March To The Stars

see it. But we've got a swarm of hangers-on and the human noncombatants to worry about, too. I'd really rather not risk it, under these circumstances.'

'What kind of alternative do we have?' Roger asked.

'Up the mountains,' Pedi replied, with a gesture to the east. 'There's a small track that leads to the south side of the Mudh Hemh lands; it comes out near Nesru. The Krath have a curtain wall there to prevent Shin parties from taking the Shesul Pass, but the position is only lightly defended from this side.'

'So you think we could punch them out of our way?' Pahner asked.

'Having witnessed your warriors in action, I feel sure of it,' she replied. 'But there are Shin raider parties on the other side of the wall, from Mudh Hemh and elsewhere. Those from Mudh Hemh, I can talk out of attacking us, if they announce their presence in advance. Those from other Vales might or might not recognize my authority, and there are other hazards. The route is lightly used, so it hasn't been cleared of nashul and ralthak.

'And what,' Roger asked, 'are nashul and ralthak?'

'Nashul are ... burrower-beasts. They look like rock and attack by surprise. Very large, very hard to kill. Ralthak are fliers, very large. They both eat the high- turom, the tar.'

'And if we take the route by the Shin?' Pahner asked.

'We will be headed directly to the Vale of Mudh Hemh,' Pedi said with a gesture equivalent to a human shrug. 'We will have to pass through the Battle Lands, and I have no idea what the traders in Nesru will think of that, but they're all under the control of Mudh Hemh, more or less. We shouldn't have trouble on that route. Not from Shin, at any rate. Thirlot and Queicuf are considered impregnable, though.'

'I'm sure we could take them,' Pahner said. 'If we used plasma cannon to take down the gates.'

'Not,' Roger said. 'Overhead.'

'Precisely, Your Highness,' Pahner said dryly. 'That was in the nature of sarcasm.'

'Oh,' the prince replied with a smile. 'And there I was thinking it was a test.' He shrugged. 'Whichever, the mountain route it is.'

CHAPTER TWENTY

Semmar Reg stepped out of the Place of Justice and looked up at the monster towering over him. It was a two-legged beast, with vicious talons and an obviously wicked disposition. The rider on its back, however, was even more terrifying. His weapons and accouterments were different from those of the Valley Guards—armor of leather and fine-linked mail, a lance, and a long weapon like a thin arquebus. Reg bowed low as the apparition drew up at the head of a column of similarly equipped riders and dismounted. Whatever else the stranger might be, Reg noted, he carried more pistols than anyone the mayor had ever seen.

Reg had hurried to the town hall as soon as he heard the sound of a firefight from the south. From Sran's bell-tower, he could easily see the Guard checkpoint on the Kirsti Road on a clear day. Of course, today was far from clear, despite the recent rainstorm which had washed much of the ash out of the air, and the current visibility conditions had made it difficult to make out details. But when he reached the tower's top, he saw a small amount of smoke from arquebuses and bombards still drifting around the fortification. He'd also seen this column of riders, well on its way to the town, and if they'd taken many casualties from the Guard, it wasn't apparent.

What was apparent was that a formed military unit was just about to descend upon Sran. And that hadn't happened in two hundred years.

* * *

Rastar looked around at the town and felt a distinct glow of pleasure. It climbed up the mountains at its back, with one house piled practically on top of another. On the south side, a mountain stream tumbled out of a knife-edged gorge and was gathered for use by several mills that seemed to be the main source of local income.

It was evident that at least some of the place's citizenry had once been more prosperous than they were today, for several large one-time manors had been converted into housing for workers. But if the manor houses' previous owners had fallen upon hard times, the workmen living in their homes today appeared to be doing well enough. For that matter, the entire town seemed relatively prosperous, which was good. Prosperity mattered to the humans, since they felt so very kindly towards town-living turom. Rastar, on the other hand, was Vashin. The Vashin had settled into their northern fortresses barely three generations before the Boman overran them, and the long tradition of raiding was bred into their bone and blood. It might have become somewhat muted in the last generation or so, but they certainly weren't 'townies.'

Thus it was that Rastar saw the town from the uncomplicated perspective of a cavalry leader on a long march. Which was to say, as a chicken waiting to be plucked. Of course, there was no need to be impolite about it.

'Good day to you, kind Sir,' the former Prince of Therdan said in truly vilely accented Krath with a gesture of greeting. 'It's lucky for you I got here first!'

* * *

Reg bowed again, nervously.

'It is a great honor to meet you ... ?' he said.

'Rastar Komas,' the armored stranger supplied. Or, at least, that was what Reg thought he said. Between the outlandish name and the even worse accent, it was very difficult to be certain. 'Prince of Therdan,' the stranger went on, with a false-hand gesture of expansive goodwill. 'It would seem that a caravan, of which I am a member, is about to pass through your town and into the Shin Hills. Unfortunately, we're just a tad short on supplies.'

'I believe you are the party from over the seas?' Reg said delicately. 'I was informed of your presence. However, the High One has decreed that you are not permitted to leave Kirsti. I ... wonder at your presence here. Also, the Shesul Road is closed to all but military traffic. I'm afraid that you're not authorized access.'

'Oh, trifles, my good man. Trifles, I'm sure!' Rastar said with a human grin. It was not a normal Mardukan expression, since Mardukans, like any sensible species, regarded the baring of teeth as a sign of hostility. Not even Eleanora O'Casey could fault him for smiling so cheerfully at the local mayor, but Rastar was pleased to observe that the expression had exercised the proper effect upon him.

'I'll admit that there was some minor unpleasantness when we left Kirsti,' he continued. 'But surely no rational government would hold you responsible for our presence when half the Kirsti Guard is dead at the Atul Gate.'

'Oh.' Foreign accent or no, Reg had no problem understanding that last sentence. He tried not to flinch as he absorbed its dire implications, but he was fairly sure where the rest of the conversation was going. 'I agree with your assessment,' he said, after a moment. 'What can the town of Sran do for you?'

'Well, as I mentioned, we're terribly short of supplies,' Rastar said with another smile which just coincidentally happened to show a bit more tooth than the last one. 'But you're in luck, because I got here before those barbarians from Diaspra or ... even the worse, the humans. So I'm thinking that we can get clear with, oh, say one measure in five of your storehouses. And, of course, some little trinkets. Purely to satisfy the wanton lusts of those Diaspran infantry barbarians. We'll try to keep the humans from burning the town down, but you know how they are. Perhaps if everything was assembled, on carts, ready to go, when they arrived it would be easier to restrain them. And now that I think about it, if we could distract them with a feast outside town, we might actually be able to keep them in check.

'Now, I suppose we could pay for some of it,' he added with a gesture expressive of anxious consideration. 'But then we'd be here all day negotiating, and they'd probably arrive before we were ready for them. What do you think would be best?'

'I'll go get the head of supply,' the mayor said.

* * *

'God, I love good subordinates!' Roger said as he looked around with a sigh of pleasure.