by Robert Adams
Mainahkos frowned, sniffed, sneezed and wiped his nose on the wine-and-food-spotted sleeve of his fine linen shirt, considering the suggestion.
Ahreekos shoved aside what little was left of the whole suckling pig on which he had feasted, drained off a half-liter mug of beer, belched thunderously twice, broke wind just as thunderously, then nodded his agreement with the cavalry officer, giving no more thought to his grease-glazed beard than he did to the flies that crawled on and in it and buzzed about his face.
"Stehrgiahnos, he's right, you know, Mainahkos. From whatall my scouts done told me, that army a-coming against us ain't one like I'd of cared to face three, four years ago, when we was at full stren'th. And they got them elephants, too. My boys see'd three of the critters, and you know fucking good and well it's gotta be more of them.
"Look, why don't we send out Stehrgiahnos here and a couple more fellers of his stripe and let them palaver with the strahteegos of that army some, huh? Ain't no fucking thing to be lost by that, is it?"
Pausing briefly to lift a bulging buttock and again break wind, he then continued, "Look, Mainahkos, old Thoheeks Grahvos and them over there in Mehseepolis is making new thoheeksee and komeesee and vahrohnosee and opokomeesee right and left and up and down all over the place, I hear tell, and like Stehrgiahnos just done said, you got you about as good a claim as anybody's got to thishere city and duchy. Hell, your claim's a fucking lot better nor most, you're sitting in it, holding it, and you been doing it for three fucking years, too.
"So it could be, when you look hard at ever'thing, if you allow as how you'll stand ahind Thoheeks Grahvos and his Council and all them, won't be no battle or war at all and you'll wind up as the real, legal thoheeks. And if ever'thing don't work out, we can always fight after we done talking."
Mainahkos sat picking between his discolored teeth with a cracked and very filthy thumbnail for a while, his gaze fixed on a blue fly that had wandered into a dollop of hot-pepper sauce and looked to be in its death throes. Taking a mouthful of wine from the heavy gilded-silver goblet, he swished it about briefly, then spat it out onto the once-fine carpet beside his chair, guzzled down the rest of the wine, and sat rolling the stem between his greasy hands as he announced his decision.
"Hell, you right, Ahreekos, and you too, Stehrgiahnos, ain't no fucking thing gonna be lost by talking with them bastids, maybe a whole damn lot to be gained, if things comes to go right with that talking. But I still want the levy raised and marched out at the same time, too. And I want word sent over there to old Ratface Billisos and Horsecock Kawlos to bring in ever' swinging dick what they can lay claws to from the western and northern komeeseeahnee. And tell them to bring all the mounts and supplies and beeves they can beg, borrer or steal, too. If it works out that we have to fight, I wants ever'thing I can get on our side."
It was a long, slow, very frustrating march for the army led by Grand Strahteegos Komees Pahvlos Feelohpohlehmos. Only three days out, the captain of pioneers died of heart failure after being bitten by a watersnake while supervising the strenghtening of a bridge; the head eeahtros reported to Pahvlos that fright or heart failure must have killed the officer, for an examination of the front half of the dead serpent had determined it to not be a poisonous one at all, though a rather large specimen of its kind.
At the next wide river, several very long, massive krokothehliohsee were observed by the scouts, and Pahvlos insisted that the dangerous, armored horrors be caught on land or in the shallows and speared to death before he would allow men or beasts to use the deep, difficult ford. One of the scaly monsters was found to be more than seven and a quarter mehtrahee long, its tooth-studded jaws and head being every bit as long as the strahteegos was tall. Officers and not a few others pried and cut out huge, pointed teeth for souvenirs, and the white meat from the thick, muscular tails became a part of the evening's rations—a welcome change from bread and beans and stringy beef for those lucky enough to get some of it.
A week farther along the abdominable roadway, the scouts sent back a galloper to report that at some time in the recent years, a colony of beavers had built a long, high, thick dam that had turned a small vale that the road had crossed into a spreading lake. A study of the map showed Pahvlos that if he backtracked for three or four days, he would be able to cut another road that would eventually lead him to a place from which he could reach his objective by way of a cross-country march of seven or eight additional days.
