The camp took shape around us. There were seven thousand men doing the work so it didn't take long. A ditch was dug, the earth being thrown inward to form a rampart. Each man carried a stake which was then rammed home to form a short wall. Inside, a broad space was left clear with designated areas for horses and wagons. Tents were erected in an inner square with another more or less clear space in the center of that. In a permanent camp there would be a few buildings here, a hospital, command and administration building, and so forth. Accordingly, my charges being the battle mages and healers, it was from this clear space that I watched things come together. Our slaves and servants appeared and tents were erected in the place where the field hospital would be located in a permanent camp. As soon as my tent was ready I ordered hot water and ducked inside. I had nothing pressing to do that needed doing and the last thing I wanted to do was sit down so I stripped off the borrowed armor and paced back and forth and fretted while I waited. The other commanders would have duties to keep them busy but I was only responsible for sixteen men, my six men forming the bodyguard for the other ten, and all of them seemed able to look after themselves. In a way I felt pretty superfluous, which normally would have made me fairly happy. I could clean up, which I would do as soon as Meran brought the damn water, pull on a robe and stretch out in relative comfort to read till I fell asleep. It sounded good, but I couldn't help feeling like there was something I should be doing. There wasn't and I couldn't figure out why this bothered me. Perhaps it was just arrogance. A man of my class should be doing something, should be in control. And I wasn't. It was that simple. Damn. My upbringing had obviously affected me more deeply than I had ever suspected. I had the urge to compete with my peers, to shine, to put them in the shade, to blind them with my brilliance, I wanted to gather the reins of power into my hands, I wanted control, I wanted responsibility. I wanted all the things I had been meticulously avoiding my whole life. Or at least part of me did.
Well, I could take control of what I had control over.
Meran interrupted my introspective self-analysis with blessed hot water and fresh clothes. I washed and dressed and, feeling better for it, stepped back out into the dusk of the evening to take charge of things.
Kerral appeared as if by magic as soon as I barked his name.
“Sir!” He had snapped to attention and saluted in mere moments and I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around him and give him a big hug. It was as if he had been waiting for me to catch up, which I guess he had.
“Report.”
I could almost see him resisting the urge to smile. I had done nothing in the way of formalizing relationships with my command, appointed no one, fixed no chain of command. I'd ignored my responsibilities, light though they may be, but that was over now and he knew it. Dammit, I think he was proud of me.
“Our quartermaster has established contact with stores and our supplies of food and other necessities are secured, sir. The men are settled under discipline and prepared for their duties. Weapons and armor have been inspected and the men pass muster. Horses and spare gear have been checked and all is in order. Your charges are secure and their comforts are being attended to, sir.”
“My slave has the war chest. See that it is guarded, Centurion.” First Centurion would have been more pretentious than I could take, but he needed to know what I intended. Subconsciously, decisions had been made. We had needed horses and I had sent Meran back to the city to bring a librarian to my home and sell my library to him. The assessment would have been on the low side, due to time issues, but I needed that money now so now it was. I knew their value and guessed what I would get; enough to buy the horses and leave a good sum over, and that would become my war chest. I was as capable of raising an army as Tulian and to hell with taking his orders and there was nothing anyone could do about it. My soldiers would have to be raised on route but there were several towns between here and the end of our lands and I had five good men to act as centurions and doubtless Kerral could find one more. My men. My army. My command. My life. My destiny. And if I was going to keep my word I needed to do this, though I honestly think I would have anyway. Once the lion smells blood it wants to eat.
#
On the second day of the march I'd woken before dawn and presented myself at the commander's tent to receive the password. I had been given no other instructions. It felt like a waste of time, but there was no avoiding it.
Later that day we entered the Modrasin hills, and this is where my father's agent caught up with me. We were traveling in a loose group, two or three abreast, and it was a moment or two before I noticed the stranger, riding at Meran's side, leading a pack animal. My gaze traveled from Meran to his companion who caught my eye, held my gaze and moved closer. Pakat was between us with steel bared, his mount tossing its head and forcing the other's mount away. Meran made space and Kerral was on the other side of the man, also with his blade drawn.
“Give your name and business with the commander!”
Pakat had the voice of command and I saw the smaller man pale slightly, his confidence dented. He had obviously asked for me, found my slave and commanded Meran to bring him into my presence. No faulting him for that but my men were having none of it and I chose to let them have their way.
“Give answer, man!” Kerral was just as clearly serious.
The newcomer didn't waste effort on bravado. Though I was pretending not to notice I could clearly see him eye the weapons and the men clinically. This was a man who had seen naked steel before and was not automatically intimidated by it. I re-interpreted his first reaction, he had paled in anger as some men are made flush by it. His sudden stillness had not been fear but preparation. By his hairstyle and dress he was a freedman, a former slave who had earned or bought his freedom. He answered Pakat but was more clearly addressing me. “I have messages and gifts for the commander. My name is Sapphire.”
I acknowledge that I had heard this and by gesture let it be known that Sapphire was to be passed into my presence. I'd guessed already who had sent him and, from the bundled goods on the pack horse, what he brought. A few moments later he rode by my side and held out a scroll for me. “A letter from your father,” he informed me.
