John Lee - Unicorn Saga 04 - The Unicorn Peace

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h

e was alone in darkness. Around him were the

sounds of rustling and sighing. Not darkness, he real-

ized; utter blackness. No nightmoon; not even a dusting

of stars. He stood stock still; did not dare to move as

the pricklings of alarm coursed up his spine. He reached

out with his senses. The sounds seemed to come from

everywhere at once, an omnipresent and suggestive sib-

ilance. There was a strong odor of loam and growing

things, but nothing more. Something brushed against

his face and he shied violently, would have cried out,

but no sound came. I'm dreaming, he thought. This is

nothing but a dream. It didn't help. He was afraid.

He forced himself to reach out. His hand encountered

stalks, or what he surmised were stalks. Moving up, he

felt leaves and then something fuzzy. It was well above

his head and he was a shade over eight feet tall. He

took a deep breath; only a dream. It reminded him of

the jungle area on the Island at the Center. Could the

Guardian have pulled him back, all these years later, to

punish him for his destruction of the Outlanders? The

Guardian was capable of it, but he knew, instinctively,

that he had not. With that came the realization of what

this place must be. He was out on the Alien Plain. With

the knowledge came light. Not centered, like a dawn,

or spilling down, like the sudden unveiling of the night-

moon, but a seeping in from all quarters.

He was mewed up in grasses, tall and seemingly im-

2 + JOHN LEE

penetrable. Good hunting country for wild warcats, he

thought, and shivered. There was menace in the air, its

source, in part, the feeling of being closed in. That, at

ieast, he could do something about. He nailed around

him, breaking the thick stalks, seeing the tops sag

abruptly. The amorphous light grew stronger. He started

forward, striking with his arms as if they were reversed

sickles. He noticed that he was wearing his habitual blue

robe. Could be worse, he thought with a flash of grim

humor; I've been naked in some dreams.

He ploughed ahead, arms swinging unnaturally slowly

and his sandals sticking to the ground. He glanced over

his shoulder and the vague feeling of dread became con-

centrated in that direction. Worse, the grasses be had

swept aside and trampled down had sprung up again.

He pushed on, heart thumping painfully, breath whis-

tling in and out. Logic dictated that he stop and take

stock of the situation, but logic had no place in this

dream. Fear drove him and the slug's pace, which was

the best that he could do, added to the dread.

It went on forever and yet it was over in moments.

He stood at the base of a mountain range that sloped

gently at first and then soared up. He knew it instantly

even though he had only seen it once before and then

from above. This was the range that formed the north-

ern border of the Alien Plain. Beyond it was a sea or

an ocean. His glimpse of the coastline had been brief

and he had been very tired.

The fear that had driven him was ebbing and he gazed

at the slopes with something akin to relief. The spur of

fear might be gone, but he was wary still. He turned

slowly and looked at the way he had come. A towering

wall of green crowded behind him. Upward then. As he

turned back and glanced up, a building flickered into

view and disappeared. That couldn't be. No man had

ever set foot in these mountains. He took a deep breath

THE UNICORN PEACE + 3

and peered upslope. The building, large, turreted and

shining, appeared and then vanished.

He stood, waiting for it to reappear, but nothing hap-

pened. He braced his shoulders. No sense waiting here

while the gods knew what crept up behind him. He set

off again. The slope was gentle at first, but soon became

steeper. Massive boulders blocked his path, forcing him

to detour. He stopped from time to time to look for the

building. There was a glow, he was certain of that, and

once he thought he saw a tower with a conical top. To

reach it became a compulsion, but, hard as he climbed,

he seemed to be getting no closer. The path turned

treacherous with loose scree denying him puchase. He

clung to the rocks, hauling himself up, desperate to

reach the security of the insubstantial refuge. Then he

lost his footing altogether and tumbled back, stomach

dropping in sudden terror.

Jarred Courtak woke with a start. His mouth was dry

and his hands were clenched. His heart was pounding.

He lay there for a while calming himself. The dream

was still vivid in his mind and he tried to make sense

of it. There were those, usually men or women in whom

the Talent was weak, who made a living from the inter-

pretation of dreams, but he had never been a believer.

