Part 3 (1/2)
”I have your proposal,” the Ton of Condor Hall responded firmly. ”I shall consider it in my own time. I am the one facing war. You are risking your gold, some of your gold. It is my life and my lands that I would be chancing. In the meantime, I will have the gold you promised to test to confirm that it is genuine.”
”If you will have gold, we shall have payment. Your arms...”
I Yoroc's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. ”Our arms and the arms of our escort, we keep. However, that carrion is of no further use to us. You want blood. Take the three of them as your payment. I shall come again soon if I decide that we have more to say to one another.”
6.
MURDOCK'S HEART WAS hammering wildly, although his will was strong enough to insure that his agitation did not become apparent to those around him.
This was not their first such meeting. His party had traveled the length of the island from its southernmost tip where they had landed, carrying warning of the danger overshadowing them to those Tons of each region whom their studies had named as leaders of the confederation whose success they were striving to promote.
They had met with a good measure of success, for their story was strong and the evidence they had brought to corroborate it had been expertly prepared. The various domains would see to their arms and supplies, and their rulers would meet to discuss the possibility of uniting to combat Zanthor I Yoroc should he prove the threat these strangers claimed. In so far, the timing of their organization had been advanced by crucial months, but no army would actually a.s.semble, much less move north, not at this stage. Not one of the southern rulers could be that powerfully convinced of the reality of the hordes of mercenaries that would all too soon be marching against them.
Once again, Gordon Ashe had delivered his news and was facing the same battery of arguments, but this time, success, or the greatest possible success, was essential. They were sitting in Sapphirehold's great hall, and facing them was Ton Luroc I Loran and his chief military and civil staff. Fail here, and they had blown the whole.
”I do not hesitate to believe the darkness you impute to the Ton of Condor Hall, Healer O Ashean,” Luroc said slowly, almost more to himself than to his guest. ”I am not alone in thinking him no true son of Life's Queen, but that he represents such utter peril, that I cannot accept. Good though his domain might be in comparison with the rest here in the north, it still could not support so great a host of hired swords as you describe.”
Ross felt the sour taste of defeat rise inside him. The meeting was going the way of all the others, and they would gain no more from it than the Ton's promise to stay on the alert himself and put his domain's garrison on the alert. That might be enough for the time being in the south, but here, they required a more concrete response. Without Luroc's full belief and support behind them, they could not begin to do what had to be done in order to preserve the domain as a fighting force and, through it, to preserve Dominion of Virgin.
d.a.m.n it to every version of h.e.l.l he had ever heard described, what was the matter with these people? They had no trouble imagining that one of their kind could seriously consider annexing their lands by force of arms, but to a one, they could not bring themselves to believe that he could secure the means to carry his plans to fruition. By the time Zanthor taught them otherwise, it would be too late for everyone except the would-be conqueror himself.
His eyes burned in his impatience. ”You're wrong, Ton,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the speakers. ”Condor Hall can hire mercenaries and has hired them, and they'll stay long enough to fulfill its ruler's aim if we don't move at once to thwart him. It'll be too late to do that in even a few more weeks.”
Murdock knew he had breached custom in addressing the Ton and the company a.s.sembled with him. Men and the few women who made a career of war for any purpose except to secure the safety of their native domains were not held in high regard, however quickly their talents were sought when reason dictated that they could be of good service. A mercenary did not inject his presence into a conference such as this unbidden, whatever his rank among his own kind. Eveleen and he would not even have been present had their testimony not been required.
The others there, including his own comrades, looked sharply at him, some in annoyance, all in surprise.
