Kingdom River

The general, though a tough man, was beginning to soften with lack of air. The punches and kicks slowly became random. Sam saw in the man's eyes the astounded realization this might be death – come so oddly, so suddenly, in an office of all things, and at the hand of a titled stranger young enough to be his son.

Sam let him go, and the general slid down the wall to one knee, took long, gasping breaths – then staggered up with his dagger drawn.

Sam, arms crossed, sat back on the desk edge, watching him… taking no notice of the knife.

'You… young dog!' A furious brigadier, and even hoarser now. There were tentative knocks on the office door.

'Get away from there!' Sergeant Wilkey said. There were no more knocks.

Sam was careful not to smile. 'I apologize, Lenihan. I was hasty – but I needed to get your attention. We simply don't have time to waste with nonsense.' He picked a paper off the desk-top, then another, and glanced over them. 'Floating Jesus!' Pleased to have remembered the River's Great. 'You people are moving units of East-bank army to cover these fucking towns!'

'That's right!' The general was still gripping his dagger. 'The Kipchaks are raiding across the ice, up-river. They're burning East-bank towns. Killing everyone in them. Children… everyone!'

'Of course they are, General.' Sam set the papers down. 'Haven't you wondered why? – The Kipchaks like children. They have children of their own. So they must have a reason to be crossing the river up there, attacking those towns, and killing your people – including the little children.'

'You… put your hands on me.' Lenihan sheathed his dagger.

'Yes, I did. And if you don't begin to think, instead of sitting passing papers like turds, I'll put my hands on you again. Is that plain enough for you, General?'

Scowling silence.

'The Kipchaks want you people to break up your East-bank army. Shapilov, and now the Khan, want that army dissolved into little garrisons guarding civilians who should be moving back off the river into the forests. What the Khan doesn't want, is that army united into a single force that might cross the river ice against him!' Sam shook his head. 'Lenihan, you and your people at Island have been doing the Kipchaks' work for them.'

'We have not.'

'Yes, you have. And it must stop. We don't have time for mistakes this serious. So far, you've been dealing with the Khan's generals. But now, Toghrul has taken command. Another blunder like this, he'll tear your throats out.' Sam stood up off the desk. 'You people are not dealing with tribesmen and savages any longer, warriors who don't know discipline. You're facing a great mechanical of war – do you understand? A veteran horse-army that can move fifty Warm-time miles a day, and fight a battle that evening. All commanded by a man more intelligent than both of us together.'

Sam stood off the desk, and went to the door. 'So, we do things right, General, and do them quickly and in cooperation – my people coming up into Map-Arkansas, and yours north, on the river ice. We do things right… or your head and my head and the Queen's head will end piled with thousands of others, here in your great courtyard.'

'I… don't know.'

'Yes, you do know, Lenihan… Now, by right of the Queen's warrant to me, you will inform General DeVane of East-bank army, General Parker of West-bank army, the two senior admirals at Island – Pearce and Hopkins – and the River Lords Sayre and Cooper, that their presence is commanded this afternoon in the Queen's council chamber at… two glasses. Each may bring one aide. And General Bailey may choose to attend, or not.'

Lenihan looked even wearier than before. 'I will… inform them, milord.'

''Sir,' will do; we don't have time for 'milord's. But you will do more than inform them, Lenihan. You will see to it that those officers and lords are present – if necessary, escorted and under arrest.'

'… Yes, sir.'

'What's your first name?'

'Patrick.'

'Two more matters, Patrick. You're to post a guard at your corridor door. Also, put your clerks up on charges, for not supporting their officer with more than timid tapping while he was being assaulted.'

A grudging first smile from the general. 'Sir.'

'See you at two, Pat,' Sam said, and left the office, Wilkey following.

***

Ned Flores, weary, stood by a hasty nighttime fire, his steel hook reflecting the flames' red. 'Howell, we're not moving fast enough.'

'We're moving as fast as won't exhaust the men and break down the horses.' Howell spit tobacco-juice hissing into the fire. 'Won't do us any good, Ned, to ruin the army moving it.'

'Speaking of which, we should be nearing the Kipchaks' supply lines soon.'

'Yes.'

'What do you want done when we hit them?'

'Take what we can use, give the rest to the local tribesmen.'

'And the escort?'

'Kill them all.' '

'Okay… My men have had no trouble with the savages – called Bluebirds, apparently. And they'll like any plunder we can give them. No trouble with the Bluebirds – but we got some cold looks from those West-bank scouts, couple of days ago.'

'We're just passing through, Ned. We won't give them any trouble, and there aren't enough of them down here to give us any trouble. If the drum calls coming down the river are true, the Kipchaks pretty much wrecked West- bank army up at St. Louis.' Howell kicked a brand back into the flames. 'Also, I intend to look to those river people for food and fodder as we go north to the Map-Missouri line, in case Charles can't get supplies up to us fast enough. So, let's not kill any of the soldiers they have left.'

'Right… It's really upsetting.'

'What?'

'That you're actually thinking, Howell. It's difficult to get used to.'

'You insubordinate asshole. You're lucky you're wearing that nasty thing.'

Flores raised his hook and kissed it. 'Don't insult my Alice.'

'Alice?'

'Why not? Remember Alice Rodriguez? Cold, curved, and dangerous?'

'… Oh, Mountain Jesus. Hadn't thought of her for years. Well, take 'Alice' – and your regiment – and move off north. Smartly, Ned. We'll night-march six glass-hours.'

'General,' – Flores saluted with the middle finger of his good hand – 'consider it done.'

With Ned mounted and spurred off through falling snow, calling for his trumpeter, Howell stood warming his hands at the failing fire, watching down the hillside to the defile where Phil Butler's Heavy Infantry battalions were marching north in moonlight. Marching in good spirits, apparently, since they were singing 'Gringo the Russians, Oh' as they swung along. Odd, how falling snow muffled sound.

'General?' Roberto Collins reining in his horse – and looking too young to be a captain on the staff. 'Last units, sir, except for Colonel Loomis's rear guard.'

'All right. Orders.'

'Sir.'

'Colonel Loomis to deploy three companies of Lights as tail-end charlies. Double-time the others up to flank us, deploying lightly to the east, heavily to the west. We'll be approaching the Kipchaks' lines of supply, coming from Map-Texas to north on the river. Tell her I want no surprises.'

'Sir.'