Warlord

down the slanting cutbacks of the road into the valley. It was. . green, Raj decided. Spirit of Man of the Stars, I hadn't realized how much you could miss green. In form much like any other foothill outwash cone, but bigger. Canals threaded it, and where they passed there was life. Plots of dark-green sugar cane, waving in ripples like the sea; grain stubble already showing verdant with the next crop; orchards of bushy glossy oranges and lemons. . And in the center of the valley, rising on a hill, the city: glowing with a white that blazed in the noonday sun, like a heap of cubes of pure sugar, like a set of blocks carved out of snow, the White City of Komar.

'Well,' he said to Suzette, 'let's go down.' I really shouldn't be snatching time like this, he reminded himself. Then, savagely: At least she's not in the carriage with bloody Stanson. That was a little unfair, the 2nd had been in the saddle and doing some field drill these past four or five days. .

* * *

'. . and here,' Muzzaf droned on, 'you see the canal extension: wonderful are the works of the Spirit! The new concrete dam, another ten thousand hectares under cultivation, financed by the city and our most benevolent and well-loved Vice-Governor, may the Spirit. .'

Raj tuned him out for a moment. The civil administration seemed to be moderately efficient, here: not much traffic to be pushed aside, at least. The road was arrow straight, up to East Residence standards. The long-settled part of the Vale was to their right, small holdings intricately cultivated. Tall date palms, with fruit trees beneath; beneath that were grain or vegetables, cotton or sugar or grass, with even the goats tethered and hand-fed. The farmers' dwellings were white cubes, sometimes surrounded by flowers; he could see that almost every one had a craft/workshop of some sort attached, men and women weaving cloth or baskets, tanning leather, embroidering, hammering at brass-ware or tinware, turning pots. Everyone waved, and many ran out to cheer. Dainties were handed up; split pomegranates, huge golden-skinned sweet oranges, joints of sugar cane and clay cups of fruit juices.

A girl ran along at his stirrup for a moment, holding up her laden hands. Raj bent to take the grass plate she offered, and the strong brown fingers threw a flower wreath around his neck.

'Dammit,' he muttered, watching the grins on the faces of his command group. The plate held fresh dates; dried dates were a one-a-year luxury for gentlefolk back home, expensive even in New Residence. 'Dates,' he muttered. 'We've been eating the bloody things for two weeks, and I get dates.' Gerrin Staenbridge was peeling an orange, feeding segments to a laughing Foley. M'lewis had a banana, bit into it and made a grimace; da Cruz showed him how to peel it, looking as near to smiling as Raj had ever seen him.

The left side of the road was less festive; the new lands had been laid out in large fields of sugar cane and cotton and indigo, slave-worked. Mounted guards watched field gangs, many in chain hobbles, Colonists by the look of them. He peered closer: one or two were actually black, with the wooly hair and flattened features he had heard of. Zanj, or even Azanians, from southwest of the Colonial Gulf. They don't look glad to see us at all, Raj thought sardonically.

Muzzaf spoke, responding to his last words. 'Yes, Messer; if you have eaten dates in the North, you have eaten our dates. . See, many of the sugar-mills are run by steam; marvelous is Progress and the works of the Spirit of Man of the Stars. This year, our first steam-powered cotton mill! And there-' he pointed to the northeast of the city, visible now through the thick vegetation '-our railroad!'

Raj looked up with genuine interest, dropping his mental calculation of billeting ratios. Railroads were important, the only means of moving bulk goods cheaply overland, although the need for that was limited. Most people were peasants, after all, and lived from what they grew or made; cities fed from their immediate hinterlands. But a railroad could be very convenient from a military point of view, it was a pity they were so few.

'North from tahe city to the mines,' Muzzaf was saying. 'Our Vice-Governor, the Exalted Barholm Clerett, upon whom the Spirit of Man shall surely shed Its light, loaned us half the cost. No less than sixty kilometers, finished this year!'

