Ambition and Alavidha (7 page)

“I’m sure he’s
prepared for all eventualities,” said Kenlei, looking smug. “I took
the precaution of informing Kenlas that we were in town and would
be dining here tonight.”

“Then he will
have made plenty, you clever sausage.”

Kenlei
grimaced. He didn’t like sausages.

Katie looked at
Thalia, “and what will you have Thalia, what do you fancy? It’s my
treat.”

“I’ll have the
pie too,” said a decided Thalia, the smells emanating from the
kitchen area were mouth-watering. “Josei?”

“I’m having
what he’s having,” said Josei, inclining his head in Kenlei’s
direction and wagging his tail.

The waiter
appeared as if by magic and took Katie and Thalia’s order, a grin
on his open face.

“Some
gingrootbeer too to wash it down please, two glasses,” ordered
Katie.

“Very good
madam.” The
Lazy Lind
prided itself on its courtesy to all
of its guests, two-legged or four-pawed. He looked with
attentiveness at Josei and Kenlei.

“Sirs?” he
prompted.

“We’ll have the
pie too,” Kenlei ordered, “no trimmings. Three each.”

Thalia almost
choked on her wine.

“They are very,
very good,” Kenlei explained, “three will do to be going on with.
Josei and me will decide later if we need another.”

“Very good
sirs,” said the waiter, hiding a grin, Thalia’s face had been a
picture. “Water dishes will arrive soon and I apologise for any
delays. We are, as you can see, very busy this evening.”

“Apology
accepted,” said a magnanimous Kenlei, twitching his ears back and
forth in a gesture Thalia could interpret as amusement.

The waiter
backed away, still grinning and Katie turned to Thalia.

“So how did
your meeting with Susa Malkum go?”

“Great. Me and
Josei will be transferring to one of the Western Ryzcks in the new
year. Not sure which one yet.”

If Katie was
surprised she hid it well. “is that what you really want?” she
asked, “it’s different there, a lot different. Many sent there
don’t want to stay, transfer out requests are common.”

“Definitely,”
Thalia replied in a firm voice, “it’s much closer to Josei’s rtath
you see and I know he misses his rtathen. We only ever get there at
Long Leave time, it’s too far otherwise.”

“But what about
the other way about?”

“You know how I
am situated,” Thalia answered with a sigh. “I haven’t seen my
family, except for a quick visit to Hal since I paired with Josei
and last patrol stint they were only two days run away. I did send
a message. They didn’t reply.”

“Well, I get
your point, no reason why you should both be distanced. I wouldn’t
like it though.”

“Pot calling
the kettle black! You know you hardly see your family, you and
Kenlei are always on the go, everywhere and nowhere.”

“I
make
the time.”

“You’ve got a
family who cares about you,” countered Thalia.

“Perhaps you’ll
meet someone out west and make your own family,” Katie
suggested.

“That’s very
unlikely and you know it,” Thalia was quick to nip that
conversation entrée in the bud as soon as she could. Katie was an
incurable romantic at heart and even now she was vadeln-paired and
therefore unlikely to form a long-term relationship with any man
she never gave up hope of meeting a man who would be in her own
words, Mr Right. “I don’t
want
a husband.”

“You don’t have
to be a married woman to enjoy yourself,” Katie replied with a
nudge and a wink.

At that moment
and to Thalia’s relief, their meal arrived and the conversation
moved on to more comfortable topics.

Josei and
Kenlei ate four pies apiece and then asked for another, as
dessert.

* * * * *

-6-

THE ROYAL
PALACE - FORT - KINGDOM OF MURDOCH - SOUTHERN CONTINENT

It was common
knowledge among the citizenry that although their Queen was their
ruler, with the help and hindrance of the twelve dukes; that it was
those nobles of less exalted rank who performed the day to day
running of her kingdom. Without them, taxes would not be collected
(quite a number rather thought that would be a good thing), roads
maintained, rivers dredges and the regiments responsible for their
defence paid.

These, the less
exalted members of the nobility held a variety of positions within
the government. Some might also have a formal position at Court, in
the Queen’s Household but many did not.

