This novel has reached its present form with the help of many others. Members of the writing group, NovelPro, who critiqued this and other novels in the Iskander series; my local group, Crowsnest Writers, for their interest and feedback; my wife, Shirley, for much patient proofreading; my editor, Lea Schizas, and publisher, Deron Douglas, for the finishing touches and stunning cover, must all be mentioned. I prepared a map to go with the Iskander series, and it can be downloaded from the 'maps' page on my website www.christopherhoare.ca. Philips were kind enough to let me use their original without charge as my base for building Gaia's new geography. Appropriately, the map is a survivor of history, as I scanned it off the page of the geography book my mother used in school somewhere around 1910. Perhaps the rebellious Connie Cook was the prototype in my mind for the Gisel Matah of these stories.
On the far side of New Market Square the door to the Felger mansion, the Lingdon headquarters of the richest merchant venturing family on Gaia, swung open. Gisel Matah touched the butt of her automatic in its shoulder holster as she stepped away from the customers at the vegetable stall she'd used for concealment. Her note had worked. Jeeze - at last! Two men descended the mansion's steps into the late afternoon sun, pausing in the narrow forecourt behind the iron railings to look about them. One was her messenger, the other a tall and well proportioned fellow with fair hair showing from under an unadorned hat. About twenty, she'd guess - near her own age. He had to be Yohan Felger, the man she was after.
The stall-keeper stepped out from behind his wares to follow her to the corner of the barrow. "Now wot you want to look at, girl?"
She scanned the square quickly to see if anyone else had taken an interest in the two men's appearance. Zagdorf's men had to be here somewhere - they were watching the Felgers. She picked up a cabbage from the stall and spoke in her best city accent. "Ow much?"
"Four groats."
She'd need to argue the price to fit her servant-girl disguise, a kirtle of homespun wool and travel-stained jacket, with a simple coif covering her long dark hair. "Four Groats each? My Lor' they mus' be from 'is Majesty's own garden."
"Don't be so cheeky, my girl, or I'll box yer ears, I will." The stall-keeper's smiling eyes belied his threat. Gisel felt a flash of affection for him - just a common citizen of Lingdon, a city from an era five hundred years earlier than the one she belonged to. A city of dark cobbled streets overshadowed by the upper stories of houses that sliced up the sky, with its commerce hauled on pack horses and ox-drawn drays to sailing ships that moored in the east river docks. Life was brutal here, but people loved their families, were loyal to friends, and could sometimes be kind to strangers. They faced every disaster with a cheeky, deprecating humor. She liked them, but were they worth dying for?
"Would yer change yer tune if I paid for three?"
"About time, I'd say. You damn near wore out enough greens for a gallon o' soup with yer pokin' and pickin'."
Gisel handed over the coins, her eye on the young man and the fellow carrying out her errand. The mansion behind them loomed over the street as if it owned it, which it likely did. It was taller and more ornately decorated with stone carvings and gargoyles than the mansions and town houses ranging around the other three sides of the square. Its lofty facade stood almost high enough to hide the Temple of the Eternal Flame on the hill behind - a hill occupied by St. Paul's in another city, in the world Gisel had come from.
She didn't answer the man's last jibe - at last she'd picked out her enemy's watchers in the square. At a stall draped with cheap linen and used clothes, the stall-keepers reacted as the mansion's door slammed shut. The oldest seemed to direct two others, one to hurry away among the market stalls, the other to pick up a knobby ended stick and follow Yohan Felger and the messenger down the street. They stepped out like soldiers - had to be Commandante Zagdorf's new Imperial bully-boys.
Gisel picked up her purchase. Threading her way between the stalls she hurried toward the Felger mansion to follow Felger and the messenger. When she caught sight of them again they were walking at a smart pace toward the lane leading to the Brook Steps. Zagdorf's man tailed them, about fifty yards behind. She reached a hand behind the cabbages she cradled, into her dress to activate her throat mike. "Are you there, Marc?" She was glad to have back-up, but not so pleased to be working with an ex-lover.
"I saw them, Gisel."
"I'm following Felger. Where did the other man go?"
"I'm tailing him. I think he's going for reinforcements."
She hurried to the lane, hoping her ruse as a servant rushing the cabbages to an impatient cook held. Zagdorf's man strode along ahead of her as Felger and his companion took the turning into Goldsmith Alley. A quick good look behind -no one following. She speeded her step - not too much - a servant girl wouldn't run. But a servant girl wouldn't have this crawling feeling down her spine. She'd found the body of a murdered agent two days before. Breathe, Gisel - keep it cool. You've done this before.Zagdorf's man paused at the end of the street until the unsuspecting duo got out of sight. He seemed to know his business. As long as he didn't notice he was being followed as well. When a group of tradesmen crossed the street between them, she walked on quickly to catch up. A man and woman exchanged some comment as Gisel stepped across the street's stinking refuse to go around them. Careful, girl - ease up - don't act out of character .
As she gained on the watcher she placed a hand into her waist pack. She carried a hypodermic loaded with phencyclidine she could administer with one hand. The only safe place to act was in Goldsmith Alley. It was usually quiet, and with this brisk wind from the river, cold enough that no one would tarry in doorways or dawdle about their business. Around the corner, Gisel caught up to Zagdorf's man. He barely gave her a glance. She walked on past him as he waited in a doorway for Felger and the messenger to get out of sight. When they disappeared from view, the street was deserted. The watcher sped up to pass her. Gisel dropped the bundle of cabbages between his feet.
As the fellow swerved aside to dodge them she kicked his ankle. With an angry cry he went down into the alley's muck. She stooped over him as if trying to help. With a slap of her hand she jabbed the needle into his arm. He gave a groan and slumped face-forward into the mud.
Gisel rolled him onto his side, and sprang to her feet. She hiked her skirts, a quick sprint and she was half a street away.
She slowed to a walk as she reached the next intersection. Yohan Felger and the messenger were just leaving Goldsmith Alley where it opened out on the foul smelling river bank. Unlike the alley, the embankment was thronged. Some travelers descended the steps to reach rowboats and wherries waiting below, while others stepped onto the embankment after disembarking. As she made for him, her quarry halted at the head of Brook Steps and began to gaze about.
This was her first opportunity to size up the young man whose name she'd only heard three days before. Meister Felger wasn't wary enough - he'd never noticed the man following him. On the other hand, he was a strapping fellow, and had obviously recognized her message entailed more than a quick stroll down the street. He wore a thick woolen cloak, which he'd need on the river and, she suspected, a weapon concealed beneath its folds.
She slowed her pace while she weighed the situation.
Were the Felgers the right partners for Iskander - was this fellow the right one to hear their proposition? Her people desperately needed to build up a technological infrastructure before their Earth-made equipment wore out. Her own father was the engineer directing Iskander's development program, but she wasn't sure his idea to advance all the citizens together would hold up when their hi-tech started to break down. The Felgers could cause him to switch to a corporate oligarchy like Earth's; merely making the richest inhabitants here even richer. But unless they found capable partners with access to scarce resources, they'd be stuck in this pre-industrial age. If they couldn't strengthen their military position before the Empire launched an attack, they were doomed.
She stared hard at Felger's face when he turned his attention from the river; as if she could penetrate his mind to learn answers to her questions. Either he would support Iskander against the Empire, or betray them. Which? She'd never learn the answer unless she allowed him into her life.
"I don't see him, your Honor." Gisel heard the messenger say.
Yohan Felger gave an impatient snort. "You're sure he's not here?"
Gisel hurried up to them, knowing they were expecting to find Mawgan, her coxswain. In this male dominated society she'd had to get a man to hire a messenger. Felger turned toward the shops and taverns lining the river road, barely glancing at her.
"Well, I cannot wait here for him all day. Perhaps we'll find him in one of the taverns hereabouts."
Gisel decided to conceal her identity behind her assumed accents a few minutes longer.
She walked past to the head of the steps, and then halted with a little cry. She pretended to trip and stumbled toward him.
Yohan Felger scanned the embankment, his mind so filled with the strange note that had brought him out into the streets, he barely gave the pretty young woman the slightest attention - until she almost fell into his arms.
"Be careful, young Mistress, or you'll tumble down the steps."
He let her pull away again, but she staggered and almost fell. "Ow. I think my ankle is twisted. May I prevail upon you to help me down those slippery steps?"
He dropped his arms and drew back. Her language was appropriately formal, but her voice held a definite foreign accent.
A gentleman must be careful for cut-purses and floozies plying their trade near the river, but this girl sounded respectable enough - even if she seemed alone. She was attractive rather than beautiful with a modest curve of bust under her kirtle and jacket - but her dark eyes held him. They were deep enough for a man to drown in. By her dress and speech, he judged her a servant from a good household - perhaps even daughter of a good family, forced into service by exile. He couldn't see the responsible male companion who should be with her, but he considered her request.
"I'm alone, Sir, except for my boat's crew. I hope you will not judge me forward for speaking."
"Not at all. Certainly I can help - put your arm about my waist while I support you."
As they descended the stone steps together Yohan considered her more carefully. Her manner struck him as bright and confident, she was more than a drawing-room decoration. Likely some important personage had awarded her a position of trust because of it. She was tall for a woman, not many inches less than his own six feet, so likely she'd had a good childhood without threat of starvation. A young woman whose company might prove pleasurable.
At home again after two years at the academy, Yohan had not been this close to a pretty girl for weeks. His father had kept him confined to the counting house and he'd not had time to call on his old friends in the city. He felt dashing and debonair with an arm around her waist.
The messenger, still standing at the head of the steps, called out, "I see the man, your Honor - in yonder boat!"
Yohan looked across the water to see a ship's gaff-rigged cutter heading toward them. The seaman aboard dropped the sail and stood in the bow to fend off.
"That's my boat, Meister Felger," the young woman said, smiling at him. "Thank you for coming in answer to my message."
Yohan stopped; his eyes sought hers. "Your message? You know my name!"
"Yes, Sir. I'm here to take you to a meeting. It's not safe to hold it in the city, come with me - "
"Come with you...impossible. I do not know who you are."
"My name is Lieutenant Gisel Matah - of Iskander Security. My duty is to escort you to a ship downriver."
He stared. Iskander! The very name meant intrigue and danger. These strangers had flouted the Emperor's will in the Kosmoneos; they had transformed the Autarch of Tarnland's war into triumph with remarkable weapons, and now...here they were in the Lingdish Kingdom. His pulse quickened, what did they want with the Felgers? This could be the excitement he'd been craving. Anything to get out of that counting house - well...almost anything.
The boat the messenger had identified reached the steps and the seaman, in a striped jersey and blue breeches, stepped out over the bow, a painter in his hand.
"Jump in, Lieutenant. Best we don't tarry."
Yohan let go of the girl to take a step back. He'd better take care of his safety. He reached a hand into his cloak to feel for the pistol he'd tucked into his belt. It wasn't there.
"Is this what you're after? Sorry, Meister, I thought it safer if I took it."
He glared down at the pistol in her hand - his pistol. Oh curse! What a fool he had been. The first pretty face to come near him - and he was caught.... But wait, she was not pointing the pistol at him, neither had she cocked the flintlock. He flicked his eyes quickly to her face.
She smiled broadly and shook her head. "Not a chance." She turned and banged the muzzle hard against the stones of the embankment wall. The pistol-ball and wad dropped out into her hand. Tossing them into the water, she presented the empty weapon to him with a slight bow. "You're not being kidnapped, but get aboard. One man has already died for this business."
Yohan's mouth refused to shape his protest; why had he been so foolish? If he were able to swim he'd jump in the river, foul as it was, to make his escape. He could run up the steps, but likely the seaman was armed, or could catch him by the legs before he could get far. For years he had dreamed about taking dangerous assignments for the Felger enterprises - always his fancies had ended with honor and success. Now, he had little option but to do as the young woman said, and take his chances.
Even as he accepted the inevitable, a loud call from above drew his attention. Another fellow in waterman's clothes, breeches tied at the knees, glanced back over his shoulder as he ran toward the steps.
"Are you coming aboard. Marc?" the young woman called up to him. "Hurry."
This man answered by descending the steps rapidly, pushing past the messenger waiting for his payment. "Yes, soldiers behind me."
The girl - he could hardly credit lieutenant - raised a handful of coins to toss to the messenger at the head of the steps. She swung about and took him by the shoulder. "Let's go, Meister Felger. No time to argue."
They all scrambled aboard. The seaman pushed off against the embankment wall and sculled out into the river current. The young woman urged Yohan to a seat in the stern as they set about raising a sail on the mast and gathered way when it filled. She pulled off her coif and shook her hair free before seating herself and taking the tiller. "I'll bet you've a million questions. I'll try to answer some as we go."
"Whose soldiers are following us, the King's?"
"No, the King of Lingdon has no grievance against us. They're the Emperor's - he wants to warn everyone off us. Didn't Commandante Zagdorf bring that message to your father?"
Had he? His father had met the Commandante a week ago, and been short tempered afterwards. Of course, he hadn't explained his concern - not to his son.
"What ship is our destination?"
"An Iskander vessel anchored just above the estuary. It's waiting for the tide, so you'll be coming back to the city later."
The seaman returned to take the helm and the lieutenant moved to the thwart. They sat without speaking while they slipped into a shadowed channel beneath the Lingdon Bridge. He struggled against the urge to raise his head, hoping none of the householders on the bridge would choose this moment to empty a chamber-pot out of a window.
As they emerged once more into daylight, Yohan studied the other water craft on the river. None of the occupants seemed capable of giving help - he abandoned all thought of getting away. The little cutter positively danced across the waves, an occasional splash of spray wetting his face as the coxswain steered them around other river traffic; anchored wherries awaiting their fares, and rowboats pulling across the current. The riverbanks showed a fringe of mud, and the smell of river slime and city waste wafted to him on the breeze. Ahead of them lay the city docks, with larger merchantmen anchored in midstream and smaller craft beginning to list at the wharfs as they grounded on the falling tide.
The young man leaned forward to offer his hand. "Lieutenant Marc Chronon."
Yohan took the proffered hand, hoping he was not committing himself too much. Not even the King of Lingdon dared cross the Emperor's will, but these two seemed to think little enough of it. "The Felgers are merchants and bankers, not soldiers. Why should we involve ourselves with you?"
The young woman leaned toward him. "We need associates with your capabilities. We're offering a business proposition - and a way to benefit yourselves and many others. Director Mich'l is waiting on the ship down river. He'll tell you."
"I'm not sure I want to meet him. If the Emperor's soldiers know I am aboard...it may bring trouble to the Felgers."
"You want to be put ashore? Too late now."
The off-hand way she said it! What right had she to dismiss his concerns so...? "The Felger enterprises are closely bound to the Emperor. More than half our business is conducted within his domain. Do you think I would jeopardize that?"
She shook her head. "Iskander is contacting the Felgers outside the Empire to keep our affairs secure as well. No, we don't want that jeopardized."
She seemed so self-confidant, so arrogant. What a little minx - he must get the better of her. "But you already have - what can your words be worth?"
"I'll make you a promise - if you want to back out, I'll tell Zagdorf myself."
Marc reached out a hand. "Hold on, Gisel. Don't be too reckless."
"Reckless be damned! I mean it, but I don't think Meister Felger will turn us down." She took hold of his arm. "Not when you hear what the Director has to say. We can offer the Felgers more profit than they've ever known, in steel, in weapons, in navigation - in things you've never heard of. But we also need much from them. Our factories require minerals that only your mines can supply. We plan to change this world for the better - with schools, hospitals, responsive government. We'll do whatever it takes to defend our plans against the Emperor. Give the Director a chance to show you how."
Yohan found her words extravagant, but Iskander did have a great reputation. As a junior in the Felger Enterprises he knew little of policy. Until he had an important business contract of his own, the Baron and the other family heads would never take him seriously. However, if he gained this kind of information to pass along. "What you propose is very dangerous. Even here in Lingdon, my father cannot dismiss the Emperor's wishes. You know how tightly he controls the mainland with his Civil Guard, his secret police, and the spies."
"He's trying to do the same here, that's why we're in this boat. We also conduct our business in secret."
"But my words with you are of small import. Something as serious as deceiving the Emperor would need lengthy consideration by all the family heads."
"And how do we arrange that?"
Yohan hesitated, what had happened to the soldiers Marc mentioned? These Iskanders seemed oblivious to danger, but apparently they didn't know everything. "Only the Baron can call such a meeting."
"Baron? Never heard of him."
"Baron Anton Felger is the family head. He lives at Castle Weshortz, in Wasbia."
The two lieutenants looked at one another. "Where the hell is that?" Marc asked.
Lieutenant Matah closed her eyes a moment, as if in thought. "Wasbia is another state outside the Empire, Marc. Backed up against the Alps. Think Bavaria and the Czech Republic rolled into one."
Yohan stared at them. What strange words! What names were these? Perhaps the Iskanders were a little mad, as well as dangerous.
She grinned. "We grew up with a different geography. I won't try to explain."
"How would we get in touch with the Baron?" Marc asked.
Yohan looked away. The Baron had not been heard from since beginning a visit to Lubitz a month before. Lubitz was at war with Iskander and their ally Tarnland - best he keep the Baron's plans to himself. "My father would have to write a letter."
"Okay. When you meet Director Mich'l he'll give you the details he can put in it."
As simple as that - did she think the Felgers would jump at Iskander's convenience? His father hated their very name. Yakob Felger loved the Emperor - even welcomed his iron handed control. Should he explain how unlikely it was Father would consider their request? He wasn't given the opportunity, the seaman stood up to peer over the watercraft on the river behind them. "Be them the soldiers, Lieutenant?"
Both lieutenants turned. "Yes, that's them," Marc said.
About a dozen men in half armor rushed down a wooden staircase to a jetty downstream of Lingdon Bridge, a cable's length distant. They scrambled into a lugger moored there, some hoisting the sails to the masthead as others pulled on sweeps to leave the crowded shallows. Even at this distance Yohan could see resolute faces as the musketeers leveled their weapons over the bows.
"We're in a race," Gisel said. "It may get rough. I hope you don't mind a little excitement, Meister?
Marc sized up their pursuers and then rose from the thwart to help Mawgan crew the boat. They'd need more sail power to hold their own against this lugger. He looked toward Gisel for her agreement but she slid across to take the tiller and carried on talking to Felger instead. Don't need your approval, girl...but it'd be good to get a smile....
They unfurled the second jib. "How fast do you think that lugger is, Mawgan?"
Mawgan paused momentarily in his task. He was a Lingdish mariner who'd been recruited into Iskander service about a year before. Maritime Command wanted him but Marc had snagged him for himself, needing experienced seamen for his shipyard security operation. "A two master. On a beam reach she'll match this'n." Mawgan raised his head to the breeze. "Nor-easterly - t'aint good. Round nex' bend us'll be easin' sail. They'll catch us fer sure."
Marc nodded and tried to gauge their increase in speed. Nothing yet - they were just drawing among the seagoing ships and lighters in Lingdon's docks. The tall ships with their clattering rigging and lofty sides blocked the better part of the wind. At least Gisel was taking pains to steer them to the weather side of the merchantmen when she could. He returned to the stern and perched on the weather gunwale where he could watch their pursuers.
She hardly glanced at him. "I'd like to know why your father turned Iskander down, Yohan."
"I was not aware he had."
"He not only turned our approach down, he shopped Bertzin to Commandante Zagdorf."
Felger frowned. "Shopped? I find your speech difficult."
Gisel shrugged. "Sorry - betrayed. Zagdorf killed him."
"What? Are you certain?"
"Damned certain! I found him hanging upside down in his shop. His throat cut and bled like a goose at a butcher's stall."
"You did? How terrible for you. But I cannot believe my father had a hand in such savagery. You must be mistaken." Felger's face seemed to lengthen and he blinked several times. "Poor Bertzin - murdered! Father and I went on several business trips with him. He was such an upright person."
"Probably why Zagdorf wasted him," Marc said. Better change the subject, Gisel - before the lad bursts into tears. Poor rich boy doesn't have your experience in this.
Mawgan shouted to catch Gisel's attention.
"What?" she said.
"A point to starboard, Lieutenant. There be an anchored ship ahead."
"Point to starboard. Done."
Marc reached a hand to the tiller. "Give me the helm, Gisel. Or else let me brief Meister Felger."
Gisel glared back at him - touchy little devil. Iskander Command probably shouldn't have teamed them up again. Not since he broke their relationship...after she -
"What's the matter, Marc? You still think I need your help for everything?"
He stifled the angry retort in his throat to speak in an even tone. "You can't see enough - too many wherries and lighters here to take a chance. One wrong move and those soldiers will catch up to us."
Gisel nodded toward Felger, who seemed taken aback at their curt exchange. "I can manage - but...if it'll make you feel better..." One end of her mouth tested a smile as she slid far enough away from the tiller to let him at it. "I need to tell Meister Felger what to expect when we reach Stellar."
She had no seniority over him, but since her exploits at sea and in Tarnland - she'd been decorated for opening up the fortress of Skrona to a lightning assault - she seemed to think herself the senior partner. He sighed inwardly as he made a rapid survey of the river traffic - she'd probably never been in love with him, just looking for love. Now, Iskander's indigenous troops called her the Wildcat. Their engagement wouldn't have lasted - even if she'd never had the affair with Lord Ricart. Damn! Forget that - it still hurt.
All the while she'd been making her name in action, he'd been assigned to setting up the infrastructure for their intelligence network. Originally, he'd thought being an electronics tech gave him a leg up. It was only in the past year that he'd started to make a reputation as Security chief for their Lingdon shipbuilding operation.
He gauged his course past a merchantman leaving a dockside berth to start downriver. Her crew swarmed across the yards to set a headsail. A glance at the soldiers' lugger showed they'd gained.
"Are we leaving them behind?" Gisel said.
Felger turned. "I believe they are somewhat closer, Lieutenant."
Marc nodded. "They are, and Mawgan reckons they could catch us when we ease sheets past the river bend."
Mawgan narrowed his eyes. "Skipper o' thatn's no lubber - he've half a knot on us."
Gisel gave a twisted grin. "They won't try anything with all this river traffic."
Marc noticed they'd drawn abreast of the Grey Tower, on the riverbank at the eastern corner of the city walls. "No, but we're almost out of the city. We'll be on our own further downriver."
Gisel grew one of those know-it-all smiles that always angered him. "Open the waterproof locker behind the mast, would you, Mawgan? I put three assault rifles in there."
Marc snapped a frown at her. "You didn't!"
Mawgan left the mainsheet and stepped over a thwart to open the hatch. Marc shook his head as Mawgan pulled the first rifle out. "You'll catch shit for this - did you get authorization to use them?"
Gisel laughed. "Let me worry about it. Commander Goar said to help myself."
"I know you get away with things just because you're cute. Just don't push your luck."
"Thanks, Marc - I respect your professionalism too."
Yohan Felger seemed bewildered at the conversation. "What is the problem?"
Gisel rose from the thwart to take the first rifle from Mawgan. "Iskander has advanced weapons, you've likely heard of them."
Felger leaned toward the rifle, his eyes wide. "Everyone knows Iskander has armed the Autarch of Tarnland's armies with wonderful muskets and deadly artillery."
Mawgan went back to his position forward, leaving Gisel to pull the rest of the rifles out. She knelt beside the mast, checking them over and unfolding the stocks. She passed one to Mawgan and then another to him. "The magazines are full, and there are three loaded spares. I think we've enough firepower to keep those bastards at a distance."
Yohan Felger started back momentarily, his face bearing a disapproving expression. "These are the muskets from Tarnland?"
"No, Meister," she said with an easy smile, raising herself to sit on the center thwart. "Those muskets are single shot rifles - these are their wicked uncles."
Marc watched her, settling herself calmly as if she didn't care about shocking the lad - as if she didn't even care about the pursuit. It's no goddamn joke - the rifles wouldn't help if that lugger ran them down. You're tough, girl - but not as tough as you make out . He decided to help Felger, who seemed baffled at her modern slang. "Our Tarnland armies have weapons which are one step above those of their enemies - but these are more advanced. We could never supply enough ammunition to let the Tarnlanders shoot as rapidly as these. But we're supposed to get top level permission to use them."
