Warlord

Raj blew smoke. 'It might be easier if I knew for what,' he said.

'I have betrayed you-I have betrayed the Spirit of Man of the Stars, may I be damned to. . well, forgiven-I have betrayed the Civil Government.'

Kaltin Gruder thumbed back the hammer of his revolver. 'Spying for the ragheads?' he said, in a voice as metallic as that sound.

'No, no! The Tribune arranged with. .' a visible internal struggle'. . with authorities in East Residence, I think the Chancellor. .'

'Tzetzas,' the Companions chorused.

'Watch your language,' Suzette observed.

'. . to transfer the garrison. It is the land grants, you see, until title is cleared the rents are still collected but the soldiers get nothing, nothing!'

Raj nodded sickly. There was never enough money in the central government Fisc to pay the foot soldiers directly, not and keep the more important cavalry units supplied. . not to mention the mercenaries from outside the Civil Government, who wanted good hard cash in sound coin, no bank drafts please. Revenue melted on the way from the Counties to the capital, and on the way back out for disbursements; instead, the infantrymen were each assigned a farm. Worked by tenants, so that they had time to drill, although many ended up spending more time helping in the fields than marching. If the unit was transferred, the soldiers were supposed to be settled into equivalent holdings immediately. Even when it worked the way it was supposed to morale dropped hideously every time an infantry regiment moved.

Kaltin was nodding thoughtfully. 'You know, one of the infantry Captains was wearing a uniform coat tailored from Azanian torofib.' That was a fiber spun to line its nests by a burrowing pseudoinsect that lived in the savannahs inland from the Zanj coast. 'The real thing. He didn't buy that on an infantry officer's pay. I couldn't afford it, myself.' And the Gruder estates pastured ten thousand head of pedigreed Angoras.

'But. .' Evrard burst out, 'that's. . that's despicable!' The others looked at him pityingly; he had been out from Descott less than a year.

Gerrin shrugged. 'That's Tzetzas,' he amplified.

Muzzaf nodded, tears streaking his face. 'The Legate suggested it, but he's the Chancellor's appointee. That was before Tewfik moved, nobody thought there would be more than raids on the outlying settlements.'

'What was your share?'

'I. . acted as agent, to collect the rents. Five percent to me; out of. . three thousand silver FedCreds. A quarter to the officers, and the rest to the Legate, I don't know how he split that with the Chancellor.' Brokenly: 'My lord, I did not know. . it seemed that all the others were doing it, and they said Komar would still be safe. The Spirit of Man and of the Stars and the Civil Government have been good to me, my lord: now I see you are Their true servant. I have served a corrupt man in corruption-let me serve you in honesty!'

'Merida,' Raj said quietly. Shit. 'So much for our secure base. How many actual troops are there in this town?'

He looked at Muzzaf: a man of mixed blood, probably bitterly determined to make his loyalty unquestioned, as many such were. Who could blame him, for following the lead the Legate and Chancellor gave? An able man as well, invaluable if his remorse was lasting and not a mere fit. .

'Ahh, there is the Legate's personal guard, mercenaries from Asaura County.' A few snorts; that was in the mountains north and east of the plateau-and-canyon country of Descott, part of the Civil Government only by courtesy. The County Legate of Descott was chosen by the area's gentry, in practice if not theory; the County Legate of Asaura was appointed in East Residence and stayed there, if he had any sense. Even Descotters considered Asaurans backward, but they were much in demand as elite infantry.

'Well, good enough fighters, except that when they're drunk, which is usually, they cut every throat in sight and rape the corpses,' Mekkle Thiddo said. 'How many of them?'

'About a hundred. Then, there is the town militia, but they are for manning the guns, only. And one of the infantry Captains, he has been maintaining two hundred of his men at his own expense, I think that the others forced him to go along with the billeting scheme by threats. And perhaps as many again, among the retainers of the Messers in town, but they are not organized.'

'Not nearly enough to hold the walls,' Raj said. Heads turned toward him, eyes full of unspoken questions. And

observe.

* * *

— he was looking through his own viewpoint, seeing the hands on the table before him move as they would when he shrugged.

'Well,' he said/might say, 'there's nothing we can do about it but pray; the Legate's in charge here. We'll just have to be sure we don't need a secure base, let the enemy worry about that-'

POM-POM-POM-the quickfirer shells slashed into the mass of screaming humans and animals that jammed the gates of Komar. It was dark, lit only by the moons and the fires that were turning the buildings of the White City crimson and black. White-hot metal slashed dogs and oxen and men into things that fell twitching, to be trampled underfoot; others were pushed off the edge of the bridge, into a moat whose bottom bristled with angle-iron stakes.

Raj was halfway through the gates himself, blood from a scalp wound coating one side of his face in a glistening sheet. 'Rally!' he shouted, beating at fugitives with the flat of his saber, forms in the blue of the 5th and the white jackets of the 2nd Gendarmerie, or the dun robes of peasants. The noise overrode everything he could say; everything but the triumphant roar of the Colonist troops as they scrambled down into the moat on ropes and raised the scaling ladders against the inner side. A cannon fired from the ramparts, another, loads of grapeshot cutting paths of moaning, twitching meat through the bright-clad ranks. But they were too few, and only the odd rifle cast its muzzle flame beside them.

'Ul-ul-ul-Allahuu Akbar!' The shrieks were like files on stone, thousandfold, as the soldiers of Islam poured over the walls in a flood, a flood whose surf shone in the firelight with eyes and teeth and the edges of their scimitars.

A jump; morning, that would have been bright if the smoke had not lain so heavy. A pile of bodies was growing in the center of the plaza before the Tribune's palace; Colonist infantry were pitching new loads onto the growing heap. One was Barton Foley, his eyes wide and a gaping cut from ear to ear that nearly reached the backbone. The foot soldier at his shoulders giggled, calling attention to it:

'Hai, this one has had the hallal, brothers!' he said, giggling. The ritual throat cutting which the Shari'ah, the Road to a Watering Place, prescribed for animals slaughtered for meat. 'Would any feast on this tender dainty?'

A mounted officer leaned over and lashed a nine-thonged whip on the soldier's back, bringing a yelp of pain.

'Silence, you blasphemous son of ten Berber pigs and a syphilitic whore!' he shouted. There was a huge crash from the temple across the plaza, as the great silver starburst was thrown down and shattered its way through the roof to a chorus of jeers. The officer looked up with a chill satisfaction, then down at survivors of the 5th lined up against the palace; two of them supported a half-fainting Raj, with bandages swathed around his head.

'You kaphar dogs have seen,' the officer said, waving his lash over the burning city, 'that there is no strength in shirk, idolatry. Indeed there is no God but God. Which of you will renounce your idols and embrace the Faith?' Glares and silence. 'As God wills. These are strong men, they will work well in the mines-wait,' he continued, as the soldiers began to prod them away. 'That one.' He pointed at Suzette. 'She will be comely, once she puts some flesh on her bones. Cover her face from the sight of men and take her to my quarters.'

* * *

observe:

* * *

— he was looking through his own viewpoint, seeing the hands on the table before him move as they would when he shrugged.