"/ had you appointed."
"I—what?"
"Lavenci, the carpenter seems to be finished with making an eight-sided table, and the meeting's next item will be a report on Lupanian cold sciences and magic."
"Oh, I must hear that."
"Actually, you're giving it."
XXX
At about 1 a.m. I finally escaped Riellen's meeting. Lavenci was condemned to stay there until all business was complete. That was liable to be when everyone was carried out, fast asleep. Being who I was, I was able to commandeer a cart, horse, and driver from the dozens that were lined up in the hope of being told to help in some way. I managed to sleep on the load of hay in the tray while I was being driven to the chambers of the public mortician. This was near Felons' Arch, above which was Pelmore's head on a pike. I had it brought down and held a lantern to it, but the birds had given it some attention by then, and there was nothing remaining of the face that was recognizable. Next I walked across the square to the public mortician's chambers.
Normally the headless bodies of executed felons were rowed out into the bay, where they were sunk with a bag of cobblestones tied to their ankles. That generally happened on the day of the execution, but public order had collapsed on that day. More to the point, the public mortician and most of his staff had fled. The sole remaining man on duty was See-toll, who was pale, emaciated, and clothed in rags. If ever a man had grown to resemble the merchandise of his trade, See-toll was that man. He normally took the night shift, because his appearance disturbed grieving relatives, who tended to call in during daylight The sorts of people who came calling at night tended to be less squeamish.
"Pelmore, aye, never did get him off on his final voyage," he said when I asked about Alberin's last official public execution.
"Perhaps someone else took him?" I suggested. "Not so, not so, I alius do the executed. Stendel's religious, and he says the bodies of the damned contain soul-polluting humors. Heavearn reckons they're more likely to 'ave ghosts, so he won't touch 'em." He indicated a body on a bench, covered with a brown blanket. Even with the blanket in place I f could tell that the head was missing. "That's him. Most of I him, anyhow."
I removed the blanket. The body was a day and a half dead, f but the hot weather had him a little ripe already. The wrists were still bound behind his back. I took out my knife and | slipped the blade beneath his drawers.
"Not gonna do nuffin weird, are ye?" Seetoll asked suspi- ciously. I slashed the cloth and drawstring away. I was confronted with buttocks covered in blond hair. "Aye, nattyral blond he were," said Seetoll. "It certainly looks that way," I replied. I had Seetoll carry the headless body to the mortician's boat, with instructions that it be disposed of in the usual fashion. I also tipped him twenty florins.
"Natural blond you were not," I whispered to the departing boat, "and neither were you really Pelmore."
I had been presented with a very good view of Pelmore's ! fundamental in Lavenci's room on the night that the first cylinder had fallen. The hair thereupon had been very dark, perhaps even black. Pelmore was not blond by birth, but neither did he bleach his hair below waist level. Some other prisoner had mistakenly been rendered blond all over. This being the case, whoever did it was not using Pelmore as a model. Thus Pelmore had escaped by then, and the hanging had been a cover-up.
A half hour later, the body of someone who had been hanged, then beheaded, was at the bottom of the harbor. I was on the way back to the palace, where I was quartered.
x
The following morning I was awakened in my palace room by Laron. The sun was on the horizon, and shining horizontally
through my window. He closed the door after him and handed me a mug of hot caffin brew. I explained my allergy and handed it back to him. He began to drink it as I went behind the screen to wash and dress.
"News by carrier bird is that Dromdenburg fell to the Lupanians two days ago," Laron began. "Four towers and ten thousand human collaborators fronted up. One of the towers set the citadel afire with its heat weapon. The gates were flung open, and every pole in the city had a white flag run up without a single tripod tower stepping over the walls. The Lupanians sent in some human collaborators to accept the surrender, and these selected a thousand healthy adults as 'tribute.' The prisoners were herded off to the Lupanians, and apparently a large pile of crumbly bones and muck was later discovered by the man who sent the auton bird with the report. Bariosa fell to the Lupanians without a fight. The nobles and troops headed for the countryside, and the population followed them in quite a lot of haste. The Lupanians took over an empty city that was largely intact. Laffin tried to fight."
