by Andre Norton
I Yoroc nodded to himself. That made sense. It would both punish
opposition and reduce the likelihood of rebellion. The depopulated lands
could be worked by docile settlers imported from the Mainland…
"Why?" he asked. "Why this hatred of them and your desire to help
me?"
"We aid you because you can accomplish our will. Any more is not your
concern."
"There are but five of you…"
"The remainder of your soldiers would be no more trouble to us than
those who rode with you today. We would use them in the same manner…
You have our proposal. Do you accept it?"
"I have your proposal," the Ton of Condor Hall responded firmly. "I
shall consider it in my own time. I am the one facing war. You are risking
your gold, some of your gold. It is my life and my lands that I would be
chancing. In the meantime, I will have the gold you promised to test to
confirm that it is genuine."
"If you will have gold, we shall have payment. Your arms…"
I Yoroc's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "Our arms and the arms of
our escort, we keep. However, that carrion is of no further use to us. You
want blood. Take the three of them as your payment. I shall come again
soon if I decide that we have more to say to one another."
6
MURDOCK'S HEART WAS hammering wildly, although his will was
strong enough to insure that his agitation did not become apparent to
those around him.
This was not their first such meeting. His party had traveled the length
of the island from its southernmost tip where they had landed, carrying
warning of the danger overshadowing them to those Tons of each region
whom their studies had named as leaders of the confederation whose
success they were striving to promote.
They had met with a good measure of success, for their story was
strong and the evidence they had brought to corroborate it had been
expertly prepared. The various domains would see to their arms and
supplies, and their rulers would meet to discuss the possibility of uniting
to combat Zanthor I Yoroc should he prove the threat these strangers
claimed. In so far, the timing of their organization had been advanced by
crucial months, but no army would actually assemble, much less move
north, not at this stage. Not one of the southern rulers could be that
powerfully convinced of the reality of the hordes of mercenaries that would
all too soon be marching against them.
Once again, Gordon Ashe had delivered his news and was facing the
same battery of arguments, but this time, success, or the greatest possible
success, was essential. They were sitting in Sapphirehold's great hall, and
facing them was Ton Luroc I Loran and his chief military and civil staff.
Fail here, and they had blown the whole.
"I do not hesitate to believe the darkness you impute to the Ton of
Condor Hall, Healer O Ashean," Luroc said slowly, almost more to himself
than to his guest. "I am not alone in thinking him no true son of Life's
Queen, but that he represents such utter peril, that I cannot accept. Good
though his domain might be in comparison with the rest here in the
north, it still could not support so great a host of hired swords as you
describe."
Ross felt the sour taste of defeat rise inside him. The meeting was going
the way of all the others, and they would gain no more from it than the
Ton's promise to stay on the alert himself and put his domain's garrison
on the alert. That might be enough for the time being in the south, but
here, they required a more concrete response. Without Luroc's full belief
and support behind them, they could not begin to do what had to be done
in order to preserve the domain as a fighting force and, through it, to
preserve Dominion of Virgin.
Damn it to every version of hell he had ever heard described, what was
the matter with these people? They had no trouble imagining that one of
their kind could seriously consider annexing their lands by force of arms,
but to a one, they could not bring themselves to believe that he could
secure the means to carry his plans to fruition. By the time Zanthor taught
them otherwise, it would be too late for everyone except the would-be
conqueror himself.
His eyes burned in his impatience. "You're wrong, Ton," he said
suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the speakers. "Condor
Hall can hire mercenaries and has hired them, and they'll stay long
enough to fulfill its ruler's aim if we don't move at once to thwart him. It'll
be too late to do that in even a few more weeks."
Murdock knew he had breached custom in addressing the Ton and the
company assembled with him. Men and the few women who made a
career of war for any purpose except to secure the safety of their native
domains were not held in high regard, however quickly their talents were
sought when reason dictated that they could be of good service. A
mercenary did not inject his presence into a conference such as this
unbidden, whatever his rank among his own kind. Eveleen and he would
not even have been present had their testimony not been required.
The others there, including his own comrades, looked sharply at him,
some in annoyance, all in surprise.
Ross set his hands on the table before him. He had begun. Now it was
up to him to state his case well. He would have one chance, or part of a
chance, and nothing more. "I'm a man of war, Ton I Loran, not a manager
of lands," he went on quickly, while he still had the assembly's attention.
