Conqueror

well.

The corporal waved the bottle and sack, which clinked like silverware. 'Guess these fuckin' barbs figured they'd get drunk and laid and get paid for it too, El-T,' he said cheerfully. A chance to beat up on cavalrymen was a rare treat in a footsoldier's life. 'Nobody else upstairs. Looks like they were just gettin' started, but this might not be the first house.'

A voice called from the rear of the house. 'Door to the alley's broke in, sir.'

'Toryez, go get the medic, fast,' the officer said. 'Sergeant, patch the civilians. Get these shits trussed.'

Soldiers pulled lengths of cord out of their belts and tied the prisoners' hands before them, then immobilized them by shoving the scabbards of their swords through the crooks of their elbows behind their backs. One of the prisoners began mumbling in Namerique at increasing volume, but the sergeant silenced him with a swift kick between the legs.

'Outside,' Pinya said, jerking a thumb. 'Roust out the neighbors, show 'em the dead barb and the prisoners so they'll sound the alarm next time.'

Proclamations were one thing, but example was the best way of demonstrating that the Civil Government commanders really were ready to defend the locals against their own men.

He turned to the civilians. Both the men looked as if they would live, although it was touch-and-go for the younger man if the medic didn't arrive soon. The middle-aged woman looked dazed, and the housemaid suddenly conscious of her nakedness; she snatched up a towel and tried to make it do far too much.

'Hablai usti Sponglishi?' Pinya said. Blank looks rewarded him. Then the girl stuck her head around the open front door and spoke:

'I do,' she said. 'A little.'

Her accent was heavy, but the words were understandable. 'What will happen to those men?' she asked.

'Crucifixion,' Pinya said bluntly. 'We'll need your statements. And I want you to translate for me to your neighbors.'

The girl looked at him with glowing eyes. He straightened and sheathed the sword. 'Names?' he began.

* * *

'Heneralissimo Supremo, we yielded our great city to save it, not to see it destroyed!' the head of the Governor's Council said.

He was standing. All the petitioners were, except for the Priest Paratier, who'd been given a chair at the foot of the table. Raj sat at its head, watching them over steepled fingers with his elbows propped on the arms of his armchair. Motionless troopers of the 5th Descott lined two walls of the long chamber; the fireplace on the inner wall was burning low, hissing less loudly than the mingled rain and sleet on the outer windows. Suzette sat at his right, with clerks taking down the conversation.

'You yielded,' Raj said softly, 'because you knew what happened to the last city that tried to resist the army of the Sovereign Mighty Lord Barholm. The army also of the Spirit of Man.'

A cleric leaned forward; he was red-faced with anger, but throttled his voice back when Paratier laid a restraining finger on his sleeve.

'Heneralissimo, you implied that you would be moving on to fight the Brigade, not staying here and making us the focus of their counter-attack.'

Raj smiled, a cold feral expression. 'No, Reverend Arch-Sysup, your own wishes were father to that thought. I said nothing of the kind.'

'Peace, my son,' Paratier said. His voice had faded with age, but he adjusted his style to suit rather than trying to force it. The whisper was more compelling than a shout. 'Yet would not the Spirit of Man grieve if the priceless treasures within these walls, the relics and records of ancient times, were destroyed by the fury of the heretic and the barbarian?'

Raj inclined his head. 'Precisely why I don't intend to allow the barbarians within the walls, Your Holiness,' he said briskly. 'As you may have noticed, we've been making energetic preparations to receive them.'

'Throwing the city into chaos, you mean, Heneralissimo Whitehall,' a civilian magnate said. 'Overthrowing good order and discipline and encouraging all sorts of riot and tumult.'

The cost of his rings and the diamond stickpin in his cravat would have kept a company of cavalry for a month, and the jewelled buckles of his shoes were the purchase-price of remounting them.

Raj smiled openly. 'Messer Fedherikos, I think you'll admit that my troops are quite disciplined. So I presume you mean we've been employing the common people of the city on necessary works of defense, and worse still paying them in cash and on time. They've shown great zeal in the cause of the Civil Government of Holy Federation.'

His eyes raked the petitioners. Few of them met his gaze; Paratier's eyes did; they were as calm and innocent as a child's-or a carnosauroid's.

'Do you gentlemen suppose your own commons might react to attempted treachery the way those of Lion City did after their community returned to the Civil Government?'

The naked threat clanged to the ground between them like a roundshot.

Raj's voice continued like a metronome. 'Of course, there's no possibility of treachery here. We're all loyal sons of Holy Federation Church.' Well, one of the Sysups was a daughter of Holy Church, but no matter. 'And since nobody is considering treachery, I'm showing my trust for the citizens of Old Residence by declaring a general mobilization of the populace. For labor service, or for the militia which I'm forming-to include all private armed forces in the city.'

There was a shocked intake of breath. That would leave the Church and the magnates helpless. . helpless, among other things, against a popular uprising unless Raj's troops guarded them. Also helpless to deliver the city to Ingreid the way they'd delivered it to Raj.

these persons will follow instructions until situation changes drastically, Center said. Outlines glowed around most of the petitioners-most importantly, around Paratier. Red highlights marked others, these individuals will resist necessary measures, probability 94 % ±3.

Which of them are truly loyal? Raj enquired.

probability of any of indicated subjects remaining loyal to the civil government unless under threat or directly coerced is too low to be meaningfully calculated.

Exactly what I expected. The only difference is that some have enough guts to be actively treasonous and some don't.

you learn quickly, raj whitehall.

No, I've lived in East Residence, he thought sourly.

Raj noted those marked as most dangerous; best detain those immediately. One or two flinched as his eye stopped at their faces.

'My son, my son,' Paratier intoned. 'I shall pray for you. Avoid the sin of rashly assuming that your program is debugged. The Spirit has given you great power; do not in your pride refuse to copy to your system the wisdom others have been granted by long experience.'

Raj stood, leaning forward on his palms. 'Your holiness, messers, I am the Sword of the Spirit of Man. The Spirit has chosen me for Its military business, not as a priest. In spiritual matters, I will of course be advised by His Holiness. In military affairs, I expect you all to do the will of the Spirit-Who speaks through me.

'And now,' he went on, 'if you'll excuse me. General Ingreid is heading this way with the whole home-levy of the Brigade, and I'm preparing for his reception.'

CHAPTER SIX

The countryside outside Old Residence had a ghostly look. Colors were the gray-brown of deep winter, leafless trees and bare vines. Nothing moved but an occasional bird, or a scuttling rabbit-sized sauroid. Raj had ordered every scrap of food and every animal within two days' hard riding brought in to Old Residence or destroyed,