A Cat Of Silvery Hue (13 page)

“And so, my Bili, you and I have a year or two, mayhap even three, but then Milo and Mara and my own conscience will insist that we get you wedded and bedded to some Kindred maids of good mindspeak stock and proven fertility.”

All at once, she threw her wiry, well-formed body against his with such force that she bore him onto his back. Savagely, she ground her mouth on his lips, while her hands frantically grasped and kneaded his body, mindspeaking, “Oh, my own dear love, three years is so very little time, let us not waste a second of it. Oh, love me, Bili, please, please love me!”

Slowly, the late or delayed noblemen trickled into Morguhnpolis and, by the waning of the Wine Moon, all the
thoheeks
of the archduchy were assembled, along with most of the Kindred and Ehleenoee landholders—all save
Thoheeks
Djehs of Vawn and his kin.

And this last very nearly precipitated strife amidst those assembled, since it was necessary that a surrogate be named to fill the chair of the missing duke. As it was quite likely, judging from the testimonies of those few Vawnee taken alive, that the surrogate would be confirmed
Thoheeks
of Vawn in the end, and as Vawn was a rich duchy, what with its mines and high leas full of sheep and goats, all of the great nobles proposed a younger son or a favored kinsman for the needed surrogate. But to approve one would be to offend all the rest, and Milo could see this enterprise—organized to promote unity amongst the nobles, Kindred or Ehleenoee—dissolving into hotheaded recriminations and, possibly, blood feuding.

Bili of Morguhn arose from his place at the council table. “My Kindred, I, too, wish to propose a surrogate for
Thoheeks
Vawn of revered memory.”

Thoheeks
Hwil of Dailee of Blue Mountain smiled tightly, his bald pate reflecting as much lamplight as Bili’s shaven one. “We are sure you do, young Morguhn. But you must realize that after the reconquest of Vawn, a man with both a strong hand and
mature
judgment is going to be needed in that duchy. All your brothers are just too young.”

Bili’s wolf grin answered the old
thoheeks’
smile. “Just so, Kindred, just so. That is why I propose Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz as surrogate
Thoheeks
Vawn.”

While the “noble gentlemen” shouted, snarled, cursed, pounded the tabletop and similarly carried out their polite discussion of the proposal of Morguhn, Milo mindspoke Bili on a level to which none of the others could attain.

“Why the Sanderz, Bili? Because he seems intent on wedding one of your mothers, or simply because you like him?”

“Neither,” replied the young duke. “Who my mothers choose to wed is their affair. And while I respect the Sanderz for his fighting skills, his leadership abilities and his horsemanship, among other things, I sometimes find him a damned hard man to stomach. So I can’t say that I like him.”

“No, I am just weary unto death of this squabbling, this senseless wrangling over Vawn. When first I met most of these men, I was almost in awe of them, but this business has shown me their other guises. They’re like wild dogs snarling and snapping over a rotted carcass.”

“Since Chief Hwahltuh be True Kindred, my lord, why not give him and his clan Vawn? Why make him go on to Kehnooryos Atheenahs to swear his oaths to you when he can do so here? Admittedly, I be ignorant of many of the finer points of custom and the Law of the Tribe, but this course seems practical and, if we act now, mayhap we can get this war done by harvest time.”

Milo mindspoke dryly, “But how to get such practicality across to your peers? Be not too harsh in your judgment of them, though, Bili; the chiefs who were their many-times-grandsires were no less petulant and quarrelsome, yes, and just as grasping at times.”

“
ENOUGH
!” snapped the
arhkeethoheeks
disgustedly. “Our young Kinsman’s proposal is the best I expect to hear. I, for one, am in favor of immediately adopting it. I say we name Chief Hwahltuh surrogate
Thoheeks
Vawn. To simplify matters, why not combine the names—
Thoheeks
and Chief of Vawn-Sanderz. Eh?”

Squat, muscular, black-haired
Thoheeks
Djaimzos of Duhnkin slapped horny palm to table. “Not so fast, Kinsman, not so fast! Part of the Agreements of Confederation states, if I recall properly, that new-come clans will not be given the lands or any parts thereof already settled by Kindred. The High Lord may correct me if I be wrong, but I believe that he has, in times past, given such newcomers recently subdued border lands for their duchies; in fact, I think Vawn was originally one such, years agone.”

