Clan and Crown

"That may be sufficient," Yanulf said.

"As to Nictoros, I will issue a pardon."

"Who will make up what you remit to Enipses, lord?" Apelles asked.

"We'll have to work that out," Rick said. "Maybe you could see to it?"

"We will do that," Yanulf said.

Sure you will, Rick thought. And that'll fall on some poor schmuck who's irritated his local priest. But what the hell can I do?

I can get Campbell working on that reaper.

When dusk came, Jamiy brought in lamps. Rick sighed. They still hadn't managed good lamps. These burned a mixture of oil and naptha, and gave better light than the older tapers, but the light was still too dim, and gave him a headache. One day, he thought, I'll need spectacles, and I won't have them. And then what? But this has got to be done.

Ganton had summoned the chivalry of Drantos to the high plains. Rick was horrified. He could see no use for that many undisciplined heavy cavalrymen. Useful or not, though, they had to be fed. Wagons, horses, grain, all had to be found and sent in a steady stream, and since the bheromen had contributed their share and more, a lot had to come from the free towns- who weren't anxious to provide it. Writs had to be prepared, spies sent to find new sources of wealth to tax, constables sent to harass the obstinate… He worked for two more hours.

"It is time, lord."

Rick looked up from his paperwork to see Padraic.

"The night meal is prepared. You wished to be called," Padraic said. "The Guards wait outside."

"Thanks. Come in, Padraic. There's wine over there. Pour some for both of us, and sit down." Rick carefully stacked the papers and parchments and leaned back in his chair. Far out to the west he saw moving lights in the semaphore tower, and wondered what message was coming in.

When Padraic brought the wine, he lifted his glass. "Cheers," he said, and laughed when his archer captain looked puzzled.

"An expression from my home world," Rick explained. "Tell me, how have the men taken the news, of Lord Caradoc's promotion?"

"Well, lord. It gives hope to all, that one may rise high if one has talent and is willing."

And loyal. Let's not forget that one. "Yes. Well, here's to Lord Caradoc!" They touched glasses and Rick drained his, then held it out for a refill. "Tell me, Padraic, you were raised in Tamaerthon-what do you know of Bacreugh?"

There was a crash as Padraic dropped the pewter goblet. He bent quickly to pick it up and refill it.

Rick drew his Colt and clicked off the safety. He held the pistol concealed below the table. "Sit down," he said. "I think we'd better talk."

"Aye, lord. How did you find out?"

"I have ways." What the hell have I found out? "Now tell me about it."

"Lord, there is little to tell. My grandmother is sister to the mother of Mac Bratach Bhreu, and thus I am kin to Bacreugh. It was a kinsman who approached me."

"What did he offer?"

"He said that a friend to Bacreugh wished to speak with me, and that he would offer me honor and gold," Padraic said. "I told him that I have honor enough, and it may not be had for gold. Lord, what should I have done? For I ca

"What did he say?"

"Only that. Only that Bacreugh-he said a friend to Bacreugh, but I surmised that the friend would be Bacreugh himself-wished to speak with me, and it would be much to my interest to do so; that he would offer me honor and gold, and I need do little-but what I would be required to do he did not say."

Rick thumbed the Colt's safety on. "But you guessed?"

"No, lord."

"Then why did you drop the goblet?"

"I had heard you can hear thoughts, lord. I had not known it was true until now. For I was at that very moment wishing I knew what Bacreugh wished of me."

"You can do better," Rick said. "You must know they intended for you to kill me. Or to let one of them get past you and do it."

"Nay, lord, I do not know it. I know only that Bacreugh wished to make an offer-and that he is a kinsman, as was the man he sent to approach me."

"What other kinsmen have you within the Mounted Archers?"

"Only Caradoc, lord."

"That's right, Caradoc is your kinsman-he is kin to Bacreugh, then."

"Aye, lord. He is related much as I am."

"Did you tell him about this?"

Padraic laughed. "No, lord. Lord Caradoc is-quick to defend his honor. I was his chosen under-captain. He might have seen an offer to me as an insult to him, a matter for blood. And I ca

There was a furious knocking on the door. "Captain!" someone shouted. Rick recognized Elliot's voice.

"Come in, Sergeant Major."

Elliot was breathless. He held a paper in his hand. "Just decoded this from the semaphore, Captain. They've spotted a satellite over Castle Dravan!"

28

Elliot put the decoded message on Rick's desk. "Just as you told 'em, Cap'n. Right after the True Sun set and while the 'Stealer was low on the horizon, they saw a bright light moving across the sky."

"Direction?"

"Southwest to northeast."

"Has to be a satellite," Rick agreed.

"I checked the shrine," Elliot said. "Nothing on the radio, and there's been somebody there all the time."

"Hmm. They don't want to talk with us."

"Not yet, anyway."

"So the next question is, who is it? Shalnuksis or a human? They're a little early for surinomaz, and I'd think they'd know that. They're making observations they don't care to have us know about. Any ideas on that?"

"None I like."

"Me either," Rick said. He took a blank sheet of paper and began to write. "REWARD THE OBSERVER.

THEN COME AT ONCE. BRING CHILDREN. IMPERATIVE ARMAGH THOUGHT MAJOR AREA OF INTEREST."

He handed it to Elliot. "Get this coded and see that it goes off to Tylara."

Elliot glanced at the paper. "Maybe it'd be best for the kids to stay at Dravan."

"I thought of that, but- If they're here to drop bombs, I'd rather Tylara stayed at Dravan too. In the caves."

"Think she'd do it?"

"No." Rick took the message and crossed through the words "BRING CHILDREN."

Elliot nodded agreement. "Not likely anything'll happen."

"Not this time," Rick said. "Not this time."

The field stank of too many men and too many horses. Even in the headquarters tent which was carefully placed upwind of the main encampment, the smell was there, despite the moaning hot wind that blew down the Westscarp. Lordy, I want to go home, Art Mason thought.

The adjutant brought in a paper and handed it to Mason. Art examined it and whistled. "If we don't do something pretty soon," he said, "we're not going to have any army left."

"Surely you exaggerate," Ganton said.

"Hardly, sire," Camithon said. "One always loses more men to sickness than the enemy. We have been very fortunate-no. I will not say fortunate, for it is not fortune. Thanks to Major Mason, we have had fewer losses than any army in my memory."

"Morning report's pretty bad even so," Mason said. I "Still too many down. Too many flies in camp. The Romans are all right, but I can't make the others dig the latrines deep enough. And this hot wind gets to them. We're losing troops to pure funk. Last night a trooper got up at midnight and ran out and started hacking down a tree, shoutin' that he hated it. Beat it up pretty good, too. Nobody in his company did a damned thing, except one guy yelled out 'Give it a whack for me, I hate it too.' That sounds fu

"Many of the knights will depart also," Camithon said. "Their time of service will expire, unless we find ways to pay them."