The Protectors war

Havel shrugged and gri

"They're working on the foundations now, but you can see the outlines. It's concrete again; no more of those telephone-pole motte-and-bailey specials that burned so nice. Ferroconcrete. Accent on the ferro. We got close enough to see that they're stacking I-beam as well as rebar; they must have a couple of hundred workers on twenty-four-hour shifts. Josh"-that was Josh Sanders, an ex-lumberjack and ex-Seabee and their expert on field fortifications-"got detailed sketches and extrapolated what the finished product will look like, based on the way they're digging and standard Protectorate practice. Says he'll debrief tomorrow, he's working up his notes."

Ken Larsson nodded and held up a sheaf of papers covered with pencil drawings. "I think Arminger's working from historical models."

"Hand 'em over, hubbie dear," Pamela said. She flicked through the pages. "Oh, yeah. Kerak des Chevaliers, I'd say, maybe Shobak." At their blank looks she sighed and went on: "Late Crusader types, from the Middle East. Add in a bit from Harlech and Edward the First's other Welsh castles, and modern touches like barbed wire. As good as you're going to get for pre-gunpowder fortifications. Or post -gunpowder, in our case."

"Nice to have an expert," Havel said, smiling crookedly.

"Hey, bossman, remember I was a veterinarian."

"At a zoo," Ken Larsson put in. "And still are, in a ma

Pamela thumped him on the shoulder and went on: "The historical stuff was my hobby, like prancing around with swords. The Protector's the guy who was a real gen-u-wine history professor."

"The Demon Professor: from hell," her husband said. "We would get one who specialized in medieval history, too. It gives him entirely too many clever things in his bag of tricks."

"Where's he getting all the materials!" Eric asked, giving his father and stepmother a quelling look. "The concrete alone-"

His sister spoke up; she handled the intel files. "There were at least two big bulk freighters in Portland loaded with cement, according to what we've got from travelers and debriefing refugees," she said. "And another in the Columbia, and God knows what in Seattle , which he's been scavenging lately-incidentally, he controls everything from the Columbia to Tacoma now, too, which means quite a few cement factories with their stockpiles of finished product-like the one down here where we get ours. Not hard to haul the building materials on the railways, now that he's got them cleared of dead locomotives. There's a Southern Pacific branch line in through McMi

Eric rubbed at his beard. "Now that you mention it, we saw a couple of big trains-horse-drawn, and oxen. Didn't get close enough to see the loads under the tarpaulins, that could have been anything. I just thought it would be grain and such. And little handcarts on the rails too-you know, the ones with a couple of guys pumping at levers, like you used to see in old movies. Zipping along real fast, too, faster than a horse-faster than anything I've seen since the Change."

"Clever," his father said, and tapped his hook absently on the sketches. "And Portland 's a big asset. You know, back before the Change, the United States produced about a hundred million tons of steel a year, and imported more. And lots of it went into buildings, or other uses where it'll last a long time; Portland was a fast-growing town, plenty of skyscrapers-millions and millions of tons, just in those alone. Considering that we've mostly gone back to using a few pounds of metal per head every year rather than thousands, it'll last a long time. We're so fixated on the Change that all we associate with cities is death and chaos. But if you can get at it, today a big city's a mine. Steel mine, glass mine, copper mine, asphalt mine-you name it, high-quality metals and alloys already smelted, plus gears and shaped stuff. And that gravity-flow water system in Portland gives Arminger a lot of hydraulic power; he's rigged up machine tools to run off it. It gives him manufacturing capacity."

"So Arminger isn't short of materials," Eric said. "He's still doing a lot of this building. It must cost something fierce in terms of other things he can't do."

Well, my brother-in-law has absorbed basic logistics, Havel thought.

"Notice what he and his barons've been buying, during this latest so-called truce?" he said aloud. "Food, mostly. That lets him pull workers out of the fields and build up a reserve." He called up a mental map. "With McMi

Pamela nodded. "When a country's fully castellated"- she paused-"I mean, when it's got lots of castles, war turns into a series of sieges; even without camp fever, that'd be no fun at all. Unfortunately, we don't have anything comparable, apart from Larsdalen and Dun Juniper and a few other spots. And that city wall the university put up at Corvallis. Our A-lister steadings and most of the Mackenzie duns, they're a lot smaller, about like his second string. And we know he's got a good siege train now."

"There's Mt. Angel," Ke

"Yeah, although that's geography as much as fortification," Havel said. "The abbey's on a nice, steep, three-hundred-foot-high hill to begin with, besides what they've put in in the way of walls."

Ken Larsson looked at his eldest daughter. "What news out of Portland?"

"Nothing unusual that my people can detect. There's a rumor he's going to a

Eric snorted. "And I can see that bunch obeying a nine-year-old girl," he said.

"I can see anyone obeying Sandra Arminger as Regent, if our dear Lord Protector kicked off early," Signe said.

"She's got a following there, particularly among the old Society for Creative Anachronism types who think the gangers need to be scraped off their shoes, and she scares a lot more. Scares me sometimes! Besides, I doubt he plans on dying anytime soon, which is a pity, and there's a matter of Mathilda's marriage when she's of age-that is going to be one highly courted debutante."

"Given up on having a son, has he?" Havel said meditatively.

"Pretty well. It isn't like he hasn't tried-he's the 'If it moves, screw it, and if it doesn't move, shake it' type but none of them's ever caught. Maybe he had the clap sometime."

"Hmmm," her father said. "Is it certain young Mathilda-he must have named her after Mathilda of Flanders, what a thing to do to a kid-actually is his?"

"Certainly from her looks," Signe said. "I've seen portrait pictures taken at her birthday last October and it's unmistakable. Pity, we might be able to do something with it if it weren't."

Havel shrugged. "Hopefully he won't have a successor anyway. Is he mobilizing?"

"Nope, not beyond the usual," Signe said. "Mostly he's been spending a lot of time with those Australians-Tas-manians, actually-who showed up in Portland before Gunpowder Day. I haven't been able to get any of my people close to them, though. Odd: it'd be nice to hear what's going on in the rest of the world, but why is he putting so much effort into them, with a big war brewing?"