Sir Morgan sank into his favorite chair in his library, his guests following suit as his page circled a library now emptied of the overflow of books from the Dead Earth pouring wine for everyone. (The Kildar briefly hoped the delegation from King Thransiravst didn’t stay long — he liked being able to move about his sleeping chamber, and the piles of books now infesting it made that difficult.) The wine poured, Peredur bowed and left the room, and Sir Morgan knew his page would take UP his place in front of the closed door, making sure they were not disturbed — or spied on.
As he sipped what his steward insisted was a superior wine (Morgan wouldn’t know, his years as a sergeant of the Megalan legions hadn’t been conducive to furthering his education in wine snobbery), he glanced around at the room’s other inhabitants: Court Wizard Myrddin, Father Andre, and Captain Sindviral, the last pretending very well to be comfortable in the human-sized chair he had insisted on — no child’s chair for the proud dwarf! Firmly quashing a chuckle as he thought of stunts his soldiers had pulled just to show how tough they were, Morgan reflected that in the dwarf’s plain if well-made clothing, he didn’t much resemble the dwarven merchants that dropped in regularly (though moreso than he had when he’d arrived, in chain mail a king would have been proud to wear if it had fit, and his small but heavy battleax). But appearance wasn’t as reliable a marker of status among dwarves as humans, and Morgan reminded himself of the dwarvish saying King Conall told him when he’d accepted the post of Kildar: “If you can’t be skilled, be strong. If you can’t be strong, be rich.”
Morgan waited until the others had had a chance to enjoy their fermented grape juice before clearing his throat. “Captain Sindviral,” he said, “as always you are welcome in my hall, as are any of Thransiravst’s people passing through, but usually those dwarves that visit are merchants seeking to trade in what limited goods my people produce, and that in the fall after the harvest. Your arrival was ... unanticipated.”
Sindviral shrugged. “Yes, well, from what my scouts have been reporting over the past few weeks, it is doubtful that there will be any merchants this year. Considering all the effort going into clearing ground and planting crops, it is unlikely that you will have enough of the usual woodwork to make a visit worthwhile, and none of the food — considering all the additional mouths you have to feed, now.” He grinned when Morgan stiffened. “You didn’t know you were being watched? Good, it means they were doing it right. We’ve been using your people for training our scouts for almost as long as we’ve known of them — the Keldara are perfect, country people with a feel for the rhythm of the land, but farmers rather than woodsmen. They make excellent practice for beginners.”
“You know, all those new mouths aren’t actually a violation of the agreement the kings agreed upon, almost two centuries ago,” Myrddin said nonchalantly from where he sat to the side, and Morgan gratefully relaxed back into his chair as Sindviral turned to Caithness’s Court Wizard.
“How so?” the dwarf asked. “It seems straightforward enough. We would permit the king of the new kingdom of Caithness to appoint a Kildar as the Keldara requested, in spite of this land being within Thranel’s boundaries — the Keldara had been here for centuries before we found them living here, much less centuries before the lowland orcs were cleared out and your kingdom was founded, and we were happy to trade with them for surface goods that we prefer not to produce ourselves. But in return, your king agreed that he would not claim overlordship over the Keldara, permit any wizard to live here, or send additional settlers up into these valleys.”
“True,” Myrddin acknowledged, “and King Conall holds to that agreement. I am not here to take advantage of the stronger currents of magic, and will be leaving soon enough. As for all the new settlers, they are not from Caithness.”
Sindviral’s gaze sharpened, but he slowly nodded. “I would like to believe you,” he said, “and that would actually fit what the scouts reported — a large number of new mouths, but no signs of travel on the road up to the valley. But they had to come from somewhere, there have been none of the signs of a banestorm, and we know they didn’t come over the mountains even if that had been possible with the winter snows. So where did they come from?”
“From the same place as all other humans, and they got here the same way the Keldara did, those centuries before you found them,” Myrddin replied. He paused in thought for a long moment, then reluctantly filled in the dwarf on the existence of the Cave of Worlds, and what had brought on the flood of refugees from the human homeworld.
Sindviral frowned thoughtfully as he mulled over what he’d been told. “A sad tale, if true — and no, I do not doubt its truthfulness,” he hastily added, raising a hand. “But I will still need to verify it before I return to my king, so that I can tell him that I saw with my own eyes. But what do you intend to do with them? They may not be a violation of the agreement, but neither are they covered by it. They cannot remain here on Thranelese land.”
