by John Ringo
“The man is incorrigible,” the Demon replied. “But he does train good subordinates. I have always found that choice of subordinates is important in any endeavor. The Council, for all its strengths, has been a group that had little in the way, or need, of subordinates, so it is not surprising that you have less… experience with the handling of them. In that regard,” he continued, gesturing in the air as another avatar appeared, “might I commend the services of my protégé, Brother Conner.”
“You do me great honor in the term, lord,” the man said. He was tall but apparently entirely unChanged with a lean, ascetic look and less than his first century in age. Dark hair fell to midshoulder length. He was almost normal until you looked at his eyes, the irises of which were almost perfectly white. His pupils were tiny black dots in the middle of them.
“You are too kind, Lord Demon,” Chansa said after a moment. “But I’m not sure what to do with him.”
“I would suggest that you do what you do best, prepare the armies of New Destiny for the invasion,” the Demon replied acerbically. “And let Conner handle the destabilization. He has… experience in these matters.”
“Ah.” Chansa paused again, then shrugged. Favors from the Demon generally had a hidden cost, but they also weren’t to be turned aside. “Thank you, Lord Demon.”
“I’ll be leaving you two to your work,” the Demon replied, fading out of the air. “Have fun.”
* * *
“Paul is preparing a fleet on the coast of Ropasa,” Edmund said, pulling out a map and setting it on his desk. “Here in Brethan and in Neterlan. And he’s assembling armies of Changed near both areas.”
“Invasion?” Herzer asked.
“That’s the apparent intent,” the duke replied. “And it’s borderline that he could be successful.”
“At an invasion?” Daneh said. “How? He’s got to cross the whole Atlantis ocean and then attack a prepared enemy. I’m not much on the military end, but that doesn’t sound feasible to me.”
“We don’t have much in the way of troops, Daneh,” Edmund replied with a shrug. “There’s unorganized and organized militia, yes, but they’re not going to count for much but positional defense. You can’t even really use them for sallies. And the ‘positions’ that most of the towns have aren’t much. And you’d be surprised how many over the beach invasions have been successful. If the country was castellated, that is if we had lots and lots of castles as Ropasa does, it would be impossible. As it is, it’s just very risky.
“One of the ways to play a war like this is deterrence. That is, make it clearly so impossible for something to happen that nobody in their right minds would try it. And hope that your enemy is in their right mind. In this case, we have to eliminate any chance of such an invasion succeeding. To do that, we have to control the sea-lanes.
“We’re working on that on the coast. The Navy has been working on a new class of warship that should make things very unpleasant for anyone attempting to cross. But a few warships, probably in the wrong place, aren’t going to deter New Destiny. Nor should they.
“What we need are allies that control the sea-lanes.” He looked up significantly at Daneh, who shrugged.
“I think that’s supposed to mean something, but I have no idea what.”
“The mer,” Herzer interjected. “Weren’t they reported as concentrating, post-Fall, down in the Southern Isles?”
“Exactly,” the Duke said. “If we have the mer on our side, between them and the delphinos, who are going to follow their lead, and the dolphins they have attached to them, at the very least we have total reconnaissance of the potential invasion fleet. Fighting it might be another matter, but I’d be surprised if they couldn’t do something along those lines too.”
“So it’s a diplomatic mission?” Herzer asked. “Why you? Why me for that matter?”
“It’s a diplomatic mission with military implications,” Edmund said. “I’m the best known, I almost said ‘notorious,’ person available on the East Coast and I’m probably going to be one of the point generals for any defense.”
“You’re probably going to command the defense,” Daneh corrected.
“Probably. And Herzer for some similar reasons.”
“So what this means is that while the rest of us suffer through the winter,” Rachel said, somewhat bitterly, “you’re going to go gallivanting down to the Southern Isles?”
“Sheida wants me to go handle the negotiations. She told me I could take whatever staff I thought was necessary. What I consider necessary is Herzer.”
“So you are leaving us behind and sailing off to the Isles for the winter,” Daneh said humorously.
“Well, maybe,” Edmund replied, in a much more serious tone. “Herzer is a damn fine junior officer, but there’s nothing absolutely vital he has to do here. Between Kane and Gunny the town should be good against anything but a major attack. And I know what’s out there well enough to know that isn’t going to happen short of invasion. So I can leave the town and be pretty sure it will be here when I get back. The question is, can the town do without both of its doctors?”
“I’m not a doctor,” Rachel replied, but she nodded. “But I see what you mean.”
“Say that you’re the best of the trainees, then,” Edmund admitted. “There are reasons that I want to take one or both of you along. Frankly, I’d prefer Daneh. But I don’t think it wise to take both unless we can make provisions for adequate medical care here.”
“Well, how long is this going to take?” Daneh asked. “I mean the negotiations. Port down, port back and a week or two there.”
“One problem,” Edmund grimaced. “Sheida says that it’s important, but not important enough to port us. She’s working on some sort of device that will reduce porting power drain; she has an experimental one up and running so she can get in and out of her house. But even that will be point to point. In the meantime, we’re still down to the speed of horse and wind.”