"Why?"
Marc regarded him a moment. Tell this guy everything and we'll never be able to let him go, but maybe that was Gisel's game. "Iskander's capabilities are much greater than you people imagine. We just don't want everyone to know how much more."
"Right," Gisel said. "But these rounds won't do more than dent soldiers' breastplates above two hundred yards. We'll have to let them get real close."
Marc frowned. "Probably won't penetrate at all."
"Yep. So we're gonna hafta pull a clever trick."
Marc watched Felger raise his head to stare at Gisel. He was coming under her spell already. "What kind of trick?"
She grinned. "Don't know yet. I'll think of one."
Marc and Gisel chuckled at the dismay written on Felger's face.
Mawgan called from the bow. "River bend, Lieutenant Marc. Make ready to go about."
Gisel raised the rifle to her shoulder and sighted on the soldiers' lugger as Marc eased the cutter into the bend. She pressed the laser rangefinder button - still two hundred yards. Not gaining as much as her companions believed, but it was easy to jump to conclusions with torture and certain death bearing down on you. Even so, it was important the soldiers didn't see the Stellar when they boarded. Iskander had put all their spare electronic equipment from the starship aboard - changing the little vessel into a spy ship. They wanted to keep the Empire from learning her identity. It would set them back years if anything happened to her - over and above the loss of all the bullion aboard now.
"There be an old wreck on the mud, Lieutenant. See 'in?" Mawgan said.
Marc leaned out to the lee-side. "I do, Mawgan. That'll give us protection for an ambush. Think we can steer in behind it?"
"Have to be smart with th' sails - do my best."
Gisel followed their gaze. On the inside of the river bend lay the ribs and spars of an old barge sticking up out of the water. "That's the perfect place. See it, Yohan?"
Yohan nodded.
Mawgan moved about the cutter, testing the knots on the mainsheets. "I'd be obliged if you'd get for'rard , Meister Felger. Throw out th'anchor as soon as us gets head to wind be'ind the wreck."
Felger showed a firmer manner as he went past to the bow. Maybe he wasn't as frightened as she'd thought - being chased by soldiers was obviously a new experience for him. Maybe the rifles had given him more courage.
Gisel moved to the weather side to stay clear of the mains'l when Mawgan lowered it. She divided her attention between the lugger and Marc's movements at the helm as he made ready for their manoeuver. He was surly today, not like the old Marc. Even seemed jealous of the attention she gave Felger.
As they neared the wreck she helped Mawgan furl the second jib. Marc eased them closer, their speed dropping. She cocked her assault rifle and set the safety. "Set to fire three-round bursts."
Into the apex of the bend, Mawgan let the mains'l and gaff down with a clatter of falling spar and canvas. Gisel watched the lugger behind; the soldiers were holding on to the sail as long as possible, following the fastest river current. Their sturdy vessel began to swing wide as the wind backed, the musketeers in the bows stood upright to shoulder their pieces.
"Look out! They mean to give us a volley."
Marc swung his head. "At that range? They'll never hit us."
"I'll put them off their aim." She twisted to raise her assault rifle and flipped off the safety.
She fired a burst - then another. A cloud of powder smoke from the lugger told her the soldiers had also fired.
One of her shots found a mark - a soldier threw up his arms and toppled out of sight into the bottom of the lugger. A thump against the planks made her glance down. One musket ball had hit them - likely the rest went wide, into the water.
Mawgan began to furl sails out of the way. "Steer in as soon as us passes the wreck, Mr Marc."
Gisel realized working together at the shipyard had given them confidence in one another's boat handling. The single jib was enough to keep them closing on the wreck. "Looks good, Mawgan. Pick up your rifle as soon as you drop the jib."
Out across the river, the lugger's sails began to flap and her crew sprang to the dipping ropes. The musketeers had no time to reload before jumping to help the crew.
"We're abreast!" Marc shouted, swinging the helm. Mawgan started to furl the jib just before the wind took it aback The cutter turned under the lee of the wreck, its speed decreasing as it came head to wind.
Mawgan reached a hand to young Felger. "Drop yon anchor, Meister."
Gisel didn't know if the lugger's crew had seen their manoeuvre, they were busy with their rigging. With the cutter coming to anchor she noticed increased roll in the river back-eddies, though not enough to ruin their aim. The soldiers across the river lowered both lugsails to the deck, then struggled to haul the first around to the other side of the mast. The lugger still had way, being heavier, and the current took it toward the far bank. But it was now beam on to her and within range.
"Ready!"
The lugger drew level. Three assault rifles blazed. Gisel aimed toward the stern - the steersman was the most vulnerable.
She couldn't hear above the firing din, but plainly saw a man pitch overboard. The lugger's foreyard followed, dragging the top of the sail into the water. Two men fell in, trying to rescue it. She fired again.
The lugger swung beam on to the current. Its gunwale dipped into the river. Then its masts swung wildly. The lugger rolled onto its beam ends and began to take water.
"They'm aground!" Mawgan whooped.
"Okay, crew. Let's hoist our anchor and get under way."
Mawgan and Yohan grabbed for the anchor rope. Gisel pulled the mainsail boom over by hand and found the headrope for the gaff. Marc left the tiller to help her hoist the sail. "We'll start with only the jib first, Gisel. Grab the tiller when we head out into the current."
The gaff and sail rose to the top of the mast, flapping limply as Marc kept it from catching the wind. She took her rifle with her as she went to the helm. "Will do, but I want to give that lugger another burst when we go past."
"They're swamped. I can see heads in the water."
"Even so, I don't want any of them to get a good look at us. This is only a start - we could meet them in the city tonight."
The Imperial Embassy in Lingdon occupied several acres of park beside the Whitehall Palace on the western outskirts of the city. It was surrounded by high walls, its gates protected by towers - not quite high enough to flaunt the Empire's power in this kingdom, but enough to be a constant reminder to the king that he might become a vassal if he chose to disagree with the Emperor too often.
Late in the evening a disheveled and mud-spattered horseman cantered in to report to Commandante Zagdorf. The Guard Commander hurried him to the Commandante's office where he saluted, fist to brow, before relaying his information. "Sergeant Hrutich sent me, Commandante. The lugger have gone aground in the river - two men drowned, three shot - the Iskanders... The Iskanders is is is got away."
"What!" Zagdorf jumped to his feet. "You let them defeat you?"
The Guard Captain sprang to the side of Zagdorf's desk. "Where are the men now?"
"Coming back by cart, Sir. They'm goin' to the Imperial Factor's warehouse in the docks, Commandante."
Zagdorf took up his plumed helmet from the edge of the desk. "I will investigate this
personally. Hrutich is an experienced man - something must have gone very wrong." He stifled the fury he felt - this was not his men's fault. He should have been with them, but he had been in conference with the Ambassador when word of young Felger's movements reached him.
He hurried along the corridor, the Guard Captain huffing along beside him. Both wore formal half-armor, rapiers swinging against their hips, and carried their helmets under their arms. Zagdorf was no taller than the Captain but much heavier built, with arms like a wrestler's and a neck so thick it was impossible to tell where his skull began. The embassy guard at the side door barely had time to bring his musket to attention before they thrust the door open and dashed outside.
"You have horses ready?" Zagdorf demanded.
"Around the corner, Commandante. But, should we try to ride through the city? These foreigners will take it badly."
"Defile them! Were they wise, they would help the Emperor's servants conduct his affairs, not stand aside as they do. May the day come soon that we can make these Lingdoners subjects of the Empire."
They strode around the corner of the embassy building into the forecourt. A soldier stood holding two restless cavalry horses. Zagdorf frowned, these animals were not getting exercise enough - he would have an order issued to correct that. He was proud of his Trigon heritage - a thousand years of warfare when armies of mounted bowmen conquered their world. That cavalry tradition had been far away from here - in distance and time - on another world. His own father had been seventh generation born here, and had passed on a few half-forgotten stories of the castaways in the starship. The Trigon ship had attempted a worm-hole jump and become
stranded in this alternate universe. These facts were almost legend to Zagdorf, but he was glad he had learned as much as he had - now he must contend with Iskanders. The Emperor was convinced they were also star travelers who had suffered a similar fate.
Zagdorf went toward the nearest horse and approached within the creature's sight. When the animal accepted his presence, he moved back to the saddle and mounted. The Captain was already astride, but leaned over the animal's neck to calm it.
"You told me you had enough men near the Market to overpower the Iskanders."
The Captain's reply was jerky from the horse's skittish prancing. "A whole troop, and the crew of ...the lugger. If the watcher...had not been found in the street unconscious...perhaps they would have...been better prepared."
"These are our own picked men, not some embassy guards. How do you account for their failure?"
The Captain pursed his lips and busied himself with his mount instead of replying. When Zagdorf urged his horse forward, he followed wordlessly. The guards on the embassy gate threw them wide as Zagdorf spurred toward them and the two horsemen swung out onto the Lingdon highroad in the direction of the city gate.
As he rode, Zagdorf strove to formulate a new plan to capture the Iskander agents operating in the city. He did not need to guess their business. The Felgers were the one merchant company with access to the resources the Iskanders would need. He had already summoned the senior partner, Yakob Felger, to the embassy and advised him to report any contact. The Lingdish metalsmith, Bertzin, had been too foolish to heed a similar warning, and had paid with his life.
Within half a league they slowed to enter the west gate of the city. With curfew only an hour or so off, the flow of carts and pedestrians returning from a day in the market gardens had already increased. Zagdorf indicated to the Guard Captain that he should ride in front to clear them a path.
The Guard Captain turned his head as he slapped the reins to comply. "What do we know about these Iskanders, Commandante?"
Zagdorf shook his head as he guided his horse to follow the other's mount. "It is a secret. I will tell you tomorrow."
He needed to see what they had done before judging how much information to impart. The Iskanders had been his concern for two years - even before the decision about them had been made at the Imperial Grand Council six months before. The Emperor had set many of the officials present onto the task of mastering these Iskanders. More than this, his Imperial Highness had agreed with Zagdorf's daring proposition; that they enslave Iskander technicians who could restore the Trigons' derelict star-cruiser and its weapons. His spying task had been extended to capturing some who could prove capable.
None of this could be spoken of outside the highest circles of the Empire's leaders.
He looked up at the West Gate of the city as he followed his Guard Captain under it. This was the second country where he'd spied on them, and this time he'd found someone worth capturing. Only a woman, but she could be the means to a far bigger prize. Countering the tricky wench was proving more difficult than he'd envisaged - perhaps today he'd have better fortune.
Their mounts' hooves clattered under the stonework of the gate as the throng of citizens drew aside to let them pass. The soldiers of the gate regarded them with disapproving eyes, but the golden orb insignia of the Empire on helmet and horse trappings stilled their objections.
"Let's get away from this crowd, Captain."
"Yessir! We should go along the river road."
Arriving at the warehouse near the docks, Zagdorf ordered the Guard Captain to requisition horses from a nearby livery stable. The cart the soldiers had used to return to the city still stood in the forecourt, the reek of river slime and traces of mud on the uniforms of the two men at the foot of the stairs gave weight to the trooper's earlier report. He swung from the saddle and took the wooden staircase up the side of the building two steps at a time. As he entered, the smell of the spices the Empire traded with these northerners filled his nostrils.
Grof Hrutich - the one-eyed veteran who had been his color sergeant at the Battle of Mallovik greeted him inside with a clenched fist salute. Zagdorf's eyes adjusted to the yellow gloom from lanterns lit against the lowering of the sun. He looked down at the wounded men, laid on the bare planks.
The first had the pallor of death, a sign he well knew. "That one will not live long. Ply your herbs and poultices on the others. Where is the man who was asleep? Has he spoken yet?"
Sergeant Hrutich spoke slowly, as if unsure of his commander's anger at his bungling. "Briefly, Commandante. He is a man set to watch the Felger mansion...he acts as if bewitched - stares and rolls his eyes."
"Let me see him."
The man opened his eyes momentarily as Zagdorf bent down, putting a hand to his rapier to keep it from jamming against the rough planks of the floor as he crouched closer. The man's skin was pale and he sweated as if he too had taken a gunshot wound. "Who did this to you?"
The man shook his head and raised a hand to his brow. "Wench."
"What wench?"
The man's hand shook as if palsied. One of the soldiers spoke for him. "His words make little sense, Commandante. He raves about cabbages, then of a great pain behind his eyes raging like a fire."
"He has been enchanted," another soldier growled.
"Witchcraft," the first agreed.
Zagdorf stood and gestured for Hrutich to accompany him to the outside stairs. He sent the guards away and put out a hand to grip the sergeant's collar. "You have never failed me before."
Hrutich didn't meet his eyes. "Three men and a woman in a boat, Commandante. We followed them downriver until they fired on us as we rounded a bend. A burst of gunfire - as if a whole company fired on us. Two men lost overboard, and these wounded - I would have followed even so, but the lugger went aground on the falling tide."
"Rapid gunfire? At what distance?" Undoubtedly Iskanders .
"A hundred paces...no more. But half the men was hit."
A clatter in the forecourt below signaled the arrival of the Captain with the horses. Zagdorf signaled for him to come up the staircase before turning back to Hrutich. "Consider this your lesson in Iskander treachery. Next time you will be better set to catch them."
"Yes, Commandante. I'm sore vexed I had no chance to learn more. But this bewitched fellow was posted to watch the Felger mansion - I would hazard a guess that one of the men came from there - a young man, very tall."
"That would be Felger's son," said the Guard Captain, arriving at the head of the stairs. "He is young and full of enthusiasm for new things. He needs be taught to respect the Empire."
Zagdorf nodded. "He will be. I want these people captured, even if it takes you all night. Send riders down the riverbank to find where they were going - there is still enough light for a search. I want men posted at the mansion - don't let anyone in or out without knowing who they are."
The Guard Captain looked at him sharply. "You mean we should stop everyone?"
Zagdorf breathed out a sigh of annoyance. "No. Nothing to anger the Felgers. I don't want them sending a complaint to the Emperor." The trouble with watching over such a wealthy enterprise was the Felgers had powerful friends at court. Likely many of the nobles were only friends to protect delinquent loans from collection, but it would be a mistake for him to make enemies of any of them. "Just watch closely and identify them - say you are charged to protect them from footpads. You know what to say. I will go there myself and talk with Yakob Felger. He promised me he would report any happening like this."
"What shall we do with the Iskanders?"
"Capture them - use all the means you have. But I want them alive."
"The woman is a witch, Commandante. She should suffer a witch's fate."
Zagdorf nodded. "She will burn." But not, he thought, until she had served his purpose. He would use the maddening potion to learn what she knew. He would offer her in ransom to lure the others into a trap. When he finished with her - she would welcome the flames.
The sun had set when they rounded a gradual bend in the river, and the few ships waiting for the tide in the fading daylight stood out like ghosts against the darkening east horizon. The river was three cables wide below the tidal shelf of Purefleet, so the merchantmen seemed spread across their path, and the swirling eddies and salt smell from the returning tide a hindrance to their progress.
Yohan couldn't pick out the kind of ship he'd been expecting - he'd thought to see a huge line-of-battle ship, with lofty masts and tiers of powerful cannon. The kind of vessel rumor suggested Iskander had built at Portisbay. Instead, Lieutenant Matah steered for a perfectly ordinary three-masted merchantman.
"Is that the vessel?"
"What did you expect, Meister - a man o' war? Stellar looks insignificant but she hides a few surprises."
Gisel Matah had been a surprise too. He had heard of Iskander's warrior women - one had conquered a fortress in Tarnland - was this one typical? She was attractive with her olive skin and piercing dark eyes, but her manner of speech...so forward! She acted with such self-assurance and had such a villainous familiarity with shooting and death. Those muskets...rifles they'd called them - his father would never believe his description of the clash. He'd been told Iskander's people held to the shadows, only coming into the open when they could disarm their opponents with deadly force. It seemed true, but it was not the Gaian way.
The angular flintlock of his pistol dug uselessly into his side. She'd taken advantage of him on the Brook Steps. This was almost the kind of Felger business he'd dreamed about - with wild companions on a dangerous adventure, but being abducted by a slip of a girl wasn't to his liking. "I heard about Iskander ships being built at the Earl of Waldern's yards on the south coast."
"They're still new and working up at sea."
Yohan nodded but sat silent as the cutter bounded down the last stretch of water. His nerves still jangled from the fight. He'd seen death before - people run down by wagons or starved at the roadside - but never a shooting affray. Not like theirs - the Felgers had to learn more about their methods. It wasn't up to him to accept involvement in the double game these Iskanders suggested, but he must memorize everything. These people were so remarkable...what important information might he gain aboard? His father would likely disavow any proposal he accepted, but the Baron would want a full report.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he looked up with a start as they approached the Stellar's stern. Although it was dusk, the little ship bustled with activity. Two powerful globes hung over the port side, away from the nearest moored merchantmen, lighting up the surface of the water as bright as day. How could they make lanterns shine so brightly?
An officer on deck hailed them, "Ahoy there, Lieutenant Matah. Make for the gangway on the port quarter."
As their own craft approached the landing platform, Yohan watched the activity around a small boat moored under the lights. He could see three strange figures aboard, with the faces of men but...apparently, great webbed flippers instead of feet. A merman, some nightmare monster from the deep, tumbled backwards over the stern and vanished from sight. Another similar figure surfaced alongside and lifted an arm for help. The others pulled the creature into the boat. Yohan was an educated man, he disbelieved in witchcraft, but the hairs of his head prickled.
"SEALs," Lt. Matah said, following the direction of his stare. "Some of our swimming troops."
"They are men?" He could see the creature pull its face tubes away, they seemed connected to metal flasks on its back. What had they done to make men into sea monsters?
"Swimmers equipped with devices that let them breathe underwater."
"They wear these contraptions? They are not...?" He stopped himself before he blurted enchanted . "I have never heard of such things."
"An Iskander secret. One of many we might let the Felgers in on."
As the cutter bumped against the ship's side, Mawgan grabbed a line to make them fast. Yohan climbed over the side as Gisel took hold of the gangway rail and held the boat steady. Two sailors ran down from the deck above and she gave them instructions to prepare the cutter for hoisting aboard before following him. On the deck they were met by another young woman in military uniform and the two exchanged crisp salutes.
"This is Lieutenant Hannan Badry, Meister Felger. She commands Stellar's SEALs."
Yohan gingerly shook the hand the young woman offered. Her grip was as firm as any man's. Were many of Iskander's officers women?
"What gives?" Gisel said, with a glance over the side.
"We fouled some underwater wreckage as we swung at anchor," Hannan said. "I've sent divers down to assess the damage to our coppering."
"Coppering?" Yohan asked.
"The ship's bottom is sheathed in copper to protect against shipworm," Gisel said. "It's an old trick."
"It is not old to me. I have never heard of such a thing."
She smiled and shook her head. "An old trick somewhere else. Perhaps I'll be able to tell you, one day. Now, we'd best get aft - Director Mich'l will be waiting for you."
Yohan followed Marc and Gisel to the companionway at the end of the spar deck where they climbed to the quarterdeck. They stopped briefly to introduce him to Commander Goar and the Master standing near the quartermaster at the wheel.
"We'll be under way soon," Goar said, a tall thin man with grey hair, wearing a blue greatcoat with gilt epaulets. "The tide will be high enough over the shallows in half an hour."
"They really mean to negotiate the river at night?" Yohan said to Gisel as they walked to the small cabin at the stern. He noticed the other ships across the river lying dark and silent - obviously waiting for the morning tide.
She nodded. "Don't worry - it's quite safe. I told you, the Stellar holds a few surprises."
They reached a guarded cabin door. Yohan took note of the sentry's equipment, a dark blue one-piece garment, a close fitting helmet, and one of the Iskander rifles with bayonet attached. When Gisel responded to his salute, the man knocked, turning the handle and moving back at an answer from within.
Yohan stepped inside. The glare of light from glowing panels set between the deckhead beams dazzled him, they seemed brighter than sunshine. He blinked and took stock of his surroundings. This cabin looked like no ship's cabin he'd ever seen. He took in strange metal cabinets, the litter of papers on the table, bulkheads covered with maps, and several shining boxes that occupied much of the remaining space. One of the boxes spoke, in a language he didn't know - he forced the thought of witchcraft away and focused his thoughts on predictions of possible artifices he'd heard at the academy. These were wonders of that sort. At the cabin's center a grey haired gentleman rose to greet him. As he reached to grasp the proffered hand he noticed Gisel Matah observing him with the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Director Mich'l was pink and round - modest enough he wore no periwig - the most unwarlike Iskander Yohan had seen so far. Yet he seemed more a master of the arcane than did any absent-minded philosopher at Heerford, and the academy had its share of astrologers and thaumaturges. He was surrounded by devices whose purpose Yohan couldn't even begin to guess. He felt like a child among kings. The alien-ness of this outwardly undistinguished ship...Lt. Matah had been perfectly correct. A few surprises, indeed. He was in the presence of secrets that threatened to turn his world and hard-gained learning upside down. He didn't like the feeling.
"Thank you for coming, Meister Felger," the director said, ponting to an empty chair before seating himself behind the desk again. "I'm sure Lieutenant Matah has explained the difficulties we've experienced in opening discussions with the Felgers - the terrible business with an agent murdered."
"I'm pleased to meet you, sir," Yohan answered, feeling a chill travel along his spine at another mention of the grisly murder. "I'm afraid I knew nothing of the tragedy until the Lieutenant told me. I knew Bertzin well - we traveled together more than once."
"Really? Please accept my condolences," Mich'l replied, reaching out to extinguish a lighted box he'd been working at. "Let's hope things proceed better this time."
"The Lieutenant mentioned something about trading agreements."
"Yes. We Iskanders are very capable inventors, we can build excellent devices, but we don't have the business experience the Felgers do. We need someone to partner our trading operations - to sell our products and obtain other materials we need. It would be a true partnership, of equals. Are the Felgers interested?"
"I explained to the lieutenants - such a question must be directed to the head of the family, Baron Anton Felger. Only he and the senior family directors can decide."
"Where is the Baron?"
Yohan tried his best not to pause too long before making some answer. "He is visiting the branches, I believe. He visited us at the end of last year."
"Meister Felger said his father would need to write," Marc said.
Yohan nodded. "Yes, to suggest a meeting."
Mich'l picked up a sheet of paper and a metallic writing instrument. "Would it help things if I were to provide a list of items that we wish to trade in?"
"I'm sure it would. I do know your steelmaking has made our own iron and steel a losing proposition this past year."
He followed both men's looks toward Gisel.
She grinned at him. "My father runs the steelworks. He also directs our assembly plant in Tarnland. We can undersell anybody with his technology."
"Why don't you give Meister Felger a run down of those products?" Mich'l said.
"All of them?"
Director Mich'l smiled. "Almost all."
While Yohan watched, spellbound, she reached out to one of the lighted boxes, turned it toward him, and played her fingers over a small platform - smaller than the keyboard of a spinet. Pictures materialized on the face of the box, one after the other. It seemed as if the box were a living canvas.
"This is a steam locomotive - it pulls wagons loaded with ore to our steelworks - here's one at speed. A cannon - thirty-two pounder - you wanted to see one. This is a view of the blast furnaces...this one at night as a new charge is loaded...this is a steelmaking hearth..."
After a few moments, Yohan closed his mouth. He had determined to memorize everything, but found it impossible. Half of what she showed him was incomprehensible. She kept pressing the key and presenting new lighted pictures, as lifelike as if the box were a window on another world.
"I think you've seen enough," she said with a smile. "I'm overloading you?"
He blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Is there more?"
"Do you have a week? I really think the Felgers need to go to Tarnland - see this for themselves."
"It's what we hope, Lieutenant," Director Mich'l said. "Do you accept the need for that, Meister Felger?"
"I...I think so. But no one will believe me."
"Quite. I suppose there's no way your father will come aboard when we dock in the city?"
