Part 11 (1/2)
Gurnion rose swiftly to his feet. ”Peace, Ton Luroc, and you, Captain. Two places were prepared for Sapphireholds' representatives. This council has need of both your opinions.”
Luroc nodded and allowed his body to relax. He did not envy Willowland's Ton the task of controlling and working with his large number of independently minded colleagues and was glad he had had the wisdom to keep apart from the Confederacy itself even while allying himself with its cause.
There were no further difficulties. I Carlroc gave a report of the war effort as it now stood and stated his opinion that a change, a slow fear, seemed to be growing in their enemy's mind and heart, that if they laid and worked their plans well and fortune were at all with them, they might see an end to the war during the year to come, or at least, see an end to the worst of the fighting.
He turned to Ross, who echoed the Confederate leader's hopes, then stressed his belief that it was essential to keep as much pressure as possible on the invaders, harrying them right into the winter until the weather grew so severe as to forbid any war activity.
Ross's eyes caught and held each one of them in turn. ”Understand this,” he told them gravely in conclusion, ”we'll win, or we should, but we'll have to fight as we've never fought before once we do succeed in bringing them to bay. Zanthor will have to release his Condor Hall hosts then, and they war with a fanatic's fire.”
He frowned. ”No. You nod, but we of Sapphirehold have met them in battle; you haven't, not in any number. Everything, all the hard, bitter combat your soldiers have endured until this moment, is nothing more than a testing, preparation for what you're going to face when you join at last with them, however greater your numbers might then be.”
”Are they your friends that you praise them so highly?” one of the lesser Tons asked testily.
Ross eyed the man coldly. ”They're my bitter and hated foes,” he answered evenly, ”but I'd degrade myself and my comrades and I'd be allowing you to hold a false security for which you'd pay heavily later on if I spoke otherwise of them. Whatever we think of their leader and cause, Condor Hall's own troops are brave men and brilliant fighters, and they'll yield to nothing but death or unconsciousness.”
”The condition of those you send us is proof enough of that,” Ton I Carlroc said bitterly. ”What a waste, what a criminal waste, of good fighting men!”
”In a way, their tenacity shouldn't amaze us overly much,” the agent told him. ”They've got kin whom they love, and Zanthor has been careful to school them in the belief that we'll return slaughter for the butchering that accompanied his first, seemingly undammable advances. They have no reason to doubt him considering their own ways, and he keeps them well segregated from his mercenaries, who would soon deprive them of any such delusions.”
That should have been the end of it, but to Ross's disgust and growing impatience, the discussion dragged on, seemingly interminably on. Every one of the Confederate Tons believed their foes were at the end of their strength and resources and that spring would bring them an early victory. Murdock's warning that it could still prove to be a costly one failed to check that enthusiasm or their ever-sharpening interest in the spoil they hoped to secure at the close of the war. Most of them resisted the idea of spending any more of their resources than they now felt to be essential to keep what they held to be an already broken enemy in check until the final kill.
Jeran A Murdoc caught his eye at last and shrugged, but the Commandant, too, had enough talk about treasure that was patently not yet won. ”Condor Hall still has mercenary columns and its own garrison,” he said abruptly, seizing the opportunity to speak that was presented by a momentary lull in the debate. ”No victory is guaranteed until it has been gained, most a.s.suredly not this one. I suggest that we bend ourselves to harrying our foes as far as we can into the winter as Firehand suggests and leave the division of Zanthor I Yoroc's lands and goods until we have actually taken them from him. Slacken off now, and it is all too conceivable that he might yet make himself ruler over yours.”
19.
ALL THROUGH THAT morning and the afternoon following it well into the early evening, the meeting continued. At last everything that could be planned and arranged, everything that could be countered, so far in advance, had been considered and resolved, and the weary leaders arose, spent in mind and spirit as a warrior is spent in body after long hours of combat.
Ton Gurnion would not hear of the Sapphirehold unit's departing from his camp so late in the day and insisted upon pressing on Luroc the use of his own tent and arranging for others to be set up near it for the rest of the party. For all his pride, the exhausted I Loran was glad enough to accept the offer.
Ross accompanied the Sapphirehold ruler to I Carlroc's big tent. They discussed how their partisans might most effectively increase the pressure on Condor Hall's supply lines in the crucial weeks ahead, then the Terran asked permission to join Ashe in the quarters a.s.signed to them. He, too, felt as if he had pa.s.sed the day in battle.
To his surprise, I Loran shook his head. ”Stay a while,” he said. He looked pointedly at the camp table near the tent's entrance. ”Gurnion was good enough to leave us some of his wine.”
Murdock carried the light table over to the Ton, then filled two of the goblets arranged around the decanter. One he handed to Luroc and took the other himself after drawing a chair close to the ruler's.
