March To The Sea

'I'd suggest that we just pretend there's a magic bag somewhere with more money,' Kosutic said. 'I mean, he never has to know, right?'

'But what about Poertena?' Pahner asked as he threw one of the cases onto a turom. The local draft animals were, indeed, some sort of distant cousin of the civan, but they had far more placid dispositions, and this one only whuffled with mournful resignation under the weight.

'What about him?' The sergeant major lashed a bag to a second turom. 'We tell him there's no cash at all; it just brings out his creative side.'

'We don't want him getting too creative,' the captain pointed out. He paused, trying to judge whether or not the turom was overloaded on one side.

'That's always been your problem, Armand,' the NCO told him as she picked up another of the heavy cases and loaded it onto her beast. 'You're too kindhearted.'

'True, true.' Pahner gathered up the reins of his civan, swung into the saddle (now equipped with human-style stirrups), and made sure he had a firm grip on his turom's lead. 'I need to get over that, I suppose.'

'It'll get you killed some day, I swear,' the sergeant major said as she mounted in turn. 'Take it from me,' she added as they headed down the track to town.

Behind them, the water rose over the last of the rock pile at the bottom of the shaft.

CHAPTER SIX

'You know, I really didn't miss this,' Roger said as he slid down off of Patty.

'To be terribly honest, Your Highness,' Pahner replied, wiping the sweat off his brow, 'neither did I.'

The first day of travel had been uneventful as the company followed one of the regular caravan trails down out of the mountains. Within a few hours of leaving Ran Tai, however, they'd hit the enveloping, sweltering clouds of the jungle-covered lowlands and passed once more from the region of relative cool back into Marduk's standard steambath.

Cord and the other Mardukans had, of course, been delighted.

There were quite a few of those 'other Mardukans,' now, including the recently hired mahout who climbed up on Patty and guided her to the picket lines. The mahout and his fellows were only a few of the 'camp followers' the company had attached, however. Their stated destination, Diaspra, had been avoided by caravans for the last several months as the advance of the Boman barbarians made travel out of Ran Tai's high valley increasingly problematical. The riverport city lay on the Chasten River where it broke over the edge of the Diaspran Plateau, and the Chasten drained directly into the vast gulf or inland sea they'd identified from their rough, deplorably undetailed maps as their next objective. The locals called it the K'Vaernian Sea; the humans called it the shortest path to the open ocean which lay between them and their ultimate goal. That made Diaspra their only logical intermediate objective, and their departure had been delayed repeatedly as caravan masters solicited their services for protection on the trip.

All of which explained why the Marines and their beasts were accompanied by two caravans of flar-ta and turom, along with another two dozen civan –riding guardsmen. Between the Marines' heavy weapons and unusual tactics and the additional guards, they might be able to beat off a few attacks.

Roger looked around as the rest of the caravan came to an untidy stop and the Mardukan guards straggled out to assist the Marines. One of Pahner's requirements had been that the guards be willing to follow his orders, even the strange ones, and now the Mardukans began digging foxholes while the Marines laid out mono-wire and directional mines. As always, however, the majority of both groups were on guard, and the work parties hadn't hesitated to conscript liberally from the chaotic mob which wasn't attached to any particular caravan but had simply followed the departing party.

'I don't know about this,' the prince said, shaking his head. 'There are too many for us to cover, and not enough to really help.'

'It'll be all right,' Pahner said. 'There's a reason the Marines stay around you. They're obviously the best armed and most dangerous of the bunch, so any attacker in his right mind is going to hit the rest of the caravan first.'

Pahner patted his breast pocket absently for a moment, then extracted a piece of bisti root, sliced off a thin strip, and popped it into his mouth. He replaced the rest in his pocket, and his eyes considered the river that the caravan route followed while he chewed.

'The Boman are also still reported to be on the north side of the Chasten, not our side. But you're right— we still need more guards. I wish we'd been able to hire that group of mercenaries you tangled with. They might have been a tad incompetent, but we could have fixed that quickly enough.'

'Well,' Roger said with a chuckle, 'I understand they had to get out of town pretty quick.' He shook his head again at the thought, then frowned. 'And I don't know how we could afford a company of mercs, anyway. We're tapped. Remember, Captain?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Pahner said with a faint smile as he masticated the mildly stimulating sweet root. 'I'm sure something could have been worked out.'

* * *

'Don't worry, Rastar,' Honal said. 'We can work something out.'

The Vasin prince looked at the strip of overcooked atul meat, then out at the encampment. Many of the women had only a scrap of root or bark in their hands, but they were tearing at that avidly, and there was a faint underlying whimper from the young who had already finished their scraps.

'We're just about at our end, Honal,' he said quietly, and gestured at the encampment. 'We have three times as many women as men, and many of the men aren't warrior bred.' He clapped his false-hands in despair. 'We might have made it on our trade in Ran Tai. Now . . . I don't know. If we can make it to Diaspra we might be okay. But we couldn't make it the last time.'

'I'm sorry about Ran Tai,' Honal said. The younger Mardukan looked as if he would like to die. 'It was just . . . Those guards were so stupid. And if the gold had been there like everyone said—'

'What?' his cousin asked. 'We would have taken it? Are we Boman? Are we bandits, cousin? Or are we Vasin, the last of the war bands of Therdan and Sheffan? The Warriors of the North? The Free Lords? Which, cousin? Warriors or bandits?'

The younger Mardukan didn't answer. He only retreated into his own misery, and Rastar took a nibble of the leathery meat, then stood and walked into the camp. He squatted down in the midst of the nearest group of females, pulled out of one of his knives, and began cutting the strip into very small pieces.

The women remained sitting, looking in shame at their hands as the last Prince of the North shared his meal with the starving younglings.

* * *

'That was wonderful, Kostas,' Roger said, and took another bite of the succulent drumstick. 'What was it?'

'Ah, that was wine-basted basik, Your Highness,' the valet-cum-chef replied, and Roger looked at him sharply. The only times the prince had heard the term before had been in reference to humans . . . and it hadn't been very complimentary.

'Huh?' he remarked suspiciously and glanced around at the other members of the dinner party.

Cord was doing his best to look inscrutable, but the company had been around Mardukans long enough to recognize suppressed mirth. O'Casey had set down her morsel uneaten as she raised an eyebrow at the cook, but Kosutic—after a look around—ostentatiously popped her next bite into her mouth and chewed with obvious relish.

'What did you say it was?' the sergeant major asked innocently.

'I finally found out what 'basik' meant when I was shopping in the market,' the valet told her with a puckish grin. 'It's the Mardukan version of a rabbit. It's apparently shy and somewhat stupid,