39. The Missing Piece.
Ubel knew very well that the art of looking into the future was all about balancing the clarity of results with the severity of risks needed to obtain them. Simple auguries, like casting shells and stones or reading entrails involved no risk whatsoever (besides possible objections of the entrails' owner) but even a very talented Seer could not hope to produce more than the vaguest of omens from that. Necromancy, trying to directly wring from the Hellgates visions of the future – or the past, or events happening on the other side of the world – offered knowledge unfathomable for lesser creatures. But trying to tap into minds of the dead meant showing them the way to one's own mind. The old bastard Zarfayn liked to compare it with walking straight into your enemies' camp and hoping that your boldness would cow them. Of course, the old bastard Zarfayn was also the old fool, far too afraid of his own ability. Ubel had surpassed him when still stinking of mother's milk. But the white ferret had to admit that the dangers he warned about were all too real. Facing shades from beyond was not something to be attempted lightly, even by the most capable of minds.
Of course, there was a middle way. Not walking in the midst of your enemies, but listening keenly at their lair, hoping that the darkness would yield a secret or two to you. Most of the lesser seers used it in some shape or form, if unconsciously and erratically, to see glimpses of the future in dreams or having prophetic verses suddenly compose themselves in their heads. The best of the best could control it to a degree, usually by inducing a dreamlike state deliberately. So could Ubel, of course. There still was risk but one of the first things Ubel learned about prophetic dreams was how to shut his mind off from them should they turn into torturous nightmares, so he believed that risk to be rather insignificant. Particularly next to the possibility of finally learning if there was some issue he overlooked, after all.
If there was, there was no knowledge about it in the white ferret's mind when he woke up very early, heart beating rapidly, fur clammy with sweat. What he saw in the dream was the final piece of a puzzle that long bothered him, a puzzle which he knew well and pondered often.
Soon after coming to Ergaph and attaching himself to Kunas and his band, Ubel saw a strange vision related to the mice tribe of the southern shore. In order for Ubel's innermost dream to come true, one mouse of that tribe had to survive until the time when power would be his. But only one. Thankfully that was not hard to arrange, why, things pretty much fell into place by themselves. All he had to do after realizing that not all of that tribe's warriors had surrendered was to nudge Kunas when the king pondered how to repay the persistent mice for all the grief they caused him; and then to avoid advising how to make the Castle Seacrag safely surrounded on the night of Kunas' death so that the last survivor could escape, nothing more strenuous. Then again, Ubel believed that influencing destiny in general worked in this way: not trying to make patterns from scratch, but correcting the emerging ones just a bit in right places. But for a good number of seasons Ubel wondered how the existence of such a thorn in his side as Ewalt the Ghost could ever prove useful to him. Then it did, when the time had come to dispose of the pine marten king, and for a time the white ferret considered the case closed.
Yet it wasn't. And now Ubel saw just where the chain of events that started with Ewalt the mouse striking the alliance with Marroch the ferret was leading. The sorcerer cultivated the image of impassivity and self-control for so long that the mask almost got stuck to his face. Yet now he found himself grinning in the comfortable darkness of his lair. The last power that could plausibly try to stop his army from landing in Southsward was going to have its paws full with its own problems soon enough.
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Good mood remained with Ubel for the whole day, yet there was a sour undercurrent to the overflowing joy. On the days of such hidden triumphs the sorcerer thought that he could understand his teacher. This unbearable itch to boast how wonderfully the threads of his future were coming together, to see somebeast in awe of his talent and intelligence, certainly something like this was the reason Zarfayn decided to take an apprentice. Ubel had no intention of repeating that mistake, but the desire was not easy to will away.
His aides, Sheska the weasel and a pawful of guards he picked for personal escort, were unaware of the conflicting feelings behind their master's façade, which remained as inscrutable as usual as the white sorcerer toured his small domain checking many things, from smithies to food stores, paying visits to many beasts from his own army captains to the corsairs. Sheska was the very image of an enthusiastic servant, but the guards soon started to drag their paws and yawn when they thought Ubel was not watching them, which was less often than they thought.
In any case, even the most vigilant guards probably wouldn't have done better later in that day, when Ubel returned from visiting Enjo Greencloak on board the berthed Sea Princess. To reach the ship one had to cross the harbor settlement, the place that the white ferret always tried to leave behind as soon as was possible without unseemly haste. He loathed this collection of ramshackle taverns and shops, populated in part by slaves set by the king to cater for the needs of corsairs and soldiers, in part by vermin who had more acumen than valor. It was too noisy, too bustling, too full of drunk vermin in search of more drinks, food to gorge themselves upon, or somebeast to share a bed with. He did not want to deign it with attention.
