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The Arnsteins had been given a royal villa outside the walls of Hattusas; the Islander military had set up around it, sinking wells and installing rudimentary sanitation and getting doctors and their equipment ready. That had been the first priority, even before starting to shuttle in troops and weapons; then they could move westward toward Troy and the Aegean Sea.
Now the campfires and lanterns twinkled about the building in orderly rows, and a long rectangle off to the west marked the Emancipator's landing ground. The chill of autumn fought with the warmth from wood burning in two bronze baskets, and there were fewer bugs splatting themselves there, or against the kerosene lantern on the table beside them. A kettle of sassafras tea kept warm near one brazier; mugs and a platter of cookies stood beside the chessboard.
Doreen fought to keep her attention on the chessmen; there was something reassuring about the feel of the pre-Event plastic, like an old teddy bear. It was a reminder of a world where your husband wasn't threatened by sadistic surgeon-torturers, or mad ex-Coast-Guard warlords, or barbarians with bronze axes…
No, just by cancer, muggers, drive-by shootings, and LA drivers, she thought. Plus if it hadn't been for the Event, you'd never have met Ian, not really-never even have considered marrying him, at least. No David then, or Miriam. I'm going to call her Miriam, by God, and Ion's going to be there to help with the diapers!
"You shouldn't done that," she said to her son. "Look-I'm in a position where you're going to lose this castle, to save your King. In fact…"
The boy came over and scowled, knotting his brow in thought. Doreen felt her heart turn over; he looked so much like his father when he did that. He was tall for his age, with hands and feet that promised something like his father's inches, but his face and build were more like hers. The Middle Eastern sun had burned him brown over the summer and brought out a few russet highlights in his dark curly hair. The scowl turned into a shrug as he reached out and tipped over his King.
He's worried, too, she thought, giving him a quick hug before he turned back to the telescope. Or he'd fight to the death, the way he usually does. And he'd be his usual one-question-after-another self, instead of so quiet.
"Now you will beat me like, how you say, the big bass drum," Raupasha said.
When Doreen was silent for a long moment the Mita
Doreen found herself blinking back tears, and gave the younger woman's hand a moment's squeeze. "Thanks, kiddo," she said.
"I hope it's a daughter, though," she went on. "One of each."
Raupasha looked a little baffled; many sons was a common goodwill wish in this part of the world. Doreen went on, smiling a little: "Now Ken, he'd be a little disappointed if you'd turned out to be a boy, for instance."
Raupasha's face lit up as if a lamp were burning behind it. "Do you think so? Really?" she said, flushing. "Oh…"
Doreen chuckled. "But there are difficulties. Not least, there's Ke
Raupasha looked puzzled. "Should a man not feel that he should protect his woman?"
"Well… that depends. I think part of your problem is that he's got this idea you're like a little sister."
Raupasha snorted. "He will have to learn I am not a little girl!" A sigh. "But there are more difficulties than that." She paused and changed the subject. "Doreen, what is a Jew?"
Doreen's eyebrows arched. "Well, it's sort of- ' hmmm. Can't say "religion," because Ian and I aren't believers, much. And religion's a nearly meaningless word here, where you can mix'n match your deities. "-sort of like a tribe."
"But you are all Eagle People, all Nantukhtar, aren't you?"
"Well… yes. It's a little more complicated than that… why do you ask?"
"Because I heard someone say that the Jews are clever, and I wondered what they meant." She chuckled. "If you are a Jew, then playing this game with you makes me think it must be so."
Doreen laughed with a sigh in it, and looked down at the chessboard. "Yes, I think you could say 'clever.' Part of it's that we've usually been few compared to our neighbors and not much liked, so we had to outsmart those who had more… weight of fist than we did. And part of it's that our God made us some fiendishly complicated laws, and we spent a lot of our time studying and arguing about them. Or we made the laws fiendishly complicated so we could spend our time arguing and studying them. That got to be a habit-so we ended up arguing with everybody and studying everything; like me with the stars, or Ian with ancient times."
Raupasha nodded. "It's good to be clever," she said. "It helps when you're not strong, and when you are it makes your strength more-
"It's the ship!" David squealed. "Dad, it's Dad!"
Doreen dashed over and pushed the boy aside, peering through. The Emancipator, right enough. Why haven't they radioed? she thought furiously. Was that a good sign, or a bad? What's been happening in Troy?
"They're over the wall in the lower town," Major Chong said.
"That mean what I think it means?" Ian Arnstein asked.
The air was thick with smoke drifting up from the lower city, smoke that stank of things not meant to burn. Through the narrow window he could see the flames, under an overcast sky darker than the inside of a whale's gut.
And I'm Jonah, in the belly of the beast, he thought, as a red spark arched out from the darkness into the maze of flat-topped buildings. The spark snapped with a vicious quickness, flying dirt and timbers showering skyward, then the shadows fell again. Slightly further away a line of orange fire traced across the night. Flamethrower, he thought. Simple to use; one man on the hose, two working the pumps… and the attackers would be under the stream of burning oil as they fought their way through the narrow twisting streets.
Chong coughed and grimaced; a bandage hid most of the left side of his face, crusted dark. "It means that they're going to be here and damned soon. We cut it close, Councilor."
"I'm not altogether happy about leaving." King Alaksandrus was down there, defending the city. And I talked him into fighting to the last, he thought with a sharp stab of guilt. A wave of sound came with the flicker of the fires, a distant screaming babble of voices, punctuated with explosions and a growing crackle of gunfire.
"Sir, you've got your orders and I've got mine, and the war isn't over yet. There are Marine units only three days' march away."
"That isn't going to do the Trojans much good," Arnstein said, unfolding himself from the chair.
"Neither is getting yourself killed, sir," the Marine said. "You know what the commodore says."
"Yeah, the Light Brigade got what they deserved, like Custer." Ian sighed. "All right." It'll be good to see David again, and Doreen. Even though she's going to ream me out like a Roto-Rooter for getting caught here in the first place.
"Wait a minute," he said. "I thought it was too risky for the airship to set down here?"
"They're not," Chong said. "We've got a big net set up on the highest roof, fastened to a hook on a pole. They're going to snatch us off with a slow approach."
"Oh, joy."
The offices of the Islander mission were as bright as the kerosene lanterns could make them. As he watched the radio operator gave a last tap at the key, flipped open the casing of the radio and began methodically smashing the interior with the butt of her rifle. He winced again, at the waste; at least this was one of the post-Event models, not the irreplaceable pre-Event printed circuits. Others went by with armfuls of documents, throwing them onto the fire in the courtyard outside.