by Robert Adams
"I have set those loyal servants not under arms to drawing water from the spring and the wells to fill all the cisterns. When they are done, they will set about tearing down the storage sheds outside the walls and carting the lumber within—the nearer fences as well—that we shall not lack for fuel."
"The only severe shortage will be grain and hay for the animals and the horse brothers and sisters. I sent a man to fetch back any forage that might be in Hohryos Morguhn, but he has not yet returned."
Komees Djeen's head bobbed a curt nod. "Very well, Feelahks, you have done well. I can but wish we had more fighters. It's a far stretch of wall for fifty-seven men and six noble Kindred to cover."
"Six noble Kindred?" Bili suddenly yelped. "What about me? If you think, Kinsman Djeen, that you're going to deny me a share of the battle, just because of a bump on my head and a nick in my leg . . ."
Mother Mahrnee's hand over his mouth muffled the rest. "Of course Bili will fight. And both my sister and I are adept with sling and hunting bow; nor are our boar-spears partial to only the blood of beasts."
"Unless this be a private war," Master Ahlee said gravely, "you may include a physician who once was a warrior in your tally. Still can I cast an accurate spear, nor am I inexperienced in matters of the sword."
Komees Djeen grinned wolfishly. "All right, Feelahks Sami, you heard; everyone in this room will fight. You may add four more to your tally roll." Then, a look of sadness crept over his face and he looked again at the recumbent form on the cot. "Would Sun would allow it to be five."
——«»——«»——«»——
Dawn saw the Council party in the saddle. After a stirrup cup, they saw the gates close behind them and set out for Morguhnpolis at a brisk trot. In order that the hall might be the better manned, the party had been held to a bare minimum, every man of them armed to the teeth. Three hundred yards ahead of them, a single trooper rode point, his orders to return and warn, rather than fight, in the event of trouble.
Bili and Djehf rode in the van, Bili absorbed at trying to establish a decent rapport with the chestnut gelding who was Mahvros' temporary replacement, Djehf still a little dazed at the rapid and unexpected change in his rank and status. He knew that as soon as the present troubles were resolved, he must send a messenger to Eeree, for now he was never to return. With his father inches from death and his uncle slain, Bili was virtual Thoheeks and Chief, while he was automatically Tahneest. He knew not whether to laugh or weep, so he kept his mouth tightly shut.
The second pair of riders were Komees Djeen and Vahrohnos Spiros, who both rode in silence, each full of his own thoughts and worries. The third pair were Clan Bard Hail and Bard Klairuhnz. Hail's lips moved silently as he composed new verses to the "Song of Morguhn," while Klairuhnz was in mindspeak with Master Ahlee, on a mental level to which few men or women could attain.
Save for the fact that his sash now supported an exotcally decorated, double-curved saber, Ahlee's outward appearance was but little changed. His flowing white robe still billowed, but now it concealed a long-sleeved brigandine and a brace of wavy-bladed daggers, and his head-wrappings covered a steel skullcap.
Although he had both war training and experience, Ahlee basically disliked harming a fellow man under most circumstances. But what these people faced, unbelievers though they assuredly were, was a different and distinctly sinister thing, a true horror; and he was convinced that to aid them in their uneven struggle against such evil would be to strive for Ahlah. When again he thought upon the things—the godless, unclean, monstrous things—which his hypnotism had drawn from the mind and memory of that prisoner, he shuddered from head to foot. For spiritual solace, he began to chant holy verses.
The mercenary who rode beside him, leading a pack mule, listened briefly, failed to understand the ancient tongue, but decided that a song was just the thing to help speed this almost-done and boring ride; whereupon he launched into an endless and endlessly obscene soldiers' song. Bili knew the particular ditty and took it up, anything to relieve some of the maddening tension. After some score of choruses, Djehf bawled a few original and recent verses from Eeree.
The bawdy old ballad brought fond memories to Komees Djeen and a broad smile to his face, and he joined in as well. Though he knew neither the song itself nor memories of it, Spiros found himself joining in the catchy, nonsensical chorus. And when others' recall failed, Clan bard Hail provided extemporaneous and topical verses.
While his physical being sang with the rest, Klairuhnz mindspoke Ahlee, saying, "These fine men cannot know or even suspect just how incredibly ancient this song really is. Nor do they realize that near two score generations of their ancestors have sung it."
