still, that’s what you get for being neutral, I suppose.”

Senza grinned. “I’ve always meant to ask you about that.” He paused to rub his side; getting better, but it still ached all the damn time. “Later, maybe. Very kind of you to make time for us. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, earning money?”

“Yes,” Oida said. “But what the hell.” He drained what was left in his cup, looked at the bottle but didn’t move. “To be honest with you, I’m dying of curiosity. There’s this rumour going round.”

“Oh yes?”

Oida nodded. “They say you’ve killed Forza.”

“Do they now.”

“Indeed.” Oida was looking straight at him, and Senza realised he’d be a hard man to lie to. “Anything to it?”

“You know, I’m not sure.” Senza waited; he didn’t actually know why. “I may have killed him, but I can’t confirm it. Actually, when you showed up, I was hoping it was Imperial couriers with something in the way of hard news.”

“Sorry,” Oida said. “They say it was you and him, hand to hand.”

“Well, wouldn’t that make a lovely story,” Senza replied. “But, yes, there was a bit of a scrap, my guards and his. It’s possible that he may have been killed. I nearly was. Complete balls-up, as a matter of fact, everything got completely out of hand. So, in answer to your question, I really don’t know.”

Oida nodded slowly. “That’s interesting,” he said. “Presumably you’d know if he’s out of action from the way his troops are moving.”

“If I knew where they were, quite probably, yes.”

A truly irritating grin. “I might be able to help you there,” Oida said, and from his pocket he took a map, stiff parchment, folded longwise. He laid it on the table and smoothed it out with the heel of his hand. “Some people I know reckon they saw a large body of men here—” He was pointing at a blank space in the middle of the map. “Not your lot, obviously, not the tribesmen or the Blemyans, because we know where they are. So, logically, it’s got to be Forza’s army. Headed north in a great hurry, my friends said.” He pushed the map across the table. “I don’t know if it’s any use to you, but there it is.”

Senza realised he’d stopped breathing. “These friends of yours.”

“Ah.” Oida looked away. “Strictly neutral,” he said, “just like me. But reliable. Obviously, you can’t take my word for it, but you can send some of your people up that way to have a look, if you want to. Here.” He stretched out his arm, rested his index finger on the map and scored a faint line with his fingernail. “There or thereabouts,” he said. “About five days ago, so you should be able to pick up the trail.”

Senza stared at the map. He could see the faint furrow of Oida’s nail. “It’s terribly kind of you to tell me this,” he said, “but it’s not very—”

“Neutral?” Oida beamed at him.

“Not very, no.”

“Mphm.” Oida leaned back in his chair. “My old mother used to say, there’s a time and a place for everything. Neutrality is wonderful when you don’t know which side is going to win. But if Forza’s dead—”

Senza had picked up the map without knowing it. “He may not be, I just said.”

“Indeed.” Oida massaged the side of his head with the tips of two fingers. “But – I’m no strategist, God knows, it’s a closed book to me, I’m just an entertainer. But if Forza’s alive, what the hell is he doing over there? I don’t actually know the region, but surely the only reason you’d be over that way would be if you were trying to get back home as quickly as possible; and I can’t see why Forza would want to do that.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Quite.”

“These friends of yours,” Senza said.

“I’m a very lucky man. I have all sorts of friends.”

“Talkative ones.”

“Total bloody chatterboxes, some of them.”

“If I knew where Forza’s men are,” Senza said slowly, “you’re right, I could tell a lot from the way they behave. Generally speaking, I can read my brother’s movements like a book. Actually, it’s more like looking in a mirror. Or I could simply throw two squadrons of good fast cavalry at them and see what happens.”

Oida raised a hand. “You’re the soldier,” he said. “I only came here to sing and play the mandolin. Thanks for the drink, by the way. If by some bizarre chance there happened to be a case of this stuff lying around, just gathering dust—”

Senza laughed. “You’re a cheap date.”

“My one redeeming quality,” Oida said, standing up. “Oh, by the way, I nearly forgot. I ran into an old friend of yours the other day. Charming girl, name’s on the tip of my tongue. Asked me, if I happened to bump into you, to give you her love.” He paused, looking Senza straight in the eye. “Name beginning with L.”

No point in trying to play chess. “Lysao.”

“That’s it, yes. She said, if ever you’re in Araf, to look her up.”

“Araf.”

“Small town just south-east of Lath Escatoy. Right,” Oida said, “this is all very nice but I’m sure you’re busy. I was thinking of using the main courtyard, unless we’d be in the way.”

“You go right ahead and do whatever you like,” Senza said.

“I hoped you’d say that,” Oida replied. “After all, nothing’s too good for the men, is it?”

Senza smiled. “Not even you. Your friends.” He was between Oida and the door. “Do you think they could be my friends too?”

Oida stayed exactly where he was. “You know what they say,” he said. “With friends like them—” With a move as yet unknown to the science of fencing, Oida slipped past him to the door and shot the bolt. “I’ll get them to save you a seat near the front,” he said. “Thanks again for the drink.”

