As he approached Traeleon's desk, the special convert raised both hands to remove his hood. His appearance was some changed since the Archdeacon had seen him last. Originally, Traeleon had thought him of advanced years, but now he would have said that the man was no more than middle-aged. His face, though weathered, no longer had the texture of worn parchment and his thick hair now had more dark strands among the gray.
"Greetings, Archdeacon Traeleon, son of Estren, son of Maerloughe, son of Kaeriy, son of Triyiy who was born on Gh'emhoa," the special convert declared. "I am Waleck of Gh'emhoa and we have much to discuss."
SEVENTEEN
Mar watched with bemusement as Telriy attacked another bowl of porridge. "I can't see how you can stomach that without salt or butter. It tastes like sawdust to me."
She grinned. "I've developed a taste for it this way."
"There's some nice, juicy bacon left. Do you want it?"
"No, I --" Telriy stopped, made the beginning of a retching sound, snatched up a glass of water, and proceeded to drain it.
"Something go down the wrong way?"
Still washing water down her throat, she gave a quick, short nod.
"I'm going to see Aunt Whelsi in a bit. She wants to make sure everything is healing up properly. Want to come along?"
Still not seeming to have regained her equilibrium, Telriy put the glass down with exaggerated care and shook her head. "No, Yhejia and I are going to do laundry. Then I'm going to run Number One down to the lumber camp to pick up a load of green timbers for Master Khlosb'ihs. He's built a kiln and wants to try a method of fast drying the wood that Lord Chelsfyor told him about."
"After Aunt Whelsi, I told Subaltern Mhygaeus that I take a look at his larger polybolos prototype. It weighs almost ten hundredweight and doesn't spin well on the wheels he designed. When I done with that, I've set aside the remainder of the day to manufacture sand spheres. I'll see you for supper?"
"If I get done in time."
On their return to the Monolith, he and Telriy had reoccupied her room, mooring Number One to a mast raised on the collapsed western wing. Likewise, the rest of the crew had taken up their places. Ulor, Yhejia and their extended family occupied a suite of rooms near Telriy's. Aelwyrd had established a dormitory for his Auxiliaries in an eastern wing. Eishtren and his legionnaires kept a large dayroom at the north end of the villa, but slept aboard the skyship.
Phehlahm, Chaer, E'hve and the Hangers-On had immediately begun work on a barracks in previously excavated, but bare, rooms on the ground floor. When Mar floated over the balcony and down to the courtyard level, they were all waiting for him. Without irritation, he had accepted the fact that he must travel at ground level to accommodate his guards, since they would sprint flat out to catch up if he flew directly. With the ever present threat of Phaelle'n attack remaining uppermost in everyone's mind, the sight of the fully armored, running armsmen tended to disturb the civilians.
Aunt Whelsi had established her clinic and residence on the remnant of a leisurely promenade that had originally run for almost a third league along one section of the wandering southern edge of the escarpment. Most of its western half and environs had suffered considerable collapse, but at the eastern terminus many of the buildings were in good shape. The witch's choice had been one particular standout, a compact, tower-like building adjacent to a rough scrabble area that in better times had been a garden.
Obliquely square, with sharp, out-thrust corners, the fifteen manheight structure possessed formidable walls formed of huge, finely chiseled blocks. Various empty anchor wells in its walls and base suggested that it may have been a smithy or manufactory. Hollow when found and judged structurally sound by the engineers, Master Khlosb'ihs and his neighbors along with a large number of marine and legionnaire volunteers had cleared debris and added three interior floors to the nurse's specifications. The former group had taken up lodging in nearby structures and many assisted as needed in the clinic.
When Mar left the villa, he had to head south toward the skyship dock, turn west at a cross street still burdened with collected piles of rubble, and then follow a well-trod path over a mound covered in briar and bramble to reach the promenade. A jutting thrust of the plateau allowed the walkway to make a looping curve, forming a wide terrace in front of the clinic, and this is where he and his band found the witch.
