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But remember that he has great power, Odikweos noted mentally. There were records of everything, now. The chief scribe's office could torment a man to death and destroy his House with writs and forms. Paper is as great a power in the land as bronze or steel, today. Greater than a bloodline descended from the Gods.
"Helmut will keep you informed of any internal problems," Walker went on.
Odikweos bowed his head slightly. The pug-faced blond man inclined his; his countenance looked as if it had been carved from lard. And do not underestimate this one, either, the Greek told himself. Mittler didn't fight with his own hands, but he'd sent more Achaean nobles to the shades than a myriad of warriors; and he killed men as a housewife might rabbits, with a dispassionate briskness that ignored their squeals and kicks. In the old days a noble or vassal-ruler could give the High King a healthy piece of his mind when he wished, to his face. Now a man had to watch what he said by his own hearthside, or in the very marriage bed.
Walker's one green eye caught Mittler's. "And don't get overenthusiastic, Helmut," he went on. "I know that deep down you think corpses are the only politically reliable element in the kingdom, but please remember that dead men are useless except to the quartermasters, and mutton is much cheaper."
That brought a chuckle from Walker's closest followers, the ones who'd come with him to Tiryns so many years ago. Alice Hong's clear soprano laughter rang out, and she licked her lips.
"Oh, mutton is so greasy," she said. "Politically suspect pork now, done with noodles, or sweet and sour… Ragout of Long Pig a la Ha
Odikweos looked at her and swallowed bile. She was not making a jest, however rough; there was no depravity beyond the Lady of Pain. About her, I have no doubts. If ever it is in my power to slay that one, I shall. By the Kindly Ones, I shall.
A groom brought Walker's horse; it was a tall one, three-quarter breed to the stallion he'd brought with him near a decade ago. Bastard had been the name of the sire.
The flat gray stones of Mittler's eyes were on Alice Hong as well. Walker noticed it. "My, what a happy little family," he said, swinging into the saddle. "Hasta la vista, and if anyone kills a rival without permission, I'll crucify them." His hand slapped his mount's neck. "Come on, Sonofabitch. There should be a big horse present at the fall of Troy, for tradition's sake."
Brigadier Ke
Part of Kat's damned marriage contract.
He wouldn't have thought her the type to do the romantic-plunge-into-the-unknown thing, but then, she was his sister. She'd been an a
"Know that the King is not pleased. Lord Ke
Hollard inclined his head in acknowledgment. Kashtiliash was making a concession by holding the audience in this lesser chamber, without the whole court looking on.
"Lord King, if I were you, I wouldn't be pleased either," he said frankly.
There were a few Babylonians present: guards, two scribes taking notes-one on paper in the Islander-introduced Roman alphabet, the other in cuneiform on waxed boards-and a couple of courtiers. They looked a little shocked at the bluntness. Kashtiliash nodded slightly; he didn't particularly mind, as long as the allies from Nantucket were properly respectful.
In fact, I think he finds it refreshing, Hollard thought.
"Explain this matter to me, then," the King said somberly.
"Lord King, Princess Raupasha was carried away by the heat of victory and misplaced gratitude," he said, feeling a trickle of sweat ru
Raupasha rose to her knees and threw herself down again; Ke
"I most humbly throw myself on the mercy of the shar kirbat 'arbaim, King of the Four Quarters of the Earth, descendant of the Kings Who Were Before the King, Great King, Magnificent King, the King of Kar-Duniash, King of Assyria, King of Elam, King of Mita
The Modest, the Humble, Hollard added to himself.
Raupasha went on: "With clasped hands, I beg that the King allow his slave to serve him as she has before."
Kashtiliash looked as if he'd bitten into something sour for a moment. Smart girl, Hollard thought, admiration taking the sting out of his irritation. She'd just reminded Kashtiliash that while the Nantucketers had helped him conquer Assyria-he'd been Prince Kashtiliash last year, in command of the Babylonian armies for his father Shagarakti-Shuriash-it had been
Raupasha's own hand that cut the throat of Tukulti-Ninurta. Who, in the original history we showed him, defeated Kashtiliash and brought him a prisoner to Asshur.
Plus she'd personally saved his father's life during an assassination attempt last spring. Some monarchs would just be angered by a reminder like that, but Kash…
The hard amber-brown eyes met Hollard's blue. "And if I decide that the Rivers country should not be a vassal-kingdom under Raupasha daughter of Shuttarna, but instead a province under a sakkanakkum, a royal governor appointed by myself?" he said.
Hollard nodded. "The land is the King's, to dispose as he sees fit," he said steadily. "The terms of our treaty of alliance are clear. The Republic of Nantucket seeks no territory in these lands, but only to make war on William Walker, the rebel and usurper who has seized the throne of Achaea."
Kashtiliash continued relentlessly. "And if the Hurri-folk of the north rise against me, on hearing this news?"
Raupasha's fingers clutched at the carpet, but she kept a shivering stillness. Hollard answered crisply: "Then, as our treaty states, we will fight at your side against all rebels until Walker is cast down."
The Babylonian leaned back in his throne; chairs with backs were a rare luxury here, and this was carved with figures of gods and protective genu in ivory, its arms supported by gilded lion-centaurs, its feet the paws of lions with claws of gold.
"And if I demand this woman's head?" he said softly, his thick-wristed swordsman's hands gripping the carved ivory.