Varna Ch. 16

They were being fed. A small bit of it came from their own resources. The rest came from us. In return for that charity, the mercenaries relinquished Whydah to us. I let Bathene Esin, Benaz Corig and Hurmas lead their troops into the city first. Captain Albo was with them. Kurebir was there, in person, to surrender himself and his wounded men.

Durgat and his folk missed the celebration, as I had them re-cross the river, to support Dergun and Peneda - just in case.

Two ships arrived from Galtin's Port, only a week later, carrying food for the mercenaries. I'm not entirely sure how they paid for their passage (with their equipment?), but the mercenaries convinced the captains to take on nearly three hundred passengers for the return voyage.

Were Gedere and Yavantay among them? Short of disarming all of the mercenaries, and examining every man, I had no way to find Yavantay. Glasha could locate Gedere, but if she couldn't recognize his hiding place, we were no further ahead.

More ships arrived from Galtin's Port over the following weeks. I insisted that they take some of the sick and wounded men, but these captains were in no way beholden to me. When they simply refused, there wasn't much that we could do about it.

This situation, though, had repercussions - which I will tell you about later.

I saw my sister every day, and Glasha and I were able to re-connect, both physically and in terms of time spent together. But the pair were working against me, and finally launched their prepared ambush.

- "I think we should talk." said my sister. Glasha was already present.

- "What about?"

- "About how cold you've become." said Sanatha. "Our friends have begun to notice."

- "Cold? What are you talking about?"

- "Come on, Tauma. You don't have to be the hard man every day."

Glasha sat down next to me.

- "My love, did you congratulate Dergun and Peneda for holding off Moksha at Calep?"

I hadn't. But I had to search my memory to remember that I hadn't.

"When was the last time you wrote to Saska?" asked Glasha.

- "After Mehana." No - that was wrong. I'd asked Glasha to write to my wife, to tell her that we'd won. That was ... a month ago.

- "Before we crossed the river," Sanatha said, "you told me how much you were looking forward to working with Tir Tanle again."

- "I - " This time my memory didn't fail me; I had said exactly that. But in the past weeks, I couldn't remember spending any time with her.

- "Yesterday you walked past Hurmas without even seeing him." continued Sanatha. "He was hoping to speak to you, but you never even made eye contact."

- "Alright, San. I get the point."

- "Two days ago, I had to ask you the same question three times. It was as if you weren't even there. That's not the first time you've done that, either. It's become an every other day occurrence."

- "Alright, San!"

- "We've won the war, Tauma, but you're losing touch with -"

- "ENOUGH!" I couldn't listen to any more of it. She wouldn't stop attacking me. I fled.

I stormed out of the room, and left the building. Murzosh and Osha trailed behind me, keeping me in sight, but they were much too wary to come too close. Had I frightened them, as well?

I stood on the sea wall ramparts, looking out over the harbour. The wind was high, and the white-capped waves crashed on the rocks below. A storm was coming.

I've no idea how long I stood there. I was angry at what Sanatha had said. Not angry at her, so much. Should my anger be directed at myself?

Then I noticed Glasha standing beside me. She had a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but her unbound hair was streaming in the wind. Instinctively, I shifted so as to block the wind.

She smiled shyly at that, and leaned forward to rest her head against my shoulder. My arms curled around her, almost of their own volition.

It was a protective gesture. That was what I was supposed to be doing: protecting my lover and my sister - not getting angry at them for telling me the truth, as they saw it.

- "Is it so bad, Glasha?" I asked her. "Am I really so changed? Am I ... becoming a monster?"

The love of my life looked up, into my eyes.

- "Not yet." she said.

Those soft words sent a pang of fear through my heart. I wasn't angry; I was terrified. I'd never considered the possibility of losing Glasha.

- "Tell me."

- "Are you sure that you want to hear it?"

- "I'm listening."

- "You've spent too long on the cliff, my love. The aether is your constant companion. It's too much magic. Too often. My father tried to warn you: the fey use magic sparingly, because they believe that it can become dangerous."

I hadn't made a major magical effort since I'd killed Beksha with an aether arrow at Mehana. But ... Glasha wasn't wrong. I gathered the aether every day - several times a day. I used it to sharpen my wits, before an important discussion, such as negotiating with Kurebir. I called on the aether to remain alert. Sometimes, I summoned the aether to prolong the day, to continue thinking even when I was growing tired.