"Did my antecedents also sing it, Lord?" queried the physician.
"Oh, yes, Ahlee," replied the Bard. "In those long-ago days, we were all one nation, speaking one language."
"Most remarkable," Ahlee commented, adding, "It is certain that I have then chosen aright, for surely you and your few peers are much loved of Ahlah, that He has vouchsafed you such long life."
——«»——«»——«»——
The guards at the eastern gate of Morguhnpolis were Freefighters, mostly from the Middle Kingdoms. They laughed and buffeted each other in delight, as the noble lords entered the city singing a song they considered their own, and they enthusiastically added their voices to a chorus, feeling a fierce kinship with these fellow fighting men.
Thus augmented, the last chorus roared up the all but deserted east-west thoroughfare, "HINKEE DINKEE PAHRLEE VOOOOT!"
9
Bili's party dismounted before the city palace, more than three hundred years old, dating from the period before his ancestors had crossed the mountains, when Morguhnpolis—then called Eeleeoheepolis—had been the northwestern jewel of the Crown of Karaleenos. It was an impressive building, fashioned of native granite and faced with that hauntingly beautiful gray-green limestone from Kehnooryos Ehlahs. Its main chamber was almost as large as the outer courtyard of Morguhn Hall and was columned and paved with colored and veined marbles; but it was very difficult to heat, so was seldom used for anything. The footfalls of the noblemen echoed as they traversed the length of the huge chamber and mounted the wide marble stairs toward the second-floor Council Chamber.
Komees Djeen frowned at sight of the four pikemen ranged before the tall, brass-sheathed doors of the Council's meeting room. They were not the usual Freefighter guards, but rather civilian Spear levymen, Ehleenoee all. A skinny corporal of the same body stood just behind the pikemen, holding his knife-edged thrusting spear as though it were a frog gig.
Eyes fixed dead ahead, Bili and Djehf clanked toward the doors, outwardly unconcerned. After nervously licking his lips, the corporal hissed a whispered order and the levymen sloppily presented their pikes, no two at the same angle. Komees Djeen snorted in disgust and made a decidedly uncomplimentary remark concerning gutterscum playing at soldier.
Bili and Djehf marched forward until the glittering points were but inches from their breastplates. The brothers stood thus for a moment. Then Djehf suddenly grasped the crossbar of the pike before him and savagely jerked it from the hands of its wielder. The levyman spun half around and, ere he could turn back, Djehf dropped the captured pike and booted the man's rump so hard that he went sprawling, sliding a good way down the slick floor of the side hallway on his breastplate. Grinning, he reached for a second pike, but the levymen hastily grounded their weapons and backed up until the walls ended their retreat, leaving their corporal to guard the portals alone.
"The Council Chamber," began that worthy, in a piping falsetto squeak. He flushed, cleared his throat, presented the long, wide blade of his spear, and started over. "The Council Chamber is forbidden to any save confirmed members of the Thirds!" He spoke in Old Ehleeneekos.
Komees Djeen shouldered between Bili and Djehf, demanding, "What language are you grunting in, you puling shoat?"
Before the unhappy man could frame an
answer, Djehf's powerful hand had closed on the shaft of the short spear. In a brittle voice, he announced, "If you don't let go of that piece of junk, dung-face, by Sun and Wind, I'll bugger you with it!"
The corporal did let go, but not quickly enough to suit Djehf, who jerked the Ehleen away from the closed door, spun him about, and jabbed a good two inches of the broad spearpoint into his seat. The man screamed, then sped down the side hall, clutching at his bleeding posterior and howling like a moon-mad hound. Three pikes fell clattering and three pikemen followed their wounded leader as fast as their legs would carry them.
Jerking wide the brazen doors, the brothers stalked into the Council Chamber, the rest of their party hard on their heels.
——«»——«»——«»——
The T-shaped Council Table filled the center of the chamber. The places of the Second and Third Thirds were ranged on either side of the shaft, while those of the First Third were along the crossbar. No one, of course, occupied the chairs of the First, but all five of the Third were filled and four of the second had occupants. A bench against the side wall held a flashy fop, a black-bearded man in the robes of a sub-priest, and a beefy, balding lout in a stained butcher's apron. At each of the chamber's four corners stood a Spearlevyman with grounded pike, all obviously of near-pure Ehleen blood.
