After about ten minutes a hatch opened just in front of Rick and Tylara. A wide gangway lowered itself. -
"Welcome aboard," the ship's voice said. It didn't sound anything like Les.
Tylara took Rick's hand. "Shall we go, my husband?"
He nodded, then grabbed her to kiss her. As he broke away he whispered, "Remember. Not only Les will hear everything we say while we are in that ship. Other-"
She smiled and nodded, and Rick wondered if she believed him. After all, she'd never seen a recording device, and describing one wasn't the same as showing it- Nothing he could do about that.
They went inside. The compartment was nearly bare. Rick looked closely. There were stains on the deck in one corner. This was the same ship that had brought them to Tran, no doubt about that.
In one corner of the compartment there were two piles of Japanese futons. On top of one of the piles was a package wrapped in brightly printed paper and tied with a scarlet bow. Tylara stared at it. The paper was printed with replicas of famous miniature portraits.
"It is lovely," she said. "I have not seen-"
"Ah, my lady, it is a gift for you." This time Les used his own voice, rather than the impersonal computer-generated one he'd used earlier. "Now, please be seated-"
Rick pushed the two piles of futons together and flopped into one of them. Tylara gingerly sat beside him. She clutched the package tightly.
"Will you not open it?" Les asked.
"I-it is so beautiful-"
"Let me, sweetheart," Rick said. He took the package and carefully worked the bow so that it came off without damaging it. Tylara took it and held it experimentally to her hair. The ends of the package were sealed with Scotch tape. Rick took out his pocket knife and slit the tape so that he could remove the printed paper without tearing it. Tylara watched nervously.
"I should have brought more wrapping paper," Les said. "I think I have some picture books. You can have those."
"Thank you," Tylara said. She sounded sincere. The box contained a bracelet and necklace of Navajo turquoise and silver, elaborately gaudy. Tylara gasped with pleasure. "Marvelous!" she exclaimed. She put on the bracelet and admired it on her arm. "There is nothing like it in all of Tamaerthon. Or Drantos."
That's for sure, Rick thought. But of course she'd like it.
They settled onto the futons. "Thank you," Tylara said.
A screen in the forward part of the compartment suddenly came to life. It showed Les in his command chair on the ship's semi-darkened bridge. "There's something for you, too, Colonel," Les said. "Under your cushions there-"
Rick felt under the pile and found a wooden box, not wrapped. Inside was a bottle of Talisker Scotch and four crystal glasses packed in Styrofoam worms. There was also a bottle of Campari.
"Have a drink with me?" Les asked. "Sorry I can't invite you up to the bridge. 'Thees starship ees going to Havana, Seсor,' with those minigrenades to make the point-well, the idea doesn't quite appeal to me."
"I don't suppose it would," Rick said. He tried to keep his voice calm. The grenades in his pockets suddenly seemed five times their size and weight.
"My lady might prefer Campari," Les said.
"Fat chance," Rick muttered. "She's had Scotch." He opened the Talisker and poured for himself and Tylara.
Les turned to face the screen and lifted his own glass. "Cheers, then," he said.
"Cheers," Rick said. Tylara muttered something. They both drank.
Tylara grimaced slightly at the taste. Rick frowned a question at her.
"I recall the previous time," she said. "I was pleased with your strong-whisky. But-"
But you'd just been raped by Sarakos, Rick thought. And this reminds you. Yeah. I should have insisted you have Campari.
"Ready?" Les asked.
"Yes," Rick said.
A moment later they were pressed into the futons.
The screen blurred, then showed the ground falling away. Tylara gasped and moved closer to him. The ship rose, and then they were high enough to see Castle Armagh with its blaze of bonfires. She shivered slightly.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Rick whispered. "We're no higher than-than the highest mountains." He'd almost mentioned Larry Warner and the balloon, but there was no point in telling the ship's recorders about that.
The ship began to move, and Armagh slipped off the edge of the screen. The Firestealer gave enough light to recognize the major terrain features. They were going west, following the main road to Castle Dravan.
Coincidence or design? Rick wondered. After all, when they first came to Tran they'd been set down not far from Dravan, and this was the main road west…
Tylara pointed and looked afraid. "The children," she whispered.
Yeah. Our kids are down there- He pointed and nodded. "Yes, I think you're right, that's where we established the orphanages," he said. "Not too far from where the ship first set us down. Les, are we sightseeing?"
"Maybe a little," Les said. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all. Except if you go much farther west I'd appreciate it if the ship isn't seen. Our army's out there somewhere. They just won a big battle with Westmen-those are nomads from the high plains above the big escarpment. The Westmen already think there was too much wizardry for it to have been a fair fight."
"So if they see the ship, they might think it's impossible to make an honorable peace, so they may as well die fighting?"
"Something like that, yeah."
"No problem," Les said.
The lights below shrank rapidly, and now there were clouds below them. After a few moments the screen changed, zooming in on the plains below. They passed the Littlescarp, and the scene on the screen changed rapidly, as if the camera were searching the high plains. Then it stabilized on camp fires, and zoomed in again.
Tylara stirred. "That is the host of Drantos," she said wonderingly. There was terror in her eyes. She started to speak, but Rick pulled her to him and kissed her.
She looked startled for a moment, then nodded understanding.
I know, my darling, Rick thought. There is our army, the most powerful force you've ever seen, down there below like toy soldiers, down there where it would be like child's play to throw skyfire at them. But don't say it, don't even think it too loud- "How does Yatar rule those with such power?"
