"So, although these Lupanians are all but invincible, they are helpless for a few moments when their cylinders open," concluded the duke to his advisors, who numbered six river kavelars, the Gatrov mayor, Halland, Lavenci, and myself.
"Aye sir, for perhaps five heartbeats after the hatch opens," explained Halland.
"And they may be killed by a single warrior using a flamethrower and hellfire oil?"
"I used three flamethrowers, sir."
"Why three?"
"I could not fit any more around the hatchway."
"But one would do?"
"Probably."
"How quickly could a man learn to use a flamethrower?"
"Three or four hours of instruction and practice would suffice, but we have plenty of trained and experienced—"
"Enough!" barked the duke. "I shall take my flotilla of galleys up the river to where this cylinder has landed. On the way I shall take instruction in flamethrower operation. Commander, you will assign to me a man who participated in the attack on the second cylinder, purely as an advisor, of course."
Halland suddenly looked worried. It was nothing conspicuous, just a subtle twist in his facial features, but I knew worry when I saw it.
"Now, Commander Halland, I have a plan for the Lupanians from the first cylinder," the duke continued. "According to Inspector Danolarian, there is a stream running to within thirty yards of the pit. That will provide cover for you to take every archer and militiaman in the town to within bowshot of the thing. From that cover, the archers will lay down a barrage of arrows that will skewer everything made of flesh in the pit. The militiamen will then rush the pit with axes and spears and finish them off."
"A bold plan," said Halland, looking politely attentive. "If executed in the dead of night, it might work."
"Oh no, no, no, no, you must attack in daylight, I insist. Don't want any Lupanians to escape in the dark, do we? It will be magnificent, why I might even mention you by name in my report to the regent. Who knows, it could well be Kavelar Halland before a year or two have passed."
X X X
As soon as we had been dismissed and were clear of the militia building, Halland softly cursed the young noble to spend eternity in some very hot and unpleasant places, reincarnated as various items of reproductive anatomy—and then he remembered that Lavenci and Riellen were with us and began to apologize profusely.
"Life on the road has made me quite familiar with the colloquialisms of the oppressed and unrepresented people," declared Riellen.
"I've had a sheltered upbringing and I need to expand my vocabulary," added Lavenci.
"Is Duke Lestor really as stupid as he seems?" the grass gnome called from Riellen's coat pocket.
Lavenci shrieked, and Halland dodged away. I took Solonor from Riellen, introduced him to everyone, then swore him in as a Wayfarer auxiliary before we continued on our way. He had saved my life, after all, and I had a vague idea that he really might be of use in spying on the Lupanians. He was even smaller than Wallas, and seemed to be a lot braver.
"The duke's plan is as clear as a newly washed window," Halland suddenly ranted, really letting himself go after thinking through his orders. "He goes to the third cylinder, and roasts it. Meantime we get roasted by the Lupanians at the first cylinder as we attack in broad daylight. He then claims to have destroyed the Lupanians in both the second and third cylinders."
"Establishment lackey!" snapped Riellen enthusiastically.
"Aye, oppressor of honest lower-class warriors what don't have a voice in decision making," agreed Solonor, who was now riding on Riellen's shoulder.
"But the first cylinder does need to be destroyed," I pointed out.
"It's a definite danger," called the grass gnome, waving the charred remains of his hat.
"Yes, Brother Inspector, what to do about the first cylinder?" asked Riellen.
"I suppose the duke will order a night attack after you die, Commander Halland," I speculated. "He will say that he learned not to attack in daylight from your sacrifice."
" 'If is the operative word, Inspector. I shall attack by day, as the duke has ordered, but first I shall set hay, tar, and hell-fire oil alight upwind of the Lupanians, to lay down a smoke blind. Instead of bowmen, I'll take a squad of militiamen with flamethrowers along the stream to the first cylinder. If the wind is constant, the smoke will allow those with spears to get to the pit's edge alive, and the Lupanians will get a taste of what it feels like to be on the wrong side in a massacre."
