by Garon Whited
Lissette sighed and rubbed her temples. It’s a bad sign.
“You could ask if I have already thought of this.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. I have entered into negotiations with the Lord of the Fangs to allow—”
“With who?”
“It’s what he calls himself!” she snapped, tired and exasperated. “He’s the nominal ruler of the islands of the Dragon’s Teeth, but his control is mostly over the Straits. He’s a bandit king, or a pirate king, not a real ruler.”
“He picked a bad name,” I muttered.
“I agree. It was mentioned as part of the negotiations.”
“Oh?”
“He doesn’t want to make either side into a real enemy. Mentioning his self-appointed title put him on the defensive, thinking he’s already offended one of them.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“So, you don’t need me to blow up the strong points in the Strait of the Fang Rocks?”
“I do not.”
“Then I’ll stay out of it. Actually,” I continued, “I’m kind of relieved. I don’t like ocean adventures.”
“What about land adventures?”
“I’m more at home with those, yes.”
“Perhaps you plan something on the outer continent? With a few thousand Knights of Shadow?”
“Uh… well, I hadn’t thought so far ahead. I was more worried about the whole naval evolution and the landing. It strikes me as the most vulnerable time of the campaign.”
“I agree.”
“So, what would you like me to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Um. Nothing?”
“Nothing,” she insisted. “Stay out of it.”
“I think I could—”
“—disrupt the carefully-laid plans of the Queen, her generals, her advisors, her magicians?”
“Ah. Yes. Yes, exactly.”
“Stop looking so glum,” she ordered. “I know you want to help, and you feel some of your greatest strengths lie in this arena. You have not been privy to the plans we have laid nor the preparations we have made. Your ‘help’ would only interfere.”
“There must be something I can do.”
“Aside from stay out of it?”
“Yes, please.”
Lissette sighed and reclined on the couch again. Malena handed her a damp cloth from a nearby basin. Lissette applied it to face and forehead.
“Right now, I don’t have a wartime use for you,” she admitted. “I don’t doubt there will come a time when something… unexpected… untoward… unfortunate occurs.”
“No plan survives contact with the enemy,” I quoted.
“Exactly. Exactly. If that happens—when that happens—I may require the Demon King. We have a plan of campaign and I believe we have a good chance of victory.”
“And you just want me to not screw up your plans?”
“I would not phrase it so, but you have the essence of it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lissette handed the cloth back. Her brow furrowed and her eyebrows drew together.
“Sorry?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, “for not being here to help you.”
“Don’t think of it,” she commanded, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. “You have done much, suffered much—I think I understand some part of the way the demon rode you, from my experience with Thomen. Your sacrifices are different from mine, but I think I appreciate them all the more for knowing… knowing you are still watching over me.”
“I still feel bad about what you’ve had to go through,” I admitted.
“For what I had to go through?” she asked, startled.
“I abandoned you. It wasn’t right, or kind, or… no. It was the best of all the bad ideas, but it was still a bad idea.”
Lissette chuckled and pressed the back of her hand to her lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” she said, mastering herself. “Nothing at all. You will continue to watch over the armies when they set sail?”
“Of course. By the way, did I hear correctly that Liam is going as the ranking representative of the Crown?”
“Yes.”
“Is he up to it?”
“He is his father’s son.”
“So, no.”
“No?”
“There’s no way I would have been up to it at his age. He better take after you in a big way.”
“We will see.”
“I guess we will.”
“That will be all.”
I blinked at her for a moment. I’m not used to being dismissed and it took me a moment to realize I was. Still, I rose, recovered my helmet, bowed slightly to her, and left.
Outside, Liam waited in the hall. I paused to belt Firebrand on properly and he took the opportunity to buttonhole me.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Have you come to take command of the armies?”
I spent a few seconds adjusting belt and baldric as a cover for thinking.
“That’s not why your mother summoned me,” I replied. “On the other hand, if you can’t convince me you’re a wise and capable commander, I’ll have you back in the Palace so fast you won’t even glimpse the ocean going by.”
Liam clouded up.
“How am I supposed to be a wise and capable commander? How? I’ve never gone to war. It’s not fair!”
“Actually, it’s pretty simple,” I told him, which cut off the beginnings of a tantrum. He checked himself.
“It is?” he asked, perplexed.
“It is. Walk with me, son, and I’ll pour a bucket of wisdom on you.”
He hesitated, then fell into step beside me.
“The real trick to being a good commander—or king, or queen, or anybody in charge—is to listen a lot.”
“Listen?”
“Listen. The Queen has a council for a reason. You’re going to have generals for the same reason. They all have ideas, experience, knowledge—wisdom. You can’t understand everything, be up to date on every detail, know every fact you need to. You have to let other people keep track of their specialized areas and handle their details. Then you have to listen to what they say, listen to their recommendations, listen to their reasons and reasoning, before you decide what to do.
