5. Lukas
5
LUKAS
A fter a morning of thinking and plotting, Lukas walks across the grass to the old temple. The other outlaws he passes mostly ignore him. The sun has climbed half the sky, but many of them are bleary-eyed and mussed-looking. Some will have the excuse of a night lookout shift, but many more of them probably spent the night carousing until the small hours, draining the barrels that had been in the wagon they acquired the night before.
As usual, Lukas takes care as he moves around the base outside of the safety of Red Wolf’s hut.
In the last year, since Lukas returned to the Mortingales, he has mostly kept to himself. Although his precarious position isn’t as bad as it was before he left, when he was regularly called traitor to his face, spat at, had his food spoiled and had been beaten several times. Five years away, the loss of a hand and a full year of working at any menial task that he is capable of in such a diminished state, has gone some small way to rebuilding his reputation. Although the climb is long to regain the position he once enjoyed as a valued member of Abul’s inner circle.
To regain his status and show the Mortingales whose side he is truly on, Lukas will need something extraordinary. And he finally has something in his grasp that could be just that extraordinary thing.
When he reaches the door to the temple, he finds Little Lamb guarding the entrance. A big, wide man in tattered, ancient boiled leather that doesn’t fit him. In several places, it is reinforced with pieces of metal. In other spots, it’s torn revealing pink flesh turning a little red in places from the warm spring sunshine. Little Lamb holds his heavy double-bladed axe and Lukas wishes he was armed himself with something more substantial than his hook.
“Good morrow, Little Lamb,” Lukas says. “I wish to speak with Abul and the inner circle.”
“Do you?” Little Lamb’s face is oddly small compared to the rest of his bulky body. “You ought to know better than to come to the temple, Silverhand. I cannot grant entrance to a traitor.” And while that is true, Lukas does not have permission to enter the temple, it is especially bad luck to find Little Lamb on guard. Someone else Lukas might have been able to reason with, but Little Lamb despises Lukas, possibly more than any other Mortingale. And with good reason.
Lukas takes a breath. He glances at Little Lamb’s axe hand. He sees the fingers on the hilt flex. “I have vital information about the attack last night, on the Azurian party travelling through the mountains.”
Little Lamb tips his head to one side. Lukas watches Little Lamb's tongue play against the inside of his cheek as he considers this idly. Eventually, he sniffs. “What of it?”
“You should have kept one of them alive. They weren’t merchants.”
“Spying on us, were you? You gonna sell that news to the Rose Court?” He looks Lukas up and down. “You know, Silverhand, lotta people here want to see you lose more than a fucking hand for your treachery. I saw a few things done when your friends came into the mountains for the purge that I reckon ought to be done to you.”
Lukas raises his palm in a defensive gesture. “You have no right to stop me seeking audience. I am a Mortingale.”
“Not inner circle though, are you?” says Little Lamb with some relish. “And special rules apply to you. Can’t let you into the temple without someone from the inner circle to vouch for you.”
“Then vouch for me, Lamb. I have important information for Abul about that party. I need to bring it to him.”
“Information, really? We all know what happens when we act on your information,” says Little Lamb. “Tell you what, the sun is shining and we got a lot of supplies last night, so if you fuck off right now to your little traitor’s cell in Red Wolf’s sly hut, I won’t chop some other bits off you, traitor.”
“Zai’s balls,” Lukas mutters. He looks past Little Lamb, over his wide shoulder into the temple hall. A few people are looking over at them. Lukas scans for anyone he can alert that might listen to him, someone who hates him less than Little Lamb. And he spots what he is looking for. A flash of bright copper hair as Red Wolf moves amongst the crowd, laughing and chatting with Marko cradled in his arms like a babe.
“Wolf,” he calls out, “Red Wolf.”
Red Wolf looks up. He looks surprised to see Lukas. Lukas has never asked Red Wolf to escort him into the temple before. Red Wolf shakes his head. But Lukas calls out again, “Wolf, help me. I need to speak to Abul. I’ve found out some information. It’s about the Lordling. Please, grant me entry.”
