King Kobold Revived

The dragon ships gave up, turned their noses homeward, and disappeared.

In the midst of the cheering and drinking, Rod shouldered through to Tuan. He grabbed the King by his royal neck and shouted in his ear to make himself heard. “You know it’s not really over yet, don’t you?”

“I know,” the young King replied with dignity, “but I know further that this night is for celebration. Fill a glass and rejoice with us, Lord Warlock. Tomorrow we shall again study war.”

He was up and functioning the next morning, though not happily. He sat in a chair in his tent, gray daylight filtering through the fabric all around him. The sky was still overcast, and so was Tuan. He pressed a cold towel against his forehead, squinting. “Now, Lord Warlock. I will hear the talk that I know I must heed: that our war is not done.”

Brom O’Berin stepped close to the King’s chair, peering up into his face. “I misdoubt me an thou shouldst speak of war when thine head is yet so filled with wine its skin is stretched as taut as a drumhead.”

Tuan answered with a weak and rueful smile. “ ‘Twill do no harm, Lord Councillor; for I misdoubt me an we shall speak of aught which I know not already.”

“Which is,” Rod said carefully, “that if we don’t follow them, they’ll be back.”

Tuan nodded, then winced, closing his eyes. “Aye, Lord Warlock. Next spring, as soon as thunderstorms may start, we shall see them here upon our shores again—aye, I know it.”

Brom frowned. “Yet hast thou thought that they’ll have reasoned out a way to conquer all the power our witches can brew up?”

Tuan grimaced. “Nay, I had not. It strengthens my resolve. We must needs bring the war home to them; we must follow them across the sea, and strike.”

“And the time to strike is now,” Brom rumbled.

Tuan nodded and looked up at Rod. “Yet how shall we bring our army there, Lord Warlock? Canst thou transport so many men and horses with a spell?”

Rod smiled, amused. “I don’t think even Galen could send that many, my liege. But we have discovered that Gramarye has a thriving merchant fleet who would no doubt be delighted to lend their services to helping wiping out a potential pirates’ nest.”

Tuan nodded slowly. “I do believe ‘twould gain their heartfelt cooperation, an thou wert to word it so.”

“It’s just a matter of figuring out their area of self-interest. We’ve also got an amazing number of fishing boats, and their owners will probably be very quick to agree we should forestall any poaching on their fishing-grounds, before it starts.”

The King nodded—again very slowly. “Then thou dost think we may have transport enow.”

“Probably. And what we lack, I think shipwrights can turn out with around-the-clock shifts by the time we’ve gathered all the provisions we’ll need. No, transportation’s not the problem.”

“Indeed?” The King smiled weakly. “What is, then?”

“Fighting the beastmen on their home ground when they’re battling for their lives—and for their wives’ and children’s lives, too.”

Tuan stared at him for a moment. When he spoke his voice was a ghostly whisper. “Aye, ‘twill be a bloody business. And few of those who sail shall be wafted home.”

“If we make it a fight to the death,” Rod agreed.

“What else can it be?” Brom demanded, scowling.

“A coup d’etat.” Rod gri

Tuan shrugged, irritated. “What aid is that, if these people have adhered to their new leader?” But as soon as he’d said it, his gaze turned thoughtful.

Rod nodded. “After a defeat like this, they’re not going to be very happy with the leadership of that shaman, Mughorck, and his Kobold-god. And from what Yorick said, I kinda got the feeling that they never really were screamingly enthusiastic about him anyway—they were just bamboozled into putting him into power in the panic of the moment. If we can make it clear right from the begi

Tuan nodded slowly. “Thou dost speak eminent good sense, Lord Warlock. But how wilt thou convey to them this intention?”

“That,” Rod said, “is for Yorick to figure out.”

“Nothing to it, m’lord.” Yorick waved the problem away with one outsized ham-hand. “Oldest thing in the book—a nice little whispering-campaign.”

“Whispering-campaigns are that old?” Rod had a dizzying vision of 50,000 years of slander. “But how’ll you get it started?”

Yorick glanced at his fellows, then shrugged as he turned back to Rod. “No help for it—we’ll have to go in ahead of you and do it ourselves.” When Rod stared, appalled, Yorick gri

“I was really thinking we might be able to do something with telepathy,” Rod sighed, “but none of our projectives know the language. Yorick’s right—he and his men have got to get the word started somehow. The question is—can we trust them?”

“Trust a man of the foe?” Catharine cried. “Nay, Lord Warlock, I would hope you would not!”

“But he’s really on our side,” Rod argued, “because he’s fighting the same enemy—the shaman, Mughorck.”

They sat in a small chamber—only forty feet square—of the royal castle in Ru

“He doth say Mughorck is his enemy,” Catharine said scornfully. “Yet, might he not be an agent of just that fell monster?”

Rod spread his hands. “Why? For what purpose could Mughorck send an agent who couldn’t possibly be mistaken for a Gramarye native? Not to mention his handful of cronies who don’t even speak our language.”

“Why, for this very purpose, lad,” Brom O’Berin grunted, “that we might send them in to strengthen our attack, whereupon they could turn their coats, warn their fellows, and have a hedge of spears for our soldiers to confront when they land.”

“Okay,” Rod snorted, disgusted. “Farfetched, but possible, I’ll grant you. Still, it just doesn’t feel right.”

Catharine smiled wickedly. “I had thought ‘twas only ladies who would decide great matters by such feelings.”

“All right, so you’ve got a point now and then,” Rod growled. “But you know what I mean, Your Majesty—there’s some element of this whole situation that just doesn’t fit with the hypothesis that Yorick’s an enemy.”

Catharine opened her mouth to refute him, but Brom spoke first. “1 take thy meaning—and I’ll tell thee the element.”

Catharine turned to him in amazement, and Tuan looked up, suddenly interested again.

“ ‘Tis this,” Brom explained, “that he doth speak our language. Could he have learned it from Mughorck?”

“Possibly, if Mughorck’s an agent of the Eagle’s enemies,” Rod said slowly. “If the Eagle taught Yorick English, there’s no reason why Mughorck couldn’t have, too.”

“Still, I take thy meaning.” Tuan sat up straighter. “We know that Yorick doth hold the Eagle to be some ma

“Or that Mughorck would oust Eagle only to be able to use the beastmen ‘gainst us,” Brom rumbled. “Why could we be of such great moment to Mughorck?”

“Because,” Fess’s voice said behind Rod’s ear, “Gramarye has more functioning telepaths than all the rest of the Terran Sphere together; and the interstellar communication they can provide will in all probability be the single greatest factor in determining who shall rule the Terran peoples.”