I had already guessed as much and decided on my response. I took the letter and tucked it under my thigh. “Travel with my slave, I'll write a reply tonight and you can return with it.”
A cloud passed briefly over his expression and was gone instantly. He bowed in the saddle and dropped back out of sight. When I was sure he was gone I turned in my saddle and gave a nod of approval to both Kerral and Pakat, then broke the seal and read the letter.
Get this man safely to Gerria. Don't sell my armor. If you do I'll disown you and let your brother-in-law do what he wants. Come back with money. Destroy this.
I set my stone to it, found the tug of the stone in my mind and pushed in the way I had been taught. The paper charred and burst into flame moments later, all of it in one. I let it go and it rose out of my hand before disintegrating into charred particles and drifting as black dust on the breeze. It was a little theatrical but suited my mood. Not a word of greeting or good wishes. Get this man to Gerria. Why? Not a word of explanation. Don't sell the armor. Can't say I hadn't earned that but I was going to war. Why would I? Come back with money. With your shield or on it. Sod you. Destroy this. Why? What was this man Sapphire up to that even the fact I was supposed to get him onto Gerrian soil in one piece had to be secret? Well, I had plenty of time to pump him for information. In any case, I'd certainly have him watched.
It was a few minutes later that it started bothering me that the whole thing wasn't very subtle. Did my father think I was stupid or such a lush that I just wouldn't be interested? Surely the best way to get someone there was just attach him to the baggage train as a drover or some such. Have the son-of-a-bitch enlist. Why have him travel with the army at all? It was a pretty safe road from the city to Gerria. Our lands, the provinces of Lirria and Muria which h
ad been ours for centuries, the client kingdom of Wherrel, then the client Gerrian tribe of the Geduri and you were there. He could have traveled alone much faster, changing horses every ten miles. Pushing hard he could have made it in mere days. The more I worried at it the more weird it seemed and the more determined I became to have the bastard watched and find out what he was up to.
There is no ill wind, as the saying has it, that blows no good. Personally I kind of doubt that is true but in this case it was, not that I was sure that Sapphire was in fact an ill wind. If Sapphire could ride to Gerria in a few days, then so could anyone. I had been thinking in terms of recruiting along the way but, of course, I could send someone ahead to recruit near the border. It would give my agent time to knock a unit into shape, something that could not be done on route. Not that I wanted new recruits, as I couldn't afford to equip more than a very few men; they would have to be either landowners who had, as law decreed, armor and weapons, or veterans of one war or another who had run out of money and needed another stint. Veterans generally kept their equipment, especially on or near the frontiers where they might be needed at the drop of a hat. It was, I decided, the way forward. Now, who to send?
#
“You want me to what?”
I'd called Sheo to my tent as soon possible after the army had camped.
“Think it through, Sheo. Who else can I send? I need Kerral with me since I made him first centurion. The other four are good men but I haven't known them long. And, as a bonus you can take the two hundred I owe you.”
He frowned at my levity.
“I've never recruited.”
“Figure it out. How hard can it be? Get as many as you can get. A cohort would be perfect if you can get so many. Get them in shape and ready by the time we arrive. Take only landowners or veterans. No nobles.” I kept overriding him with instructions. “Better for us if they are all veterans. One year or the duration of this campaign only. The usual pay, small advances on signing up, and the usual shares of the booty. You'll have to assign centurions but make sure they know I'll be changing things. And get a banner made, you know what to put on it.”
He stopped trying to protest and started nodding at each point. “I'll prep a roadside fort. Will I have enough money to keep them fed and watered until you arrive?”
“Good question,” I raised my voice. “Meran!
My ugly slave was inside the tent in seconds and I gave him a smile. I was feeling generous.
“How much money in the war chest?”
“Twelve thousand four hundred and seventy silver.”
I nodded thanks. Plenty. “Get me some maps of Gerria and the surrounding areas.”
As soon as he was gone I started doing math out loud. “A silver will feed a man for a week so six hundred times four is two thousand four hundred, say three thousand to allow for delays. Six hundred silver for recruiting fees. Your expenses the same, so another twelve hundred. So four thousand two hundred. Round that up to five thousand for unforeseen problems. Sound okay to you?”
“Alone on the road with five thousand silver?”
He had a point. It could all go horribly wrong. The roadwardens kept the roads free of bandits and thieves. Free trade is the lifeblood of the city. Trade is money and money is power. “Ride fast.”
“What's in it for me?”
I grinned. Greed. Damn but I loved the honest avarice of our class, of our people. “Best you be my second in command with an appropriate share of the booty.”
He gave a nod of agreement. “See you in three weeks.”
“With luck. You'll hear rumor of our coming. Watch the locals, there may be spies. Keep them out of the camp. Careful who you buy food from.”
“Sumto, I know as much about warfare as you do.”
“Probably more,” I agreed cheerfully. That was a lie, or half-truth at best. He had some practical experience, but I did not doubt I had more knowledge. I had read everything on the subject, and thought about it.
