Warlord

breechclout, wiggling and slapping their buttocks at the Muslim host.

Raj put the binoculars down, feeling blank for a second, then coughing to cover the bubble of laughter that forced its way up his throat. The men of the 5th were not trying; one by one they forced their way to a forward position to see, and collapsed hooting to the packed dirt floor of the redoubt. The laughter spread down the line and to the cavalry bunkers just behind it; he could imagine men crowded pleading around their officers for the loan of binoculars. The Colonist high command would be learning just what the Skinners thought of their martial display as well . .

'It's the first time in my life I've ever wanted to kiss a Skinner,' Gerrin wheezed, leaning against the parapet. 'So much for morale, for now.'

'I'd be jealous if I didn't feel the same way,' Foley laughed, wiping his eyes. 'You know, that's the most organized thing I've ever seen them do? Oh, shit, wait-isn't that Juluk Peypan, their chief?'

'What?' Raj looked around from the trenches to the ground before them. A lone Skinner was trotting his red- and-white hound out towards the Colonists. 'Message to both Skinner groups, no attack!' he barked; the runner hesitated, gripped his amulet and dashed away. Raj raised his binoculars. Yes, no mistaking that zigzag scar on the man's bare chest; he had his feet out of the stirrups, and his monstrous two-meter rifle casually over one shoulder.

Halfway to the enemy, the Skinner broke into a gallop that made the big ears of his mount flop like wings. He rose, stood on one foot, dropped on one side of his dog and bounced to the other, stood on his hands. . it was a dazzling display of dogsmanship, and it had certainly caught the attention of the marching Colonists, making their neat ranks falter for a second; Raj could imagine their officers' nine-thonged whips flashing. Juluk finished up by standing in the saddle and dropping backwards, then spinning on his back with his legs splayed wide. The long barrel reached out between them and vomited smoke and flame; on the hillcrest, a banner toppled as its bearer's head splashed away from the 15mm sauroid-killing bullet.

That produced a reaction; a pompom swung around and began to spit, shells cracking into the ground around the barbarian chief. He reined in with insolent calm, lighting a pipe and puffing on it, before turning to trot back to the Civil Government lines. Halfway there, he turned in the saddle and extended a clenched fist at the Colonists, shot out the middle finger and pumped the forearm back and forth before clapping heels to his hound.

'The preliminaries are over,' Raj said. 'Now we'll parlay.'

'Salaam aleyikum, amir,' Raj said carefully, bowing to Tewfik and touching brow, lips, and chest.

'And upon you, peace, Messer Brigadier Whitehall,' the Colonist prince-general replied in accented but fluent Sponglish, extending his hand. Both men ignored the elaborate formalities that were going on where Jamal met the Governor's negotiators; nothing would come of that.

They shook, looking at each other curiously. Odd, thought Raj. Center's shown him to me so many times, yet it's the first glimpse in the flesh.

'You are young for such a command,' Tewfik was saying; his hand was hard and callused in the same manner as his opponent's. There were four men behind him, mostly younger than the Colonist's thirty-five; two who looked like well-born Arabs; one who towered and showed a spiked blond beard beneath cold grey eyes; and a black almost as tall and broader. Tewfik's closest retainers, trusted men with high commands, from the richness of their use-worn weapons and the hard set of their faces. They in turn appraised the men behind him; Jorg Menyez, da Cruz, Gerrin Staenbridge, Foley.

'But you were young in El Djem, as well, and you surprised me there.' He hesitated. 'It was well of you, not to fire on our wounded from the skirmish this morning.'

'We're fighting men, there's no need to act like a jackal,' Raj replied. 'I was rather surprised myself, back in the Valley of Death. How did you get those men there so fast?'

'Is that what you call that battle? Appropriate enough. Well, if the truth be told, I was bringing my riders up for a raid on you, using El Djem as a base,' he said, with an engaging grin that lit the serious square face for a moment. Tewfik was running an experienced eye over the positions downslope as he spoke. 'Not bad,' he continued. 'But not good enough, of course. It is unfortunate for you that your Governor can never trust an able man with an army large enough to do much good.'

'I think you'll find this one amply large,' Raj replied.

'There is no God but God; all things are disposed according to the will of God.' From Tewfik it did not seem the automatic formula that it might from another man.

'And the Spirit of Man of the Stars shapes our destinies,' Raj replied with equal sincerity. 'It seems we have something in common.'

Their eyes met, turned to the Settler and the envoys of Governor Barholm.

'Indeed,' Tewfik said. 'Indeed, young kaphar.'

* * *

'You shouldn't have come,' Raj whispered into Suzette's ear. It was an hour past midnight, and they sat on the edge of the redoubt wrapped in a single cloak. She huddled closer, running her hands into the too-large sleeves of her uniform jacket. There was nobody else on the flat stretch of sandbags over timbers, except Gerrin and Foley at the far corner, standing hand in hand. That was far enough for verbal privacy, at least.

'I wanted to,' she said. 'Spirit knows, there's little enough of doing what we want, in this life.' Silence for a long moment. 'Raj, I told Falhasker the five fougasses on the left were hooked up-'

'What! The right, I said tell him the right- '

'And I told Wenner Reed that it was the five on the right.' A pause. 'Trust me.'

Raj signed. 'I do. And if I didn't, we've not got enough time to waste arguing. Not tonight.' Softly: 'There won't be much time for anything, tomorrow.'

* * *

Crack. This time the vicious bark of the pompom's explosion was followed by screams, further down the line. Raj ducked, ears ringing, as dirt blasted through the half-meter space between parapet and roof.

'Shit,' he muttered, dusting off his jacket and binoculars. Above him there was a long roar as one of the heavy guns cut loose; they were working a counterbattery shoot at the high-velocity Colonist guns on the ridge, the ones that were pounding his men's firing slits. Diminishing rumble of thunder as the huge weapon ran backward and up the curved wooden ramps behind its wheels; then a gathering return as it rolled back and stopped with a whack of anchor ropes. Ssssshhhhhhhhhhh as the gunners ran water-soaked sponges down the barrel on rams to quench any sparks.

'Reload, contact fuse, full charge,' the crew commander was shouting, voice a little shrill. The militia knew their gun well enough, they had been practicing for many years, but they were holy-day soldiers, members of some trade guild or religious cofraternity or whatever who liked to peacock in fancy uniforms once a week, not combat troops. Being shot back at was a new experience; with any luck they would concentrate on the automatic motions they had practiced, using the familiarity to distance themselves from an environment full of fear and uncertainty.

Raj peered up at the enemy line. Smoke was already dense in the valley bottom, the raw burnt-sulphur stink of it clawing at the lining of the throat and making his eyes water. There was more up there, where the enemy guns flashed through the man-made murk, and more still rising and thinning toward a sky where the stars of dawn were just now fading out. Then there was movement behind the guns; a waving ripple, as men marched in column through the artillery positions and down the slopes. He focused his glasses. Dismounted cavalry, they had scimitars at their sides rather than the short chopping-blades the Settler's infantry wore. More and more of them, five battalions at least, they would be the first wave. The guns behind fell silent briefly, muzzles shifting, and then the firing recommenced. All at the left flank of his V, and the columns of marching men were slanting in that direction, too.

'Well, now we know who sold out, don't we?' Suzette said, in a voice as flat as the blued metal of her carbine-barrel; she was speaking loudly, to carry over the continuous roar of gunfire.

'You know, I'm glad it wasn't Falhasker,' Raj said. I hate his guts, but he's something of a man, at least.

'Frankly, I don't give much of a damn,' Suzette replied.