Trent shrugged. 'Well, I'll have to tell Sheila.'
'Yes.'
'Uh, I'll make it quick.'
'It'd be best.'
'Should I tell her how long, approximately?'
'Say a few days.'
'Is that true?'
'True enough. Go do it. I'll meet you in the bar.'
Trent nodded and went off to find his wife.
Incarnadine crossed the patio and went through wide glass doors into the deserted bar, where he took a booth and fiddled with swizzle sticks for a few minutes until Trent came walking in.
Incarnadine looked up at him. 'All set?' Trent gave a quick nod.
'She's distraught?'
'Not so you'd notice. Let's go.'
Incarnadine collapsed his little house of swizzle sticks and got up.
They walked through the bar and out into the spacious lobby, which they crossed to a bank of elevators. One set of doors stood off by itself. These opened. A sign above the doors read CASTLE EXPRESS.
'One thing you have to remember about the universe of Hellas,' Incarnadine said as the doors rolled shut.
'What's that?'
'The temporal differential is severe.' The elevator began to descend.
'Oh? How severe?'
'Very. On the order of three hundred to one.'
Trent was amazed. 'Are you kidding me?'
The king shook his head. 'You could stay a year subjective time, but here…'
'Nothing. Well, that's fine from Sheila's point of view.' The elevator went down two floors and stopped. Doors set into the back wall of the elevator opened onto a stone-lined corridor lighted by wall-mounted torches that looked like glowing jewels.
They stepped out into the keep of Castle Perilous.
'So you want a quick war,' Trent said as they walked the corridor. 'Quick and clean, though. Not quick and dirty.'
'Yes. If possible.'
'Not always possible.'
'No, not always. And for `quick' in this context, read `relatively quick.' This is an archaic world. Nothing happens quickly but death.'
'Right. So, how long, do you figure?'
'That's going to be up to you. There's a fleet assembled from many cities-city-states, really-all over this culture. They've been ready to sail, but there've been political problems. And financial. Squabbles over sharing the costs of the war, etcetera.'
'Some things never change.'
'You said it. Anyway, the fleet is about ready to sail. But they don't have a rational battle plan. I came up with one, but it will never be followed if I'm not there to hector and cajole. And as I said, I can't be there.'
Trent asked, 'You want me to follow your game plan?'
'No! I trust you implicitly in this. Your strategy may be better than mine or worse, but it will be yours. You'll have faith in it at least. And you'd change mine, anyway.'
'Probably.'
'So, that's that. You'll have enough time to size up the strategic situation yourself and come up with a campaign to suit.'
'But how much control will I have?'
'You'll have the ear of the commander in chief. The kingpin of the whole operation trusts me implicitly. He's a good leader but is not his world's greatest chess player, if you know what I mean.'
'Likes frontal assaults.'
'They all do in this world. But this guy knows his limitations-'
'What's the guy's name?'
'Anthaemion. He realizes he's in over his head, and he knows he has to win this one. So he's open to suggestions.'
'But will he be open to my suggestions?'
'Will he listen to a special emissary, my own brother, a prince of the realm? Sure he will. He doesn't like me being away, but we've talked, and he understands.'
'How much does he understand, about Perilous and such matters?'
'The usual cover story. I'm his court magician. I come from a distant foreign land, far, far away. Hyperborea, Shangri-la, und so weiter.'
Trent chuckled. 'How many potentates play Arthur to your Merlin?'
'Gods! If I had a farthing.'
'Okay. By the way, what's the objective? Another city-state, I take it. What's the name of the place?'
'Dardania.'
Trent looked thoughtful. 'This is beginning to resonate. And what's Anthaemion's outfit called?'
'His city-state? Mykos. The members of the joint military command he heads are generally known as Arkadians, though they don't think of themselves much in that light. This can be a shaky alliance at times.'
'Hmm. Let me ask this. What set the whole shootingmatch off? What's the war all about?'
'Well, again, the usual thing. They're all pirates in this culture, really. Raid each other constantly, harass the hell out of each other's shipping, and so forth, and it's tolerated to a degree. All's fair, up to a point. But then someone goes too far, breaks an unwritten rule. Then everyone gangs up on the transgressor, and all hell breaks loose.'
'But what precipitated it?'
'One gang made off with another gang's women, which is nothing original. They all do it, and worse, but this time the ringleader kidnapped the big king's little brother's wife, and… What's the matter?'
Trent had come to a halt, arms folded, regarding Incarnadine with withering skepticism. 'Don't tell me. This king's brother's wife. Her name wouldn't happen to be-?'
'It's Alena.'
'Ye gods, Inky! What in the name of-'
'The analogues are there, but they're superficial, really.'
'Oh, sure.'
'No, I'm not kidding. I know it sounds fishy, but-'
'Just a little skirmish, you said. A quick assault. One-two punch and they're out. Right!'
Incarnadine leaned against the smooth stone wall. 'Trent, do you want to bow out? No hard feelings if you do.'
'Well… damn it.'
'Seriously, I'll understand.'
'So you say now. But you said you were in a bind.'
'I'll get by somehow. Don't worry about it.'
Scowling, Trent eyed his brother askance.
'It's okay, Trent,' Incarnadine said mildly. 'Really.'
With a deep sigh of resignation, Trent started walking again. 'You con artist. You rotten, no-good swindler… '
'Really, if you think you can't handle it-'
'Oh, shut up. You know I'm not going to chicken out now.'
Watching his brother stalk away, Incarnadine grinned wryly. 'I knew I could count on you,' he said.
Trent walked resolutely on. 'Up yours. Your frigging Majesty.'
