The Father of Lies by K. J. Parker

Author:K. J. Parker [Parker, K. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-30T23:00:00+00:00

SAME OLD SAME old for the villagers and nomads of Mysia. Out of the early morning mists emerged a column of armoured men, their footsteps barely audible on the thick leafmould. King Carduan IV wasn’t at home when we called; he never is when people invade his kingdom. He has barges moored ready all the time, with the royal treasury stowed aboard. He’s not bothered about anybody stealing it. After so many wars and occupations, there’s not enough there to make it worth the effort. The royal guard stayed home, their wives busily weaving baskets to sell to the foreigners.

Our forces occupied the Citadel. It’s an amazing thing, if you like military architecture (I must confess I do, though purely on an aesthetic level). It was built by the Eastern empire, back when they were the invaders du jour. They chose a flat-topped mountain, actually a dormant volcano; there’s a rainwater lake up there on top, natural hot water. The defensive walls are built out of huge rectangular blocks of black lava, fifteen feet thick at the base. There’s a curtain wall, a boiling—seriously—moat, an outer wall and an inner keep. There’s fifteen acres of storage sheds for food and equipment. The circumference of the curtain wall is three miles, but four hundred men could hold it indefinitely against the world, assuming they’ve laid in adequate supplies. It won’t come as a surprise to learn that the Citadel has never been taken, by storm, siege or treachery. Come to that, it’s never been attacked. It’s been voluntarily evacuated and abandoned nine times, but that’s different.

He got me to fill the barns with sacks of flour and barrels of salted bacon, while Alban’s sappers made a few minor repairs to the drawbridge. The Mysians don’t come near the place ever, except to loot the food stores when an invader leaves. They know it’s nothing to do with them. Also, I think they know it’s a volcano, a fact which appears nowhere in the military libraries of the surrounding nations.

Alban kept trying to report to me for orders, even though he knew perfectly well who was in charge. He was trying to make himself believe this was a normal, businesslike military operation, and that he wasn’t working for a lunatic. “Do you anticipate any hostile activity from the King?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “Usually when there’s an invasion he goes and stays with his cousin the seed-merchant, just across the border,” I said. “I gather he prefers it there to here. The Mysians won’t bother you at all. Particularly if you buy their baskets.”

He nodded. “What are we doing here?”

“Don’t ask me.”

The customer is always right; if we had a physical headquarters, that would be written up on the wall in golden letters. But you can’t help speculating. Why would a man want to invade a country? The primeval will to power, maybe, or perhaps he likes watching the way blood changes colour when it soaks away into the dust.

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