He rolled the pale liquid on his tongue. It was a fine vintage, light and very dry.
A smile flitted about his lips. It was not so long ago that he would not have recognized how good this was. The appreciation of wine was another of the benefits he had reaped from his a.s.sociation with Gordon Ashe, over and above the opportunity to range time and s.p.a.ce.
Luroc sipped his portion, his eyes closing in pleasure. ”It seems like a weary age since I last tasted anything the equal of this.”
”Soon now you'll be in a position to import quality goods again,” his companion promised, ”or reasonably soon.”
”I know. I must just court patience. We cannot expect Zanthor I Yoroc to supply us with prize stock, and I cannot in conscience consider squandering our resources on luxuries at this point.”
He took another sip and settled back in the chair, letting it take his weight. ”You did well in there,” he told Murdock.
”So did you.” Anger flashed momentarily in Ross's eyes. ”I'd have flattened you if you'd actually tried to get up and give me your place.”
The Ton chuckled. He enjoyed the younger man's directness of speech. ”There was never a fear of it,” he a.s.sured him. ”Gurnion I Carlroc would not have allowed such an insult to take place.”
The Ton's dark eyes studied Ross somberly. ”I did fail on another point. I knew Commandant A Murdoc would be present, and I still let you walk in there dressed like a herdsman.”
Ross only shrugged. ”I can survive our kind of war dressed like a herdsman. I mightn't fare so well in something fancier.”
The eyes still held him. ”True enough, but half a high officer's or a ruler's time is spent in political maneuvering, and for that, the trappings are important. You will have to learn that lesson, Rossin A Murdoc, if you are ever to command a column successfully, as I believe you shall gain the right to do within a few more years. Your work with us has gone far toward preparing you for the responsibilities of major rank, and if you will it, you are likely to attain it soon.”
The agent looked away. ”As you said, we need our resources for necessities right now, not luxuries. To my way of thinking, uniforms fall into the luxury category. Those mercenaries should be able to see that.”
”For the war itself, yes. A council like this is another matter.” Luroc sighed. ”No one blames you, Rossin, but Jeran A Murdoc now thinks less of Sapphirehold, less of me, for providing so poorly for you. I saw the look he put on me. You have done too much for my domain for any form of neglect on my part to be tolerable.”
”The Commandant can take his opinion and...” Ross began hotly.
”Again, my young Friend, this is politics. It is also a rebuke for a fault I myself have owned for a long time. I do owe you, Rossin, for more than I shall ever be in a position to repay... Be silent for once and let me finis.h.!.+ You would try Life's Queen Herself at times.”
”Go on,” Ross replied, uncomfortable but knowing enough to keep his mouth shut.
”Your contract will be fulfilled and your loan repaid, and there will be more besides beyond your spoil share, but it cannot be what I of my own heart and honor would give. My first responsibility has to be to my domain. Sapphirehold will need the bulk of its resources and the bulk of my personal fortune to regain its prosperity even with whatever recompense comes to us with the victory. War's blight does not simply vanish from the battleground with the cessation of hostilities.”
The Ton straightened. ”Bring me that saddle pack over there. The black one.”
Murdock complied. Luroc opened it and took a leather-wrapped package from it. This, he handed to Ross. ”Your belt is too plain for anyone but a raw recruit, and it is worn besides. Let Firehand hang his sword from this instead, at least while he is in the company of strangers.”
The Terran's breath came in a hiss when he folded back the wrappings. What he held was a belt, all right, one set, every part of it, with matched emeralds, each of remarkable size and perfection.
”This-this is too much,” he managed at last.
Luroc's voice was oddly soft. ”No, that it is not.”
The Ton's usual manner rea.s.serted itself. ”Had I a second son, this would have been his portion. There is no cadet in my house, and my heir cannot claim what would have been his right. I would have you take it now and stand for me in the place of that other son.” His tone gentled once more. ”I am pleading as well as giving, Rossin. Can you refuse me?”
The younger man's head lowered. ”No. You read me right. I can't.”
Murdock fastened the belt about his narrow waist, first stripping his scabbard from the discarded belt and transferring it to the new one. The plain, worn sheath did not detract from it. This was a tool, not a toy, and in time of active war, it was expected to be utilitarian. None of the others in that council had borne anything more ornate, whatever their richness of dress in other respects.
”Much better,” Luroc I Loran declared. ”See that you show yourself wearing it tonight, for a while at least, even if you are tired, and wear it until we get back to our own camp.”
”I will with pleasure, Ton,” he agreed, smiling.
Luroc continued watching him. There was a difference in his scrutiny now, and Murdoc looked at him, puzzled. ”Ton?”
”Sit down, Firehand.”
He obeyed, concerned now by what he heard in the domain ruler's voice. ”What's wrong?”