Ross set his hands on the table before him. He had begun. Now it was up to him to state his case well. He would have one chance, or part of a chance, and nothing more. ”I'm a man of war, Ton I Loran, not a manager of lands,” he went on quickly, while he still had the a.s.sembly's attention. ”Columns, not mere companies, would serve Condor Hall for a short span, or longer if their troops were granted the rape of his first, easy conquests and their commanders promised rich domains in the south, to be held in loyalty to Zanthor, as part of their service contract. There's probably not one of us of any significant rank who doesn't occasionally dream of winning such a holding, however slight the chance of that's ever happening might be in fact. There're men in plenty who'll fight for its lure, a.s.suming reasonable interim recompense as well.”
The Ton's expression was dark as he studied the supposed warrior, but it was with concern rather than anger. ”If that be so,” he said at last, ”what purpose was there in your coming to us? What can a few hundred soldiers accomplish against so many, or this joining of the southern domains, for that matter, if Zanthor I Yoroc can draw on virtually limitless hosts to support him?”
Ross Murdock smiled. ”Not limitless, Ton. The column Commandants will serve long-term solely for the promise of land. There are only a finite number of domains, north or south, and Zanthor won't want to parcel so many of them out, away from his direct control, that he, in effect, would only be trading one set of rulers for another.
”No, you can't meet him in a straight fight. I don't think the whole north could even if there was time enough to ready yourselves. It's the Confederacy that has to beat him. Sapphirehold's business is to buy Ton I Carlroc time, and to preserve our own hides while we're doing it.”
Luroc's heavy brows raised. ”Preserve our hides?” he echoed.
The Time Agent shrugged. ”It's my plan, Ton I Loran, the only one my companions and I believe has any chance of success. It requires a different kind of fighting, one that must involve all your people. If you're willing to give it a try, I offer my services to conduct it, or at least to prepare your folk for it.”
The other said nothing for several long seconds. ”What is your name, man of war?” he asked at the end of that time.
The Terran released the breath he had been holding, taking care not to betray the extent of his relief. In asking that he identify himself, the Dominionite ruler was giving him leave to enter into serious discussion on an equal's footing, thus permitting genuine give and take and open argument if necessary. ”Rossin A Murdoc, Ton. A Captain of mercenaries.”
”This plan of yours, Captain?”
Ross described the partisan war he envisioned and the preparations the domain would have to make for it to succeed.
He was greeted by dark scowls when he finished speaking. ”You would have us cower in the hills like wardwolves, surrender our homes and fields without a struggle at all?” demanded a young man, very handsome by the flat-faced standard of his race. He was clad in the plain uniform of the domain's garrison, and a Lieutenant's stripe ran diagonally across his breast.
”I'd have you fight so you can win. It'll be a costly war no matter what you do. Conduct it as I describe, and you'll at least have a chance. You'll also more than triple your force, since all the able-bodied population can be trained to wage it.”
”As for your dwellings and fields, you couldn't hold them anyway. Accept that they're gone until Zanthor's defeated, establish others in secret, and put the old ones to the torch when you must to deny Condor Hall's forces the use of them.”
”That's easy enough for a landless, homeless man to say,” the other snapped hotly.
”Easy or hard, I'm only stating fact. The loss is inevitable. It's up to you to decide whether it will work to your enemy's benefit or against him.”
”Be still, Allran,” Luroc commanded, silencing the reply the young officer would have made. ”You offer to lead us, Captain A Murdoc. Are you capable of doing so? A man needs two sound hands to fight and at the same time control his mount.”
The Time Agent started, for a moment at a loss as to the other's meaning. His eyes dropped to his hands then, where they lay clearly exposed on the table, to the left with its terrible ridging of scar tissue. Among people of this technical level, such burns would probably have taken the member itself, much less the use of it.
He lifted his arm so that all could see it and flexed his fingers several times. ”It still works,” he told the Ton.
Eveleen Riordan's head raised. ”A man with the courage to hold his own hand in fire rather than give his enemies their will over him can also be expected to have the strength to work with that hand when Life's Queen so blessed him as to send him a healer capable of preserving it.”
