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"How did you know that Walker didn't just come from a land with more arts than yours?"
Odikweos nodded. "That was my first thought, and it is what most here believe. But the King and his Wolf People lords, they knew too much of what was here. The mines of iron not a day's travel from this city; I saw the maps they had-wonders themselves-made of these same lands. They even seemed to know somewhat of the men of Mycenae and the other Achaean kingdoms.
"So," he went on, turning his hand palm-up, moving his fingers as if counting off points and then clenching it into a fist. "Either these men were Gods in disguise, or demigods, or seers-or they must know these things because they were from years yet unborn."
He poured wine, watered it, and spilled a few drops in libation. "And I swiftly saw that these were men as other men- weak and stupid men, many of them. Some of them were wicked men-and a wicked woman-in ways cursed by the Gods. Even Walkheear… yes, a great fighting-man,- and of a cu
"Perhaps not as clever as you think," Arnstein said. At Odikweos’s raised brows: "Men gather more than arts." He turned his beard toward the copper smoke-hood for a moment. "They also gather the memory of tricks and stratagems of war and kingcraft. Especially in lands where everything is preserved in writing."
"Ahh," Odikweos said, nodding. "That puts in words a thought long stirring in my mind."
"So… what do you wish to know?" Arnstein asked.
"This," the Achaean said, his callused hand sculpting a graceful gesture through the air. "What ma
"I also know," he went on, "that we Achaeans have mounted the lion and however much danger there is in riding, we ca
His hazel eyes bored into Arnstein's. "For if you are all such as Walker, then we must cherish Walker as our rightful lord, for at least he rules from the Achaean lands, and his followers of the Wolf Folk are too few to govern without many of our men at their sides in positions of honor. But if not…"
Ian felt his spine prickle. "You speak boldly," he said.
"I speak as I must." A grim smile. "For one thing, your mouth can be stopped. For another, you would not be believed if you accused me-a condemned man seeking safety. For a third, time snaps at my heels like a wolf indeed. In another ten years-especially with victory in this war-the King of Men will be strong beyond assailing. He will rule so many lands that we Achaeans will be but a minor part of his domains, of his followers."
His expression grew altogether harsh. Arnstein felt a trickle of fear, more immediate than the low-grade dread that had been with him constantly since Troy. This was not a man you could anger safely…
"I have spoken. Now you will speak. And you are not my only spring of knowledge in this matter. I will know if you lie; Athana Potnia is my patron Goddess, and she has given me the gift of plumbing the truth in men's words."
All right, Ian, Arnstein thought, licking his lips and ru
War was begi
"You liked him," Swindapa said quietly, as the Islander truce party rode south once more.
"I'll still kill him if I can," Alston said meditatively, looking up.
The ultralight had turned southward to base, after checking that the Tartessians were headed back northwest. The first stars were out, bright light against racing scuds of cloud, clouds white-outlined by the waning moon; the wind had cooled notably.
"That's not what I meant," her partner said, cocking her head to one side slightly. "I'm surprised."
"So am I," Alston said.
One of the good things about riding a horse was that it wouldn't fall over or run into a tree if you lost yourself in thought for a few moments.
"I think he's changed," she said at last. "He's still pretty loathsome to our way of thinking-" which would apply from a Fiernan's point of view as well, although not for exactly the same reasons "… but being a King, I'd say it's changed him. Responsibility can do that."
"To some, maybe," Swindapa said. "I don't think so, for Walker."
Marian's face went hard. "No. Not him."
Ritter's bicycle came rapidly up from behind them. "Ma'am!" she said. "The scouts confirm the enemy delegation are withdrawing as agreed."
For an instant a flicker of regret went through Alston's mind; someone with a telescope-sighted rifle, or a long burst from the Gatling, and the enemy would be headless… No. Victories won that way were poisoned fruit. If nothing else, they didn't convince the other side they were beaten the way a real fight did, and getting the other side to admit defeat was the whole reason you made war in the first place. There was no point in wi
"We'll camp on the site we picked out on the way up here, then, Lieutenant," Alston said.
"Aye, aye, ma'am!"
Swindapa chuckled softly as the young Marine officer pedaled industriously off and spoke even more quietly: "How she jumps to please you," she teased-in Fiernan, which the standard-bearer did not speak, which gave them complete privacy.
At least she's learned some discretion, Marian thought with affectionate exasperation; she understood the Earth Folk language, although she couldn't speak it beyond the pass-the-salt level.
"She'd jump even more eagerly if you took a pheasant feather and tickled her on her-" Swindapa went on.
" 'Dapa!" Alston snorted, as her partner went into imaginative details, with gestures. One of the few drawbacks of having a Fiernan for a partner was her idea of a bawdy joke…
"… then imagine her bursting like a ripe berry on your lips when you threw your arms about her arse and ran your-
" 'Dapa! Stop /r/"
… because in a perfectly good-natured way the Fiernan idea of bawdy tended to be luridly, awesomely explicit, even by late-twentieth-century-American standards. The Earth Folk had plenty of taboos and aversions, but few about that.
"But that would be against regulations," she finished, with a sly grin, rolling her eyes piously skyward, and making a brief steepling of fingers in the Christian ma
That was another thing that could be a
Scholarly types like the Arnsteins said it was because of their diffuse family setup, where paternity was often anyone's guess and kids were raised catch-as-catch-can, like a litter of puppies by mothers, aunts, uncles, and a score of other relatives.
Whatever, Marian thought, laughing unwillingly along with Swindapa's wholehearted mirth.
The spot the embassy had picked for its encampment was on a slight hill, where the chalky subsoil came nearer the surface as the land rose out of the alluvial lowlands to the north. It reminded her of pictures she'd seen of the Serengeti, weirdly combined with California. A scattering of cork-oak trees gave shelter, their thick, gnarled bark with its deep scorch marks showing why it had evolved in the first place; the grass fires in a dry summer here must be something to see.