"Or mine," I added, hunching over with my arms folded tightly, and trying to shrink.
"Who will ride with Commander Halland tonight, as he does battle with the warmongering, imperialist, royal establishment sorcerers from Lupan in the second cylinder? Who will stand with him to defend your homes and loved ones against the deadly heat weapon of the Lupanians? Brothers! Who of you is with Commander Halland? He needs a dozen brave volunteers who have not been chosen to ride with the baron tomorrow! Who is with him?"
Seven dozen hands shot into the air, and there was a great deal of cheering. The militiamen swarmed up the steps, and Riellen was lost to view as they all tried tt) volunteer. Presently Halland was forced to expand his contingent of volunteers tenfold, owing to the threat of a riot if anyone was left out. It was a little more than my nerves could cope with.
"The baron might not approve of you raising such a large force," I pointed out later as I stood in Halland's office while he drew up lists and scribbled on maps. "He yants all the glory for himself."
'The baron could not find his arse with a tractker dog, In spector!" muttered Halland. "Who do you think really keeps this town running and in good order?"
"Oh, the constables and militia," I replied tactfully.
"One hundred and twenty men. Perhaps we should take half a dozen flamethrowers. There's twelve on the wharves, so six could be left for the town's defense. Some cavalry would be useful if we need to move our forces quickly. I don't suppose you could assassinate the baron and take command of his riders?"
"The idea appeals, but no."
>: >:
The baron's provosts arrived to escort me back to the castle, but there was one task left to me before I left the town. I made my way to the house of Norellie, the witch healer. I was hoping that Lavenci had by now examined the samples as well, as she was a sorceress from an academy, not just some hedgerow healer. To my surprise, Mervielle admitted me when I knocked at the door to the little cottage. She looked uneasy.
"Madame Norellie asked me to help, like," she said. "Fetchin' from the market, cleanin', carryin', all those things that serving maids are good at."
"Do you know if they've learned anything?" I asked.
"No, but that Norellie's been doing complicated stuff in the kitchen all afternoon," she explained. "And she's worried. I get nervous when clever folk are worried."
Norellie was transformed. Gone was her scrubbed, wholesome look, for her face was smeared with soot and her eyes were red-rimmed from the fumes that hung on the air. The floor, stools, and table were littered with bottles, jars, papers piled with powders of every color in the rainbow, and scrolls covered in symbols. Lavenci was sitting at a corner of the table, dressed in her riding gear again.
"She's burned her dancin' clothes of real silk," whispered Mervielle. "Burned everythin' that she wore while dancin' with young Pelmore. Don't seem sensible."
Lavenci was writing on a sheet of reedpaper. Three stones, an inkwell, and a goose quill were arranged neatly in front of her. Her left hand was heavily wrapped in bandages, with not even her fingers visible. She looked up and smiled as I entered.
"Welcome, Inspector," she said. Then she returned to her writing.
"That orange material, it's not of this world!" said Norellie in an urgent, awestruck tone.
"I'd worked that out for myself," I replied impatiently.
"Danolarian, this is no joke. Its feel and its aura ire different to anything I've ever come upon, my spells and castings cannot touch it. I ground some of it into dust, added waiter, and had it fired in a neighbor's kiln. Once fired, it can scratch glass."
"It would have to be strong, to withstand the stresses of the flight from Lupan," I concluded. "What else?"
"Nothing. I am a healer, this is the sort of thing that even the greatest of sorcerers could not begin to guess at. I've been hard at work with all the alchemical skill that I can muster, but , it's hopeless."
' "How is Lady Lavenci's hand?" I asked.
"It took thirty-one stitches to close the wounds, and most of the bones behind the fingers have been crushed. She has maimed herself forever."
"My hand has learned its lesson, Inspector," said Lavenci, looking up from her writing again. "It will never slap you away again." Her voice was cool and level, as if all emotion had been washed from within her.
"My lady, that was not necessary," I said, going down on one knee and bowing.
"You esteemed the others more greatly, you need not explain the inclinations of your hearts."
Lavenci shook her head.