At this Red Wolf sighs expansively and weaves his way over. “Lucky,” he says, looking alarmed. “You can’t come in here. You know that.”
“Told him that,” Little Lamb says bluntly.
“I need to see him,” Lukas says, ignoring Little Lamb, appealing directly to Red Wolf. “You’re inner circle. You can bring me in.”
Red Wolf looks around at the other Mortingales watching him. As Abul’s only adult son, Red Wolf has a rarefied position in the Mortingales. Rarefied enough that he was able to get away with sheltering Lukas when he returned from Lunatum. But bringing Lukas, a man still considered a traitor by many, into the temple, is a dangerous step, even for Red Wolf. “You’ll owe me,” Red Wolf says after a pause.
“Fine,” says Lukas. He gives Red Wolf what he hopes is a promising smile.
Red Wolf looks at Little Lamb. “I’ll stand for him, Lamb,” he says, “let him through.”
Little Lamb cannot refuse Red Wolf. He steps back.
Lukas gives Little Lamb a smug nod and steps into the temple hall. A wide, ruined space with half its ceiling long gone even before the Empire tried to burn it down. People watch him with a mixture of interest and outward hostility.
When they reach the front of the hall, Lukas sees it is not Abul who is holding court, sitting on the large carved chair on the dais, but Suriel. Abul’s second wife. She bounces one of her twin sons on her knee. A babe of less than two. The babe is stout and sturdy. Suriel is a small-framed woman. Her babe fills her lap, his thick pink legs trailing over her skirts. She is still beautiful. No doubt chosen by Abul for his wife because of her beauty. But age is beginning to steal the breath-taking edge from her looks. Her hair is still long and tumbles in thick waves but its golden colour is faded to something that looks more like old parchment. Her waist is thick and there are lines around her eyes. She looks too old to be mother to the babe she holds and if Red Wolf is to be believed Abul plans to sire more children before his time comes.
Lukas looks warily around. When Abul held audiences he would never allow bloodshed in his presence. If Abul is sickly enough that he has sent his wife to hear petitioners, Lukas assumes that rule will hold. But if Suriel rejects him, he will struggle to make it out of the main hall without a beating for daring to waste the time of the Mortingale’s court.
Red Wolf bows to Suriel, “Sweet wife of my father, I bring you news about the true purpose of the party we attacked last night,” he says as he straightens.
“The party I attacked,” says a voice behind Lukas. Inga is pushing her way through the crowds. Her hand is on her sword.
“Indeed, sister,” says Red Wolf, giving Inga a nod.
“And what would you know about that, Wolf?” Inga says, giving Red Wolf a sneer. “I am sure you lay abed with your cock in your hand while we executed Azurian soldiers in the name of a just and free Empire.”
Red Wolf grins at her, “Indeed I did, sister. And delightful it was too. We all have our roles to play in the great fight. You are a warrior. I am a scout. I was the one who sighted that party. I brought the news of it to you, as is my duty assigned by our dear father. And now I bring you more news, found by my own stealth and cunning. I have discovered that your successful slaying of the Azurian merchants was watched, and the member of the party who fled into the woods was captured.”
At this declaration, a low muttering goes around the room.
Inga looks furious, “You interrupted our business to bring us news of the merchant’s pillow worker?” she says, incredulous.
Red Wolf smiles at her. Lukas finds himself bristling at Red Wolf’s taste for theatrics, as he continues. “Pillow worker? Shall we see? Silverhand, what do you have to say of what you discovered?”
“Silverhand,” Inga hisses, stepping close to Lukas where he stands behind Red Wolf. It seems she has only just noticed that he is there. “You foul traitor. How dare you come here to the heart of the Greyheart Temple. You may have been allowed back into the outer circle thanks to the misplaced affections of my brother, but you ought not to be here, where you might discover our secrets and sell them back to your filthy bloodline.” She turns her venom on Red Wolf. “And how dare you bring him here. It’s bad enough that you shelter him in your filthy hovel as your sly bed warmer, but to walk him into the temple as if he is one of us. How could you, Red Wolf?” But she doesn’t let Red Wolf reply, she turns immediately to address Suriel. “Wife of my father, please. Grant me leave to take this traitor outside and execute him for disobeying our father’s rules.”
