Clan and Crown j-2

by Jerry Pournelle

  Elliot came out grinning. He was holding a portable typewriter. "Carbon paper, too!" he shouted in triumph. "And a Carl Gustav recoilless."

  "Just like Christmas," Rick answered with a grin. He didn't move from his place in the circle of light. "Tylara-they didn't say you have to stay here," he said softly.

  "They did not," she answered.

  "Hey, I love you."

  "I think perhaps you do," she said. She squeezed his arm.

  "Talisker Scotch!" Elliot shouted. "And Rennault fifty-year-old cognac! Can't say they don't pay for what they get!"

  Oh, they pay, Rick thought. They understand about not binding the mouths of the kine that tread the grain. But they won't take us home, and they gave us damned little choice about coming here.

  The ship was unloaded, and most of the gear sent down the mountain on mules. The hatch closed, but the bright light from near the top of the ship continued to flood the bill with yellow light. Then the whine rose in pitch and became louder and louder. The ship seemed to lift slightly. It hung for a second, then rose swiftly and almost vertically into the dark sky.

  "It is gone," Tylara whispered. "I had-you had told me. But until I saw-"

  Rick laughed. "I know," he said. "Back on Earth I wouldn't have believed it." And I knew about airplanes, and radio, and- "Rick." Tylara spoke quietly, but there was an urgent note in her voice. She tilted her head. "Look." His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, and at first he couldn't see what had alarmed her. Then it became clear. There was a man standing beyond where the ship had been. He wore a Burberry raincoat and Irish tweed hat, and beside him stood a plain Samsonite suitcase. An instrument about the size of a small briefcase hung from a strap over his left shoulder. It glowed with faint lights from dials on its face.

  The man waved. "Hello, Captain," he said.

  It was Les.

  "He is but a man," Tylara whispered.

  "Yes. He is the human pilot who brought us to Tran."

  "You know him-then he is-"

  "Yes. The father of Gwen's child. Tylara, do nothing. Say nothing, except to be polite. I don't know why he's here_but that box he's carrying can talk to the ship, and that ship could destroy this whole world."

  "But if the box were destroyed?"

  "Then those in the ship would do whatever they wish."

  "I see." She released her grip on his arm and fell silent.

  "Sergeant Elliot!" Rick shouted.

  "Sir!"

  "Clear the hill. Move everyone out, then come back for me."

  "Sir."

  "Sorry about the housekeeping," Rick said. He moved toward Les. "Welcome to Tran."

  The pilot nodded. "It appears that you have come up in this world since last we met."

  Cold, Rick thought. Cold and haughty, as if he is master here. I suppose he is. "Let me introduce you to my wife. Tylara do Tamaerthon. Countess of Cheim and Justiciar of Drantos." He used English and spoke rapidly despite Tylara's frowns.

  "Making you what?" Les demanded.

  "Eqeta-that's count-"

  "I know the title."

  "Eqeta of Cheim, and Captain-General of Drantos." No need to tell him about Tamaerthon at all. Or the Roman alliance. Let him find out for himself-or not find out, which would be better.

  "Ah. But I forget my manners." The pilot turned to Tylara and extended his hand. After a moment she gave him hers, and he bowed and kissed her fingers. "I am honored to meet you, Lady Tylara," he said. His accent was not good, but the language was recognizably Tran local.

  Usually Tylara was as resistant to male charm as a suit of armor, but she smiled warmly and thanked the starman. An act, Rick wondered? Or was she really impressed? Les was certainly handsome enough, and trying to be charming, but-still- "How long will you be with us?" Rick asked.

  "That depends," Les said. "I've come for my wife.

  Gwen must have told you I would come."

  "She wasn't always sure she believed you," Rick said.

  "Ah. Yeah, she had a right to her doubts," Les said. "That's over now. Where is she?"

  "She didn't tell you?"

  Les eyed Rick thoughtfully in the dim-light. "So she told you she has a transceiver," he said. "And you want me to believe she's alive and it's working."

  "She's all right, and the transceiver works to the best I know," Rick said. "I take it Gwen didn't answer you, then."

  "No. Now where is she?"

  "That sounds very much like a demand."