Speaking no word, glancing neither to right nor left, Bili strode to the central chair of the First Third. Before he seated himself, however, he drew his heavy broadsword and laid it near to hand, pointing it down the length of the T's shaft. He imperiously waved his brother to the chair at his right, while Komees Djeen moved to his accustomed place, along with Spiros and Hail. Klairuhnz leaned a hip against the end of the table, near Ahndee's empty seat. Master Ahlee had carefully closed the doors and now loitered close to them.
Bili let his gaze travel down the two rows of faces. Nearest him on either side of the board sat Komees Hari and Feelos Pooleeos, the merchant, and the faces of both men looked deeply troubled. Beyond Hari lounged Vahrohnos Myros, a mocking smile on his fleshy lips, but pure, distilled hatred beaming from the glittering black eyes which briefly locked with Bili's. Beyond him sat Drehkos, who gave Bili a nervous, uncertain smile; and Vahrohneeskos Stehfahnos, slender but supple-looking, who stared back levelly and coolly, from eyes as blue as Bili's, despite the Ehleen's black hair.
Across from Ahndee's empty place sat Kooreeos Skiros, apparently oblivious to the highly charged atmosphere. He was talking softly with the wizened, beak-nosed little man on his right, Nathos Evrehos, the goldsmith-moneylender. Lastly, Bili gave a hard stare to Paulos, Guildmaster of the duchy's blacksmiths, and bastard half brother of the dying Thoheeks. The insolent, hateful glare that he got in return set the blood to pounding in his temples. Some of his anger must have been visible, for Komees Djeen hastily laid a hand on Bili's armguard, then hastened to speak before Bili might.
"Why," he demanded in clipped tones, "have our well-paid Freefighters been replaced with pike-toting amateurs, Myros? I'm certain sure it's your idea. Sun and Wind, man, you come up with more harebrained schemes than a full troop of village idiots could concoct! Since we're paying good gold to professional swords, why deprive the fields and streets of ploughboys and dung-scoopers?"
Myros grinned. "There are less than two score mercenaries left, and they remain only because some fool hired them to a contract of twenty-six, rather than twenty-four moons. As fast as the barbarians' contracts expired, I have let them go. Almost all the city guards are now men who bear their arms for their homes and their lands." The Vahrohnos' grin had metamorphosed into a twisted grimace. His features were empurpling with his passion and his eyes gleamed the feral fire of fanaticism. "Not for mere gold do these men bear arms, but for their Faith and their long-lost heritage!"
To Bili, it seemed obvious that his mothers had erred in their judgment of Myros's case, for the rebellious dog appeared to believe every word churned out by his sewer-mouth.
Count Djeen crashed his gauntleted fist against the tabletop, grating, "That cuts it, you boy-loving dung-wallower! Such abuse of your authority cannot be tolerated! You are hereby relieved as governor of this city. Depart this chamber and await Council's censure."
Myros's laugh was cold and sharp as midwinter icicles.
Lounging back in his chair, he exchanged a knowing glance with Kooreeos Skiros, whose teeth flashed through his thick black beard. Then the Vahrohnos stared insolently into the Komees' one blue eye, drawling, "I think not, you old fool, I think not."
The elderly nobleman snapped to the nearest pikeman, "Guard, escort the Vahrohnos Myros from this chamber!"
The levyman only sneered. The Kooreeos' smile broadened, Guildmaster Paulos smirked, and the goldsmith snickered, echoed by the three interlopers on the bench.
"He has stopped taking orders from your ilk, you heathen squatter," said Paulos, through his smirk. "We all have. This city of Eeleeoheepolis is back in the hands of its rightful owners and soon all the duchy will be!"
"This city," answered Bili, in a hard voice, "is called Morguhnpolis and is the property of Clan Morguhn, as is the Duchy. That is the established order of things. But the borders of this my Duchy are not closed, as well you know, smith! Any free man who likes not my overlordship has my leave to quit these lands!"
Paulos stood and leaned down the table toward Bili. "Keep barking, you arrogant young puppy, sitting in the chair which should be mine! I, Paulos Morguhn, am rightful owner of Morguhn Hall, and you are all usurpers of my properties and titles and . . ."
