Part 38 (2/2)

”Only a matter of time before weight of numbers tells.”

Varthlokkur took it up. ”Megelin learned from the best. But he's losing. Three battles last week, all to inferior forces. This angelic general is superhuman.”

”And?”

”Two points. What happens if Megelin loses? Another round of El Murid wars? The man is old and fat and crazier than ever. He'll want to get even with everybody who helped Haroun. Second point. The general calls himself Badalamen.”

”Badalamen? Never heard of him.”

”You have. In a divination, remember? So cloudy, but the name came through as dangerous....”

”Yeah. Now I remember.”

”We've reasoned thus: Badalamen was furnished by O s.h.i.+ng, to reverse El Murid's fortunes because s.h.i.+nsan isn't ready to move. This business with Argon was probably geared to an attack next summer. But we've wrecked that.

”Oh. I heard about your fight with the Tervola. He's still here. With the Fadema. Haaken gave me the mask. I didn't recognize it. It does look a lot like Chin's. He might have changed it after Baxendala. If it is Chin, he's as dangerous as Tervola come. We'd save a lot of grief by killing him. But to the matter in Hammad al Nakir.

”It's my guess that your reaction has been more effective than O s.h.i.+ng expected.

And there's Radeachar. So he's put this Badalamen in to threaten your flank.”

”He another Tervola?”

”No. Marco says he's pretty ordinary. You've seen the eastern martial arts artists? The way they use an opponent's strengths against him? That's the way Badalamen operates.

”I don't think he's human at all. Nu Li Hsi and Yo Hsi both tried to breed superhuman soldiers. O s.h.i.+ng was the result of one experiment. I'd guess Radeachar is another. I doubt the work stopped with the pa.s.sing of the Princes Thaumaturge.”

Ragnarson pursed his lips, sucked air across his teeth. ”There's not a lot we can do about it, is there?”

”No. I just wanted you to know. I'd say it makes it imperative that we kill the Tervola here. He's bound to be one of O s.h.i.+ng's top men.”

”And the Fadema,” Ragnarson added. ”Whoever takes over might think twice about being s.h.i.+nsan's stalking horse.”

”Marco went to Necremnos, too,” VisiG.o.dred said. ”Ptho-thor has gathered an army.

But he's in no hurry to get here. Waiting to hear how we did. Doesn't want to throw live men after dead.””Can't blame him. Well, I'd better tell Haaken we've got to get that tower.”

Having admonished Ragnar again, Bragi departed. Zindah-jira resumed fulminating in the stacks. Bragi chuckled. Someday he'd have to find out what had started that.

The Fadema stubbornly refused to surrender. Days pa.s.sed. The impa.s.se persisted.

Ragnarson worried.

The city garrisons recovered. Troops from out of town reinforced them. Ragnarson had to lock his force into the Fadem. His men stayed busy defending its walls. He expected a major a.s.sault.

There could be no escape, now, without victory. And that appeared to be slipping away -unless Necremnos came.

The first week ended. Except for the Queen's stronghold, the Fadem was his.

Outside, the Argonese seemed content to wait, to starve him out. Their probes he beat back with heavy losses. Necremnos was moving, but slowly, willing to let Kavelin do the heavy dying.

The stalemate persisted, though Ragnarson didn't sit still. His engineers worked round the clock to tunnel into the Queen's tower. He battered its walls with captured engines. He tried sending Marena Dimura up its wall by night.

The sappers completed the tunnels the last day of the second week.

Ragnarson chose his a.s.sault teams carefully. Haaken and Reskird each led one, and he took the third. Ahring mounted a vicious diversion outside.

The bailey was a cylindrical tower with thick walls and little room inside. The easiest entry, once the single door had been sealed, was over the top-almost a hundred feet above the encircling street.

Unless one penetrated its bas.e.m.e.nts. An obvious and antici-

pated tactic. The defenders would be waiting. It would be rough.

Bragi didn't doubt the outcome. His concern was keeping costs down.

His engineers tested to see if the bas.e.m.e.nts had been flooded. They hadn't. Some other greeting waited.

Bragi expected fire.

It didn't materialize. Again, Argon's initial lack of readiness told.

It was a savage melee, fought through dim pa.s.sages and narrow doors, Ragnarson's men advancing by sheer ma.s.s. The defenders remained stubborn despite the hopelessness of their situation.

It went floor by floor, hour by hour.

”Why the h.e.l.l don't she give up?” Bragi asked Kildragon. ”She's just wasting lives.”

”Some people keep hoping.”

”Marshall! We're at the top.”

”Okay! Reskird, Haaken, this's it. Send for Varthlokkur.”

The wizard appeared immediately. Ragnarson and his friends forced themselves into the Fadema's last redoubt.She had but two soldiers left. Both were wounded, but remained feisty.

And the Tervola was there. Ethrian, bound and gagged, stood behind him.

”My Lord Chin,” said Varthlokkur. ”It's been a while.”

Chin bowed slightly. ”Welcome to Argon, old pupil. You learned well. Someday you'll have to teach me the secret of the Unborn.”

”I have no taste for teaching. Is there anything you'd care to tell us, My Lord?

So we can avoid the rough parts?”

”No. I think not.” Chin glanced at an hourgla.s.s. He didn't seem worried.

Ragnarson grew wary. These people always had something up their sleeves....

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