Conqueror

With t'gun, all I could do 'd be ter bring four thousand barbs down on me head. Jist noise an' temptation, onna sneak loik this.'

Spirit. Then again, he'd probably have drunk and fucked himself into an early grave by now if he'd retired to rusticate on the new estate. Certainly the other Messers wouldn't accept him socially there, a stranger of common birth. His sons, probably, when he got around to having them, but not him. And it would be dull.

Raj stepped up and gripped forearms. 'Careful and slow, M'lewis,' he said. 'Don't let them hear you.'

The snaggled teeth showed in a grin, and he offered a fist to slap-a trifle familiar perhaps, but then, what could you do to a man on a suicide mission?

'Nao clumpin' barb'll hear this mither's chile, ser,' he said.

His bare feet were noiseless on the plastic. The soft cold of it was like nothing he'd ever touched as he walked forward and down, crouching.

* * *

Raj Whitehall was motionless beside his dog. Less bound by need than the man, Horace shifted uneasily from foot to foot to foot, whining slightly. His hand soothed the animal automatically, gauntleted fingers scritching in the slight ruff at the back of the neck, just forward of the saddlebow. Other dogs shifted and murfled in the darkness, two kilometers from the main gates of Lion City. Fifteen thousand men waited, gripping their rifles or the ladders, wondering if the next hour would bring a ladle of burning pitch in the face, a limb lost, eyes, genitals, whatever their particular dread might be. The air was full of the smell of rank sweat and dog, men and animals both full of knowledgeable fear and suppressed eagerness.

Everyone thought it was payback time. Everyone, Spirit help them, thought Messer Raj would pull another miracle out of the hat.

It was full dark; neither moon would be up for another hour. Watchlights burned on the walls of Lion City, but experience had taught them that Skinners could shoot out any reflector-backed searchlight from a comfortable range. . and the men manning it.

It was also long after he should have received word from Gerrin. When the dispatch rider reined in, he forced himself not to whirl.

'Ser,' the man said.

Something's wrong.

'Spit it out,' Raj said. Nightmares-the 5th destroyed in a trap, burning pitch and tallow pumped down on them in the tunnel while they died helpless-

'Ser,' the rider said, his eyes fixed over the general's head. 'Captain Suharez reports. . beggin' yer pardon, ser. . Cap'n reports the 5th has retreated from the tunnel.'

Raj stalked over to the rider and slapped the muzzle of his dog. 'Down,' he said. The animal crouched obediently. That put his eyes on a level with the man's.

'From Captain Suharez?' he said, in a calm voice. The man flinched. That was the second-ranked company commander in the unit.

'Yesser. Colonel Staenbridge an', an' some members went beyond the second dip-there was 'n other, ser, ten meters beyond t'one Lieutnant M'lewis found. The rest. . the rest turned back, ser.'

Raj pivoted on his heel, ignoring the dispatch rider. 'Major Bellamy,' he said. Wide eyes stared at him out of darkness as he stepped over Horace's saddle. 'Up, boy. . Major Bellamy, you will accompany me with the 2nd Cruisers. Major Gruder, you're in charge of the gate. Colonel Menyez, you're in overall command. Await the signal, then proceed as planned.'

He kicked heels into his mount. Horace leaped forward, and Ludwig Bellamy and the bannerman of the 2nd fell in beside him. Behind them the massed paws of the 2nd Mounted Cruisers beat a tattoo through the night.

* * *

The ravine where the old sewer outlet surfaced was packed with men; the dogs were crouched a few hundred meters further north, together with those of the ex-Squadrone soldiers Raj had brought. He could see the 5th only as a shadowy presence, a sullen mass that recoiled slightly as he walked up to them.

'You retreated without orders?' he asked the Captain.

'Yes, sir,' the man said. He was braced to attention and staring ahead.

At least he isn't offering excuses, Raj thought. He was moving carefully, very carefully so that he wouldn't shatter the ice surface of control that bound him.

'Ser,' a voice from the dark mass said. 'Ser. . 'tis damnation there! 'T road to t'Starless-'

'Silence in the ranks,' Raj said. His voice was as clear and precise as water is when it falls over a ledge of stone, before the spray and thunder. 'You,' he went on to the unit bannerman. 'Did you turn back?'

'No ser,' the man said.

He was a grizzled veteran, a thirty-year man; carrying the battalion standard was a jealously guarded privilege, open only to men three times awarded the Gold of Valor.

'Colonel Staenbridge, he ordered t'color party to remain here. Seein's t'colors wouldn't fit, ser.'

'Then you may carry the colors back to the central Star shrine in camp,' Raj said. 'Where they will be safe from men unworthy of them.'

A low moan broke from the assembled ranks of the 5th, and the bannerman sobbed, tears running down his leathery cheeks as he turned smartly and trotted for his dog. Nor was he the only one weeping.

'Tears are for women,' Raj went on in the same glass-smooth tone. 'Senior Captain Suharez, take this unit and report to Major Gruder, placing yourself under his orders. For whatever tasks he judges it fit for.'

Suharez' face might have been carved from dark wood. 'Yes, sir.' He saluted and wheeled.

Raj turned toward the tunnel mouth. Behind him there was a forward surge among the ranks of the 5th Descott. He wheeled again, flinging out his hand and pointing silently back towards the main force. An officer broke his saber over his knee, and the men fell into their ranks and trotted forward behind Suharez.

Faint starlight sheened on the eyes and teeth of the 2nd Cruisers. Ludwig Bellamy stepped forward and saluted smartly.

'I'm ready to lead my men through, sir,' he said.

'No, Major,' Raj said. 'You'll bring up the rear. Nobody is to turn back, understood?'

He raised his voice slightly, pitching it to carry in the heavy-breathing hush. 'As I have kept faith with you, so you with me. Follow; quietly, and in order.'

Raj turned and stooped, entering the tunnel.

* * *

The men's hobnailed boots clattered on the surface of the pipe; the sound was dulled, as if they were walking on soft wood, but the iron left no scratches on the plastic of the Ancients. The surface beneath the fingers of his left hand might have been polished marble, except for the slight trace of greasy slickness. There was old dirt and silt in the very bottom of the circular tube, and it stank of decay; floodwater must run down from the gutters of Lion City and through this pipe when the floods were very high.

Behind him the rustle and clank of equipment sounded, panting breath, an occasional low-voiced curse in Namerique. Earth Spirit cultists didn't have the same myth of a plastic-fined tube to Hell; the center of the earth- This Earth-was their paradise. This particular tunnel was intimidating as Hell to anyone, though. Particularly to men reared in the open air, there was a touch of the claustrophobe in most dog-and-gun men. There certainly was in him, because every breath seemed more difficult than the last, an iron hoop tightening around his chest

this is not an illusion, Center said helpfully. the oxygen content of the air is dropping because airflow is inadequate in the presence of over six hundred men. this will not be a serious problem unless the force is halted for a prolonged period.

Oh, thank you, Raj thought.

Even then, he felt a grim satisfaction at what Army discipline had made of last year's barbarian horde. Vicious children, he thought. Vicious grown-up children whose ancestors had shattered civilization over half a continent-not so much in malice as out of simple inability to imagine doing anything different. Throwing the pretty baubles into the air and clapping their hands to see them smash, heedless of the generations of labor and effort that went into their making. Thirteen-year-olds with adults' bodies. . but they can