by Robert Adams
“But for the nonce, old friend, I can see naught else I can do, am I to see the kingdom preserved for my nephew and his sons and theirs. I’ll see to it that all of these strangers are amply rewarded for those services they render the kingdom — land, if they want it, gold, if they prefer. Could anything be fairer than that, I ask?”
“Yes,” said Sir Steev, “although you’d prefer not to hear it. The fair thing would be to allow them to choose freely, their minds unobscured by the craft of the Kleesahk.”
The prince sighed. “Another blunt, honest nobleman today. And I agree with you . . . up to a point. But what you counsel is the one thing that I cannot afford to chance.
“Don’t you see, Steev, with these two-hundred-odd new troops to take command of this glen. I can take two thirds of the present garrison north, along with a good half of the other two garrisons. Not truly large numbers of troops, true, but perhaps enough to tip the balance at a crucial moment . . . and I feel that ultimate test looming closer with every fiber of my body.
“Then, when the outlaws are broken and the man-eating Ganiks have been started moving south, out of our lands and our hair, it will be another matter. Then we will be able to offer free choice to the strangers — either leave unopposed for their own homelands, bearing our sincere thanks and a bit of specie, or take their full oaths to me or to my father and receive lands and possibly a title, if they be gentleborn.”
Sir Steev just shook his head. “I can see why my lord prince feels that he must do as he is doing, of course, but still I like it not. It smacks of treachery, to me, and no good ever came from such underhandedness. But I am your man, as you well know, so I will do as I be bid.”
Prince Byruhn nodded. “I know, Steev, and I appreciate both your honesty and your loyalty. Here is what I want done. As soon as Duke Bili and his folk are on the hip, you are to form up all of the men who don’t have close family ties in this glen. I’ve figured it closely; that will leave some hundred and fifty men of fighting age to aid and be guides for the strangers, with the young’uns and the gaffers manning the gate and the outer defenses; it’s worked before and it will work again, I doubt me not, and it won’t be for long, in any case. I don’t think that even the hard-core outlaws will try to stand against so many armored professionals on those big horses, not they, who are afraid to stand and fight Ahrmehnee even, unless they outnumber them on an order of ten to one.”
Sir Steev frowned. “But the Ganiks are all past-master bushwhackers, and these strangers don’t know the country. for all their skills and equipage and fine horseflesh.”
“Which is why,” Byruhn went on patiently, “every unit of them that rides out of here for whatever purpose will have guides from this glen — men who do know the lay of the land hereabouts. Duke Bili himself is extraordinarily gifted with telepathic abilities and certain other rare mental talents that Pah-Elmuh has recognized and noted, and he also has those two prairiecats, so there’ll be no bushwhacking of him and his immediate party by Ganiks or anyone else.
“As regards the others, well, our Elmuh desires to stay, ostensibly to see the wounded strangers healthy again, but I think his real reason is his desire to stay near to Duke Bili, and I am inclined to agree. I’ll only take four Kleesahk with me, leaving Elmuh and five others here; one or two accompanying each party should preclude any ambushers scoring on them.”
“And what of me, lord prince?” inquired Sir Steev. “Do I ride north with my lord or do I remain in Sandee’s Cot?”
Rather than answering directly, Bynihn asked, but gently, knowing beforehand that it was a sore point with the late middle-aged warrior. “Steev, are you not the only surviving son of the late Count Sandee?”
“Aye,” Sir Steev snapped, his eyes hard and his lips become a thin, straight line. “But never so acknowledged in the count’s lifetime, my lord, not even after your grace knighted me and the old man’s sons got on the right side of the blanket were all slain.”
“Nonetheless, Steev, you know and I know and my father and a goodly number of other folk, as well. Therefore, as you are widely known to be the last living son of Count Sandee, my father and I both agree that it were senseless to allow the title to remain vacant Before I leave this glen. I intend to publicly invest you, old friend, and you will remain here as the kingdom’s Count of the South and, as such, in overall command of the three safe glens, their garrisons and the mobile units between. Is that answer enough to your original question, Count Sandee?” The prince paused, but when no answer was forthcoming, he snapped, “Well, man?”
