"The University must survive, Tylara."
She had been ready to reply, but something in his voice stopped her. "At the expense of our lands?
"At all expense. Tylara, every six hundred years this planet, all of it, all its peoples, are knocked back into a dark age. That has to stop. Has to, and the University is the only way."
"Then we must find ways to protect our University," she said. "It too will be part of our children's rightful inheritance. We must preserve Chelm as well- and I doubt not that I have for a husband the only man alive who can do all that."
The rooms were perfect duplicates of Rick's office suite in Castle Dravan: small office with writing desk, larger conference room with slab table and side boards with wine cruets. The walls either had maps painted on them, or were smooth-surfaced and whitewashed for writing. A charcoal brazier stood in one corner, and a rack for cloaks and weapons in another. Apelles had even duplicated the carvings on the chairs…
"Within a ten-day we meet with the Grand Council," Rick said. "And before that, we'll meet with Lucius and Octavia and Drumold. But you're my council."
Tylara nodded agreement from her place at the other end of the table. Between them sat Elliot, Gwen, Warner, and Art Mason. "This is not the Council of Chelm," Tylara said. "Nor any lawful group. Yet-"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. This was a meeting of the starmen who held the power of gods. For a moment she seemed very vulnerable.
"I think you'll like Octavia," Gwen said. "That is, if you can get Ganton to spare her for a couple of hours." They all grinned at that; they'd hardly seen her since she arrived with Gwen and Warner.
First came reports. University research projects. The quest for movable type- "-but I wouldn't print any books yet," Gwen concluded.
"Why not?" Rick asked.
"Because the Shalnuksis can't possibly misunderstand their significance," Gwen said. "They'd know they were faced with a major outbreak of technology. God knows what they'd do."
"They may anyway," Rick said.
"Also, do you want to just throw all these changes at Tran?" Gwen asked. "You're going to lose control of the situation anyway-"
Rick saw Tylara's frown.
"-and some changes are more unsettling than others."
"I'll think about it. Meanwhile, keep working on it," Rick said. He sighed heavily. "We haven't a lot of -time. Next order of business. Elliot, you were with Parsons. He tried to run things by force. I've used a different policy. What do the men think of my way, now that Parsons is dead?"
"Cap'n, I was dead wrong about you, and I've said so," Elliot said.
"I'm not after an apology, Sergeant Major. I want an assessment of the situation."
"Sir." He looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Colonel Parsons had not yet attempted to plant surinomaz, but it's reasonable to suppose he'd have done no better at that than he did in holding the land," Elliot said. "While he was in command, we lost Corporal Hartford to guerrilla activity. Five more troopers were severely wounded. A total of twenty-three successfully deserted.
"Since you took command, Private Reznick has been killed in action, and three others have been severely wounded, all in battles. There have been no losses to guerrillas. Ten former deserters, eleven counting Mr. Mason, have returned to duty, and nobody has run off. Troop morale is high. We have over six hundred acres in surinomaz, and I guess there's no revolt brewing out there even if the peasants aren't too happy about growing the stuff." He shrugged. "On the evidence, your way works."
"And the men realize that?"
"Most," Elliot said. "All that count."
Meaning there are things you aren't telling me, Rick thought. But no point to that now. "The key to 'my method' has been to cooperate with the legitimate rulers here."
"You have done more than this. You have become one of us," Tylara said.
"The point is, I've tried to regularize our positions. One key to that is Wanax Ganton. Another has been the triple alliance of Drantos, Tamaerthon, and Rome."
"I would place your friendship with Yanulf and the Priesthood of Yatar at equal importance," Tylara said. "Especially as The Time approaches. Husband, no one has more admiration for you than I. I also know that you do not recite your accomplishments to gather praise from us. What is it you wish to say?"
"I have a policy question," Rick said. "But I wanted everybody to look at it from the right direction. The question is-what do we do about Ganton?"
"What should we do?" Gwen asked. "I mean, what are the choices?"
"You've watched him with Octavia. That's the first question, do we encourage this match? Beyond that. Do we want him to be Caesar?"
"Does he want to be?" Gwen asked. "Not that it would be automatic. The position isn't really hereditary."
"True," Rick said. "Look, here's the situation. The Westmen are coming down off their plains. Lots of them. They're pretty good troops. Probably can't take castles-" he looked to Mason for confirmation.
"Not by storm," Mason said. "Not stone ones, anyway. But they can wipe up anything else. Murphy had the best ditch, logs, and earth system I've seen on this planet, and he wouldn't have been able to hold much longer-would have lost already if it hadn't been for the battle rifles."
"So what'd you do with him?" Warner asked.
"He's set up in that castle Harkon used to have," Mason said. "With a lot of peasants to guard. He'll be okay until the food runs out."
"So we can hold castles, but not the land," Warner said. "So how do we feed those people?"
"Going to be worse than that," Mason said. "Below the Littlescarp things are too wet. Up on the high plains, that hot wind that comes down from the desert is drying things out."
"Probably the source of some of our rain," Warner mused.
"Could be," Mason said. "But for sure it won't do the crops much good. I don't know what the climate's going to be like, but up in the high plains it's been the driest spring anyone can remember."
Gwen was studying the map on the far wall. "Could we abandon the high plains?"
"It is my land," Tylara said. "Mine and Rick's."
"It's nobody's land if there's nothing to eat," Rick said.
"Captain, you have to hold it anyway," Mason said. "Otherwise the Westmen will ride right across to the Littlescarp and come down into Drantos proper. I'd rather fight them up there where they don't have so much room to spread out."
"The legends are relatively clear," Gwen said. "The Westmen swept all the way to the gates of Rome during one of the times of turmoil. Possibly the last one."
"So we'll have to stop them. Only who commands?" Rick asked. "Me?"
"You can't," Elliot said. "The Shalnuksis are coming, and you've got to deal with them. And somebody's got to keep the surinomaz crop growing-"
"There's the University situation, too," Gwen said. "It really is getting serious."
"Tylara told me," Rick said.
"Yes, the minor clans see much booty and little danger," Tylara said.
"Which makes for sticky diplomacy with Mac Clallan Muir, and you'll be personally needed," Gwen said.
"More than that, Captain," Elliot said. "If you send a sizable army up into drought country, the logistics are going to get sticky. With Apelles and his clerks to help I can probably handle most of the administration, but somebody's got to enforce our decrees. There's nobody except you to stand up to the barons."