"Columns, not mere companies, would serve Condor Hall for a short span,
or longer if their troops were granted the rape of his first, easy conquests
and their commanders promised rich domains in the south, to be held in
loyalty to Zanthor, as part of their service contract. There's probably not
one of us of any significant rank who doesn't occasionally dream of
winning such a holding, however slight the chance of that's ever
happening might be in fact. There're men in plenty who'll fight for its lure,
assuming reasonable interim recompense as well."
The Ton's expression was dark as he studied the supposed warrior, but
it was with concern rather than anger. "If that be so," he said at last,
"what purpose was there in your coming to us? What can a few hundred
soldiers accomplish against so many, or this joining of the southern
domains, for that matter, if Zanthor I Yoroc can draw on virtually limitless
hosts to support him?"
Ross Murdock smiled. "Not limitless, Ton. The column Commandants
will serve long-term solely for the promise of land. There are only a finite
number of domains, north or south, and Zanthor won't want to parcel so
many of them out, away from his direct control, that he, in effect, would
only be trading one set of rulers for another.
"No, you can't meet him in a straight fight. I don't think the whole
north could even if there was time enough to ready yourselves. It's the
Confederacy that has to beat him. Sapphirehold's business is to buy Ton I
Carlroc time, and to preserve our own h
ides while we're doing it."
Luroc's heavy brows raised. "Preserve our hides?" he echoed.
The Time Agent shrugged. "It's my plan, Ton I Loran, the only one my
companions and I believe has any chance of success. It requires a different
kind of fighting, one that must involve all your people. If you're willing to
give it a try, I offer my services to conduct it, or at least to prepare your
folk for it."
The other said nothing for several long seconds. "What is your name,
man of war?" he asked at the end of that time.
The Terran released the breath he had been holding, taking care not to
betray the extent of his relief. In asking that he identify himself, the
Dominionite ruler was giving him leave to enter into serious discussion on
an equal's footing, thus permitting genuine give and take and open
argument if necessary. "Rossin A Murdoc, Ton. A Captain of mercenaries."
"This plan of yours, Captain?"
Ross described the partisan war he envisioned and the preparations the
domain would have to make for it to succeed.
He was greeted by dark scowls when he finished speaking. "You would
have us cower in the hills like wardwolves, surrender our homes and fields
without a struggle at all?" demanded a young man, very handsome by the
flat-faced standard of his race. He was clad in the plain uniform of the
domain's garrison, and a Lieutenant's stripe ran diagonally across his
breast.
"I'd have you fight so you can win. It'll be a costly war no matter what
you do. Conduct it as I describe, and you'll at least have a chance. You'll
also more than triple your force, since all the able-bodied population can
be trained to wage it."
"As for your dwellings and fields, you couldn't hold them anyway.
Accept that they're gone until Zanthor's defeated, establish others in
secret, and put the old ones to the torch when you must to deny Condor
Hall's forces the use of them."
"That's easy enough for a landless, homeless man to say," the other
snapped hotly.
"Easy or hard, I'm only stating fact. The loss is inevitable. It's up to you
to decide whether it will work to your enemy's benefit or against him."
"Be still, Allran," Luroc commanded, silencing the reply the young
officer would have made. "You offer to lead us, Captain A Murdoc. Are you
capable of doing so? A man needs two sound hands to fight and at the
same time control his mount."
The Time Agent started, for a moment at a loss as to the other's
meaning. His eyes dropped to his hands then, where they lay clearly
exposed on the table, to the left with its terrible ridging of scar tissue.
Among people of this technical level, such burns would probably have
taken the member itself, much less the use of it.
He lifted his arm so that all could see it and flexed his fingers several
times. "It still works," he told the Ton.
Eveleen Riordan's head raised. "A man with the courage to hold his
own hand in fire rather than give his enemies their will over him can also
be expected to have the strength to work with that hand when Life's
Queen so blessed him as to send him a healer capable of preserving it."
A good move, Gordon thought. It established Ross as a person of
considerable fortitude, and it lay to rest before they ever arose any
questions as to why a full Captain should bind himself for a significant
stretch of time to the dull and relatively unprofitable business of riding
escort to a wandering scholar. Gratitude for such a service, which must
class as a near miracle, would be more compelling than any oath. Eveleen
herself was posing as Murdock's chief officer, bound to remain with him
whether he currently commanded the company to which his rank entitled
him or not.
The frown did not leave I Loran's expression. "You ask a great deal on
the weight of your party's word alone, Captain."