"None at all, I'm afraid. If he had been at home when the lieutenant's note arrived I'm sure I would not be here."
Gisel grinned. "I figured that. It was why I asked the Earl of Waldern to take your father away on business first."
Yohan glared at her. She was outrageous but very shrewd. He must try to establish his own credibility. "You also said Iskander needed things from us. What are they?"
"Metal ores and raw materials, mostly. You have mines in places where we know ores we need exist. I don't think you refine them now - does the name chromium mean anything to you?" Director Mich'l peered at him. "No...I thought not, so we'd need to work with the Felgers' miners. Come over to the map."
"How do you know where these materials are?"
All three looked at him, studying him silently until he felt like an old horse put up for sale.
"I think it's your turn, Marc." Gisel said.
Marc nodded and ran a hand down the map before turning to face him. "You've already seen we are not...normal here. The things we do, the technology we use."
"Your strangeness is undeniable."
"We don't come from this world...but from another one, very like it. Can you believe that?"
Could he? He began to think he could. "A professor at Heerford speculated it was possible for mankind to sail among the stars. He said it had been done, though he would not account for the source of his knowledge. Is that what you mean - you are from somewhere beyond the moon?"
Gisel nodded. "A long way beyond."
He noticed Marc grin at her. "Our world is not just far away in space. It's in a parallel universe - an exact twin to this, but as inaccessible as last year, or yesterday. The only path between the worlds is out beyond the sun, and even if we found it, it's impossible to navigate back. We know where the minerals we want are - in the same places we mine them on our world." He placed his hand back on the map. "The mountains and seas marked here, the contours and the outlines, are very accurate but we don't have many place names. If we used the place names we're familiar with, they wouldn't mean a thing on Gaia. What's this country called?"
He placed a finger on Tarnland and waited. Yohan saw little reason to answer. "That's easy, I think we all know that."
"Yes, but it's Sweden in our world. This one?"
"Thalia."
"We'd call that the Baltic States - Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. This one?"
"Whonmark, the greatest enemy of your Tarnland friends."
"Denmark - strange how the names are so similar. On our Earth the two countries fought wars as well. This sea?"
"The Inland Sea. What do you call it?"
"The Baltic."
Yohan leaned forward to the map. "I see you do have Lubitz marked. The city state on the southern shore of the Inland Sea. Another enemy of yours."
"Yes, they're having a rough time of it in the Tarnland war. We have a naval blockade around the city now. Nothing can get in or out."
Yohan peered closer at the map to hide any expression on his face. That was where the Baron had been going - was it possible he'd run afoul of the Iskanders? How could he find out without giving away too much information?
Gisel had begun to have doubts about the contact. It wasn't that young Felger was obstructing them - he seemed genuinely interested. He wasn't too stupid to understand the issues - but maybe that was the problem. He was a bright young man, who just knew nothing of Earth technology. But she had seen how quickly he adjusted to this modern office setting. He was being cagey - knew more than he was letting on. If he was going to pass on the information to this Baron, she'd like to hear what was actually said.
Felger still stared closely at the map. "What have you done with captured ships - those challenging the blockade?"
"If they're enemy, they become prizes - their crews are imprisoned in Tarnland."
"But neutrals - passengers for example?"
Gisel stared at the back of his head. What was he getting at?
"We do our utmost to safeguard those who do us no harm," Director Mich'l said. "We have even chartered neutral vessels to help passengers complete their voyages."
Yohan turned his head to them, but she couldn't tell whether the answer pleased him. He returned to his chair as he raised another point. "What arrangements will you make about payments, Director? My father's family only deals with people who can maintain a positive account."
Mich'l sat back and steepled his fingers. "We need to pay in bullion, we actually have a shortage of coin. But we are able to deposit a large sum in your vaults at once - this ship carries a consignment."
"Really? Is it bullion from the Empire's colonies in the Kosmoneos?"
Gisel laughed. "Is it stolen? No, but I don't doubt the Emperor would claim it. He thinks everything in the Kosmoneos is his."
"There was a treaty -"
"A fraud. The new continent belongs to everyone."
"Is that why Iskander sends pirates?"
"We send privateers, and are willing to help any free mariners trade there in safety."
Director Mich'l closed his hands and sat forward. "Yes, Lieutenant - but I don't think we wish to pursue disputes. We are interested in positive agreements."
Gisel frowned. Positive agreements - no doubt a gentlemen's agreement to divide up the wealth between them. How much did money mean to this Felger? "Then let's show him, Sir. He will see the bullion bears our own assay marks."
"A good idea, we'll go below. Would you lead the way?"
Gisel led them down to the main deck, plainly equipped with hammocks, mess-gear and small cannon, as any other Gaian ship would be. Stellar could pass a cursory inspection by local authorities in any harbor she visited - even to the extent of having false hatches to a hold that appeared to be stacked with sacks and barrels. The real hold had a different entry; she pressed her palm to a panel set in the bulkhead. A security door opened, leading down into the ship. Yohan and the director followed some steps behind her, deep in a discussion about bills of exchange and letters of credit. Marc brought up the rear.
"My education was in political science, with a minor in economics," Mich'l was saying as they reached the foot of the companionway. "I want to establish an international banking system such as we were used to on Earth."
Gisel frowned - did all the senior staff want to turn this into another Earth? If Earth was such a goddamned paradise, why did they leave it to establish a colony half way across the galaxy? But she knew they were all engineers and earth scientists, whose job had been to establish the infrastructure of a modern society on the new colony - why was she surprised they wanted to do the same here? But this wasn't Earth, and it wasn't Colony N3 - it was a unique place its inhabitants called Gaia.
She hated to champion her father - they'd been at odds ever since mother divorced him - but he was the one leader who seemed to understand. He understood the assault rifles from the SWAT team equipment package were almost useless. They made a lot of noise; they'd frighten any enemy - once. But when seasoned soldiers realized they had no penetrating power, they'd treat them with contempt. It was why Henrik Matah had developed 8mm rifles with the kick of a dray-horse. It was why their cavalry revolvers were 10mm beasts she could hardly hold steady for a second shot. She carried an Earth-made 7.62mm automatic for her own protection - it was easier to hide.
She always did her duty as they asked her, but one day she expected she'd part company from the rest. She didn't want to set up an Iskander Incorporated to run this world; she'd like to see the Gaians develop their own free societies. And the Felgers might not be the best people to help - damned bankers who saw nothing but profit and control. Might as well let the Emperor continue his tyranny.
As they walked forward into the hold she noticed how Felger stared about. Over their heads were the intake conduits for the water-jet propulsion. The fusion generator and pumps loomed out of the darkness astern. The hold stored all of the equipment Stellar used to serve as spy ship and command center - a couple of subskimmers to take the SEALs into hostile harbors; an ROV to do their deep diving; the pilotless platform that carried their radar scanner high enough to watch ship movements 300km away; some small remote control spy planes. The forward end of the hold held the control center that would direct their battlefleet - when it was at last at sea and ready for action.
Just before she reached the control center door, she stopped at a new addition. "Will you open the strongroom, Director? They didn't tell me the combination."
Marc lowered his head to peer at her beneath his brows. "You think they could trust you?"
"Lord Ricart offered me a castle. I think Iskander could do as much."
She saw the pain in his eyes before he could turn his head away. Oh, Marc! You poor fool - you still care.
When the strongroom door slid back, Mich'l led them inside. "There's a light switch on the wall near you, Gisel."
"Got it."
The space was about twelve feet on a side, and about the same high. Gold bricks and wafers, interspersed with silver bars, made a stack all the way to the ceiling. She turned to look at Felger, this time he couldn't hide his astonishment.
"There's about ten million Ducat's worth here," Mich'l said. "What's that, about a quarter of the Empire's annual revenue?"
Yohan Felger stepped forward to lift one of the gold bricks - it took both hands. "And you cannot tell me where this comes from?"
"A placer mine in a part of the world no Imperial explorer has ever seen. We have gold dredges on a river."
"A location you knew from your own world?"
Gisel nodded. "Right. The silver is from an underground mine in another location."
Felger stared at her. "You realize these assay marks mean nothing? I do not doubt you can recast metal and place your own stamp on it."
She grinned at him. "Sure we could, but we didn't know someone as suspicious as you was going to inspect it."
He looked away. "I think my Father would expect better proof."
Mich'l picked up a gold wafer. "I'm sure you have the means to assay this. Its purity will testify it's from no Empire mine."
Felger took the gold and stared down at it. "How long did it take to accumulate this hoard?"
Mich'l regarded him silently. Gisel didn't think he would answer, but he did. "This is last year's production."
"And what will you do with it?"
"Finance a bigger war, build new machines and factories, buy materials that we need. I can place a million in a Felger vault - a deposit, so we can operate with your letters of account."
Gisel thought Yohan seemed at a loss for words. "You'll tell your father that? Take a first installment in gold with you, as proof of our sincerity."
"By the Holy Flame! Do you think I'd want to carry a fortune in gold through the city at night?"
She smiled and patted his arm. "No problem. I'll be escorting you home."
A couple of shaded green lights gave the night quarterdeck of the Stellar just enough illumination that Gisel's eyes adjusted to the dark. In front of her, the Master stood near a quartermaster at the wheel, while Hannan moved from her post beside him to speak to her troopers at the starboard machine gun. At sea, Stellar was usually controlled from the Operations Room in the forward hold, but for their night journey on the river this setup was more conventional - not that anyone ashore was likely to observe it. Gisel led Yohan over to the temporary instrument display beside the binnacle. "This is how we can go up-river safely at night."
The deck beneath her feet vibrated slightly from the rush of water in the water-jet pumps. She could see from the read-out that Stellar sailed in the middle of the channel at a smooth five knots. The sails were furled on bare masts and the sky was a deep purple with the brightest stars showing between scattered clouds. The incoming tide they followed stirred smells of dead things and rotting weed as it covered the mudbanks.
The glowing screen before them lit up the frown on Yohan's face. "I do not understand. What is this thing you are showing me?"
How much should she explain? It was not just a technical matter - if she told him too much, and then the Felgers opted to become enemies... Scopes would want him killed - he'd likely give her the job. Ugh. She must tell him enough to sound like an explanation, though. "Another viewscreen - like the picture display I used inside. This one is a window that shows the view around the ship. Have the Felgers heard rumors of such things as this?"
"Not to my knowledge."
She smiled. "Good. That reassures me about the strength of our security. You see the picture - that's the view ahead through the dark."
Yohan bent closer. "It moves."
"Because we're moving. Now I'll turn it to the depth screen."
"Wait a moment. What light does it see with?" He raised his head to stare forward.
"The same as our eyes use, but we use a machine to collect more of it." She keyed a forward quarter view, and the cottages of a village on the riverbank showed up. Without the screen, the place was invisible, not even a candle flame to be seen.
His eyes alternated between the screen and the deep darkness. "It seems as if your machine sees through owl's eyes."
"Good observation, Meister. Call it a mechanical owl." She switched the view to sonar. "Now this is the image of the riverbed ahead. You see how the ship is in the deepest channel - it also shows submerged obstacles in time to avoid them."
Yohan stood watching the movement for almost a minute before turning to her. "Why then did the ship foul some wreckage - as Lieutenant Badry told us?"
Wow - he'd struck her as a pompous ass with his primitive academy education - but he was really quite sharp. "We fouled it while swinging at anchor - I expect the sonar was switched off."
He stood watching in silence a moment before leaning forward to examine the keyboard. "How does this marvel work?"
"Ah. If I knew all the technical details, I wouldn't tell you. It's possible we might supply things like this to the Felgers if we work together, but we don't want them able to pass on the design to anyone else."
"The Emperor Zarl?"
"Right. The technology isn't too hard to duplicate - for anyone who has our training. Perhaps not as sophisticated as these."
"These come from the different world that Marc told of? You do not make them?"
"Right."
"Tell me more of that. Why did you leave to come here?"
Gisel discarded the bare bones of the recruit briefing, but struggled with a way to tell him the essence of the Iskander crew's misfortune in ways he might understand. She also made sure not to reveal how small that crew was, merely a hundred engineers, technicians and earth scientists, nor the fact it had included hardly any military personnel. She'd been drafted to help fill that desperate need.
"But we didn't intend to come here. That was a mistake. Unfortunately we cannot rectify it - we're stuck here." She saw the scowl form on his face. "And you're stuck with us. We're trying to be good citizens, but it's difficult."
"Why is it?"
"We want to make the kind of life here we are used to - attempt to introduce the better features of our old world to improve this. The innovations and changes you've been told and seen here. You and your family are naturally concerned about the business you've taken years to build up, but my father and I dream of a society where everyone has your kind of opportunity."
"What, you'd expect the Felgers to give away their fortune?"
"No. You would still be leaders of society. A better governed society. You need lose nothing when everyone has enough food, a home and better health. The Felgers, too, benefit from living under good laws where they're free from bandits and rapacious rulers."
Yohan shook his head slowly. "I admire your sentiment, but what you suggest is not possible."
"I'll agree it's not easy. We found such a policy makes us enemies - not everyone wants the world changed."
"The Empire, no doubt. It seems reasonable that the Emperor wants only the changes he decides upon."
She looked from his face to the stars in the night sky. Was it reasonable? Maybe as reasonable as her opening fire on his soldiers. If only she didn't have to - that she would wake up one morning and be able to walk to the mall....Shut up, goddammit! Stay in the present . "I think it's honorable to cut the Empire down to size. I think it's fair and just for every nation to have its independence. Come to the bow of the ship as we talk."
She waited for him at the bottom of the steep companionway before speaking. "Iskander was dispatched to provide engineering and scientific support to a fledgling colony halfway across the Milky Way. We used something very new - apparently not perfectly understood - the worm-hole space-jump. Not worms as in the soil, of course, but a hole in space. Instead of arriving at the new colony we didn't leave the Solar System at all, but the Earth we landed on was this one - a duplicate of ours in an alternate universe. Does any of this make sense?"
He nodded his head slowly. "In a way. But what is there in your story to make us trust the Iskanders? I thought I had learned some radical ideas at the academy, but your words have shocked me."
"I hoped they might inspire you."
He smiled. "When my stomach returns to its proper place I might see some good in them."
Gisel shrugged. "I know, I'm a revolutionary at heart. The injustice and want I see here makes me that way. But I'm not running Iskander, Director Mich'l would never accept one quarter of what I say. You'll find Iskander's policies less un-nerving than mine. But I think words on their own are just so much air - so I hope our actions show our honor. Give us the opportunity to prove ourselves trustworthy - not just to the Felgers - to everybody."
"The risk is greater for us than for you."
"Perhaps. The rewards are worth it."
They reached the rail above the beakhead and Yohan looked down at the water. "You can only offer talk of those rewards at the moment."
"You have Director Mich'l's list of useful items to evaluate. If you see the things in Tarnland - steam pumping machinery, steam power for ships that allows them to make passage without the need for a fair wind -"
"Power as this one has?"
"Similar. This one isn't powered by steam but by a technology beyond it. We can only use that right now, not recreate it. In a hundred years or so, we might be able to build fusion generators on Gaia - my father tells me it could take that long to build the infrastructure and train the people."
"Your father knows all these details?"
Gisel nodded. "He is our chief engineer."
"You must be very proud of him."
The words stopped her a moment. "I guess I am, in a way. He sees the need to make our advances fit the people here - to be meaningful and useful." The old man was a lot more sensitive to the Gaians than most of them - but she couldn't tell him that. "I would hope partnering with the Felgers improves our attitude."
"Your father taught you his mechanical arts?"
"Some. I never completed my own schooling - I'm one of the few Iskanders without an advanced specialty. That's why I'm a security agent - I'm expendable."
Yohan frowned and shook his head. "You seem very knowledgeable."
"I've picked up a lot, here and there. I do understand a fair bit about engineering but it's a league wide and an inch deep. The rest of our people are specialists with advanced training in their fields. My father pulled rank to get my brother and me to accompany him on the mission - he was newly divorced and didn't want to leave us behind."
Yohan blinked rapidly. "He and your mother are...?"
"Split. I realize that's very shocking to your Gaian morality. It's not any laughing matter for me, either. I was sixteen and quite a good gymnast, so he wangled my passage as a physical education trainer. He promised to make me an engineer by the end of our ten year stint."
"You would like to go back to this world you speak of?"
"We were supposed to. I guess it's immaterial what I'd like now - I have to make my life here, as best I can."
"Hmm. Why did your father agree to your taking this dangerous job? Does he not care for your safety?"
"Not sure he was asked. We are not on good terms right now -"
"I wish my father would give me the opportunity to prove myself. I'm afraid the Felgers are very conservative that way. We are supposed to have the company procedures ingrained into us before we are allowed any freedom."
They stood in silence for many minutes - following their own thoughts - surrounded by impenetrable darkness and the faint sounds of their wake - the riverbanks far enough away that Stellar could be cruising through empty space.
"What is Marc's job? He is a special friend?"
"Marc is just a colleague." She clamped down on memories of their closer relationship - did it end only a year ago? She realized his jealous need to control her had contributed to her affair with Lord Ricart - not that she needed to build excuses. She was still fond of him, but not as a lover. "He's a member of the Iskander's flight crew, and there's no call for his position now. The Iskander is in a stationary orbit10,000 leagues above the equator. We only have a couple of people aboard, keeping up the machinery we still need. My brother is one."
Yohan tilted his head back to stare up into the sky. "You mean - up there? You can reach the stars?"
"The stars are a long way beyond Iskander." She hoped he didn't ask any more. They had a spacecraft to fly up to the starship, though the maintenance expenditure on the Intruder for such a flight was almost prohibitive. Best not to tell him anything about the Intruder's service as air freighter - for his own safety.
Within two hours of their setting out, Yohan stared across the water at a few dim lanterns on ships moored beside Lingdon's docks. The Stellar's crew silently let go fore and aft anchors as they hove to in the mid-river darkness. A longboat was hoisted overside for them and a few minutes later he found himself back in the city. He followed the bulky figures of the two Lieutenants into the silent streets and alleys. They both wore what Gisel had called combat gear. The heavy vests and close-fitting helmets looked impressive and powerful but he still slipped his hand to the holster under his cloak, for reassurance. He now carried the Iskander pistol Gisel had given him. The city had a night watch, but they were too few to defend against the bands of footpads and ruffians who ruled Lingdon's nights.
He could see Marc's back just ahead of him and hear his cautious footfall around the city's muck and refuse littering the narrow thoroughfares. He hadn't caught sight of Gisel since she had settled the strange glasses over her face - apparently of the same artifice as that which gave Stellar night vision - and slipped silently into the darkness.
"She's like a leopard in the night," Marc had commented, the admiration in his voice very clear.
She was a very remarkable woman, though he found little in her behavior to approve of - her language was often rough. As they ate supper in Stellar's mess he'd been told she and Lieutenant Hannan Badry had been rivals for the love of the same man - a noble Tarnland officer who commanded Iskander's cavalry. Yohan thought the two girls' sharp banter sounded good natured, but wasn't expert enough in female conversation to be sure.
As they negotiated the darkened city streets, a leather pouch bounced against his back. It contained a letter of invitation from Director Mich'l to send an investigative party to Bergrund, and a memorandum of the matters they had discussed aboard Stellar. It held heavier items too - a novel timepiece, the samples of gold and silver, a very sharp knife of Iskander steel, several writing implements which needed no inkwell, and more ammunition for the pistol at his hip.
Gisel had advised him to be cautious with his first shots - "you'll find it quicker on the trigger than your flintlock. And it has a hell of a kick." The mechanism was fascinating. It carried the pistol balls with their own loads and rotated to fire six shots in quick succession. No wonder they were so devastating in the Tarnland battles. Gisel said Iskander could be induced to sell such weapons to the Felgers, as long as they did not trade them to Iskander's enemies.
As he walked through the shadowed streets Yohan drew the pistol from its holster to savor the heft of it in his hand. Perhaps his father would agree to his dealings with the Iskanders if he could convince him of the profits he'd gain. Even if the money proved lesser, what an advantage for him to enter into his own business quickly, and not be his father's underling for years.
Marc stopped. He had to swerve aside to avoid bumping into him. Gisel had emerged from the darkness and they were speaking quietly.
She turned to him. "Is there a back way into the Felger mansion, Meister?"
"Most certainly not. We have only one entrance for safety. What is the matter?"
"New Market Square is crawling with Empire soldiers."
"By the Sacred Flame!"
She laughed softly. "I'm exaggerating, but I counted a dozen. I doubt your father would be impressed if we had to shoot our way in."
"He would be horrified!"
"I'll try to pull some kind of trick to avoid it. Any ideas?"
"What about going over the roofs?" Marc suggested.
Yohan shook his head. "The mansion was built far enough away from the other buildings to prevent such access."
"I'll have to create a diversion to draw them away. Marc - you and Meister Felger wait as close to the mansion as you can. Be ready to run to the door, guys."
Yohan opened his mouth to protest, but she was gone before he could utter a word.
Marc nudged him with an elbow. "Come on, we must get in position."
As they crouched in the shadows of the last building on the corner, Yohan felt his pulse race. He gripped the Iskander revolver tightly to keep his hand from trembling. Was he frightened? Perhaps not - certainly excited. The wait was an ordeal. He couldn't see a thing ahead in the square - now completely dark before moonrise. A strong breeze blew the rank smells of the day's discarded refuse into his face. He wanted to ask Marc a question but he'd motioned him to silence.
What did Gisel intend to do? She carried one of the assault rifles and some things she called grenades. It didn't seem right for two men to wait in the dark while a girl attacked a troop of soldiers.
A loud explosion came from the far side of the square. The empty stalls, unseen in the dark before, stood out momentarily in an angry red glow.
Men screamed.
Another explosion quickly followed the first. More shouts and cries. Soldiers between them and the Felger mansion jumped to their feet. They disappeared into the dark - heading for the sounds of fighting.
Marc slapped him on the arm. "Let's go! Run!"
Gisel tossed her last grenade and jumped to her feet. Several of the market stalls had caught fire. Damn - that wasn't part of her plan. The troopers would see her running for the mansion - it reduced the advantage of her night vision goggles. The strong breeze fanned the flames. She dived under something as two Empire soldiers came into sight. The reek of rotting fish almost gagged her - great, she had to pick a fishmonger's barrow to hide under.
The soldiers ran past - then two more. That must be the section watching the mansion door. Marc and Yohan would be moving.
She scrambled to her feet and ran between the stalls the soldiers had appeared from.
Shouts sounded behind her. "Stop! There he goes!" That had blown it - damn the burning stalls, she'd hoped the troopers would be hunting for an unseen attacker in the dark.
A musket boomed and the ball whizzed past like an angry bee.
God's shit! Someone was on the ball - it was going to be a firefight after all. The cobbles were slippery under foot, but she grabbed the upright of another stall to swing into a side passageway. She pulled off her night vision goggles as she ran - they were no longer helping. The frail stall structures swayed as her pursuers swung around the same corner.
Soldiers' nailed boots clattered behind her. Someone shouted, "Halt!" She heard the gunpowder whizz-bang of a pistol report and winced. The shot must have missed - she was still running.
More shots.
She wanted to stop and fire back, but dived between two stalls instead. She rounded the end of the stalls and saw her way open to the mansion door, a hundred yards away. The fire on the other side of the square flared higher and in its light she saw Marc and Yohan running ahead of her.
More soldiers dashed out of the stalls - between her and the guys. They raised muskets.
She skidded to a halt - the muskets fired - a boom and great gout of powder smoke that quickly blew away. She fired two bursts into them and resumed running. The soldiers scattered under her fire, disappearing among the stalls.
Fifty yards ahead she saw Yohan Felger clap a hand to his arm and stagger to a halt. Marc grabbed him around the waist to keep him from falling. A light flared in the Felger's open doorway. Several men ran out from the mansion ahead. Two came down the steps to help while another stood at the top holding up a lantern.
Gisel sprinted harder. She caught up to Yohan and grabbed his unwounded arm, urging him into a run. "Quick, Meister! You can do it."