“How long?” Daneh repeated.
“A month? Two? Possibly more if the weather turns against us.”
“I know my responsibilities,” Daneh sighed. “And there’s Charles to consider; I’m not sure I want to be away from him for that long. I’ll stay.” Daneh’s son had been born as the result of her rape, shortly after the Fall, by Dionys McCanoc and his men. When the child was born it was clear who had bestowed the male genes. Just as clear as the fact that the father was no longer living. Herzer rather liked the kid who, except for a tendency for mischief, appeared to have gotten nothing but his looks from his father.
“I want you to consider carefully what I said,” Edmund replied. “I would prefer you to go and Rachel to stay. Including taking you away from Charles.”
“Why?” Daneh asked and was rewarded with a blank stare. “Edmund, quit being mysterious.”
“I’m not being mysterious. I have my reasons and I have reasons not to give them.”
“That’s just Edmund’s way of saying ‘I’m being mysterious,’ ” Daneh said with a chuckle.
“I’ll give you one that’s up front,” Talbot replied after a moment. “We want an alliance with them, a military alliance certainly and a trade agreement by preference. We need to know what they need, that we can supply, for that to happen. I won’t say that I want you to go talk with the women while I do the ‘men talk’…”
“Good!” Daneh said with a smile.
“… But I will say that we have different strengths and areas of knowledge. I’d take Myron if I thought agriculture was going to be important, but I think that areas having to do with… lifestyle are going to be far more so.”
“I’m a doctor, not an anthropologist,” Daneh said. “For that matter Rachel has a firmer grasp on preindustrial cultures.”
“You have a point. But I trust your judgment more than Rachel’s.” He turned to his daughter and shrugged. “That wasn’t meant to be offensive, it’s just Daneh is…”
“Older and wiser?” Rachel said,
then shook her head. “I’m really not offended, because I understood what you meant.”
“I can turn over control of the local power system to Emily,” Daneh suggested. “She’s up to just about anything that Rachel would be. And I assume that if something major comes up, we can consult. She’s certainly up to deliveries and small repairs. Dr. Beauharnois is up in Hotrum’s Ferry if something serious occurs.”
Talbot thought about it for a moment then shrugged. “I guess you’re in, Rachel.”
“When do we leave?” Herzer asked.
“Not for at least a week or two,” Edmund said. “I didn’t think you’d make it back this fast and it’s going to take at least that long for the rest of our party to get here.”
“And who is that?” Daneh asked.
“You’ll see,” Edmund replied. “It’s a surprise.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Joel was surprised to see Harry practically hovering outside Sheida’s office.
Sheida used what had once been her mountain home as her central headquarters. Since she often hosted parties and other functions it had been large enough to support the minimal staff that she needed.
But since it was now surrounded by bubbling lava, getting anything in and out required porting, which was extremely high in energy use.
The answer, as he had discovered on his way in, was a permanent portal. Step through the arch and you were suddenly “elsewhere.” He wasn’t sure what the energy level to the portal was, but it couldn’t be high; he had been only one of a dozen or so people who had passed through it while he was there.
Instead of heading for the portal, Harry waved him in another direction. Joel noted that he had a slight limp.
“I’ve set up your transportation,” the aide said, leading him to a small office. It had, apparently, once been a bedroom. There were now three desks in the room, along with boxes of paperwork. There were no external windows so it smelled dank and musty.
Harry pulled out a sheaf of papers and a small bag that clinked when he set it down.
“Gold has, again, become the international currency,” Harry said with a sarcastic smile. “Make sure you’re not set upon by ruffians.”
“I’ll try,” Joel replied, smiling amiably. He opened up the pouch and dumped it out. “I take it I sign for this?”
“And we’ll need expense records,” Harry replied. “Did you know Sheida before the Fall?”
“Yes, we were acquaintances,” Joel said, piling up the square chunks of gold. “I’d studied the history of management and business before the Fall. She wants me to look at logistics at Washan and other facilities along the East Coast.”
“Mind you don’t step on Edmund’s toes,” Harry replied. He slapped his thigh and grimaced. “He gave me this.”
“The limp?” Joel asked. He pulled over the receipt and signed it, apparently without reading it. In fact he’d read it upside down while the aide was holding it and while the total was close it wasn’t exactly the same. He’d just signed for a chunk of gold, the equivalent of two months wages for a field hand, that wasn’t there.
“Happened right after the Fall,” Harry said. “Drove a sword through my mail and tore a hole right into my thigh. He always said that the only way to fight was to intend to kill the other person; I never thought he was serious until then.”
“Didn’t he know what would happen?” Joel asked, widening his eyes in horror. “And haven’t you gotten it fixed? I mean, power is short, but…”
“Well… we didn’t know the fields were down,” Harry admitted. “And, yes, Sheida fixed it. But it’s still not quite right.”
Nannites either fixed something or they didn’t, at least when it came to gross tissue damage. They didn’t just stitch things back together but reformed them to the cellular level. Which meant that any remnant injury was psychosomatic.
“I’ll try not to get my legs chopped out from under me,” the inspector said. “How am I getting back?”
