she’s taking over using him and Matti as a false front, and I’ve noticed other people in this neck of the woods aren’t too fond of the PPA. Or he’s got to get them all to pay him taxes so he can be independent, which will also make them unhappy, and he’ll probably have to borrow a lot from the bankers too. The Destined Prince with the Magic Sword is wonderful, but less wonderful when he asks you to cough up every tenth bushel and piglet and takes out a mortgage on your farm.
Maugis smiled. “Cash is always useful, Esquire,” he said; Jaeger blinked a little at the unfamiliar title. “But note that my bailiff is selling you fresh produce.”
It took a moment for Jaeger to get the implications; Mary snorted a little under her breath, but Ingolf thought the man wasn’t slow, just deliberate.
I’m not selling anything that would be useful in case of a siege, in other words.
The captured Boise officer had been eating with concentrated attention; probably they’d been on thin rations for a while. The enemy army was so big it was straining their logistics just by being all in one place, and they’d also probably looked forward to getting somewhere they could forage from the enemy. Ingolf waited for him to slow down and make a second trip for dark red Shuksan strawberries and cream. He could ease himself by thinking of it as plunder.
“Have your wounded been treated properly, Captain Woburn?” Ingolf asked, a formal note in his voice.
The man nodded, equally correct as the saying went.
“Yes, Colonel Vogeler. I wouldn’t be here, otherwise. My medical officer survived, he’s been working with yours, and he tells me that they received the same care as your men. I’ve visited them and they’re as comfortable as possible. The rest of us have been well treated and well fed, and the guards are no rougher than necessary.”
He swallowed; he was an unremarkable-looking young man, medium-brown hair and blue eyes, with a rather long bony face and weathered skin, not big or small but hard-looking and very fit, with large hands and wrists. He forced those eyes back to Ingolf.
“Thank you, sir. It’s… not exactly what I’d expected.”
“You’re welcome, though technically you’re Lord Maugis’ prisoners.”
“Thank you as well, then… my lord,” the Boise officer said.
Maugis nodded gravely. “You are welcome, Rancher Woburn. It’s an obligation of chivalry to care for the defeated.”
That brought an odd look; he wondered what sort of propaganda Boise pumped out about the PPA. Boise went in for propaganda a lot, posters slathered all over the place, he’d seen that traveling through its territory on the way to tell Rudi about the Sword, and then again when they all came back heading east; they’d returned by the northern route, through the Dominions. He doubted General-President Martin Thurston had stopped the practice when he took over from-after killing-his father Lawrence. He’d certainly put out enough lies about his brother Fred being responsible for their father’s death; Fred had been one of the Companions of the Quest, and Rudi intended to see him in charge in Boise when things were settled.
Assuming we win, of course. And “ assume”…
Boise’s posters never said much that was good about this part of the world, and probably a lot of it was deserved, though not as much these days as in the past. There were still barons who would have been a lot rougher than de Grimmond, though, even with the High King issuing orders.
Ingolf spoke again: “Your men fought hard against odds when we surprised you, no panic. And they’re very well drilled. When you reversed front on us after that arrow-exchange it was like one man moving; it’s a difficult maneuver and I’ve never seen it better done. If we hadn’t had an ace you’d have gotten away and hurt us badly in the process.”
“Ah… thank you again.” Bitterly. “Those sheep were a trap, weren’t they? Bait.”
“Yup,” Ingolf said, and ate a bite of honey cake with whipped cream.
“And I led us into it and lost half my command,” the younger man said with soft bitterness, looking down at his bowl. “Lost all of it and me, too. It’d be easier all around if I’d taken an arrow in the eye. And I’m supposed to be a trained officer!”
“Son, if something looks too good to be true, like a nice tasty flock of sheep just begging to get put on the grill, it usually is. If it’s any consolation I got sucker punched pretty much the same way back… when I was younger than you are now and had a command I deserved a lot less that you did yours. Training does only so much. Experience you have to get the hard way. You pay for it, and your men pay for it, and that’s just the way it is in this screwed-up world.”
Woburn looked up, eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re not from around here, are you, sir? I can’t place your accent.”
“Nope. I’m from the Free Republic of Richland… the Richland in Wisconsin, not the Richland over near Kennewick on the Columbia.”
The other man’s eyes widened. “The Midwest? Then-”
He shut up quickly. Ingolf ate another forkful, before he said judiciously: “Yup. It really is true that Iowa and the others are marching. On Corwin, for starters, but they’re going to keep right on going as far as Boise and they’re not likely to be in a real good mood by then. Hell, after the way the Cutters killed their Bossman on his own ground, the Iowans aren’t in a good mood now. Iowa’s run by his widow these days, you know. I was there when they mustered outside Des Moines. Must have been seventy, eighty thousand men-and that wasn’t counting the ones who were joining ’em later. They’ve got more if they need ’em.”
“That’s a large force,” Woburn said, a little white about the lips. “Still, numbers aren’t everything.”
“They’re mostly pretty green, except for a few from Fargo and Marshall who were in the Sioux War,” he added honestly. “But there are a hell of a lot them and their gear and logistics are good. The Sioux are coming west too, and they’ve got blood in their eyes and scores to pay off. You had some experience with them yesterday.”
Woburn was silent for an instant, then doggedly returned to his food. “And thank you for… stopping those… Sioux.” He’d probably been about to say savages. “They’d have killed us all.”
Ingolf nodded. “They’re not what you’d call fond of the CUT,” he said mildly. “They’ve got good reason, and there weren’t a lot of rules when they fought ’em the last time, out there on the High Plains east of the Rockies.”
That brought the other man’s head up. “We’re soldiers of the United States, not that f-… not the Prophet!”
What everyone else called the United States of Boise called itself the United States of America, and some of them actually meant it. Ingolf chuckled slightly. “Captain Woburn, have you ever been out of Idaho before?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then said with stubborn honesty: “No. Never even as far as Boise until I did the Officer Candidate School course.”
“Well, I’ve been all the way from Nantucket to the Willamette. More than once. And young feller, the United States is deader than.. . than Rome. Than f-… freaking Babylon, come to that, or those other places in the Bible, Nineveh and Egypt and whatnot.”
“All the way… are you that Ingolf Vogeler?” Woburn blurted, his eyes going a little wide.
“Yup.” Ingolf nodded towards Mary. “And that’s the Mary Vogeler, formerly Mary Havel. Rudi’s sister. High King Artos’ sister, Mike and Signe Havel’s daughter, Astrid Loring’s niece.”
She smiled charmingly. “My mother and father met your father a long time ago, in Idaho. The Camas Prairie, isn’t it? Just after the Change.”
Woburn took a deep breath. “Well, that’s, ah, startling. Yes, I remember Father telling me about that.”
“I’m sure he told you about the fight against Iron Rod,” Mary added.
Yeah. Mike Havel saved Woburn the elder’s bacon back then. We won’t mention the fact that Arminger was backing Iron Rod by proxy.
“And Captain Woburn?” Ingolf went on calmly. “Just for your information, I was at the Battle of Wendell, when old general Thurston died. He was wounded by the Prophet’s men, but his son Martin killed him, your current ruler and the one who came up with this alliance with the Prophet and the CUT. I know Fred Thurston didn’t do it, Martin did. I was there.”
“So was I,” Mary said crisply.
“Is that the truth?” Woburn said quietly.
Ingolf shrugged. “Either my word’s good, or it isn’t, and you’ll have to be the judge of that for yourself.” He