She and Marc half dragged him through the mansion's open gateway. The men at the bottom of the steps rushed forward, one in footman's garb and the other with a white periwig - tall and thin, in velvet and fur. He pushed into Gisel's place at Yohan's side. "Where are you shot?"
"My arm, I think. I'm sorry, father - " he turned to Gisel as they stumbled across the forecourt. "Sorry for slowing you down."
"Don't sweat it. You're doing fine."
Fresh shots sounded. A window pane in the mansion shattered.
The elder Felger cursed angrily. "Save your breath! Help get my son to safety." He followed his words with a new effort which almost lifted the young man up the steps. "Quick, inside, everybody."
Gisel turned to fire a long burst as the others rushed to the door. She didn't aim but the effect was enough. The soldiers scrambled away, the area in front of the mansion emptied. She dived through the door as the footman swung it closed.
She scrambled to her feet and looked around her. The entry hall of the Felger mansion was larger than most people's houses in Lingdon and almost empty. Its floor was tiled in black and white marble and its geometrically patterned ceiling stretched ten feet over their heads. At the far end was a broad staircase in polished wood. She turned to help as Marc and the footman settled Yohan onto a wooden bench inside the doorway.
"Who are you people? Where have you been, Yohan?" The senior Felger demanded. He was as austere as his entry hall, dressed in black, his face gaunt beneath a powdered white periwig. A trimmed pointed beard gave him a slightly sinister cast.
Yohan looked up but seemed unable to speak. Gisel answered for him. "I presume you are Yakob Felger, the master here. I'm Lieutenant Gisel Matah of Iskander Security - Lieutenant Chronon and I undertook to bring your son home through the city tonight."
"Monstrous!" Yakob Felger stood in the middle of the hall, shaking with fury. "You have nearly killed him. Hertang!" he shouted to the older retainer. "go out at once to fetch the churgeon."
The man glanced uncertainly toward the door. Loud shouts and crashes sounded outside.
"No need," Gisel said. "I can treat him."
Thrusting the assault rifle at Marc, Gisel pulled out her first aid pack. She bent over Yohan, noting his white face and gauging the amount of blood on his sleeve. She pulled her knife from its sheath and cut off the sleeve of his shirt, then opened the emergency kit.
Yakob Felger sent Hertang from the hall on an errand and turned to glare down at her. "How do I know you are competent? Have you not done enough harm?"
"I didn't shoot at your son - ask Commandante Zagdorf about that. As for what I'm doing - I'll do a better job than any of Lingdon's churgeons with their potions and leeches. Now let me have some room to work."
Yakob Felger glared for a moment and then stepped away.
Yohan's wound did not seem to have gone deep, but it bled copiously. She sprayed Quik-clot into it. "How do you feel, Meister?"
"A bit sick, but it doesn't hurt."
"You're feeling shock. I don't think the ball hit the bone - it will heal quickly. Can you hold this gauze over the wound?"
"I think so."
While she grabbed some antiseptic to clean the wound and prepared a dressing she heard Marc arguing with Yakob. "We undertook to protect your son from criminals in the night - we didn't expect them to be wearing the Emperor's insignia."
"You ruffians are entirely responsible for what has occurred. How dare you accuse the Emperor?"
"We dare a lot," Gisel snapped. "I'd think you'd be concerned your legitimate rights to do business here have been violated."
"I will make up my own mind how I should concern myself."
"It is as these friends say, Father. I went out to investigate their business request, and the Empire's soldiers attacked us twice."
"Friends? I did not give you permission to attend any secret meetings! I will speak to you later."
Gisel finished sealing Yohan's wound with a plastic spray and picked up the metal case of syringes. "I admit we acted behind your back - but only because Commandante Zagdorf killed our friend Bertzin."
Yakob Felger raised his chin, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Do you have proof of such culpability?"
Gisel shrugged. "Nothing that would hold up in a court of law. Surely what's happened here tonight is evidence enough. Do the Felgers have freedom to do business - or does the Emperor keep you on a leash?"
Yakob Felger turned to her, breathing heavily. "The Felgers have freedom to pursue their legitimate business in the Kingdom of Lingdon. I understood the Iskander proposal to go further. Did not Bertzin report that I preferred dealing with the Emperor I revere and respect, over some chance enterprise of disreputable upstarts? You had your answer, why do you persist?"
Gisel took out a syringe to prepare. "I was ordered to persist. If you want to speak with my superiors, I can arrange that -"
"What are you doing with that thing?"
"Giving Yohan a tetanus shot. A medicine against lockjaw - I assure you he'll heal well with Iskander's treatment. I couldn't say the same about that of your barbarian friends."
Yakob drew himself up. His white beard shook with outrage. "You are impertinent, young woman."
She injected the serum before raising her head to look him in the eye. "You'll find I can be more than impertinent, Sir. We have as much right as the Emperor to conduct our business. I assure you - we can back ourselves with more force, and offer the better deals."
"Preposterous!"
Hertang came down the staircase. "Some Militia and the city's watchmen are in the square, Sir. I believe they have the fire in the stalls almost quenched."
Gisel straightened up from tying a sling to support Yohan's arm. Why had the man made a circuit of the mansion? No time to puzzle the reason now. "Any of the soldiers in sight?"
"I saw none, Mistress."
"We'll be ready to leave, then." She turned to Yakob Felger. "I apologize for the disturbance, but I think you'll agree, we've done well to protect your son as much as we have. More than a dozen musketeers were waiting for us. And think carefully before closing off this opportunity - it could mean the difference between future prosperity and insolvency."
"Our business will prosper without the consort of outlaws."
"On the contrary, Meister. Ask the King's ministers - we act in Lingdon within the law. We may have as many friends here as the Felgers."
"Are you threatening me?"
Gisel looked up at him from replacing her medical kit. "No, Meister. My job is to remove obstacles to Iskander's affairs."
Yakob glanced toward the door. "Then I would suggest you conduct yourself more lawfully - and if you profess to be a lady, you should dress and act like one."
Gisel bit off a sharp retort. She took a deep breath and smiled. "Iskander will protest to King Heri about this trouble - I intend to speak to his militia when I get outside. Iskander will pay its share for any damages in the market. After all, I started the fires."
She looked down at Yohan once more as she packed her medical kit. "How do you feel?"
"I still feel no pain."
"You will, when the shock wears off. Take a couple of these pills when it feels bad." She handed him a small packet and then tossed her head defiantly toward Yakob. "Try to make your father see sense. I'll be in touch."
The door slammed shut on the two Iskander officers. As the footman barred and chained it, Yakob glared at Yohan. "What is the meaning of this escapade? Where did you find these desperados? You have done the Felgers great harm - perhaps irreparable harm."
Yohan looked helplessly at his father as Hertang and the footman helped him to his feet. "What harm, Father?"
As if in answer, a heavy footfall sounded on the staircase and a man in half armor descended to the hall. Despite the weariness that had swept over him when Gisel left, Yohan felt an immediate surge of dislike for the bull-necked soldier and the contemptuous expression in his eyes.
Yakob Felger introduced the stranger with a slight bow. "This is Commandante Zagdorf - you notice the respect he shows us by not confronting those two in here. But I am sure he heard all of your so-called friends' lies."
"Zagdorf! The man who ordered me shot?"
Zagdorf pointed his finger. "I gave no such order - your own foolishness brought that about. My soldiers are here to protect the integrity of the Felger business."
"How thoughtful, Sir. How has my Father managed without your guardianship these ten years past -?"
"Silence, Yohan. I'll not have you copy the impertinence of your wild young friends. The Commandante came to inform me you had been abducted. He offered his services to rescue you."
"A lie! I was not abducted, I went willingly. The note I received while you were away seemed too important to disregard."
"Important! You have a great regard for your ability to take up concerns of importance. You shall never leave this house again except upon my express instruction."
Zagdorf shook his head, a smile more cunning than indulgent on his lips. "Ah, you chastise him too much, Yakob. His is the folly of youth - the little witch has enchanted him."
"Then he had better be un-enchanted - at once!"
Yohan sighed, his arm was beginning to throb. "I have no illusions of attraction for the young woman - she has suitors enough by all account."
Yakob's chin lifted. "A hussy, too? You disgust me."
Yohan felt too weary and unwell to listen to the two men's admonitions. "Please let me go to my room. I would rather discuss this in the morning, Father."
"Oh, would you? I want my friend to hear your explanations. Should an unfavorable account of your conduct reach the Emperor, it will reflect badly upon the whole family -"
"Oh Flame! I doubt the Emperor could feel concern for any act of mine."
Zagdorf took a step closer and Yohan slipped Mich'l's leather pouch further behind his back. Had he seen it?
"Make no mistake, lad, our Emperor watches every matter that affects his realm. You have strayed into very dangerous activities here. The ramifications are greater than you suppose."
"Then I am sorry for any trouble I have caused the Emperor's soldiers. It was not my intention." Yohan let his legs go weak, not too difficult, he felt sick and shaky. Hertang and the footman tightened their grip to keep him from falling. He flung a beseeching look toward his father. "Really...I promise to answer everything to your satisfaction...and to the Emperor's...but please let me do so in the morning."
"Oh, very well. Take him upstairs."
The following morning, Zagdorf followed the Guard Commander into an alley between two warehouses in the Lingdon docks. They stopped where they had a clear view of the ships moored in the center of the river. "That one, Commandante." The Guard Commander pointed. "The three master flying a Thalian flag at its stern."
Zagdorf studied the vessel briefly, it didn't strike him as an Iskander vessel. By the few mariners working listlessly in the rigging it was likely a chartered merchantman. He noticed a few swivel guns mounted on the quarterdeck rails, but that was not unusual. "Why do you suppose that to be connected with the Iskanders?"
"Because it arrived unobserved. When our port watchers checked the river this morning it was already moored and unloading cargo."
Zagdorf shrugged. "So, its crew get up earlier than our watchers do. Dismiss them and hire new."
"But, Commandante. It must have been moored close to the city to have made the journey since first light. Surely our men would have seen it when they were trying to right the lugger?"
Zagdorf looked again at the vessel. "And they didn't?"
"No, Sir. They swear it never passed before nightfall."
He had assumed young Felger and his escort had ridden on horseback to return to the city at midnight, but could they have come upriver in the dark on the rising tide? Surely not in a ship as large as this. They may have done so in the same cutter his men had seen them depart aboard. "I will not dismiss your suspicions out of hand. If you wish, you may keep a close watch upon the vessel. What is its name?"
"The Stellar, Commandante. The Port Captain reports its papers name its home port as the capital of Thalia."
Zagdorf nodded. "Close to the Iskander ports on the other side of the Inland Sea. But such scanty suspicion is not enough for us to risk sending men aboard. If it were in an Empire port I would have it seized, but we cannot do that here. See if you can find out what cargo it unloaded. But before you do that, we must find a place where we will not be overheard. I may as well tell you more about the Iskanders - enough that you are more wary of them."
They found seating space on the beams of a broken wooden jetty rising up from the river mud beneath the dockside. They were a hundred feet from the nearest vessel, where very few stevedores passed them.
"I may have picked you to join me recently, but the Iskanders have been my concern for four years," Zagdorf began. "I am also commander of the Imperial spies who watch them in Tarnland. You learned something of the power of their weapons from our men's accounts yesterday. The firearms and cannon they have produced in their Tarnland factories cannot be equalled."
"The Empire cannot . . .?"
"The Emperor has given leave for artisans to work on improving our armies' weapons, but it will take time. You well know that we have formerly stamped out any attempts to change."
"Indeed, Commandante. I have been sent out with my troops to smash illicit workshops."
"Which is what we intend to do with the Iskanders. Unfortunately, it is a much bigger job."
"We need an army."
Zagdorf nodded. An army was on the way, but he could not impart any details to a mere company officer. "That is being taken care of, but there is a problem with the action being so far from the Empire's heartland and so close to the Skathian borders."
"The Skathians would interfere?"
"They might. Whatever we do, the Empire must keep the Skathian Empire and the Iskanders apart." Zagdorf lapsed into silence. The power of the Skathians, who ruled a land stretching to the far mountains of the Kush, was not to be aroused. Duke Solerar commanded an army sent to join the war against Iskander and its Tarnland ally. The Duke's brother had been sent in embassy to the Skathians to assure them the movement did not constitute a threat to them. He did not believe any of that would affect his plans to capture Iskanders here, so he felt no need to tell his second in command anything more.
"What do we know of Iskander plans, Sir?"
Zagdorf snorted. "They seem to delight in flouting our policies. They not only produce manufactures which we would never permit, they teach men to master and understand them. Left unchecked, they could imperil the stability of the Empire."
"But they only teach the Tarnlanders."
"No, I learned enough last night to tell me they seek to do the same even here. And the ships they are building in the Earl of Waldern's yards on the south coast are rumored to be very advanced."
"Are you certain they hired Lingdish mariners to crew them?"
"I am. When the Lingdoners' war against Frenkia ended, the Iskanders hired over a thousand experienced seamen from the disbanding fleets. I wish we could seize those ships before they go to sea, but again - Lingdon is a neutral nation and we cannot act as we would wish. A curse on all these neutrals! One day we must rule them all."
"I am sure the Empire has the power to do that, Commandante. Perhaps the trouble with these upstarts is the spur we need to take a stronger hold on the whole world."
Zagdorf stared. The young officer was a fool; such words could get him executed, or imprisoned for life. "You think the Emperor needs such spur, do you? He would do well to heed your advice?"
The man blanched. "Oh no, Sir! I didn't mean . . ."
Zagdof hid a smile. The sentiments were no more than were his own, but he was not about to jeopardize a lifetime of fighting his way up the ranks by uttering them. His action in quelling the tax uprising at Brukes and his promotion for gallantry at the Battle of Mallovik had started his rise into the higher ranks - one more success and he could hope for the command of an army, and a noble title to go with it.
"You had better explain to me exactly what you did mean. You surely understand I am bound to report such words. But having started this operation to capture Iskanders, I will give you some time to consider them more carefully. Tell me what you have done to discover the whereabouts of those two wild young Iskanders."
Yohan entered his father's library when he rose at mid-morning, the smell of leather and burning coal mingling in his nostrils. A fire burned in the grate and the glow of flickering flames reflected off the leather spines ranked across the bookshelves. Most of the books were financial records, and treatises on politics or commerce. Yakob Felger stood looking out of the window, his back to the room. "Sit in the chair beside the study table."
"I have some things you should see - "
"Sit down. I will look at what I wish - when I wish to."
Yohan seated himself and opened Director Mich'l's pouch onto the papers scattered about the table. Awkwardly, with one arm, he set the gold and silver samples in front and placed the pistol in its holster at the center. It looked as alien as the two young officers who had brought him home. What should his attitude to the girl, Gisel, be? She was interesting but he couldn't bear her constant instruction. Perhaps this unknown cavalry commander had ended their relationship for the same reason - Tarnlanders were known to be fiercely proud.
"The stall keepers in the square are angry," Yakob announced, still looking out of the window. "They are arguing with the Mayor's officers and pointing their fingers over here. I don't see your little witch offering them recompense."
"After what happened last night, it's hardly safe for her in the city. Marc said Zagdorf intends to take them captive."
"The Empire keeps the law, it does not flout it. This fellow lies."
"I do not think so, the Empire fears them. Look at these samples I was given, and you will see why."
Yakob Felger turned and walked slowly into the center of the room, his pinched face proclaiming his displeasure. "What is this?"
Yohan slipped the revolver from its holster and opened the loading gate behind the cylinder. After shaking each round in turn from the cylinder he handed the weapon butt first to his father. "Six shots at a loading - see, Father."
"This is their cavalry pistol we've heard rumors of?"
"In essence - Gisel says this is the short barreled version."
The elder Felger looked it over carefully and Yohan saw the quickening of interest in his eyes. He took the six rounds from his son's hand and examined them.
"The ball is at the front, and the percussion cap that fires it is the round mark at the rear. Look at this time instrument. It has a clock face but never needs winding - Lt. Matah says she will give me a new...whatever it was she called it...in a year to keep it running. It maintains correct time measured from noon at this location."
"We have clocks."
"Not as small, nor as accurate."
They picked up and discussed the rest of the items before Yohan handed over the memorandum of the previous day's discussions and the invitation to Bergrund. Yakob took out his pince-nez to read the writing.
"Ten million ducats? Was it real?"
"They showed me. Every billet I checked was solid. They sent you these samples for our own assay."
"They want us to mint some part of it into coin?"
"That is what they said. Perhaps a million."
"They are willing to pay the Felger's price?"
"I believe they will want to bargain."
"Why not mint it themselves? These artifacts prove them capable."
"Lt. Matah said it would divert effort from their main work."
"And what is that?"
"Equipping armies and a navy to defeat Lubitz and the Whones. I hate to think what it means for our branch in Lubitz - your friend Gerd Misiker."
"And his daughter, your betrothed. She must be almost a woman now."
Yohan's thoughts scattered like a flock of pigeons under the hunter's gun. Oh, Flame - he'd almost forgotten. They had been so young when the marriage was arranged. Did he want to forget her? Was it a marriage - or another way for the family to rule him? What kind of girl was she? His thoughts slowly returned to his father's study as Yakob finished reading the letters.
Yakob picked up the revolver again to sight along the barrel. "If you hadn't come in with those people while the Commandante was here, my decision would be much easier."
"I did not know he was."
"You were too enthusiastic - a critical report will reach the Emperor."
"Why was Zagdorf hiding upstairs?"
Yakob set the revolver down firmly. "At my request. Do you suppose I wanted them fighting in here?"
"I understand - but I suspect Zagdorf didn't want to tackle them on his own. It is your doing that he heard so much. Is that what you intended?"
"No! You know my love for the Emperor is greater than for any other ruler, but I am a Felger first. Iskander threatens the peace the Empire has maintained for two centuries, so we must keep informed. I wish they had never contacted you, but I have my duty to our business enterprise and its clients. The Baron must be told - the branch heads must know what you have done. The final decision is beyond my authority - the Felgers will decide together - in the next family council."
"Then you agree my meeting the Iskanders had merit."
"Perhaps your foolish behavior is a small crime for the Emperor to condemn. We have the option to ascribe it to inexperience."
"I believe you despise Iskander less than you pretend."
Yakob twisted his lips sourly. "Consideration of their usefulness would have been necessary eventually. I shall make the best of this situation."
"They may become our most important client."
"I shall set my face against Iskander as firmly as I did last night - in public." He paused to stare hard into Yohan's face. "But you must take these artifacts to the Baron."
Yohan's mouth dropped. "Me?"
"Who else? This is your doing."
"Where is the Baron? Lt. Matah says that Lubitz is blockaded by their warships."
"I have heard the same rumor from mariners. Likely it is true. We do not know if he reached the city - we should have received a letter from Gerd Misiker more than a month ago. Obviously the blockade has prevented its transmittal. I think you should go there first to learn the Baron's whereabouts. It will be a fine opportunity to make the acquaintance of your future bride. I will write a letter suggesting Gerd begin the final arrangements and settle the bridal gift."
Yohan stared.
"Don't look so surprised. You are too much a man - Flame only knows what hussies you may find mischief with. Keep away from that little Iskander witch - she will come to a bad end."
"She said she would contact me again."
"I will see she does not. You have preparations to make - do you remember the bodyguard I have used before?"
"That big soldier, Galen Brough?"
"Yes. Hire him for this duty - if the sea route is closed you will have to go overland."
"Over the Moonwald? It's a hive of bandits."
"That is why you want Brough."
One bodyguard? He'd prefer a dozen. "What about my arm? I will need full use of it."
"The little witch said her potions would heal you quickly. Your color is fine this morning. You will be fit for such a ride by the end of the week."
Yohan strove to slow the racing of his pulse - another adventure. After yesterday's he wondered if he was ready. Whole merchant convoys had been captured in those wilds. If the outlaws took him, they'd demand a ransom. If the money came too slowly, they'd lose patience and kill him. He'd heard they liked to torture captives to death...but father must not see his fear. He forced a smile to his face and reached for the pistol. "Yes, Father. But I need to practice with this revolver first."
Gisel and Marc rode horses ahead of their cavalry escort and small convoy of two-wheeled carts. They'd brought the bullion shipment out of the Earl of Waldern's mansion at dawn, and taken the south road over the only bridge across the Thames. They'd spent a hectic three days and nights, setting up the Felger contact and then guarding Stellar against Zagdorf's possible reprisal. The latter hadn't happened - the ship had left while his men were still poking around.
Soon after they crested the hills south of Lingdon, the city was lost to sight. Their modern equipment and protective vests had gone back into storage - too valuable to wear out before Henrik Matah could make replacements. They wore woolen battledress which looked more in keeping with the local garb and had rapiers slung from their shoulders. Gisel had her braids hidden beneath a plumed hat, and their pistols concealed so no stranger would observe the lack of a flintlock mechanism.
Gisel didn't like traveling the countryside like an invading army, but security was necessary. If people knew the four carts carried two tons of silver bullion and coin Stellar had unloaded two nights before, the troopers' rifles would be needed. Even an unarmed mob was nothing to disregard. People with nothing - or who had as little as the riff raff in the streets of Lingdon - would take any gamble. The money's destination was the Earl's castle, halfway
between the city and the seaport in his ancestral lands - final installment for the ships his yards had completed over winter. Payment for victuals, powder and shot, and pay for their crews as well. Two of the ships were ready for sea.
"You think the kid will back out?" Marc said.
"Felger?" Gisel patted her chestnut mare on the neck before replying. "He's out of his depth, but I think he might have the spunk to follow up our offers."
Marc shrugged. "It seems as if this Baron is the only man who counts. You should ask President Scopes to locate him."
Dirk Scopes had taken the post of Iskander's CEO. He was always referred to as the President - an attempt to make everyone believe that Iskander was really a nation. Gisel smiled - perhaps to make them believe it themselves. It was the only way to keep them working together to turn their knowledge and abilities into a passport to security.
"If the Felgers don't know where he is, how can I tell Scopes where to look? Besides, he'll probably send me to do the dirty work. I'm better off in Lingdon."
"You'd be better off to do what I've been telling you. Pull some strings and get posted to your father's works at Bergrund. That Zagdorf is looking for you here."
She turned her head away. Lingdon lay outside the Emperor's direct rule, and his brutal secret police couldn't just take her by force in the night. But it was obvious Zagdorf would move against her if the civil authorities weakened control. If she acknowledged the danger, she'd be seeing threats behind every bush. "You're imagining things, Marc."
"I sure-as-hell am not! Word has gone around the streets already - look out for the dark-haired witch. They mean you."
Gisel laughed uncertainly. "You think I'm that important?" In her charcoal grey Iskander uniform, a rapier at her side, she knew people would hardly believe her a woman. People expected an armed man to be just that - a man. As they'd left the city with the convoy she'd heard people comment about the wagons and their mercenary guards, but not one had noticed her. The armed troopers and the well cared-for horses had held the townspeople's eyes. Likely, speculation about the loads hidden under the tarpaulins had filled every mind.
Marc shook his head at Gisel. "You're a stubborn little devil. If word that you're the Bergrund Director's daughter has got about, Zagdorf will know you're worth as much as this convoy. I want to see you safe - listen to me."
Gisel dismissed him with a wave of her hand and looked down the hill at the road ahead. Through gaps in the trees she saw a stream and a small village. "I'd better ride on to do Iskander's PR bit with the villagers."
"Take a couple of these troopers."
"Marc. I don't need them. Christ - you think Zagdorf is hiding in the trees?"
Marc didn't answer, he turned in the saddle to detail two of the men to go with her. The escort was of heavy cavalry; troopers armed with sabers and cavalry pistols, protected against sword slashes by full cuirass and helmets with wide brims and neck guards. They rode the largest horses Iskander could buy; the name Clydesdale came to mind but she knew the breed and location didn't exist here. Even the horses had a few armor plates on their foreheads, necks and chests.
Gisel was tempted to put heels to her nimble mare's flanks and leave the troopers in her dust but stifled the impulse. She scowled at Marc as she spurred away and settled into a trot the big chargers could easily manage.