- "Thank you." I said. "For telling me."

Glasha's arms slid around my waist, and she squeezed me tight.

***

The next morning, I bid Murzosh and Osha good day. Both of them were startled; apparently, I hadn't greeted either of them for weeks. That shocked me.

- "Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

- "You're our Lord." said Osha.

- "You're ... the Varyan." said Murzosh.

- "But ... Lord or Varyan ... I shouldn't be an asshole. Look - in addition to your regular duties, you two have to let me know the moment that I start acting that way again."

I apologized to Sanatha, and then sought out Hurmas.

- "There's no need to apologize, Lord." he said.

- ""There's every need." I said. "And since when do you call me 'Lord' when we're alone? I need your help, my friend. I have to slow down ... or stop using magic - except in a crisis."

The very next day, I had to fight against overwhelming temptation. Captain Albo stood beside me on the sea wall, watching two new ships from Galtin's Port glide into harbour, and then make for the mercenary camp on the eastern shore.

- "That one." said Albo. "The Pelican."

- "You're certain?"

- "Absolutely. Yavantay will go aboard the Pelican, disguised as a soldier."

Yavantay had taken my brother Aludar's money, in order to hire mercenaries. But he'd used those men to stab my brother in the back. He rewarded his mercenaries by letting them sack the town - and in the process, settled old scores with his personal enemies. Then, when our forces re-captured Whydah, Yavantay had fled to Galtin's Port, where he helped Beksha to gather more mercenaries. No one had done more to organize the invasion of Varna. The man deserved to die.

I had intended to kill him, with an aether arrow. If I couldn't pick him out, between the passengers and crew, I could always sink the entire ship with an aether spear between the waterline.

I did neither. There were other ways of dealing with Yavantay.

***

I stayed in Whydah until the last of the mercenaries were rowed out to board the pair of ships that had come to collect them. After this, I could go home, to Elmina, to see my wife. I'd been very good about not using magic for the past ten days. My temper was better, and people no longer seemed to be afraid of me.

The very last ship, the Justice out of Galtin's Port, couldn't resist making a final statement. As they came about in the harbour, the captain fired three guns at the Whydah docks.

It was a last gesture of defiance - of petulance, really - and it instantly snapped the patience and restraint I'd been building.

I gathered in a huge draught of aether. I knew that it was wrong - and potentially dangerous. I drew in even more. There were no more warnings going off inside my head. The war could not end this way. The last word would be mine.

I summoned so much aether that I thought I might burst, and shaped it all into a mighty spear - a harpoon of pure light - which I launched it at the Justice. The range was almost 400 yards, but I put all of my anger, all of my rage into it.

Then lightning seemed to explode between my ears.

***

I woke up, and slowly opened my eyes - and then immediately shut them. The light! It was too bright for me. It was like staring directly at the sun, only more painful.

- "His eyes moved! Did you see that?" said a voice. Saska's voice. "Are you awake, Tauma? Can you hear me?"

- "Saska." I croaked. My throat was too dry. I tried to lift my hand, to reach for her. I could feel my fingers move, at least.

Then I felt her hand take mine. I could sense her body close to mine, and then I felt her soft lips gently press against my cheek.

- "Glasha's here, too." she said. "We're both here."

- "Wh- where?"

- "You're safe, in Elmina." said Glasha. "Do you need water?"

I tried to nod - which turned out to be a terrible mistake. The shooting pain in my head was awful. I tried to remain absolutely still so as not to experience that again.

Saska slid her free arm under my neck, preparing to help me into a more upright position. I shook my hand - the one she was holding - until she realized that I didn't want to move my head or neck.

- "Try this." said Glasha. She held a tiny cup of water next to my face, and tipped a small amount of water onto my lips. I opened my mouth, and let it trickle in. She supplied a little more, in small increments.

- "Can you open your eyes?' asked Saska.

- "Too bright." I mumbled.

Neither of them answered, for a moment. I found out later that Glasha and Saska were unsure what to tell me; it was the middle of the night, and there were only two lit candles in the room.