"Who would surrender to the Lupanians when they know what is going to happen?" I asked, coming back around the screen as I dried my hair.
"I said 'tried,' not 'fought.' Suffice it to say that four towers walked to within a quarter mile of the walls, grew castings in the shape of large, black globes, and tossed these over the walls with their tentacles. They burst as they landed, and generated a black smoke which killed everything that breathed it. The smoke became harmless dust after about a quarter hour, but by then nearly everyone in Laffin was dead. Our report came from a lookout who was keeping watch at the top of a temple spire. He later collected a sample of the dust as he fled, and our agent included it with his report."
"They definitely want the towns and cities intact, where possible," I said, stroking my beard.
"Yes, and those who fight for the Lupanians are treated better, by all accounts," said Laron, holding up a small glass phial.
"Looks like lampblack," I commented. "It is lampblack. Lupanians magic somehow makes it poisonous for a quarter hour."
"Imagine what it could do in Alberin."
"Indeed. Before the war Alberin had a population of over a hundred thousand living within the main walls," Laron said, looking out of the window at the city. "Dromdenburg, Bar-iosa, and Laffin each have half that, or even less. The problem with this enemy is that sheer numbers are no advantage, however. Even if we had a million folk in Alberin, it would mean nothing against the heat weapon."
"But we also have a populace spoiling for a fight. The other cities did not."
"Laffin did. It also still had its army, kavelars, nobles, militia, and head of state," Laron pointed out, waving the report. "By my estimates, we still have ninety thousand people left, but no army. There are two battle galleys in the harbor, and their shipmasters have asked to meet whoever is running Alberin. Riellen is on her way to them now."
"Halve ninety thousand for the very old, very young, and the infirm, then halve what is left for the women, and you have just over twenty thousand souls who are even the right age and sex for fighting," I calculated. "Halve that again for those driving wagons, the carriers of weapons and supplies, the cooks, the messengers, and the medicare, and we would be lucky to have ten thousand."
"But women can drive wagons, cook, care for the wounded, and carry supplies for the fighters," said Laron. "Remember too, old veterans are already training the others. Even boys and girls are being drilled to run with bundles of arrows and bolts."
I rubbed at my wet hair again as I thought through all this.
"Very impressive, and were I attacking the city with a conventional army, I would be thinking twice about a direct assault. The trouble is that the heat weapon can start fires at two miles or more, and when several are focused together, they can be effective at over seven miles. The finest arbalast or ballista in Alberin could manage no more than a quarter mile. The Lupanians thus have around thirty times our range, and a far higher rate of fire. Add to this the smoke that kills, and... well, it's hopeless. I mean Riellen is very good at getting people running around, shouting slogans, and doing things for free, but all that enthusiasm will not be much good against heat weapons and poison smoke."
As Laron gazed out of the window at the rising sun, I picked up the phial of black dust and shook it. It resembled nothing more than ordinary lampblack
"What would you do, Inspector?" Laron finally asked. I had a feeling that he would ask that question. I had been, covertly, arguing for surrender. Now I had to do it in the open, but I could not bring myself to do that.
"The Lupanians destroy and slaughter to teach us a lesson," I said slowly.
"That means they want to avoid complete slaughter and absolute destruction. They want things intact, that is their only weakness."
"I know. I have a map with their conquests marked. There is a clear pattern. Except for Laffin, not a single city with more than twenty thousand souls behind the walls has been annihilated. Danol, there were only twenty of them sent over. They are not here to flush us out and kill us to make way for their people, they want to rule us. To rule, you need working cities and farms, administrators, artisans, constables, and even nobles. You need towns and cities. I agree with you. The invaders want to conquer as much as they can without total destruction and slaughter. That is indeed their weakness."
"But their only weakness—sir, with respect."