It was true that the Archmage had once seen the future,

but that had been as a result of Magic, properly ap-

plied. He shrugged mentally and rolled out of bed. It

would soon be time for the ritual of Making the Day.

He breakfasted in the Outpost's Hall with the rest of

the Magicians and then returned to his rooms to pre-

pare for the morning's meeting of the Commission for

the Outland. The Commission, together with the re-

search he had been doing for a history of Strand, had

dominated his life for years now. He had been on the

Commission since its founding thirteen years ago. Its

deliberations had meandered on ever since. There had

4 + JOHN LEE

been no sense of urgency in the early days. Jarrod had

been alone in his conviction that the soil was safe, free

of whatever had caused mutations in the past, but the

barren expanse had greened since then and become a

vast, flat savanna. Pressure for colonization was grow-

ing.

He wondered if the past night's dream had any con-

nection with the coming meeting. A vote on partition

was a possibility. A draft of the proposal had been cir-

culated. There was nothing in it for the Discipline. He

had fought hard for territory in the beginning and had

been told, politely but firmly, that the Discipline was

not a sovereign state and thus had no role to play in

matters territorial. He had persisted and a move had

been made to oust him. He had appealed to the Arch-

mage.

He smiled at the memory of what had come next.

Archmage Ragnor had descended on Stronta like the

specter of death, breathing anathema. In a speech be-

fore the Royal Council of Paladine, the Commissioners

and the diplomatic corps, he had declared that the en-

tire Outland belonged to the Discipline by right of con-

quest. The resulting furor dominated conversation in

the capitals of Strand for many sennights. The printed

broadsheets that had sprung up since the war had had

a field day. Thereafter Jarrod had not pressed the Dis-

cipline's claim, but no one had challenged his right to

sit on the Commission.

In the intervening years he had learned that there was

little logic where matters of national interest were con-

cerned and that his colleagues, intelligent, secure in their

positions, often humorous in private, became rigid and

inflexible when they got to the conference table. Only

Qtorin of Lissen, who represented Queen Arabella of

Arundel (Queen now because she had married), re-

tained his skeptical sense of humor. Everyone paid lip

THE UNICORN PEACE + 5

service to the idea of a new beginning, but they clung

fiercely to the old order.

At one stage, Jarrod had suggested that the Outland

be developed without boundaries, under international

control, an idea he still felt offered the best solution. It

had caused another uproar. The growing body of schol-

ars and men of letters had endorsed it enthusiastically,

but even the Isphardis, who of all people should have

been international in outlook, had rejected the notion.

Borr Sarad, the grizzled former Thane of Talisman, had

been the only sympathetic ear.

Now, fifteen years after the war had ended, matters

were coming to a head and none of the old problems

had been solved. There was no agreed-upon formula for

the apportionment of land. Should it be based on the

size of the individual countries? Their contribution to

the war effort? How then to deal with Songuard, which

had done nothing during the war, or Isphardel, which

had never committed a single man but had provided a

vast amount of money? What of Talisman, smallest of

all the nations, whose cloudsteed wings and warcat bat-

talions had fought so valiantly and suffered such losses?

There had been no formal agreement on any of these

points, but Phalastra of Estragoth, the elderly Umbrian

Elector who was President of the Commission, was

pushing for a conclusion, motivated, in Jarrod' opinion,

more by the growing civil unrest in the Empire that by

conviction. For himself, he could not for the life of him

see how they were to come to an equitable decision. He

sighed. His own idea was still the only just solution,

but, after all these years of argument, he could hold out

no real hope for it,

He changed out of his blue robe and donned lay at-

tire. With his height he could not pass for anything but

a Magician, but he had found that it was more politic

not to remind people of his status. He went down to

6 + JOHN LEE

the stables where his horse was saddled and waiting and

took the long route to Stronta's western gate. He mar-

veled anew as he rode at the difference the years had

made.

The clean lines of the star fort were obscured by the

wooden houses and shops that had sprung up outside

the walls. The capital was almost surrounded now by a

tangle of narrow streets replete with inns and bawdy

houses. Only the well-founded fear of the Great Maze

kept the area around Northgate clear. It now took far

longer to get into the city than it had in the old days.