As they descended the hill she twisted in the saddle to look for gift items in one of her saddlebags. She found a package of assorted knives - belt knives, skinning knives and other sharp blades in Iskander's best steel. They bore Iskander's crest, a globe girdled by a gear wheel, so the recipients would know who to thank. She dug deeper to find more Iskander products, some she'd bought with her local allowance - kitchen tools, needles, scissors and strong thread for the womenfolk.
The village consisted of single story wattle and daub cottages strung out along a single street. In the yards behind them she could see the woolen cloth the villagers produced hung out to dry. A working party labored over some pothole filling as she reached the outskirts. Every community and property owner along Lingdon's roads was responsible for maintaining the King's highway: some did a better job than others. Where the surface was dressed with chipped stone, as here, it bore up their wagons well - in other places along the road they'd come to patches roughly laid with sods and brushwood. Gisel's father insisted they bear this lack of Earth-like infrastructure in mind when they planned developments.
One feature they missed were Roman roads - it seemed there had never been a Roman Empire on this world. The Carthaginians had won the Punic Wars, and the Phoenician city states had become the dominant power, with philosophy and religions from the remains of Alexander's Greek empire. Then, two hundred years ago, some foreigners called Trigons had conquered the Empire - the Iskanders were still learning about them.
At the center of the village the high-road crossed a muddy unmade track. Gisel drew rein and swept off her hat as the village reeve hurried out of a corner cottage. He hastily fastened a dark blue cape of office about his shoulders. "What orders, Sirrar?" he asked, his eyes flicking from the armed troopers behind her.
Gisel smiled as he gaped up at her long braids. "Lieutenant Gisel Matah of Iskander's Forces, at your service Elder. I must commend you for a fine highway hereabouts, Sir."
"Why, thank 'ee, Sir...er, Mistress."
"I have a convoy behind me, and as is Iskander's custom - gifts for your village for its care and information." She leaned down to hand him the packets. "Some few loaves and a goatskin of ale would be welcome. And have you news of outlaws or freebooter bands in the area?"
His widening eyes thanked her as he looked up from the gifts in his hands. He turned to signal to a lad. "Much obliged, Mistress. We has had no word of marauding bands this twelvemonth. His Majesty, Holy Flame protect his Soul, sends a troop of his retainers along this road ever' month or so's. You can be assured of your safety 'til ye reaches the Forest o' Abinger."
Gisel touched her forehead and smiled - his eyes said he doubted such troopers as hers would be bothered by anyone. His words confirmed her own suspicion - the wooded areas were the only places they need be on their guard. But it wouldn't do any harm to have the populace along the road see the strength of their men, and pass on the news - if they could frighten outlaws off they'd not need to kill any.
"If you have any sturdy young men in the village who fancy coming with us to make their fortunes on the battlefield, we have room on the carts."
"Nay, Mistress. Needeth all the help us has to keep up with our quota for the woolen factors, and tend our crops and animals betimes. A cripple or two, us might spare."
"I thought you'd answer so - but I'm instructed to ask. Should you have a troublemaker in the area, you could send him to us in the city. Our consulate is run by a Colonel M'Tov - you can ask for him anywhere."
"Ah, well, us might needs expel some villain on occasion. But would thee want one?"
Gisel inclined her head toward her troopers, sitting grim-faced and silent in their saddles. "These men have ways of training such. We can even make mad dogs into guardsmen."
"Like as not, I dare say. Seem so you Iskanders is a powerful lot. Us has heard much . . ."
Gisel glanced away to see Marc and the convoy coming down the village street. She waited long enough for them to reach her before sending her troopers back into the ranks with the bread and ale, and taking her place beside Marc. She saluted the reeve as they made to ride on, and he doffed his hat and bowed them all past. What a life here, that even good men should have cause to feel meek under the eyes of armed soldiers.
"See, Marc. Nobody tried to kidnap me," she said as they left the village.
"You shouldn't have told young Felger who you were."
"Nonsense, Marc. Why?"
"Ransom, for one. Your knowledge of your father's ideas for another -"
"They have to catch me, first."
"I'm telling Scopes to switch us with another team. Move you, at least. Christ knows - I want to be near you, but your safety -"
"Leave it! I can take care of myself." Having Marc near her was the last thing she wanted. Damned if she'd let herself drift back into that old relationship. But how the hell could she give him the cold shoulder? While the warships fitted out, and their marines guaranteed the security of the shipyards, Marc was assigned to work with her. The last damned frigate wouldn't leave for months.
"You're as pig-headed as your father. His idea of bringing these people along slowly to make them our equal is never going to work. Time to build some real weapons that will keep the Empire off our backs for good!"
"What?"
"Armored cruisers to sweep the seas, some tanks, and a bloody air force."
"Who mans them, Marc? You and I? We've recruited a thousand seamen to crew the sailing ships - there's not one who could do duty on a steam warship. Air force! We've only four people out of Iskander's crew who can fly the Intruder to shuttle supplies. Look at these guys behind us on the wagons - they've taken a year to learn the tasks and tactics that a rifle armed army needs. These are among the best recruits we've got - but would you feel safe around a tank these guys were running?"
She caught Marc's scowl. He was trying to dismiss her words. "We have men trained for steamships."
"Yeah, about fifty. For two merchant ships converted to steam tugs, and that armored battery - when it's ready for action. You know damned well none of them have been to sea except when it's as calm as a mill pond."
"I still think Scopes is right."
"If Dirk Scopes believed in the methods he spouts he'd have done more to push them. We know from history that hi-tech armies only multiply the hatred against them. Mich'l and my father have the only workable plan - help the Gaians further their own advancement and ambitions. That's why Scopes is letting them go ahead."
"He's started the helicopter program. That was against your father's plan."
"I think everyone agrees helicopters would be an asset. We could fly this damned silver to Waldern instead of taking three days by wagon. But the engineers shifted to that project have left a big hole in father's staff - and they're still trying to get around our lack of materials for high pressure seals, for lubricants - composites for the blades - Jeeze, everything. They've not finalized the powerplants yet, or a viable fuel source for them."
"Turbines - we can fuel them with almost anything."
Gisel started to laugh. "We only have the means to use steam right now, Marc. Coal fired helicopters?"
"Don't laugh at me, Gisel. Laugh at the Felger kid, if you must - but not me. We need air power to make up for our small numbers."
She straightened up. "Sorry, but you're not being realistic."
Poor Marc, don't make things worse for him. He'd swallowed the technology bug during his spacecraft training. Doesn't he understand that unleashing a fleet of bombers here would be evil? "Air power! How many innocent civilians is Iskander prepared to kill?"
"Oh bullshit, Gisel! Does the Emperor care about our civilians?"
"So you think it's okay to be as brutal as him? I'm not putting my ass on the line for that."
Marc shook his fists in the air. "God dammit! Don't you see? We wouldn't be so vulnerable if we had the edge I'm suggesting."
She shook her head at his angry face. He's so simplistic. Only super-technology is worth a damn - to hell with whoever gets in the way. But in reality, many designs have proved to be failures. A war that doesn't change the enemies' hearts is no more than a rehearsal for a worse one. A super-accurate weapon only targeted to kill women and children is working for the enemies' cause. Did you have to be an engineer's brat to understand that? "I could accept air transport helicopters. If we had the metals to produce high temperature steel we could manage turbines. If the Felgers prove to have access to the chromium and nickel we need...well, we might have choppers in the air inside five years. Still leaves the fuel problem - we can't phone an order to Exxon."
Marc's face reddened. "You love this primitive shit! You're deadly with a rapier - but what about me? Any half-assed swordsman I meet could skewer me in seconds."
". . . those lessons I - "
"Oh, you loved being my instructor! Was it really for my benefit or was it a chance to prove yourself superior?"
She clamped down on a stab of guilt. "No, Marc! I worked my butt off for you."
"And a damned lot of good you did me. I'm just not cut out for it."
"So, shoot the bastards. The rapier's camouflage, you don't have to draw it."
"But it isn't the Gaian way. Gaian way - shit!"
"We have to fit in, Marc. We can't deliberately make enemies."
"Yeah, fit in, be a part of the scenery. Look at these goddamned wagons - British army pattern about 1900. Jesus!"
"They work, Marc. Iskander is damned lucky my father's an engineer with a specialty in engineering history. Victorian engineering is as far as we can stretch the infrastructure here."
"Steam trains!"
"Be nice to have a railroad to ride, wouldn't it? An electrified mag-lev line is a pipe-dream for our lifetimes."
Marc smiled broadly - as if he'd finally scored a hit. "Yeah, especially your lifetime. Do as I say - get your old man to transfer you to steelworks security. Too many people here have heard of the Wildcat."
When word came that the sailing packet, "Maid of Wallicher", would leave upon the next tide, Yohan said his farewells to his mother and sister. With their advice on how he should deport himself with his betrothed ringing warm in his ears, he was pleased to leave the mansion in the company of his father and Hertang. After a week of preparations it was good to be away.
They decided to walk to the docks, having sent the bodyguard Galen on ahead with the baggage. It gave his father ample time to impart advice and many admonitions about escapades he should avoid. Yohan was heartily pleased when the smell of cargos, docks, and river assailed his nostrils and they paused before the dockyard gates.
"I'll not come any further with you," Yakob announced. "I could be recognized and it's best you're not known as a Felger while on the journey."
"Yes, Father. That's all right." Yohan steeled himself not to feel dismayed that his name was not a passport crossing the Moonwald.
It was easy to think of adventure while seated at a warm fireside, but he might soon spend his nights in a rainswept hedgerow on the road to Lubitz. Perhaps he should have contacted Gisel for another box of shells for the pistol - he'd fired half of them in practice. He found the hilt of his rapier with his hand to steady his nerves - he knew the unknown was always more daunting than the reality. Once the journey started, he felt sure he'd be too busy for misgivings.
"You know where to find the Yerley Livery Stable in Brehafen?" his father asked as they stood aside to let a laden wagon pass.
"Yes, Father. Beyond the Guildhall from Dock Street."
"Hire a handcart to convey your baggage from the docks."
"Yes, I will. Please don't fuss, Father. I'm perfectly capable of this journey."
Yohan turned to look through the dock gates at the lofty warehouses he'd passed before in the dark with Gisel and Marc. The Stellar, he knew, had long since departed - staying only two tides in the port. Yakob took him by the arm. "I know I sometimes seem...harsh," he said. "A man with as many responsibilities as I...."
Yohan turned at the touch, but stared as his father's speech dried up. Yakob's mouth worked as if silently releasing words and feelings that he never knew were there. Hertang stepped away as if his position as trusted retainer could be compromised by seeing his master's betrayal of emotion. The Felgers were known for their stern devotion to duty, but Yakob awkwardly reached for Yohan's right hand and grasped it. His face regained a measure of immobility. "I'll be away - best you enter your part here. Take very good care...and good luck."
"Thank you, Father." He shook his hand warmly. "I'll send word as soon as I'm able."
"Give my regards to the Misikers."
"Yes. I have your letter for Meister Gerd."
"If there is a merchants' party preparing to leave -"
"Don't worry about Galen and me," Yohan said. "Two armed men together will discomfit any footpad - especially when they see the size of Galen."
"May the Holy Flame be with you," Yakob Felger said, turning to walk quickly away. Yohan stood watching a moment as his father caught up to Hertang and the two disappeared into the bustle of the crowd. Yohan set his hat firmly against the breeze off the water and entered the dock gates. He passed the bustle around the tall warehouses, smelled the spices, the greasy bales of fleece, and the tarred rigging as he started down the quay, looking for the Maid of Wallicher. The wharfs were as crowded with ships as on the night Stellar had arrived, and with the urgency of the tide's turning, everywhere bustled with activity as several ships made ready to leave.
The Maid of Wallicher turned out to be a pinnace of a hundred tuns, well found and with nearly new sails. A group of stevedores made their way down the gangplank as Yohan approached the master's mate at its foot.
"I have a passage booked on the Maid. I believe my companion has already boarded with our baggage."
"Like as not," the mate replied. "Wot's his name?"
"Galen Brough - a tall and strapping fellow."
The petty officer gave Yohan a cautious look. "There's a Galen Brough aboard."
"Good."
"Come with others to carry the load."
"Oh, I expect he hired a porter." Yohan dismissed the other's information and set foot on the gangplank. "When do we sail?"
"As soon as the hawsers is loosed, sir. You'm the last to arrive."
Yohan made his way to the deck and then followed one of the ship's boys - assigned by the mate - to find his berth below. "How many passengers aboard, lad?"
"More'n a score, your honor," the lad replied, his eyes curious on Yohan's riding garb and weapons.
"Are we all berthed in the saloon?" Yohan asked as they arrived below decks. The air smelled of unwashed bodies and stale bilge water. He had to stoop to pass beneath the deck beams above.
"Nay, sir. The Maid do have cabins for each party. Only your meals you shall take in the saloon"
"Good," Yohan replied. He'd not thought about the arrangements his father's agent had made, and was pleased he and Galen would have some privacy to discuss their journey plans.
"This be it, your honor," the lad said at length, stopping before one of several small doors in the gloomy passage. "I'll give a knock for you."
Yohan laughed and handed him a shillun before lifting the latch. "Galen's my servant - I need not ask his permission."
He stood for a moment at the open doorway to let his eyes accustom to the dim light. The tiny cabin held a small chair and table near his left hand, and a pair of bunks opposite against the ship's side. Heavy beams on the level of his chin framed the planks of the deck above and he had to stoop to enter. A figure sat on the bottom bunk and even in the gloom he could tell immediately it wasn't Galen. This person was of no more than average stature.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his hand going for his pistol. "Where's Galen Brough?"
"Don't draw on me, Meister. Close the door behind you."
Yohan hesitated. The voice was not familiar but the manner of address was.
"I'm the Galen Brough you'll be traveling with. That other fellow's not up to the journey facing you."
The cabin lit up with a soft white light and Yohan recognized the dark eyes of the figure opposite even though the attire and small goatee beard startled him. "How do I look?" Gisel said with a laugh. "You think I pass for a man?"
"Your voice...it sounds different."
"Yes, I'll tell you later."
"What foolishness is this? I cannot make the journey with you."
Gisel tossed her head angrily. "You'll damn-sure never make it without. If you'd checked with me I could have told you that an army has landed on the Lubitz coast. The country you intend to travel through is the battleground of three armies."
Yohan gasped. "Three armies - whose?"
"Ours is attacking Lubitz and the Whones. We're splitting their alliance."
Yohan tried to grasp the implications. "And why should your presence make any difference?"
"Because I'll be in communication with the fastest moving army. If the Tarnlanders caught you and Galen, you'd be strung up on the nearest tree."
"What about the other armies?"
"You Felgers have a pass with Whonmark and Lubitz."
"This is madness." Yohan slapped a fist into his open palm. "Traveling with Galen seemed dangerous...but to attempt the Moonwald with a mere girl...I'm leaving the ship. Father can make other arrangements."
She jumped from the bunk and stood against the cabin door. "You will not. My commanders want me to test the mood in the countryside - and accompanying you is my best bet to get there. If I were to run into your bully-boy friends...well, the second thing they'd do is string me up."
"Second?"
She gave him a straight look. "I am a woman, Meister."
He colored and looked away. "All the more reason we shouldn't travel together. My father will be appalled!"
Gisel laughed. "I've shared a cabin with men before, Meister. I'm quite sure I can trust you."
Yohan didn't know whether to be pleased or offended at her easy assumption.
"How is your arm? Does the wound give any trouble?"
"None at all. Iskander's...and your treatment, have done very well." He looked about at the close quarters of the tiny cabin. A loud drumming of feet on the deck planks above his head announced the crew had started coiling the mooring hawsers. "How did you know I would be aboard this ship?"
"Ah, yes. Hand me your pistol - gently and butt-first."
"You are outrageous," he said, but he complied.
Her lips twisted into a grin as she took the pistol and returned to the bunk. "Not as bad as that. I think we'll get on very well - once you get used to the idea. I've traveled into dangerous places before - you might say I'm an old hand. I've spied in Tarnland and the Kosmoneos."
Yohan watched as she took a small tool and opened the butt of the pistol. "What are you doing?"
"Switching off the bug - I draw the line at bugging myself."
"Bug?"
"The listening device that relayed your conversations to Marc's receiver. You did ask how I knew to find you here."
Yohan stared - what chicanery was this? Common sense told him such a thing could not be real, but he knew enough not to doubt her. A surge of anger washed over him - she was impossible. He must suspect her every act - and to think she expected him to rely on her for the journey. He wondered if he should give her the slip in Brehafen - he'd fix her tricks.
She handed the pistol back to him with a smile. "There you are, Meister, it's switched off."
He took the pistol and looked at it carefully.
"It still works," she said, regarding him seriously. "You're thinking you have an advantage over me, now it's in your hand. What's to stop you from disarming me and tying me up? You can leave me here and get back ashore - though you'll have to swim. I can feel from the motion that we're in mid-stream." She paused while Yohan cocked his head to listen to the slap of water against the ship's side. "I don't think you will. You know the gravity of this matter. You have the future of the whole Felger enterprise in your hands, not just mine. Your actions could affect thousands of lives - you're not going to toss that responsibility aside."
Yohan stood a moment, weighing the pistol in his hand. Her words were very beguiling; perhaps her participation could help convince the Baron. He would have an opportunity to find out more about Iskander from her along the way. He looked at her warily. "You think we can get past three armies safely?"
"Damn good chance."
"And the Moonwald - what of all the brigands there?"
"Look in my pack. I brought one of our assault rifles to reassure you."
"Iskander will have some knowledge of our progress?"
Gisel nodded. "I have a radio to make periodic reports. A lot could happen to us before Iskander could send help, but it's nice to know they're there."
Yohan smiled weakly. "If it's good enough for you, I deem I can take the risk. You Iskanders have laughed at dangers in the past."
Gisel jumped up and they shook hands. "Welcome aboard, shipmate. We should go topside to look at our fellow passengers. Marc has checked the ship and found no obvious Empire bully-boys aboard. Give me a moment to get ready."
She wore a blue velvet vest over a fancy shirt with lace at the cuffs and collar. When she fastened her embroidered doublet he caught a glimpse of a pistol butt beside her left breast. She wore leather reinforced breeches to her knees and high riding boots of tooled leather. Exactly the garb of a cut-throat who made too much money from dangerous escapades. He watched as she reached behind her for a rapier and a broad brimmed hat with ostrich-plumes.
"What have you done with your voice?" he asked. "It's much deeper."
She put one hand to her false beard. "There's a small device concealed here that adds lower overtones to my voice."
"Amazing." He couldn't mask his surprise when she set the sash of the rapier over her shoulder swash-buckler fashion. "Should you carry a sword? You look like a young desperado - someone might call you out."
For an answer she drew with a swift motion and leveled the weapon beneath his eyes. "What do you read here?"
There was an inscription engraved upon the blade.
"It's a presentation weapon - the name...a Captain Patara...and the Imperial golden orb insignia. Only two men have the honor to wear such a sword - the named recipient, or the man who kills him in a fair fight."
"Or the woman," she said, her eyes flashing dark daggers. "I led one of the boarding parties onto an Empire ship last September. I met the captain hand to hand on his own quarterdeck. Don't ask me if I know how to use it!"
Yohan looked away chastened as she set the hat on her head.
He felt it safer to confine his conversation to her appearance. "You've cut your hair."
"Yes, I decided I couldn't get away with hiding it, but I had them make it into a wig, in case I want to become myself again." She took a step toward the cabin door and then turned to face him. "How do I look?"
"As I said - like a sword for hire - who some man might pay to do disreputable work. If I saw you in a tavern I'd take care not to meet your eye."
She laughed. "Good! I hope I frighten everyone else as well."
Gisel walked beside Yohan along the spar deck as the little ship made its way down river on the tide. The wind blew fair for this reach, so the deck watch climbed the ratlines to set the fore topsail. The other passengers moved to the lee side, away from the flying spray coming over the beakhead. She noticed Yohan getting quieter as they strolled, staring at her when it seemed she couldn't see him. She directed him to a secluded place beside the forward swivel-gun.
"What's on your mind?"
He avoided her eyes. "You would be reckoned an enemy spy in Lubitz."
"Yep. Likely they'd hang us both."
She saw his eyes widened and his Adam's apple bob. Oh shit - quit shooting off at the lip, girl. When will you learn? He's already spooked. "They'd need to catch me first. What makes you think they'd be suspicious?"
"Well...you're a woman...and if we spent any time at the Misikers..."
"You think your betrothed will object?"
"I wasn't thinking of her."
No, men don't. "If it's any consolation, our plan B calls for me to contact our blockading ships to take me off as soon as we arrive."
"You would not stay in the city? I don't think your disguise will fool people...not over a longer time. If you escort me across the Moonwald - perhaps that would be enough."
"Right, I might just see you to the gates. But there's nothing wrong with my disguise. I'll prove it to you."
His eyes narrowed. "How?"
"Watch me." She led him over to a group of passengers. These people seemed to be experienced travelers, arranging to spend long days and nights of the passage with card games and other gambling. "Anyone interested in a night of Demons' Choice?"
All eyes turned to her, the game was a notorious gambling addiction, something like poker and sure to lead to arguments and fights. They scanned her face and flamboyant garb before taking in the rapier slung from her shoulder.
"What limits, young sir?" asked a short florid man.
"We should not care to play in arms," said another, a thin man with a pale, sickly-looking face and hands weighed down with gold rings.
"As you wish, gentlemen," Gisel said. "My companion can hold my rapier - and a gold piece shall be our king."
"Twenty ducats...I don't know," the florid man said, reaching into his waistcoat pocket. He took out a silver twenty thaler and flipped it into the air. "Silver is enough for me."
Gisel nodded. "Then we shall meet in the saloon after dinner." She swung on her heel and strode away, hearing Yohan's footfall along the deck behind her.
"Do you have to be so bold?"
She stopped. "A timid man doesn't wear this outfit - the whole point is to play a part that only a fool would challenge." A dozen crew hurried past, hauling on a line. They went around Gisel and Yohan instead of pushing them out of the way.
Yohan edged away from the busy crew men and spoke softly. "Tell me more of these armies across our path. Where did yours disembark?"
"At the city of Leki - part of the Lubitz federation. Do you know it?"
Yohan shook his head. "I don't think we've any interests there. Where is it, exactly?"
Gisel tried to keep Gaian geography in mind - it was different enough to Earth's to be confusing. One of Iskander's geologists had told her the last Ice Age had ended more slowly here, so the coastline of the Inland Sea was at a different level than the Baltic's. Tarnland was lower than Sweden, and the Pomeranian coast - Lubitz and Thalia here - higher and more rugged. That made the rivers longer and wider, and the Lubitz River, corresponding to the Oder on Earth, as much an international thoroughfare as the Rhine. The city of Lubitz lay at the river's mouth, further north than the Baltic coastline on Earth.
"It's west of Lubitz, on the coast toward Whonmark." Damned if she didn't want to say, Rostock. "Leki is small but vital to the federation - now Lubitz has lost so much of their overseas possessions in Tarnland. One of the brigades we captured last winter held the greater part of Leki's young men. They're desperate to have them freed."
Gisel paused, likely he was smart enough to guess the advantage of splitting an alliance - even if it meant risking an army on an enemy coast. "When their allies found out the citizens were seeking an armistice, both Lubitz and the Whones moved troops to stop them. Iskander and Tarnland moved in quicker with a guarantee of their independence - they were glad to accept our aid."
"So you have a foothold on the mainland. Whose armies are maneuvering across our route?"
"Whonmark and Lubitz must fight to regain control. They have armies advancing on Leki from each side. The Iskander army has cavalry and light forces pushed far forward to hold up their advance while we build field fortifications around the city."
"You expect a siege?"
"It will settle into one, but now our maneuvers are aimed at intelligence gathering and creating chaos in the enemy's rear. Iskander cavalry is ranging far south to the edge of the Moonwald and across to the Lubitz River. If we don't give the area a wide berth we could fall foul of anybody's army."