"There can be no excuse for what I did, Inspector. Words are so cheap, I shall not insult you by wasting them—but enough of that. I have the measure of the Lupanian weapon."
"You?" asked Norellie. "But you have only been writing for all this time."
"Look at these rock samples," said Lavenci, paying her no heed. "This is blackstone struck by lightning, and this is blackstone from coastal Torea—it was melted by the last of ; the fire-circles that destroyed the continent. Mervielle got them for me at the amulet stall in the town market. Compare them with the chip that the Lupanians melted on lhat tower."
'The lightning-struck piece is the least impressive, and the melt on the other two is about equal," I observed.
"Not so. The fire-circles that burned Torea each burned for perhaps a quarter minute, then the heat was many hours dispersing. How long did the Lupanians take to sweep the field with their heat weapon?"
"A quarter minute also, perhaps less."
"One mile, times twenty-two, divide by seven, double... over six miles. What width was the melted area?"
"Less than an inch."
"Assume a circle, one-inch diameter... a quarter minute is one part in two hundred and forty from one hour ... the beam swept the tower at one and one half thousand miles per hour. One and one half thousand, five thousand two hundred and eighty, twelve inches ..."
Norellie and Mervielle were huddled together by the door, not understanding much, but looking fearful.
"Roughly ninety-five million inches in a quarter minute, and that's fifteen seconds," said Lavenci slowly and deliberately.
"All those big figures, they're fair making my head spin," declared Norellie.
"I know, the figures are almost meaningless they're so large," said Lavenci.
"Fifteen seconds for the outer fire-circle over Torea, and this happened." She held up the chip of half-melted blackstone.
"Lavenci, I can't stay!" I pleaded as she calculated. 'The baron's provosts are outside, waiting to take me back to the castle. What have you discovered?"
"Danol, that heat beam swept over this blackstone with six hundred thousand times the intensity that the Torean fire-circles had." I swallowed. "Six hundred thousand?"
"Approximately. Allowing for some rounding. Give or take ten thousand or so."
"Er, is that six hundred and a thousand?" asked Norellie.
"How much is a thousand?" asked Mervielle.
"Six hundred repeated a thousand times over," I explained as I struggled to link that figure to something closer to the reality that I was used to. "The baron seems to think that polished steel shields will reflect it away," I said weakly. "He
intends to charge the Lupanians with kavelars o|n horseback holding polished shields."
Lavenci gave me a cold, intense stare.
"The metal of the shields will explode like drpps of water striking a white-hot horseshoe in a smithy's forgej."
There was no reply I could make to that. We have since learned that the beam is much wider close up, but focuses to an inch at one mile, then widens again thereafter. Thus Lavenci's figures were for the worst possible case, but even the best case was not much better.
'The bodies in the field did look as if they had exploded," I recalled.
"1 rest my case," said Lavenci. "Oh, and my feeling is that the orange ceramic material transforms very slowly under intense heat, and was probably used to protect thefir porcelai
n voidcraft as it streaked through our world's air." I tried to think through what she was saying, but concluded that none of it could help us.
"Lavenci, the provosts are out there because the baron is taking me along for the charge against the cylinder," I explained. "How can we fight these things?"
She made a slight gesture, as if she wanted to take me in her arms but had remembered what the constancy glamour would do to her. She shook her head slowly.
"You cannot, Danolarian. Their power is beyond comprehension. You will die, and I shall mourn you."
A provost's whistle sounded in the street outside.
"Lavenci, ladies, I must go!" I cried.
'TJanol, no!" Norellie cried. "The baron's cavalry charge will be suicide."
'The baron is insisting on having an advisor wrjo knows the enemy. That man is I."
"You had better tell the baron that the enemy could take on the ether machine that destroyed the entire continent of Torea with a passably good chance of winning," said LaVenci.
A whistle sounded from the street outside, and a voice shouted, "Provost's first call for Inspector Danol Scryverin!"
"Ladies, at the third call I'll be considered under arrest!" I said urgently.