"Benefit only can come to you for following his suggestions," Ashe told
him smoothly.
As he had anticipated, the other looked startled. "How so, Healer?"
"If our warning proves accurate, as we fear and know it must, you shall
have preserved your people, your stock and crops, and your portable
possessions. Not only will you have salvaged your fighters, but you'll have
multiplied their number several times over, and you'll have so positioned
them that they'll be able to make a major contribution to the defeat of
your enemy."
"Truly spoken," the Dominionite man said dryly, "but if these
mercenary hordes of which you speak fail to materialize, I shall have made
myself a merry jest for half the domains on this island."
"On the contrary, Ton I Loran. You'll still profit well. Anyone who
laughs will show himself to be the fool." The archeologist leaned back,
clasping his hands before him. Ross half smiled, recognizing a glimmer of
his old trader technique… "At the very least, you'll gain two harvests, and
you'll have established fields and farms in the highlands, including the
necessary dwellings and outbuildings. Should you want to continue using
them, if only for pasturing your stock, it would be a relatively simple
matter to move willing families up to take charge of them."
The blue eyes grew grave. "Less concrete but perhaps even more
important, whether we're right or wrong, you'll have bound your folk to
you with a loyalty that would send them through a wall of flame for your
sake since you took such care to save them before the full scope of the
danger threatening Sapphirehold was even definitely established."
Luroc nodded. His eyes fixed once more on Murdock. "You will teach
my people, Sapphirehold's men, women, and children, how to fight this
strange kind of war?"
The agent's mouth twisted as he suddenly recalled Terra's history and
the countless generations of little ones whose lives had been blighted by
her eternal conflicts. "The adults," he responded a bit sharply. "We'll leave
the rest be."
It had not been a studied answer, but he could feel a change, a
warming, in those around him. These were not men who sought war, even
those who served in the domain's garrison. They wanted only to work at
their various professions and protect their own, and it sat well with all of
them that this strange fighter cared that their children, at least, should be
shielded as much as possible from what he believed was soon to come.
"I'll show you the kind of fighting I mean. Lieutenant EA Riordan will
handle the basic weapons instruction."
That last was met with looks of incredulity on every side. It was not so
much her sex that sparked the reaction, he knew… No one attained rank,
or survived at all, as a mercenary without being well able to use the tools
of the profession… It was quite simply her size. Dominion's people were
big. Every one of the men around them was tall and powerfully muscled in
proportion, with a stocky, solid build that magnified the impression of
great bulk. Gordon and he looked no more than adolescents among them.
Eveleen Riordan seemed like a young girl barely on the threshold of
; physical womanhood. He could hardly even blame these strangers for
doubting her abilities as they obviously did.
The weapons expert had come to the same conclusion. She smiled at
Luroc. "I've taught arms use," she explained, "and so am the most logical
choice to deal with the instruction of beginners. It's your farmers and
artisans that I'll be teaching, after all. The warriors of your garrison
already know how to manage a bow and sword and would have no interest
in coming to me." She stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Unless
we have some different technique or manner of usage that they might like
to learn. We come from a distance and may have skills unfamiliar here."
Murdock studied her speculatively. It had come to him that Eveleen
fought most of her battles thus, with diplomacy, often accompanied by an
air of not entirely manufactured shyness or even diffidence at times. It was
a skill he had best acquire. Fast. One did not win friends and allies by
stripping men, or women, either, of their pride and standing among their
own.
He took up the argument once more. "Previous teaching experience
aside, I specifically want Lieutenant EA Riordan to handle the weapons
training. Your folk will be conscious of their lack of experience even after
they achieve technical competence with their arms. They couldn't be
otherwise knowing they'll have to go up against hardened mercenaries.
Eveleeni's small and slight and stands as living testimony of what can be
accomplished despite the lack of size and enormous strength. It's my hope
that Sapphirehold's people will be able to carry that lesson over to their
own case as well."
The agent leaned back in his chair, much as Gordon had done earlier.
"It's a given that she's got the necessary skills, but you do have a right to
see some proof of the fact. Let's go to your training yard and let her send a
quiver of arrows into a target."
Allran A Aldar frowned. "You want her to shoot against my men?"
"No, only to show you that she can shoot."
Eveleen turned to the Sapphireholder. "What would be the purpose in a
competition, Lieutenant?" she asked. "I have no reason to try to best your
men, if I could, and I know those I'm supposed to teach are novices. Why
should I want to make less of them? It certainly wouldn't do much toward