Tenebroum

Chapter 160: Foreign Gods

Chapter 160: Foreign Gods

The voice had known that Tanda was going to be wealthy before she’d ever set sail on this voyage. The northern trade routes were well known for luxuries that were very nearly unheard of in the South. Even her time spent off the coast, watching the city night after night, had not prepared her for the dizzying variety of that wealth, though.

The undertemple within the Lich’s lair was a gilded nightmare that grew more extravagant with each passing year, but even that terrible heart of luxury was the only part of her Master’s kingdom to compare to the thousand delights she saw on her way to the palace. It was a humbling experience, in its way, though none of that consternation made its way to her carefully neutral face.

Instead, she studied the sights from her ornate palanquin as she glided through the darkened streets and studied the city that passed around her. The city was made up of stone and stucco buildings, and each dwelling that was too poor for a mosaic or statues to mark its existence was decorated with colorful frescoes or lined with ornate friezes.

Together, the result was that it was impossible to tell which buildings might be the tenements of paupers and which might be the homes of merchant lords. In the end, the whole thing became a sort of temple in its own right, and between the silken banners and fine clothes of the natives that had braved the late hour to see what the commotion was, the only symbol of status that she could ultimately discern were the small gardens and oasis that hid behind wrought iron fences along her route. In a city where everything was fancy, only a few could afford the space for simplicity.

That lesson was driven home when they finally reached the palace of Tanda’s Sultun. It was a large, towering building, built in a spiral like a narwhal’s horn in such a way that it lorded over the rest of the walled city. It was neither its size nor its opalescent tiles that made it stand out, but the broad and verdant gardens that separated it from the rest of the city like a green manicured moat.

Guards with wicked halberds had lined the whole route to the palace. They kept the commoners away from her death knights as much as anything, but here she faced what might as well have been an opposing army. Not only were there hundreds of broad-shouldered men wearing well-polished conical caps standing at attention, but there were mages too, draped in silk and watching her from high above as they circled her on tiny flying carpets.

The scene struck her as a show of force that was almost as ostentatious as the rest of the city, but then the Voice of Reason was sure that was the point, and to her, it stank of weakness, not strength. Mortal soldiers needed to eat and sleep. Most importantly, they needed to be paid, and with as much money as the people of Tanda spent on their decorations, she doubted very much that they had a large standing army.

So, instead of doing anything that might provoke conflict, she dismounted her palanquin and strode past the assembled defenders with only a single skeletal knight in tow to hold her baggage as she walked toward the palace gates. No one opposed her. Indeed, the sense of relief radiating off these perfumed warriors that this would not devolve into bloodshed as she walked through the garden-lined path was palpable, and the towering bronze gates opened before her quickly enough that she didn’t even need to slow her steps.

Once inside, she finally stood on familiar ground. There, she encountered the true warriors of the merchant realm, the servants and the courtiers, and she was bombarded with all the polite and hospitable weapons that they had to offer. The Voice of Reason would not allow these to slow her down, either. She knew that she had perhaps five hours until the blue-gray light of dawn colored the horizon once more. As much as she might wish for all the time in the world to conclude such important negotiations, time was ever against the servants of the Lich.

So, buffeted by fawning curiosity, she moved ever forward, giving the well-dressed men and women that swirled around her just enough information to announce her properly as she moved toward the heart of the court. There, she found a place not at all like the audience halls of the South that she was used to. Instead, she found the Sultan half reclined on a pile of plush cushions at the heart of the building, ensconced in the warm light of oil lamps and the glowing wards of mages.

The Voice of Reason made no effort to approach these. Instead, as the room was stilled and her presence was announced in half a dozen foreign tongues, she studied the men and women that ringed the outside of the room to watch. It was clear to her immediately that not all of them were human. Some of those in attendance were shown with an inner light that marked them as spirits or even small gods.

Are such things more common here? She wondered. Did that make peace a more or less likely prospect?

The Voice wasn’t sure. Such things might change the outcome, but they wouldn’t change her efforts. It was not at all unlikely that a city as old and grand as Tanda would have a godling of its own, but who were the others, then? Might the desert have a spirit? What about the river or the bay?

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

All of that would require further study, which would be the prerogative of any number of other spirits. Her job was not to puzzle this strangeness out but to make peace with it, which she did with her gifts, a chilly smile, and as many kind words as she could muster.