Rather than waste so much more time, he marched on and went into camp on the marshy shore of the lake, then set his pioneers, artificiers and as many common soldiers as were needed to break apart and tear out the beaver dam. When the most of the water had drained away, the hard-worked pioneers probed what had been the bottom muck and marked the roadway so that sweating, cursing companies of pikemen could scoop up and shovel away the stuff to reveal the fitted stones beneath it. This way, the delay was only two days, not twelve.
Farther on, the van had just passed yet another in the seemingly endless succession of overgrown, burned-out village ruins when, from the direction of a slighted hold atop a small, steep hill, a head-sized stone was hurled in a high arc that brought it down squarely atop a trooper, smashing in the helmet and the skull beneath it. The van prudently retired out of supposed range and sent a galloper back to alert the main column. Even as they sat their horses with a small copse blocking sight of the vine-grown, damaged walls, they could clearly hear the rhythmic creaking as the engine which had thrown the heavy stone was rewound.
Then, up the road, preceded by the furious clash and jingle of metal on metal, the pounding of many hooves and the squeaking of leather, came Grand Strahteegos Komees Pahvlos, his staff, his bodyguards and a hundred heavy horse. The lancer officer rode out to meet his commander and rendered a terse report of the incident and his response to it.
Pahvlos nodded once. "Good man. I'll remember you. You're certain your trooper is dead, then, up there?" He pointed with his chin at the twisted form that lay on the road ahead.
"He's not moved a muscle since we withdrew, my lord," was the sad reply. "And no man could have survived such a buffet, not even for a minute."
The Grand Strahteegos nodded once more, then turned to those behind him. "Galloper, my regards to Lord Sub-strahteegos Tomos Gonsalos. Tell him that I want his Number One and Number Two regiments up here at the run." As that rider saluted and reined about, the old man was already snapping out instructions to another galloper, this one being sent to order up several of the lighter engines of the siege train. An officer of the heavy horse was ordered to take a strong patrol in a wide swing completely around the partially wrecked hold and determine if there might be bodies of troops hidden where they could not be seen from there on the roadway. The new-made captain of pioneers was ordered to seek a nearby site for a night camp and begin to pace off and mark the lines of a defensive ditch and mound for it.
Within an hour's time, the two regiments of pikemen were beginning to regain their breath where they knelt or squatted in formation at the side of the road, the snaps of whips and the shouted obscenities and curses of the teamsters could be heard approaching with the wagons which contained the pieces of the dismantled engines, and the patrol of heavy horse had just returned, all red-faced and dusty-sweaty.
Their captain lifted off his helm and peeled back the mail-sewn padded coif as he approached. Drawing rein before the Grand Strahteegos, he saluted and said tiredly, "My lord Strahteegos, yon's wilderness around here, all of it, not a field's been worked in years, and the only life to be seen the whole ride was deer, wild turkeys and the like."
"What does that pile up there look like from the other side?" demanded Pahvlos. "More damaged or less?"
"Less, my lord," was the answer. "Although vines have engulfed it too, it looks to be sound beneath them, but although I had two men dismount and creep quite close through some dense brush, they could neither see nor hear anything from within the ruined hold."
"Thank you,
Captain," said Pahvlos in dismissal. "You've done well."
Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn chose this time to leave the huddle of mounted staff and ride up until he was knee to knee with the Grand Strahteegos. "Lord Pahvlos . . . ? You do mean to camp here and attack in the morning?"
"Most astute, Lord Pawl." Pahvlos nodded. "Yes, that's my intent. It will soon be too dark for accurate engine work, and my experience with night attacks has shown them to be extremely tricky with results that are inconsistent. I think a dawn attack will be best. Besides, in the night we may be able to judge by the number of firelights just how many men may be facing us in there."
"I have a better way than that to tell you how many they are, Lord Pahvlos," said the Vawn. "But it were better to wait until full dark to do it."
