Warlord

'DESCOTT FOREVER!'

'Trumpeter, sound Dismissed to Quarters.'

* * *

Suzette, Lady Whitehall paused on the steps of the tribunate; the plaza was dimly lit by the glow from the windows above her, and the municipal lanterns set high in brackets on the public buildings roundabout. The chanting of a MainFrame service came from the Temple, and the paving stones were being swept and shoveled by City convict gangs, swept free of bougainvillea and roses, dogshit and fruit rinds and shattered bottles. Lights were coming on all over the city, and she could hear the tinkle of water in fountains, and the plangent sounds of gittars, and singing; Komar was still celebrating what it nervously hoped would be deliverance.

Captain Stanson cantered his Alsatian up to the steps, sweeping off his silvered helmet and bowing; there were hyacinths woven in his hair.

'Ah, my dear,' he said, kissing her hand. 'A lovely evening for the loveliest of ladies. I've found the most enchanting little place, and reserved a table for two.'

'I'm sure you and Merta will enjoy it,' she replied, with an ironic lift of her eyebrow, gently tugging on her hand.

Stanson's face fell. 'But, I mean, I had planned. .'

'Table for two, bed for three? Very sorry, my dear, but that's your particular fantasy.' She pulled harder on her hand, slipping the other under her sash to the hard lump of her derringer. It remained there, when he released her fingers. 'The Prancing Bitch is offering a free first-time, they'd probably give you a very good discount on that.'

'You lying slut!' Amazement struggled with rage. 'You. . you promised- You lying whore!'

'Tsk, tsk, my poor Helmt, all your life at Court and you believed a promise? And the word you're looking for, under the circumstances, is 'tease,' not 'whore.'' Suzette watched a baffled curiosity overcome anger, for a moment: that surprises me, she thought distantly.

'Why?' he said.

'Well, you see, Helmt, I don't need you any more, that's all.'

He jerked the dog's head around and heeled it savagely; with a whining bark, it sprang across the pavement, nearly running down the sweepers. Suzette made a moue and tapped a finger against her lips.

'A mistake, perhaps,' she murmured. 'But occasional fits of truthfulness are so enjoyable.'

* * *

'Everyone's here,' Gerrin said, as Suzette slipped through the door and seated herself at the foot of the table.

Raj glanced around the table. The Companions had grown to nine, not counting him or his wife: Gerrin Staenbridge and Foley, of course, and the Gruder brothers. Another Lieutenant from Kaltin Gruder's Company, Mekkle Thiddo by name, Raj and he were cousins of a sort and near-neighbors back home; two gentlemen-rankers from Thiddo's platoon, Holdor Tennan and Fitzin Sherrek, younger sons of bonnet-squires who were clients of the Whitehall family.

'M'lewis isn't, ser,' da Cruz said. Several of the others winced. Descotters were less class-conscious than most, nobody objected to da Cruz's membership; he came of respectable yeoman stock. The scruffy trooper was something else again, even gentry from the Bufford parish district of the County were not well-regarded.

'Probably out picking pockets,' Kaltin muttered.

'I hope so,' his brother Evrard said: both of them were sensible enough to listen to their noncoms, but a platoon leader was closer to the enlisted men's grapevine. 'If he's just drunk. . well, sober he could talk a Renunciate Nun flat. Drunk he wouldn't know a sow from his sister, and either would do willing or no.'

'He's on an errand for me,' Raj said, seating himself at the log ebony table. There was a wall fountain behind him, a blaze of colored tile against the stark white marble of the walls-and a useful plashing that made it unlikely anyone listening at a peephole would get much of a quiet conversation. 'Now, Companions, we've got a situation here.'

'Arserapin' right,' da Cruz said. An informal etiquette had already established itself for these meetings, rather different from the one they used when wearing their official hats. 'What keyed me, was the way the townsfolk were poppin' off t' welcomes us. Especial the Messers, they was sweatin' happy to see us, but commonfolk, too. The whores is givin' it away. Only reason fer that I kin see, they're certain-sure the ragheads was comin' over the wall, real soon now, least we didn't stop 'em.'

'My thoughts exactly,' Raj said. Sweet Spirit, I could use a bath and a neckrub and twenty hours' sleep in a bed.

Gerrin Staenbridge frowned. 'This town's as close to impregnable as any its size can be,' he said in a slightly pedantic tone; siegecraft was a hobby of his. 'It's only fallen, what, twice-'

'Three times, once in a civil war,' Foley interjected.

'Thank you, Barton,' Gerrin said. 'To continue, there's over fifty fixed pieces on the walls-muzzle loaders, but good ones-and a garrison of, what, three battalions of regular infantry.' There were a few snorts at that. The foot soldiers of the Civil Government were conscripted from the peons of the central Counties around East Residence, and even the barbarian mercenaries who made up a third of the army ranked higher. 'I know, I know, but they are trained soldiers with Armory guns. If all they have to do is sit in bunkers and fire out the slits at the ragheads as they run up, well, really now.'

At least they didn't send them down here with flintlocks, Raj thought, tapping at his pad with a graphite stick. Not uncommon, in the interior Counties; the trade guns made for export to the savages were much cheaper. A knock sounded; Evrard sprang up to open it with his hand on his pistol, and Antin M'lewis stepped through. He slid into a seat down the table, grinning through his bad teeth and looking somehow furtive even now. It's amazing. When he's trying to cheat somebody, butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It's when he relaxes you put your hand on your valuables.

Kaltin took up the argument. 'And even if the garrison isn't worth much, there's forty thousand people within the walls; you saw the way it's built.' A maze of laneways, twisting and turning between blank stone walls. 'This is a rich city, too, with a secure water supply. Holy Avatars of the Spirit-'

Raj forced himself not to wince; technically, that term included him, now. I am not worthy! something cried within himself. He forced it down, like the tiredness and the sore butt that came of too long in the saddle.

'— you'd need twenty thousand men and a siege train to take this place.'

'M'lewis?' Raj said. 'What did you find?'

'Best dam' party I ever missed on m'own, Messers,' he said. 'Couldn't pay fer booze 'r cooze if yer wanted to. . Beggin' yer pardon, Lady. Anyways, I finds out what yer wanted.'

Raj nodded. 'I got suspicious when I saw a beggar saluting us from an alleyway,' he said dryly. 'More remarkable than girls with flowers, if less sightly.'

'Bought 'im a drink, ser. Well, passed on one I's given, loik. Private in the 23rd Foot; they's here, with t'81st Rifles an' the Kelden County Foot.'

'Wait a minute,' Kaltin said. 'Those aren't the units that were supposed to be here!'

'Ay-up. Moved in last month, ser. Ain't gots they land grants settled yet, either. Sellin' they uniforms, beggin', workin' at that'ere cotton mill, which is worse to my way a-

Another knock at the door. The Companions exchanged glances, and Kaltin and his brother bracketed the entranceway. Foley reached over his shoulder for the shotgun in its leather scabbard and drew it, clicking the breach open for a second and snapping it shut, then laying the weapon in his lap under the table.

Raj was lighting a cigarette as Muzzaf Kirpatik walked through the opened door and threw himself on his knees. That startled the Gruder brothers, but not so much that they did not seat the muzzles of their revolvers in his ears and half-carry him forward to their commander's end of the table. Hands plucked his weapons away as they moved, frisking him thoroughly. The pepperpot revolver, two derringers, a long knife from one boot, a stiletto punch-dagger down the collar of his robe. . Indeed, a man of affairs, Raj thought.

'Forgive me, lord,' the local said brokenly; the singsong southern accent was more noticeable, and he tried to bend his head to the marble tiles of the floor.