line—the great-grandson of Rael’s third great-grandson. Rael liked the lad. “What have we discovered about Judon’s plans?” he asked.
“The tribal leaders have been called to a gathering to discuss territorial matters,” said Cation. “The Mud People refuse to attend, but all others have accepted. It is to be held in five days at Ren-el-gan, which the tribes believe was once the Well of Life. It has always been a meeting place and is considered holy ground.”
“What reason did the Erek-jhip-zhonad give for their refusal to attend?”
“The king told them the date was inauspicious, as it coincided with a religious festival.”
Rael smiled. “He wasn’t asked to joint-lead the Gathering?”
“No, sir. Judon of the Patiakes is acting alone.”
“What do we know of Judon?” asked Rael. He already knew the answer, but wished to see how much study the younger man had given to the current crisis.
“He has been Lord of the Patiakes for seventeen years, taking the mantle following the death of his father. He has more than twelve thousand warriors from a tribe numbering almost forty thousand. They are nomadic by nature, and exist in sub-clans. These number almost three hundred.”
“The man, Cation. Tell me about the man.”
“He is a harsh ruler, and claims to be descended from the prophet who discovered the Well of Life.” Cation fell silent for a moment. “I am sorry, sir. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“You could tell me that he is fat and weighs more than any three men in your section, which implies he is a greedy man. You could add that he has forty wives and more than fifty concubines, which suggests he lusts after more than he can sustain. This prophet you speak of promised that the tribes would one day own the world. He predicted the coming of a warlord from his line. Judon, in claiming to be his descendant, is trying on the mantle of that warlord. These things alone would suggest he has great ambitions. This Gathering has not been called to discuss minor territorial disagreement between the tribes. It is to declare Judon as the warlord, and will mean an army of close to fifty thousand will attack the five cities before the autumn.”
“We will not be able to stop them, sir,” said Cation.
“Not once they march,” agreed the General. “Now, what progress has been made in tracking down those responsible for the killing of Questor Baliel?”
“We are still gathering information, sir. But there has been much talk in Egaru concerning a group calling themselves Pajists, which in the old Vagar tongue means—”
“I know what it means. Assassins.”
“Indeed, sir. We have many informers, and they have all been instructed to gather information about the group. However, though there is much talk, there is little evidence so far.”
“I have read the reports,” said Rael. “Two of your best informers have died recently. Is that not so?”
“Yes, sir. What is your point? Both were accidents. Several witnesses saw the first leaving a tavern drunk. He fell from the wharf and drowned. The second was a blacksmith. He was kicked in the head by a horse. Witnesses observed the accident.”
“Bring in the witnesses and question them under duress,” ordered Rael.
“For what purpose, sir?”
“Cation, you are a blood relative, and I love you dearly. But you do not
think
. The drunk would have had to walk two miles to the docks in order to fall into the sea. His home was in the opposite direction. Even assuming he had staggered for two miles do you not think he would have sobered sufficiently to avoid such a fall? And what was he doing at the docks at midnight? The gates are locked. Are you suggesting the drunken man walked two miles out of his way, then climbed a gate, with the express purpose of hurling himself into the sea? As to the blacksmith, the back of his skull was caved in. How many blacksmiths do you know who would approach a horse backwards?”
“I see, sir. I am
“The tribal leaders have been called to a gathering to discuss territorial matters,” said Cation. “The Mud People refuse to attend, but all others have accepted. It is to be held in five days at Ren-el-gan, which the tribes believe was once the Well of Life. It has always been a meeting place and is considered holy ground.”
“What reason did the Erek-jhip-zhonad give for their refusal to attend?”
“The king told them the date was inauspicious, as it coincided with a religious festival.”
Rael smiled. “He wasn’t asked to joint-lead the Gathering?”
“No, sir. Judon of the Patiakes is acting alone.”
“What do we know of Judon?” asked Rael. He already knew the answer, but wished to see how much study the younger man had given to the current crisis.
“He has been Lord of the Patiakes for seventeen years, taking the mantle following the death of his father. He has more than twelve thousand warriors from a tribe numbering almost forty thousand. They are nomadic by nature, and exist in sub-clans. These number almost three hundred.”
“The man, Cation. Tell me about the man.”
“He is a harsh ruler, and claims to be descended from the prophet who discovered the Well of Life.” Cation fell silent for a moment. “I am sorry, sir. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“You could tell me that he is fat and weighs more than any three men in your section, which implies he is a greedy man. You could add that he has forty wives and more than fifty concubines, which suggests he lusts after more than he can sustain. This prophet you speak of promised that the tribes would one day own the world. He predicted the coming of a warlord from his line. Judon, in claiming to be his descendant, is trying on the mantle of that warlord. These things alone would suggest he has great ambitions. This Gathering has not been called to discuss minor territorial disagreement between the tribes. It is to declare Judon as the warlord, and will mean an army of close to fifty thousand will attack the five cities before the autumn.”
“We will not be able to stop them, sir,” said Cation.
“Not once they march,” agreed the General. “Now, what progress has been made in tracking down those responsible for the killing of Questor Baliel?”
“We are still gathering information, sir. But there has been much talk in Egaru concerning a group calling themselves Pajists, which in the old Vagar tongue means—”
“I know what it means. Assassins.”
“Indeed, sir. We have many informers, and they have all been instructed to gather information about the group. However, though there is much talk, there is little evidence so far.”
“I have read the reports,” said Rael. “Two of your best informers have died recently. Is that not so?”
“Yes, sir. What is your point? Both were accidents. Several witnesses saw the first leaving a tavern drunk. He fell from the wharf and drowned. The second was a blacksmith. He was kicked in the head by a horse. Witnesses observed the accident.”
“Bring in the witnesses and question them under duress,” ordered Rael.
“For what purpose, sir?”
“Cation, you are a blood relative, and I love you dearly. But you do not
think
. The drunk would have had to walk two miles to the docks in order to fall into the sea. His home was in the opposite direction. Even assuming he had staggered for two miles do you not think he would have sobered sufficiently to avoid such a fall? And what was he doing at the docks at midnight? The gates are locked. Are you suggesting the drunken man walked two miles out of his way, then climbed a gate, with the express purpose of hurling himself into the sea? As to the blacksmith, the back of his skull was caved in. How many blacksmiths do you know who would approach a horse backwards?”
“I see, sir. I am
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