March To The Sea

their ears (when they could lay their hands on raw materials, at least), the quirky inventor had proved a priceless resource to the defenses. Another example of the sort of genius the Cove seemed to produce almost spontaneously.

Tor Flain loved his city, although he, like many others, had not been born here. His parents had moved from D'Sley when he was young and started a small fish-processing business. He'd grown up with the K'Vaernian bells in his ears and worked long hours as a child and teen, gutting the daily catches and running the results from Great House to Great House. His father was a good salesman, but it was his mother who'd really run things. She'd had an eye for the best fish, and the best way to do things—what some were now calling 'efficiency'—and it was the efficiency of the House of Flain which had permitted them to rise from a tiny processor, one among hundreds, to a noted provider of luxury goods. They weren't a major house, by any means, but they were no longer living in a shack on the docks, either.

And as a result of that, their daughters had married well and their sons had spread into many major positions throughout the city and its varied businesses. Positions such as that of second in command of the Company. That hadn't seemed such a good move once; now, Tor Flain's position was arguably among the ten most important ones in the entire city. And while he wasn't about to use his influence to give business to the family, it wasn't really necessary for him to. Anyone who wanted to deal with the Guard assumed that while dealing with the House of Flain wasn't a requirement, it couldn't hurt, either.

Genius inventor from apprentice smith, commander of the Guard from simple guardsman, second in command from a family of fish-gutters. That was K'Vaern's Cove . . . and it was why he would willingly lay down his life for it.

Kar slid the telescope closed again and tapped it on one true-hand, his lower arms crossed in thought.

'It's a relief column,' he said.

'Damned small one, then,' Flain responded. 'Barely three thousand.'

'But what three thousand?' Kar mused. 'The Northerners' lead banner is that of Therdan.'

'Impossible,' Flain scoffed. 'It was overrun in the first wave!'

'True. But there were rumors that some of them had escaped. And the banner next to it is Sheffan's. They're all supposed to be dead, too, you know. But the really interesting thing is the banner at the head of those spearmen.' Tor looked a question at him, and Kar grunted a chuckle. 'It's the River.'

'Diaspra?' Flain said in astonishment. 'But . . . they would never. They don't involve themselves in wars at all.'

'This war is different,' Kar pointed out. 'But what I don't understand are all the turom and pagee. There seem to be an awful lot of them for a relief column that size. It's almost more like a giant caravan, and there are some figures out there—strange ones that look a bit like women but are obviously something else. Many of them are on the pagee, too.'

He opened the telescope yet again, peered through it for long, thoughtful minutes. Then, suddenly, he gave a whoop of delight.

'That's what they're packing!'

'What?' Flain asked.

'Iron, by Krin! Those beasts are loaded with iron bars!'

'They must've come by way of Nashtor,' the second in command mused. 'Somebody was using his head for something besides holding up his horns.'

'Send out a rider,' Kar said. 'Let's find out what we have here. I think we're going to like it.'

* * *

The Mardukan who greeted them was the biggest damned scummy—with the possible exception of Erkum Pol—Roger had ever seen. Which, given the size of normal Mardukan males, was saying something. Not only was this one damned near four meters tall, he was disproportionately broad even for that towering height and looked as if he could bench press a flar-ta.

'Bistem Kar,' Rastar said with obvious relief. 'You live.'

'Yes, Prince Rastar,' the monster responded in a deep, rumbling grunt of laughter. 'And as amazed as you are to see me, I'm ten times as amazed to see the heir of Therdan at the door.'

'We tried to win through to you when first we fled, but there were too many Boman,' Rastar admitted. 'And, as the gods would have it, perhaps that was for the best.' He turned from the K'Vaernian commander and gestured to Roger. 'Bistem Kar, Captain of K'Vaern's Cove, may I introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Roger MacClintock of the Terran Empire.'

'I greet you, Prince MacClintock, in the name of the Council of K'Vaern's Cove,' the Mardukan responded, admirably restraining his obvious curiosity about just what in hell a 'Terran Empire' might be. 'And I greet your loads with even greater happiness,' he added.

'That's why we stopped by Nashtor,' Roger said. 'And may I introduce my senior commander, Captain Armand Pahner, who was the one who insisted on retrieving the metal.'

'I greet you as well, Captain Pahner,' the Guard commander said, casting a close eye over the human. He looked from the chameleon-clad CO to the similarly clad Marines spreading out to either side of the caravan and suppressed an audible grunt of pleased laughter. 'Welcome to K'Vaern's Cove.'

* * *

'K'Vaern's Cove,' Rus From said with more enthusiasm than he'd shown since leaving Diaspra. 'We're here.'

'Wonderful,' Bogess responded in a much grumpier tone. 'Another city, another battle. Just wonderful.'

The area between the inner and outer defenses was given over to agriculture. There were crops of barleyrice and apsimon fruit, mostly clustered on the bay side of the narrow neck of land. On the seaward side there were fruit vines, the famous sea-plums of the coastal region that produced sea-plum wine.

'But this is K'Vaern's Cove!' the priest said. 'K'Vaern of the Bells! All the world meets in K'Vaern's Cove! This is where over half the devices in the entire Chasten Valley come from. This is where the impeller pump system was invented. There's no other city like it!'

'Uh-huh,' the general scoffed. 'And all the streets are paved with gold. It's still just another city and just another battle.'

'Well, we'll see,' the cleric replied, refusing to be suppressed by the pessimistic soldier.

'And another new way of doing battle,' Bogess continued. 'It's not as if we can just teach them pikes and be done with it. No, we have to create these 'muskets' and 'mobile cannon.' Then we have to learn how to use them ourselves.'

'Not quite,' From corrected as the two representatives from Diaspra were called forward. 'In fact, you'll have to, somehow, learn how to use them while they're still being created. And without the help of the humans.'

* * *

'Podder mocker,' Poertena muttered as the column rounded the first hill.

The basis of the city's name was immediately clear. Far below them lay a perfect natural harbor—a cove cut off from the worst effects of weather by hills on either side. All of the hills were extremely steep, with sheer- sided inlets or fjords between several of them, and the bay and the inlets had been linked to create a sheltered, multipart port. Clearly, some of the smaller side harbors could support only small craft, but there were hundreds of those circulating around the city.

The deep-water portions of the port were packed with ships. The most common was a single-masted, square-rigged, round-hulled design very similar in most respects to a medieval Terran cog. There were differences —the beam to length ratio was a bit better—but generally, the resemblance was remarkable. Most of them were about twenty meters from stem to stern, but a few larger ones ran to a bit over thirty, and one of the larger ones was being towed out by a galley, assisted by the slight puffs of the land wind coming over the hills.

One of the side-harbors seemed to be given over to military vessels, of which there appeared to be two basic types. At least two-thirds of them were sleek, low, needle-slim galleys armed with rams, but with no apparent sign of seagoing artillery. The remaining warships were larger, heavier, and clumsier looking. Like the galleys (and unlike most of the merchantmen in the harbor), they carried both oars and masts, but their main armament was