I tried again, very slowly, and very carefully. It didn't matter - the piercing, painful light was in my head.

***

I woke again, still disoriented. I remembered, though, where I was, and who had been with me. That was mildly comforting. I was frightened, though. I also remembered what had happened when I tried to open my eyes.

On the positive side, my mind seemed to be working more or less normally. I hadn't gone mad. Yet.

- "Are you awake, love?" asked Glasha.

- "Yes. 'Fraid to open my eyes, though."

- "That will come."

- "What happened, Glasha?" I asked. "In Whydah."

- "You sank the last ship." she said. "The Justice went down. Eleven passengers and two crew members were picked up by ships from shore.

- "No - I mean ... in Whydah. The cannonballs."

- "Two men were injured, and a boy was killed." she said.

- "Ah." I felt a little better - my act had avenged him. Then I realized that I would have been disappointed if the boy hadn't been killed - because then my sinking of the ship would have been utterly senseless. I'd been happier, for a moment, that the boy was dead than I would've been if he'd lived.

Had I killed so many people - including two of my own brothers - that I'd lost my moral compass? Or was this another effect of using too much magic?

Saska returned when she was informed that I was speaking again. She took my hand, as she had before. I was glad of the contact, and gently squeezed her fingers.

I wish I could tell you that I began to feel better after a few days. I did not.

I could move my hands, and my lower arms. I didn't dare to risk that movement spreading to my shoulders, and certainly not to my neck, because it sent a sharp pain shooting through my head.

It was a week before I could open my eyes. Even then I squinted, as if I was looking directly into the sun. I could just barely discern the pools of relative darkness - shadows, really - that were my loved ones.

***

Glasha had sent for her father, but there wasn't much that Rhigen could do.

- "He'll recover, or he won't. Either way, he needs time."

- "That's it?" said Sanatha.

- "He knows what caused this." said Rhigen. "And he knows how to reduce the chances of it happening again. But there is no magical cure for a surfeit of magic."

- "Then we'll use non-magical methods." said my sister.

She knew that I could hear her, so she sat with me in the afternoon, telling me what she'd been doing and what was happening in the Duchy.

- "Hurmas and Bathene are rebuilding the city, with Benaz Corig - though I don't know if she's helping or hindering. Thirty of the mercenary guns have been sent there, as you wanted. Kurebir is helping select the best emplacements for them. And your bargain with him seems to be working out."

- "My bargain?"

Sanatha had to remind me: since the ships from Galtin's Port had been reluctant to carry the sick and wounded, Kurebir had suggested that I offer those men a place to live in Varna. The majority would recover. If they couldn't serve as fighting men, they could still help with the harvest, or perform other useful tasks.

I'd been worried about taking in large numbers of former enemies, but Kurebir knew that they would pose no great threat if they were split up, and settled in different parts of the Duchy. Tir Tanle had generously volunteered to take twenty of these men, and find places for them on her lands.

There were over 150 of these sick and wounded. Our decision to offer them this choice had unforeseen consequences: a number of the unwounded mercenaries, waiting for ships, had asked if they might have the same opportunity.

They'd heard tales of Varnan savagery, and of what might happen to them if they fell into the hands of the fey, or the half-orcs. For the mercenary captains, it was a useful ploy to prevent their men from surrendering, to encourage them to fight harder.

But then these officers had surrendered. The rank and file were captured - and we'd fed them. Their sick were taken care of. There were no atrocities committed against them. This made them wonder how many more lies they'd been told. Plus, I believe, many were not looking forward to returning to Galtin's Port, where they might face an uncertain future. Some had signed on as mercenaries mainly in order to escape their previous lives.

Another two hundred former mercenaries asked to be allowed to stay in Varna.

The majority of Varnan lords, Tirs and Gerdars both, were very much in favour. We'd lost hundreds of fighting men, between the civil war and the invasion. There was also a great deal of work to be done: houses to be rebuilt, fields to be re-planted. Every pair of hands, every strong back would be needed.

Kurebir was the final deciding factor in this issue. He knew many of these men personally, and could vouch for the junior officers, who in turn could promise that the men we were accepting were of good character.

Had things been different - had they defeated us - I have no doubt that many of these mercenaries could and would have committed crimes. But given helpless victims to despoil, how many Varnans would have held their hand?