Suriel bounces the babe on her lap, shushing a grizzle. He settles. She leans forward. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Inga. I think your father would rather you contained your wrath until we’ve heard what Silverhand has to say. Silverhand, you must know Abul has banned you from coming into the temple. Red Wolf may have vouched for you, but if you do not have a good reason to break the covenant he imposed on you, I will be forced to let the inner circle decide your fate.”
Inga takes a small step back with a nod of agreement.
Suriel looks at Lukas, “Well, Silverhand?”
“Where is Abul?” Lukas says. “I would rather tell him this directly.”
Suriel shifts the babe on her lap. “Abul is indisposed,” she says.
“Does he still sicken?”
Suriel nods. “He will not rise again this day. I have been granted the right to speak for him.”
Lukas looks around at the crowd of faces, ranging from outright hostile to plainly curious.
Inga steps forward again. “I can also hear petitions on behalf of my father,” she says, sounding a little petulant about it. Perhaps she thinks she ought to be on the dais as Abul’s representative.
Inga is not like any woman Lukas had ever known before he joined the Mortingales. When he was a boy, living in the Rose Palace, Lukas was taught that women had to behave in all sorts of particular prescribed ways because if they didn’t it could endanger their ability to bear sons for the glory of Azuria. And that included not holding any kind of power of governance. Zai Brides were the only women who could take a seat as part of the Council of the Rose Court. But he has long learned the Mortingales do not follow those rules. Lukas knows Inga hopes to succeed her father as leader, although Lukas is not sure the Mortingales would ever be so bold.
“Please speak, Silverhand,” Suriel says to Lukas.
Lukas takes a breath, “The man who fled from the attack last night?—”
He’s cut off by Little Lamb, standing behind Inga, his deep voice cuts right through the room. “The whore, you mean.” Lukas did not realise Little Lamb had followed them this far into the hall.
Around Little Lamb a few people laugh. Lukas cannot blame them. It is wise to laugh if it seems Little Lamb has made a joke.
Suriel gives Little Lamb a sour look. “You will have your moment to speak, Lamb,” she says. “You say this escapee was a noble? I thought the party was simply one of Azurian merchants?”
“This is not the case,” Lukas says. “I watched the raid. I realised that the party could not be merchants. They were too well-armed and their men were clearly trained by the Imperial army. Inga’s crew met them a dozen to five in a surprise attack at night when the Azurians were resting. Two of her men were killed. Merchants would have lost that fight in the blink of an eye. These men were soldiers. Outnumbered soldiers. When I saw one of the party escape, I gave chase. I found the escapee and interrogated him. I have discovered that the true purpose of the party was a scouting mission for the Imperial Army to assess our numbers. I believe that the Azurians may return to attack the mountains again.”
The mood in the room changes at that pronouncement. Even the assembled outlaws who were twitching to kill him where he stood, are desperate to hear what he has to say.
There is nothing the depleted Mortingales fear more than another purge.
“This is very serious,” Suriel says. “We are not prepared for another such attack. We are still weak in numbers and weapons.”
“I am aware,” says Lukas. “I believe we need to take urgent action now. We must attack Azuria before they attack us.”
“Attack Azuria,” Inga hoots. “We all remember how it went last time we trusted a fucking Darek prince to lead us to attack Azuria.”
Suriel looks thoughtful. “I think we ought to discuss this with Abul after all,” she says. She stands, hoisting her babe onto her hip. “Silverhand, Red Wolf, come with me. You too, Inga.”
“If I’m coming, I’m bringing Little Lamb,” Inga says.
“If you must,” says Suriel, sweeping out of the room.
Lukas follows Suriel through an archway and into the small passageway that leads to Abul’s private quarters. Somewhere Lukas has not been permitted to enter since he returned from Lunatum. Red Wolf walks beside him. Inga and Little Lamb are behind. Lukas doesn’t look back at the hall’s reaction to him being led through this sacred door.