A good move, Gordon thought. It established Ross as a person of considerable fort.i.tude, and it lay to rest before they ever arose any questions as to why a full Captain should bind himself for a significant stretch of time to the dull and relatively unprofitable business of riding escort to a wandering scholar. Grat.i.tude for such a service, which must cla.s.s as a near miracle, would be more compelling than any oath. Eveleen herself was posing as Murdock's chief officer, bound to remain with him whether he currently commanded the company to which his rank ent.i.tled him or not.
The frown did not leave I Loran's expression. ”You ask a great deal on the weight of your party's word alone, Captain.”
”Benefit only can come to you for following his suggestions,” Ashe told him smoothly.
As he had antic.i.p.ated, the other looked startled. ”How so, Healer?”
”If our warning proves accurate, as we fear and know it must, you shall have preserved your people, your stock and crops, and your portable possessions. Not only will you have salvaged your fighters, but you'll have multiplied their number several times over, and you'll have so positioned them that they'll be able to make a major contribution to the defeat of your enemy.”
”Truly spoken,” the Dominionite man said dryly, ”but if these mercenary hordes of which you speak fail to materialize, I shall have made myself a merry jest for half the domains on this island.”
”On the contrary, Ton I Loran. You'll still profit well. Anyone who laughs will show himself to be the fool.” The archeologist leaned back, clasping his hands before him. Ross half smiled, recognizing a glimmer of his old trader technique... ”At the very least, you'll gain two harvests, and you'll have established fields and farms in the highlands, including the necessary dwellings and outbuildings. Should you want to continue using them, if only for pasturing your stock, it would be a relatively simple matter to move willing families up to take charge of them.”
The blue eyes grew grave. ”Less concrete but perhaps even more important, whether we're right or wrong, you'll have bound your folk to you with a loyalty that would send them through a wall of flame for your sake since you took such care to save them before the full scope of the danger threatening Sapphirehold was even definitely established.”
Luroc nodded. His eyes fixed once more on Murdock. ”You will teach my people, Sapphirehold's men, women, and children, how to fight this strange kind of war?”
The agent's mouth twisted as he suddenly recalled Terra's history and the countless generations of little ones whose lives had been blighted by her eternal conflicts. ”The adults,” he responded a bit sharply. ”We'll leave the rest be.”
It had not been a studied answer, but he could feel a change, a warming, in those around him. These were not men who sought war, even those who served in the domain's garrison. They wanted only to work at their various professions and protect their own, and it sat well with all of them that this strange fighter cared that their children, at least, should be s.h.i.+elded as much as possible from what he believed was soon to come.
”I'll show you the kind of fighting I mean. Lieutenant EA Riordan will handle the basic weapons instruction.”
That last was met with looks of incredulity on every side. It was not so much her s.e.x that sparked the reaction, he knew... No one attained rank, or survived at all, as a mercenary without being well able to use the tools of the profession... It was quite simply her size. Dominion's people were big. Every one of the men around them was tall and powerfully muscled in proportion, with a stocky, solid build that magnified the impression of great bulk. Gordon and he looked no more than adolescents among them. Eveleen Riordan seemed like a young girl barely on the threshold of physical womanhood. He could hardly even blame these strangers for doubting her abilities as they obviously did.
The weapons expert had come to the same conclusion. She smiled at Luroc. ”I've taught arms use,” she explained, ”and so am the most logical choice to deal with the instruction of beginners. It's your farmers and artisans that I'll be teaching, after all. The warriors of your garrison already know how to manage a bow and sword and would have no interest in coming to me.” She stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. ”Unless we have some different technique or manner of usage that they might like to learn. We come from a distance and may have skills unfamiliar here.”
Murdock studied her speculatively. It had come to him that Eveleen fought most of her battles thus, with diplomacy, often accompanied by an air of not entirely manufactured shyness or even diffidence at times. It was a skill he had best acquire. Fast. One did not win friends and allies by stripping men, or women, either, of their pride and standing among their own.