“No, we must look amongst the old, established Kindred for a proper surrogate, and I can think of none better than my brother Tanist Petros’ son-in-law,
Vahrohneeskos
Ahrktos Baikuh!”

“That dimwit?” snorted
Thoheeks
Hari of Baikuh, his brick-red mustachios quivering, his gray eyes flashing. “My cousin—my own mother’s sister’s son—he be, yet I must tell you that Cousin Ahrktos cannot find his arse with both hands! Quite frankly, we had almost despaired of finding a noble Kinsman stupid enough to suffer a daughter to marry the moron, until”—he grinned slyly—”we lucked onto the House of Duhnkin.”

“No, if a Baikuh’s to be chosen—and what House better qualified?—my second-oldest brother,
Komees
Lupos, who—”

“Who,”
Thoheeks
Alehk of Skaht sneered, “anytime you or even your horse farts, shouts ‘Here I be, my lord!’ Oh, true, he obviously knows his name and station, but the Vawn went to Wind bravely and in honor. Can we choose a lesser man for such a chiefs surrogate?”

He paused to clear his throat “Now my son, Dahn—”

Another round of shouting, threatening and general uproar then ensued. Milo’s broadbeamed mindspeak finally ended it.

“Gentlemen…and I use the term very loosely since there appear to be but two such in my presence. There be weightier things at hand than the disposal of a vacant title and its lands, and these be not yours to award in any case but mine. I have decided in favor of
Thoheeks
Morguhn’s wise suggestion.”

“Nor can this decision be construed as favoritism, since the Sanderz is Kindred to all here yet close relative of none.”

“Nor,
Thoheeks
Duhnkin, are the Agreements of Confederation in any manner compromised by this decision. Think you, are we not all here assembled to conquer Vawn? Are not Chief Hwahltuh and most of his clan’s fighters taking part in that conquest? Could we adhere any more closely to the Agreements, then?”

So it was that, before all the assembled nobles of the archduchy, Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz and his clansmen took their oaths to the Undying God of the Horseclans, Milo of Morai, High Lord of the Confederation of Kindred and Ehleenoee.

After so many weeks of living and fighting and roistering among these, once strange, eastern Kinsmen, the short, wiry, middle-aged warrior was no longer ill at ease, though he still held Milo in greater awe than did the more sophisticated easterners. In the new clothing, boots and armor Bili had pressed upon him, he impressively fulfilled his part of the long ceremony, and he was proclaimed
Thoheeks
of Vawn and Chief of Sanderz by the High Lord, these titles being confirmed by each of the major and minor nobles, in turn—which took considerable time plus the best efforts of a brazen-throated sergeant major of the Confederation
kahtahfrahktoee
.

And when “
Komees
Daiviz of Horse County!” was called, the chunky Vaskos stood and roared back his “Aye, my lords. All of Horse County say, ‘Long life to
Thoheeks
Hwahltuh of Vawn!’”

“And so,”
Komees
Hari’s son went on, smiling at Bili over his goblet of
Vahrohnos
Myros’ best honey wine, “we cleared the county of rebels. As best we can figure, only the huntsman, Danos, escaped us. At least we couldn’t find his body, though his sword, bow and armor and all his clothing were still in his quarters. Among those papers I brought is the receipt from your prison keeper for the persons of Lady Hehrah Daiviz, Sub-
kooreeos
Pavlos and his woman, one Ntohrees Kahntlehs. The only others left alive in Horse Hall were the headman’s kidnapped wife and a handful of servants’ children, all of them since taken in by villagers who had lost their own to Hehrah’s evil.”

Bili nodded. “Then I assume Hari’ll not be taking part in the campaign?”

Vaskos’ hearty chuckle nearly slopped out his wine. “Hardly. He’ll be along presently, though we’ll be in Vawn by then—hopefully. But you know Father—first come his people, then his purse, though he’s not nearly so impecunious as you’d think by his bellyaching.”

“No, he wants to be sure that his folk and his horses will be well provided for and ascertain the minimum number of men required to take in the crops if the campaign outlasts this season.”

“Oh, and speaking of men, Father has learned his lesson. You recall how adamant he was that he’d never maintain Freefighters at Horse Hall? Well, he’s kept eight—no, nine—of yours. But I’m sure Boh Hohguhn will cover that in his report, after which, with your permission, of course, he’s promised to go out and help me sign on a score of good Freefighters for Father’s own use.”