That's why Ubel strode swiftly ahead of his retinue, noticing nothing until an arrow whizzed right past his nose, leaving a tiny scratch and shearing off a whisker, and thudded into the wooden wall of the house to the left of him. The white ferret froze. But Sheska, who trailed a step behind him, reacted immediately.
"Assassin!" she yelled, as she grabbed Ubel and pulled him away from the gap between two houses through which the arrow came. "After him! What are ye waiting for, fools?! He's there!"
Ubel, much less used to meeting the unexpected than most creatures, still remained in shock. Sheska had to shake him to his senses. The white ferret looked around, and saw the back of the last of his guards, disappearing into the passage as they rushed to catch the hapless archer. The thought that now he had only a single weasel to protect him, while the killer might have backup lurking around, occurred to him immediately.
"Lord Ubel! What are yer orders?!"
Before Sheska managed to shake him again, Ubel grabbed her by the wrists. "To the castle! Let's run to the castle! You, shield me!"
There was no second assassin and Ubel even managed to restore his dignified manner before they reached the gates. By the time his guards returned to report that they found nobeast suspicious enough to be deemed the assassin he seemed as cool as before, but beneath the fur his high spirits changed to the blackest wrath.
"Sheska."
"Yes, my Lord?" The weasel bowed hastily, a shade of fear in her usual eagerness to please.
"Find a young slave, preferably healthy and unspoiled. Bring him to my dungeon before midnight today. If the royal guard I raised from the rags to riches cannot even catch a single foe of mine, then perhaps magic, a curse, will find him or her sooner or later." The sorcerer looked at the apprehensive guards as if suddenly noticing that they still were in the room. "You – get out. And praise the Lord of Fate for the fact you would make poor sacrifices."
The small group of vermin disappeared like smoke blown away by wind, Sheska hesitated for a moment, but rushed after them as soon as Ubel's gaze turned to her.
After the heavy door of the king's chamber closed, Ubel took a few deep breaths trying to calm down and avoid hitting something. If only sacrificing some dolt really was enough to lay a curse! Alas, after extensive experimentation the sorcerer had to conclude: the blood of others was not something that could buy supernatural power. At most, all the death, fear and pain only made the cold beyond somewhat more reachable, easier to attune with one's mind. And Ubel was not entirely sure if even that effect was not a matter of self-convincing. No, the most he could hope for was to play on vermin superstitions, make the assassin nervous and jittery once rumors of the curse inevitably spread across the castle.
"But," he thought, as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, "at least now I know what I missed."
Indeed, it was simple. For a long time Ubel concentrated on the leaders, those vermin who had their sights on the throne. He remained reasonably assured that for the time being they all needed him. But the common soldiers – those he overlooked. And a good number of them certainly bore grudges. If anything could be done about that, finding the unlucky assassin and making a good example out of him was a good place to start.
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Ubel's visit of the Sea Princess left Enjo in a strange mood that evening. The oversized rat was lounging in his chair, his food and drink, served by ever-present Weitla the mouseslave, almost untouched.
Weitla learned to read the captain's moods seasons ago. She was not too surprised when Enjo looked at her and commanded. "Sit. Help yerself."
Disobeying Enjo for the sake of disobedience was not exactly wise. So helping herself was exactly what she did.
After the modest portion of grilled codfish she cut for herself was halfway eaten, the captain finally spoke. "Heard any new an' useful gossip from yer fellows down there lately?"
Weitla shook her head slowly. "Nothing new. More slaves have died at the logging works, that's all."
Enjo had the courtesy to look very slightly embarrassed. "This bloody white ferret wastes beasts left an' right... Anyway, ye ain't seem too happy about old me workin' with him. Why? Ye know this'll end with him an' his captains an' that marten brat feedin' fishes. Shouldn't ye like that, revenge and all?"
"I'll like that if you win, Captain," Weitla answered calmly.
"Hah! An' why, tell me, victory and fate might turn their backs on a beast like meself?"
The mouse considered her answer briefly. Why indeed? What reasons to fear Ubel could she provide besides hearsay, gut feeling and what both Enjo and her long-dead elders considered to be mere superstitions?
"I can't tell for sure if he really commands dark powers, Captain. But think of this: he's a weakling, and any of your crew would mop the deck with three beasts like him, yet he outlived mighty Kunas and now is the most important of Kunas' inheritors. Don't you agree that a beast like this should not be taken lightly?"
Enjo laughed. "Ahhaha! Well said, me dear mousie, but d'ye think this old rat ever took the white scum lightly? By seven roaring seas, d'ye think I'm sendin' ye to hear what his slaves say just because? Naaah, ye're worryn' for no reason. Mayhap when I win, we'd roast the little prince an' his advisor nice and slow, just for what them bastards did to yer tribe, so stop bein' so glum."