“I also know the law as well as you do. You have no imperium.”
I shrugged it off. “Technically we are all kings, my friend.”
“Don't joke.”
Technically we were in an interregnum as someone on the council of patrons would always veto anyone who was proposed to become king. The title held no power or prestige and it was to avoid the stigma attached to the title that friends or allies vetoed the nomination. It had been going on a goof few years. Without a king the few duties of the title devolved, in fact the title itself, devolved upon every nobleman of the city. King for a day or a bit of a king every day, and the king could raise an army if he wanted to. Actually a bodyguard but in the numbers I was thinking that would do.
“I am of age and from a patronial family as old as the city. Technically I'm right and you know it. So the council might not agree and might prosecute...”
“Someone will prosecute, you aren't without enemies, Sumto.”
“...might prosecute if my letter to my father doesn't bear fruit.”
“What letter?”
“I just thought of it and won't write it yet, but I can get him to write me an authority as an emergency measure. He is a proconsul and has a perfect legal right to do so. And even if someone does prosecute it will make a good story, and what's the worst that can happen?”
We moved to the entrance and stepped out into the dusk. Our camp fire was lit and a servant was cooking up the rations that had been passed out. Kerral sat on a stool outside the tent he shared with Sheo. The susurration of hundreds of conversations, both near and far, filled the air with an almost familiar current; the odd louder sound, physical or verbal, just a known counterpoint. Of my charges, the healers were louder and more jovial, the battle mages quieter and more secretive. I could hear and not hear them in exactly the proportions I already expected. I felt like I had always been here, like I belonged.
We crossed to Kerral, who stood as I came close, and quietly informed him of what I intended. He nodded his approval, not quite smiling but clearly pleased. I hoped he would still be pleased at the end of the year.
“Exile.” It was Kerral who answered the question after having repeated Sheo's warnings.
“So I accept the risk. Any questions?”
At that moment Meran arrived with my maps so there were none. I unrolled them one at a time then and there until I had what I wanted. I gave the map of southern Gerria a cursory glance until I found what I wanted in the territory of the client kingdom of Wherrel. “The town of Yuprit. Don't camp close enough to upset anyone.”
I left the map with him and went back into my tent, taking Meran with me.
“I need you to steal something.”
“It's what I live for.”
“If you get caught you won't live.”
“Oh good. I'm so lucky to have such a considerate master, some of you city nobles are right bastards.”
“If you want to say no say no.”
“What is it?”
“A white rod.”
He closed his eyes and deliberately didn't let out the explosive breath that he just managed to catch behind his pressed lips. Then he let it out. Slowly. “There are only two close. Either one will be missed.”
“I need one.”
“Make one.”
“What?”
“It's a rod made out of white wood with two gold tips, quite plain. Easy to make.”
I gave it a moment's thought. “I don't know how to make anything.”
“I do, master. Leave it to me. Safer than stealing and no one will know the difference. When do you need it?”
“By dawn?”
He gave me an openly filthy look. He didn't do that often, he is a slave after all. “Anything else?”
“No, Meran. Nothing else,” that I can think of at the moment.
After he'd left I spent a time studying the maps, I really wanted to know the territory of the Gerrian tribes. Then I joined Lentro and the other healers for the evening meal. By t
he time I made it to bed the simple camp cot felt almost comfortable.
#
Waking up before dawn was not as bad as I had been led to believe. I put on the armor my father had sent for me, magically enhanced and higher quality than the stuff Meran had acquired. He had sent two swords, a straight blade long enough to serve as a cavalry sword and yet be easily used on foot, and a much shorter sword that we commonly term an honor blade, not quite as long as my arm. Both were expensive items. There was also a shield suitable for use on horseback. And a belt which I recognized from the family armory, and knew that a stone had been sacrificed to create it. It would envelop me in a finger-wide shield of near invisible armor. With or without the chain I would have some protection.
Now I looked as I should and I was glad of it.
Meran had come through for me. The white rod was given to recruiters, who could be commoners, by anyone with authority to raise troops. Some people might want to see it, but these things were fairly fast and loose. The fact that Sheo was a noble should be enough. Still, better safe than sorry.
Dressed and shaved before first watch, I wrapped the fairly good copy in cloth and crossed to Sheo's tent. I nudged his slave, who slept across the threshold, and indicated he should wake his master who soon came to the entrance.
“Tuck it away,” I whispered. “Only show it if you need to.”
He unwrapped the cloth enough to see what I had for him, then wrapped it tight and tucked it in his belt with a thoughtful nod.
“Good luck.”
I left him there and headed for the command tent. It was only the second time I had done so but it already felt like a habit. The camp was still and the early morning air was cool but not cold. I enjoyed the newish experience. There was hardly any movement. I could barely see the walls. There were no torches lit there; any such light would ruin the sentinels' night vision, which had been enhanced by the battle mages, one of them taking the duty each evening, wandering off and back again when the deed was done. Not for the first time, I thought that the battle mages had the best job in the camp. Hardly any duties and no responsibilities worth the mention. Their booty share was high, too.
lastkingsamazon Page 5