She had only a few patients this morning, a number of elderly men and women sitting around on reclining chairs and one small boy who had a large splinter stuck in his thumb. While she attended these, Mar idled near the chest-high wall at the edge, turning his face up toward the sun and letting its baking warmth soothe some of his aches. Phehlahm and the others waited on wooden benches nearer the arched entrance of the clinic.
"I picked it because of this terrace," Aunt Whelsi told him a little while later when she finished with her other ministrations. "Facing south, it will get good sun year round. If nothing else, the sun warms the bones. Best thing for someone that has come down with the chills or has bad joints."
"Well, it certainly makes me feel better, at least for a little while."
"If you were a regular patient, I'd say that you need several months of recuperation."
"There's no time for that."
Aunt Whelsi shrugged. "How is the Queen this morning? Is she eating well?"
As he had expected, the nurse obviously knew about Telriy's progressing motherhood. His awareness of the ether had revealed the secret to him before they had left Khalar. Having sometime ago discovered that the flux fields generated by a human being were unique to the individual, he had known for almost a fortnight that Telriy's had changed.
"How did you know?" he asked her.
"I don't have a song for that, if that's what you're wondering. Just lots of experience. I'm called to be midwife as often as to tend the sick. Of course, a lot of women just blab to everyone as if having a baby were something extraordinary, but I can usually tell even with the ones that are closemouthed. A woman has a different manner about her when she first knows she's with child. It depends on the woman, true enough, and her circumstance. A woman that already has a house full tends to be a little put out. A woman that has lost babies will be anxious in a certain way and given to being very careful about certain things. A new mother will be excited and scared. An older woman might be surprised. Your Queen, she's all kinds of happy and skittish, like she's liable to bolt in any direction at the first noise."
"She seems to be eating a lot more, but I didn't think the signs would come on this quick."
"Well, let's see. The way it looks to me, you and she started to get along much better just before you left in Number One?"
"I guess you could say that." He wondered if it were common knowledge that they had not consummated their makeshift marriage until recently.
"So, that was the first half of Waning in Harvestmoon?"
"Yes. Fourthday."
"Today is Fifthday, Waxing, Second Autumnmoon. That's forty-four days. So, no, it's not too soon. A lot of young people don't seem to realize how easy it is to get with child. I don't doubt that she took the very first time you were together after your reconciliation. She won't start showing for another month or so, but it's not unusual for her to start feeling the effects of the growing baby. You're lucky she hasn't been struck by morning sickness. For the first few months anyway, some women seem to vomit all over everything. Why, my first child, I --"
"I didn't know you had a family."
"Two daughters and a son, mostly grown now. My oldest, the girls, are married off now and one's expecting and the other's trying to be. What with the war, waiting didn't seem like a good idea. One son-in-law's a legionnaire and the other works with Master Khlosb'ihs though he's angling to be taken on as crew on one of the new skyships. My boy just joined the militia."
"What about your husband?"
"He was a sailor. Three years ago he took a berth on a galley bound for Mhevyr. It was a stormy spring. The galley never mad
e port again and neither did he."
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be. We had eighteen mostly good years. If there's one thing that I've learned from being a nurse, it's that there are no guarantees. Well, I can't stand here all day chatting. I've got visitations to make. Let's have a look at those stubs."
The emplacement for the new polybolos was a five minute hike further west along the uncleared area of the promenade and then a short trek through variegated ruins to a headland jutting from the edge of the plateau. At the top of a small hillock that had an unobstructed view of the sky, Mhajhkaeirii masons had built a solid stone platform ringed by a sloping, armlength-thick brick defensive wall, more or less in the shape of a berm, that reached up to the launch rail of the machine. The position had been chosen to give protection to the south and west, and plans called for a ring of such emplacements all about the settlement area. Eventually, the aerial defense ring would be expanded to cover the entire Monolith.
Subaltern Mhygaeus, a number of his carpenters and ironmongers, and an operating crew of legionnaires were waiting when Mar and his guards arrived.
The new model was bigger, standing better than a manheight tall, and clearly much heavier, with steel struts supporting the laminated wood bow, brass gears, and a large hopper. The long crank handles sticking out to either side indicated that it took four men to operate the mechanism.