Yohan seemed sobered by the information, and didn't ask any more questions. They scanned the riverbank as the ship reached the sharp bend in the river where they'd sent the Empire's soldiers aground a week before. There was no sign of the vessel, or the fight, that she could see. They watched as the Maid's crew trimmed the sails for the new heading and soon after went to their cabin below.
The ship had reached the river estuary by the time the passengers' steward knocked on the cabin door to call them to the evening meal. The small saloon held a single long table, already crowded with the other passengers. When Yohan and Gisel arrived they squeezed in where space remained. Yohan sat between a group of holy men in orange robes and some merchants in velvet doublets and lace collars. Gisel found herself beside a young woman in grey traveling dress and the florid gentleman who'd queried the stakes of the card game. He introduced himself as Guildmarshal Possen, a Lingdon merchant traveling with his wife and niece, Shelna, the young woman at Gisel's side. His wife, seated opposite, bit her lip when she saw her charge seated beside a scallywag adventurer.
A large cauldron of a rather bland stew sat at the center of the table, but since the provisions were still fresh, Gisel made the best of it. She called for a bottle of Frenkish wine and offered some to her seatmate.
The girl blushed shyly. "I'm not accustomed, Sir."
"Ah, well - I'll not want to lead you astray," Gisel answered, with the hint of a leer appropriate for her character. She took the opportunity of the lull in conversation after the breaking of the bread to address a question to a man identifying himself as a fellmonger, sitting opposite. "I presume you are going east for last winter's pelts, Meister. If you are bound for Thalia, how do you propose to make your way?"
"I shall take the "Maid" to the coast of Whonmark," he said, "then wait at Northport for a Thalian ship. I hear they anchor there until three or four are in company before they sail the Narrows into the Inland Sea."
"Is it dangerous, then?" Guildmaster Possen asked, looking up from the piece of bread he'd torn off the loaf for his niece. "Isn't the Narrows open to all ships by common treaty?"
"Aye it is, but a letter from my agent says the treaty is hard done by. The Whones and Lubitz search every ship for Tarnlish cargos - and Iskander's too. Then there are pirates at large as well. This war has the whole region in an uproar."
"No doubt you fellows know something of it," Mistress Possen said with a sly smile at Yohan, taking advantage of her mature years to venture a word into male conversation. "Are you not bound in that direction?"
"We leave the ship at Brehafen, Ma'am," Yohan answered politely.
Gisel attempted to outflank the lady's curiosity by smiling at Shelna. "Isn't it said a man must make his fortune while he's yet young?"
Mistress Possen tossed her head angrily at an exchange she was poorly placed to interrupt and then busied herself with the stew.
The meal passed slowly and an hour of conversation was worked over before the passengers ascended the steep companionway for a turn around the weather deck. They settled their meals with the exercise and waited while the steward cleared the saloon. The sky darkened and the wind freshened off the north shore of the estuary. The little Maid tucked her lee rail close among the waves and made good speed while the light was enough for the lookouts to ensure her safety. Darkness closed in quickly and the crew came up on deck to reduce sail to the main and fore staysail for their night passage as the card players returned below.
Six men and Gisel found places around the head of the saloon table, while a dozen womenfolk and spectators ranged themselves behind. Gisel slipped off her rapier sash to hand to Yohan. His eyes went to her left shoulder, where her pistol was concealed beneath her doublet. She grinned and shook her head slightly - the card players were just going to have to trust to providence and her self control. Iskander regulations required her to be armed at all times.
The thin man with the rings produced a deck of cards and Guildmarshal Possen was appointed to check them over. Remarkably similar to Earth's, the Gaian pack had four suits but they were called Hoplites, Furies, Centaurs, and Nobles. There were the same ten numbered cards in each suit, but the face cards were Knights, Ecclesiarchs, and Autarchs. The Guildmarshal dealt the first hand and Gisel picked up her four cards while scanning the faces of her opponents as they studied theirs.
"I'll buy two more," said a puffy-faced young man who was already on his second bottle of wine. He flipped a ten thaler piece onto the table.
Gisel studied the other players as they judged their responses - the young man was already too drunk to be a threat. She slapped down a twenty - no point in being timid. "I'll see you and take two."
Several men murmured at the quick attainment of the limit. One threw down his cards in disgust. Gisel heard Yohan make a disapproving sound in his throat behind her.
The Guildmarshal's face was unreadable as he played his own twenty and took his cards. The thin man with the rings smiled behind his cards as he did the same. Gisel studied her cards for the first time - she had drawn a pair of Ecclesiarchs so she kept them with a pair of threes, and tossed out two cards.
It was the young drunk's turn. He fumbled in his money pouch on his belt and threw a twenty onto the table.
"That's over the limit!" the man on Gisel's right said, slapping his cards face down on the table.
"Ish a twenty," the young man slurred. "I'm only wagering one of them."
Everyone stared at the ten and the twenty he'd bet. Gisel chuckled - it was impossible for any of the players to back out now. She dropped another ten onto the table, matching the bet. Four more men stayed in and the cards were shown.
Gisel set out her two pairs and none of the others could match them. The others dropped or slammed down their cards angrily. Gisel noticed the thin man did not show his, his rings glinted in the lamplight as he slid the cards into the deck instead. He then gathered up the pack and set about dealing the next hand. Gisel reached out to rake in her winnings as Yohan made a throat clearing sound behind her.
"Did they unmask me yet?" she said under her breath as she turned to him.
Two more hands were played, then the ring wearer won the third with three Autarchs. Gisel lost forty thalers on a good hand and studied the winner's face anew. He displayed a slight tick in his left eyebrow as he stacked a dozen twenty thaler pieces before him. Enough to hire fifty guardsmen to escort his winnings for a day. One of the players left the table.
"Have you had enough?" Yohan asked her quietly. "There'll be a bloodletting yet"
She shook her head. "Not mine."
Four more hands and the young drunk wanted to bet his half-empty wine bottle. "You've had enough," the Guildmarshal said.
"Who're you to tell me? Think yu're my father?" he slurred, "damn hissh gravestones and wormsh!"
"Nay! No more blasphemy."
Gisel reached out to knock his bottle off the table. Amid the crash of breaking glass she said, "If you're out of cash, you're out. We only play for silver here."
He lurched to his feet and tried to come around the table at her. She jumped up in readiness but two of the other men grabbed him to hold him back. "You've lost silver enough, lad," the Guildmarshal said. "Will someone take him to his bunk?"
The struggles and shouting receded down the passage toward the bow as two bystanders and a large holy man wearing bronze bracelets half carried the loser away. Gisel noticed the rest of the holy men had joined the group, as if their services might soon be needed.
Another three hands were played and she started to judge her cards more carefully. She'd established her ranking at the table, and was still sixty thalers up. Then she drew two Autarchs on the first deal. She wagered a twenty. The ring wearer and the Guildmarshal matched her. A third man saw them and raised another twenty. They all stayed in.
Gisel considered her cards - she had a pair of tens to back up the Autarchs. She bet another twenty - then she saw the ring wearer's left eyebrow twitch. If she'd not seen it before she'd never have noticed.
He met her twenty and raised another ten.
Gisel stood. "I think it's time to count the cards."
The ring wearer's face went white. His hands shook with such fury his rings clanked together. "What, lad, do you accuse me of cheating? That'll not get you out of a losing hand!"
Gisel set her cards face up on the table. "Let the Guildmarshal do the honors. I trust to his sense."
"No! I will have satisfaction first."
"As you wish," she said. "My rapier waits behind me."
"I'm no gentleman nor freebooter to handle myself with steel. This pistol shall guard my surety!" He whipped out a small gambler's pistol from his waistband and pointed it toward her, his thumb ready to draw back the hammer.
Gisel wondered if she could draw her own from her shoulder holster before he could cock the piece and fire. It'd be a close call. Even if she succeeded, one of their shots would likely hit a bystander. She spread her hands open at her sides. "Shoot me, then. But first let the Guildmarshal inspect the deck."
The ring wearer stared - his thumb tightening. She heard Yohan draw her rapier. Then the man's determination wavered. His pistol wandered away from her but the impossibility of threatening everyone must have dawned upon his mind. When one of the holy men reached out to take the weapon, he gave no resistance. The Guildmarshal took his cards - he had a pair of Autarchs and a pair of Knights. It looked like an honest hand as well as a winner.
The other players spread their hands on the table.
Gisel scanned them quickly. "How is it that we have five Autarchs showing?"
Sure enough, one of the players had an Autarch of Centaurs in a discarded hand. A player who had been bankrupted several hands before jumped at the ring wearer and took him by the throat. "A Flame-forsaken card-shark! Gambling rascal - I want my money back."
"And I," shouted another.
Someone produced a dagger and buried its point in the table. "Cut off the cheater's fingers."
"Slit his throat," shouted the bankrupted player.
The ring wearer shouted his innocence. Gisel reached behind her to take her rapier from Yohan's hands. She slammed the flat of the blade down on the table with a sharp crack. "Quiet everybody! Let the holy men pronounce what is fair."
"Yes, lad," the Guildmarshal said. "Good thinking."
A new voice boomed behind her. "Aye, sir. Tis a fortunate thing you'm a good head as well as eye." Gisel turned to see the ship's Master had entered the saloon, two of his sailors at his side with belaying pins in their hands.
Yohan took her by the rapier arm and handed her the sash and scabbard as the group broke up into smaller groups of disputants.
The Master took up the cheater's deck. "These shall go overside."
The bankrupted card player scowled. "And so should he."
"Nay," the Master said, motioning his sailors to take hold of the cheater. "A night in irons, then I'll hand him to the harbourmaster when we make port. I shall not have the Maid known as a gambler's haunt."
Yohan tossed half of Gisel's winnings back into the pot for settlement as he pulled her away.
"What are you doing with my money? I won it square."
"Put your rapier away and come to our cabin. I think your square dealing is as near to knavery as any man's here. You've proved your point enough for me."
At daybreak the cry of 'sail ho' took Yohan and Gisel topside. The sea was moderate but the Maid shipped the odd breaker and spray across the deck as they beat hard on the starboard tack. He smelled the salt air and watched the swooping seagulls as he followed Gisel up the companion-ladder to the quarterdeck. They found the master braced at the lee rail with his spyglass trained on the nearest sail. The mate stood beside him, narrowing his eyes. "That further vessel have the long, lean look of a pirate."
"Hush yer foolishness," the master replied.
Yohan stared across the water at the vessels, just visible on the horizon amid the tossing waves. They seemed huge, their white painted hulls lined with black gunports, their three masts billowing with a mass of sails. The black painted tiers showed the larger had two gun decks, the other just one, and between them sailed a small merchantman. Had they already taken one vessel as prize? Was the Maid to be next? They were helpless against such force. He glanced at Gisel. She seemed unconcerned.
The master cast a scornful eye on his subordinate. "What pirate is that size and smartly turned out?" He raised himself from the rail to address Gisel and Yohan. "What say you, sirs? I recognize neither ships nor standards."
"They're flying Iskander ensigns," Gisel said.
"Seth's Blood!" the mate exclaimed. "They be at war."
Yohan felt a stab of excitement - these were the vessels he'd heard about. He stared across the water again, blinking spray from his eyes. It seemed as if the small merchantman was keeping pace with the two warships, though it carried but six sails to the others' dozen.
"Think ye they have a mind to interfere with us?" the master asked Gisel. "I'm flying a Frendlish flag."
"I'd hazard their business has some object further off. They're not beating so hard to windward on our account."
The master regarded her shrewdly but held his questioning.
Gisel stared him down. "Can I borrow your spyglass to look closer?"
As Gisel steadied the glass on the rail, Yohan leaned closer to her. "That ship must carry a hundred guns."
"Seventy-four," Gisel said, under her breath.
"If ye recognizes them," the Master said. "I should take great care not to speak your information too loosely, nor where I heard it. After last night I'll respect your honor. My concern is for my ship and voyage, ye understand."
Gisel set down the glass. "I was at Portisbay when those were a'building. Tis the frigate Kelpie and the battleship Wendigo ."
Yohan smiled at her. "And the small ship?"
From the sharp squint she gave him he realized the merchantman must be Stellar. No wonder she could use but six sails to keep up with these two with all canvas spread.
The Master put out a hand to receive his spyglass back. "These be the biggest ships I ever see."
"Large enough to keep the seas in any weather," Gisel said. "Ships like that can make ocean voyages at any time of year, not like the Empire's perilous passages from landfall to landfall. Of course, it helps to have the navigation for such tasks."
"There's no chance the Maid could outrun either, I'll be bound. I shall needs take your reassurance, sir, and hold my course." He turned to the mate. "Keep a weather eye upon them and mark any change of heading. Make sure the helmsman is 'prised to keep clear - either of they big-uns could run Maid down like a cockleshell."
By this time a dozen other passengers were on the weather deck, staring at the distant sails. Yohan ached to ask Gisel more questions but he waited until they found a space by the mainmast with no one close by.
"Don't quiz me too much," she said. "These sailors are not stupid - they'll wonder where my answers come from."
"Very well, but tell me this. Where are they bound?"
"To join the blockading fleet off Lubitz."
"Even Stellar?"
Gisel gave a wry grin. "I rather think Stellar will afford greater service than these two. You saw some of the equipment aboard. Her crew know everything that moves within two hundred kilometres."
Yohan shook his head, and glanced across the water again at the ships, already drawing away.
"There goes your friend, too," Gisel said.
"Friend?"
"Galen Brough. I had to get him out of my way. I hope he finds service aboard an Iskander warship to his liking."
"You pressed him into Iskander's service?" Yohan glared at her, she had done it again. Was no one safe from her machinations?
The Iskander ships were the topic of everyone's interest for the rest of the day and well after supper was eaten in the passenger's saloon. Yohan and Gisel were the target of many questions because the master had discussed the ships with them. Not knowing many details, Yohan felt safe to join in the general speculation, though taking care not to mention Gisel's information. She kept silent.
The next day they ran eastwards up the Wasbian coast. Once, they put into a small harbor to offload cargo and embark more passengers. During the day, Yohan had Gisel's detailed briefing and some training to ensure they could work together efficiently on their journey. She dismantled the assault rifle for cleaning and showed him how it worked. He snapped at her a couple of times - she seemed to think he knew nothing - but much of her instruction involved novel Iskander devices or procedures.
She seemed on edge and quick to anger - he put it down to the tension of living with the knowledge what was ahead of her in her enemy's lands. She even found good news unwelcome. Her device called a radio told them Iskander's cavalry had routed the Lubitz probes into Leki. She frowned when he expressed satisfaction. "That only makes it certain the next actions will be closer to our route."
In the latter part of the voyage another warship drew over the horizon and slowly worked past them. The passengers and crew of the Maid were as fascinated with it as they had been with the Iskander ships. Gisel kept a wary eye on it when someone recognized it as an Empire rowed warship called a galleass. She found a secluded part of the lee rail and had Yohan stand to mask her from the others while she examined it through some vision device she called binoculars.
"I'd guess it's heading into Brehafen too."
Yohan shrugged. "Surely it has nothing to do with us."
Her expression became grave. "I wouldn't be too sure."
The Maid sailed into the Brehafen roadstead on a fair breeze, so that the Empire ship was little more than a long cannon shot distant when it struck sail in the anchorage. When they glided past under reduced sail to enter the inner harbor the galleass was anchored in the fairway - a common naval practice in a neutral port. A longboat pulled away from its lee and Gisel took hold of Yohan's sleeve to steer him into a sheltered corner beside the fo'c's'le.
"Shield me again. I want to put the glasses on the men in that boat."
"What do you see?"
"I'll tell you in a minute."
Yohan stood waiting for her word in growing anxiety. He thought her stance at the rail seemed less upright and confident as she scanned the longboat. At length she lowered the glasses, her mouth a hard line. "It's Commandante Zagdorf."
Commandante Zagdorf leaned against an upstairs window of a dockside warehouse to watch as the 'Maid of Wallicher' was warped in the last stretch of harbor to the dock. He could see a few passengers assembling on deck, getting in the way of crewmen as they hauled on mooring lines - the way civilians always did. The sooner his quarry disembarked the better. In a few hours he hoped to be back aboard the Imperial warship with Yakob Felger's letter and the secret items the Iskanders had given his son.
Would he take the lad back with him? It all depended - his informant had known the destination and planned route of the journey, but little else. The letter would tell him if these Felgers had become the Emperor's enemies, or whether it would suit his purpose to earn the father's gratitude. Grof Hrutich, his veteran sergeant, commanded the men he'd brought ashore; they wore no uniform to ensure no one could identify them as Empire soldiers when they seized the lad.
Zagdorf regarded the busy confusion of the dockside with tolerant amusement - he had fooled the Iskanders this time. Even if they had an informant in this seaport, many months might pass before they realized they'd get no reply from the Baron. He turned from the window. "You, Corporal, watch the ship and tell me when they start disembarking. Sergeant, give me three of your men to commandeer horses. We will conduct this business on the road."
Sergeant Hrutich picked out the men and saluted. "How many mounts, Commandante?"
"A dozen. For six men in uniform and six disguised."
"Where should they get them?"
"Take this to the town militia. The officer will obey the Imperial service, or the Duke of Makberg will hear about it." He handed over the official requisition he'd prepared. The semi-autonomous Duchy was an outpost of the Empire - soon to be less of an outpost when an Imperial army arrived to join Lubitz and the Whones in war against the Iskanders. The army did not concern him - he was impatient to get back to Lingdon. As soon as Felger was caught he could get back to his operation to capture those damned Iskander spies.
He called after the troopers as they made for the door, "Tell the Militia officer nothing. The Imperial seal will satisfy him - or else!"
The senior man saluted. "Aye, Sir."
When the soldiers descended the staircase, Hrutich looked at him expectantly.
"I don't want the Felgers to know I have any part of this. All they're to know is that the lad was set upon by bandits." He might need the family's friendship or their money for his future advancement.
The man at the window stamped his boot smartly. "The passengers is beginnin' to leave the ship, Commandante."
Zagdorf and the sergeant joined him. Zagdorf leaned against the window frame to scan the dockside. "You know who you're looking for?"
The man seemed at a loss - and Sergeant Hrutich glared. "That tall young fellow we was after that other day - when the Flame-forsaken Iskanders fired on us."
"Ah ... you means he? I knows 'im. Us'll fix 'in this time."
"He's not to be killed," Zagdorf said quickly. "Rough him up a little."
"And the bodyguard?" Hrutich said.
Zagdorf stared hard. "Do you know what he looks like?"
"They says he'm as tall as the lad, but twice as broad."
"You can kill him. Make sure the young Felger sees him die - that will put the fear of the Thousand Demons into him."
Hrutich stared out the window. "There's Felger, but I don't see the other fellow."
Zagdorf scanned the crowd of disembarking passengers keenly. "Defile him! What are they up to?"
"Felger's on the dock. Hiring a porter with a handcart."
Zagdorf pulled the sergeant away from the window. "Take these last two troopers out onto the landing and make sure they identify Felger correctly. I want them to follow him - see where he goes and what he does." He fixed the two men with his most intimidating glare. "He is not to know you follow - understand?"
"Yes, Commandante," they chorused.
"There is a big man on the dockside somewhere - this lad's bodyguard. Keep an eye out for him."
The two troopers saluted. Zagdorf scrutinized the bustle on the docks until they stomped down the outside staircase and Hrutich returned. Still no sign of Brough.
"You and I had best go aboard the ship to find Brough. I don't like this, I smell some trick." He pulled his riding cloak over his uniform. "You ask the questions, but make sure no one learns we are in Imperial service."
"Aye, Commandante. You may rely upon me."
Gisel stood with Guildmarshal Possen and his family half way between the Maid and the warehouse buildings lining the city side of the dockyard concourse. "I'd advise you to travel to Makberg in daylight, Guildmarshal, not now."
"Indeed. Why so?'
"I have it on good authority that the Duke of Makberg is assembling an army. A night journey could place your party at the mercy of any freebooters or wastrels attracted to the disorder of war."
"By the Holy Flame! I thank you for the advice. I'll take rooms in the town and ride the morning stage. If you'd care, perhaps you'll stay with the ladies while I go to the port watch office to locate satisfactory lodging."
Gisel needed freedom of action, she hesitated a moment before answering. "Certainly, Sir. It'll be a pleasure." She watched Yohan and the porter loading their packs onto his handcart. Zagdorf had gained an alarming amount of information about their journey to be able to catch up to them. She'd advised their splitting up so she could cover Yohan from a distance. Her replacement of Brough had better be a surprise - she could see no Empire troopers, but Yohan was bound to be followed as soon as he set out.
Gisel smiled at the Guildmarshal's niece. "I hear you go to the city to be married, Mistress. I wish you the best with your marital venture. Remember that a wife who bewitches her husband with greater delight than he expects enjoys favor beyond her expectations."
She blushed. "Tush, Sir. I'm just a simple girl . . ."
"Slight not such simple girls, Mistress." Gisel stared across the concourse at Yohan as she spoke, his man had taken up the shafts of his cart in preparation to move off. "A woman need not rely upon weakness to gain sympathy. You doubtless heard stories in Lingdon about Iskander's women soldiers."
"That Wildcat, Sir. She is said to be worth ten men."
Gisel smothered her impulse to laugh. "Surely that proves women need be neither weak nor helpless."
"Enough, Sir," Madam Possen protested. "Do not fill the child's head with foolishness."
Yohan and the handcart man turned into a street off the concourse. Gisel noticed two men striding through the crowd behind them. Two men, not in uniform, but with the step of soldiers. She'd better get after them - quickly. Where was the Guildmarshal?
Yohan vanished into the town, the two men close behind him. Gisel was relieved to see Possen coming toward her in the company of a peg-legged man. She scanned the fronts of the row of warehouses for some sign of Zagdorf. He had to be in one of them, observing from cover.
Guildmarshal Possen spoke breezily as he rejoined them. "Well, young Sir, I must repay the kindness of your information. Will you come with us for a bumper before we part?"
"Regretfully, I cannot. I must hurry after Meister Yohan." Gisel offered her right hand quickly, and shook the old gentleman's.
"Then you and your friend should look me up in Lingdon - "
"Indeed, Sir, we shall - "
With the slightest bow to the ladies, she moved away. Almost at once, she saw two men descending the wooden staircase in front of one of the warehouses. One was hatchet faced, scarred and with no left eye, the other had his cloak drawn tight and hat pulled down. Gisel recognized his build and thick neck - Zagdorf.
She pushed her way through the crowded dock concourse, stopping twice in cover to see where Zagdorf went. They were making for the 'Maid'. As soon as Zagdorf gained a description of Yohan's companion, her trick would be discovered. She had no time to lose.
A narrow alley cut across the back of the Guildhall in the direction of Yohan's destination. She set out quickly to gain ground on his pursuers. What would Zagdorf be planning? He had two men following the quarry. Did he mean to attack them in the town or follow them to a quiet part of the road? Bet he wants to keep his actions secret.
As she came out from behind the Guildhall the two men crossed the wide thoroughfare toward the entrance of a tall building. 'Yerley Livery Stable' a sign above the double doors read - 'Carriages Supplied to Gentry'. She sprinted into the street between a heavy dray and two passing horsemen. As she reached the double gateway, she met the porter coming out with his empty cart. He stared back over his shoulder - had Zagdorf's men frightened him?
Inside, she took the first staircase to the hay loft. Stopping briefly at the head of the worn stairs she drew her pistol and cocked it. A few yards further on was an opening for a bale hoist, she glanced into the lower level as she passed - into a well-stocked carriage house. Two lads hurled water at a muddy barouche, the suds splashing on one another. Their laughter almost drowned out the sound of voices from the far end of the building. Zagdorf's men were that way.
The next section smelled of horses, lined with horse stalls - some empty and some holding well-groomed animals. Horses snorted, stamped a hoof, or shook their heads - a stable lad walked slowly between the stalls. Gisel noticed his attention was drawn to something behind him, beyond her sight.