“If you’re lucky, you’ll have one guy who knows his stuff—someone who knows all the things you do not. If he’s the expert of experts, you turn him loose and simply nod whenever he asks for your permission to do something. Seldar leaps to mind. If you’re not lucky, you’ll have to choose between two or more equally sound-seeming courses of action.”
“So, if I’m lucky, I’m a figurehead.”
“Sure, if you want to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can think of yourself as a figurehead and sulk all you want. It’ll keep an impulsive, oversensitive boy from ruining all the best-laid plans of the army. Or you can pay attention to everything, learn quickly, ask for advice, and wind up understanding how to run a war. Of course,” I added, “the second way has one key problem.”
“I don’t think I like where this is going.”
“Probably not.”
“All right, what’s the key problem?”
“You have to admit to yourself you are not the best man for the job.”
“But I am the Prince of—”
“Do you want to even set foot on a boat?” I interrupted.
“What?”
“Do you want to leave this palace and set foot on a boat? Or do you want to spend the whole war in the royal chambers, waiting for news from the fighting front? Because if you want to be forbidden from the war, all you have to do is finish that sentence. Now, either choose to be a figurehead, or admit you both know nothing and want to learn. Which way do you want to go?”
Liam stepped in front and rounded on me. He raised one finger, pointed it at me, opened his mouth, and I grabbed
the finger in my fist. I locked eyes with him and gave him my deadliest glare. I smiled my best teeth-baring smile—it’s not a smile, per se, more of a predator display.
“Think very carefully, son,” I said, softly, “about what you’re about to say and to whom you are saying it.”
“I…” he began, and swallowed heavily. “Do you…” he tried, and stopped. He considered his words carefully. “How do I learn to fight a war?”
I let go of his finger and thought about the question. Aside from grabbing a couple thousand people and having at it, how do you train a general?
“I tell you what,” I offered. “You know how to play sicaricudo?”
“Of course.”
“It’s a game for training a bodyguard. There are other games for learning how to fight a war. I’ll bring you one.”
We started walking again. After a moment, I realized I was lost. Damn palace maze.
“Where are we, anyway?”
“Second floor, near the Tower of the Stars.”
“Show me to Seldar’s chambers, please.”
“You don’t know your way around your own palace?”
“This is Lissette’s palace,” I countered. “Mine is farther east.”
“Oh,” he replied, flustered. “So it is.”
We proceeded to find Seldar. His face lit up when Liam showed me into his office. It was a nice office, I had to admit. Rather than a single desk in the middle, it had three worktables occupying the back wall and part of the sides. Four chairs surrounded a medium-sized table in the center. Maps were all over the walls, mostly hand-drawn, but a mural on one wall was a magically-reproduced picture of a high-altitude scrying spell. I liked the reproduction. It reminded me of a satellite view. Not necessarily as useful as a real map, but accurate. Not too helpful for navigation, but quite nice for gauging the size of cities, the forest borders, and the width of rivers. The hand-drawn maps were on par with stick figure art—okay if you only want a road atlas, not so much for details. Between the two, it wasn’t half bad.
How much work would it take to create a live, real-time illusion on a wall? Sort of a satellite view of the world? If I placed scrying sensors along the inner surface of the Firmament, looking down, how many would it take to get a good look at the whole world? This half of it, I mean.
“Sire. I am delighted you found time to visit.”
“Always happy to see one of the big three,” I replied. “Is there anything I need to know or do?”
“Not of which I am aware. The Bright Queen has the kingdom and its preparations for war well in hand.”
“Good. She said as much, but I wanted to make sure she wasn’t about to blindsided by something unexpected.”
“You are ever considerate in this way, Master of Irony.” He hefted a box from beneath one of the worktables. “The materials you requested, Sire.”
I opened the box. There was no scabbard, but there were scales, a couple of teeth, some leather, and several stoppered vials. I couldn’t identify the fluids on sight, but I didn’t doubt their origin.
“Thank you, Seldar.”
“It is my honor and pleasure to be of service, Sire.”
“What’s in the box?” Liam asked.
“Dragon bits,” I replied. “I’m a wizard, remember?”
“Dragon bits,” he repeated. “For a spell?”
“Not exactly, but close. Seldar? If you’ll excuse us?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s find the front door,” I told Liam. He frowned, but led me through the maze again. Once outside, Liam came down the steps with me as Bronze came around the side of the building. A stableboy and two hostlers followed her, not daring to stop her and not certain how to try. I waved them over and explained how Bronze would do exactly as she pleased. Feed her like feeding a fire—wood, coal, lamp oil, whatever—but never presume to lay a hand on her without her permission.
They didn’t like it. I guess horses are supposed to be more agreeable. Although Bronze is probably the most agreeable horse in the universe.
“Father?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you truly have a… a game? One to teach me about war?”
“It won’t teach you everything. It won’t teach you to lead men, for example. What it will do is help you to understand strategy, tactics, and logistics. The rest you have to learn through actual experience. It’s a good start, but not all there is to know.”
“Thank you.”
“I do what I can.”