  Les shrugged. "Take it any way you-no. Eqeta Galloway; I would count it a very great favor if you would conduct me to my wife."

  "A couple of questions, first," Rick said. "As for example-do your employers know you're here?"

  Les looked startled, then laughed. "I take it you mean, did I jump ship? No. My landing is-authorized, and the time I Will stay on Tran is up to me."

  And I can believe as much of that as I want to, Rick thought. But there's no point in standing here on a hilltop. "Welcome to Cheim. I trust you will do us the honor of being our guest."

  "Thank you. But now that I've answered your question-where is my wife?"

  Persistent chap, Rick thought. And maybe not quite as cool as he wants us to think- "The Lady Gwen is well," Tylara said. "And your son is safe and well and under our protection." The light was too dim for Rick to be certain, but he thought the pilot's face showed joy. His voice, though, remained unchanged. "My son. What did Gwen choose to name him?"

  "Les," Tylara said.

  Les turned to Tylara, but before he could say anything, she said, "The Lady Gwen is married to Lord Caradoc do Tamaerthon, a knight in my service. He is one of our most trusted captains, and my husband and I are very much in his debt."

  "Married," Les said.

  "Last autumn," Tylara said. "She believed that you were dead or had forsaken her."

  "Well, I'm not, and I didn't," Les said. "And now I'd like to see her. If you please." His voice grew more stern. "Do you think I'd have come back to this-to Tran-for any other reason?"

  Tylara shrugged. "I do not know the duties of those who serve the-Shalnuksis."

  "So. You've told her everything," Les said.

  "Shouldn't I?" Rick asked.

  "I don't know." Les shrugged.

  "It's walk, ride, or wait all night until I can send for a sedan chair," Rick said.

  Les laughed. "I'll ride, if the horse is tame."

  "It's a mule," Rick said. "More surefooted for this mountain trail. And it's certainly gentle enough. All right, Sergeant Major. Lead the way. Sergeant Frick will bring up the rear. And spread right out, gentlemen."

  "Yes, sir," Elliot said. He rode on ahead, and Frick dropped back, so that Rick, Tylara, and Les rode alone.

  "You have them well trained," Les said.

  That didn't seem worth answering, and Rick said nothing. The trail was steep and frightening if you didn't trust the mules; the trick was to let the animals pick their own way and pace. Les seemed to be doing that.

  They reached the bottom, and the trail widened. "All right," Les said. "Where is Gwen? And this- Caradoc."

  "Lady Gwen is-in another part of the country," Rick said.

  "And Lord Caradoc is a soldier," Tylara continued. "He is with the army in the west."

  "Hah. Good battle, that," Les said.

  "You watched?" Tylara asked. "But-" She fell silent.

  "Saw some of it," Les said. "So. That's fortunate. Lord Caradoc is off to war, and Gwen is home alone. Good. If he stays out of my way, I won't go looking for him. No trouble at all, that way."

  "He is her husband by Tran law," Rick said. And that sounds foolish.

  "And I'm her husband by Earth law," Les said. "Does he have more right than me?"

  You don't have any rights at all, Rick thought. You certainly didn't marry her. But it will be better to pretend.

  "The case must be heard by the priests of Yatar," Tylara said. "Do you not understand? The Lord Caradoc is our captain. A knight sworn to our service-"
>
  "And under our protection," Rick said reluctantly. Christ, this is going to be rough.

  "I have no wish to shame the man," Les said. His words came slowly, as if forced. "Nor-nor do I bear him ill will."

  The hell you don't, Rick thought.

  "I do not wish to be disrespectful of your law," Les continued. "But I will see my wife."

  "She is far from here," Tylara said. "The roads are poor, bandits are numerous, and our army has been sent against the Westmen. It will be no easy journey, and we would do the Lady Gwen an ill service to send you without proper escort-"

  Les laughed, a short sharp sound. "An escort won't be needed," he said. "Tell me where to go, and I can call the ship."

  35

  There were only the three of them at Rick's conference table. Tylara sat at his right, and Sergeant Elliot on his left, leaving the long table nearly empty.

  Like to have more, Rich thought. But who? Art. Larry Warner. Maybe one of them could think of something- "If you're going to let her know, you'd best get the message out now," Elliot said.