"Well, what's the problem with it, Mhygaeus?" Mar asked, circling about it.
"It's the weight, my lord king. The bearings in the casters aren't sufficient. They jam and seize when we try to rotate it for aiming purposes. It seemed to me that instead of tearing it down to recast the bearings, it would be simpler to levitate the polybolos like the skyships. That would make it very easy for the crew to rotate it."
"I can," Mar replied, "but I don't think that there's enough wood in this version to support the weight. The levitation magic, that is, the specific flux modulation -- the spell -- prefers wood to all other materials. Metals make particularly poor vessels for this sort of magic. You'll have to put it on a solid wood undercarriage. I also think that you'll need some sort of fixed pivot to keep the thing from sliding around when you fire."
The subaltern looked slightly deflated. "I suppose then that we'll have to break it down after all. But --"
One of the legionnaires, who had been idling atop the defensive wall, interrupted him. "Subaltern, there's something coming in from the south-west!"
"Man the polybolos!" Mhygaeus ordered, sending the workmen running for cover and the crew and Mar's guards scrambling to obey.
Mar grabbed Phehlahm's arm. "Alert Commander Aerlon!"
Without any further delay, Mar shot straight up in the air and moved out to face the possible attack. Expecting a force of Phaelle'n skyships, it took him a moment to detect the small, dark object flying slowing and unsteadily toward the Monolith. It was about a thousand armlengths out and looked nothing like the sleek flying craft that belonged to the Brotherhood. Accelerating, he flew out to see what it was. At twenty-five armlengths, he recognized the handiwork of his own flux modulations and identified the object as a fragment of the launch from the Prince Davfydd. It was a section of two scorched deck planks no more than a manheight long, held together by ruptured thwarts. Sprawled atop it and apparently guiding it was Grandmother Heldhaen.
As he drew near, he called out to her but she hardly stirred. Her clothing was blackened and her exposed skin blistered, either by the sun and wind or the fire that had destroyed the launch. Taking control of the wrack, he guided it gently back to the polybolos emplacement and lowered it and its insensate passenger to the pavement.
"Chaer, try to catch Phehlahm before he gets to Commander Aerlon," he called out as he descended. "E'hve, the rest of you, run back to the settlement and find Aunt Whelsi. She's visiting patients. Bring her back here as fast as you can. Subaltern Mhygaeus, I'll need some water."
Mar had to settle to the ground and required Mhygaeus' help to move the woman from her raft to an improvised pallet of jackets donated by the craftsmen and a canvas tarp that had covered the machine. One of the operating crew produced a canteen and one of the carpenters a small tin cup. Though she did not open her eyes, Mar managed to get her to take a few sips while the subaltern held up her shoulders and head. Her breathing hardly fluttered her shrunken frame.
As they crowded around, another of the workmen said, "That's Grandmother Heldhaen. Didn't she leave with Lord Ghorn? I wonder what happened?"
None of the others speculated an answer, but it was clear from their expressions that all of them suspected the worst.
As the wait for the witch lengthened, Mar began to despair her quick arrival and decided to try to delve the ether to help Heldhaen. Almost immediately, he abandoned his plan. He had never heard-seen the flux in a living person so weak and he feared that any adjustments he might make would simply dissipate its fading strength.
Eventually, Aunt Whelsi appeared, flushed and winded from running. Fugleman Pherlun, one the Hangers-On, had found and returned with her, carrying one of her satchels. She immediately knelt to examine Heldhaen, first taking her pulse at her throat, then rolling back one eyelid to examine the pupil. Finally, she took two smooth, reddish-brown polished stones from her satchel, held one in each hand, and hummed a single phrase with an irregular beat. After a moment, she looked over at Mar and shook her head.
"She doesn't have long. Did you know that she was eighty-two? She should never have gone off with Lord Ghorn."
"I need to ask her what happened. Can you wake her?"
The nurse pursed her lips. "I would advise against that. To me, it'd be a cruelty."
