Darkness Descending

those parts of the kingdom he still ruled. King Mezentio’s men, though, put up a stiffer fight than did Unkerlanter peasants. Swemmel needed to grasp that.

He looked petulant. “Why do we have armies, if we cannot get the best use from them?” he demanded.

“Your Majesty, you are getting the best use from them,” Rathar answered. “If you expect more than men and beasts can give, you are doomed to disappointment.”

“We are always doomed to disappointment.” Swemmel wasn’t deaf to the bittersweet songs self-pity sang. “Even our own twin betrayed us. But we had revenge on Kyot--aye, we did.”

King Guntram, Swemmel and Kyot’s father, had died just after the end of the Six Years’ War. Neither twin would admit he was the younger, and the other thus the rightful heir. The Six Years’ War had cost Unkerlant a dreadful price. But the Twinkings War that followed made its toll seem light by comparison. In the end, Swemmel had boiled Kyot alive.

Coming back to the here-and-now, the king said, “Very well, Marshal. If you think we must fight like the Algarvians, fight like the Algarvians we shall. You have our leave to make it so. But our arms had best meet with success, or you will be judged for your failures.” Robes flapping behind him, he swept out of Rathar’s office.

Momentarily alone, the marshal allowed himself the luxury of a long, loud sigh of relief. He’d just finished it when his adjutant came into the office. Major Merovec’s strong-boned face bore an anxious expression, as any officer’s might have after a visit from the king.

“We go on, Major,” Rathar said, understanding him completely.

“Powers above be praised,” Merovec said, and said no more. Suddenly, he looked anxious in a different way, as if realizing even that little might have been too much. Only Rathar had heard him, but the comment gave the marshal a hold on him he hadn’t had before. Such was life in the Unkerlanter royal palace.

“His Majesty wants us to keep pressing the Algarvians hard,” Rathar said. “He is not the only one who wants that, of course. The discussion was about the means, not the end.”

“And?” Major Merovec asked. He knew as well as Rathar that sometimes Swemmel would give orders and would insist they be obeyed. Unkerlant had had its share of disasters over the years because of that.

“And we are to continue as we have been doing,” Marshal Rathar replied. Merovec didn’t let out a noisy sigh of relief, but the urge to do so was written all over his face.

“Any more word out of Kuusamo?” Rathar asked, glad to talk about anything, even bad news, that had nothing to do with Swemmel.

“Two princes dead, they say, and half the capital wrecked,” Merovec told him. “I wonder how many Kaunians the redheads had to kill to bring that off. Powers above be praised they didn’t try to do it to Cottbus.”

“No promise they won’t,” Rathar said, and his adjutant, looking sour, nodded. The marshal of Unkerlant went on, “Of course, when they’re fighting us, they have to worry about our soldiers. There aren’t any Kuusaman soldiers in the fight yet, not to speak of.”

“Aye, though I wish there were.” Merovec sounded sour, too. “After this, it’ll take longer for the Kuusamans to get into the fight, too.”

“You’re likely right,” Rathar said. “But they’re liable to fight harder once they are finally in. Now they know what sort of foe they’re up against. I hope Mezentio’s men don’t decide to do the same to Setubal. That would hurt us.”

“Aye, Lagoas truly is in the fight, even if it’s only in the land of the Ice People,” Merovec said.

“And on the sea,” Rathar added. His adjutant grunted dismissively. ““We don’t pay the sea enough attention,” Rathar insisted. “We didn’t start worrying about losing Glogau, up in the north, till almost too late, but where would we be without it? In a cursed mess that’s where.”

“That’s so.” Merovec’s admission was grudging but real. “Still and all, though, you win wars or you lose them on land.”

“I think so,” Rathar said. “If you asked Mezentio’s marshals, odds are they’d think so, too. But if you asked in Sibiu or Lagoas or Kuusamo, you’d hear some different answers.”

“Foreigners,” Merovec muttered under his breath. Far and away the largest kingdom on Derlavai, Unkerlant was and always had been to some degree a world unto itself. Like Rathar’s adjutant, a lot of Unkerlanters had little use for anyone from outside that world.