“Sheida wants you to fly on a wyvern that’s headed that way,” Harry said, looking at him oddly. “Apparently she’s really worried about this logistics problem.”
“Just a good use of resources.” Joel shrugged. “How do I find this wyvern?”
“Not worried about riding on one?” Harry asked, frowning slightly.
“Looking forward to it, actually,” Joel smiled. “Better than the coaches.”
“Well… take the portal then ask around for Robert Scott, he’s the travel coordinator. He’ll know where you’re supposed to go.” Harry stood up and offered his hand. “Good luck.”
“Same to you,” Joel replied. “I’m sure we’ll be meeting again.”
“Oh?”
“Sure, the logistical issues around here are just amazing.”
* * *
“There are several issues that I’d prefer to set aside,” Chansa said, looking over at his new assistant. “They’re taking up my time and energy; time and energy I need to devote to the invasion plans.”
“Understood,” Conner said. He had a very old-fashioned writing stylus and pad of paper and nodded as he took notes.
“The two aspects that are taking up most of my time at the moment, though, are trying to establish a political climate for our eventual invasion and a mission by Edmund Talbot to gain an alliance with the mer.”
“We have pods of orca that are allied with us,” Conner said. “Surely they can deal with the mer.”
“The mer and the delphinos have a long-term friendship,” Chansa said. “The delphinos, in turn, are well thought of by those few idiots that have turned themselves into true whales. And the latter travel throughout the oceans. Between those groups they will know, to a minute, where our ships are. It’s important that they are neutralized. And I mean totally neutralized; either on our side or unable to affect us. The invasion fleet is going to be on the ragged edge of possibility as it is. The mer have to be taken out of the equation.”
“I see,” the agent said, apparently doodling. “Where are the mer at this time and what assets do we have in place? For that matter, I’ll need access to power for communications and a budget, not to mention updated intelligence.”
“I can give you everything except the power,” Chansa said. “Since that idiot McCanoc got himself killed, that’s been in short supply; even we council members are limited.”
“Well, it will be quite impossible to perform my job without power, my lord,” the agent said, closing the pad. “And there are other things. To get to the mer will require ships. I’ll need soldiers as well as contacts with the orca. And the way that I work, my lord, is that you tell me what needs to be done and I do it. My own way.”
“That’s pretty damned impertinent,” Chansa said, flexing his jaw.
“I’m sorry if you feel that way, my lord,” the agent said. “But that’s the way that I work.”
“Why don’t you get your power from the Demon?” Chansa temporized.
“I don’t work for Milord Demon, sir,” the agent said with a sincere smile. “I work for you. Asking him for power would be impertinence. And he can be so direct about such things.”
Chansa chuckled and nodded.
“I’ll get you a list of what’s available. Find yourself an office; there’s all sorts in this warren. Give me a list, a reasonable list, from that. And besides the orcas, I’ve talked to Celine and we have some special assistants for you. After that you’re on your own. You’d better be worth it.”
“I’m sure that I’ll be worthy of the trust you place in me, my lord,” Conner said.
“I’m not,” Chansa replied. “Now get.”
* * *
The one problem with the portal was that you couldn’t see who was on the far side; it was simply a shimmering wall of opalescent light. As Joel approached it he wondered who all the people going in and out of the house were and, for that matter, how they were cleared for entry. As far as he could see, anyone who reached the town could use the portal to penetrate Sheida
’s innermost sanctum. He was sure there was security on the passage, but what and how had not been discussed.
There was a short line waiting to pass through and he joined it, nodding at the woman in front of him.
“You’re new,” the slightly built woman said. She was barely up to Joel’s chest in height.
“Just passing through,” Joel replied. “I had a meeting with Harry about improving the logistics.”
“Not much to be done with just the one entry,” the woman sniffed. “Getting fresh food in and out is real bother.”
“You’re a cook?” he asked, automatically fishing for information.
“For Herself,” the woman replied with a note of pride. “I’m on my way out to have a word with the butcher. The last load of meat was simply dreadful. Not that Herself eats much, she eats like a bird to tell truth, it’s really terrible. I try to get her to eat more but even my best pastries she barely nibbles. It’s a real shame.”
“Do you cook for the rest of the complex?” Joel asked as the line moved forward.
“I’m one of the cooks, but I’m mainly to supply Herself,” the woman said. “Sometimes when she has a big meeting I’ll take charge of that. There’s a head ‘chef’ but he’s such a pain, a real prima donna if you know what I mean.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But when they do have a big party it’s a real pain. First getting everything through on portal and then getting all the guests in and out. You have no idea how much food it takes for a big party, oh, but I guess you do if you handle logistics?”
“Rather large parties, yes,” Joel said with an amiable grin. “But I just do paperwork, you know. I don’t have to do the cooking.”
“Well, you have no idea. I mean, at least we have a decent kitchen but it’s still too small and the stoves could use a good upgrade. Fortunately I’d made a study of real cooking before the Fall. None of this three sprigs of over-spiced carrot and a piece of chicken the size of your thumb, no sirree…”