"Mortars," Rick said.
Camithon looked at him curiously.
"Lord Rick is our war leader. He knows of these weapons," Drumold explained.
"Where is the Wanax Ganton?" Tylara asked.
"The lad has caught the fever," Camithon said. "He rests in this castle." The elderly soldier paused. "We have come as beggars," he said. "To beg Tamaerthon aid against Sarakos. Yet, in truth, we come as more than beggars. We bring news I think you will not find unwelcome."
"It had best be welcome news," Drumold growled. "I am nearly frozen. What news have you that could not wait for you to come to us?"
"Hear him out," Calad said."I did not lightly send for you. Protector, tell Mac Clallan Muir of the war in Drantos."
"After Castle Dravan fell, I fled to the army of the Protector Dorion," Camithon said. "We caught Sarakos in an unfavorable situation and thought to destroy him in a great battle. I do not know who would have won that day, but suddenly our knights were cut down like wheat before the scythe. Sarakos had made alliance with men from the stars who hold evil weapons." He paused to study Drumold's expression. "You say nothing to this?"
"We know already," Drumold said.
"Strange," Camithon mused. "Yet this makes the telling easier. After Sarakos and his allies had beaten us, we fled to the mountains where we thought to fight on. Sarakos made our task the easier, for his armies ravaged the land. He turned out every bheroman in Drantos to replace them with his favorites. They so enslaved the commons that all, great and humble, were ready to join us. We fought no great battles -we knew we could not win such. But we harassed the land, burned the crops, killed his messengers, struck down his new knights and bheromen when, they took possession of their villages. Sarakos has known no peace in Drantos. Many of his horses have starved or been eaten. Even so, many of his soldiers are dead of hunger and the plague, and many more have fled. He will lose more before spring, for the snows have closed the road to the Five Kingdoms, and we have destroyed the harvests in Drantos.
"It was after winter came that we heard of your great victory over the Roman legions. I have once before seen what Tamaerthon archers can do in battle, and it came to me that with the forces I hold and can gather, and with the aid of some thousands of your archers, we can drive Sarakos from Drantos and restore the lady Tylara to her dower lands. This I have come to ask."
Drumold leaned close to Rick. "What think you of this?"
"Lord Camithon," Rick said, "have you forgotten the star men and their weapons?"
"No," Camithon said. "This is the welcome news I bring. The star men have divided. Many have fled from Sarakos. Fewer than a dozen remain. Surely a dozen men will not frighten you who have bested the Romans."
"How do you know the star men have divided?"
Rick demanded.
Camithon smiled grimly. "I have brought a present for Mac Clallan Muir and his daughter." He turned to an officer. "Bring in the prisoner."
The officer left and returned moments later with a man dressed in peasant woolen trousers and thick jacket. He had a scraggly beard that hadn't been shaved or trimmed for weeks, and his hands were shackled together with iron bracelets riveted to a foot-long chain.
He stood sullenly, looking defiantly at the council table, until he saw Rick. He stared a moment, then shouted, "Captain! For God's sake, Captain, help me!"
It was Private Warner.
Despite the blazing fire, Rick's quarters were cold. And not just the chilly air, Rick thought. He could feel the chill radiating from where Tylara sat by the hearth.
"I had thought you would be pleased," she said. "Are not your enemies my enemies? Sarakos can be killed, and I can rid myself of this burning hatred for him-"
"We don't know that," Rick said. "Tylara-Tylara, every time I think of what Sarakos did to you, I get sick. I hate him as much as you do. I love you!"
"You do not seem to."
"More than you know," Rick said. "It is my wish to make Tamaerthon strong without endless war. Should we risk all that for revenge?"
Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Rick called with relief.
Warner had been shaved and given better clothes. He was almost pathetically grateful when Jamiy brought him in. "Thank God you're here, Captain. Thank God-"
"Have a seat," Rick invited. "Jamiy, pour him a cup of wine."
Warner sat gratefully. He chugged the wine, and Rick poured his cup full again. "Take it easy," he said. "Before you get drunk, I want to know your story." He laughed. "You know, it wasn't a week ago I was wishing I had you around. I was trying to derive some of Newton's equations. Think you can remember college physics?"
"Yes, sir," Warner said. "Uh-ballistics?"
"Maybe," Rick said. "But mostly just general science." He switched to the local Tran dialect. "Warner, this is the lady Tylara. We'd both like to hear your story."
"Yes, sir. But could I have some more wine first?" Warner drank eagerly. "Where should I begin?"
"We know Parsons made an alliance with Sarakos," Rick said. "And that you helped him win the battle against the Drantos army. What happened after that?"
"At first it was pretty good," Warner said. "Captain, I can tell this better in English."
"Go ahead. I'll translate for Tylara."
"Yes, sir. Well, like I said, at first it was pretty good. We'd won, and we owned the country. Parsons gave each one of us a couple of local girls. It was a little funny owning slaves, but that's the way things are here. We had women and jewels and lots of good food and pretty good wine, and it was like Parsons said it would be. We lived like kings. Even out in the field we had servants. We took over the best houses for quarters, and we didn't have to fight much-just when the locals ran into something they couldn't handle. Then we'd come up with the machine guns and the mortars.
"Everything was fine for a couple of months, but then it all came apart. Guerrilla war. Captain, it was like Vietnam, only worse, because we didn't have any choppers or trucks or anything. We had to ride horses, and by the time we got anywhere, the char-lies had gone off into the hills. We weren't safe anywhere outside castles. Ride through the woods and you never knew but what an arrow or a crossbow bolt would kill you.
"It just never stopped, and it didn't look like it was ever going to get any better, either. Those people hated us, and we couldn't kill all of them. And it got kind of hungry, too, even for us -and we had more to eat than the poor bastards with us. And Parsons! He got so mean, you couldn't get near him. Claimed it was all our fault -we weren't disciplined enough-but he'd fix that. So one day a bunch of us got fed up and rode off."
"How many?" Rick asked.
"Twenty-two," Warner said. "Gengrich and I organized it. We went south, to the city-state territory. We needed some way to make a living, so we arranged to hire out to the city republic of Kleistinos. They fed us and our wives – most of us brought one or both of the girls we'd been living with-and we didn't have to fight, either. Come spring we were supposed to escort a big caravan south, and that sure sounded like easier work than what Parsons had us doing."
"So how did you end up here?"
Warner looked sheepish."! got drunk, passed out in a tavern, and woke up with those handcuff things. The local tavernkeeper sold me to the Drantos rebels."