Kingdom River

'Charles,' Sam said. Certainly a friend beginning to be lost. 'That's almost the same, but only almost. If the state reeve had refused to arrest, if the magistrate now refuses to convict, I'll have to come to some accommodation.'

No answer from Charles Ketch.

'To hell with Stewart and Sonora,' Ned said. 'Eric – this visit to Middle Kingdom. This was your idea?'

'The Queen's idea, Ned,' Sam said. 'And she wouldn't want the visit just to toss me in the river. She's looking for what help we can give them.'

'Looking for more than that,' Charles said.

'More?' Howell spit into his saucer.

'There's a bride-groom question.' Eric smiled. 'Her daughter.'

'Wedding bells with the Princess Rachel?' Ned grinned and thumped his wrist-stump on the table. 'Ow! Weather damn this thing!'

'An engagement, perhaps,' Sam said. 'I doubt the Queen really intends a wedding.'

'Look, Sam,' Howell said, 'your plan makes good sense. But that will make no difference if Middle Kingdom doesn't agree, doesn't care to listen to you. The Boxcars don't like our holding the Gulf's west coast. They don't like us freeing serfs that run south. They don't like North Map-Mexico having an army, and especially not a good army. And they don't like you ruling down here with no dots on your face.'

'Still, the Queen needs us.'

'And afterward, Sam, if she no longer needs us?'

'By that time, the Princess Rachel and I may be engaged – if a serious engagement was ever intended. It's likely a notion of the Queen's to keep the river lords unbalanced.'

'Right,' Eric said.

Neckless Peter said, 'Probably.'

'And it's possible' – Sam smiled – 'that the Queen will grow fond of me.'

'Oh, how not, boy?' Elvin said through his bandanna. 'And you such a charmer!' He found a strip of mutton fat on his brother's plate, and threw it down the table. Missed Sam, and hit Margaret on her shirt's shoulder.

'That's my fucking red southern-cotton!' She kicked her bench back and jumped up. 'If you weren't dying, Elvin, I'd kill you. I've got to get warm water on this.' She went out into the hall. 'Louis, get down.'

'But Sam,' Charles said, 'engaged? Is it necessary?'

'I think it's going to be.'

'Nailed Jesus.' Jaime picked up a fork, toyed with it. 'Nailed Jesus, Sam. Engaged… then married into those people?'

'Cannibals.' Ned rested his wrist stump on the table.

'Used to be cannibals, Ned.'

'Sam,' Howell said, 'you talk of the Princess and the Queen. But the river lords, the generals, the admirals of the Fleet – will they 'grow fond' of you?'

'Perhaps they'll learn to seem so… And, another matter. Phil, forgive me, but the Boston girl goes north with the army.'

'You're joking.'

'No, Phil, I'm not. A price of her silence, her not at least trying to inform Map-McAllen that you're coming over the border.'

'Sam,' Eric being patient, 'her silence could have been assured otherwise. And her little flying-thing gone the same way.'

'Eric, I think we have enough on our plate without murdering Boston's ambassador, and her pet.'

'As I understand it,' Neckless Peter said, 'New England would likely regret the Mailman as much as the lady. The creatures are very expensive.'

'There you are, Eric – both too expensive to murder.'

'I hope, Sam, they won't prove too expensive kept alive.'

'A concern for another day. So, Phil, arrange a small guard detachment for her, see to her comfort and supplies. And apparently she's a killing lady; watch that that scimitar doesn't get her into more trouble than she can get out of.'

Butler took off his imperial spectacles, polished them with a linen napkin, 'This must be punishment for sin.'

'Punishment for bringing those damn dogs to dinner,' Elvin said. 'Have we more business here? I have to pee.'

'Louis, get down.…' Margaret came in from the hall. 'And let me tell another old dog that he's very lucky that stain seemed to come out. I hope it came out.' She settled onto her bench.

'I wasn't throwing at you.'

'Elvin,' Jaime said, 'just be quiet.'

'Don't tell me to be quiet. – Baja.'

'What?'

'Jaime, Baja militia should be ready to move east with Sonora's, if Charmian has trouble with those Kipchaks come down.'

'I think Charmian and Chihuahua can handle them. But alright; we'll pigeon Oso. Tell him to stop fucking his sheep and get his people assembled.'

'What about New England?' Howell spit into his saucer again, winked at Margaret.

'As I said' – Neckless Peter no longer so shy – 'Boston wishes the Kingdom defeated.'

'And why would New England want the Khan to win, Librarian?' Ned took a swallow of beer. 'How does that help them?'

'They want it, Colonel, because the Kipchaks are a fragile force – '

'Right. Only thirty, forty thousand cavalry.'

'Still fragile, Ned,' Sam said, 'in time. The Khan will die someday, and his son, or his successor, is unlikely to be as formidable. But their Khan is all the Kipchaks have. Without Toghrul, or another like him, they're only separate tribes of shepherds and raiders.'

'That's true enough.' Howell bent to spit in his saucer again, but Margaret reached over and snatched it away. 'Well, for Weather's sake! Women in trousers… never a good thing – oof!'

'Now, children,' Phil said.

'She has an elbow like an ax! – Give me the damn dish.'

'Spit in your fucking pocket,' Margaret said.

'A brute with tits.'

'You two finished?' Sam said. '… I think Peter's right, and New England takes the long view. Middle Kingdom, if it survives, will certainly grow to threaten Boston in time. The Kingdom is a book-civilization; formidable even under weak rule. New England would certainly prefer, in the future, to deal with the Kipchaks.'

Eric nodded. 'It does make sense that Boston would like to see us and Middle- Kingdom go down. Also, considering the future, most of Map-East America is wooded, close country. Some mountains also, apparently. Kipchak horsemen wouldn't be as comfortable campaigning there.'

'And,' Charles said, 'whatever womb-things the New Englanders are mind-making are likely to enjoy dark woods.'

'Can we leave the future alone?' Elvin said. 'Sam is going off to the Kingdom – likely get his throat cut – and we're to kick the Khan in the ass. Now, if there's nothing else, I need to get out of here, or piss under the table!'

Sam smiled. 'Only this: Charles holds here as administrator – with Eric, in case one or two governers see a chance for independence with the army gone north… Eric, failure to produce supplies, or nonpayment of taxes, is to be regarded as treason. Charles knows how I want such cases handled.'

'Understood.'