She asked softly. "Or-does Yatar rule the sky-folk?" Rick shook his head. "I don't know," he said softly.
Not even if you translate the question into modern theology. Is there a God? Is there any reason for ethics? Does the universe care one lick whether people are decent or beastly to one another?
"He rules your heart, my love," Tylara whispered. "And that is enough for me."
The screen brightened, then changed to a map of the eastern part of the settled region of Tran. At least this settled region, Rick told himself. He'd never learned just how far west this continent was inhabited, or whether the other continent was inhabited at all.
The map stretched from Rome to the Westscarp, and as Rick watched, a numbered grid superimposed itself. "If you wouldn't mind," Les said. "It would be well to get on with our cargo collection."
That would be for the recorders. There'd be damned little cargo at the University, but Rick thought Les must have a way to deal with that. More interesting was how he carefully didn't mention Gwen in the hearing of the ship…
The ship settled into the hills above the University. Les sent Rick and Tylara out, then joined them a few moments later. He was carrying his suitcase and the control box. The ship whined and rose into the dawning sky.
"Well, here we are," Les said. "What's down there?"
"My University," Rick said. "Gwen is the Rector." Les whistled in exaggerated respect. "Oh-ho. Well, we'd best get on with it. Looks like a long walk. Should have set the ship down closer."
Tylara chuckled. "Captain," she said, "one might almost doubt your love for the Lady Gwen. You complain of a few stadia we must walk. What of the tales of lovers who
would swim boiling seas or walk ten thousand leagues to join their ladies?" -
There was a pause long enough to worry Rick. Then Les laughed. "They may have had more difficult journeys," he said. "But none of them ever had a longer one."
36
The messenger from the Roman pickets brought word to Gwen Tremaine just as the True Sun rose. A skyship had been seen.
She put on a robe and covered her hair with a snood, and went to her office before she had tea.
"It was as you ordered, lady," the decurion said. "We watched the hills, and we saw it descending, not so bright as a star. I have never seen its like before."
"Few have," Gwen said.
"The cohort now searches those hills for any gifts the sky-folk may have left. If we find any, we will bring them to the University. Have you more orders, lady?"
"No. Thank you, Decurion." She opened a desk drawer and took out a bag of coins, and shook several into her hand. "Buy wine for your unit, and say they have done well."
"Thank you, lady."
As the Roman left, Marva brought tea and biscuits.
"Join me," Gwen said. She indicated a chair. Marva sat and poured the tea.
"It is good news, Lady Gwen?"
"I don't know, Lady Marva. I truly don't know."
This is my life, Gwen thought. To be in this office, to govern this University. To teach these people, and watch as their lives improve. It is my life. She twisted her fingers together. This must endure. I've got to do something. Did it really land? And who?
Suddenly she stood, gulped her tea, and ran to her apartment on the floor below. What should I wear? There's nothing here- By mid-morning she'd turned her closets into chaos, and brought both Marva and herself to tears. Get hold of yourself, girl! Suppose it is Les. Do you want him to see you like this? Send Mary for a stiff drink. Two, she deserves one for herself. And put on your regular working gown. It's the best you have except for the blue one Larry gave you, and that's too formal for daytime- And the children! If it's Les he'll want to see his son.
And if it's a Shalnuksi executioner? It can't be- "Lady Marva?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Have Nurse take the children to the Roman f or-tress. She's to keep them there until I send for them. You go with them."
"Is there-do you fear the sky-folk?" Marva asked. "But will they not be like-the others we have known?"
"I don't know," Gwen said. "And I'm afraid-"
"I will see to the children," Marva said. "Then I will return."
"No! Stay at the fortress-"
"My lady, not even the fortress will prevent us from skyfire. My husband told me that many times. But I can ask the commandant to send the children beyond the hills-"
"No, that's silly," Gwen said. "There will be no skyfire. All the same-do have Nurse take the children to the fortress."
There was a knock at her office door. "Come," she called.
Larry Warner came in. "First time ever," he said. "Nobody in your outer office. Why?"
"I sent-"
"Never mind. I know," Warner said. "The Romans sent word. They're on their way in now."
"Who?"
"Cap'n Galloway, Lady Tylara, and a starman."
"A starman?"
"Yeah. All human. I described the Shalnuksis to the centurion, and he said it surely wasn't one of them."
"Larry, you shouldn't have described-"
"Oh, shove the secrecy up sideways! It's their planet, they have a right to know what's threatening it!" He gripped his hair with both hands.
"You'll be as bald as Telly Savalas if you go on doing that," she said. She giggled despite herself.
"Good to see you laugh," Warner said. "Now you keep your head and let me worry about mine." He drew his binoculars from beneath his professorial gown. "They ought to be just about at the town gates," he said. "Should be able to see 'em from your balcony there in a minute. Gwen-it's probably Les."
"I know."
"What'll you do?"
"That's what I don't know." She eyed him warily. "Are you about to give me advice?"
"No, ma'am." He winked at her. "You have to play this hand yourself, and I don't need to say it's important. Naw, all I was going to say is if you need somebody to watch your back, I'm available. I won't draw on the Captain for you, but short of that-"
"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 manner of Roman soldiers, the University cohorts spent much of their time building. The Roman camp was surrounded by coal-fired baths. A line of stone buildings was springing up next to it, while on the campus itself the Roman engineers had laid chalk lines to mark a new quadrangle.
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.
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