Poor old Sir Steev gave every appearance of having been clubbed near senseless. He shook his head slowly from side to side and, although his lips moved ceaselessly, no sounds came from between them. At last, he managed to stutteringly mumble, “No . . . but I . . . no, your grace is . . . no, I’m . . . not worthy of such honor . . .”
“Poppycock!” snorted Byruhn. “If I say you’re worthy, if my father, the king, says you’re worthy, who are you to disagree, eh? And we do so say, Count Steev. By fire and Steel, man, you’ve served the kingdom the most of your life, and served well, too, else you’d not be a knight gentle blood or no.”
The old knight had recovered a little, enough at least to speak more coherently. “But . . . but only my sire was gentle-born, your grace, and he never once granted me any kind of . . . and my mother was the daughter of a Ganik slave, got by a common man-at-arms, and . . .”
“And no one of us ever got the chance to choose our mothers . . . or our fathers, either, for that matter,” stated Byruhn baldly. “and the asinine beliefs of these half-mad Ganiks be damned; we have no choice but to play the cards that fickle fortune deals us, be the total hand good or foul. Agreed?”
When no reply was immediately forthcoming, Byruhn clenched his big right band and slammed the side of the fist onto the tabletop to get his companion’s attention. He did.
“Well, do you agree with your overlord or not, Count Sandee?”
“Oh, my dear lord prince,” said Sir Steev, desperation In his voice, “I be but a simple knight-castellan, as your grace must know full well. And I . . .”
“And now I suppose you are going to try to convince me, all else having failed,” chuckled Byruhn, again good-natured. “that you have not the wit and experience to manage properly the holdings of a count. Right? Oh, Steev, Steev, old comrade, we are not fools up in New Kuhmbuhluhnburk, you know. We were aware just who was ordering affairs for the County of the South while old Sandee slipped further and further from reality in his senile dotage. Steev, you’ve been Count of the South for years, in all save name, and it’s high time that you bore the title as well as the responsibility, enjoyed the privileges as well as did the work.
“Now, enough of this argument. You have but a bit ago affirmed yourself to be my man and also affirmed your total willingness to obey my orders, whether you agreed with them or not. All right, it is my will that you be invested with the titles and lands of your late father, that you become and remain for life the kingdom’s Count of the South.
“Do you obey my dictates, Count Sandee? Or do you brand yourself foresworn and your earlier promises all lies?”
Old Sir Steev slipped from his chair to kneel before his prince, his scarred head hung in silent submission.
Byruhu patted the head affectionately. “Good. Now let’s to bed. Tomorrow, we’ll two closet with Duke Bili and his captains and start planning our campaign against the Ganiks.”
* * *
At the appointed hour, Bili and Rahksahnah — who, with their strikers and bodyguards, bad been the only newcomers quartered at the hall, all the rest of the men and women having slept in the tower — strode across the minuscule plain to where the squadron had gathered to await them. Bili noted that all of them appeared fit and well rested and that even a few of the wounded stood among them.
When he had greeted his officers and the two Ahrmehnee headmen, Rahksahnah’s lieutenant, Kahodoot, and the two cats, they but rece
ntly returned from night-hunting in the country beyond the surrounding crags of the safe glen, he summoned his followers to knot closely around him and addressed them.
He told them of the origins of New Kuhmbuhluhn and of the current problems besetting the realm — alien invaders from the north, outlaw rebels here in the south — and then he told them of the princes desire that he and they serve him through the worst of the present crisis as a condotta, its principal mission to be that of smashing the outlaws, then harrying the cannibal Ganiks so severely that they would flee their holdings and leave the Kingdom.
He had told Prince Byruhn that he would leave the final decision to his followers, and he intended to do just so. Therefore, he made no attempt to persuade them one way or the other, simply stating facts, but drawing no personal conclusions from those facts, not that he imparted to them, at least. For he privately faced the fact that the suspicions of the duplicity of the prince he had mindspoken to Rahksahnah last night could be groundless and completely unwarranted. They could simply be bred of his long sojourn in the court and army of a king whom even his staunchest supporters — he had no friends — freely admitted was as devious as a viper. Perhaps he was wrong to ascribe to this Prince Byruhn the amorality of the Iron King.
