them. For air — well, I had found myself one of the wise men of Vallia, who are not to be confused with sorcerers although often termed wizards, and he was busily producing the substances necessary to fill the silver vaol-paol boxes that lift and power fliers. We would build ourselves a fleet of sailing fliers, able to lift into the air but dependent on the breeze for sailing. At the least, they would give us some support, and at the best would help us rout the enemy. In the great waters of Kregen there are perhaps only the devil Shanks from over the curve of the world who can teach Vallians much about sailing ships. From the fleets of great Vallian galleons would come eager volunteers to sail the ships of the sky.
The map of Vallia, as well as remaining blank as to the intentions of our foes, showed not a single mention of any place called Lancival. I had not commented to Jilian that I did not know it. And she, the minx, had known all along that I could not. No smot, den or village, no province or estate that I could find was called Lancival, and none of the men I questioned had heard of the place, no, by Vox, never!
The Lady Winfree, a charming girl and married to a Chuktar newly appointed to command a brigade, looked right through me when I mentioned the name to her. She excused herself rapidly and made off, her skirts swaying, her head high. So that was that. Lancival was another of these damned secrets the women held so close to them. Well, they were entitled to secrets, of course, that went without a say-so. And, equally of course, there are secrets wives hold that they are not entitled to, just as their husbands hold remembered guilt. I felt the thankfulness in me I had told Delia of Earth, that weird little planet with one tiny yellow sun, one small silver moon and not a diff in sight.
I went to see Jilian in her yellow-sheeted bed with the flowers banked around the suns-filled room. She lay white and lovely and completely unconscious of anyone or anything save what paraded before her in dreams. I sighed.
The doctor said: “Give her another two days, majister.”
Long before I left the ladies’ quarters, which had been among the first of the palace ruins to be rebuilt, Barty met me bubbling with an enthusiasm and a joyful eagerness I found despite my mood to be wonderfully infectious.
The first thought was that one of the invading armies had been discovered. But Barty called out: “Dayra!” He waved his arms, his face almost bursting, and fell in beside me to trot along babbling out the news. “She has been seen. It must be her, definitely — the spy was well paid. She rode into Werven with a rascally gang buying supplies. I am sure, Dray, there can be no doubt.”
“Werven. That is in Falinur, Seg’s kovnate.”
“Wherever it is, Dray — I must be off. This is the chance we have been waiting for.”
He was right. And the devils of temptation leered and beckoned to me. My daughter, my elfin wayward daughter who wore a steel-taloned claw and slashed men to pieces, Ros the Claw — how could I not rush instantly to find her and how could I not stay in Vondium in her time of trial? What to do?
Barty must have sensed that indecision in me, for he was becoming more and more attuned to the delicacies of personal relationships these days. He cocked an eye at me, and stopped speaking, and for a dozen strides we marched side by side out of the women’s quarters. In silence we continued through the Mother of Pearl Court, under the colonnades where purple-flowered ibithses glowed against the limewash, and so over tessellated paving into the cool blue shade of the Goldfish Court where the tanks rippled ghostly flickers of orange-gold like sparks against the milky silver.
“You must go, Barty.” I spoke heavily. “And my heart goes with you. But for me, I must stay here.”
He understood.
There was no way of telling if he was pleased or sorry I would not be with him, for we had gone through a few hairy moments together, and to do him credit he expressed immediate understanding and determination to talk to Dayra. He was aware of problems. He did not know Dayra was Ros the Claw. I felt it right that he should know before he went, and found little sense in my withholding the information previously.
“By Vox!” he said. “You mean — like that ghastly steel claw your friend Jilian was wearing?”
I nodded.
He shook his head. “What a girl. I’ve romped with her when we were very young — before I knew you, Dray. I think she must be very — grown up — now.”
“Yes.” I spoke dryly, and my throat choked up. “Very.”