"That should please the duke," said Solonor.
"The duke? Pah!" exclaimed Halland. "The duke wants us to die, dammit. Don't you see? He would oppose any plan that looks like leaving either Wayfarers or militiamen alive, yet use it himself once we are dead. Danol, Riellen, I am already disobeying the direct order of a nobleman, and so are you two if you choose to fall in with me. If I lose, we become a puff of smoke and a sprinkle of ash. If I win, we shall be court-martialed and hanged. I am not a good man to side with."
"They have to catch us first," said Solonor.
"We could form a revolutionary committee and usurp his command," suggested Riellen.
'Wo we could notV said Halland emphatically. "I will not attack my homeland's rulers and nobles, even if they are idiots. What I will do is disobey the orders of a noble for the good of my homeland."
"I'm with you," I said firmly.
Riellen scowled for a moment as she considered her options.
"I agree to ally myself with you as an act of social justice, rather than through an application of revolutionary ideology," she said with no less conviction than I had shown.
"I, er, accept that," said Halland slowly. "I think."
"Er, should I say yes, Inspector?" Solonor asked, and I nodded.
"If I can help I shall," said Lavenci.
"What's to be done, then?" I asked hurriedly, before another argument developed.
"You take your ponycart and a flamethrower to the third cylinder," said Halland. "I can secure a flamethrower that the duke does not know about. Go overland, go tonight, hide, and wait there."
"And do what?"
"If the duke fouls up, step in and do what you can."
"But the duke has six river galleys loaded with river marines," I replied.
"Getting them to step aside could be a problem."
"I know, I know, but what can I do? I can't ask militiamen to go with you and fight imperial guardsmen. They're patriotic men, and it would be citizen fighting citizen."
"Perhaps I could help," said Lavenci.
"What? How?" asked Halland.
"Commander, I was once ... engaged in sorcery. Before the enlightened prohibitions against magic and the glorious Inquisition, that is. I know little of combat, but I can do some powerful castings."
"Fireball castings to drop even two or three warriors would have you exhausted," said Halland.
"But one really strong brilliance casting would have all the duke's men floundering about sightless for a full minute or more," said Lavenci. For the first time since our meeting with the duke, Commander Halland smiled.
"It might work, ladyship, it just might work," he said, nodding his head slowly, as if reluctant to accept good news.
"Now then, what else can be used to our advantage?" I asked. "Riellen, have you had any success speaking with that Azorian youth who spent a day in the first voidship's pit?"
"Azorian turned out to be his name, sir, not his country. I do believe he is a brother student, stranded here when Torea was destroyed." I had lived in Torea until I was fourteen, spoke five Torean languages fluently and had a smattering of another nine, yet I
did not recognize his speech. On the other hand, Torea had been a big place, with many kingdoms and tongues.
"There are refugee Metrologan priestesses from Torea in Alberin," I said.
"When—if—we survive the hours to come, you must take him there."
"Why not straightaway, sir?" asked Riellen.
"Because if the attacks on the first and third cylinders fail, I also want you to report that to Wayfarer Headquarters. You will stay in Gatrov with Azorian. By noon tomorrow you should know how the attacks turned out, and after that you will take the first barge or boat for Alberin. Take Mervielle and Norellie with you—oh, and sober up Roval to travel with you as a guard."
"What about Constable Wallas, sir?"
"I have other duties awaiting Constable Wallas."
Riellen saluted, then strode off with Solonor. Halland, Lavenci and I gazed after her, all shaking our heads.
"Remarkable girl," said Halland. "Can she be trusted to do all that?"
"Oh yes, but she is also liable to do considerably more. That is what worries me."
"The hours ahead look bad," said Lavenci. "We still have hope," I replied.
"I would be happier if we were not fighting our own idiot nobles as well as the invaders," Halland said quietly. "You know, Inspector, it suddenly strikes me that Riellen could be right about needing to overthrow them."
"It's been tried, time and again," I replied. "Those who overthrow nobles end up becoming nobles themselves."