  Rick nodded. The semaphore line to the University wasn't finished. Messages had to go part way on horseback, and even with relay stations spaced Pony Express style that took time. "I think we won't," he said. "What could I put in a message, even a coded one?"

  Elliot gave him a significant look. So did Tylara.

  Yeah, Rick thought: "Keep your pants on." I can just see me sending her that message. Hah.

  "You learn anything from him?" Elliot asked.

  "Not much we don't know," Rick said. "The council or whatever it is that governs the Confederation is still divided over what to do about Earth, and doesn't seem to know about Tran. Which means the Shalnuksis have a free hand, but we don't have — to worry about the council sending the galactic navy. Not just yet, anyway."

  He took Tylara's hand for a moment. She gave an answering half smile. He'd spent three hours trying to explain what he knew about the millennia-old galactic confederation and its human Janissaries, but she still didn't understand. That's all right, Rick thought. I don't either. And what the hell, Tylara has more experience unravelling plots than I do. Maybe she can understand a confederacy of a dozen or more star-faring races. According to Les, they haven't changed in five thousand years, mostly because of human slave soldiers.

  It sounds nutty. It would sound nuttier if I didn't know the Turks used slave soldiers and administrators to run their empire. They called them Janissaries, and their empire stayed together for centuries.

  "What about that Agzaral guy?" Elliot asked. "Is he on our side?" -

  "Don't know. Les won't say much about him. One thing's sure, he's playing a deep game," Rich said. "He knows about Tran, but his bosses don't. Yet he's a cop. Or something like a cop, anyway." Rick shrugged. "I don't even know how much Les knows. Maybe he'll tell us more."

  "Yeah, if he lives long enough," Elliot said. "Christ, Cap'n, why'd it have to be Caradoc he's gonna put horns on? Nobody else is near that popular with the army. Even the mercs like him."

  Tylara frowned. "Is it so certain that Lord Caradoc will be dishonored? Why do you think so ill of the

  Lady Gwen? Surely she knows what must be."

  How do I answer that? Rick wondered. No way to tell her how I know. "Girls on Earth do not think as the women on Tran do. Les was her first love, and he will be insistent. Yet, you may be right. It may be that Lady Gwen will refuse his advances, at least until the case can be heard by a court."

  "Fat bloody chance," Elliot muttered.

  "You have knowledge?" Tylara asked.

  "Some," Elliot said. "Look, I don't want to tell tales, but before she married Caradoc-"

  "Yeah?" Rick demanded.

  "Well, one night I heard shots from her room," Elliot said. "I came in to find Gwen breathing hard, Larry Warner with his hideout pistol, and Caradoc waving a bloody big knife. They straightened it all out, but-"

  "But she is not a chaste woman," Tylara said.

  "It's not that simple," Rick protested. "Different cultures, different-"

  "I am more concerned with consequences," Tylara said coldly. "If the Lady Gwen cannot use proper judgment, then we must save her from her folly. And save the University, which is such a great part of what our children will inherit." -

  Damn all Tran dynasts, Rick thought. But she's right.

  "My love, we both know Caradoc. He has alwa-ys been quick to defend the right. Not his right alone. Ours as well. But my lord husband, my love, even now the Tamaerthan troops are returning. Caradoc will soon be here, and if he is wronged, if his wife has dishonored him, he must act! He will challenge Les."

  "He'd probably lose," Elliot said. "I don't know what Les carries, but it's sure to be as effective as our pistols. Remember Art Mason's story? The walls of the ship shot him when he threatened one of the Shalnuksis."

  "And Les and the other humans are warriors," Rick finished. "Janissaries for the Galactic Confederacy." He laughed. "I don't want to believe that."

  "Evidence is pretty convincing," Elliot said.

  "Didn't say I don't believe it," Rick said.

  Elliot laughed.

  Tylara waited until there was silence. "It matters little whether Lord Caradoc wins or loses. He will insist upon his rights in this matter. He will insist that we come to his aid, or avenge him if he is killed."

  "Army'll be on his side," Elliot said. "Hell, Cap'n, suppose Les kills Caradoc. You know damn well what you'd have to do."

  "Yes." Kill Les. Or be a lord who's broken faith with his followers. My name will stink from the Westscarp to Rome. Caradoc's relatives will want my blood-Padraic! My own bodyguard.

