IronStar (18 page)

Kirrah unclenched her hands from
their painful grip on Irshe’s left arm.
When had that happened?

“How many are the Wrth?” she asked,
in a not-too-steady voice. Irshe stared over the plains, where the six or seven
dismounted cavalry remaining on the left side, and the fifteen or so on the
right were marching together and forming up in ranks.

“
How many!
” she demanded, in
a shriller voice. “
How many, altogether?
” With a start, he responded to
her pulling on his sleeve, coming back as from a great distance.
He looks
like a man who has just seen his own death
, she thought, as she captured
his gaze.

“Perhaps two thousand. Perhaps
more.” The gaze, gone again, out into the plains.

“Irshe.
Irshe!
Forgive a
foreigner’s ignorant question. Did I not just see a small fraction of that
number, defeat half of Talamae’s strongest soldiers?
Did I not?
” Another
tug on the sleeve brought him back.

“Defeat… Doi’tam-
fira'tachk
will claim a victory. He has, his forces have …have driven off the Wrth. There
will be celebation.”

“Irshe shu’ Kassua, you
listen
to
me! Another victory or two like
that
,” she spat, gesturing to the scatter
of uniformed Talamae lying motionless on the field, “and this city will look
like Akaray’s!”

“Ah, ahem, we will have to move the
farmers inside the walls. Others have attacked our city. Our walls hold well.
They cannot reach us with their crossbows and swords, behind our walls.” He was
not looking at the carnage again, but he was not meeting her eyes, either.
Irshe looked as uncomfortable as she had ever seen him.

“Irshe
’jasa
, as you want
your city to live, tell me this: Have you ever seen walls or gates such as
these, broken down? Has it ever happened?”
That
got a thoughtful look…

“I have heard the O’dai have siege
ships that helped them take the walled city of Ale’appa, across the Sea of the
Sun, two winters ago…”
Right. Siege technology on ships. Ships that could
navigate rivers like the Geera. Technology that could be bought, or borrowed,
or copied. That could be mounted on wagons. That could be pulled by horses.
Wrth horses.
Like an Academy classroom exercise, the gears slipped smoothly
into place in Kirrah’s mind.
Not in my city, you don’t
, said that dark,
dark voice.
Not to my people
.

“I need to talk to Lord Tsano.
Today. Now.” Irshe knew the sound of command when he heard it. He was halfway
to the tower door before he realized that he was following the orders of this
strange woman with the hard, hard green eyes.
Not always hard
, the
thought passed across his mind, lost in the welter of images and dread.

“Politics is more dangerous than
war, for in war you are only killed once.” - Sir Winston Churchill, 20
^th
century warrior and statesman; England, Terra

The meeting, to which Kirrah and
Irshe were invited, was held at the palace in a beautifully paneled octagonal
conference room in the southwest corner of the outer block. Torches and candles
lit the chamber as the light faded from the sky outside. Lord Tsano and the
four Masters Kirrah had met weeks before, essentially the executive body of the
government, sat at the center of a semicircular table. In addition to
Armsmaster Opeth, there were half a dozen of his lieutenants around the heavy
polished table, representing the Palace Guard, the City Guard, the Border
Patrol and the Reserve Militia. They waited in silence as Major Doi’tam and two
of his cavalry lieutenants entered, took their places at the center of the
table opposite Lord Tsano, and made their report.

The final tally for that morning’s
savage skirmish was forty-five Talamae cavalrymen killed or out of action out
of one hundred two taking the field, and sixty-eight horses killed or put down,
in exchange for ninety-seven Wrth raiders down, out of what Kirrah now
estimated at one hundred fifty attackers. Add five more bowmen killed on the
walls, and subtract eight more Wrth shot out of their saddles in that final
in-your-face charge up to the gate and west along the wall. Plus another
sixteen civilians killed when they could not outrun the raiders and reach the
city gates; three more farming families wiped out, each with friends,
relatives, connections, each loss a whole universe gone dark.
Arithmetic
should not use people
, Kirrah thought, fingers clenching and writhing in
her lap as the numbers were reported.

