“Come and look,” he exclaimed, lifting Akaray down from behind Kirrah’s saddle with one massive hand. The four of them trooped through the din of the shop’s smoky interior to the back, where a pair of steel plate cylinders rested on timbers. “Are you sure this is the way to join them? It looks like, well, a mistake in the smithy,” the giant craftsman declared dubiously.
“That’s right,” said Kirrah. “The big one is like a kettle, and that tube connects it to the smaller one. When water boils in the big one, we call it a boiler, the steam will come through the tube, and push on the …wings inside the smaller pot, and make that axle turn. We call the smaller pot a turbine.” Actually, a three-stage turbine, which although not as efficient as a reciprocating piston steam engine, is a lot faster, operates at lower pressure, and requires fewer close-tolerance parts. We still have to invent the drill press and milling machine, but I am surprised and pleased to see your shop already has a primitive lathe.
“Well yes, Warmaster, we can see that the steam will come in here, and push there, and then escape out here… but why do you then capture the steam and put it back in the, the kettle? There is plenty of water in the sea, why not just add more fresh water?” Akaray’s head was up inside the hole in the turbine, looking curiously around. Peetha was watching with wordless interest.
“Good question, Wai’thago.” Ahhh, how do you say, ‘thermodynamic efficiency’? “If you keep putting in fresh water, it will be cold, and the fire will have to heat the water. But if you use water that is already almost as hot as steam, then it still has some of its force. Like working a piece of iron on your anvil, if the iron is kept hot, you can work it sooner.
“So, we capture the steam, and we cool it in that long tube with many bends, but just enough so it changes back to hot water. We call that tube the condenser, and when the steam turns back into water, it makes lots of room for more steam to come through the turbine past the wings. That box with the two gears, the pump I showed you, is how we force the water back into the boiler.”
“But why is the turbine at an angle like that? It looks, well, wrong.”
“That is so the propeller shaft will angle downward, and come out at the bottom of the boat, so the …wings, on the propeller will be in the water.”
“And you, Warmaster, not I, will be telling Maka’ra the shipwright that he has to make a hole in his hull, under the waterline?”
“Just so, Wai’thago’jasa. He is already preparing a second hull, just to test this device. How soon will this be completed?”
“If Kirrah Warmaster means, ready to test with a fire under the kettle, that should be in two more days. If all our joins and seals hold the first time. Plus time to transport this to the river, to test it.” Spoken just like a yard grunt on Trailway, thought Kirrah.
“We can test it here, Wai’thago, just build a water trough around the condenser. I want to see how well it performs, as soon as we can. The O’dai will become impatient if we do not prepare our surprise for them.” The big craftsman nodded thoughtfully.
“Now, since you are making such good progress, I thought you would like to see our next surprise. You know how the starthrower guild uses those steel-wrapped tubes to throw their pretty sparkles up into the sky? Well, I think if we make a tube of about the same size, and wrap it with heavier steel, or perhaps more layers wrapped in opposite directions, then it could throw something farther than the starthrower does. Also something heavier, I have some drawings here, see… like the grenade warheads you made for the archers, only bigger…”
That night, as Kirrah was tucking Akaray into his bed in the small room next to hers, he asked:
“Kirrah, why is Peetha so nice?”
“Nice? Why shouldn’t she be nice?”
“She is Wrth. She, her people, killed my mo… my family. My village. How can she do that, and be nice, too?” Silence followed. Then:
“Do you like Peetha?”
“I don’t know. Yes. My insides like her. Sometimes my outsides are afraid of her.”
“Mine too, Akaray. Most of her life, she was taught to do whatever she was told, and not to think about whether it hurt anyone. She is a skilled warrior. Now, she begins to think about things. It is hard for her too. She says so little about it. Do you think she likes you?”
“Yes, Kirrah.”
“If you feel unsafe, aska, tell me, or tell someone.” The boy’s tired face lit briefly at her use of the intimate form, ‘beloved’.
“But why do you feel safe with her, with all the Wrth you let into the city?” the boy persisted. “From the first day, you treated her as a friend.”