"Look, forget about me, try to help fTommander Halland. He is going to use flamethrowers wheri the second
cylinder opens. If he's fast, he can roast the crew once the hatch unscrews, before they get a chance to use their heat weapon."
"Those in the first cylinder seem a little better prepared by now," said Lavenci. "You will be rendered into a rapidly dispersing puff of smoke."
"You need to carry a favor into battle," said Mervielle. "Do you have one?"
"Who from? Riellen? Talk sense."
"You need favors, from all of us!" cried Mervielle. "All the good wishes that you can carry. Here."
"This is a dishcloth," I said as she tied the cloth to my arm.
"Where's something that's mine, look at this mess," muttered Norellie. "A scarf, headband, handkerchief, anything]" She hitched up her skirts to display a plump but shapely pair of legs. "Here, take these!"
"A pair of drawers?"
Two blasts from the whistle outside heralded the cry "Provost's second call for Inspector Danol Scryverin!"
"I would like to tie my scarf to your arm, Inspector," said Lavenci, twirling her ragged scarf, "but I cannot touch you without being ill. Besides, I only have one good hand. A favor cannot be validly given unless tied by a lady's hands. Will you take my advice instead?"
"Please, speak."
I was seeing Lavenci as I had never seen her before: strong, sharp, and cool while everyone else was running about with their hands in the air.
"Fall from your horse as soon as the charge begins. Trust me, none of the others will live long enough to accuse you of cowardice." A moment later I was dashing through Norellie's door as the whisde began to sound again.
"Provost's third and last call for Inspector Danol—" "All right, all right, here I am."
"Two sweethearts?" asked a provost, eyeing the dishcloth and pair of drawers tied to my arm in the torchlight.
"Need all the good wishes and favor I can get," I muttered as I mounted my horse.
ml . B Chapter Eight
THE FIGHTING BEGINS
The only good aspect of being among the baron's chosen warriors was that I was given k very good, if hasty, dinner. Next I was then fitted out with moderately expensive chainmail, helmet, shield, and greaves. I declined the offer of a lance.
"But it's a gentlemen's weapon, and the baran gave you leave to bear one," declared the armorer.
"Maybe so, but I am not a gentleman," I replied. "The fencing ax is my weapon."
Although technically I am of the nobility, I thought with a grim sort of satisfaction, but a fat lot of good that will do for any of us. We set off in the dark, following a pair of lancers who were carrying torches. The baron had me ride beside him, and tell him every detail of the massacre that morning, r^o amount of detail about the Lupanian's overwhelmingly superior weapon could dissuade him from carrying the attack throiigh, however. We reached Bald Pate Hill an hour or so after mjdnight. Here we dismounted, wrapped ourselves in blankets,! and slept in our armor, under the stars, until dawn began tcj glow at the eastern horizon. I was roused by the baron Himself, who wanted to check the disposition of the enemy before attacking. Anyone who has ever slept in chainmail over a tunic of quilted felt padding half an inch thick will know how very wet and clammy the cloth can become. I was shivering, miserable, and smelly as we mounted up. The baron led th£ way up the shallow side of the hill. He surveyed the field losing my farsight while I sat unhappily on a warhorse that I c(j>uld not have bought with a year's wages. Even without the farsight, I could see that the Lupanians had thrown up earthworks around their cylinder. The baron reported that the arm with the farsight device was still on watch, but he did not seem very impressed with his first view of the Lupanian stronghold. Glancing behind us, I saw that his six score horsemen were by now mounted and waiting at the base of the hill. They were, of course, still hidden from the Lupanians. The edge of the sun finally rose above the eastern horizon.
"Good, good, the sunrise is right behind our line of charge," the baron declared as he concentrated on the pit area. "Not very savvy on defenses, are they? No pike walls or horse trap trenches, and no archers to break the charge. All they have is tentacles, you say?"
"And an invincible heat weapon," I reminded him.
"Oh that!"
"A heat weapon that makes a smithy's forge seem no warmer than a hot water bottle after a very long and frosty night."
