Firehand

by Andre Norton

  I Yoroc nodded to himself. That made sense. It would both punish

  opposition and reduce the likelihood of rebellion. The depopulated lands

  could be worked by docile settlers imported from the Mainland…

  "Why?" he asked. "Why this hatred of them and your desire to help

  me?"

  "We aid you because you can accomplish our will. Any more is not your

  concern."

  "There are but five of you…"

  "The remainder of your soldiers would be no more trouble to us than

  those who rode with you today. We would use them in the same manner…

  You have our proposal. Do you accept it?"

  "I have your proposal," the Ton of Condor Hall responded firmly. "I

  shall consider it in my own time. I am the one facing war. You are risking

  your gold, some of your gold. It is my life and my lands that I would be

  chancing. In the meantime, I will have the gold you promised to test to

  confirm that it is genuine."

  "If you will have gold, we shall have payment. Your arms…"

  I Yoroc's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "Our arms and the arms of

  our escort, we keep. However, that carrion is of no further use to us. You

  want blood. Take the three of them as your payment. I shall come again

  soon if I decide that we have more to say to one another."

  6

  MURDOCK'S HEART WAS hammering wildly, although his will was

  strong enough to insure that his agitation did not become apparent to

  those around him.

  This was not their first such meeting. His party had traveled the length

  of the island from its southernmost tip where they had landed, carrying

  warning of the danger overshadowing them to those Tons of each region

  whom their studies had named as leaders of the confederation whose

  success they were striving to promote.

  They had met with a good measure of success, for their story was

  strong and the evidence they had brought to corroborate it had been

  expertly prepared. The various domains would see to their arms and

  supplies, and their rulers would meet to discuss the possibility of uniting

  to combat Zanthor I Yoroc should he prove the threat these strangers

  claimed. In so far, the timing of their organization had been advanced by

  crucial months, but no army would actually assemble, much less move

  north, not at this stage. Not one of the southern rulers could be that

  powerfully convinced of the reality of the hordes of mercenaries that would

  all too soon be marching against them.

  Once again, Gordon Ashe had delivered his news and was facing the

  same battery of arguments, but this time, success, or the greatest possible

  success, was essential. They were sitting in Sapphirehold's great hall, and

  facing them was Ton Luroc I Loran and his chief military and civil staff.

  Fail here, and they had blown the whole.

  "I do not hesitate to believe the darkness you impute to the Ton of

  Condor Hall, Healer O Ashean," Luroc said slowly, almost more to himself

  than to his guest. "I am not alone in thinking him no true son of Life's

  Queen, but that he represents such utter peril, that I cannot accept. Good

  though his domain might be in comparison with the rest here in the

  north, it still could not support so great a host of hired swords as you

  describe."

  Ross felt the sour taste of defeat rise inside him. The meeting was going

  the way of all the others, and they would gain no more from it than the

  Ton's promise to stay on the alert himself and put his domain's garrison

  on the alert. That might be enough for the time being in the south, but

  here, they required a more concrete response. Without Luroc's full belief

  and support behind them, they could not begin to do what had to be done

  in order to preserve the domain as a fighting force and, through it, to

  preserve Dominion of Virgin.

  Damn it to every version of hell he had ever heard described, what was

  the matter with these people? They had no trouble imagining that one of

  their kind could seriously consider annexing their lands by force of arms,

  but to a one, they could not bring themselves to believe that he could

  secure the means to carry his plans to fruition. By the time Zanthor taught

  them otherwise, it would be too late for everyone except the would-be

  conqueror himself.

  His eyes burned in his impatience. "You're wrong, Ton," he said

  suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the speakers. "Condor

  Hall can hire mercenaries and has hired them, and they'll stay long

  enough to fulfill its ruler's aim if we don't move at once to thwart him. It'll

  be too late to do that in even a few more weeks."

  Murdock knew he had breached custom in addressing the Ton and the

  company assembled with him. Men and the few women who made a

  career of war for any purpose except to secure the safety of their native

  domains were not held in high regard, however quickly their talents were

  sought when reason dictated that they could be of good service. A

  mercenary did not inject his presence into a conference such as this

  unbidden, whatever his rank among his own kind. Eveleen and he would

  not even have been present had their testimony not been required.

  The others there, including his own comrades, looked sharply at him,

  some in annoyance, all in surprise.

  Ross set his hands on the table before him. He had begun. Now it was

  up to him to state his case well. He would have one chance, or part of a

  chance, and nothing more. "I'm a man of war, Ton I Loran, not a manager

  of lands," he went on quickly, while he still had the assembly's attention.

