Warlord

'Just don't feel rightly about it, ser,' da Cruz finished. 'Ser? Yer all right?'

Raj wiped sweat from his forehead. 'Tired and bruised, that's all,' he said, equally quietly. There was an art to pitching your voice not to carry, as needful to a soldier as the bellow that could cut through the clamor of combat. 'I don't like it either, Master Sergeant. But believe me, it's for the best,' he continued.

Da Cruz nodded slowly at the certainty in the younger man's voice. 'I'm yer man, ser,' he said. 'If you say 'tis right, 'tis right.'

Vernier's liver-spotted hand signed, a shaky scrawl of vermilion ink across the bottom of the formal parchment. Raj could see that Barholm was forcing restraint on himself as he gently guided the Governor's signet ring to the wax of the seal.

'It is done!' Barholm said, turning for a moment. 'I call on you all to witness-' his eyes raked the faces along the wall, many of them prominent men, Councillors and Ministers '-that it is done in legitimate form. His Supremacy has abdicated, and I-' the eyes blazed '-am Governor.'

Anne came to his side, bent over Vernier's shivering body. It jerked and cried out as she pulled the signet over the swollen joint.

* * *

The faint stars of the city skies were appearing by the time Barholm finished the speech; most of the hangers-on had left, and Raj and his Companions were alone with the priest-doctors and the dying Vernier. Raj could have followed the details of Barholm's address, if he had been interested enough. As it was, fragments of platitude drifted back through the tall windows: 'prosperity'. . 'Will of the Spirit'. . 'subdue the barbarians'. . A scattering of cheers. Probably Palace servants, Raj thought, then they built to a thunderous roar, that shook the building even more than the sirens had when they wailed to summon the people.

They knew Vernier was sick; they want a strong hand on the reins, in these times. Barholm strode back through the windows, brisk and calm save for the glitter in his eyes, rubbing his hands together.

'That's done,' he said. 'Now for some work, and then I have to attend that cursed banquet for the Brigade ambassadors; we're not in formal mourning yet, and then we'll have to set the date for the coronation, there has to be a quiet month coming up, the ceremonies are interminable. Now,' he continued, speaking to Raj: the soldier felt an indefinable flow of energy, as if some of the exultant triumph flowing through his master had been transferred to him. 'There's the matter of your next assignment.'

Raj's face twisted into the semblance of a smile. 'If you think the Civil Government has a use for me, Your Supremacy,' he said.

'Sir will do, in private, Raj,' Barholm said. He grinned and slapped the taller man on the shoulder. 'I've read your report, man!' he continued. 'And had the story from the other participants. Of course there'll be work for you, you're the best Dark-damned field commander I have that's trustworthy.'

Raj's jaw dropped. 'Me?' he almost squeaked. Even then, he found time to wonder: the report had been fifty close-written pages, with operational orders and figures attached. And it arrived only 12 hours ago; he's been hosting a major synod, getting this abdication scam. . ah, maneuver put together, Spirit alone knows what else-where did he find time for it?

'Actually, I'm sending you out to the frontiers again,' Barholm continued. Another man came through the doors; the Minister of Ceremonies.

'Your Supremacy,' the man said, going to his knees and putting his forehead to the floor.

'Consider it done,' Barholm said; both giving permission to rise and instructing the man not to perform the prostration on non-ceremonial occasions, standard practice for high-ranking officials.

'Your Supremacy, let me be the first to congratulate you on the blessing of the Spirit; on us as well as Your Supremacy, that we might have right guidance.'

'Yes, yes,' Barholm said with an impatient wave of the hand. Behind him the rasping wheeze continued.

'Your Supremacy, it has occurred to me-forgive your servant's presumption-that the investment ceremonies would be of unprecedented splendor, if they were attended by so many distinguished Users of the Church, as are present for the Synod.' Delicately: 'Not to mention the implications, considering the presence of the Sysup-Representative of the Priest of the Parish.'

'Good man! Excellent! Draw up a modified ceremony, emphasizing the Governor's position as supreme head of all the Church, and have it on my desk tomorrow morning.'

Barholm's head turned back to Raj, and he took up the thread of their conversation without missing a beat. 'We're. . I'm going to relieve Heartwell in Sandoral. Your next posting. . Brigadier Whitehall. Stop imitating a fish.'

Raj closed his mouth with a snap. 'But, sir-Your Supremacy, I lost.'

'Heartwell didn't even bloody try; he went down the river ten kilometers, saw a boogeyman-because there wasn't a raghead within ten days' march-and didn't stop running until he had the gates of Sandoral locked again, and for all I know the door of the closet he was hiding in, as well.' Barholm's voice was vibrant with scorn and conviction. 'You took El Djem, sent back some really impressive loot, and were then defeated by a superior army-one which outnumbered you four to one by your account, and ten to one by every other.'

I was defeated by a better general, Raj thought coldly. Well, then, I will just have to improve.

'Led by Tewfik himself,' Barholm continued. The Minister of Finance was making polite coughing noises: the Governor held up a hand in Raj's direction.

'Yes, I know. . Dokkermen, do I have to go over this with you again? We both know you're a fool, why do you insist on demonstrating it? Get one of your subordinates to explain 'limited liability' to you; in the meantime, take it from me, we'll make back the loans on railway extension many times over.' The Minister of War tried to push past. 'Yes, I'll get to that in a moment.'

He turned back to Raj. '-and managed to get some of your men out, at least, as well. Tewfik, incidentally, will not be invading the Halvardi next spring. You were right about that, and your demonstration attacks succeeded brilliantly in their primary purpose.' A grin that showed the skull beneath the square pug face. 'There's only one drawback.'

'Your-sir?'

'The Minister of Barbarians' agents have been as-' to the Minister of War, 'I said, wait. Where. . ah, yes. Jamal, the Settler himself, is going to invade us instead, with the whole Colonial field force; the Army of the North, and Tewfik's veterans from Hammamet as well.' He nodded at Raj's expression. 'Yes, right up the Drangosh Valley, it's the only practicable route. . Tewfik will be in effective command, of course.' He clapped Raj on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, you've got eight months, and I'm giving you carte blanche.'

observe.

* * *

'Ahh, I did wish to see the face of this so-valiant opponent,' the one-eyed man was saying. The one eye was brown, and the face was remarkable enough to make you forget the eyepatch with the Seal of Solomon. 'Take him away, then. We will see if he dies as well as he fought.'

The crimson-robed guards dragged Raj away, his chains galling sores that wept puss.

Chapter Twelve

'Well, fuck me,' the trooper on the observation platform of the heliograph tower said, lifting the helmet from his head and drawing a sleeve across his face.

'Not whiles there's goats in t'world, Saynchez,' the duty corporal said from below. 'Keep yer eyes open, I wants to know when the El-Tee's gettin' back.'

Fuck yer, too, Hallersen M'kintok, Trooper Billi Saynchez thought silently, settling the infinite weight of hot metal and leather-backed chain mail on his head again and pacing the two steps that took