Suriel stops outside another archway. This one is draped with a heavy curtain of dark brown wool. Suriel says, “Remember, Abul sickens. He must hear this, but we must be calm.” She sweeps the fabric aside and leads the way through.
The room beyond is small. A bedchamber with stone walls. It’s very warm inside, the air slightly smoky from a fire banked too high. A large curtained bed is at the room’s centre, draped with linen and piled with furs. Abul lies upon it. His face pale. Next to him on the bed, the twin brother of the babe Suriel carries lies sleeping.
Abul was a strong virile man when Lukas first met him. Even five years ago, Abul was older but still in full health. But Lukas returned from Lunatum to find Abul fading. He cannot be more than sixty summers even now. It pains Lukas to see him so gravely ill.
Suriel approaches. “Husband,” she says. “Silverhand wishes to speak to you. He has interrogated a young noble he captured during the raid last night on the Azurian merchants. He believes they were not merchants and wishes to tell you of what he has learned.”
Abul straightens under the furs. He looks up and past Suriel, directly at Lukas. “Ah,’ he says, “Lucky,” like Red Wolf, Abul still uses Lukas’s old name. The one he used when he first joined the Mortingales. “My prince. What news do you bring me?”
Lukas nods a small bow of respect. “Sire, the party were not merchants, but, as your son Red Wolf suspected, Azurian soldiers. I captured a lordling who escaped Inga’s attack. He was their commander and has told me as much. They were scouting the mountains because the Imperial Army plans another raid.”
Abul nods slowly. “Then I suppose we must prepare to go underground again.”
“We hid last time and took heavy losses,” Lukas said. “We should fight. We should attack Attar again before their new attack can even begin.”
Abul shakes his head against the stack of worn feather pillows he is propped upon. “My dear prince, we are not the Imperial Army. We do not have the strength or the numbers. We were overrun before and we are much weakened now.”
Lukas smiles a small smile, “But what if we had something of great value that would change our fortunes?”
Behind Lukas, Inga says, “And where would we get that? You going to ask your royal father to open the treasury for us, Bastard?”
Abul holds up a shaky hand, “Quiet, daughter.” He looks at Lukas. “But Inga is right. We have neither men nor coin to pay and feed them.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you come to me with news of some great treasure trove. Has the lordling you captured tried to gain his freedom with news of some hidden wealth in the forest?” He laughs, the laugh turning to a cough which takes him a few moments to shake. Suriel fusses, placing the babe she carries down to lie beside his father and bringing a cup of water to Abul’s lips.
Marko starts yipping in Red Wolf’s arms and then, she too jumps onto Abul’s bed. It takes a while for things to settle. Abul repositions himself with Marko and his babes around him. Suriel sits down on the bed and takes his hand.
“Continue, Lucky,” Abul says.
Lukas shakes his head. “Sire, he is himself a treasure trove. He is Elric Underlia. He’s the son of Lord Harwin Underlia. The current Warden of Pluma-Ferris. He is of great value.”
There’s a satisfying reaction to this in the room. Even Red Wolf whistles. Only Inga and Little Lamb remain unmoved.
“So,” says Suriel. “You are suggesting we ransom him back to his father?”
Lukas says, “Maybe, and that is certainly an option but?—”
Inga interrupts him. “A large ransom could be what we need to buy enough mercenary fighters and weapons to assault the Rose Palace again.” She sounds happier with this than she ever has with anything Lukas has ever suggested. Lukas wonders if perhaps she relishes the chance to show her father and the rest of the Mortingales how much more successful that raid could have been with her included.
Lukas turns to Inga. “We could do that, but we could also?—”
Again she cuts him off. “Oh, so you do not want us to make another attempt on the Rose Palace? Of course, you are unhappy about that, traitor. We all know how you feel about attacking your beloved blood kin. Perhaps you fear this time you would not be able to betray us all and alert the Imperial Guard.”
Little Lamb makes a gruff sound of agreement. Lukas rounds on them both. “Zai’s stinking cock, Inga, are you duty-bound to condemn everything I say? If you think I want to attack the Rose Palace it's another trap, if you think I don’t it’s because I am protecting my kin.”