"Up here," she called softly.
His head jerked up, his mouth dropping open.
"The young gentleman who hired the two riding mounts - where is he?"
"At the stable yard, your honor. . . What be doin' up there . . .? Be not allowed . . ."
Gisel turned away quickly. Two wings of the building stretched away from her. Both echoed with the sounds of running feet. Which way? One stretched away into darkness, the other had an open loft door at the far end. The daylight meant outside - maybe the stable yard. A shout of alarm rang out - from the lighted wing. She launched herself forward.
Then a pistol shot, the woof of a black-powder weapon. Gisel sprinted the whole length between fresh stacked bales of hay. More shots - Yohan's revolver this time. She dove for the edge of the hay loft, and peered over the wooden sill. A groom in the stable yard struggled to hold two frightened horses as he backed them into an alcove. Across the far side, Yohan stood beside an open door. His back was to the wall - his pistol in his hand. He twisted his body to peer inside. From a window behind him the head and shoulders of a man appeared. Six feet away from Yohan. He raised a flintlock pistol, tilting the firing pan uppermost like a good cavalryman.
Gisel raised her automatic and fired in one motion. She swung out of the opening. The man cried out and clutched his shoulder. His pistol hit the ground.
Yohan whirled as Gisel landed on her feet in the stable yard.
"Where's the other one?" she shouted.
"In there!" Yohan pointed back to the lower level of the building she'd left.
"You take the window. I'll take the door."
He leaped to the window and fired two shots inside. Gisel dove through the doorway, hit the floor, rolled and sprang to her feet. The second assailant ducked back into an empty stall, dropping the pistol he'd been trying to reload. "I surrender! Don't shoot me!"
"Toss your saber out!" Gisel ordered.
The weapon landed near her feet. Yohan came running in through the doorway.
"Come out slowly," Gisel said. "Keep your hands in sight."
Yohan rushed up to him, brandishing the pistol.
"Don't shoot, lord. Please don't shoot me!"
"What happened?" Gisel asked Yohan, putting a steadying hand on his arm.
Yohan's face worked - he waved the pistol back and forth. "These two were just behind me - "
"This crazy fool came at us with a drawn pistol!" the man said. "Wot was we to do?"
"Holster the pistol, Meister! There's one shot still in it and you're likely to do some damage. I told you to keep calm and wait for me to -"
"Right behind that wall!" Yohan jabbed the revolver toward his holster. "I couldn't - "
"No time to discuss it now. The shots will have roused the whole neighborhood - we'll have the militia here in a moment."
She reversed the pistol in her hand. With a roundhouse swing, she hit the man behind the ear. He crumpled to the ground.
"The horses ready?"
"Yes. I was just waiting for you."
They darted into the stable yard and took the bridles from the groom's shaking hands. Yohan leaped into the saddle. Gisel stood a moment at her horse's head, handing the groom a silver Ducat as he backed away. "Here fellow. That's to make yourself scarce and not answer any questions."
The wounded man lay on the ground under the window. He clutched his upper arm, his eyes cast downwards as blood pulsed out between his fingers. Gisel put a foot into the stirrup and mounted. "Call someone to tend him," she shouted to the groom, now running from the stable yard. "Else he bleeds to death."
She urged her horse forward and dug heels to its flanks. "Let's get out of here before Zagdorf's men can get horses."
Marc hurried down the gangplank when the stinking tub he'd taken passage on tied up against the dock at Brehafen. Over his drab brown riding clothes he wore the surcoat of a royal messenger - quartered in red and blue. Hopefully, the Royal Treasurer of Lingdon would not be too outraged when he received a demand for payment that should go to Iskander. The bugged conversations picked up by the pistol told him where Gisel and Yohan were headed, so he asked directions to the Yerley Livery Stable from someone in the afternoon crowd of onlookers on shore. The transmissions had cut off suddenly, four days before. Goddammit Gisel, why did you pull the bug?Four days since she'd checked in by radio. He'd not been able to sleep since he learned Zagdorf had left in haste aboard an Imperial warship.
He'd been ordered back to check on his shipyard post while she was away, but he couldn't give up without one more chance to reignite their old relationship. Call him a fool, but he couldn't get the little minx out of his head. He pretended he misunderstood his new instructions - and that he was supposed to continue working with her. It meant he couldn't switch on his sat-comm. - the first thing he'd hear would be a blast of anger from Colonel M'Tov, and orders to get back to the shipyard.
At the livery stable he learned about the shooting affray the day before. Dammit, Girl! How the hell can I be your backup when I don't know where you are? The groom he cornered hadn't seen the action himself, but he was full of the story. "Two big men they was...shot an' bleedin' in the courtyard."
"Both big men? Older? You're sure they weren't both young - one with almost girlish face - with a small goatee?"
"Ah, you means the sinister one. He done the shootin' I were told."
Marc felt a slight relief. "After the shooting? Where did they go?"
"Took outa here at a gallop, by all accounts."
"Which way?"
"Ah! If I but knew. The big feller with the rapier offered twenty Ducats for certain word on that."
"A big man with a bull neck? Probably in uniform?"
"Some was dressed to so'jers, some wasn't. The big man were here agin' this mornin'. Looked angry 'nuff to spit nails."
Marc felt certain the man was describing Zagdorf, but the fellow hadn't finished his story.
"He come in here quizzin' ever'one. A whole squadron o' Makberg lancers waitin' in the street."
Marc stiffened. "A whole squadron? How many?"
"Two score, or more. Armed and mounted. When he leaved, he were a'tellin' them off to differ'nt roads."
Damn, that didn't tell him much - except that Zagdorf didn't know which way to go, either. "You're certain of that? Different roads."
"Aye, yer honor. I was standing out front to fetch a horse. Heard him mesel'."
"I'll need a horse - a good, fast mount."
"Speak to the Hostler - through that doorway."
Once mounted, Marc left the city by the nearest gate. He decided to ride the Novrehan road as fast as he could. It would be longer than the route Gisel had described - south of the Moonwald - but he could get ahead of her. He could do it in two days and nights, changing horses at the staging posts along the way.
As he started out on the moderately well-kept highroad he fretted over what he'd learned. Zagdorf had been angry - probably meant he'd had to change his plans. As his own trading ship had been coming in he'd seen the galleass making headway out of Brehafen under oar power. If Zagdorf had enough clout to commandeer such a ship he'd a lot more pull than most middle-rank officers. Add to that the authority to demand such a large search party from the local commanders...Christ, this was turning into a major operation!
Was Gisel underestimating the opposition they'd brought against themselves? Everything he'd learned showed how seriously the Empire viewed the Felger contact. Did Zagdorf know he was chasing her, and not Brough? Don't be careless, you little dickens.
Damn the girl - why did he still love her? She'd been nothing but trouble. And just when she'd agreed to marry him, that damned Lord Ricart had come along. He felt a pain in his chest, and his breath rasped. But Ricart was gone...out of her life. Out of his way. When they met on the road to Lubitz...there'd only be young Felger with them. He was no threat - Gisel didn't really like his type - just a big rich dork...
The road was almost deserted and Marc rode as fast as he thought his mount could take. The first posting station would be ten leagues away; he could make it by nightfall. The countryside was green, with pastures full of cattle and scattered thatched roofed cottages. This was one of the Empire's protectorates, prospering under the army's strict order. Away to his left he could see the highest hills of the Moonwald, cloaked in dark pines. Pine trees loved thin sandy soil and in those rolling sand hills would be no green pastures, no peace and order, just the haunts of outlaws. The longer he rode with those hills looming closer, the more certain he became - if Gisel knew she were pursued, that's where she'd make for. No one would find her there. But how would he know which way she'd come out?
Early the morning after their departure from Brehafen, Gisel called a halt as they rode out of the trees and found a well-traveled trail leading north. The forest lay dark on the hillsides above them, and a sharp wind smelling of rain shook the tree branches and blew cold against their exposed skin. Grey rain clouds slouched against the tops of the hills, but fallen pine needles crunched dryly under their horses' hooves.
Yohan pulled his cloak tighter about his throat as he looked down at the recent hoofmarks. "Will we take this path?"
"No. It leads to Makberg. The next two valleys are parallel - we'll cross more trails like this before we reach the Lubitz frontier. Best we take care. A large body of horsemen traveled north on this recently."
"This would take us out of the Moonwald quickly."
"And put us on the Lubitz road in the middle of the war. How do we know these tracks are not from horsemen looking for us?"
Yohan paled. "Let's get away from here."
They turned off the track and cantered up the hill through the trees. One advantage of dry country, the trees were spaced like those in a park. Their ride between them gave good cover without the limbs being hazardous. The trees and sand also deadened the sounds of their horse's hooves, but as they climbed the rise above the next valley it was clear they could not deaden the sounds of a more significant column. A distinct clank of metal, the squealing of poorly greased wheels, and tramp of many feet came from below.
They reined in, just short of the open hilltop.
"What do you suppose -?"
"Quiet. Dismount and tie the horses behind that alder thicket. I'm going to find a vantage point to see into the valley bottom."
Gisel took the binoculars from her saddlebag and slung the assault rifle on her right shoulder, her fist wrapped around the grip. Making her way between the thicket and the trees she found a place where she could see the track below to glass it.
A muffled footfall sounded behind her and she heard Yohan's breathing. "What can you see?"
"Soldiers, cannon, pikemen, and musketeers - I'd guess an Imperial turma."
"Going to Makberg?"
She nodded. It looked as if the Empire was throwing significant strength against them. Iskander and its ally could be in deep shit - but she daren't let the Felgers guess the extent of the danger. She kept her voice from giving away the hollow feeling in her stomach. "Right; looks like the Emperor intends to join the war. I'll have to contact our people in Tarnland right away."
"And those hoofmarks on the other trail - part of this force?"
"Probably a cavalry screen. We're lucky we didn't blunder into them."
They watched for almost an hour before the last of the column marched out of sight. Gisel took out the copy of the remote sensing photography she used as a map. It showed the ground cover, larger communities and well defined routes. Their lack of local information meant no towns were named, but in a few places, the relative elevations had been overprinted.
"The highest hill around is just south of us. We'll make for it and camp there tonight."
"Why a hill?"
"It'll have a good sky view - for my radio communication."
"Oh," he said. Gisel knew he didn't understand.
"Is it safe, Gisel? Zagdorf's men will be somewhere south."
"We don't know that - we're only guessing."
"You said they'd be guarding the routes out of the Moonwald."
Gisel laughed softly. "You don't know me yet. Sometimes I lie."
Yohan scowled. "So where are his men? You don't know?"
"I'm judging by what I'd do if I were in his position." She let her binoculars fall to her chest and stood up. "But I'm not Zagdorf."
His face creased in disappointment. "I thought we had lost them. Your plan made sense."
"Yes, and so does this. If Zagdorf has alerted this Imperial force to watch for us, we can't continue to Lubitz this way. We must go back to the highroad and take another track."
"Zagdorf's troopers could be there."
"Possibly, but I'd rather risk a dozen than a thousand."
After a quick supper Gisel established contact with Iskander Control in Tarnland, using a booster and satellite antenna on her field comm to reach the relay transmitter on the starship. Yohan watched fascinated as she used the signal strength meter to point the satcomm antenna at the distant Iskander, just a few degrees above the southwest horizon. She passed on the message about the Imperial column, but the radio operator complained constantly he could barely make out what she said. Gisel worried her booster powerpack had almost died - she'd not had much sunlight to recharge it. Her lantern was getting dim, too.
The operator's voice was indistinct. "Is M...rc ...with you?"
"Did you say, Marc?"
"Marc...with you?"
"Why would Marc be with me?"
"Warning...'dorf following. He's not...shipyard."
"I know about Zagdorf. We're keeping out of his way."
"Took ship... Brehafen. Must be looking ...."
Gisel glanced up into Yohan's face. Was Marc following them? "Oh no. I hope not."
She keyed the mike again. "Tell him to return to Lingdon. Everything under control. Return to Lingdon."
The distant operator's voice was chopped up in the static. "Losing...Losing you."
"Tell Marc to go back. Go back. Do you read me?"
No answer. The static in the speaker wailed and whistled.
Yohan shook his head. "What did you mean - everything under control? There are a thousand Empire soldiers in these hills."
"Nothing Marc could do about them. He'd be risking his life here for nothing. He probably thinks he's helping me - we might wind up trying to rescue him."
"You don't give him much credit."
Gisel grinned. "He's a man."
"So am I. Am I useless too?"
Gisel looked up from unrolling her bedroll. "You're coming along well. You didn't get killed at Brehafen - you didn't fall overboard on the 'Maid'."
"You are laughing at me."
"Sorry, I'm tired - maybe a bit more tense than I realize."
"Have you done this kind of thing much?"
"Too much. The last three years."
Yohan shook his head. "You must have as much experience as the one they call Wildcat."
Gisel paused from repacking the radio. "Exactly the same experience."
He stared at her. "Exactly - ?"
"I am the Wildcat, Meister Yohan. Disappointed?"
He didn't answer, his expression seemed neither pleased nor dismayed. What had he expected - a six foot amazon? Gisel resumed packing. "Ah, well. I'll have to try to live up to my reputation - might be difficult."
"You have not disappointed...so far."
"Now you're teasing me."
Yohan smiled.
Gisel stopped what she was doing and put a hand out, palm up. "Oh, shit!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I felt a raindrop - and another."
"I thought you said these hills were very dry."
"Not because it doesn't rain - because the rain soaks into the ground right away. Help me with this waterproof sheet. We'll have to rig a shelter to sleep under."
"It's very small, we must sleep side by side. Is that - "
Gisel laughed. "I may not think you're a topnotch agent - but I do think you're a gentleman. Hurry, or we'll get soaked."
They rode through rain all next day, draped in sodden traveling capes, with steam rising from their mounts' flanks whenever they urged them into a gallop. Evening came early and still the rain pelted down. The trees of the Moonwald thinned and the trail branched into a score of paths deeply incised by generations of cattle. They reached a large village, silent of everything but rivulets and streams of water pouring from the thatched roofs - its only signs of life the heavy wet smoke from its hearths hanging in the air. They trotted the horses down a muddy cow path to the equally wet and rutted main thoroughfare and drew rein in the crossroads.
Gisel tilted her head so water ran off the brim of her hat. "This is the highroad."
Yohan wiped water from his eyebrows. "You're sure? I wonder if there's an inn?"
"Could be. This is about the right place for the posting station at Walrode."
"Which way, do you think?"
Gisel turned her mount's head east. "The center of the village is this way."
They'd not gone far before they reached a building larger than the whitewashed mud and wattle cottages of the villagers. Low and rambling, it had a central section high enough for a second floor hunched under the rain - dormer windows peering suspiciously across the grey weather-beaten thatch of the lower storey. She rode into the cobbled forecourt and dismounted.
A youth ran out from an outbuilding and took her mount's bridle. "Stable your horse, Meister?"
Gisel shook her head. "Not yet. Hold our animals here until we either return or send word we're staying."
Yohan dismounted with a question in his eyes.
"We'll make enquiries first."
They squelched across the cobbles to the entranceway. Another lad threw the door open before them and took their wet capes and hats. Gisel scanned the dim-lit rooms beyond for a possible threat. The interior was long and low, the ceiling supported by oaken pillars beneath heavy black-tarred beams. Smoky oil lamps and ancient horse brasses hung on the plastered walls, and a huge fire flamed in the wide hearth where a scullion turned a haunch of beef upon a spit.
Near the open hearth stood a serving bench of square dressed stone surmounted by a polished wooden counter. Earthenware jugs of ale, pewter tankards, brass-bound drinking cups of horn, and flagons of country wine were arrayed in front of a large red-faced fellow with a fringe of unkempt hair about a shiny bald pate. Only a single customer, a black clad clerkish man sipping from a horn beaker, kept this landlord company.
"And how may my hostelry be of service, young gentlemen?"
"That depends," Gisel answered. "Has the stage gone through or is it late?"
"Tis late indeed in this terrible weather but it's gone an hour hence."
"Good." She turned to Yohan. "You ask about the cavalry," she whispered, nodding toward the innkeeper.
"Ah, yes." He grasped her meaning and leaned against the counter. "There's word of a troop of cavalry on the road. Is it true?"
"A band of horsemen come through here," the landlord said.
"Oh really." Yohan smiled as if pleased at the news. "Is there a thick-necked gentleman with them? Short haired, lined and weather-beaten face, with a long green cloak and rapier?"
"And a sergeant," Gisel added. "One-eyed and a scar on his left cheek."
"I seen your gentleman," the landlord said, "but no sergeant as you describes."
"Good enough, it's well they're on the road," Gisel said. "We may take time to refresh ourselves. Send word outside to the stable lad, and fetch your best bottle of wine, landlord. A glowing iron to warm it, and hot meat pies will drive some chill from our bones."
The landlord's expression perked up.
"Did the horsemen stay long?" she asked again.
"Nay! That they did not. Called for ale and bread to be taken to them in the forecourt, and gulped it from the saddle."
"Didn't even dismount? What o'clock was this?"
"Early," came the reply. "They was away on the road to Novrehan ere the sun was a hand's breadth above the hills," he said from the doorway behind the counter.
"It sounds as if they're long gone," Yohan said quietly to Gisel when the inkeeper disappeared. "We could stay - "
"But not the sergeant."
"Maybe he's still in Brehafen," he whispered. "Zagdorf seems to have collected some cavalry - he has concluded we're making for Lubitz by the high road and is making all speed to catch us."
Gisel nodded. It didn't do to make too detailed a theory without better information. "Did these riders - this gentleman - make enquiries?" she asked as the landlord returned.
The black-clad clerk raised his head for the first time, his face flushed as if he'd been drinking all day. "They asked if we'd seen two young horsemen armed - such as yourselves."
"And you told them not?" Yohan said.
The landlord carried out a large flagon of wine and conducted them to a place beside the fire. "There's always riders on the road. I told him perhaps we had - and perhaps we hadn't."
A young woman with bright golden hair came out from the inner door bearing two steaming meat pies on a wooden platter. "Do you seat yourselves here, sirs? I'll set the platter beside ye."
"Will we ever!" Yohan smiled as he flopped into a cushioned chair, looking as content and pleased as Gisel had ever seen him. She thought quickly - if Zagdorf was on the road ahead of them, there was no point in hurrying on. Perhaps it'd be safe to spend the night here - she had to think about her companion's morale. He'd be better coaxed into becoming a seasoned campaigner, she realized - the way a general started a new regiment on an easy task.
"What's your name, mistress?" Yohan asked the young serving maid. She was a sweet-faced youngster, her ample bosom heaving within her coarse crimson dress. She set the platter down on a small table, and knelt before him to help pull off a sodden riding boot. "Beth, sir. The landlord's my father."
Gisel reached for one of the pies and took a large bite. "That's notice to behave yourself."
Yohan looked up, his eyes angry. "I need no such to mind myself."
"Have you a room with two good beds?" Gisel asked the landlord before he could return to his counter.
"I have many rooms, sir. But I'm expecting a party of merchants with laden pack ponies for sundown - they sent word ahead. I could spare room for two more. Is it one room ye want?"
"Two would be better," Yohan said, too quickly.
The landlord stood wiping his hands on an apron. "Ah well, I'm not so sure. There could be travelers on the high road wanting a dry room this night. If no one takes my last room by midnight - "
"We'll be sound asleep by then." Gisel looked meaningfully at Yohan. "I want to be on the road soon after first light."
Yohan was startled awake with a pistol thrust into his face. Dawn light streamed through the dormer window.
"Where's the other fellow?" said a rough male voice.
"What . . .? Who . . .?" He struggled to rise but couldn't move under the man's vicious grip.
"Your companion, Galen Brough, or whatever his name is. Where is he?"
Yohan managed to raise his head enough to look about. Three men stamped about, ransacking the room. One found Gisel's rapier and held it up with a triumphant cry. The fellow holding Yohan down had a hatchet face and long hooked nose - a missing eye and livid scar on his cheek identified him. Zagdorf's sergeant Gisel had seen in Brehafen.
The bedding Gisel had used was strewn sideways across the floor. The dormer window swung open.
The sergeant heaved Yohan to his feet by the scruff of the neck. "Curse you. Give answer!" He swung the pistol in his hand. The hard metal smashed Yohan across the face. His head reeled and shards of pain lanced up into his eyes and skull. He sprawled to the floor, spitting blood.
"Get the bastard up," the sergeant ordered.
Two soldiers turned from their looting to drag Yohan to his feet. While they held him, the sergeant stepped forward and slammed three hard punches into his belly. Yohan doubled over. The room darkened with pain.
His hair was yanked and his face pulled upwards. Another blow to the face, this time with a fist. "Tell me where Brough is!"
"Don't know," he managed to gasp. His mouth hardly formed the words, his lower face felt as if it had become detached. "Left in the night - "
"Liar! Tell me the plan." The soldiers dragged Yohan around and bent him double. The sergeant punched him in the kidneys. A kick to the groin ended the assault and they let him collapse on the floor.
He struggled for consciousness. They'd had no plan except to be away at first light - but it was already dawn. Had Gisel escaped or was she outside on the roof?
"Look at these!" he heard one of the men say.
"A pistol. Iskander cavalry pistol I dinna doubt!"
"And this one. What in Death's name is this?"
His spirits collapsed. Pain prevented him from lifting his head. He could guess what they'd found - the Iskander rifle, but there was still a chance she had her concealed pistol. A darkness of pain and despair closed in upon him and he fainted.
Yohan floated in a scented garden and yearned to stay but a distant ache nagged at him. He clutched at the pleasant feeling - helpless to retain it - as the pain came crashing back. He pulled his knees tight against his belly and groaned.
"He'm comin' round. Fetch the sergeant."
Yohan explored the taste of blood in his mouth and found a jagged shard of tooth. He tried opening his eyes and found that one, at least, answered his command. The other emitted a dull and puffy ache.
A door slammed. The sergeant came around from behind him. "Sit up, Felger. We know all about you. In a few minutes we'll have Galen Brough too - then you'll both start singing."
"Does Zagdorf know you're treating me like this?" Yohan slurred, raising his head to his captors.
The sergeant bent down to thrust his face into Yohan's. "Who is this Zagdorf? We don't know such a man."
"If you say so. He doesn't want to be blamed?"
The sergeant drew back a fist to punch Yohan in the stomach.
"Oof!" But Yohan barely felt it. On top of all the other pains, it was nothing. "You know I'm from the Felger family - friends of the Emperor. You'll all be punished for this . . ."
There was a sudden movement as a soldier drew off to kick him.
Yohan flinched in anticipation.
The sergeant jerked forward quickly. "Leave off! We'll let others do the persuading."
More soldiers pushed into the room, talking across one another and arguing. Yohan saw they were now downstairs, in one of the inn's front parlors.
"We have Brough's sword - aye, and that gun thing."
"He can have no weapons now. Tis only a matter of time . . ."
Yohan was hauled to his feet and dumped into a large wooden chair. They lashed his feet to the legs, his hands pulled tight behind him and tied at the wrists. He twisted his head to see about the room.
It was low and gloomy, yet long enough for a table with a dozen places laid as if for a meal. There was one small window at the end, set with small panes of greenish glass. A soldier struggled to open Gisel's saddlebag, the top piece of their baggage piled in one corner. The closure was sealed by an Iskander device and the man grew red-faced as he sawed uselessly at the shiny fabric with a knife. That material was not going to reveal its secrets quickly. Another man drew Gisel's sword from its sheath.
"Sarge, there's words on this blade. Wot do they say?"
The sergeant stepped forward, he had Yohan's revolver tucked into his waistband. "How the hell should I know? Ask Felger. Doubtless he can read."
The two came over to him.
"This Galen Brough is an Iskander spy," the sergeant said. "What does his sword say?"
"You're making a mistake. My companion is a secret agent of the Empire - even you can see the Imperial crest upon his weapon."
"Don't lie to me." The sergeant bunched a fist. "The Commandante would know - if that were truth."