"Must it always be thus?"
"Give me a viable alternative system, sir, and I'd be the first to run over and sign up."
"Only if you can run and sign faster than me, Inspector," said Halland.
"Follow me to the armory. The blacksmith there can be trusted, and he has enough spare parts to toss a flamethrower together in an hour or so. After that, it is all up to you two."
Chapter Nine
IN THE STORM
Thunder rumbled in the distance as Lavenci, Halland, and I walked to the militia armory, then on to Norellie's house. As we walked we speculated on whether Lupan had thunderstorms, because if not this could give us yet another advantage. Arriving at Norellie's house, I told the healer that I was about to lead an attack on the third cylinder. She collapsed onto a stool, took a small jar of fortified wine from a nearby shelf, flung the cork into the fire, and drained the contents.
"Ladyship, I am willing to give you too a declaration of ab-salver ne trestipar to accompany the inspector tonight and throw a brilliance casting," Halland offered as Lavenci handed him her roll of notes.
"So you will take the penalty for any crime I may commit?" "If you are caught, yes," said Halland. "It will be in the service of the regent." "Sort of," I added.
"That is gracious of you, Commander," said Lavenci. "I shall write one out now, if Madame Norellie thinks you seem trustworthy," said Halland as he sat down at the table. "If / think as much?" exclaimed Norellie. "I hold you in high regard, madame. It may not seem so, frbut—"
"Yes, yes, very well. From what I know of Her Ladyship, |she abuses no trust." Thunder rumbled ever more loudly outside as he wrote. I witnessed Halland's signature, then gave the declaration to Lavenci to read.
"Effective until noon tomorrow," she noted. "What the inspector and you must do will be later tonight—" began Halland.
'Tonight?" exclaimed Norellie. "In the rain? How many hours will it take?"
"If all goes well then perchance, oh, twelve hours away from Gatrov."
"Twelve hours?"
"Work must be done that requires the combined skills of a warrior and sorceress."
"But look at him!" Norellie barked, waving a hand in my direction. "Have you any idea how much he has been through in the fifty hours just past? Two battles with the Lupanians, a very rough tavern fight, a severe migraine—¦"
"Half a dozen of Riellen's speeches," I added.
"Nevertheless it must be Danol who leads this venture," said Halland. "The Inspector has survived two encounters with the Lupanians. There is nobody else in all the world better suited to lead the attack than he." The storm was almost upon us as we walked to the Bargeman's Barrel for our packs, then to where my hired pony and cart were stabled. The storm clouds had cut off all light from Miral and the moonworlds, and a few public lanterns were all there was to light our way. Another half hour had the hastily assembled flamethrower tied firmly down in the tray of the cart, and concealed under a tarpaulin. The blacksmith threw in a couple of cavalry crossbows and a score of bolts "Just in case." We then set off to secure our night-vision equipment, with Halland driving and Lavenci and I sitting at the back of the tray, not quite touching. In spite of everything, I still wanted to be near her. It was hopeless affection, and beyond explanations, but it was a fact. Thunder rumbled out of the western sky with increasing frequency, and lightning flickered amid the clouds.
"It promises to be a very unpleasant night," I said uneasily.
"For Pelmore as well as us," answered Lavenci. "He should be married and about to bed his wife by now."
"At least he will be indoors," I said with a glance to the sky.
"So, here we are. A one-handed ex-sorceress, and an inspector of the Wayfarer Constables. Before us is both the might of the empire, and the invincible heat casting of the Lupanians. We are armed with two lightweight crossbows, a ponycart, and a flamethrower."
"And a talking cat."
"A talking cat?"
"Yes."
"You jest."
"Quite frequently, but not just now. Wallas really is a talking cat." Lavenci put a hand over her eyes. "I'm sure it will make all the difference."
"Actually, it will. Wallas can see in the dark."
Wallas was in the tavern where I had originally left him, soaking up hospitality as only a cat is able. Leaving the pony, cart, and flamethrower with Halland, Lavenci and I entered and sat at a table. Wallas was lying on the serving board, and noticed us immediately. He got up, came padding over, and jumped onto our table.