“No, they can’t, nor do I suspect most of them want to — these mountain valleys would be colder and drier than what they are used to. But there are problems with moving them out right away, as well. Things are ... unsettled, down in Caithness.”
“That is true,” Sindviral agreed, straightening, “but it is also your affair, not ours. I can’t speak for my king, but I am sure that he will insist that they be gone as soon as the crops they are planting are harvested.”
Myrddin leaned back, searching for an argument that might convince the dwarves to allow the refugees to stay, where they wouldn’t come to the attention of the Anti-Gunpowder Conspiracy. The wizards scattered throughout the realm on the few pieces of land where magic was known to flow at its normal strength had so far stayed mostly neutral in the civil war tearing it apart, but word of the arrival of this many newcomers with possibly dangerous knowledge could bring some of them, at least, out of their towers — and on the wrong side, if they thought the king was trying to keep the newcomers away from them.
The wizard glanced over at Father Andre, but quickly dismissed any possibility of help there. The dwarves were serious about honesty and keeping agreements, but there was little to no universalism in their worldview — there were dwarves, and there was everyone else, and what happened to everyone else concerned them not at all. No, any appeal to mercy that the good priest might make would fall on deaf ears; Sindviral was likely to simply respond that it was not the place of dwarves to interfere with the crucible needed to lift others to the Eternal, and that Eternal was too impersonal for an appeal to divine judgment to work.
There was a knock on the door, and Myrddin looked toward it in carefully hidden relief even as Morgan jerked angrily to his feet.
Striding to the door, the Kildar yanked it open and snarled “I thought I gave orders that we were not —” He abruptly broke off his rebuke at the sight Nabiki and another of the first refugees — the grief-stricken girl whose name he couldn’t remember, except that burden of grief seemed to be missing — standing behind his pale and sweating page.
“I-I-I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lord,” Peredur stammered, “but they insisted that they needed to see you and your guests immediately, that it has to do with what you are discussing.”
Morgan quirked an eyebrow at Myrddin, who nodded back, and Morgan turned back to his page. “You did well, Peredur,” he reassured him, and the boy sagged a bit in relief. “Now find a couple of chairs ...” He turned and surveyed the library, then continued, “No, make it stools, chairs won’t fit.”
Peredur nodded and scurried away, and Morgan stepped back and motioned for the two girls to enter. The two stepped in and looked around, Nabiki’s eyebrows rising at the absence of the stacks of books that she had been reading from the previous day. “Maid Nabiki, Maid ... I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”
“Miyo,” she replied. She glanced over at Father Andre, to find him sitting bolt upright, staring at her.
“Miyo, what —” he began, then broke off to collect himself. “Child, you received an answer to your questions?”
She nodded calmly, fighting to hide her nervousness. “Yes, I did, and more — much more.”
The priest stared in shock at the sound of the modern version of French that his ancestors had brought with them four hundred and fifty years before in the last massive banestorm, then eased himself back into his chair, puffing out a relieved breath. “That is good to hear. The results of such questions as you were demanding are not always ... positive,” he replied in kind. “What hap — ? But that is for later.”
Switching back to Anglic, he continued, “So what do you and Nabiki have, that needs all four of us now?”
Also switching to the Kildar’s Megalan-accented Anglic, Miyo said, “Actually, I will need to tell you what happened to me to explain why we’re here.”
Taking a deep breath, she paused as Peredur reentered the room with a pair of stools. Myrddin and Father Andre hastily rose to their feet, offering their chairs to the girls and taking the stools. Sitting down stiffly upright, Miyo waited until the page had again left the room, then took another deep breath, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Father Andre can tell you that I have spent what time wasn’t necessary for work, eating or sleep in the chapel praying to know why my world, and my family with it, were destroyed,” she started. “Last night, I received an answer....”
Miyo finished her story yet again to complete silence. For a time the men simply stared at her, until Sindviral finally stirred. “An incredible story,” he said. “I have heard the stories of Ascended that have separated themselves from the Eternal to provide guidance for those left behind, but never thought I would meet someone that has been so visited. But other than the warning it offers about greed and hubris, I do not see what war among the lowland surface dwellers has to do with the situation here. As sad as it is, it is none of our concern.”
“For us, it is simple enough — better a broken ax than a bent knee,” Miyo responded, and Sindviral started at the dwarvish proverb spoken in his native tongue, clear and without accent. Switching back to Anglish, she continued, “For you, it is also simple — would you rather have Caithness for a neighbor, or Megalos? Megalos, with all its corruption, drive to conquer, and religious fanatics? Because if the future isn’t changed, that is what you will have.”