“I’m… I’m not sure I can explain it, aska. But I never had any doubts, not inside. I thought the most important thing to a Wrth was to be the best possible warrior, so that’s what I offered them, to make them stop fighting. When they stopped, and allowed themselves to be bound and delivered to my training area, I knew they were not surrendering because they feared death. I thought it was because they really wanted to learn from me. That is what Peetha told me, later. So, I decided to teach them, and learn from them, and watch closely, to see what happened. They have never done anything to make me sorry.”
Kirrah looked down to see his energy fading quickly. Lucky you, she thought, bending to kiss his forehead. I still have to finish the sketches for the mortar rounds. I think if we lay a fuse in a circular run in the base, and have a rotating plate with a hole over it, we can use the propellant burn to ignite the fuse and rotate the plate to get an adjustable delay… God, I’m tired.
Late the next morning, there was a summons from Lord Tsano. Kirrah, Irshe and Peetha hurried to the palace, to find the King’s Court already coming into session. Lord Tsano beckoned her to sit on the bench beside him, and five prisoners were brought in, chained and shackled. Two were Kirrah’s ‘students’, a Wrth man and woman; two were Talamae infantry recruits and one was a corporal in the regular militia. All were bruised and bloodied to some extent, none apparently seriously enough to keep them off their feet. One of the Wrth, the man, had a badly sliced scalp and ear, freshly bound up and still bleeding slightly under the bandages. At a nod from the King, the clerk rose and read the charges.
“Fighting, Lord. All five were apprehended fighting in the west stable beside the training field. This man.” indicating the Wrth, “is the most severely injured. The duty priest says all will recover.”
Kirrah listened with growing dismay to the unfolding story. According to the three Talamae, the Wrth had attacked them as they walked past the stables. The Wrth claimed, with translation through Peetha, that the two recruits and the corporal had cornered the woman, a girl about Peetha’s age, and then attacked the man when he happened by and came to her aid. A little questioning by Lord Tsano revealed that the knife found at the scene was standard militia issue, and appeared to belong to the corporal. There were no knife wounds on the Talamae, but plenty of bruises, deep scratches and several bite marks. In rebuttal, the Talamae claimed that the Wrth were enemies in any case, and no Talamae soldier should be penalized for harming them. I can form a pretty good picture, Kirrah thought, her jaw clenched. This must not be allowed. Lord Tsano turned to her.
“These are your soldiers to judge, Warmaster.”
“Yes, Lord Tsano. It is intolerable that fighting should happen between my soldiers. There are plenty of enemies waiting for us.” Two of the Talamae accused scowled at that. “What is more, I have given my word to these Wrth, that they are my warriors. These persons,” a contemptuous wave at the Talamae, “…have violated that word. Please tell us, Peetha, what is the penalty among the Wrth, for this error?” The young woman rose, warrior’s outrage and dignity wrapped around her like a mantle.
“Death, Warmaster, hung head down over a fire, for one who treads on the word of the war-leader.” The accused corporal barked a single short laugh, choked off as he noticed Kirrah’s face. Peetha continued: “And for fighting among warriors, banishment, or loss of two fingers
. If they are worthy otherwise, the accused may choose one of the fingers.” Both Wrth reflexively curled up their hands as she pronounced this.
“And are these accused Wrth ‘otherwise worthy’?”
“Yes, Warmaster. Before today, both have been commendable.”
“Peetha, you are their commanding officer. I ask, do you believe they are guilty of fighting among warriors?”
“Yes, Warmaster. I will be pleased to apply the punishment.” At that, both accused Wrth stood straighter, looked straight ahead.
“Thank you, Peetha, I shall decide punishment, I asked your opinion about their guilt.”
“My apologies, Warmaster, I failed to understand your intent,” the young Wrth said, blushing deeply under her tan.
“No apology necessary, Peetha, I did not declare my intent. But I do have one other question. Is it not true that as Wrth, before entering my service, you looked upon the Talamae farmers as ‘earthgrubbers’?”
“Yes, Warmaster.” Another blush, not as deep.
“Tell them this is my judgement. I have proof that they were fighting. I suspect they were provoked, but of that, I have no proof. If this happens again, to any of my student-warriors, I want them to call out and bring others, and avoid fighting unless their lives are at immediate threat.” Kirrah waited as the translation was delivered.
