Clan and Crown

"Larry, that's sweet of you."

He laughed. "Now that's just what a tough merc turned professor wants to be told," he said. "Sweet, for God's sake!"

She'd sent Larry away, and was alone on her balcony as the party rode in: a dozen Romans, Rick and Tylara, and a third who sat his horse like a sack of potatoes.

He can't do everything.

He can blow your University right off the map.

They dismounted and entered the building. She went back into her office and stood near the desk. What can I say? What do I want to say? Why- Too late for thought. There were sounds outside, then her door opened.

He came in alone. Over his arm he was carrying- "Oh, no!"

She'd imagined this meeting for two years. She'd thought of being haughty. Imperious. Sexy and seductive, at least as much so as she could be. Tearful. Scornful. Cool, the University Rector.

She'd never imagined that she'd collapse in laughter. She threw back her head and roared, and had to lean against the desk for support.

He held his smile until she was finished. "Well, you did ask if I would buy you a grass skirt," he said. "So I got you the best I could find." Then his control gave way, and he began to laugh, and she joined him, and they kept each other howling. Whenever one would slow down, the other would point to the skirt and they began again, and…

And then he was close to her. She wasn't sure what happened next. She didn't think she'd moved -toward him, but there she was, and his arms went round her, and their lips met.

"Les-"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. He held her in an iron grip, but-there were tears in his eyes, and suddenly everything was the way she'd dreamed it might be, back when she had good dreams.

The grass skirt fell to the floor.

Rick's apartment was on the top floor of the University guest house, and the window looked out across the quadrangle to the town beyond.

In the traditional ma

The University was growing, but the sight could not cheer Rick. The ax would fall, and all too soon.

Meanwhile, he had a kingdom to administer. He hefted a stack of reports the Roman clerks had brought in. They had arrived by the Express Post that morning.

The most interesting was Art Mason's report.

"The Westmen are moving north as agreed. It won't be long before they're out of our territory altogether, and the only question will be whether they take on Margilos or the Five Kingdoms."

Tylara read over Rick's shoulder. She laughed haughtily. "If the Westmen attack Margilos, there will be fewer Westmen to reach the Five Kingdoms. They are as mad as the Westmen, those warriors of Margilos. And I think the Westmen know this."

"Good enough," Rick said. "So they'll go past Margilos and on into the Five. That ought to keep the High Rexja busy for long enough to get this Roman alliance firmed up. Once Ganton marries Octavia-"

"Um-hummm," Tylara said. "Did you arrange for the Romans to hail our Wanax as Imperator?"

"No, ma'am, he got that one on his own."

"You surprise me. True, I had not thought to arrange it, but when I heard, I believed you had. Perhaps Yatar does watch over us more thoroughly than we know."

Rick turned back to Mason's letter and read aloud. "Wanax Ganton proposes Ben Murphy as bheroman at Westrook. The late Bheroman Harkon left a six-year-old kid, but Honeypie has just about adopted the kid, and she and Murph will be married as soon as he gets your consent, which I'd advise you to give. I think Murph can do a good job of holding the plains here. He likes it."

Murphy's first home, Rick thought. A long way from Belfast…

"A lot of the smallholders were killed by West-men," the letter continued. "Some of the landless Tamaerthan troops like the weather up here, and they've petitioned to take over the ownerless farms. Murphy wants to let them do it, and it looks like a good deal to me, but of course it's part of Lady Tylara's county.

– If she approves, we can get started fast." Rick looked up at Tylara. "Well?"

"I consent," she said. "Should I not?"

"No. It's a good plan. Here's to Bheroman Murphy." He read the rest of Mason's report. "There is no longer a threat from the Westmen. Wanax Ganton has decided that his bheromen are able to escort them with Roman help, so we are returning to Dravan. The Tamaerthans who aren't staying up here want to get home, so Caradoc has taken them on ahead. You can use the semaphore to Dravan if you have other orders for them."

"They will not be long in Dravan," Tylara said. "Cardoc will not wait for orders. He will bring the

Tamaerthan troops home-here! He will come here unless he is told not to come. And what reason could we give?"

"I don't know." Rick opened another pouch and took out still more reports. "Here's one for you," he said absently.

Tylara didn't answer. Rick looked up from his work. She was standing at the window. "He will learn soon enough," she said. She stared gloomily down at the campus and town. "He will learn, and this will all be destroyed."

"Perhaps not," Rick said. "Look, Les agreed to stay in the guest house. If Caradoc doesn't actually go looking for witnesses-"

"My husband, my love, you are not such a fool," Tylara said. "Caradoc's clansmen will learn. How could they not? Last night they visited the baths together. They were alone inside for time enough to grow three pair of antlers on Caradoc's forehead. You have sealed the town gates, and closed the semaphore, but it will do no good. He will learn."

"But what can I do?" Rick demanded.

"I do not know." Tylara sighed. "We need a miracle. Perhaps Yatar will send one." She stood a few moments longer at the window. Her hands were balled into fists. She drummed them against the window ledge. Then she came back to the desk, suddenly calm again. "Meanwhile, I must send a message to Dravan, and the semaphore office will not accept it without your approval." There was a brittle edge to her voice.

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean the restrictions to apply to you," Rick said.

She held her hard look for a moment, then smiled. "I know, my love. You have much to concern you. Still, I must see to our house, and quickly, so may I trouble you to put that in writing?"

"Sure." He sat at the desk and scribbled out an authorization. "I was hoping to keep anyone from telling Caradoc," he said. "Stupid, of course. But it does put off the evil day. And maybe the horse will learn to sing."

"Horse?"

"Old story," Rick said. "Very old. A thief was about to be executed. They did that in a particularly painful way in old Persia. Before they took him-away, he told the Wanax that he could teach the Wanax's favorite horse to sing hymns, if the Wanax would give him a year.

"The Wanax took him up on it, and pretty soon, there was the thief down in the stables every day, grooming the horse and singing to it. His buddies told him he was crazy.

"That may be,' the thief said. 'But I have a year, and who knows what will happen in that time? The king might die. The horse might die. I might die. And who knows, maybe the horse will learn to sing…"

Tylara giggled, then nodded more soberly. "Yes. Time is always valuable," she said. "But I fear that time alone will not save us."

"So do I," Rick said. "But I don't know what else to do."

"You will do what you must," Tylara said. "That I have known all my life, and learned again from you. We do as we must."

The four sat at Gwen's conference table: Rick and Tylara, Gwen and Les.