Sindviral gazed thoughtfully at the teenage girl, then said, “So your Deborah asks that the dwarves march to war in your defense?”
“No, we don’t,” Nabiki replied from where she sat beside Miyo. Miyo glanced over gratefully at the other girl, then slumped back with a faint sigh of relief. “Miyo’s vision included a fairly extensive briefing — much more than the impression I got of what prophets normally see from what little I’ve read of the Bible,” Nabiki continued, glancing wryly at Father Andre, then focusing again on Sindviral and the Kildar, “but perhaps that was because of how ignorant we newcomers are of what’s going on. After Miyo came home last night, we spent much of the evening discussing it.
“We decided that what is needed to break the stalemate in Caithness without bleeding the kingdom white and letting Megalos just walk in are more soldiers, with a new way of fighting — lightly armored and armed with long spears, with crossbowmen for skirmishers. We have all the people we need right here in the Keldara, but they need training and equipment. Sergeant Morgan can provide the training” — she smiled wryly at the Kildar — “if we have the equipment and enough food that the trainees won’t be spending all their time in the fields. Thranel can supply both.”
“I see.” Sindviral sat silently for a time, deep in thought, then nodded. “I certainly don’t have the authority to make such a decision myself, and even if I did I would want to consult the elders of the clan, but I will take word of your request to the king. But for that I’m going to need specifics. Just what kind of armor are you referring to, what kind of weapons, and especially just how large of a force are you considering....?”
Miyo glanced away from Myrddin’s interrogation of her and Nabiki about recent Earth history toward the library door as Sir Morgan stepped back inside the library from seeing off the dwarves, Peredur closing the door behind him as the page again took up guard to protect their privacy. So intent was Myrddin on his pursuit that he hadn’t noticed the Kildar’s return — or the pinched, drawn expressions on the faces of the girls he was questioning.
“Enough, your Honor,” Sir Morgan said firmly as he took his seat. When Myrddin looked up, he added, “Later, when we don’t have the here and now to worry about.” And when they’ve had more time to heal. “Now that Captain Sindviral and his people have left, I have some questions I couldn’t ask while he was listening.”
Myrddin paused, then nodded and settled back, oblivious to the grateful looks Miyo, Nabiki and Father Andre gave to Sir Morgan. “You are correct, we have more immediate concerns than satisfying my curiosity,” the Court Wizard admitted with a sigh, then looked back at the girls. “As the Kildar says, I wasn’t about to ask while Captain Sindviral was here, but can a few hundreds of lightly armored footmen with nothing but spears and crossbows make that much of a difference?”
“Properly trained, they can, if they have the courage to resist a cavalry charge,” Sir Morgan said. “If that’s the case, they will rule any ground they stand on — Nabiki and I were just reading yesterday before you arrived about ... was it the Swiss pikes?” He glanced at Nabiki and she nodded. “Of course, that’s in Caithness. Anywhere that magic flows at its normal pace, they would have to deal somehow with war wizards. The Megalan legions especially would be a problem, with the way that war wizards are integrated into the ranks.
“My own concerns are different,” he continued, turning to Miyo. “You can’t carry spears of that length up siege ladders, so they’d be armed with their daggers and wearing no armor but their helmets — it would be a slaughter. It won’t do us any good to beat the rebels in the field if they simply fall back into their castles and wait until Megalos comes to their rescue.
“And where will all these men come from? All the able-bodied men the Keldara can provide could just fill the numbers you gave Captain Sindviral for pikes, but what about the crossbowmen? You aren’t thinking of using young boys and old men for skirmishers?”
“No, we aren’t,” Nabiki replied, then grinned. “Actually, we’re planning to call all the fit, young maidens to arms for the skirmishers.” Her grin turned into a sharp laugh at the stunned expressions on the faces of the three men, and even Miyo chuckled. “Didn’t think of that, did you? I imagine that neither will the rebels.”
“I ... no, I didn’t, but ...” Sir Morgan stammered out. “Father Andre?”
The priest gazed at Miyo for a long moment, then nodded. “So that is why it was Deborah that visited you rather than one of the saints,” he murmured, then glanced at Nabiki. “And you are the one chosen to be Aaron to her Moses?”
At the girls’ blank expression, he chuckled and tried again. “You are chosen to be her spokeswoman?”
