by David Weber
It was a particularly hot and muggy day and the room had both windows open to catch the breeze. One of Marduk’s gully washers had just finished, and even the skeeters seemed to be sluggish as they struggled through the incredibly humid air.
“He could be collaborating with Cord’s enemies,” Kosutic suggested, tugging at an earlobe. “The other two tribes. The . . .” She paused to consult her toot and slapped at a bug. Her hand came away red. “Hah!”
“Dutak and Arnat,” Roger said offhandedly. He was holding a bit of meat up, trying to teach the dog-lizard simple obedience. “Sit!”
It wasn’t working. The dog-lizard measured the distance to the meat, the gravitational forces, and Roger’s own reactions, and flashed out like a snake.
“Damn,” Kosutic said with a laugh, wiping her hand on the tabletop. “Down another morsel, Your Highness?”
“Yeah,” Roger said sourly. The animal was friendly enough, and seemed to be intelligent, but it was completely uninterested in learning tricks. It came when called, but not if too much time elapsed between treats. Although, even when it wasn’t called, it followed Roger around most of the time now. When he went to the audience, it had been closed up in one of the smaller rooms and, from reports, none too happy about it. It had two vocalizations: a sort of hissing purr that it made when it was happy, and a battle-roar. The dog-lizard was still young, but its roar was already rather loud.
“You should name it,” Kosutic told him. “Call it ‘Bullseye.’ ”
“’Cause it’s so accurate at taking bits from my hand?” Roger sounded testy.
“No, because one of these days you’re gonna shoot it!”
“If we can get back to business?” Pahner suggested. “Sergeant Major, do you actually find it likely that Xyia Kan is collaborating with the other tribes?”
“Nope. That was more in the nature of brainstorming, Sir. I’m fairly sure that Cord or his brother has some intelligence on those tribes, and we should check that out with Cord. If they do, they’d be bound to know about something that large.”
“Agreed.” O’Casey said. “Cultures at that level usually know, in a broad sense, what’s going on with surrounding tribes. If one of the tribes were preparing for a full-scale assault, it would be known.”
“And these people don’t seem to have roving mercenaries,” Pahner observed. He pulled out his pack of gum and counted the slices, then carefully put it back away in its sealed container. “What’s the upside for one of the other Houses?”
“Unknown.” O’Casey consulted a pad and snorted. “What I wouldn’t give for a copy of The Prince right about now! Fortunately, I’ve got most of it memorized, but we need more information.”
“Right.” Pahner scratched his chin. “I think we need to bug the Great Houses.”
“What pretense could we use?” Kosutic asked. “Why do they let us in?”
“Well,” O’Casey mopped her brow again, “we’re going to have to buy equipment and supplies anyway. Why don’t we send a squad and one of the officers around with a list of bids?”
“That could work.” Pahner started to fish out his gum again, and stopped. “We’ll just send Julian along.”
“Why do we care?” Roger asked. He had, with difficulty, placed a morsel of meat on the dog-lizard’s nose. Now he slowly withdrew his hand, planning on stepping back before giving the dog-lizard the word that she could have the choice bit.
The dog-lizard had other ideas. The instant the pressure of his hand on her snout was relieved, she flashed her muzzle in two directions with an intervening “Clop.”
“Damn.” Roger gave up for the time being and looked up with a shrug. “I mean, why should we care if these barbs beat each other bloody? We just need to get our supplies and get out of the way. Let The People overrun them. Or not.”
He looked around at the staring faces, and gave another shrug.
“What? We’re not here to save the world; we’re here to get off it. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me, Captain Pahner?”
“We’re going to be here for a few days at least, Your Highness,” O’Casey pointed out carefully. “We need a fairly stable area to prepare in before we head out.”
“And we need the local boss backing us,” Kosutic said, without meeting the prince’s eye. “Having strong backing is a whole different thing from just having him say ‘ain’t that nice.’ If the King is really backing us, we’ll have a much easier time. The troops will have an easier time.”
“Correct, Sergeant Major,” Pahner said formally. “I strongly recommend, Colonel, that we obtain more intelligence before we fail from either action or inaction.”
“Oh, very well,” Roger said. “But I hate the thought of staying in one place any longer than necessary.” He looked out the window towards the distant jungle. “Maybe Cord and I can see what sort of game there is in the jungle.”
“If you do, Your Highness,” Pahner said in a painfully expressionless tone, “might I ask that you take a significant force with you. Also, we won’t be able to spare the armor. We seriously drained the power systems on the march here; we’ll need to pack the gear from here on out.”
“And that means we need some of those big pack beasts, Sir,” Kosutic said. “And handlers for them.”
“And we need local weapons,” Pahner agreed. “We have to have the advanced equipment to take the port and for emergencies, but we need to obtain local weaponry and start training with it as soon as possible.”
“And all of that will take money and time,” O’Casey said. “And that will require a stable base.”
“I got it.” Roger sounded even testier than he’d intended, but the heat and humidity were starting to get to him. “I’ll talk to Cord about the training. He’s been wanting to teach me the spear already. I’d prefer a sword, though.”