  "Columns, not mere companies, would serve Condor Hall for a short span,

  or longer if their troops were granted the rape of his first, easy conquests

  and their commanders promised rich domains in the south, to be held in

  loyalty to Zanthor, as part of their service contract. There's probably not

  one of us of any significant rank who doesn't occasionally dream of

  winning such a holding, however slight the chance of that's ever

  happening might be in fact. There're men in plenty who'll fight for its lure,

  assuming reasonable interim recompense as well."

  The Ton's expression was dark as he studied the supposed warrior, but

  it was with concern rather than anger. "If that be so," he said at last,

  "what purpose was there in your coming to us? What can a few hundred

  soldiers accomplish against so many, or this joining of the southern

  domains, for that matter, if Zanthor I Yoroc can draw on virtually limitless

  hosts to support him?"

  Ross Murdock smiled. "Not limitless, Ton. The column Commandants

  will serve long-term solely for the promise of land. There are only a finite

  number of domains, north or south, and Zanthor won't want to parcel so

  many of them out, away from his direct control, that he, in effect, would

  only be trading one set of rulers for another.

  "No, you can't meet him in a straight fight. I don't think the whole

  north could even if there was time enough to ready yourselves. It's the

  Confederacy that has to beat him. Sapphirehold's business is to buy Ton I

  Carlroc time, and to preserve our own h
ides while we're doing it."

  Luroc's heavy brows raised. "Preserve our hides?" he echoed.

  The Time Agent shrugged. "It's my plan, Ton I Loran, the only one my

  companions and I believe has any chance of success. It requires a different

  kind of fighting, one that must involve all your people. If you're willing to

  give it a try, I offer my services to conduct it, or at least to prepare your

  folk for it."

  The other said nothing for several long seconds. "What is your name,

  man of war?" he asked at the end of that time.

  The Terran released the breath he had been holding, taking care not to

  betray the extent of his relief. In asking that he identify himself, the

  Dominionite ruler was giving him leave to enter into serious discussion on

  an equal's footing, thus permitting genuine give and take and open

  argument if necessary. "Rossin A Murdoc, Ton. A Captain of mercenaries."

  "This plan of yours, Captain?"

  Ross described the partisan war he envisioned and the preparations the

  domain would have to make for it to succeed.

  He was greeted by dark scowls when he finished speaking. "You would

  have us cower in the hills like wardwolves, surrender our homes and fields

  without a struggle at all?" demanded a young man, very handsome by the

  flat-faced standard of his race. He was clad in the plain uniform of the

  domain's garrison, and a Lieutenant's stripe ran diagonally across his

  breast.

  "I'd have you fight so you can win. It'll be a costly war no matter what

  you do. Conduct it as I describe, and you'll at least have a chance. You'll

  also more than triple your force, since all the able-bodied population can

  be trained to wage it."

  "As for your dwellings and fields, you couldn't hold them anyway.

  Accept that they're gone until Zanthor's defeated, establish others in

  secret, and put the old ones to the torch when you must to deny Condor

  Hall's forces the use of them."

  "That's easy enough for a landless, homeless man to say," the other

  snapped hotly.

  "Easy or hard, I'm only stating fact. The loss is inevitable. It's up to you

  to decide whether it will work to your enemy's benefit or against him."

  "Be still, Allran," Luroc commanded, silencing the reply the young

  officer would have made. "You offer to lead us, Captain A Murdoc. Are you

  capable of doing so? A man needs two sound hands to fight and at the

  same time control his mount."

  The Time Agent started, for a moment at a loss as to the other's

  meaning. His eyes dropped to his hands then, where they lay clearly

  exposed on the table, to the left with its terrible ridging of scar tissue.

  Among people of this technical level, such burns would probably have

  taken the member itself, much less the use of it.

  He lifted his arm so that all could see it and flexed his fingers several

  times. "It still works," he told the Ton.

  Eveleen Riordan's head raised. "A man with the courage to hold his

  own hand in fire rather than give his enemies their will over him can also

  be expected to have the strength to work with that hand when Life's

  Queen so blessed him as to send him a healer capable of preserving it."

  A good move, Gordon thought. It established Ross as a person of

  considerable fortitude, and it lay to rest before they ever arose any

  questions as to why a full Captain should bind himself for a significant

  stretch of time to the dull and relatively unprofitable business of riding

  escort to a wandering scholar. Gratitude for such a service, which must

  class as a near miracle, would be more compelling than any oath. Eveleen

  herself was posing as Murdock's chief officer, bound to remain with him

  whether he currently commanded the company to which his rank entitled

  him or not.

  The frown did not leave I Loran's expression. "You ask a great deal on

  the weight of your party's word alone, Captain."