As he spoke to his followers, he noted concern on many faces. Studying especially the Kindred and Ehleen nobility from the lands of the Confederation, he found what he surmised was anger at being detained and impatience to start back to the border and their homes.
Toward the end of his oration the deep notes of an infantry bugle sounded from the direction of the main gate to the glen; the call sounded to him much like the one used in Harzburk to mark the change of the guard. But with the sounding of that mundane call, a visible stir seemed to pass quickly through those gathered about him, and before he could even finish that which he meant to say he was deferentially interrupted by Lieutenant Brakit.
“My lord, if you please . . . ?”
“Yes, Brakit, you have a question?” asked Bili impatiently, anxious to finish his statements as soon as possible.
“No, my lord,” answered the officer. “It is just that, with my lord’s kind leave, I would serve the prince and New Kuhmbuhluhn. Only peace awaits now in the Ahrmehnee Stahn or in the Confederation, and peace offers no loot and precious little income for a professional soldier.”
A chorus of nods and grunts of agreement and approval came from the other Freefighters. But Bili had fully expected such, and had he been in their places would probably have felt and acted the same. For why ride the hundreds of long dusty miles up to the Middle Kingdoms to find employment when a small war existed right here where they now stood?
But then Vahrtahn Panosyuhn spoke, saying, “Dook Bili, we Ahrmehnee, too, would stand with, ride with, fight with this Prince Byruhn, for these accursed Muhkohee . . . er, Ganiks, are our ancient foes, too. It would be a very good thing for our stahn, the driving of them south and west and away from our border!”
The Moon Maiden, Lieutenant Kahdoot, put in, “I know not how feels in this matter the brahbehrnuh, but she and all the Maidens recall should that slay and drive mad many of our ancestors did these Ganiks. More they slay did back on the Tongue of Soormehlyuhn. And for vengeance these many blood debts now cry. Under the banner of this kingdom, exact the last drop of that vengeance we can.”
So far, it had all gone about as Bili had expected it to go, although far sooner and without the arguments he had anticipated. But now he got the unmitigated shock of his life.
“My lord thoheeks?” Bili recognized the man pushing his way through to the front of the throng as Mikos of Eeahnospolis, a kath-arhrohs — pure-blooded, or at least reasonably pure-blooded — Ehleen who had remained loyal to the Confederation in the late rebellion and had fought for almost a year against his own kin and co-religionists.
The stocky young nobleman — he was some two or three years older than Bili — was as darkly handsome as any Ahrmehnee, and the new, purplish scars — one down big cheek from within his straight hair to the knob of muscle at the angle of his jaw, the other across his square chin — served to impart a rakish, dangerous appearance. Bili recalled that he was the one who had flatly refused to charge the “monster” yesterday morning, but also recalled that his valor could not be questioned on full many another occasion. One of those livid scars came from the second attack of the rebel cavalry during the march into Vawn. Mikos had been one of those valiant few score led by old Thoheeks Kehn Kahr, who had died in that furious melee along with many another. Bili had seen the other scar inflicted, while Mikos was taking part in one of the last assaults against the walls of Vawnpolis.
He raised a hand in greeting. “The doughty heir of Eeahnospolis. I suppose you’re fairly itching to get back home, eh, Mikos? I can’t say that I blame you much; it’s probably full spring down that way, now.”
Mikos nodded. “Aye, lord thoheeks, I long to see my home again, and yesterday this time I would’ve spoken firmly against the Freefighters and Ahrmehnee and Maidens. But I thought hard on the matter in the night, and now I feel some different.
“These Ganiks are a terrible folk; they give new depth and meaning to the word ‘barbarian.’ Such vile creatures should not be allowed to live . . . at least, not anywhere in proximity to decent people. And also, we all owe Prince Byruhn a debt.