Both Myros and the Kooreeos snapped, "Enough, Paulos!"
But there was no stopping the raving man. White patches of froth had formed at the corners of his mouth, his face was working, and his eyes were become wide and wild. ". . . when I am in my own, you'll whine and whimper, not bark! I'll have your nuts out, damn you, I'll have the nuts of all of you what was sired by that boar-hog, Hwahruhn! And I'll sell your brothers for poosteesee, and I'll keep you to be my own love-boy, after I get tired of plowing the butter-haired bitches what whelped you! And I'll . . ."
Bili and Hail were a fraction of a second too late in attempting to restrain Djehf. The weight of his armor notwithstanding, he leapt onto the table. In the twinkling of an eye, he was down its length and the steel-shod toe of his hardswung boot had smashed Paulos's mouth to a pulpy red ruin! The Guildmaster's chunky body went back into his chair with such force that the wood cracked, splintered, collapsed, and dumped him on the floor. He lay half-conscious, moaning and making gurgling noises.
Myros jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. Waving it at Djehf, he shouted at the pikemen, "Kill the heathen!"
As the first levyman to obey stepped abreast of Master Ahlee, he abruptly voiced a keening wail and let go his pike to clutch at his left side. Ahlee pushed his victim away and, half turning, threw the bloody dagger at another pikeman. All six inches of wavy blade disappeared into that man's belly, just below his breastplate. His scream sounded unearthly.
Myros, too, screamed, at the top of his lungs. "GUARDS! GUARDS! TO ME!"
A multitude of feet pounded along the side corridors, but Ahlee snatched up the pike at his feet and ran the thick ash shaft through the gilded-bronze door rings. He turned back and drew his silver-hilted yataghan barely in time to counter the vicious downswing of Myros's saber. But a twist of the brown wrist all but spun the weapon from Myros's grasp and Ahlee's lightening-fast riposte would have hamstrung the Vahrohnos, had he not hastily hopped backward. And speedily as the Ehleen moved, his opponent's blade still managed to slice into the upper cuff of his boot, bringing blood from the flesh it covered.
Knifing the first pikeman, Bili had kicked over his chair, grasped his naked broadsword, and bounded over to cut down the closest levyman. The last pikeman did manage to reach the table, but as he made shift to jab at young Djehf, the straps of his breastplate were grabbed by Komees Hari, who jerked him backward while running the full length of his dress dirk between the short ribs. F
reeing his blade with a cruel twist, he snatched up the falling pike and backed to stand beside Spiros Morguhn.
The merchant, Feelos Pooleeos, hastily armed himself with the pike, sword, and helm of Bili's victim and took his place with the Kindred nobles.
Although Myros had always been accounted one of the best swordsmen of the duchy, he found himself fighting for his very life! Since his initial downswing, he had been constantly on the defensive, never having the opportunity to attack, all his skill and strength directed to keep the flickering, steel blur which was his adversary's cursive blade out of his flesh. Nor had his best efforts been entirely successful, for he showed blood in three places and was being driven back across the room.
"Stehfahnos!" he finally panted. "Help me!"
But Stehfahnos' sword stayed in its scabbard and Stehfahnos himself was dead on the marble floor. The youngest Morguhn left the tabletop to engage the butcher and the fop, who were trying to unbar the doors.
Cursing, the fop left the butcher to tug at the tightly-wedged pikeshaft alone. Drawing a slender, ornate thrusting sword, he extended his arm to jab at the armored man's unprotected face. Djehf's powerful upswing shattered the fop's brittle weapon and his downstroke severed the sword arm, just above the wrist. The fop fell to his knees, staring in horrified fascination at his hand lying before him on the floor, slowly releasing its grip on the hilt of the broken sword.
Djehf stalked purposefully toward the butcher. Unarmed, that man backed along the wall, his hands held before him. His fear-filled eyes locked on that broad, bloody blade.
Kooreeos Skiros stood at the table, alternately calling for the guards and vainly shouting a command for all combat to cease. Klairuhnz stood close by the cleric, watching his every move. All at once, he leaned close and spoke a few words. Bili failed to hear the Bard's words, for they came at the same time as the butcher's death cries, and also because someone in the corridor had collected his wits and brought up something to use as a ram. The doors were groaning and the two-inch pikeshaft beginning to crack.