He nodded, impressed; that made it the third-longest in the Civil Government, and the only one south of the Oxheads. Muzzaf bowed low in the saddle.

'It has been an honor to assist you, noble Messer,' he said. 'But. .'

They turned the corner into the cleared space any city kept before its walls, here used for low-growing crops, tomatoes and beans and garden truck. Komar's defenses were formidable, even if you could see the buildings on their hill behind-a twenty-meter ditch, and steep turf earthworks before the stone curtain-wall. A hexagonal shape overall, quite modern, with outlying bastions, not one of those high flimsy affairs that rifled guns could batter down in an afternoon. All familiar, there were layout plans and perspective drawings of the fortifications of every city in the Civil Government stored in East Residence, and Raj had gone over them thoroughly. The main gates were open between their fortress-bastions, and a procession was filing out. Litters with the County Legate, officers in dress uniforms, choirs of children in white tunics. A Grand Hierarch ArchSysup of the Church, with acolytes in goldcloth jumpsuits swinging incense censors, bearing a circular computer-core set in gold and silver and lapis lazuli. .

'Shit,' Raj muttered.

* * *

'URRA! URRA!'

The line of men and dogs moved with glacial slowness through the narrow twisting streets. Sprays of flowers flew toward the troopers from the crowds that blackened the rooftops and crowded up against the walls, leaned from wrought iron balconies and windows. . And pushed in where they bloody don't belong, Raj thought savagely; they were handing bottles up to the soldiers, as well, and not fruit juice this time, either. Crowd noise was deafening, though not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of an NCO screaming:

'Next sumbitch takes a bottle I will personal gouge out his eyes and skullfuck 'im to death!'

There were priests on every corner, spraying holy water and scented smoke with abandon; voices were calling the blessings of the spirit on the Governor, on the Vice-Governor. . and I'll be dipped in shit if somebody wasn't calling a blessing on Tzetzas, there's a first. Somebody else ran out with a pork-roast and tried to feed it to one of the dogs, nearly losing an arm in the process. Renunciate Nuns would be handing out blowjobs, at this rate.

Da Cruz came up on his left. 'What do they think this is, a bunch of groomsmen on their way to a wedding?' Raj screamed.

'Wait 'till the 2nd settles in, they'll think we're an outing from a girl's school!' the noncom shrieked back.

They passed what looked like a fancy cathouse, with the whores leaning out of their balcony, squeezing their breasts together and shaking them at the troops, with a sign unrolled below: 'One Free Trip to Paradise For All Members of the 5th Descott and 2nd Gendarmerie.'

Even the Master Sergeant grinned at that. 'It's a first.' Then he paused. 'Ser, we need to talk.'

'Companion's briefing after we dismiss,' Raj returned. 'Two hours past sunset.'

* * *

'. . and anyone,' Raj was saying, from the steps of the Tribunate building; it fronted the only square in the city big enough to address the Battalion, 'who abuses billeting privileges will be up on charges. And if I get any complaints from husbands, brothers or fathers, the malefactor will be looking for work as a harem guard south of here.' A rolling cheer at that; he looked down on the sea of grinning faces and felt a twist at the base of his stomach. How many of them will be alive in a month? he thought. The weight of responsibility descended on his shoulders, heavier than the world.

'All right, boys,' he continued, forcing a smile. 'Everyone loves us here. Just remember why.' He pointed south. 'They don't love us, and they're not going to be throwing flowers, either.' There was a murmur, not displeased but slightly sobered. Good. 'Enjoy yourselves, but remember we're heading out on Starday next. A day to play, a day to recover and a day to go Enter your sins-' he pointed to the city temple, towering in traceries of glass and stone on the opposite side of the plaza '-in the Terminal booths and wash your grimy souls. Then we earn our pay. Spirit of Man of the Stars pervade you. Up the 5th! Descott Forever!'