“We all would likely be dead or worse by now, had he not come out and brought us back to this safe p]ace, something he had no obligation to do, but did anyway. Nor can many of us forget the miraculous things that his Master Elmuh did and has continued to do for our wounded.
“Why, Lord Vlahkos Kamruhn of Skaht, Vahrohneeskos Gneedos’s younger brother, though still weak, stands in this very throng today, when we all had thought this time yesterday that we were wise to start gathering wood for his pyre. Nor is he the only one; Captain of Freefighiers Tyluh, though not really conscious yet, swallowed some thin broth for Master Elmuh this morning.
“And” Mikos then asked, “did my lord thoheeks not tell us all when we joined him on his dash westward that the High Lord informed him that the Ahrmehnee Stahn will be joining this Confederation of ours?”
All Bili said was, “Yes, Lord Mikos.”
“Then,” asserted Mikos, “what sort of allies would they think us Ehleenee and Kindred to be if we proved more interested in getting quickly back home than in helping them to drive an old and serious menace from their border?”
Then the crowning shock came to Bili of Morguhn. Another chorus — this one all of Confederation nobility, every man jack of them! — of vocalized agreement and quite a few mindspeak beamings from Kindred confirming full assent to the words of Mikos Eeahnospolis smote ears and mind alike.
Never before, in all of his dealings with them, had be experienced or even heard of any aggregation of the hot-blooded, fractious, often-brawling Confederation noblemen agreeing on anything not if given time and leave to “discuss” the issue. Even in the deadly serious meetings of the war council of the High Lord during the march upon Vawnpolis and the subsequent siege, it had often been all that the High Lord, the High Lady, Sir Ehd Gahthwahlt, the ahrkeethoheeks and Bili could do to keep steel from being drawn and used by the proud, stubborn and temperamental thoheeksee of western Karaleenos. What had just occurred here, this morning, was completely unnatural!
Chapter XIV
Despite the incense smoldering atop the coals in the many braziers, the room already stank of death to any with senses unclouded by drugs, but the big old man on the big wide bed still lived, though only the movements of his chest and the occasional flutter of an eyelid gave such notice.
But Bili of Morguhn was not presently in that ancient, injured dying husk on the bed. He was in the young, strong, healthy and vibrant body of the country nobleman he once had been: Bili, Thoheeks and chief of Clan Morguhn, who had fought through the whole of the Great Rebellion with the High Lord Milo and the High Lady Aldora, and had gone on into the bitter campaign in the Ahr
mehnee Mountains . . . and then even farther west into uncharted lands and dangers.
What had brought him back to this weak and dying hulk of aged flesh and brittle bones? He had been happy back there, back then, reliving again the prologue to the most exciting period of his long career, those months of bitter sweet memory, nearly seventy years ago. Then something, someone, had called him back to the present, summoned him back into the wreck that old age and injury had made of that once mighty body, now slowly sliding into death.
Then it came once more, a tentative, questing mental probe. It was familiar, or once had been so; if only his mind were clear . . .
“Bili? Bili of Morguhn? My dear love, do still you live?”
He forced open his veined and sticky eyelids. He could discern little in the smoky dimness of the bedchamber, but could still see well enough to feel certain that no one had joined him here in this room of imminent death. A ghost, perhaps? Piffle! Even with his great and most unusual extrasensory abilities, he never had detected any such thing and was of the firm opinion that ghosts — if they existed at all — existed in the minds of the living. In the mind . . . mindspeak!
“Who calls Bili of Morguhn?” he beamed with a power still undiminished by his physical debility.
“You do still live then, my dear, dear, old love.” There was relief in the dimly perceived beaming. “I . . . I had feared that that I had waited too long, my Bili.”
“My lady . . . ?”
“Yes, love, it’s me, Aldora.”
“Please forgive me for worrying you, my lady. It’s the drugs of the Zahrtohgahn, they ease pain but also serve to cloud the other senses, to greater or lesser degrees. And, too, I . . . my mind was a-journeying far back in time, to the time just after the Great Rebellion, when . . .”