"Meow?" he declared innocently.
"Speak Alberinese, Wallas," I said softly. "Kavelen Lavenci knows about you."
"Ah, the hoyden noble!" exclaimed Wallas quiedy. "I heard about the, ah, heroic repair of your honor, ladyship. Have you formed a liaison of passionate gratitude with the inspector as yet?"
"Three sentences, and I despise him already," replied Lavenci, glaring at Wallas.
"Lavenci and I have formed an alliance," I added hastily. "We intend to attack the Lupanians in the third cylinder tonight—after beating off the duke and his marines, that is."
Wallas flopped to the table, yowling with laughter and waving his legs in the air.
"You two, alone, against a fleet of river galleys crammed with marines, not to mention the deadly Lupanians."
"Well, yes, you seem to have our measure."
"Ridiculous!" he laughed, sitting up again. "Why there's a storm almost upon us as well. You'll get soaked, and will not even be able to see in the gloom."
"Indeed, Miral and the moonworlds are obscured by the clouds. That is where you come in."
Wallas gave a start, then scrabbled frantically to turn and leap from the table, but my hand shot out and seized him by the scruff of the neck.
"Wallas, old tomcat, how are you doing?" I asked cheerily.
"Murder! Heresy! Treason! Rape!" yowled Wallas, immediately securing the attention of the tavern's entire company.
"Wayfarer Constabulary!" I declared, holding up my crest plate as Lavenci wrapped the flailing bundle of fur, claws, and fangs in her cloak. "This cat is under arrest for suspicion of being a sorcerer in disguise." Fortunately for me, taverns are places where people tend to have been drinking for some time. Faced with an overweight, talking cat being placed under arrest, most assumed that they had been in the tavern rather too long, and had been drinking far too much.
"Oi, ain't he your cat?" called one of the serving maids who had been looking after Wallas.
"He killed my real cat, and took his place to spy upon me. This lady is a member of the Inquisition Constables. She saw through his disguise." This appeared to explain everything to most of the drinkers, who smiled with relief and turned back to their drinks. The shocked serving maids remained wide-eyed with alarm, however, and I wondered just what they had been doing with Wallas th
at they might not have done had they known that he was somewhat more than a black cat with an eating disorder and a drinking problem. Wallas was not one to give up without a fight however.
"Militia! Militia! Summon the yowrf—"
I clamped a hand over Wallas's mouth. He responded by biting my finger, but it was a small price to pay for silencing him. With Wallas securely bundled up in the cloak and held tightly, Lavenci and I hurried out of the tavern. Halland was waiting outside with a sack, into which Wallas was tied, with only his head projecting.
We gave Halland a ride to his home. This turned out to be a tiny, single-room cottage.
"Small for a man of my station, is it not?" he laughed as he jumped down.
"I'd heard you have a wife and three children, sir," I replied, f "It must be crowded in there."
"They live in the baron's castle. I see them every week or so." "So, the romance has cooled a little?" "Ours was an arranged marriage. She was the eleventh daughter of a very poor kavelar, and I was an exiled, dis-, graced lancer in the baron's cavalry. The baron ... required j the marriage. I was appointed as militia commander over five volunteer spearmen and two archers—who shared the same crossbow. In the nine years since then I have built the militia into what it is today. There's little incentive to linger at home, you see."
"So the children ..." I began, then managed to stop myself. "Three, and they all resemble the baron," said Halland without any attempt at guile. "That was why he required the marriage."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lavenci. "So, er, your wife must be, er, passably devastated by his death?"
"Devastated, no. Very angry, yes. Until this morning she was the baron's most favored courtesan. Now she is merely my wife—in theory. Actually my family left the castle in a carriage this morning, escorted by four lancers and on the road to Alberin—but enough of tasteless romantic farce. Good fortune with cylinder three, friends, and act with care."
"Perchance a stray crossbow bolt may strike the duke and solve all our problems."
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