  "Benefit only can come to you for following his suggestions," Ashe told

  him smoothly.

  As he had anticipated, the other looked startled. "How so, Healer?"

  "If our warning proves accurate, as we fear and know it must, you shall

  have preserved your people, your stock and crops, and your portable

  possessions. Not only will you have salvaged your fighters, but you'll have

  multiplied their number several times over, and you'll have so positioned

  them that they'll be able to make a major contribution to the defeat of

  your enemy."

  "Truly spoken," the Dominionite man said dryly, "but if these

  mercenary hordes of which you speak fail to materialize, I shall have made

  myself a merry jest for half the domains on this island."

  "On the contrary, Ton I Loran. You'll still profit well. Anyone who

  laughs will show himself to be the fool." The archeologist leaned back,

  clasping his hands before him. Ross half smiled, recognizing a glimmer of

  his old trader technique… "At the very least, you'll gain two harvests, and

  you'll have established fields and farms in the highlands, including the

  necessary dwellings and outbuildings. Should you want to continue using

  them, if only for pasturing your stock, it would be a relatively simple

  matter to move willing families up to take charge of them."

  The blue eyes grew grave. "Less concrete but perhaps even more

  important, whether we're right or wrong, you'll have bound your folk to

  you with a loyalty that would send them through a wall of flame for your

  sake since you took such care to save them before the full scope of the

  danger threatening Sapphirehold was even definitely established."

  Luroc nodded. His eyes fixed once more on Murdock. "You will teach

  my people, Sapphirehold's men, women, and children, how to fight this

  strange kind of war?"

  The agent's mouth twisted as he suddenly recalled Terra's history and

  the countless generations of little ones whose lives had been blighted by

  her eternal conflicts. "The adults," he responded a bit sharply. "We'll leave

  the rest be."

  It had not been a studied answer, but he could feel a change, a

  warming, in those around him. These were not men who sought war, even

  those who served in the domain's garrison. They wanted only to work at

  their various professions and protect their own, and it sat well with all of

  them that this strange fighter cared that their children, at least, should be

  shielded as much as possible from what he believed was soon to come.

  "I'll show you the kind of fighting I mean. Lieutenant EA Riordan will

  handle the basic weapons instruction."

  That last was met with looks of incredulity on every side. It was not so

  much her sex that sparked the reaction, he knew… No one attained rank,

  or survived at all, as a mercenary without being well able to use the tools

  of the profession… It was quite simply her size. Dominion's people were

  big. Every one of the men around them was tall and powerfully muscled in

  proportion, with a stocky, solid build that magnified the impression of

  great bulk. Gordon and he looked no more than adolescents among them.

  Eveleen Riordan seemed like a young girl barely on the threshold of

 
; physical womanhood. He could hardly even blame these strangers for

  doubting her abilities as they obviously did.

  The weapons expert had come to the same conclusion. She smiled at

  Luroc. "I've taught arms use," she explained, "and so am the most logical

  choice to deal with the instruction of beginners. It's your farmers and

  artisans that I'll be teaching, after all. The warriors of your garrison

  already know how to manage a bow and sword and would have no interest

  in coming to me." She stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Unless

  we have some different technique or manner of usage that they might like

  to learn. We come from a distance and may have skills unfamiliar here."

  Murdock studied her speculatively. It had come to him that Eveleen

  fought most of her battles thus, with diplomacy, often accompanied by an

  air of not entirely manufactured shyness or even diffidence at times. It was

  a skill he had best acquire. Fast. One did not win friends and allies by

  stripping men, or women, either, of their pride and standing among their

  own.

  He took up the argument once more. "Previous teaching experience

  aside, I specifically want Lieutenant EA Riordan to handle the weapons

  training. Your folk will be conscious of their lack of experience even after

  they achieve technical competence with their arms. They couldn't be

  otherwise knowing they'll have to go up against hardened mercenaries.

  Eveleeni's small and slight and stands as living testimony of what can be

  accomplished despite the lack of size and enormous strength. It's my hope

  that Sapphirehold's people will be able to carry that lesson over to their

  own case as well."

  The agent leaned back in his chair, much as Gordon had done earlier.

  "It's a given that she's got the necessary skills, but you do have a right to

  see some proof of the fact. Let's go to your training yard and let her send a

  quiver of arrows into a target."

  Allran A Aldar frowned. "You want her to shoot against my men?"

  "No, only to show you that she can shoot."

  Eveleen turned to the Sapphireholder. "What would be the purpose in a

  competition, Lieutenant?" she asked. "I have no reason to try to best your

  men, if I could, and I know those I'm supposed to teach are novices. Why

  should I want to make less of them? It certainly wouldn't do much toward