Lieutenant Hohguhn’s report was short and concise. He told of one man killed by slingstone and two wounded, one of them soon to come back to the army with the old
komees;
the other, though he had at first appeared to have suffered only a bump on the head, had become prone to fainting fits and, after pitching down a staircase one day, had died of a broken neck. The officer had brought back the dead men’s horses and gear, and he assured Bili that when he assisted Vaskos in recruiting the Daiviz condotta, he would sign on two good fighters to replace the losses.

After a long, arduous march, which had included several inconclusive skirmishes with the wild mountain tribesmen, Drehkos Daiviz and his battered band at last crossed the northwestern border of Vawn, rested briefly at a deserted hall, then continued on toward Vawnpolis—which city had no Ehleen name, since there had been no city on its site in Ehleen times, nor had the duchy even been a part of the Kingdom of Karaleenos then.

The utter desolation of the countryside through which they marched appalled Drehkos, and the evidences of savageries and atrocities sickened him. Here lay the rotted remains of a whole herd of sheep and, farther on, the animal-gnawed bones of a foal, its legs looking to have been lopped off with a sword; mutilated, bird-picked human corpses dangled from trees and improvised crosses. And in empty halls and deserted villages were hints of other things, deeds so depraved that the sinister thoughts of what they might have been set Drehkos’ skin acrawl. That Drehkos had never been initiated into the Deeper Mysteries of the Faith was perhaps the wisest decision
Vahrohnos
Myros had ever made.

As for the
vahrohnos
, he had regained his senses after a week or so and, when again he could sit a horse, had expected to assume command. But by that time, the fleeing rebels—of Morguhn and Vawn alike—had come to rely upon Drehkos. Not all of the peacock-proud Myros’ boasts of his own military exploits and experience or his snarled references to
Vahrohneeskos
Daiviz’ lack of such could shake the faith of those men who had come to appreciate Drehkos’ quiet courage, that manner which was unruffled and quick-witted even in the midst of an unexpected ambush and the tactical decisions which, though usually unorthodox, were usually right.

Denied what he considered to be his rightful station and deference, Myros became petty and spiteful, dragging out his memory and gleefully recounting to all and sundry forty years’ worth of Drehkos’ peccadilloes and profligacies and, when memory and facts failed, spinning new tales. When questioned, Drehkos admitted those bits of vicious gossip which were true and quietly denied Myros’ false slanders, all the while continuing to lead as best he knew how, further uncovering a never before suspected natural aptitude for command and leadership, and learning the exacting art of mountain warfare by bitter experience.

By the time they crossed into Vawn, only Myros’ servants and bodyguards would listen to a word he had to say, and even they laughed behind their hands when he launched another round of slanders against the man who was now unquestionably their commander; the other Morguhnee and Vawnee barely tolerated the
vahrohnos
.

Nor was it any different in Vawnpolis, which soon was babbling in every quarter tales of that epic march through the dreaded mountains and murderous tribes and of the calm and competent leadership of
Vahrohneeskos
Drehkos Daiviz. Calm or competent leaders were indeed rare in doomed, overcrowded Vawnpolis, so Drehkos not only found himself lionized but quickly ensconced high in the command structure of the Crusader forces, as well as becoming the chief of the Morguhn refugee community.

And as Drehkos’ star spectacularly waxed, so did Myros’ wane. Before his very face both noble and commoner aped mocking parodies of his pompous bearing and affected mannerisms and, when the last of his jewels had gone to buy the few morsels of poor food they would bring, his servants and guards deserted him. Finally only the charity of the Church sustained him. Occasionally, while Drehkos and his staff supervised the strengthening of the walls or the emplacement of a new-made engine on them, the
vahrohneeskos
would see on a street below Myros’ shambling figure, garbed in his ragged, tattered finery. Of neither his exalted pedigree nor his high attainments nor his expropriated wealth was there any evidence in that unshaven, unwashed rooter in garbage piles.

In addition to Drehkos and the small staff of nobles, artisans and soldiers screened from the group which had followed him from Morguhn, there was but a bare handful of organizers to attempt to marshal the jam-packed city, find supplies and improve defenses for the attack and siege which was as certain as the morning sunrise. Not that any of the more rational rebels expected to do more than die, if lucky, with some degree of honor. But there did exist, they tried to assure themselves and their people, an outside chance that, if they could put up a really determined defense, they might delay the inevitable long enough to squeeze some sort of terms from the advancing hosts, who would probably be anxious to have any trouble settled by harvest time.