In the evening, Saska or Glasha would come and read to me, or quietly converse. Glasha was particularly adept at knowing when I wanted nothing more than silent company. She would sit quietly, holding my hand, or occasionally brushing an arm against mine. She also wanted to take me for a walk outside, down by the river, but I was dead set against letting anyone see me like this.

- "They all know you're ... hurt." she said. "Recovering."

- "Glasha, there are only two good things that have come from my abuse and over-use of magic: one is that I grew immensely more powerful than I was before the wars began." Was I still that powerful? I'd had plenty of time, lying on my back, to wonder if I could ever use magic again.

- "That's a mixed blessing." she said.

- "I agree. The other advantage is my fearsome reputation. Do you think that we'll face another invasion from the sea, when they know that I can sink their ships before their cannons are within range? I'm the Witch King, Glasha. I can't let anyone see me this weak."

- "I don't agree." she said. "But I understand."

Saska had a different approach. She'd already taken my hands, to place them on her swollen belly. I resisted the temptation of using magic to better sense our child.

One night, though, Saska was shifting about, clearly uncomfortable.

- "I'm sorry. I have to lie down." she said.

- "Are you alright?"

- "My back is sore. It's not easy carrying this little champion around all day."

- "Can I help?"

- "How are you at backrubs?"

We lay down together, and I rubbed oil into her lower back. I didn't need my sight for that. It was remarkably good therapy, for both of us.

***

My body recovered first. I was able to sit up, and then stand up, as long as I didn't suddenly move my neck or head. That led to stiff shoulders and a stiff neck, which Glasha was willing to rub for me.

My eyesight came back much more slowly. The familiar surroundings of the palace helped, I suppose. I learned to identify people more often, especially if they spoke to me first.

I was able to hold our firstborn son, who we named Denban, after Saska's maternal grandfather.

I was also able to resume magic lessons with our niece, Sirma. With her as my only witness, I dared to gather a small amount of aether for myself - with no pain or serious side-effects.

Sanatha insisted that I accompany her to a few audiences, listening to petitions or complaints. I let her take the lead, of course; there was rarely any need for me to bark or roar. I showed my teeth once - and that was more than sufficient.

We had confiscated the lands of the Mokshas, but not those of Gerdar Khuter. Khuter had joined Nathal, escaped from Whydah, and then joined Merik. He had escaped from Borovo as well, only to make his peace afterwards. But he had betrayed us, going over to the mercenaries along with Tir Moksha.

We decided to let the people choose a new Gerdar - so long as it was not a member of Khuter's family.

The Moksha inheritance, though, was too significant, too powerful to entrust to another member of that clan. After two successive Moksha Tirs had died fighting against us, we felt that enough was enough.

- "We should bestow it on one of our children." said Sanatha. "If one of yours - Denban, say - becomes the next Duke, then one of mine could be a Tir in the east. A neighbour for Dergun and the Caenogs."

- "I'm not sure, San. That would give your future son or daughter a power base - which they could use in an attempt to unseat and replace my son or daughter. We could be sowing the seeds of future civil wars."

- "They wouldn't fight. They'd be first cousins, Tauma." Then Sanatha realized what she'd said - just as she remembered who we had fought against in the civil war.

"That was stupid." she said. "Can we start over?"

- "Would it be possible to make co-rulers permanent?" I wondered.

- "Permanent? One of your children - and one of mine?"

- "Or two of yours, if we think they would be wiser rulers. Why not? It seems to be working well at the moment."

During my convalescence, Sanatha had steered the Duchy without incident. She wasn't seen as a substitute, or a regent, but as my equal. There was no question about who had led in wartime, no matter how much I tried to include her in councils. But in any non-military matters, our people seemed to understand that we were partners. In fact, many of them took their concerns to my sister, rather than to me, hoping for a more sympathetic ear.

- "What if ..." Sanatha seemed reluctant to put her thought into words.

- "What if one of us dies?" I guessed.

- "Yes. I'm sorry - I didn't know how to say it."

- "Considering how close we've come to that, perhaps we should say these things out loud."

- "Alright." she said. "Let's say that I die: who's your co-ruler then?"