"Shall we sit?" Rick asked.
"Thank you." Ganton took one of the chairs.
"Wine or tea?" Rick asked.
"Wine, but it is not right that you-"
"I have no fear for my dignity," Rick said. He poured a goblet of wine and a large mug of tea and brought them to the table. The boy's nervous, Rick thought.
"I think we have not been alone since I came of age," Ganton said. He smiled thinly. "Nor do my advisors approve now."
Why would they? Last thing any public official needs is to find out his sovereign is cutting deals the civil service doesn't know about. "It is good to see you. You look well."
"Thank you. As do you." He looked nervously around.
"The room is safe, Majesty," Rick said. "My soldiers personally removed the scribes Lord Ajacias had set to listen to us, and now they guard the passageway behind that picture."
"I see. Is that not a treason?"
"Only if you wish it to be."
"But the law-"
Ganton seemed very serious, and Rick suppressed a chuckle. "Majesty, law and justice may be served when there has been a crime that harms someone. Here there has been no harm, and thus the matter of treason may be left to expediency and advantage."
"Do you see advantage in accusing Ajacias?"
"Not at present," Rick said. "He seems popular with his knights and villeins. Who would replace him?"
"My question exactly," Ganton said. "Then that is settled."
There was a long awkward silence.
"Lord Rick," Ganton said. "The banquet last night was splendid. The guards, and the star warriors, all were magnificent-"
"But?" Rick prompted.
"But there were questions. Some asked-some asked if the starmen were truly loyal to me," Ganton said with a rush, "And though I assure them they are, though I assure them you are loyal, though I believe this with all my heart, still will there be doubts."
Rick frowned. Just what was eating the kid? "I will not remind you of the proofs we have already given," Rick said. "You must know them all."
"Aye," Ganton said. "And yet still are there doubts! But-it came to me at the banquet. There is a way. If you could-if you could give me a star weapon. A small magic, not the large. The weapon that Lady Tylara used to kill Lord Parsons. And binoculars," Ganton continued. "A different kind of magic. Together they would show-they would show that you do not fear to have your Wanax armed in your presence!"
"Um," Rick said. Oh, boy! The trouble is, it's not unreasonable. Not the way he looks at it, not the way his Council will see it.
"I can pay," Ganton said. "I would not expect you to take the personal equipment of one of your warriors, but perhaps one would sell for much gold?"
Hell's bells, there's half a dozen would sell every goddam thing they've got if Mason and Elliot didn't hold equipment checks every ten-day, Rick thought. And I'm not sure some of 'em haven't sold gear already. We never did have a complete inventory of personal weapons and equipment.
"This is no small request," Rick said.
"I know."
"By God, I think you do know," Rick said. "But let's be certain. You ask that I place my life-that of any of my soldiers-in your hands. Not just in law, but in plain fact. Wait-I would not interrupt lightly. I know that I have already done this, and deliberately. I do not keep a large bodyguard, I travel with the Court rather than stay in my stronghold of Dravan. But what I know may not be so plain to my soldiers. You ask that I show them that I trust you with their lives."
"Aye. A great favor to ask, yet one I think necessary, if I am truly to be Wanax of Drantos."
No question about that. Which means you've given me a decision to make. And you know that, too. Meanwhile, we're making changes everywhere. Triphammers and water mills. Paper and ink. Deep plows. Fertilizer.
"It is not a decision lightly to be made," Rick said. "I must take counsel."
"But you will consider the matter?"
"I will-"
"Captain!" Mason's voice came from beyond the door.
What the hell? "With your permission, Majesty?"
"I confess as much curiosity as you, my lord."
"Come in, Mason."
Art Mason came in quickly. Morrone followed before anyone could stop him. "Messengers, Cap'n," Mason said in English. "From Murphy, up on the plateau. Peasant boys. They brought a parchment, but they've already told everybody in the castle. Horse archers from the high desert, Westmen. They attacked the wizard train. Killed Lafe Reznick and wounded Ski, chopped up a couple of villages, killed the local borderer baron. Everybody in the castle knows."
Mason spoke too fast in the star language, and Ganton could catch only a few words. Outside he could hear people shouting in the courtyard, and someone ran through the corridors.
"Lord Rick-"
Lord Rick didn't seem to hear. He took a parchment from Lord Mason and spread it out on the table. Ganton stood and moved closer to Rick. Neither Rick nor Mason objected, so he looked over Rick's shoulder, and made a firm vow to spend more time at his English lessons when he went back to the University. If he went back, and that seemed more and more an impossible thought.
Westmen. The word was a literal translation of the Tran term, and it leaped at him from the page. The Westmen had come to the southwest high plains. They'd come in strength, and had slain a bheroman and his knights, and Lord Rick looked up to see Ganton trying to read.
For a moment he hesitated, then handed the letter to Mason. "Read it to us," he ordered. "Translate as you go."
"Uh, Cap'n-"
"Please."
"Yes, sir." Mason cleared his throat and began to read.
The news was worse than Ganton had imagined. Hundreds of Westmen, mounted archers, every bit as skilled as the dreaded Tamaerthan archers. There- there was nothing on Tran to match them! Nothing but star weapons. How many did the Westmen number? In the Tales of The Time there were stories of fierce monsters from the west, tens of thousands of demons mounted -on horses that ate human flesh. Could they be Westmen?
I regret to report that Private Lafferty Reznick was killed in action. I would put him up for the Legion of Merit if I could. He saved my ass, and more important he saved Baldy, this Priest of Vothan who lived with the Westmen for ten years and more, so I got good intelligence on the Westmen. If I get a chance before I have to send this off I'll put down some of what he told me, but the most important thing is, there's drought up there in their desert. They're all coming down. Not so many right now, not more than a few hundred, but they'll all come down sooner or later. God knows how many that is, but it's a lot.
Corporal Jerzy Walinski has been severely wounded, and is not yet returned to duty, but is expected to recover. Four knights, three esquires, and nine men-at-arms with full armor, plus twenty-five farm boys of the local militia, are all that have come back from Baron Harkon's force. I keep hoping there'll be more, but I don't think there will be. There's no sign of the baron.
A star lord dead, another wounded, and of a bheroman's forces not one of ten alive!
Ski can't travel, and I don't have enough troops to fight my way back to Castle Dravan. So I holed up here, and we're digging in. I hope to God this gets through, Captain, because if it don't, we've had it and no mistake. I can hold on for a while. This is no strategic hamlet, but I know a few tricks, and the villagers are willing to fight if somebody shows them how. Which is me, I guess, because there's nobody else to do it, and I just hope that ammo holds out.
So I hope you can send me some help before it's too late. I know you got troubles of your own, but you got to get here pretty quick if you want to see us alive. If you don't make it, I'll try to wreck the H amp;K's before they get me.