Of the three
men that sat toasting their toes beside the roaring fire, two
served in this dual capacity and the third did not. They were of
much the same age these three and all had entered governmental and
royal service within a few years of each other.

Baron Peter
Taviston was the Queen’s senior auditor and worked in the tax
office. He also held the post of Usher to the Queen’s person. He
didn’t perform the duties of the second. It was an old title and
the duties had fallen into disuse some centuries before. It did
however, earn him a small yearly stipend.

Kellen Robert
Crawford worked within the office of Internal Affairs. This was the
least popular of all the departments, concerned as it was with
crime and punishment; trade; hospitals; internal security and the
like but Robert had survived within it for over twenty years,
probably because he was unflappable, not to be bought and so loyal
to the Queen’s person that his loyalty squeaked. It was also known
that he was one of Queen Antoinette’s favourite attendants at
Court. What also helped was that he was, and most admitted this,
the most likeable man in the palace. Almost everyone liked him, few
believed he was in any way a threat and therefore dangerous and so
he was left alone.

Politics could
be a murky and fatal occupation to embark on within the Kingdom of
Murdoch.

The third man
warming his legs at the fireside was one Kellen Philip Ross. He
worked for the Lord Marshall of the Kingdom, Prince Pierre.

Lord Prince
Marshall Pierre was responsible for keeping the kingdom safe from
harm, externally and internally and also for the safety of the
Queen’s person and those of her blood. He commanded the Regiments
of Murdoch and also the Royal Guard. Back on their native planet,
Earth, he would have held the rank of Field Marshall.

Kellen Philip
Ross’s especial duties were the collation and interpretation of all
intelligence received regarding the state of the borders.

It had been
almost two hundred years since that day when the Larg had last
invaded and no-one wanted a repeat of the killings that had
ensued.

* * * * *

“So what did
young Charles Karovitz have to report Philip?” asked Peter
Taviston, sipping at his mulled wine.

“Quite a lot
and not a lot,” was Philip’s enigmatic reply, “but you know that my
son Daniel went out with him this year? The fact that there wee two
of them made the reports more informative than usual, from the
experienced as well as the inexperienced point of view.”

“Unexpected?”
asked Robert Crawford. Peter Taviston was silent, interested but
the state of the kingdom’s borders was not his area of expertise.
He was interested because if trouble with the Larg flared up then
it would be he who would have to find and redistribute the coin to
pay for it.

“We weren’t
expecting any news of a Larg resurgence,” said Philip Ross, “nor
did we get it; the report from Charles was, how can I put it,
unusual in an odd sort of way. You are aware that Larg kohorts
prowl along the borders even in these peaceful days?”

“Peaceful!”
guffawed Peter Taviston, “peaceful he says! With the unrest in the
southerly duchies, disquiet here in the palace, nebulous as my
feeling is about that just as yet and the dukes still at each
other’s throats more often than not! You have a strange
understanding of the word peaceful my old friend.”

“Peaceful
externally,” Philip Ross amended, “the Larg.”

“Oh, go on, I
knew what you meant, just couldn’t resist it Philip, you always
rise.”

“So?” prompted
Robert Crawford.

“Nothing,” said
Philip, opening his hands in a negative gesture, “least that’s what
Charles Karovitz’s report said. Prince Pierre told me his relief at
the news was huge.”

“But, there is
a but, isn’t there?” asked Robert Crawford.

“Peter here
used the word nebulous a candledrip or so ago, well, Prince Pierre
didn’t wait around for long enough to listen to what my Daniel had
to say.”

“Pour it out
man, It’s obviously bothering you.”

Philip nodded,
“regular paw prints, Larg paw prints Daniel said. It was, as he
described it, as if they were running in a preset pattern, to and
fro, in and out. He told me that you might be forgiven for thinking
that their border scouts were made up of a single kohort of the
same Larg!”

“Impossible!”
exclaimed Robert Crawford.

“Improbable,”
said the more cautious Peter Taviston.