“Their punishment is this. They shall remain my students. They shall cease to be warriors. Starting tomorrow, each shall work in the fields as servants to a Talamae woman who is planting. They shall do whatever they are told. If they harm another, their lives are forfeit. If I receive a good report from their masters in seven days, I will accept them as warriors again. Otherwise, they remain until their earth-grubber masters are pleased with their work.” Kirrah waited for the translation again. As each sentence fell, the Wrth became paler, their eyes wider. The two accused Talamae recruits sniggered at one another.
“One more thing. They shall sleep in the tents with my other students, who shall be told of my judgement. None shall speak ill of them, all shall learn from them.” From their stricken looks, they both preferred Peetha’s punishment to Kirrah’s.
Good, now for the hard part. Kirrah turned to the Talamae accused, who were looking rather cocky at what they obviously perceived to be a light punishment.
“Lord Tsano, what is the Talamae soldiers’ usual penalty for fighting their fellows?”
“Kirrah Warmaster, if blood is drawn, flogging. If the disruption endangers the realm, or other soldiers in combat, then death.”
“Thank you, Lord Tsano. I do in fact find that these three have endangered the Realm. If my word is broken, other enemies will not trust my offer of service as these Wrth have. Guards, bring them into the courtyard.” Kirrah rose and strode down the length of the courtroom, out the door and into the brilliant afternoon sun. The eyes of the accused followed her in shocked disbelief. Commotion broke out behind her as the guards wrestled the three into submission and dragged them, struggling, through the door. A rough circle formed around Kirrah in the courtyard, the three accused Talamae before her. She spoke to the guards:
“The dakka'tachk first. Place him there. Kneel! Man, if you do not kneel, these guards will break your legs. Kneel!” Sweating, spluttering with fear and weeping with indignation, the corporal fell to his knees on the stone paving.
“Bring me ashes. Yesterday’s torch will do, anything. And bring my Wrth student-farmers, they shall see my judgement on these.” There was a brief hiatus as the court clerk scurried to fulfill her demands. The guards, Peetha, Irshe, Lord Tsano, the other court functionaries, stood in a semicircle around the bizarre tableau, awaiting the outcome. A few other palace workers passing by paused, and heads appeared at some of the adjacent windows. In a moment the clerk returned bearing a drinking mug half full of black and gray powder.
“Good, place the ashes before this man. Kath’shai-dakka'tachk, listen to me. I have done something no other Warmaster has ever done. I have made allies out of attacking Wrth. Your actions have put at risk my word to these allies, and thus endangered my chance to repeat this feat. As surely as though you opened the city gates at night, this imperils your Realm, your city, and your own worthless life. Since you value them so little, you will now, before these citizens, chant Deathnaming for all three.” The man stared at her dumbly. One of Lord Tsano’s eyebrows rose, just slightly. Kirrah’s voice went flat and deadly:
“Kath’shai-dakka'tachk. You will carry out my judgement, immediately, or I will turn you over to my Wrth warriors for theirs.” The man somehow managed to go even paler than he had been. “You have trodden on your Warmaster’s word. This shall not stand! Choose.” The man’s throat clenched, unclenched. He looked at the ring of stony faces around him. The two Wrth prisoners were looking on with what looked to Kirrah like a clinical, professional interest. Both the accused recruits were sweating, eyes wide, standing as far as their chains allowed from the unfortunate corporal. The chains held his wrists out at his sides.
“Perhaps the Dakka'tachk has forgotten. Guards, show him the first position.” Two guards forced the corporal’s palms out and upward. Kirrah waited.
“Ayy… ya…” the man choked out. He fell silent.
“Peetha. Go to the training field, bring twenty of my student-warriors, and the means to build a fire, and anything else needful to cleanse my word. If they arrive before this man’s Deathnaming is done, he is yours.”
“Yes, Warmaster,” Peetha said enthusiastically, and set off at a trot. As her footsteps faded, the courtyard fell into utter silence.
“Ayy… yaaa…” he said again. Kirrah squatted before him on her heels, cocked her head on one side, and watched. He coughed.