"Oh no, there are others, I have been talking with Commander Halland. The heat weapons shoot only in a straight line, but arrows travel in a curve. We can fire over a wall. They cannot. Then again, their fighting towers are made of spun-glass threads, we know that thanks to you, Azorian, and Lady Lavenci. It is a very strong material, but a direct hit from an arbalest bolt can breach it."
"An arbalest bolt has a metal tip. Remember, their magic turns metal aside. They are highly intelligent, they must have thought most of this through already."
"I wonder. Let us not confuse advanced magical learning and arts with intelligence, Inspector. My feeling is that these Lupanian warriors are their elite. In your experience, how intelligent are elite warriors?"
"Well, they generally have the wisdom to put their socks on before their boots, but Lupanian warriors may be different."
"I doubt it," said Laron. "But enough of that. Danolarian, there is another matter that troubles me, a very personal matter."
"Yes?" I asked, puzzled. I had never had much to do with Laron at a personal level, even though we had known each other for three years. He looked uneasy, as if the subject were a sensitive one. I assumed that it involved Lavenci. I was wrong.
"Look here, about your Constable Riellen," he began. "I no longer command her, sir," I interjected before he could say more.
"That is what disturbs me," he responded. "Er... how so?"
"After the meeting ended, at about two a.m., she—she came to my bedchamber."
"No sense of personal space, that girl," I replied, not at all surprised.
"Then she took off all her clothes, and demanded that I, er, perform certain acts of a reproductive nature with her."
Now I was surprised. "Oh," I replied, but could think of nothing else to say.
"One very specific amorous act, in fact, and with no sheepgut security devices to be used."
"I see. And did you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. She said it was my patriotic duty. I asked why me, and she said that only someone good enough for Kavelen Lavenci was good enough for her."
"Goodness!"
"Well put. Lavenci and myself go back a long way." "All the way, from what I've been told." "It began late in 3140, in Diomeda. After that it was sort of on and off—" "So to speak."
"Now look here, Danolarian, this is already hard enough for me!" snapped Laron, folding his arms tightly and staring down at the floor.
"Sorry sir, pray continue."
"Lavenci was a sheltered girl when younger, she needed a lot of medicar treatment for her eyes, on account of being an albino."
"The black dye for her eyes?"
"Yes. When her mother brought her to Alberin, well, we saw something of each other occasionally. Then she abandoned me for you."
"Sorry," I managed, although an attack of pride very nearly burst my chest.
"No matter. Now Riellen strides into my bedchamber while I am trying to take off my boots, and strips naked. She had the smallest breasts I have ever seen."
"May I ask what she was like?"
"You mean you don't you know?"
"Don't be silly," I retorted, not a little offended at the suggestion.
"Well... probably somewhat virginal," ventured Laron. "Probably?"
"Until now, my bedmates have tended to be rather, um, experienced, and generally older. Riellen did not seem to know what she was doing, and you have just confirmed that suspicion. She said if I did not cooperate, she would not lead Alberin against the Lupanians. Naturally I put Alberin's welfare before my personal misgivings, but, well, do you have any theories? I mean, she won't want to marry me or suchlike, will she?"
"She had a crush on me, and went to rather extreme lengths to keep other girls away," I explained. "It's all in my report. Mostly."
"No, Inspector, it is not all in your report, not even mostly. Everything that you know about is quite probably there, but there is sure to be more."
"If I learn more, you will be the first to know."
"Thank you."
He walked to the door, then turned back with his hand on the golden latch.
"Danolarian, you could have had my office on a silver platter. Why did you not want it?"
"Laron, do not ever ask me that question again."
XXX
Having breakfasted, I set off across the plaza in front of the palace gates, and into the streets beyond. It is a very well known fact that idle people are more fearful than busy people, so Riellen had turned Alberin into something resembling an anthill with a honey pastry dropped upon it. Everywhere there were men, women, and children training, marching, drilling, carrying, and clearing away the wreckage of the vandalistic orgy of only two nights earlier. My duties involved those armed with just about anything that could fire something sharp in the direction of an enemy. A small number of the recruits in the new militia were women and girls, nearly all of whom could fire a light bow passably well. These were mostly noblewomen, or the wives and daughters of merchants. Some had also been taught to use light crossbows for social hunts in the countryside. The other odd thing was the sheer number of women doing pretty well everything else. They were driving wagons, carrying loads of arrows, distributing food, running nearly every stall that was still operating, dragging bodies out of laneways, and putting out the remaining fires. My overall impression was that women were running the city, and that it was no bad thing.