"Oh, no," snapped the commander. "You and your forces are too precious to the army to risk even one of you getting killed sneaking into that pile and then out again. It won't be all that difficult an assault in the morning, anyway. Look you, man, there are two breaches in the walls, and those gates look rickety as hell, to me, so much so that we may not need a heavy ram to burst them in, only a light, rope-slung one. With your archers and the engines to keep the bastards down or dodging, the pikemen ought to be able to go up there and into the place with minimal losses, if any."
Vawn shook his head. "Lord Pahvlos, I was not thinking of sending a man in, but rather a prairiecat."
The Ehleen shrugged. "What would that accomplish, man? Yes, the cat might well kill or injure a few of them and so upset the rest as to keep them sleepless through the remainder of the night, but they'd probably kill the beast in the end."
"No, my lord," said the Horseclansman chief, "I can instruct the cat to remain unseen and to not attack unless attacked, to count the two-legs inside and bring that information back to me."
Grand Strahteegos Komees Pahvlos still could not bring himself to fully believe even that humans could communicate through the mind only, much less that they could thus carry on two-way conversations with dumb beasts, but he had seen and heard and experienced enough in past months to seriously undermine the foundations of his doubts.
As the dawn was beginning to streak the eastern sky with rosy red and orange, Captain Chief Pawl came to the bustling scene boiling around and about the pavilion of the commander. He was admitted at once and he found the old Grand Strahteegos fully clothed and armored and looking as fresh as if he had had the night's sleep that Pawl knew he had not.
Setting down his cup of watered wine, Pahvlos asked, "Well, did the cat return safely?"
Pawl Vawn nodded. "Yes, my lord, Deerbane is in camp once more. He says that there is no recent trace of any save one two-legs in all of that place. He saw that two-legs, watched him from hiding for an hour or more. He says that he limps badly and only has one eye and that there are some strange peculiarities in his mind. Before you order the attack, my lord, why not send a herald? I'll go myself."
"No, you won't," said Pahvlos, with finality. "I went through all this yesterday, as I recall. You Horseclanners are too valuable to me to risk the unnecessary loss of even one of you. Lancers, on the other hand, are expendable; I'll send a lancer officer and we'll see how many nonexistent men he can spot."
A creamy-white silken square rippling from his lance shaft, young Poolos of Apahtahpolis, ensign of lancers, rode back from the hold at a fast amble.
"Well, boy?" snapped Pahvlos. "One at least of the bastards spoke with you, we could hear your voices if not your words. What did he have to say about why he had us attacked yesterday? 1 hope you've made him aware that we have a full, field force out here."
"My lord," replied the young man, "the man who bespoke me styles himself A hrkehkooreeos toi Ahthees and—"
"The Archbishop of Hell?" asked Pahvlos with patent disbelief. "Do you think you might've misunderstood him, Ensign?"
With a sigh, the young officer replied, "No, my lord, rather I think that the poor man is quite mad. By his speech, he is a nobleman, but he is dressed in rags and old, ill-kept armor, with not even a patch to cover his empty right eyesocket."
Pahvlos turned to glance sharply at Pawl Vawn, who simply smiled.
"How many besides him did you see, Ensign?"
"Not a one, my lord. I ... my lord, I think that he may be the only living soul in that ruin," answered the lancer officer. "As to why a stone was loosed yesterday, he said that no man could pass through his lands without paying a toll."
Pahvlos overrode the justifiable objections of his staff and insisted upon riding with his bodyguards just behind the second widespread skirmish line of pikemen as they converged upon the battered and vine-grown hold. As they drew nearer, they could begin to see details through one of the breaches in the wall, enough to be able to tell that the interior building stiii showed traces of the fire that had partially consumed it at some long-ago time.
As they had departed the roadway, near to the site of the previous day's killing, the slamming of an engine arm against its rope-padded crossbar had heralded the arcing flight of another stone, but this time it was fully expected and, its flight being watched, the men closest to where it looked about to land simply moved out of its way.
After that, the Horseclansmen had maintained a steady drizzle of their black-shafted arrows on the place to make certain that a man would need to risk his life in order to service an engine. And no more stones or other missiles had been directed at the lines of assaulters.
