Warlord

his flesh. 'They'll run. . from their own memories. Why do you think I allowed them a truce, yesterday? They spent four hours in hell, then ten picking up the results and burying them.'

He drew his pistol; Horace had been led up to the edge of the redoubt, whining with eagerness after a day spent bridle-chained to the floor of a bunker.

* * *

'Fucking Tewfik,' Raj said. I've got to stop that. 'Damned if I don't like the man,' he continued.

One of the 75's beside him on the ridge crashed, and a spout of water flashed up white and black beside the giant bridge. It had been an impressive structure under construction; from the hills above its terminus on the western shore it was even more majestic. A blossom of flame came from the entrenchments on the eastern bank, a slow earthquake rumble that ended in a massive gout of dirt on the plain below. The surface of the road across the Drangosh was red with fleeing Colonist soldiers, most in disorder; the shrinking semicircle around the head of the bridge traded slamming volleys with Civil Government cavalry who had pursued them all day.

'Why-' Menyez began, then withdrew a little distance to cough his lungs free. For this he had been willing to ride a dog, counting a week's illness a small price to pay. '-do you say so?' he continued, face red and flushed.

'Because he wasn't concerned with anything but getting as many of his men out as he could, once there wasn't a chance of turning things around. Not even his baggage train.' The 5th guarded that now, with a picked band of Companions about certain heavy chests. Not M'lewis, who was here; there was no point in pushing a man too far. 'Too bad for him he has to work for that butcher Jamal,' Raj continued, sighing.

I thought victory was supposed to bring triumph, he thought. Maybe I'm just too tired; all I want is Suzette and a bath and bed for a week. . sleeping the first two days.

'Eh, mun ami!' Juluk Peypan was in high good humor. 'Jey ahz un caddaw per tuh!'

A gift? Raj thought. The sun was almost down, the banks of the river in enough shade to make the muzzle-flashes brighter than reflected sunlight; the thousand and one details of administration marched through his mind like weary troops. Oh, well, it's certainly better than defeat, he mused.

'Yes, I gots this for you!' the Skinner continued, grinning from ear to ear as he reached into a bag tied to his saddle.

Jamal's teeth were showing as well, but Raj would have judged the expression one of surprise. It was difficult to tell, since much of one side of the face was missing.

Chapter Sixteen

'Well, it's a little different from the last time, isn't it?' Foley said, pausing before one of the wall mirrors in the steamboat's lounge. His Captain's uniform was immaculate, the chain mail of the epaulets matching the mirror polish of the hook where his left hand had been. The stump was actually still a little tender for it, it had only been a month or so, but appearances had to be kept up on a visit to court.

'All relative,' Raj replied abstractedly, watching out the window as the multicolored lights of East Residence swam by; the Palace was lit like day, new arc-lights throughout the grounds. The humid air felt soft on his skin, after the dryness of the southern border, but his gut tensed again; fear, different from the scrotum-raising tension of combat, but fear nevertheless. 'We got a little more time, but then again, we won.'

'This time,' Menyez said, laying down his book. 'Is he really planning to send us to retake the Southern Territories?' A pause. 'You know, my family originally came from there? We had estates around Port Murchison, back when: got out just before the Squadron took the city.' Another pause. 'They can keep it, frankly, as far as I'm concerned.'

'Well, that will be the Governor's decision, won't it?' Suzette said neutrally. She was frowning as she adjusted the court dress; not formal, the official reception would not be until tomorrow, but it was unaccustomed after so many weeks in riding clothes or uniforms.

'Maybe it's Tzetzas who wanted us back,' Foley continued. 'He's going to have Raj sent to the frying pole for not turning over all Jamal's pay chests. Remember that message he sent when he found out you'd ordered half invested for life pensions to the disabled?'

''Fiscally irregular,' I believe the phrase was,' Muzzaf said; the Komarite was sitting at one of the lounge desks, carefully blotting his pen on a scrap of paper. His new northern-style civilian trousers and jacket were Azanian silk themselves, and a ruby stud glowed in his cravat. 'Shall I tell Messer Gruder our journey was uneventful?' he continued, finishing the letter.

'Tell Kaltin to stay flat on his back, for another four months or so,' Gerrin Staenbridge said, stretching cat- content. A bullet through the inner thigh and a fractured legbone were no joke, especially after a bad infection. Of course, another inch to the right and Captain Gruder would have been the last of the Graders, whether he survived or not. 'He's used up about all his luck as it is. . ' He glanced east, toward Sandoral. 'You know, I hate to have loose ends, and I'm a little anxious leaving someone bedridden in charge back there; did they ever find that wog who murdered Reed, for example, what was his name, Abdullah?'

'No,' Suzette said, in a tone even more detached; they all looked over at her. The shuttered, unreadable manner seemed to be inversely proportional to the distance from Court.

'Probably intended to disorganize the militia for the assault, had they won,' Gerrin observed.

'Probably,' Raj agreed. Suzette's eyes flickered to his, and then away.

'Well, I'll be damned!' Menyez exclaimed, from the dockside window. There was a blast from the whistle, and a slight jar as the boat was warped in to the dock. Trumpets sounded. 'The 2nd Gendarmerie is providing our escort!'

'Half-Ass Stanson himself?'

'For the Spirit's sake, watch that,' Raj laughed. 'I hear he's recruiting a better class of thug, these days.' The hundred-or-so survivors of the 2nd's mad-dash retreat from the Valley of Death had learned something, at least. Not least a strong determination never to leave the capital again, from what his correspondents in the Palace said.

* * *

'You were planning on seeing the Governor at once?' Stanson said, leaning back against the cushions on the other side of the coach.

Raj blinked, glancing aside at Des Poplanich. It was irregular that his old friend's brother should have come to meet them with the escort, being persona extremely non grata at Court, and the way Stanson had insisted on taking Raj alone in the lead coach was even more suspicious.

'Well, yes, of course,' Raj said, suddenly conscious of the pistol at his side and the sword lying across his lap.

Don't be ridiculous, he told himself, glancing out the window. A crowd was leaving a theater, laughing women in gowns and feathered hats and jewels, men in brilliant uniforms handing them up into light town coaches, lacy things of crystal and steel and glass. The bright gaslights glittered on the jewels and metalwork, the marble of the buildings, the embroidered liveries of slaves who held the bridles of coach teams whose coats were brushed to a shine as perfect as the ladies' wigs. Maxiluna was full, hovering over the palace; the streets were loud with the sound of iron wheels on the cobbles, the cries of pushcart-vendors. Nothing's going to happen; except a lot of tedious parades and speeches, when the troops get here. And maybe a war next year, but the Southern Territories are our rightful possession.

He glanced back; Des seemed embarrassed, but there was a bright tension to Stanson's posture. Raj remembered the way he had handled his pistols in the surprise attack last year, like extensions of his hands; this was Stanson's home territory, and here he was as much at home as Raj was on a battlefield with a clear enemy in front of him.

'It would really be better. . very much better,' Stanson said quietly, 'if you would send a message saying you