“Be hard to make a good sword with this rotten metal they’ve got.” Kosutic looked around as the others regarded her with surprise and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal; I know that much about swords. Good ones are made out of fine steel, and I don’t see much steel around here.”
“We’ll have to see what we can find,” Pahner said. “Sergeant Major, I want you to get with the platoon sergeants. We don’t let the troops out until we get the lay of the land. I’ll assign that to you, initially. Move out with a group and get a feel for what we’re dealing with and what sorts of trade we can get for our items. And when the troops do go out, I want them moving in groups. Understood?”
“Understood, Sir. What are we going to do for pay?”
“Is that a problem?” Roger was surprised. “We’re feeding and clothing them, and they are getting paid. We just don’t have access to it.”
“It will be, eventually, Your Highness,” Pahner told him. “The troops will want to buy souvenirs, local food . . .”
“Alcohol,” Kosutic grunted.
“That, too,” Pahner admitted with a grin. “And that takes pay. We’ll need to factor that into our budget.”
“Arrgh!” Roger clasped his head in his hands. “I don’t care what we get for those shovels and lighters. It won’t be enough!”
“All the more reason to have a friend at court, Your Highness,” Pahner pointed out, then glanced at the others. “I think that wraps it up. I’ll pass on the relevant sections to the lieutenants, including the intel pass. Sergeant Major, tomorrow I want you find the local market and check it out. Take a squad and a couple of the headquarters people with you.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kosutic said. She already had the relevant group in mind.
“Your Highness,” Pahner said, “I know you feel cooped up here. But I’d really prefer that you not go hunting in that jungle.”
“I understand,” Roger sighed. Maybe the heat was sapping him, but he just didn’t feel like getting into an argument. “But I can circulate in the city?”
“With sufficient security,” Pahner conceded with a thankful nod. “At least a squad and fully armed.”
“But not armor,” Roger argued.
“Fine,” Pahner said with a slight smile, then nodded briskly. “I think we’ve got us a plan, people.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lieutenant Gulyas looked elsewhere as Julian dealt with the guards.
“My officer has come upon matters of trade,” the sergeant said grandly. “He wishes to speak to the Kl’ke.” The Mardukan guard might overtop him by a meter and a half, but a Marine could out hauteur any old barb. “We are expected,” he concluded with a slight sniff of derision.
The guard looked down his nose at the diminutive human, but turned and banged on the door.
The House of Kl’ke was of a piece with the other Great Houses the squad had visited. The walls were granite, unlike the wood of the rest of the town, and coated in highly decorated plaster. The walls of the Great Houses were covered in bas reliefs and decorative arches, and the dominant theme of each House’s art was its primary trade. In the case of Kl’ke, the bas reliefs depicted a variety of forest prey, for the House had been founded on the skin and leather trade. There were no windows on the first floor, and, as in the citadel visitors’ quarters, the narrow openings in the second-story walls were more like arrow slits than windows.
As with all the other Houses, the front door was massive—over two stories high and constructed like a castle gate. The heavy wood was a Mardukan equivalent of ironwood that was virtually impervious to fire, and the door was banded and studded with bronze. Knocking it down would require time and a good battering ram.
Set into it, again, was another of those odd doors like the entrance to their visitors’ quarters. Low enough to require a Mardukan to duck to enter it, it not only put a visitor’s head in position to be opened up like an egg, but also symbolically caused him to bow to the holder of the House.
The lower portal opened to reveal another impassive guard. This worthy waved them in, and they entered one by one. Unlike Mardukans, the humans could walk through standing up.
The interior was similar to a series of concentric Roman villas. The outer wall held inward-facing rooms on all levels, but there was also an “inner” building of wood which was where the majority of the House’s business was conducted. The area immediately behind the gate was a vaulted entranceway, with several doors to either side. It was open on the inner side, revealing the gardens that surrounded the inner sanctum.
The guard led them through the gardens and from there into the inner house. This was also open at the center, and surrounded yet another garden. Passing around the edge of this garden, they entered the back of the house, where Gulyas and Julian were separated from their squad of guards and led to a small, high-ceilinged room. The room was open on both sides to let in the air, and the walls were of multiple woods, cunningly crafted to give an impression of rolling waves. It held a high table, behind which the Kl’ke stood making notes in a ledger.
Gulyas had the spiel down pat now and nodded to Julian, who began laying out samples.
“As you know, Sir,” the lieutenant began, “we are visitors from a far land. The items that we carry are very few, but of such surpassing workmanship that each is, in itself, a jewel of craftsmanship.”
Julian had laid out the chameleon cloth, and now began demonstrating the utility of the multitool. The part that got to the Kl’ke was the same as the one which had so intrigued all the house-leaders: the final “blade” function which cut cleanly and easily through one of the soft iron spearheads.
“There are only a limited number of each of these items, and when they’re gone, they’re gone. We’ll be holding an auction for each of them,” the lieutenant continued as Julian demonstrated Eterna-lights and fuelless lighters.