When the pikemen were almost under the very walls, a signal stopped the flights of arrows, then a dozen of the assault troops entered through each of the two breaches, unbarred the splintered gates and thus provided a way for the horsemen to ride into the weedy courtyard.
Aside from an arrow-quilled medium engine, the only signs of man in the courtyard were a small vegetable garden to one side and a line of weathered, yellowed skulls rattling loosely on the rusty blades of as many warped, leaning spear hafts.
"All right," sighed Pahvlos, sitting his warhorse beside the engine, "you officers break up your pikemen into groups of three or four and root that madman out, him and anyone else you can find. Try to take him alive, but don't lose any of my men in order to do it. And be very careful inside that ruin, too—your armor won't help you if a floor breaks through or the roof caves in on you."
But a full hour of thorough searching produced only a trail of fresh blood-spatters leading to a wall of bricks that gave every feel and appearance of being as solid as was any other surface in the ruin. To an offer of one of Guhsz Hehluh's officers to have his men fetch back pioneers' tools and start taking down the stretch of wall, the strahteegos shook his white head.
"No, Lieutenant, certainly not. This place is but barely standing intact as it is; you start tearing away at the masonry and we'll all have it down around our ears. I guess we'll just have to give up and leave the poor lunatic here to tend his pitiful garden and howl. But we will render that engine useless before we leave."
"Wait, my lord," said Pawl of Vawn, who had ridden in during the prosecution of the search with a few Horseclansmen and a brace of the prairiecats. "Let me send these cats in there—they'll find him and, likely, a way to get to him, too."
Deerbane and his litter-sister, Hookclaws, moved cautiously into and through the place of moldy smells and charred, rotting wood and the aura of old death on big catfeet, the larger cat leaving his mental imagery of the previous night's foray into this place on the surface of his thought to help to guide his sister in the stygian darkness. Even so, there were several near-mishaps as rubble loosened from its previous lodgments by the incursions of the pikemen fell and brought more down with it. Deerbane remembered the scent pattern of the two-legs that they sought and Hookclaws took it from his mind and they cast back and forth, up and down, until, by chance, they found another way to get behind the wall at which the blood-drop trail had ended; a low opening, it was, and so situated that a two-legs never could have or would have found it.
With blazing
torches held high and with dirks out and ready, the small party filed through the section of wall opened from within by Deerbane's insistent clawings at the bolt. After only a few short paces along slimy slates on which could be seen a line of blood spots, they were confronted by a flight of stairs too narrow for more than one man at a time to climb, and even that one needs must climb sideways, his armor often scraping the stone walls on either side.
When the spiraling way wound past a long bricked-up arrow slit, Pahvlos guessed that they were inside a portion of the outer defenses themselves, possibly within the ancient, original tower keep which had been the basis around which most present-day holds had been built.
At a mehtrah-square landing by another such bricked-up slit, a great gout of blood was to be seen on the floor and the print of a hand was smeared in blood on the rough granite wall.
From up ahead, Hookclaws, who had preceded them, mindspoke back to Pawl Vawn, "Chief of Vawn, there is no danger here in the den of the two-legs. His only sword has a broken blade and he himself will soon go to Wind, so if you would exchange noises with him, you must make haste to this place."
Pawl turned back to Pahvlos and said, "My lord, one of the cats is above. She says that the madman is there, but that we are in no danger from him; his only weapon is a broken sword and he himself is quite near death of his wound. She thinks he might die, in fact, before we reach there do we continue so slowly."
The room was not overlarge, though larger than many of the old-time tower-keep chambers Pahvlos had seen, and the number of men so crowded it that the strahteegos sent a half-dozen back to wait on the narrow stairs. The furnishings were seen to have once been very fine, but now dust, mold, dry rot, vermin and lack of care had had their destructive way. The filthy old mattress, now stained anew with red blood, strained against the half-rotten ropes that supported it on the massive bedframe of carven and inlaid fruitwoods, even the all-but-negligible weight of the skeletal figure who lay upon it in his rags and dirt and matted hair seeming to be almost all that the strands could bear.