“That’s what I
thought, I knew it was his first time out there and said as such
but he was very insistent. I don’t think there’s anything to worry
about at the moment. Perhaps it was just a mixture of inexperience
and coincidence. Charles Karovitz didn’t set much store by it
though he said Daniel did well.”

“We’ll
remember,” said Robert Crawford wisely, “out of the ordinary
happenings have a habit of turning into happenings of significance.
Thanks for telling us Philip.”

The three then
began to talk about other matters, some kingdom orientated but
mostly about subjects more personal, their families, their horses
and the progression of young Crown-Princess Antoinette’s
pregnancy.

* * * * *

-7-

AN INN EIGHTEEN
MILES TO THE WEST OF PORT LUTTERELL - ARGYLL

The horse was
lathered to the extent of exhaustion. The stable hands at the inn
where his owner had taken a room for the night were cursing his
owner for riding him so hard.

“He doesn’t
deserve such a fine horse,” said the head groom as he laid yet
another horse blanket on the animal’s quivering flank and directed
a couple of lads to start rubbing the stallion’s trembling legs.
“It’s a wonder he’s not permanently winded,” he added caressing his
charge’s ears. “Just look at him!”

“Is his wind
broken?” asked the youngest stable lad with bated breath.

“Actually, I
don’t think it is,” the head groom admitted with grudging honesty,
“but if it was, why, I’d just like to castrate the owner myself,
without benefit of smaha too, that’d learn him.”

“It would hurt
a lot without smaha, wouldn’t it?” asked the lad, diligently
continuing rubbing the stallion’s left foreleg.

The head groom
didn’t answer, he was looking over his shoulder, “where’s that hot
mash?” he was demanding in a loud voice.

“Here sir,”
said another lad, older and taller than Jak, running, but being
very careful not to splash.

“He’s smellin’
it,” said the youngest as the stallion’s whickering head turned
towards the appetising odour. “If he were done in he’d just ignore
it, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes he would
young Jak,” said the head groom with a smile of approval. He had
been right to take Jak on, despite his youth and puny stature. Jak
had an instinctive knowledge about horses, a knowledge the head
groom knew couldn’t be taught.

The man
dismissed all the boys but Jak and the two of them fed the horse
his mash.

“We must make
him eat it slowly,” the head groom instructed Jak, “don’t want to
cope with belly-ache on top.”

“I know,” said
Jak.

“You’ll make a
fine head groom one day,” the old man told Jak.

Jak kept his
face bland as he nodded. He had other ideas, other plans.

“Wonder what it
was that made his owner ride him to the ground like this,” mused
Jak, half to himself. In his world nothing was more important than
the welfare of one’s mount, well almost everything. Jak had a
secret and he had told no-one about it.

The head groom
didn’t answer. He was wondering much the same thing himself.

* * * * *

Upstairs in the
inn, inside the private room he had engaged, the stallion’s owner
was talking in quick, eager sentences to the man he had almost
foundered his horse to meet.

“The artefact,
as you suspected is definitely not in Talastown,” he was
saying.

“We needed to
make sure.”

“I know My
Lord. As far as I could gather, it was there once but not for long.
It was moved from there sometime during the first half of the
seventh century.”

Baron Erik
Halfarm was more than satisfied with what he was been told. It was
also much as his half-brother, King Cadan of Leith had
expected.

“You look as if
you knew that already,” said the stallion’s owner. If he felt
accusatory feelings towards the Baron he was careful not to show
it. His employer was noted for his uncertain temper.

Baron Halfarm
nodded again. “Do you know where it was taken?”

“I got some
information. Fact is, that’s why I’m a bit late getting to you. I
didn’t
know
for sure, but I got the impression from a couple
of people that they suspected it was moved to the Rtathlians of the
Lind. Mostly from the older folks that was, those that remembered
their grandfather’s talk. Some more devious questioning, it’s a
wonder to me what too much ale does to a man. They became less
close mouthed about matters that shouldn’t have concerned
them.”

“Well?” Erik
Halfarm tried not to sound too eager. He didn’t succeed and his spy
gave him a quick look.