Araf wasn’t on any of the maps in Senza’s enormous collection, but after an exhaustive search they found Lath Escatoy. Eventually, after he’d stared at the map for a long time, Senza said, “Well, that’s that, then.”

Colonel Avelro, the new commander of the guards, said quietly, “It’s possible. It could be done.”

Senza sighed. “It’s three hundred and seventy miles behind enemy lines. Also, for all we know, he’s lying through his teeth.”

“Possible, I suppose.”

“No.” Senza closed his eyes and opened them again. Maybe he’d hoped that the two words might have miraculously disappeared from the parchment while he wasn’t looking. “Two hundred and fifty miles, I might just have considered it. Three-seventy is too far.”

“But if Forza—”

Senza looked at him, and he fell silent. Avelro rolled the map up and put it back in its brass tube. Senza poured himself a drink of water. Then he said, “But only eighty miles from the northern border. Now there’s a thought.”

Avelro knew him too well. “It’s a pity we can’t go there,” he said firmly. “But you know what they’re like in those parts. If we tried to take an army through their territory, there’d be hell to pay. It’d be far easier to cut our way through from this side. Far easier.”

Senza laughed. “You should see your face,” he said. “Oh come on, even I’m not that crazy. I’m not suggesting
we
should go there. God, no.”

“Ah.” Avelro looked wonderfully relieved. Then he said, “Someone else?”

Senza nodded. “Friend of a friend, you might say.” He pointed to one of the folding chairs, and sat in the other one. “Changing the subject entirely, what do you make of Citizen Oida?”

Avelro hesitated for a moment. “Wonderful diction,” he said. “I think maybe a bit suspect on the really high notes.”

“Do you trust him?”

“If he told me I had ten fingers, I’d count my fingers.”

Senza pointed to the rosewood box on the table. Avelro opened it, took out a silver flask and two small silver cups. Senza shook his head, and Avelro poured himself a drink. “What do we actually know about him? Well,” he went on, before Avelro could say anything, “he’s the most famous civilian in the two empires, fine. About a million people who’ve never even seen him think he’s wonderful, and, to be strictly fair, he writes a good tune.”

“Agreed.”

Senza took his little silver box from his sleeve, opened it and put one of the tiny ivory counters down on the table. “All right, that’s point one. Point two.” He slid another counter out of the box. “He’s something quite high up in the lodge.”

“Is he?”

“Oh, I reckon so. Must be, don’t you think?”

Avelro pulled a face. “He doesn’t strike me as a very spiritual man, somehow.”

Senza laughed. “Quite. But he makes friends easily, which is quite an achievement for someone so bloody annoying. Lots and lots of friends, and the most unlikely people.” He laid down the second counter. “That’s got to be because of the lodge. Well?”

“I guess,” Avelro said. “Not that I know very much about that stuff.”

“You never joined,” Senza said. “Why’s that?”

Avelro’s face darkened just for a moment. “Against my religion,” he said briskly, and Senza lifted his hand in a brief gesture of apology. “Sorry,” he said, “I forgot.”

“That’s all right. Actually, it’s good; it says a lot about the service. I mean, where else in the empire would you be able to forget something like that?”

Senza nodded. “Though I wouldn’t count on it lasting,” he said. “With this business in Blemya, I have an idea that sun-worshippers are going to be in for a hard time. Not in my army,” he added quickly, “but you take my point, I’m sure.”

“Noted.”

“Very good. Now, where were we? Oh yes.” He took out a third counter. “He’s neutral.”

“Is he now?”

“Told me so himself.” Senza laid down the third counter. “So neutral, he gives me the location of Forza’s army, free, gratis and for nothing.”

“We haven’t confirmed—”

Senza waved a hand. “It’ll check out, you’ll see. Actually, a part of me’s hoping it won’t, but it will. So, what’s all that about?”

Avelro stirred uncomfortably. “Maybe he knows something we don’t,” he said.

“Confirmation that Forza’s dead? Possible. I’m assuming that was the impression he was trying to give. Well, impression, he actually said as much in so many words; if Forza’s dead, he wants to make friends with the winning side as soon as possible.”

“Or he wants us to go racing off into the blue and get ambushed.”

“Or that, yes. If Forza’s alive, obviously he’d like to make me believe he’s dead, so I’ll go rushing off to wipe out what’s left of his army and walk into a nice trap.”

“And Oida—”

“Would be best friends with the winning side, quite.” Senza picked up a counter and looked at it; slight chip on one edge. “On the third, no, make that the
fourth
hand, if Forza were to set such an obvious trap, I’d be delighted to play ball, on the grounds that I can predict what form Forza’s traps will take with ninety-nine per cent accuracy. Put it another way, I think Oida’s far too smart to put himself in the middle between me and my dear brother when we’re having a row. Hence my previous statement, it’ll check out.”