shit. But by the end of his life, he hadn’t even put all of Idaho back together. Part of Idaho, and a few chunks of what used to be Washington State and Nevada. He didn’t want to make war on ordinary people to do it, either. I know Rudi Mackenzie… High King Artos, the redhead on the horse over there. We went all the way to the Atlantic together. Some real strange shit came down.”
“ Tell us!” someone said. “The way that witch… she’s his mom, right? The way she put us all to sleep… and held off that Seeker asshole…”
“It’s a new world. The rules changed at the Change. But the High King can do some of what Dad wanted done-put a big chunk of the country back together. In a different way, sure. But it’s one that a whole lot of people have already agreed to. So the names are different, big fat fucking hairy deal. It’ll mean no more wars among ourselves, no more marching around and burning farms and getting your head knocked in because… someone… wants to be first in line at the Parade of the Assholes. He’s promised, and I believe it, that we’ll be able to run our own affairs the way we please. We’ll have our own laws, and our own army to back it up. All we have to do is admit that everyone else gets the same privilege, and if they want to dance naked in the woods with antlers on their heads”-there was a general laugh at that-“that’s between them and the mosquitoes. We’ll put joining the High Kingdom to a vote too. I’m for it.”
“I’m for getting back home, Goddammit,” someone called. “I want to get back to my girl and the farm and anyone else can call themselves kings or barons or Chiefs or bossmen or the fucking Wizard of Oz as far as I’m concerned. They leave me alone, I’ll leave them alone.”
“Right,” Fred said, nodding vigorously at the roar of assent. “Are there any crazy bastards here who want a war? We’re all soldiers. We know what fighting really means. Sometimes you have to do it, but that doesn’t mean anyone who doesn’t have his head up his ass goes looking for one. Not just because it sucks for us, but because of the risks to everyone else back home too. Martin’s not only got us into a war here , he’s got the Dominions and the Midwesterners into the fight. The Canuks and the Iowans and their friends are marching right now. Marching towards our homes while we’re dicking around on other people’s ground.”
“Is that really true? And do they mean it?” a soldier asked anxiously.
“People, believe it. Do you think all these Mackenzies could get together and put a story over on you?”
“Hell, no,” the sergeant said thoughtfully. “A lot of the time they can’t agree on the time of day. They argue for the fun of it, like it was a poker game. Sometimes they argue and then switch sides and argue the other way’round just for something to do. Someone would have talked to us. It’s true, or at least they all believe it is, and they’re not stupid.”
“Right. I saw the Midwesterners forming up outside Des Moines with my own eyes, and people, there are a hell of a lot of them and they’re not stopping for shit. The CUT killed their Bossman and tried to kill his whole family; his widow’s running the show there now and she’s out for blood, and the rest of them are baying on that track like hounds after a cougar.”
“ We didn’t kill her man,” someone pointed out.
“Sure, the Prophet’s boys are first on the menu… but they and Martin are joined at the hip. He’s already pulled troops out of this theatre to go east, you must have heard about that before you got captured. Are you all that hot and bothered to go get killed to defend Corwin? Or seeing your neighbors and cousins marched off to do it?”
A brabble started to break out, and Fred held up a hand. “I’m not telling you to make up your minds right away. Go think it over. Anyone who wants to come with me… that’ll be a hard row to hoe. It’ll be dangerous and in more ways than one. You can stay here and be safe and get three squares and a place to flop whatever happens and whoever wins, if that’s what you want to do. Like I said, think it over. You’re free men; make your own decision.”
He stood, looking at them steadily. The gathering had turned from a drill-parade formation to a circle of interested men. Now it began to break up into groups arguing or talking, softly at first and then more loudly as they walked away. And some weren’t leaving, around a hundred.
Fred waited impassively until it was plain who was doing what. Sergeant Saunders, the man he’d talked to first, was the highest-ranking.
I’m not surprised. Martin’s made all the officers from company-grade up swear an oath to him personally. It’ll take something heavy to shift them. They’ve got more to lose, too; it would be easier to retaliate against their families than against a lot of anonymous rankers.
He looked at the sergeant and raised an eyebrow; that was a habit of his father’s he’d picked up.
“Sir, I don’t know about anyone else here, but I’m volunteering to follow you. I believe you and that makes Martin a murderer and a traitor who’s sold us to the CUT. Word about that’s been going round. .. and I don’t like the way a couple of people who got too loud about it disappeared, either. Shit, that’s a big fat fucking load of proof that it’s true right there. I want to be able to speak my mind without looking over my shoulder and wondering who I can trust! That’s no way for free men to live.”
“Good man,” Fred said, keeping the smile off his face; the last thing he needed was to look like a grinning kid.
Then he raised his voice a little more. “That what the rest of you think?”
Murmurs, and then a chorus of Yessirs.
“OK, think about this a little more, people. If Martin gets his hands on you, he’ll have you executed as traitors to him, sure as God, sure as fate. It’s win or die if you enlist with me. And I have the High King’s word he’ll try to avoid having us fighting our own people, use us against the CUT’s men… but there’s no guarantee there.”
Heads turned to Rudi; he shrugged and turned both hands up. “I do promise I’ll try. I don’t give oath I’ll always succeed because I don’t promise what I know I can’t do. That comes back to bite you on the arse, sure and it does, and you end up paying when you can least afford it. As your commander here said, there are no guarantees in war. If you enlist with him, you enlist with me, and soldiers under my command do what they’re told whether they like it or not, and it will be not quite a lot of the time.”
Saunders laughed. “That sounds familiar, sir. I’m in. This needs doing. I don’t expect to like it. I don’t expect an egg in my beer.”
A few edged out from the back, but that left over ninety; about as many as had refused to even listen to him.
“Get the men organized by squads, Sergeant,” Fred said.
“They mostly are already, sir. I can shift the others ’round.”
“Do it. And collect any personal possessions from barracks right away. I don’t want a battle here. Oh, and one last thing. All of you remember, if you sign up, you don’t get to change your mind while this war’s on. Anyone who tries is a deserter and gets what deserters usually do. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“He can’t hear you!” Sergeant Saunders said.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Get them moving, Sergeant.”
Several hours later the tents were going up much nearer Sutterdown. They were standard US (of Boise) issue; so was the hoop armor and curved oval shields with the thunderbolt and eagle, the short swords and daggers, the heavy throwing spears stacked while the men worked. It had all been captured with them, and there was more than enough. They’d even been able to match individuals to their own gear for the most part, though Boise soldiers were taught how to modify equipment to fit. Fred smiled as one of them patted the worn, sweat- stained bone hilt of a short stabbing sword in passing, like someone greeting a favorite hound. They hadn’t looked beatendown in the POW camp, but they were walking noticeably taller now, with no fence around them and weapons to hand.
“One thing,” he said to Rudi.
The High King of Montival was busy; a messenger handed him sheaves of papers, and he flipped through them in a way that looked casual but wasn’t. Every so often he’d drop his hand to the Sword and close his eyes for an instant.
“Fred?” Rudi said without looking up.
“You said you couldn’t make them believe anything… but you could, couldn’t you?”
“Ah,” Rudi said, handing over the sheaf of reports.
His right hand went to the crystal pommel of the Sword, moving his palm on it with a caressing motion. The