With all the new mouths to feed, the roads were clogged

with wagons and carts bringing produce to market. So

much had changed since the war, he reflected as he

kicked his mount into a trot. On this day, of all days,

it would not do to be late for the meeting.

chaipreR 2

C

^^/onneian Malum, Lord Quern, sharpened his quills

slowly and methodically. Taking notes at these sessions

was rough. He had long since become accustomed to

the various accents, but the Commission members

talked fast when they were arguing, which was most of

the time; they interrupted one another constantly. All

the positions were so well known by now that members

seldom got a chance to finish their set pieces. Once the

session got going, there would be no time to sharpen a

nib.

He sat at the scribes' table, his chair set somewhat

apart from the others. He was an official member of the

Umbrian delegation, but his patron, the Elector of Es-

tragoth, wanted his own account of the proceedings,

and it was Malum's job to provide it. He'd been doing

it since he first came to Stronta at the age of eighteen.

The job itself was fascinating for alt it rigors. The Elec-

tor divided his time between Angorn and Stronta and

was a key personage in both capitals. As the Elector's

private secretary, Malum followed his master every-

where, and, because of his access to Phalastra, he was

often courted by powerful men. While the pay was

rather meager, he would never have been able to live at

Court on the revenues from his estate, let alone travel

to foreign lands.

Estragoth himself was a remarkable old bird. He had

been well advanced in years when Malum was first taken

8 t JOHN LEE

into his household, and he must be pushing eighty now.

That in itself was no mean feat, but the remarkable

thing was that the old boy was still active. He no longer

hunted and he was somewhat hard of hearing, but his

mind was still sharp. He walked with the aid of a stout

cane on those days when the gout or the rheumatism

was bad, but Malum had seen him belabor a would-be

Causeway bandit with it and drive the fellow off.

He put away his knife and lined the quills up in a

row. He moved the inkwell closer to him. The water

clock was approaching the tenth hour and the Com-

missioners would be coming in soon. They were an in-

teresting lot, all except the Chamberlain who nominally

represented Paladine. He was a fussy little man preoc-

cupied with protocol and details, but everyone knew

that the real decisions were taken by the Queen or her

Arundelian paramour. There was noise from the ante-

room and he looked up as the three regular scribes came

in. Polite greetings were exchanged.

Borr Sarad, the former Thane of Talisman, was the

first of the Commissioners to arrive. He was a compact

man with an outdoor face and iron grey hair. He was

always on time, usually early, and Malum could predict

the opening words. Sure enough:

"Beat me to it again, eh Quern? One of these days

. . . one of these days."

Malum stood and ducked his head. "May the best of

the day be before us. Thane," he said, and smiled. Borr

Sarad had been voted out of office by his people in the

first election after the war, but everyone still used the

old title.

"Selah to that, young man," Sarad replied as he ad-

vanced down the room to the desk- "Greetings, gentle-

men," he said to the scribes as he passed them. "Well,

what do you think will happen today?" he asked.

"Think we'll be able to get this thing wrapped up? I

THE UNICORN PEACE + 9

certainly hope so. I've no wish to spend the summer

here. It's too damned hot."

"At least it's dry heat here. You should try summer

in the south, where I come from."

"I thank you, but no. I'll take my mountains any time

of year. Seriously though, what's your opinion of how

things stand?"

"Truth?" Malum asked.

Sarad grinned. "Of course not. Educated guess."

"Well then, the idea of the Outland as an interna-

tional territory without boundaries doesn't stand a

chance, no matter what kind of authority or combina-

tion of authorities govern it. The only thing that has

kept it alive this long is the Mage's reputation."

"I have to agree," Sarad admitted. "If it had come

to a vote any time in the first five years, it might have

stood a chance, but not now." The Thane paused and

looked at Malum speculatively.

"D'you have an opinion, one that you're prepared to

divulge, about the draft proposal?"

"The partition would seem to address most of the

problems," Malum said Judiciously. "The Songeans are

provided for, the Isphardis get an equitable share and,

with all due respect, Talisman would do very well out

of the settlement."

Sarad looked Malum squarely in the eyes for a long

beat. A slow smile that threw every last wrinkle into

relief crept up. "Stop being so damned diplomatic," he

said. "You're an intelligent young man, you've been in

on all the discussions and, unless I miss my guess, you

can think for yourself. You must have some personal

thoughts about the division. In fact I'll warrant you saw

the finished map before I did."