“I’m sorry you can’t do more.”
“So am I.”
I leaped aboard Bronze and we were off.
Apocalyptica, Friday, October 17th, Year 11
I gave Diogenes the box of dragon-bits and his robots started analyzing draconic biology. I don’t know if he can clone a dragon, but we’re going to find out. I just hope he doesn’t need me to bring him a live one. I have no good memories of facing dragons.
As for Liam and his generalship, Diogenes had access to a number of different systems of wargames. He stamped out detailed plastic miniatures, printed up several Rethven-language translations of the rules, and fabricated a footlocker full of terrain features. I read through the rules for translation problems, but I should have known Diogenes wouldn’t make that sort of mistake. I sent it to Seldar, not Liam. Seldar would read and understand the rules and explain how to play the game to Liam.
The game alone wouldn’t be enough. Then again, there’s no way to adequately prepare someone for a war. It’s like sex or swimming. You can explain it all you want, but sooner or later you have to get wet. Some people take to it instantly, some don’t. There’s no way to tell for sure until they try it.
I was in the whirlpool after a hearty lunch when Diogenes spoke up.
“Professor, I have an observation regarding the activities of the lunar inhabitants.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“My observatories have noted spacecraft taking up geosynchronous station over the Kenya space elevator. Based on their lens arrays, I infer them to be spy satellites.”
“So, the Moon is interested in the thing. Good. Maybe we should draw out the words ‘space elevator’ on the ground in big letters.”
“I will task an earth mover.”
“Thank you. How’s the progress on your cyborg humans coming along?”
“I am still in the adaptive stage of the project. Several human clones have been recycled due to improper computer interface implantation, but that procedure is no longer a problem. A number of medical implants are being tested, but they are not designed for complete control of a human body. Some functions require trial and error testing, since we are attempting to adapt medical assistive devices to more rigorous uses.”
“So, no Diogeclones, yet?”
“Not yet, Professor.”
“Next week?” I asked, half-heartedly.
“Highly unlikely.”
“Oh, well. Keep me posted.”
“Of course, Professor.”
Apocalyptica, Monday, October 20th, Year 11
I put Beltar and Seldar on notification duty. They were each to contact me when the fleet set sail. My altar ego was also apprised of my desire for information. He agreed to make the third in my informational trinity.
Mary was off doing her businesswoman thing. At least, I presume she was. No doubt there was also something out there about to be stolen, but everyone needs a hobby.
Diogenes informed me the repairs to the Niagara exploration bunkers were complete. They were all back on-line and continuing their methodical examination of new worlds.
I didn’t have anything to do. At least, nothing I could think of at that particular time. I suppose I could have gone Boojum-vampire hunting, but I hadn’t yet worked out a spell to sever the link between a vampire and the Boojum. I suppose I should have immediately started research on it once I found a Boojum-infested dragon…
It bothered me that the Boojum could manifest in different ways in dif
ferent worlds. I had hoped he was a one-trick pony with no imagination. By and large, he appears to be. Vampires are his go-to method. But that dragon bothered me. Maybe he was experimenting, trying out a new tactic.
Still, I didn’t have anything pressuring me to get to work. Under normal circumstances, I would spend my time in The Manor, quietly reading and watching it rain. Now, though, it didn’t appeal.
Bronze suggested we go for a run. I accepted.
An hour later, after tearing along forest trails, leaping gullies, and planting dish-sized hoofprints in mountain rock, we thundered up one of the access roads to Cybertron. —Denver. I mean Denver.
We slowed to a walk and she headed to the area where Diogenes set up storage for her unoccupied bodies—mostly Blacks, but I wasn’t surprised to see a couple of cars. I was surprised to see another life-sized statue of Bronze.
“Bronze?”
She twitched an ear. It’s good to have a spare body. She still remembers the last time.
“Diogenes?”
“Professor?”
“She might also want some combat units. A tank, perhaps. Maybe some sort of aircraft. I don’t know if she knows how to fly, but she can get in some practice.”
“Of course, Professor.”
Bronze was dubious, but willing to give it a shot. She moved toward a trough of diesel fuel. I dismounted and left her to it. I took the booth to the residence.
“I have an update on the Foothold backup site,” Diogenes reported.
“Oh? Good. How’s it going?” I asked, heading for the bath again. I need to use a deflection spell when Bronze gets up to speed. Bugs. Think about it.
“The main base is complete,” Diogenes reported. “Resource extraction is on schedule and a viable, self-sustaining infrastructure should be in place within the year.”
“How’s it looking as a new base of operations?”
“In which scenario, Professor? Total loss, rapid evacuation, or change of flag?”
“Bullet point them for me.”
“In a total loss scenario, where you and/or Mary are the sole evacuees from Apocalyptica, provisions have been made for your survival until the main infrastructure comes on-line. It will require a shift in production priorities, building smaller, independent production facilities rather than relying on the Apocalyptica factories. It will delay the planetary reclamation effort considerably.