Inga simply nods. “Yes,” she says. “Because you’re a traitor.”
Quietly, in his deep rumble of a voice, Little Lamb says, “My brother died in that stinking palace.”
“I know,” says Lukas.
“Not a nice death either,” Little Lamb growls. “He didn’t die on an Imperial sword.”
Lukas looks at Little Lamb. He can feel his throat prickling with anger. But after what Lukas’s family had done to Little Lamb’s brother, Lukas wouldn’t blame Little Lamb if he decided to take Lukas apart right here. “I know what they did,” he says. “And believe me, no one is more revolted by the Azurian Empire’s brutality than me.”
Inga snorts, but Lukas continues. “I am not saying we shouldn’t attack the Rose Palace again. All I am saying is we should consider how we do that. Yes, we could try and ransom Lord Underlia’s son for gold to pay more fighters. Or…” Lukas takes a breath. This is his big idea. The one he had worked out carefully this morning. Turning over what Elric had said. Planning how best to use things to his own advantage. He says, “The Plumians fight to take their land back from the Empire. They have been forced into the western end of the island and imprisoned there by the Ferric Wall. They are our allies. Fighting the same enemy we do. The foul corrupt Empire.”
“Your family,” says Little Lamb’s deep voice.
Lukas ignores it. “I say we hand the hostage to the Plumian rebels. Let them use him to gain an advantage in their struggle.”
“And that’s your plan?” says Inga. “We give away our chance to raise the coin we need to mount another raid? How convenient.”
“Be quiet, Inga,” says Abul. “Lucky has an interesting idea here. I have oft thought we ought to support the Plumians in their struggle. And Lord Underlia is one of their greatest enemies. A foul man, I am given to understand. I am sure his son is no better. We have never had a way to make an alliance with the Plumians before now. But if we had something to offer them…” he trails off into thought, his hand moving on Marko’s shaggy black fur. After a moment he nods at Lukas. “This could change our fortunes considerably.” Abul smiles, his eyes crinkle. “The Plumians are exceptional warriors. We could combine our forces for a new attack on the Rose Palace in Attar.”
Suriel looks at Inga. “And you will get your wishes then, Inga. We will take Attar in a combined force with the Plumians.”
Inga looks at Suriel. Her mouth twists. Lukas is sure she is trying to come up with a reason why this plan will not work. Eventually, she says, “Nice plan, Suriel, ” — drawling Suriel’s name like it's an insult — “but there’s one small issue. There’s no way to contact the Plumians. They never leave the western side of Pluma-Ferris. And any attempt to travel to that part of the island would mean attack from the Imperial forces in the east and the Plumians themselves if we managed to make landfall. How can we form an alliance with a people we can’t contact?”
Little Lamb makes a grunting laugh of agreement.
“Actually,” says Lukas. “The Plumians do have an envoy. They make contact between the Plumian people and those in the Empire who wish to aid them on their struggle.”
Inga narrows his eyes. “I suppose he’s a friend of yours.”
“I have never met him,” Lukas snaps. “I simply heard about him when I was in Lunatum.”
Abul says, “This is an extremely interesting proposition, Lucky. And how do we contact this Plumian envoy of yours?”
“We will need to take the hostage to Lunatum. The envoy has a secret rendezvous known to only a few. Known to me.” Lukas pauses. Of course, that would have to be part of it. Going back to Lunatum. At the thought, his belly is ice. His skin prickles all over. He looks down at the hook, at where he used to have a hand. But he says nothing. If he can restore his standing in the eyes of the Mortingales by brokering this deal with the Plumians, he will take Elric Underlia to the stars if he needs to.
Abul says, “It seems you have thought of everything, Lucky. Then we must plan this mission carefully. But the presence of your Lordling and what we plan to do with him must remain known only to us few. We cannot be too careful. Lucky, you will come to dinner here in my room tonight. And bring this prize of yours with you so we can see him and assure ourselves your story is true. Inga, you will come too, and Little Lamb. And you, Red Wolf. And do not forget, if you please, I want news of what we have here to go no further than this room.”