Malum returned the smile. Smiling easily and con-

vincingly was one of his talents. "You're right about

that," he said. "The penmanship on the map is mine.

10 + JOHN LEE

Personally, I don't think the Isphardis will be en-

chanted, but, given their geographical location, I don't

think anything we did would be ideal for them."

"That's as may be. You mean to tell me that you

can't see any other problems?"

The Umbrian shrugged. "Well, it's true that the por-

tion of the Outland allotted to Talisman might be con-

sidered to infringe on Arundel's share, but then again,

they can expand westward across the Unknown Lands

and nobody knows how far that stretches."

"The same could be said of Umbria," Sarad com-

mented dryly, "but I see that she is apportioned the full

width of her present frontier. Do you feel that that's

equitable?"

"I don't know about equitable, but it's certainly log-

ical," Malum retorted.

Sarad's answering smile was tight and had little hu-

mor in it. "I'm afraid that your logic may not go far

enough. There is too much room in this plan for future

disputes."

Mahim's ready smile flashed out again. "I'm not con-

vinced, Thane, that the Commission's job is to ensure

eternal peace. I very much doubt that that is possible-

But don't you think that you're being a little pessimis-

tic? After all, there is so much land out there."

"Oh, come now. Quern, spare me the wide-eyed ap-

proach. Nobody has taken geography into account.

What happens if one nation's territory turns out to be

barren and its neighbor's is fertile? How long do you

think your agreement will hold up?'"

"I am not a Magician, my lord," Malum said, raising

his hands, fingers splayed. "I do not claim to be able to

see the future. We can only go on the best information

that we have—and a great deal of that comes from your

friend Jarrod Courtak. He is, after all, the only man to

have seen this mountain range that is supposed to bor-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 11

der the territory to the north. Think how much more

difficult, the Commission's business would be if we did

know how productive the various areas of the plain

were, or where minerals lay. I think that is all for the

best that the allocation is based on existing borders.

There is less ground, forgive the pun, for dispute that

way and any decision by the Commission is better than

none."

Borr Sarad pursed his lips and shook his head.

"You're wrong, Quern, quite wrong. You have an al-

together too optimistic view of Strandkind." He shook

his finger for emphasis. "We're used to war, though it

isn't popular to say it these days. Mark my words, when

it comes to it, any excuse will do."

"In that case, it doesn't really matter what the Com-

mission decides, does it?" Malum said with another

shrug.

Sarad gave a short laugh. "Cynic," he said.

Footsteps made both heads turn as Jarrod Courtak

entered. The Mage strode across the room, hands ex-

tended with the palms turned out, to greet the Thane.

"Morning, Borr. You all set to vote?" He smiled and

nodded to Malum of Quern.

"Well, if you propose your international idea, I'll vote

for you on the first ballot. After that it'll be every coun-

try for itself."

"History will judge you, you know," Jarrod said

lightly.

"Yes, and I understand that you're the one that'll be

writing it," Sarad replied with a laugh. "I never had to

bother about history when I was Thane and I'm too old

to change my ways now. Besides, I know what my peo-

ple want and what they have earned."

Jarrod shook his head. "It will lead to trouble," he

said.

12 t JOHN LEE

"Anything will lead to trouble," the Thane replied.

"Ask Quern."

Malum and Courtak looked at each other. Jarrod's

face was open, curious, the eyebrows raised in gentle

question. The Umbrian's face was pleasantly unreveal-

ing. He did not like the Mage. He had no overt reason

for it. The man had always been polite, had treated him

as an equal, which was more than could be said for

some members of the Commission, but that hadn't af-

fected Malum's emotional reaction to the Magician.

Part of it was undoubtedly due to an innate distrust of

Magic, some of it to the difference in height.

The Mage was a tall and imposing figure, while

Malum was short and thin. The Paladinian moved with

grace, while the Umbrian was all too conscious of his

imperfections. When it came right down to it, though,

those weren't the real wellsprings of his dislike. Those

were factors that he had schooled himself to ignore. No,

what irked him was the man's assumption of humility,

of ordinariness. All this went through his mind in a

flash; none of it showed on his countenance.

