Clan and Crown

The headquarters staff had set out a table overflowing with sausage and bread and jerked meat, and nearby a kettle of hot soup was just coming to the boil. There were also flagons of wine, well-watered but of good flavor. The Romans hadn't asked if he wanted his wine watered; they had simply assumed that no commander on a battlefield would drink anything else. It was something to remember…

And not far away was the luxury of all luxuries: an optio supervised as Titus Frugi's servants erected a tent that would contain a canvas bath! Soon there would be hot water Perhaps, he thought, perhaps I will be able to clean my head without shaving it. He gri

That wedding would not be long coming. Then, married to Caesar's granddaughter, and proclaimed a leader of Romans He could still feel the thrill of that moment. Imperator! The Romans had hailed him, soldiers and officers alike, and he could now appear before a Roman army wearing the corona aurea. And the army of Drantos was now loyal, the strength of the throne- With Octavia as his wife-what might not be accomplished?

PART SEVEN

34

The moving light circled.

"That is it?" Tylara raised one hand and pointed. With the other she tightly held Rick's arm.

Rick nodded as he watched the ship hover above the bare hilltop. It was all too easy to remember the first time he'd seen one of the alien craft. That had been ten light years away, in Africa, and he hadn't believed in flying saucers.

This time, I know what it is, he thought. Does that make it easier? There are no Cubans coming to kill me. But I don't know who-or what-will be aboard, no more than I did then.

The instructions had been clear. Bring a work crew, all the surinomaz harvested so far, and no heavy weapons. The voice on the transceiver had been cold and mechanical, and had not encouraged conversation.

The moving lights came down with a rush. From the foot of the hill came a wail of terror and shouts that might have been prayers, then Elliot's curses. The ship settled to the hilltop. There was a long silence, broken only by a whine from somewhere within the craft.

"Can they see us without light?" Tylara asked in a whisper.

"Yes. And hear us as well."

She tightened her grip on his arm. "Will we see them?"

She's bearing up better than I did, Rick thought. "I don't know," Rick answered. "Nor do I know if this group will be human or Shalnuksi."

He hadn't wanted to bring her, but she'd been persuasive. If the purpose was to convince the Shalnuksis that Armagh was the principal seat of Rick's holdings, they would expect his wife to be there; and if at the castle, then why not to meet the ship when it landed? "Would they think me afraid?" she asked. "Or that you would marry one who feared them?"

He'd had-no answer to that. Perhaps it would help if she came. Perhaps not. He had no way of knowing how much they could find out from orbit. Certainly Armagh appeared to be an important place. At the moment the castle was crammed from rafters to cellars with household goods, supplies, animals, and people. There were courtiers and cooks, administrators and acolytes, scribes and scullerymaids, judges, journeymen, apprentices, and masters of nearly every trade; even two dozen of the Children of Vothan in training for domestic service, and several of their teachers.

There was nothing better than oil lamps and bonfires for light, but even so, Armagh ought to be visible from orbit. Every room and courtyard blazed as they celebrated the news of the great victory. The Westmen were driven from the land, and even now the Alliance army was escorting them northwards, out of Drantos, into the wild lands to the northwest, lands nominally part of Drantos but long ago claimed by Margilos on the one hand and the Five Kingdoms on the other. Let the High Rexja have both the disputed lands and the Westmen. Perhaps it would keep him too busy to a

One problem down, another to go. The flying saucer didn't look like doing anything. Gingerly Rick detached Tylara's hand from his arm and walked toward the craft. "Hi!" he called. "Hello, the ship."

It could have been the ship that brought him to Tran. Certainly it was more like that than like the sleek craft that had rescued the mercenaries from their African hilltop. Even in the dim light of the Demon Star he could see that the hull showed stains, patches, and dents. There were bulges and flutings in random places on its surface. Les had once told them the ship that brought them to Tran was chartered; perhaps this one was also, or it might have been the same ship.

The whine muted and died, and the ship settled more heavily on its large circular landing feet. There were small crackling noises as it crushed the fragrant Tran shrubbery. A small square opened near the saucer's top, and the hillside was bathed in yellow light. Rick moved closer, carefully keeping his hands away from the.45 in its shoulder holster.

A rectangular hatchway opened into a gangway. The inside of the ship was bright with the yellow light the Shalnuksis seemed to favor. Rick could see crates and packages, a lot of them, many painted olive drab.

"Good evening, Captain Galloway." The voice boomed out unexpectedly, startling Rick. It was the same cold, impersonal voice he'd heard on the transceiver. It sounded like a recording, or perhaps like something synthesized on a computer. Its tones told him nothing about the person-or being-who spoke.

"Good evening," he said. He was surprised at how dry his mouth had gotten.

"You see we have brought your-supplies. Have you brought the-work crew-as instructed?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Have them bring the surinomaz." The hatchway Rick was watching closed, and another, smaller doorway, leading into a much smaller compartment, opened about 45 degrees around the base of the ship. "Captain, you will oblige us by remaining where you are, while others bring the surinomaz."

He felt rather than heard Tylara come up behind him. Then she took his arm. "We will stand here together," she said softly.

"A-noble sentiment," the impersonal voice said. "Very well. Instruct your crew to hurry. They are to carry no metal into the ship. Is that understood?"

"Right." He turned to face down the hill. "Elliot, get the stuff loaded in that open compartment. Make sure the troops leave all their metal behind. Daggers, armor, everything. Make it sharp."

"Sir! All right, you sons, move it." There was a cacophony of sounds from lower down the hill, then Elliot's voice rose above the chatter. "Move it now, or by Vothan you'll be in the madweed fields before the True Sun is high! Move!"

The clerks and apprentices scurried up the hill. They were led by Apelles, who looked like a man not entirely successful at trying to be brave. None of them had been armed, so it didn't take them long to shed all of their metal. Then they carried the semi-refined madweed into the small cargo compartment.

"It is not a large amount," Rick shouted. "The rogue star isn't close enough yet. Next year is supposed to be a better crop."

"We know," the ship answered.

Rick and Tylara watched as the cargo was loaded. Finally Apelles came out and signalled they were done.

"Now stand clear," the voice called. The compartment door closed. The whining noise rose in pitch.

"I had thought they had goods for us," Tylara said.

"Will it rise now?"

"I don't know," Rick said. He turned away from the ship.

"Remain there, Captain. If you please." This time the voice sounded different.