The two girls exchanged glances, and after a moment Miyo said, “Sort of ... I was told where we need to go, but not exactly how to get there. Nabiki is ... one of my advisors. Also, she’s better at bargaining than I am.”
“I see. Child, did your visitation come inside the church?” Miyo nodded, and the stout priest turned to the Kildar. “If one of the prophets calls the young women to battle in our extreme need, who is a humble priest to argue? But the Keldara will most likely feel differently, and they are ... not as firm in the Faith as I would like,” he continued. turning to Nabiki. “Will they be willing to allow their young maidens to serve?”
“That will be my job,” Miyo responded firmly, trying not to shake at the thought ... she was not looking forward to meeting with the Keldaran elders.
“So, assuming the Keldara agree to go to war, will that be enough?” Myrddin asked Morgan. “You said something about sieges.”
“Yes, I did. There isn’t much point in bringing more men ... people ... to battle if they die uselessly — which they will if they try to storm a castle’s walls. And we will have to do just that for this to work. Wherever we attack, we need to succeed quickly to so that the rebels won’t have time to react.”
As well,” Myrddin added, “a surprise attack on one of the rebel nobles, even if successful, is likely to simply stiffen the spine of those that remain and have them call for Megalan aid — we need something to bring at least some of them to our side voluntarily, to strengthen our numbers.”
Nabiki grinned. “Well, for storming castles, how would you like to have some people that can leap to the top of castle walls and fight well enough with their bare hands once there to clear those walls while regular troops charge forward with siege ladders?”
The three men stared at Nabiki, dumbfounded. I think I may be hitting my limit on the number of shocks for one day, Myrddin thought. “But magic doesn’t work on Earth, how did they learn?!” he demanded.
“It isn’t magic, it’s ki,” Nabiki replied with a shrug. Then seeing the men’s blank looks, added, “Life energy. It’ll work wherever people can live.”
Myrddin and Sir Morgan exchanged glances, hard grins spreading across their faces. “So even where magic doesn’t work ...” Myrddin began. “... we have our battle wizards,” Morgan finished. “Oh, yes, that’ll make a difference!”
“As for convincing some of the rebel nobles to switch back,” Nabiki continued, “from what Miyo was told they seem to fall into three groups—those that have actually broken the laws of the kingdom and will be deposed if they lose, those that actually think the king is growing too powerful, and those that simply don’t trust him. So what if we aim at the ones that don’t trust him, give them a reason to give him another chance? What we came up with —”
“What you came up with,” Miyo murmured.
“— is that King Conall announces the creation of two new Grand Councils, one made up of the kingdom’s nobles or their appointed surrogates, and the other made up of the common people’s chosen representatives, for the purpose of giving him advice on the direction of the kingdom. If he also publicly swears not to change or repeal any laws or create new ones until the Grand Councils have had the chance to give their advice, do you think that would satisfy the ones that don’t trust him?”
Myrddin gazed at Nabiki, brow furrowed. There was something in what she’d said that was teasing at his memory — as a teenaged geek in the 1950s he had been in love with the King Arthur myths and nothing like that was to be found in them, but he had heard about advisory councils to kings somewhere.... Wait, wasn’t that how the English legislature got its start? Is she really thinking that far ahead? It did take centuries for the ... the Parliament ... to eventually become a real democracy. But do the in charge of suppressing dangerous knowledge in Megalos know that? Not that it matters, they’re coming sooner or later, regardless.
Finally, he nodded. “Your ideas have merit, though of course it will depend on whether King Thransiravst agrees to equip our new soldiers and feed their families. Hopefully, he will decide quickly, I can’t stay for long — I’ll need to return to King Conall with word of what is happening here along with your suggestions.”
“Why wait?” Nabiki asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a wizard? I’d think you could just, I don’t know, warm up your crystal ball and talk to him.”
Myrddin chuckled, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple. Actually, I can use a crystal ball to whistle up Carrick Town. However, only wizards can use crystal balls, so I’d have to speak with another wizard who’d pass on what I say to the king. As well, anyone who knows that a long-distance conference is going on can join it — or just listen in. Considering what’s at stake, I’d rather not risk Megalos having a spy in the capital listening in.”
Nabiki made a face. “Right, let’s not.”
Myrddin’s chuckle turned into a laugh, and he turned to the Kildar. “So, Sir Morgan, why don’t you show me the books you collected from Earth, especially what they have to say about the Swiss pike?”
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(Posted Fri, 04 Mar 2011 06:02)
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