"I simply remarked," Malum said with a deprecating

smile, "that there were so many unknowns on the map

that anything decided now was bound to be challenged

later. The Thane made the very valid point that some

land will inevitably prove less productive. Any country

that finds itself endowed with unprofitable land will be-

come disgruntled, may even cast envious eyes on their

neighbors."

"My point entirely," Jarrod agreed. "It would be so

much better if people of all nations could move freely

about the Outland, settling where they wish. It is clear,

however, that apart from my friend here"—he smiled

and placed a hand on Borr Sarad's shoulder—"my poor

notion is a virtual orphan."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 13

At that moment they were joined by Otorin of Lissen,

now Holdmaster of Ostering.

"Well met, my lords," he said briskly. "You pontifi-

cating again, Jarrod?"

"I wouldn't quite put it that way," Jarrod remon-

strated mildly.

"I admire your persistence, but I'm paid by Queen

Arabella. We both know that."

"Yes indeed," Courtak acknowledged, "but I keep

hoping that the thinking man trapped in the oath will

emerge before it's too late." It was said with humor.

"You have an ability to weight phrases," Otorin re-

turned amiably, "but they are more suited to the broad-

sheets. You must know that my instructions are to vote

for partition."

Otorin of Lissen was a well-built man with a pleasant

but unremarkable face and a dusting of grey in the hair.

He didn't look particularly formidable, but Jarrod knew

that he had considerable influence in both Arundel and

Paladine.

"And if the Commission cannot agree?" he asked

mildly.

"Let's face that jump if the hounds veer that way,"

Otorin said with finality. "Ah, I see the Elector of Es-

tragoth. Give you good morning, my Lord Elector."

His voice was loud and he moved off toward the Um-

brian.

"Good morning, Lissen." The Elector was bird-thin

and stooping. The voice was light and high. He waved

in the direction of Jarrod and the Thane. "These stone

floors are dreadfully cold. D'you suppose they have any

mulled cider?"

It was a familiar complaint and request. Malum was

prepared for it. He went to the hearth and got a leather

jug. He poured a mug of cider, took it to the Elector

and withdrew without a word. He was a part of the

14 + JOHN LEE

furniture again, observing the other Commission mem-

bers as they came in. They all went to the Elector first.

It was, of course, partly politeness. His master was the

oldest person in the room and he was president of the

Commission, but the Elector had always been a magnet.

He had watched the shifting patterns of popularity

over the years. The Arundelian, Lissen, had been a non-

entity at the beginning, but he had worked quietly and

assiduously to build a constituency. The Mage, on the

other hand, had been much courted in the early years

but, once the glamour of his achievements had faded,

had become increasingly isolated. The thought pleased

Malum.

The last of the Commissioners, the Isphardi represen-

tative, entered the room in a blaze of saffron silk. The

Elector took note and cleared his throat.

"My lords," Phalastra's thin voice floated out over

the assembly. "Let us to the table. There is much to do

today."

The old man took his accustomed seat at the head of

the long refectory table. When he had been elected no

one had thought that he would last this long. He had

been old then and it had seemed a fitting gesture, but

he had stubbornly refused to die. He had never offered

to step down and no one was ill-mannered enough to

suggest it.

"Madam Oligarch, my lords," Phalastra said once

they were all settled, "we are here today to draw the

boundaries for the new territories in the Outland."

He turned his head and nodded to Malum, who got

up and distributed copies of the map on which he had

spent so much time. The delegates had seen the draft,

but it was (he sort of detail that the Elector insisted

upon.

"Now," Phalastra said, "if I have done my job aright,

you are all going to be disappointed, so please do not

THE UNICORN PEACE + 15

all speak at once. I will be the first to admit that the

allocations are not perfectly logical, but that is because

our past and our geography have little to do with logic.

Please try to look at the document from the viewpoint

of the other Commissioners. We all know one another's

positions well enough by now, so please spare us the

obligatory national anthems." There was a touch of

curtness in the voice.

There was silence, broken by an occasional cough

and the squeak of a chair on the polished wood of the

floor. Study it, Malum thought. There are years of notes

John Lee - Unicorn Saga 04 - The Unicorn Peace

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