Major Doi’tam seemed calm,
thoughtful. He promised a better effort should his troops be needed again. He
solicited the prayers of Issthe and the priesthood for their efforts. He
requested enlistment to be formally opened for what he considered to be
promotion, that is, voluntary recruitment to his Cavalry, from the ranks of the
border patrol and other mounted forces, since his was ‘temporarily depleted’.
This was solemnly approved. Concerns were raised about the state of the wall’s
defenders, and it was agreed to call up the Militia reserve. When the meeting
showed indications of coming to a close, Kirrah could contain herself no
longer. She whispered to Irshe:

“You are my liaison, the
King’s
Ear
. Tell the King I would speak.” Irshe made shushing not-now motions, but
as Kirrah’s hackles rose to a confrontation, Issthe said, in her smooth, calming
voice:

“Perhaps we would do well to hear
the words of our guest-soldier. She sees with other eyes.”

Kirrah took the indicated place at
the table, to Issthe’s right.
Try to make your points
without
pissing
off the big, strong men, like Angela could have done so skillfully,
she
reminded herself forcefully.

“Today I saw much skill and
bravery.”
Enough flattery, get to the point…
“However I fear for the
soldiers and citizens of Talam. The enemy is many, this was a small part of
their strength. Who will defend the city, if all the brave cavalry spend
themselves thus? Will it be left to the border patrol? Will the life of the
city depend on its walls alone?” Several people tried to speak at once, but the
tall, blond Cavalry Major got the floor:

“It is the job of the Royal Cavalry
to spend themselves in defense of the City. We do not turn aside from it. We
perform our duties.”

“It is not your duty that is at
issue, it is the safety of the city,” said Guildmaster Delima. Lord Tsano
raised a hand, and pointed to Issthe, who said:

“Kirrah’s views may be interesting.
Let us attend. Would you tell us, Kirrah shu’Roehl, what you saw today?”

“Today I saw brave men cut down
through no fault of their own. If a blacksmith uses a spoon, a very good spoon
from the Royal table, to forge a sword – he will just ruin the spoon.” As Major
Doi’tam’s brow darkened and he drew in a breath, Kirrah added: “Just as if the
King used his father’s hammer to serve soup, he would fail. Your men, Sir,”
ignoring several covered smiles and looking directly at the simmering Major,
“were slaughtered by ropes and crossbow bolts, not swords and courage, and your
enemy wisely and wickedly attacked your horses, while your men honorably fought
other men.”
Aha, that one scored!
Before she could press home her
advantage, Armsmaster Opeth leaned forward and interjected.

“The Wrth grow ‘
wiser’
every
raid. They learned long ago not to attack our Royal Cavalry as they attack our
villagers, with swords from horseback. But if they can dismount a cavalryman, they
can easily feather him from a safe distance. Thus they attack the horses, which
as we know receive extensive training and are not swiftly replaced.”
Oho
,
thought Kirrah, noticing the sideways eye-flick towards Major Doi’tam.
If we
protect certain egos, we
can
have this conversation
. She continued:

“On another world, this has already
been noticed. There are other solutions, and there are tasks, essential tasks,
which only heavy cavalry can do,”
until we invented gunpowder and repeating
rifles, that is
, Kirrah thought with a pair of fingers mentally crossed
behind her back.

“Perhaps our guest
Warmaster
would instruct us all,” said the large Cavalry Major, “…or even
show
us.”
Several sharp intakes of breath and averted eyes suggested that he had just
exceeded the bounds of civil behavior. Lord Tsano looked embarrassed, Issthe
looked …disappointed. Kirrah spoke quickly into the awkward silence before
someone could compound the problem by attempting an apology.