Down at the wharves, wagons with catapults mounted on their trays were driven past mock-up targets on wagons, with both driven at full gallop so that the crews could practice shooting at moving things the size of the cowls on the Lupanians' machines. This was going on at the wharves, so that if the bolts missed—and practically all of them did—they would fly harmlessly out into the harbor. Our siege engines would have only a single shot at a tripod tower before being annihilated, but a ballista had dropped a tower at Gatrov, so it seemed worth a try.
Hundreds of amateur and professional fletchers labored to make arrows and bolts, mosdy in street workshops so that others could watch, and thus be trained en masse. I passed Essen and Andry drilling squads of pikemen for the inevitable attack, and noticed gnomes riding cats as part of my new messenger network.
All the while I collected names of people who knew how to shoot already, and sent the lists to the palace to join the archery
brigades. Already Alberin had seven thousand rather promising archery recruits, and two hundred of them were women.
Everywhere there were posters. All had crude pictures of Lupanian tripod towers, and the messages were simple and to the point:
REGENT LARON SAYS WORK COMMANDER HALLAND SAYS FIGHT ELECTOR RIELLEN SAYS VOTE
COMMANDER HALLAND SAYS DEFEND YOUR CITY REGENT LARON SAYS DOWN WITH LUPAN
ELECTOR RIELLEN SAYS EVERYONE IS EQUAL REGENT LARON FOR PRESIDIAN COMMANDER
HALLAND FOR PRESIDIAN DUKE FORNDAR FOR PRESIDIAN ARCHPR1EST MARTISSEN FOR
PRESI
DIAN INSPECTOR DANOLARIAN FOR PRESIDIAN
The last-named poster left me rather severely shaken. I ripped it from the wall, stuffed it under my belt, and resolved to shout at somebody about it as soon as was convenient.
Chapter Twenty
THE MEGAZOID
Military training was hasty but intensive for the people of Alberin who were not already familiar with weapons. Everyone between the ages of twelve and eighty was given training in fighting with a length of wood in one hand and an eating knife in another. There were two basic moves: block with the piece of wood, then close and stab with the knife. Three standard ways of hitting with the piece of wood were also included, for those without knives. After five hours straight of block-and-stab practice in every street, square, plaza, courtyard, and market, the Wayfarers and militiamen had most of the city able to hit and stab with confidence, if not skill.
Another announcement was circulated at noon, and it detailed a short course on throwing rocks, by both hand and sling. Thus most of the city spent most of the afternoon twirling rocks held in folded lengths of cloth and slinging them at targets. Accuracy and range varied considerably, but at the end of the day I would say that out of every hundred rocks lobbed, five would hit a man-sized target at about a hundred feet. Those unable to throw competently were sent off for pike training—which meant learning to stand shoulder-to-shoulder across a street while pointing sharpened sticks eight feet long at a charging mob of maniacs.
In a sense I felt guilty because I was not training or being trained, but I kept telling myself that everyone's work was equally vital. The next meeting of the electoral advisors began at dusk, and featured eight brief and generally optimistic reports about progress in arming the city and discovering weaknesses in the enemy's weapons. Lavenci had particularly good news on the poison smoke. I was no longer required to attend the meetings, being important only as a symbol, but Lavenci kept me briefed.
"Azorian told me of the smoke weapon," she told me, holding up Laron's phial of lampblack. "A powerful casting spell is used to animate casks of lampblack into millions of little flying daemons. Each is the size of a pinhead, and they are charged with the desire to fly into the lungs of any living thing. There they cling to the wet inner tissue and explode as a small cloud of lampblack. This causes suffocation."
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