“The auction is to be held in the public square on the fifth of T’Nuh.” That was six days from now; time enough for the Houses to conspire to cheat them if they so chose. Of course, the humans would be listening to every word if they did.
“In conclusion,” Gulyas said, stepping forward, “let me offer you this lighter. It is useful for starting any type of fire, and is impervious to wind.”
The lieutenant demonstrated this time, ensuring that the bug was well and truly planted on the alien. He’d let Julian plant the others, but he wanted to do at least one himself.
“Does the Kl’ke have any questions?”
The Mardukan thumbed the lighter and held it to a piece of the local paper until it flamed. He put the small fire out quickly, and cocked his head at the humans.
“You say ‘not many’ of these devices,” he said, gesturing with the technological artifact. “How many is ‘not many’?”
“That hasn’t yet been determined,” Gulyas admitted. “For the multitools, somewhere between seven and twelve.”
“Ah.” The house-leader made a Mardukan gesture of agreement. “Not many, indeed. Very well, I shall ensure that a factor is present to bid and has full instructions.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Gulyas said. “And, of course, most of the money will be coming back to Q’Nkok. We’ll be purchasing food, equipment, and pack beasts for our long journey.”
“Ah, yes.” The Mardukan lord grunted a laugh. “Your quest for fabled Voitan.”
“It isn’t actually Voitan we seek, Sir,” Gulyas corrected tactfully. “But from Voitan there are routes to the northeast. Thus we must pass near Voitan.”
“Well, it’s still a waste of good transport,” the Mardukan said with another grunt. He seemed undisturbed by their probable death. “But I have a full stable of the beasts. The best in the city.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” the lieutenant said, bowing his way out of the room.
“See that you do,” the house-leader snapped as he went back to his ledger.
Roger looked into the distorted mirror and turned his head to the side. The ponytail left hair dangling everywhere, especially in this damp heat. What he really needed was a braid but there was a problem with that. Finally, he took two more leather ties and wrapped the ponytail in the middle and at the bottom. Now if they’d just stay in place, his damned hair would stay out of his face.
The knock on the door was followed by its opening so quickly that the two blended. He spun in place to scorch whoever it was, but paused when he saw that it was Despreaux. Just because he was having a bad hair day didn’t mean the sergeant should be blasted.
“What?” Unfortunately, the question came out before he could control his irritated tone. So even without meaning to, he managed to sound like a jerk.
“Captain Pahner has called a meeting for 14:30,” the sergeant replied blandly.
“Thank you, Sergeant!” the prince snapped, then sighed. “Let me try that again, if you don’t mind. Thank you, Sergeant.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” the Marine said as she closed the door.
“Sergeant?” the prince called hesitantly. They were going to be on this planet for a long time, and he might as well bite the bullet on this one.
“Yes, Your Highness?” Despreaux replied, opening the door again.
“Could I have a moment of your time?” Roger asked, quite sweetly.
“Yes, Your Highness?” the sergeant repeated rather more warily as she stepped into the room.
“If you don’t mind,” Roger said, clearing his throat, “this is somewhat private. Could you close the door?”
Despreaux did, then crossed her arms.
“Yes, Your Highness?” she said for a third time.
“I know you’re not a servant,” the prince said, fiddling with his hair, “but I have a little problem.” He took a deep breath and went on despite the hammerlike look on the sergeant’s face. “It’s something I can’t do for myself: Could you possibly braid my hair for me?”
“There’s no reason for them to notice the plant, Sir,” Julian said as they walked away from the building.
“So why am I drenched in sweat?” Gulyas asked.
“Because . . . it’s hot?” Julian suggested with a smile. “Sir?”
>
Gulyas smiled at the NCO’s quip and stopped to look back at the building.
“What do you think?” he asked quietly. As long as they used Standard, no one was going to be able to know what they were talking about. But it never hurt to be careful.
“Like shooting fish in a barrel, Sir,” Julian responded. “Two exits. Complex interior, but not bad. All the guard rooms at the front, servants at the back, family in the middle. If we need to take one, or even two or three, it won’t be much of an op.” He paused and then continued ruminatively. “Of course, it would use up ammo.”
“Not much,” Gulyas responded. “Okay, only three more to go. You can plant those; that was too much fun for me.”
“Ah, that’s nothing, Sir. Did I ever tell you about the time I stole a space limo?”
“You never learned how to braid your own hair?” Despreaux asked. The prince had the best hair she’d ever run across, solid without being too coarse, and long as a Mardukan day. “This is gorgeous stuff.”
“Thanks,” Roger said calmly. He wasn’t about to tell the sergeant how sensuous it felt to have her brushing it. “Just another legacy of illegal gene engineering.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah,” Roger said ruefully. “No question. I’ve got the twitch muscles of a shark, the reactions of a snake, and way more endurance than I ought to have. Somebody on either Mommy or Daddy’s side, or both, did a lot of engineering back in the Dagger Years, but I guess anyone who had the cash would have done the same thing then, rules or no rules. I even got enhanced night vision out of it.”
“And Lady Godiva’s hair. But you’d better learn how to do this yourself.”