“I thank Doi’tam
-fira'tachk
for his invitation. If that is agreeable to others?” Lord Tsano’s eyes widened
slightly, but he nodded at her, and Issthe smiled a small smile of
encouragement and approval. Ignoring the splutter beginning from across the
table, Kirrah continued: “On my world, we learn that every weapon is a tool,
and every tool has its use, and its limits. The mounted man, or at least his
horse, is subject to the bow. The bow is subject to the sword. The man on foot
is subject to the horse. Thus every weapon has its master.”
I
have
to
show these people the ancient game of rock, scissors, paper… but first we have
to invent the scissors…

“The Wrth combine the tools of
sword and horse and bow, and change from one to another at need. This is what
gives them their strength. Their swords alone are no match for ours. As we saw,
when the Royal Cavalry is among their ranks, they die. But first, their bolts
turn too many of the Royal Cavalry into Royal Footmen, whom they can kill at
leisure by becoming archers. Archers on horses.

“I tell you, soldiers of Talam,
there is another way to defeat them. As their swords are no match for yours, we
can make bows which their crossbows cannot match. And I can show you how to
stop their mounted charge, with a new kind of foot soldier.”
That’s put the
fox into the chicken coop
, Kirrah thought, as she paused to gauge her
audience. Intent silence awaited her words, plus a few disbelieving stares from
the cavalry section, she noted.

“Give a foot soldier a heavy wooden
staff, as long as …this table,” Kirrah said, indicating the five-meter straight
side before her, “with a point as long as a long dagger, but broader. Add a
second point, narrow like a spike, and turned to the side, so he can also
strike down from above. A single row of these soldiers, these
pikemen
,
can stop the charge the Wrth brought to your very gates this day.” Widened
eyes, exchanged murmurs, some disbelieving looks.

You want war, I’ll show you war,
you murdering Wrth bastards! I have a whole
history
of war to show
you!
Kirrah continued, growing more passionate as she spoke:

“Behind two rows of these
pike
,
let me put archers, also in two rows. Not archers as you have on border
patrol.” Kirrah had queried Irshe about their simple meter-and-a-half bows, and
knew their range was about eighty meters, less than half that against leather
armor.

“No, I want archers with new,
longer bows, and heavier arrows with
bodkin
points, that will kill a
Wrth at
twice
the distance
they
can shoot from. Archers trained
to shoot three, four times from both rows, while the Wrth charge once. No Wrth
will even
reach
the pikemen.” Kirrah paused, almost panting. Men were
staring at her as though her hair were on fire.
Oh, shit, what did I get
wrong, Angela, help me!
she thought. She felt Irshe moving at her right…
one, two of the men were standing and drawing daggers,
four
men had
drawn,
what
… Irshe had his dagger out too, Kirrah took an alarmed
half-step backwards.
I didn’t think it was
that
bad a speech
…

The lightest butterfly-touch on her
left wrist; Kirrah jerked her gaze sharply left to see Issthe reaching out to
her, a smile hiding behind her calm gray eyes, and saying in that calm, soft,
rich voice:

“Here are your students, ‘guest
Warmaster’. Use their lives well.” With a mingling of relief and the sense of
having just stepped over the edge of some unseen precipice, Kirrah followed
Issthe’s graceful gesture, to see that all five of the daggers were held point
down in fists, and all the fists were rising in the throat-salute a soldier
made to an equal. Or to a leader.
To her
.

She looked at Lord Tsano, who was
nodding with Armsmaster Opeth.

“One quarter, it is agreed, then,”
he said. “These four… Irshe, do you speak for your squadron? Very well. These
five, that will be one hundred ten men. Will that suffice for
kir’shazza
…
a ‘lesson-between-friends, no offense’?”

“Ah, ah… your pardon, Lord, it will
not.”
That’s it, thought Kirrah, don’t just step over the edge, ride a
dropshaft!
Lord Tsano looked at her sharply, both eyebrows raised, a tiny
gleam in his eyes, and waved his hand for her to continue.
And don’t ever,
ever piss off this gentle giant, at least not while on the same planet,
registered
someplace in Kirrah’s mind where she kept her list of never-make-enemies-with.