  "Do you see difficulties I do not?" Tylara asked. "We are two. We both have pistols. Les is only one. I saw no weapon upon him, but suppose he has? He can be killed. At this moment he is guest under our roof, but that need not be forever. We swore no permanent oath to him."

  "You don't know what you're saying! You can't know what his ship will do," Rick said.

  "There is no one in it," Tylara said. "I asked him. It could be a lie, but I do not think it was."

  "Nor do I," Rick said.

  "Then he controls the ship with that box. When we have killed him, we will take the box and use it," Tylara said.

  "Won't work," Rick said. "There are-codes. One is obvious-he will not use English to speak with the ship. And smashing the box won't work, since we don't know what orders he gave the ship before he sent it up. He had plenty of time, after all."

  "But what can a ship do?" Tylara demanded. "A ship with no master?"

  "A lot," Rick said. "First, it will report to the next ship that comes. God knows what it'll tell them, but it can watch everything we do. It'll sit up there in the sky and watch us, and take pictures, and when the Shalnuksis come it'll tell them everything."

  "And then comes skyfire," Tylara said thoughtfully.

  "Unless we can work with Les to prevent it," Rick said. "One thing's sure. We won't learn anything from anybody else. Les is the only chance we have to talk the shalnuksis out of bombing this place back to the stone age. Why would he try, except for Gwen? Yet, with his help, what we have built, the knowledge we will leave our children, might withstand even skyfire. The Shalnuksis might be induced to bomb the wrong places. But that's only if Les helps."

  "And yet, all know what a debt we owe to Caradoc," Tylara said. "His honor is ours. You speak of what we will give our children. Do you wish to give them an inheritance of dishonor?"

  Yatar, Jehovah, Christ, somebody, tell me how to answer that. Please.

  Tylara sighed. "You have no answer. Nor have I. It seems that now we are both called upon to do more than we can do. Lord Elliot, have you advice?"

  "No, lady," Elliot said. "We need Caradoc, and we need Les. But it looks like one's going to kill the other, no matter what. Hell, it wouldn't settle anything if Gwen dropped dead! She's the only thing Les cares about-"

  "There is his child," Tylara said tho
ughtfully. "If the Lady Gwen were dead, there could be no quarrel-"

  "Seems to me a man would be more likely to work for his wife than for a kid he's never seen," Elliot said.

  "And we need Gwen if we're going to have a University," Rick said.

  "You are certain?"

  "Yes, I'm certain, dammit! And do you think I owe Gwen any less than we owe Caradoc?"

  "I see." Tylara sighed once more, then stood. "I will not swear to lay no hand on Les forever," she said. "But I will swear to let him take us safely to the University, and stand apart from his first meeting with the Lady Gwen." She gave a shaky smile. "I think if I did not swear this much, you would guard Les night and day with your Colt in your hand. Even against me."

  No answer to that, either. "That's a good start." And-Gwen didn't get any messages from Les. Meaning what? Maybe her transceiver's busted, but maybe she isn't listening. Maybe she's in one of her moods- "He done me wrong and then run off and left me." When she's like that, she wants his cojones on a spear, and if she stays that way long enough for Caradoc to come back and make her realize that she's got to be sensible…

  Maybe. It's a slim chance.

  But everything else looks like no chance at all.

  This time the ship tilted slightly as it landed on a patch of softer ground. The whining sound grew louder and increased in pitch, and Les frantically manipulated dials on the box he carried. The ship righted itself.

  Les inspected it critically, then seemed satisfied. "Okay, wait there," he said. Then he seemed to catch himself. He turned to Tylara. "With your permission, my lady, I'll go open a hatch."

  He disappeared around the stern.

  Tylara glanced at Rick, then stared at the ship. They stood together in the field, with only the Fire-stealer to give light. Tylara's lips were set in a grim line.

  She's scared of skyfire, Rick thought. Well, so am

  I. The interesting part is that Les is nervous. These ships must be vulnerable. Not likely I'll learn how. Not likely the troops will see anything. But they might…

  He had every merc with binoculars stationed around possible landing sites, and he'd been lucky. Elliot was out there watching this one.