The Sultan’s servants took her precious objects from her as she presented each of them, and once that was done the Sultan looked down on her magnanimously and offered her exotic incenses and aged wines from a dozen different ports along with golden jewelry. It was only the last that the Lich would have an interest in, but she thanked him for all of them just the same.

“Surely you have come all this way for more than gifts and pleasantries,” the Sultan said finally. “Tell me… tell all of us what your dark fleet is doing here.”

“We have come to make war—” she started to answer, but the Sultan quickly interrupted her as he finally pulled his bulk up to his full height instead of slouching.

“Is this a threat? In the heart of our power, you think to—” he started to say, his indignity rising with each word.

“But we have come to make friends too,” she said, continuing in a loud, clear voice that silenced the few remaining whispers. “The darkness has risen and claimed the South, but it will not stop there. In time, the whole world will belong to my master.”

“Tanda has stood for hundreds of years and resisted dozens of armies,” the Sultan said, leaning forward. He was obviously enjoying this as he licked his fat lips. “What makes you think yours would do any more than add to the bones in the wastelands around the city?”

“Besides the fact that those bones would be converted into fresh soldiers for the fight?” the Voice smiled. “Tanda has been strong for a long time. It would be strong even now, at first, at least, but we have already claimed Constantinal and Rahkin and every kingdom in between the two, and only those few that surrendered to the darkness still live and breathe. All the rest are broken places, grown over with weeds and shadows.”

“So you ask us to bend the knee?” The Sultan asked, appearing even more annoyed. He looked like he was about to tell her off, but a look at one of the women who lounged around the base of the Sultan’s dais seemed to make him think better of it. “We will not surrender to you or anyone else, but we would… consider an alliance, perhaps, with the proper terms.”

“An interesting proposal,” the voice said automatically, but it had barely registered. “What would that look like in your mind?”

Instead of dealing with the puppet figurehead, she turned her gaze to the woman whom she’d thought to be nothing more than a courtesan until that moment. She was dressed in pale silks and golden ornaments that showed more of her body than they hid, but as soon as their eyes met, the Voice could see an ageless depth in the eyes of the other woman.

While it was possible she was a mage, it was far more likely that this was the goddess of Tanda here, hiding in plain sight. It was that insight that guided the rest of the Voice’s conversation with the Sultan. He might have been the one saying the words, but it was the nameless woman’s body language she was listening to as the two of them began the elaborate dance of diplomacy.

For the next two hours, the three of them made proposals and counterproposals as everything slowly fell into place. Given the Sultan’s hostility, it was hard to understand why this meeting was even taking place at first, but it eventually became clear why: Constantial. Every time the name of that city came up, the Voice saw the shadow of fear cross the eyes of her true opponent. The goddess of Tanda did not wish to share the same fate as her sister city and was forcing the mortals that ostensibly ruled her to find another way.

That was reasonable. That was a motivation that the Voice of Reason could understand, and she used that to frame the discussion. Guaranteeing both the city-state of Tanda as well as any of their partners that wished to sign on as well safety and security both from the Lich and any of their neighbors that might feel differently for a moderate tithe, to be delivered monthly to Rahkin, or possibly other nearby cities after they had been conquered.

“O-o-one percent of the city’s population every year…” the Sultan stammered when she first proposed the terms. “Even spread out monthly, that would still be dozens of ships! The cost is too high!”

“You would lose more people in your first night of standing against use than you would in a year of fealty,” the Voice insisted. “I’d invite you to ask the good people of Rahkin, but they refused our generous offer and are no more.”

That caused a round of collective gasps, but the Sultan ignored them. “If you’re so confident, then why not ask for two percent or even ten percent?” he asked.

“We seek a relationship that will span decades,” the Voice answered smoothly. “No city could flourish under such an onerous yoke.”

That metaphor was as close as she dared step to the truth. The people of this city, and all cities that might yet be brought to heel, were nothing but herds of cattle, and so they would be harvested slowly. For now, they could pay in beggars and criminals, but she was certain that in time when the Lich held dominion over the world, they would pay with their prayers and their dreams, too. After all, just as her dark lord used every part of the body to build its creations, it would use every part of creation to build what was going to come next.

Though the negotiations lasted almost until morning, she returned to her ship before the first sun rose with a deal signed in blood. One more city entered the fold, and she hadn’t lost so much as a single death’s head to achieve her goal.