Barty had owned a number of airboats and all the survivors of the troubles had been placed at the disposal of the Vondium Defense Forces, as was proper. The Lord Farris was reluctant to release a single unit from the small forces we had; but he understood from what I did not say and from my demeanor that the need was pressing. Barty was fully supplied with all that a man needs to survive on Kregen and with a party of his own men was sent off in fine style. He called down the Remberees, which were answered with bellows of well wishers, and the flier fleeted up and away into the radiance of the Suns of Scorpio. A fine, headstrong, courageous young man, Barty Vessler, the Strom of Calimbrev. But, all the same, the thought occurred to me and I could not halt it, that it ought to be me who flew off with such high hopes. And, come to think of it, where the hell was Delia?
The next few days passed most miserably.
There were, at the least, no more ghostly visitations from that infernal Wizard of Loh, spying on us in lupu; but even that would have been a welcome interruption. As it was, and despite the people around me who worked hard and with a will, I felt alone, isolated, cut off from all the things that seemed of worth. So when Nath, who as the commander of the Phalanx was now called a Kapt, a general, wanted me to inspect the new bodies he had formed, I was glad to go.
Now, as you know, a Phalanx consists of two Kerchuris, the two wings, each of five thousand one hundred eighty-four pikemen, the brumbytes. Flanking them are the Hakkodin, the axemen and halberdiers, eight hundred sixty-four strong. Because we now had access to adequate supplies of iron, and Vondium’s forges produced first quality carbon-steel, we had incorporated bodies of men equipped with the big two-handed sword. With these fearful weapons they could knock a jutman from his saddle with a single blow, if they did not slice him in half.
In addition, and because of the promised threat from the air, the Phalanx had attached strong forces of archers. These were not, alas, the famed and feared Bowmen of Loh armed with the superb Lohvian longbow. They used the compound reflex bow, powerful, accurate, flat in the loose, and they had been drilled and trained until shooting oozed from their ears. They had been given particular attention. The Vallians were now aware of the danger from the skies.
As for artillery, wheeled varters, the Kregan ballistae, were manufactured and artillerymen drilled and practiced with a keen desire to make their battery the best in the army. The superior Vallian gros-varters, too, were produced. There just was not time to have the wise men go into the problems of design and manufacture of the repeating-varters I had set my heart on. They would have to come later — if Vallia survived.
The two Kerchurivaxes came up to report, massive and brilliant in armor and a profusion of ornamentation. I never stinted on the amount of decoration a fighting man cared to wear, provided always that nothing was allowed to interfere with his efficiency. The long period of waiting was trying, but as the two Kerchuri commanders saluted and I looked beyond them, with a welcoming word, to the massed blocks of the Phalanx, I saw with a lift of elation that the men showed not a sign of boredom or slothfulness. Of course, Nath kept them up to the mark. But, all the same, idleness breeds slackness. We would have to take a little stroll in the suns shine of Antares and give the brumbytes and the Hakkodin a modicum of exercise.
Each Kerchuri contains six Jodhris, and the twelve Jodhrivaxes were wheeled up smartly to me to be received with a Vallian handshake after the formal salute. They were all tough-looking men, sweating a little in their armor; but big, bold, bulky, fit men to stand in rank and file and handle the long deadly pike. Pikemen need bulk as well as muscle. The Hakkodin, as I received their commanders, were lither; but still big men, still men who could swing a halberd and take the legs from under a charging totrix or benhoff.
The archer force attached to this Phalanx was under the command of Log Logashtorio. He was a Bowman of Loh, from Erthyrdrin, Seg’s homeland, and he did not know whether to laugh at the antics of his men with the smaller bow or to be proud of their achievements. He was an old professional, a man I had known for some time and who had remained loyal throughout the Time of the Troubles. I had promoted him to the command with the rank of Chodkuvax. A few words quickly revealed his delight in his command and the work involved and his whole- hearted support of his bowmen, despite that they were not Bowmen of Loh and did not pull the fabled Lohvian longbow. I shook hands and said, “Now if Seg Segutorio were here, Chodkuvax Logashtorio…”
And his seamed face split into a massive smile and he beamed and said: “By the Veiled Froyvil, majister!