“Ay’ya… lua… tha!” With the first phrase, something seemed to break open in the man.
“Ayy… yah… luaa… Tal… Tal… am… shuah.” A few sharp intakes of breath around the circle. No one, Kirrah realized, had ever heard this death-chant sung before. More people were gathering in a circle, silently watching. One of the guards was looking away. Most seemed transfixed as though the man were being disemboweled before them.
“Ayyyy… yahhh… luaa…Talameths’cha… shuah!” Another, deeper gasp from the crowd. The man was shaking and sobbing openly now, arms raised, head slumped.
“Ayyyy… yahhh… luaaaa… Kath’shai… shuahsha…” His hands met over his head, then he collapsed, hanging by his chained wrists. One of the recruits was kneeling, the other was shaking so badly it was a wonder he could stand.
“The ashes. You must kiss the ashes.” Kirrah stood, pitiless, as the act was completed, and then heard the Deathnaming chants one after the other from the two recruits. The second man was almost indecently hasty about it - as he finished, quick footsteps announced the arrival of the Wrth detail she had sent for. Three very pale Talamae knelt on the stone courtyard.
“This day, you men have become as dead. I claim your lives in the service of this Realm and this City. You shall serve as one of my student-warriors, you shall live with them, eat with them, train with them, fight alongside them. Peetha shall be your commanding officer. Your service will end at my pleasure. My judgement is done.”
At Lord Tsano’s beckon, Kirrah followed him into his private office. Oh-oh, she thought, I hope I didn’t step into the mu’uthn -poop with that performance… he looks awfully stern, no, he’s smiling, no, he’s trying to look stern…
“Ah, Lord Tsano, I hope… what I did then…”
“Warmaster,” the big man said as he sat behind his desk, “That was the most inventive punishment, I think I have ever seen. You judged them guilty of a capital crime, and then you made them declare their lives and citizenship dead. In effect, you took their lives, yet they live and serve. I am as amazed as I was when the Wrth surrendered.”
“Then you are not displeased?”
“I am very pleased with your judgement. I am even more pleased, that you are on our side.”
“Two lives bal
anced, Lord.”
“Yes. Yes indeed. I asked you here after the judgement, to hear the report I received. Your scouts have found the Wrth forces. As you suspected, they have not returned to their homeland. They have assembled at the mouth of the River Geera where it empties into the Sea of the Sun. With them were gathered at least six of the O’dai excise ships, and two other ships with the extra tower between its masts. None was moving. This was seen two days ago and reported this morning.” Kirrah felt suddenly cold, and not just from reaction to the scene in the courtyard.
“As I feared, Lord. My ship-weapons are not yet ready to go against the O’dai ships. We will be forced to defend the city when they arrive. I shall send more scouts to report on their progress. When they are within a half day’s march, we shall test them. The river is narrow enough that they cannot escape the range of our grenades and fire-arrows. Unless the Wrth ride with them… we shall send a patrol down both sides of the river, just in case. I think the Wrth could not cross the river fast enough to interfere with my grenadiers on the south shore.” Kirrah rose and moved toward the door, but paused as Lord Tsano raised one big hand and asked:
“I know my Warmaster has much to prepare, but I must ask one question. If that idiot Dakka'tachk had not sung Deathnaming as you demanded, would you have given him to your Wrth?”
“Yes, Lord. By then, I had no choices left. I really, really hoped they’d do what I demanded. It was the only way I could think of, to save their lives.” Leaving the big ex-blacksmith gazing speculatively at her from behind his royal desk, Kirrah made her exit.
Chapter 23 (Landing plus sixty-two): Cruising
“When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite.” - Sir Winston Churchill, op.cit.
Kirrah spent the next two days visiting the various projects she had initiated. The steam turbine was turning out to be even more difficult than she had expected, mostly because of problems making good seals to hold in the steam pressure, at the few required openings such as where the rotating shaft exited the turbine housing. The mortar tubes were working, but the projectiles were a different problem. The first version had a nasty tendency to explode in its tube when fired. The ‘fixed’ version simply shattered on impact without exploding. More research into fusing technology was clearly indicated.
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