"We need to know and she's the only one that can tell us."
Aunt Whelsi awarded him a disapproving frown, but searched in her satchel and produced a small blue-glass bottle with a stone stopper wired in place. She upended it once, freed the stopper and held the stone cylinder under Heldhaen's nose. The old woman took a sharp breath, turned her head to the side away from the bottle, and moaned.
"Grandmother," Mar asked with some force, "can you understand me?"
Heldhaen's eyes flickered. "...must be dreaming...never make it back..."
"You're at the Monolith, Grandmother. What happened to the Prince Davfydd?"
"...gone...destroyed by magic...Gealkaei..."
"Everyone else was killed?"
"...Ghorn and...guards...were ashore..."
Then her breath went out with a long gentle sigh and it did not go back in. Her entire body relaxed.
Aunt Whelsi bent down to place an ear on the old woman's frail chest then raised up and shook her head. "Her heart's given out. I can only imagine what she went through to get here, but it took everything she had left."
Mar turned to Mhygaeus. "Subaltern, have messages carried as fast as possible. Tell Captain Mhiskva that I want to see him immediately. Inform Wloblh and the other magicians to ready their skyships. Call out all the marines and every legionnaire that the Monolith defense can spare. We're going south."
EIGHTEEN
When the flotilla arrived at Elboern, much of the town was burning.
Mar cursed. "Chaer! Tell the others to land and deploy their armsmen on the eastern side of town!"
Mar's unease had flared a warning a league away, and he had ordered all of the magician piloted skyships to release their tows -- the sail equipped galleys and barges, half-completed hulls, and rafts that carried the bulk of the Mhajhkaeirii'n and Khalarii'n armsmen, and prepare for action.
Standing ready with the signal flags, the freshly promoted ceannaire instantly flashed the message to the accompanying vessels, Five and Six to port and Seven and Eight to starboard, and they began to peal away with smooth efficiency and descend. Having clusters of modest houses intermingled with small farms, the outskirts of the town offered plenty of space to muster the legions and marine troops into their formations.
Mar had brought only the best pilots, Mrye, Srye, Ulor, and Wl
oblh, forward to scout the situation. The hastily completed Numbers Ten, renamed Grandmother and piloted by Trea, and Eleven, piloted by Ihlvoh, and the mostly completed Twelve and Thirteen, both piloted by cooperative teams of novice magicians, had not been able to keep up and Mar had ordered them to fall back.
"Phehlahm, pipe Stand to All Weapons!"
When Phehlahm's shrill notes began to screech, marines poured up from the lower deck, rushing to their positions on the upper deck and on the roof of the aft section. In a display of greater proficiency than might have been expected from the fact that the crews, more than half of which had been enlisted for less than a fortnight, had had only a few days of dry-fire practice, the operation to arm the polybolos proceeded without a hitch. In less than a moment, the armsmen ripped tarps from the pivot mounted machines, gingerly loaded hoppers, and swung aiming spikes about to line up with their designated quadrants. With tasks completed and forewarned that the skyship would maneuver abruptly in battle, all of them strapped themselves to seats or locked arms around supporting struts.
All of the completed skyships had at least one of the yet-to-be-battle-tested weapons. His skyship, Number Three, had six and was potentially the most powerful vessel in the flotilla.
He took a firm grip on a vertical strut in the forward bulwark, warned Chaer and Phehlahm to likewise brace themselves, and accelerated with an abrupt surge toward the swarm of Phaelle'n skyships that swirled above the old fort like angry hornets, continuously raining fire into the rubble of its shattered walls and collapsed tower.
The town itself was fully invested, with columns of Phaelle'n legionnaires moving inward through deserted, smoke shrouded streets toward the approaches to the fort. The fires had already burned broad swaths through the timber framed houses of the outer boroughs, though the stone villas and commercial buildings near the center of the town looked mostly whole and the grain silos and warehouses north of the guildhall plaza were untouched. From the looks of things, it appeared that the town's inhabitants had all sensibly fled ahead of the attack. He hoped that that was true, for any that had not were likely dead.
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