"Well, I've campaigned in the Acrema deserts, I know all about heat. That thing on the arm, is that the sentry?"
"It seems to be an eye and farsight, all in one."
"It sweeps the field every half minute or so. Inspector, I have a cunning plan. We wait until it has just finished sweeping Bald Pate Hill, then charge. It will be another half minute before it is looking in our direction again, and by then we shall be upon them."
"The fight will be over quickly—" I began.
"Well, more is the pity."
For the Lupanians, passed through my mind, but I knew there was no point in saying it aloud.
"It will be too easy, no glory will be ours," continued the baron.
"The fight's history is told by the victor's chronicler," I said smoothly, snatching desperately at a chance to stay alive. "Tell your chronicler to embroider it a little."
"Chronicler, sir? I have no chronicler. The wife takes care of writing matters."
"Well then, where is the baroness?"
"Why back in Gatrov Castle, of course. War's no place for women!" Obviously never met some of the women in my past, I
thought, but I held my tongue until I could dredge up more diplomatic words. I
"Ah, such a pity," I said instead. "You see, my lord baron, if she were to stand on this hill she would see the ejntire spectacle. No warrior down there would have quite £uch a good view, so her opinion of events would be taken as the final truth. She could, of course, add whatever glory to that truth that you thought fit to include."
1'j[ see ... but the sun is rising now, and the castle is miles away! It would take hours to fetch her, and I Have not two minutes."
17 could chronicle the fight."
^*Oh Inspector Danol, I could not possibly deprive you of a part in this glorious victory!" exclaimed the brainless goat, and he meant every word of it.
IWery well then," I said brightly, getting ready! to throw my last card down.
"Who will use the farsight?"
'"Farsight, sir? They're not for any but the nobility, who need an overview of battlefields—well, and for Constables to spot miscreants at a distance, of course. Not a man of my company has ever touched one."
'Then who other than you and I is sufficiently familiar with a farsight's use to monitor the Lupanian's sentry, and signal when it's facing the other way?"
The baron's features froze, then twisted with anguish. I had him! He had not allowed for that in his plan of attack. He glanced to the rising sun, then to the Lupanians, then to me. f'You sir, do you have reedpaper and a char stick?"
[That I do, Baron, in my report kit." Hi see. Listen now, Inspector Danol, I hate to ask this of you, but Fate seems to be flinging obstacles ontd your path to the battlefield. Could you see your way clear to Signal us off, then chronicle this charge? Mind, you don't have to say yes, but I'm willing to perjure myself and swear that you rode with us to the field." fThat would satisfy honor—" I began. ^You're not just saying that to please me, are you?" he asked anxiously.
'Baron, I would be delighted to be your signalir and to help you write the chronicle of this day. I was in the charge at Racewater Bridge in 3141, after all. That was enough glory to last me a lifetime."
"Were you, by all the gods of Miral? Would have loved to have been there, we must speak on it sometime—but not now. Look, feel free to ride in and chop a few tentacles once the action is all but done, and here's a something to cover expenses—oh, and here's your farsight back, you'll be needing it, ha, ha." He tossed me a purse and my farsight, and then he was gone, riding down the hill on his warhorse and shouting orders to his men. The horsemen moved off without any trumpet fanfare, to maintain the element of surprise. I watched the rising sun catch their polished shields, helmets and chainmail with near-horizontal rays, thinking how magnificent they looked and almost forgetting that they were riding to their doom. They began to skirt Bald Pate Hill, then stopped.
This was my moment. I took Norellie's drawers from my arm. They were of white cotton, and were embroidered with pink baby rabbits and dragons. There was a large heart encompassing a bull's-eye over the crotch. I brought the farsight up to my eye. The Lupanian farsight swept around, stopped, and examined me for a moment. My life began to flash before my eyes, starting with the time I had been sick all over the crown jewels during some ceremony on my fifth birthday
... then the sentry seemed to assume that I was some local trying to arrange a truce, and thus worthy of being ignored. It returned to its scan of the field, and when it was a quarter turn away from Bald Pate Hill, I swept Norellie's drawers down.
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