Clan and Crown

"You mean that I summoned them against your advice," Ganton said. "Do not bother to deny it. You may even be right. Yet my father lost his throne through failure to keep peace with the great lords of Drantos. It is an error I shall not make."

"Reckon it can't hurt to have 'em here to keep an eye on 'em," Mason said. "And even with 'em here, we're spread pretty thin, keepin' patrols going everywhere. Reminds me of Viet Nam, some."

"I know not that place," Camithon said.

"No sir, I don't reckon you would," Mason said. "Thing is, we won every damn battle in Viet Nam. Troop for troop we had the enemy out-matched every which way. Only one problem. We lost the flipping war."

"Some day you must tell me that story," Ganton said. "Meanwhile, we have the chivalry here, and some will remain even after their time is expired. Not all are more concerned for rights than for the safety of the realm."

"Been more like that we wouldn't have lost 'Nam," Mason said. "And I reckon we need your heavies. Light horse can't beat the Westmen. Knights can, if they'll stay together and fight together."

"And yet we plow sand," Ganton said. "The West-men avoid us. They burn and destroy, and run away when we ride after them. Are they so much better than we, that they lose no men to sickness?"

Mason made an ugly sound, then shrugged. "They're used to living on short rations."

Ganton turned to the maps on the table. He used his dirk to trace westward along a river bed. "I would employ the bheromen and knights in some useful endeavor." He bent over the map. "The Westmen are said to have a great encampment here," he said. "Will they defend it if we attack?"

"We could ask that Arekor chap that lived with 'em," Mason said. "But it probably depends on what we attack with."

Camithon fingered the scar on his cheek and nodded. "Aye, though I do not like to say it. They fear Romans more than us. Romans and Tamaerthan archers."

"Perhaps we could make them fight us," Ganthon said. "On terms we like."

"Wouldn't mind seeing how," Mason said.

"Star weapons," Ganton said. "Used against their horses in camp. They will come forth to fight if their horses die."

"Probably true," Mason said.

"You do not sound joyful," Camithon said.

"I keep remembering Viet Nam," Mason said. "The French were there before us. They kept saying that if they could just make the enemy stand up and fight, they'd have it made. Eventually they did just that. At a place called Dien Bien Phu..

Camithon and Ganton listened as Mason told the story. Later, Ganton summoned a servant to bring wine, and they drank a toast to the brave Legionaries and paras who died in the strongpoints with the strange names of Gabrielle and Isabelle and Beatrice.

"Did Lord Rick then name his daughter for that place?" Ganton asked.

Mason shrugged. "Don't know."

"There is more to this matter of forcing the enemy to fight than one may think," Camithon said. "Majesty, it is my counsel that we withdraw. The Westmen will follow, and when they have come far enough we can bring all our strength against a part of theirs. With the aid of the balloon we can find their weak points."

"The balloon is worth much, truly," Ganton said. "Yet consider. It ca

Camithon threw up his hands. "Shall we then risk all to avoid the wrath of one Tamaerthan-lady?"

"They are my people," Ganton said. "I am as sworn to defend them as they to serve me. Is this not true?"

"Aye-"

"Then let us hear no more of withdrawal."

Camithon gently stroked his scar. "Then it is Your Majesty's wish that we attack the camp of the Westmen?"

"It is."

"I can but obey." Camithon looked to the map. Mason had put small parchment squares on it, each representing a unit of the Royal and Allied forces. Camithon had never seen such a thing before, but it made pla

"Need some reserves to guard the supply route," Mason said. And the ammunition, for that matter. "But we'll want all the weapons."

"Let Westrook become the new supply center," Ganton said. "It is a strong place, and I doubt that Lord Murphy would leave it to his companion's widow if he were not certain of her abilities."

Mason nodded sourly. Her abilities my eye, he thought. I had a hell of a job gettin' Murphy out of there, and even then he wanted to leave the flippin'

106. Horse tradin', with me, over what weapons to leave in that castle, just like it was his home. Hell, I guess it is. Murph's found a home, and I doubt we'll see much of him if he lives to see the end of the Westmen.

"If Westrook is to be the supply center," Ganton continued, "then we must advance through here." He pointed on the map. "We will not want the Westmen to know what we are doing, yet we will wish to be certain that our wagons are not delayed at the river crossing." He looked thoughtful, then nodded. "The Romans are good engineers. Let the cohortes equitates carry timbers and all other things needful for quick construction of bridges here, and here. Our forces can come by many routes. The Westmen will not divine our,intent, and we need not be so concerned for supply."

"An excellent thought," Camithon said. He looked at the young king with new respect.

"And I think we will not raise the balloon until after the attack on the camp," Ganton continued.

"Sure help the artillery to have it up," Mason said. "For target spotting-"

"Yes," Ganton agreed. "And we shall do so. But think, it is too valuable to use as a lure, and when it is raised it will draw all the Westmen toward our main strength. Would it not be better to let them seek us as the star weapons fall among them?"

Camithon frowned. "If the balloon is needed, we can guard it with a small band-"

"No," Ganton said. "Think, my lord. A small band will fall prey to roving Westmen, and there are sure to be such. If we leave enough men to guard it, we should leave them all-else we divide our strength. That is what the French did at this place, Dien Bien' Phu, and we have learned the cost to them."

Christ on a crutch, Mason thought. Maybe the kid understands this stuff better'n me. Hell, I'm no officer. I'm an NCO who got lucky.

Unconsciously Mason straightened as he turned to speak to the Wanax of Drantos.

29

The office was a penthouse on top of a two-story. building, a veritable tower here. It was richly furnished, with thick carpets, elaborately carved furniture, and brilliant tapestries. Leaded glass windows looked out on green Tamaerthan hills to her left and a quiet quadrangle on her right. Gwen Tremaine had once seen National Geographic photographs of a European university Rector's office, and she'd had her staff make as near a duplicate as they could.

The high-backed chair was large enough to swallow her completely, and since it faced the desk rather than a window, when she curled up in it she was utterly invisible from the outside. She tucked her feet up closer- And if you regress any further, you'll be sucking your thumb, you twit! she told herself; but she didn't move from the chair.

Regression feels fine. Safe, even.

Hah. You can't run away from yourself, no matter how far you go.

Thanks a lot. But it isn't myself I'm ru

At least I can't see, the sky. She reached forward to the desk and lifted the note from Larry Warner. Her hand hardly shook she as she read it.