"The Emperor has more than one agent," Yohan said. He tried to look as intense as his sore face permitted. "We're on a separate duty to Zagdorf's. He must be notified of his mistake."
"We don't know this Zagdorf."
One of the soldiers looked worriedly at the sergeant. "Do he speak truth?"
"Of course not. It's but a decoy of words. See these things they carry! Isn't that proof of Iskander's purpose - "
"But mayhap us should get Za...our officer's word - "
"Aint that his place?" a skinny fellow with thick eyebrows demanded. "We're soldiers - tis an officer's duty to judge prisoners."
They stood arguing for several minutes. At length the sergeant stepped free. "All I know is that Brough is still at large. Until we has him our business isn't done. First we find Brough - then we send word to Novrehan."
The soldier with thick eyebrows waved a hand at the table. "Wot about the food? T'will be here directly."
"All night we rode - we needs some strong ale!"
"Curse you for fools living by yer bellies. A squad of you may stay here to guard the prisoner and the evidence - the rest comes with me. We'll tear the village apart if we must - but that Brough will nigh be found!"
He picked the men he wanted to accompany him and marched them away. Five were left in the room, the corporal in charge swaggering about with Gisel's assault rifle. The fellow had no idea how to work it and Yohan flinched every time he pulled experimentally on the cocking lever or thumbed the safety on and off. It seemed probable he'd spray the room with bullets any second.
One of the soldiers stomped to the door to shout. "Where's that ale, wench? Bring the cursed ale at once!"
Two of the men took hold of Yohan, chair and all, and dragged him away from the table. One leaned down into Yohan's face. "You gets no food. Like as not you've eaten better'n us all yer life."
"Whose men are you?" Yohan asked through swollen lips. "You're Imperial troopers."
One of the men sneered and leaned closer. "You don't need to know."
"My companion saw Zagdorf in Brehafen. Where is Zagdorf hiding?"
"We jus' knows what we're told," the fellow answered. "If we'm told we're the soldiers of the Queen o' Thalia - then that's who us be."
"You're going to Makberg," Yohan said. "To fight the Emperor's new war in Tarnland. The Iskanders will tear you all to pieces."
"We goes where we's ordered . . ."
Another laughed. "Say 'yes lord' - an' do what we wilst."
"Leave him," the corporal said, swinging the muzzle of the gun in an arc. "When Commandante's finished with him he'll be no more than pickin's for ravens."
There was a noise of movement from the corridor outside; four more of the troopers filed in. "Is there soup yet?" the first said. "We found the wench wi' the ale."
In the center of the group was a young woman in the crimson dress, but this wasn't the landlord's daughter. Her hair was dark, not golden. When she turned her glance on him, Yohan could barely hold his tongue.
"Sit ye down, sirs. I'll pour ye such mugs of ale as you'll ever remember."
A soldier grabbed her by the waist and thrust a hand into the front of her dress. "Aye. Hurry and pour the ale. Methinks ye've other talents for us to use."
Yohan would have spoken up in outrage, but she slid away and swung a quick hand to box the man's ears. The others laughed as her attacker fell back with a surprised yelp. She pushed another down into a chair and leaned over him to fill a tankard on the table. He pressed his face to her bodice. "Wait up," she said. "You'd best have ale first - you'll have no strength for drinking if you play at push wi' me."
The soldiers laughed.
One of those who'd entered with Gisel tried to reach a hand up her dress and received her knee in his face. "Damn frisky bitch!" he cried, putting a hand to his nose. "You'll be dancin' different when I'm into you."
"The guards is first wi' her," one said, slamming a fist down on the table. "Sergeant sent you to search the stables."
"What are you men doin' in here now?" the corporal demanded. "You can't have done there."
"Us found this'n." A soldier indicated Gisel. "We asked what her was doin' in the stables and her said to come for ale."
"Bloody sergeant won't know we're here - he've gone down to the far end of village. They'm working back to make sure Brough don't slip away."
Yohan felt a slow burning anger at the way they handled Gisel, but she seemed unconcerned. She gave him the briefest glance as she pushed by the chair. It was a sharp look that tried to convey volumes. His mind raced. Did she have a plan?
"Ye need more ale - I'll go fetch it," she said, stepping back from the table and nearly upsetting Yohan's chair. He managed to throw his weight forward to right it. "Your dancing bear have some good moves," she said with a laugh. "Methinks he could turn a somersault if he wist."
"Aye. Us'll somersault him."
Gisel joined in the joke. "Keep your feet on the ground, Meister dancing bear. I'll have you dance with me." A soldier tried to grab and kiss her but she slipped from his grasp and swung out the door with the empty ale flagon.
"That's a sprightly bitch," one of the soldiers said with a knowing laugh. "I'll bet she'll do a turn."
"Aye. She'll do us many."
Yohan tried his bonds but couldn't move his hands or feet at all. Through his pain he tried to understand her intention. She had pushed the chair deliberately - why?
While the soldiers drank their ale, one of them picked up the two rapiers again. "Why don't Sergeant let us take these?"
"Cause Zagdorf'll expect to see 'em. If we're lucky he'll let us sell 'em after."
All of them turned to stare at the man who'd pronounced the name. He looked at Yohan sheepishly.
One of the others guffawed. "How much is they swords worth?"
"A barrel of ale and a bevy o' bitches - that's for sure."
The door swung open and Gisel came in carrying a huge tureen before her. "Mind yer heads an' arses. This thing's boiling hot."
She set it down in the middle of the table. "Gather 'round. I'll say a prayer and then serve you all a helping."
The two soldiers who were standing over Yohan seated themselves at the table.
Gisel stood in the midst, raised her hands and spoke in Scholar's Greek. "For Flame's sake not...sit looking at this pot! When I bend o'er...throw chair on floor. - Amen!"
She dropped into a crouch and dived beneath the heavy table. Yohan threw his weight to one side and tipped over with the chair on top of him. A muffled explosion blew the tureen to bits.
The soldiers fell back screaming. Two shots from Gisel's automatic pistol rang out. Then she was beside him, slashing through his bonds with her knife.
"Get up - we've no time to lose!"
He heaved himself upright to see her club the reeling corporal behind the ear with her pistol and wrench the assault rifle from his grasp. The others staggered about the room or writhed on the floor - their faces masked with blood and soup.
"I can't see!" one screamed, clawing at his face.
"Oh Holy Flame! I'm blind!"
The huge tureen had disappeared. The table looked as if a whirlwind had hit it. "Lunch is over," Gisel snapped, kicking at a man on the floor who was grasping blindly for her legs. "Meister, grab both packs and follow me. Our horses are in the lane out back."
She threw the sashes of both their rapiers over her shoulders and burst out into the corridor, the assault rifle at the ready before her. Yohan hurried after, forcing away the pain that tried to pull him down to a shambling limp. She led through a maze of twisting passages in the rear of the inn. The innkeeper's daughter in a long white shift appeared in a doorway.
"Here, Beth," Gisel said. "Here's twenty gold Ducats for the room and your trouble. If there's more damage than that, make a claim on Iskander."
Beth stared at the battered Yohan as he pushed past. "That's right," he muttered through his split lips. "I'll see you're paid for your service."
"If the sergeant asks where we went," Gisel called back over her shoulder, "tell him we took the Brehafen road."
They found the outside door and rushed out into the lane. Yohan heard Beth slam and bar the door behind them as Gisel untied the reins of her mount. She pulled the wig of long hair from her head and stuffed it into an open saddlebag, slashed two slits down the sides of her dress to loosen it, and vaulted into the saddle. "Pass me my pack," she said as she handed his rapier down to him.
Yohan did so and then heaved his across his saddle bow. He slung the sash of his weapon over his shoulder and spoke painfully. "Where did you get the bomb?"
Gisel grinned. "I carry plastic explosive and remote control detonators - in case I wind up in a hostelry with undrinkable soup."
Yohan would have laughed if his face and sides hurt less. He didn't recognize the mysteries she named but had a good idea what she meant. He strained to clamber into the saddle - she reached a hand to help him.
"Can you ride?"
"I'll manage."
"Sorry about the beating," she said, as she led away down the alley. "Thought I was doing you a favor - letting you sleep in while I got our horses loaded."
"I didn't know if you were caught," he muttered as they came to a branching of the ways.
"It was a close thing. Let's take this lane. We'll follow the back ways through the village 'til we reach the track we came in on last night. Can you stand to gallop?"
A league south of the city of Novrehan, upstream along the river the local people called the Greatflood - and the people of Lubitz lower down claimed as the Lubitz River - was sited a small castle - really a fortified chateau. The tall living quarters were surmounted by guard towers and the modest courtyard surrounded by a curtain wall fixed between three more crenelated towers and a fortified gatehouse. Directly below the walls lay the black outcrops of the riverbank, and the river itself, fully two hundred yards across as it approached the soot-blackened city whose spires and domes fringed the northern prospect. All these defenses were old and obsolete - none of the stonework could last against the battering of today's culverins for more than a few days assault. For this reason the Trigons called their Novrehan base the "Monastery of the Mithrian Grail" and took care to conceal the fact it served as the Empire's northeastern outpost, spying on the independent nations around the Inland Sea.
Commandante Zagdorf paced the battlements above the gatehouse of this base, repeatedly pounding a fist into his palm. "How could those Iskanders fool Sergeant Hrutich? Not only did they escape with Felger, but now the wretch knows my part in this!"
The Guard Captain from the Lingdon Embassy stood as many paces distant as decorum allowed. He took a deep breath. "Do you want Felger killed?"
Zagdorf stopped pacing. Seth's Blood! He'd hoped to pretend to rescue the troublemaker - ingratiating himself with the father. Instead, it might be necessary to kill him before he reached Lubitz. "I'd rather they were captured - all of them. I shall send you to see that it's done."
"Yes, Commandante."
"It's evident Felger has that fellow called Marc as his escort, but Flame only knows where that little bitch sprang from. She must not succeed again."
"You sent men ahead to the Lubitz road, Sir?"
"Yes. I'll send you after them to ensure a proper ambush is set - concealed and at a place the Iskanders cannot avoid. You know how - I can't trust anyone else." He turned on his heel to lean on the battlements.
The chateau-like fortified mansion had been the smaller of two castles owned by the prince who ruled this city state some fifty years before. The Trigons had found it necessary to have him thrown from these very battlements. Zagdorf stared at the outcrop below, at the dark shelf of rock sloping down into the river. Any more failures and the Emperor might have him thrown from here as well - he never forgave. Zagdorf pounded his fists against the stonework - mistakes were hard to bear, especially when they were his own.
How had that little bitch outwitted his best sergeant? It almost made a man believe in witchcraft. His tactics had worked initially - sending one party a day behind the first. Even clever quarry could be fooled into believing they were safe after the first search went past. But such a search pattern took a lot of men. In addition to his own troopers, and the cavalry he'd placed under his command at Brehafen, he'd taken a half-squadron from one of the columns en route to Makberg.
He stood upright and turned back to the Guard Captain. "Go back to your men and get ready to leave. Tell the quartermaster to provision your force for another week. I'll have you take a courier with you - the general at Makberg must be informed about the Iskander spies. They could pass on information about his army columns to their commanders."
When he was alone, he walked across the allure to the interior side of the battlements and looked down into the courtyard below. Any moment his orderly would appear with the latest message from the Emperor. He glanced up at the web of radio telegraph wires strung above his head, far simpler equipment than the Trigons had brought to Gaia two hundred years before. The primitive telegraph and bank of electrolytic cells to power it was the best they could manage to replace the starship's worn out communications. This base was used to relay all the regional Imperial communications to the Trigon headquarters.
The Novrehan station commander was feverishly engaged in preparing a technical convoy to travel to Makberg. The Emperor had decided that the new war was sufficiently important to risk Trigon secrecy. The commander had been ordered to set up a smaller wireless telegraph near the army in the field. Hard to find enough priest-operators and equipment to constitute it, and even then the station here would need to relay the new facility's weaker messages to the Forbidden Island, the Trigon headquarters.
Since they had just arrived by the starship that scholar had seen four years ago, the Iskanders must enjoy a far more advanced communications network themselves. Soon they would chance upon the Trigons' signals - if they had not already done so. Perhaps telegraph signals coded in the Trigon language would be too difficult for the Iskanders to crack. Disaster enough for the Iskanders to learn that other star travelers had preceded them here - without them being able to read their messages. The Empire needed time for its new leap forward in innovation to produce weapons that could equal theirs.
The Trigon hierarchy had been too slow in their response to the arrival of the Iskanders - taken too long to act upon the information his own spies had gained in the Iskander ironworks in Tarnland. Part of the reason would be jealousy - men above him were determined to prevent his success from threatening their sinecures. Now the Emperor's artisans and savants were feverishly working on new weapons and technology to catch up. It seemed no more than another futile attempt to outflank him. His own plan - to capture Iskander personnel and force them to arm the Empire - was far better. Thus far, his rivals' influence had not been sufficient to have the Emperor countermand his efforts, but they obviously planned to take advantage of his difficulties.
The key man to catch was the top Iskander who had set up the factory complex in Tarnland. His name was Henrik Matah. His daughter was the warrior wench known to the soldiers as the Wildcat, who'd betrayed the Lubitz stronghold of Skrona to the Iskander army. The wench he was dealing with had given the name Gisel Matah in the Felger mansion. The same? If he could capture her she would have all the information he needed. More importantly, she would be the pawn to gain power over her father. Her actions proved her a cunning adversary, but he had beaten cunning adversaries before.
A footfall behind him had to be his orderly. Zagdorf turned. "What message?"
The orderly saluted, right fist to temple. "Bearing the Emperor's personal cipher, Commandante. Will you come to the wireless gallery to receive it?"
Zagdorf nodded and followed the orderly to the stairwell inside the gatehouse, descending the spiral steps two at a time and crossing the courtyard to the keep. The robed technician rose as Zagdorf entered the upper level gallery, the deciphered message in his hand. "This is yours, Commandante. May the Holy Flame protect and enlighten the Imperial Light who sends it."
Zagdorf genuflected quickly; the Trigon formalities seeming a quaint holdover of times long past. He'd been a soldier too long to believe the flummery, but the warrior-monk facade served as an added level of security for their hold upon the Empire. The Emperor's dynastic claim upon the throne had never been a strong one.
"I thank you for your devout service, Brother," Zagdorf said as he took the message sheet. He dismissed his orderly and walked out onto the balcony of the residential wing to read the Emperor's reply. The stilted words of the inflexible telegraph code needed careful scrutiny to gain the tenor of his monarch's words.
"It seemed unlikely to find in you this failure, but I trust your future efforts will be wiser."
Zagdorf grimaced. As censure went, it could have been much worse.
"All intelligence here agrees with your identification of this woman. Capture is imperative. Nevertheless, I must order your search discontinued. Consider events in Lubitz of vital importance. Our underling in the city in urgent need of guidance. His low ability imperils success - you must take command. Search for Wildcat in the city. Feel sure you will locate her there."
Marc found a village boy to hold his horse and ran his eye over the chateau once more before swinging from the saddle. The troop of horsemen headed by the guard captain from the Lingdon embassy disappeared over the drawbridge and into the gate tower. "What's the name of that castle, boy?"
"Castle, yer honor? Means thee Monastery?" The boy looked up at him from pale grey eyes that crossed over a hooked and dripping nose. "Tis called th' Monastery o' Mithr'n Grail roun' these parts."
Marc pointed. "That place - where the horsemen went."
"Aye, sir. Tha's where I said. Some folk say it use't'be Prince's castle - but that were long ago."
Marc nodded as he reached into his money belt. A monastery? It didn't sound reasonable - those wires strung from the towers seemed like some sort of crude radio antenna...a troop of Imperial cavalry had ridden inside... What had he stumbled on?
He handed the boy a silver thaler. "Keep my horse safe until I return and I'll give you another. That wooded hill beside the monastery - does anyone live there?"
"That be monks' firewood copse, yer honor. My brothers'l be there somewheres with th' swine, but monks won't cut wood 'til winter's nigh agin."
"Good. You can curry the horse if you've a care to. Take him to the river to drink. Keep your mouth shut about my movements and there's an extra thaler for you." Marc took his ready-pack from behind the saddle and slung it from his shoulder. He set out down the village street toward a track he could see heading toward the wooded hill. It branched off the main trail which curved toward the river before climbing a slight grade to the monastery gatehouse. Marc picked up an unshaved wooden staff from beside the last fence in the village and rested it across his shoulder as he started up the track. He'd discarded the red and blue surcoat in the inn's slop pail when he'd rested up from his long ride, his brown riding habit would serve as good camouflage if anyone was watching from a distance.
Back at the city, he'd just started to check out the crowds and official buildings, and decide on a plan for his next move, when he'd seen the Imperial cavalry riding down the street. He'd run to the inn stables for his horse and followed them here. He still hadn't formed a plan, but spying on this place was an obvious necessity. He strode up the track to the edge of the trees, hoping any Trigons in the castle would think him a village laborer. When he reached the copse he ran uphill between the trees until he found a vantage point that overlooked the battlements.
First he glassed the wires strung across the courtyard - they had spreaders and insulators - definitely a short-wave radio antenna array. Probably a pretty crude system - it looked like pictures of early radios he'd seen in his college textbooks. But who knew enough in Gaia to build such a thing?
Next he scanned along the battlements. Two men stood talking beside the gate tower - he focused in on them. Shit! That was Zagdorf! The man with his back to him had to be the guard captain he'd followed from the city. That made sense - who else but the Empire was likely to have the knowledge and resources for this place? His eyes gleamed - this was a piece of information that could keep him from a court martial. He should leave the city and call Iskander Control on the satcomm as soon as possible.
He gave the rest of the building a cursory once-over, not seeing anything else of note.
Did he have the guts to get into the chateau? Gisel would, but she was a far better agent. He stared off into a blue haze above the distant city. First time he'd admitted that. He figured he was as good an organizer, but he didn't have her fire. None of the other Iskanders did. He knew she wasn't immune to fear; once, he'd seen her close to falling apart - but then that devil-may-care willpower had taken over. She was about as valuable as the information he'd learned - was he going to go off and desert her?
He probably couldn't go to Lubitz with them. Felger's papers only listed one bodyguard.
If he called up Iskander to tell them about the Trigon base, Colonel M'Tov would order him back to Lingdon - with a fire burning in his ass.
It was a stupid idea to catch up to Gisel on the road and hope she'd fall in love with him again. He absently put the binoculars away in his ready pack and stood up. He set out slowly down the hill, back toward the village. Gisel had wanted to break off the engagement - Lord Ricart had only been her excuse. It had been his fault, he'd driven her away. The romance had been a mistake - time to put her out of his mind and find someone new.
He reached the village before his thoughts cleared. When he heard the drumming of hoofbeats behind him he ducked into an alcove between two thatched cottages. The Imperial cavalry he'd seen earlier cantered past. The guard captain was at their head again. They'd just come here to report to Zagdorf, and he'd sent them out again. They were close enough he could reach out and touch their horses' flanks - close enough to hear their voices. The guard captain was shouting across to the noncom riding beside him. "We're to stake out the Lubitz highroad. The Commandante says you know this country from the last war - where should...?"
The rest was drowned out by the cantering hooves of the end riders in the column. Marc leaned out between the cottages to watch them go. Damn! They were still after Gisel. Best he get his shit together and follow them. He could call Iskander after he had some idea what they planned.
Marc followed the Imperial cavalry all day, keeping a kilometre or so behind where he could put his binoculars on them wherever he found a vantage point. He'd been briefed on this area about a year before and strained to remember the details. The border between Novrehan's and Lubitz's territory was somewhere ahead of them. He watched the cavalry cross the river by a ford, the water deep enough that the horses were in to their bellies. Some men had stayed on the far bank, drying out their equipment, so he'd turned aside to follow another track to the river. There'd been no sign of the road leading from the Moonwald at all. The sun was setting when he passed close to a small village on a higher terrace, and found a boatman working on a small scow drawn up on the river bank.
He drew rein beside the man and leaned forward in the saddle. "Is this the ford?"
The man looked up, his eyes wary of the cavalry carbine at Marc's saddle, even if he could not know what it was. "No ford here, yer honor. This be a deep water crossin'."
"How deep?" Marc asked, letting his mount descend the bank to drink.
"If ye cares to wait, I could take ye across in scow - but yer horse must swim."
"I'll take the other crossing. Which way is the road from the Moonwald?"
The man put down his tools and stood. "You means at Blackrock Ford? You don't want that way."
"No. I don't intend to go into the Moonwald." Not if he could help it. If he waited at the river ford, he would see Gisel before she reached the frontier - before she ran into Zagdorf's men. He was not certain she'd come this way, but a direct road from the Moonwald would take her into the fighting. When she left him at the Lingdon docks, she'd said they'd stay away from the armies. But which would be his best way to the coast afterwards, to catch a boat back to Lingdon? Gisel obviously wouldn't want him to come with her.
"Be going to Lubitz?"
How much to tell this stranger? "I'm looking for two friends on the road. I seem to have missed them."
"There 'a bin fighting on the road south. The frontier post is attacked."
Marc couldn't hide his quickening interest. "Are you sure?"
"Burned two days ago. Some says they Iskanders haves wings."
"Never the Iskanders. They're in Tarnland." It wouldn't do him any harm to demonstrate an ignorance of Iskander. But had their cavalry patrols reached this far from Leki already? Perhaps his best bet to return would be to link up with one.
"There you be wrong. This scow here did belong of the Lubitz border post. I be patchin' bullet holes here, aint I."
"Really?" Marc swung off the horse.
The man pointed out one on the gunwale. "Look there. Clean as a whistle. I never seen such a hole through planking."
Marc followed the man's finger. The clean hole had been drilled by an Iskander rifle, not a slower moving musket ball. "What are you doing with the boat?"
The man turned his head and spat into the water. "Well now, who be asking?"
Marc smiled. "I'm not a toll keeper or a Lubitz constable. I'm a traveler on the road who thinks it wise to learn from those who know more than he."
"How much would it be worth?"
"Three silver thalers. What's afoot on the Lubitz side of the border - seems you've been there recently."
The man reached out to take the coins before speaking. "As far as border post."
"And that would be...?"
"An hour downriver on the current. Three back."
Marc nodded and looked at the man expectantly.
"The whole country be in uproar - from the Iskanders, see. All be stowin' their family an' valuables in carts an' wagons to go to the city. Some be takin' boats."
"The city is safe?"
"As much as may be, I'm told. Its walls can stand any siege."
"And this boat?"
"I figured to sail downriver and sell it. Border guards won't need it no more."
"Dead?"
"All save two I fetched up here to the village. They be like to live."
"So the boat is your payment? Don't set out before you see me again. If I have need of it, I'll pay you well."
After their escape from the inn, Gisel and Yohan hid out during daylight and traveled in the dark. At about five in the morning of their second night's journey they camped a short distance off the northbound track at the top of a hill. Yohan was recovering from his beating, although he sported a huge black eye and split lips. Gisel had given him what first aid she could, but letting him sleep all day, while they hid from pursuit, had been his best treatment. At first, he'd balked about riding at night but soon saw that her night goggles gave them a tremendous advantage over any pursuers, and their mounts proved sure-footed if they held the speed down to a modest trot.
Gisel was feeling better about him than at any time since the Felger contact had begun - she had little doubt that the past two days had been hell for him, but he'd plugged along without complaint. After setting camp until first light, he offered to go down into the hollow below to curry the horses and check they were properly concealed. He wanted to repay her for all the care she'd been giving him.
She'd used the past two days of sunlight to recharge the satcom battery pack, so decided to call Iskander Control. Could be a message waiting - maybe from Marc? The operator on duty hardly gave her time to identify herself before he cut in. "Stand by, Lieutenant Matah, President Scopes wants to talk to you."
She waited for several minutes, listening to the faint static noise blipping through the squelch, before the President came on. "Is this conversation secure, Lieutenant?"
She glanced around the campsite. Yohan was still down in the hollow with the horses. "Yes, Sir. I'm alone."
"Our cavalry patrols probing toward Lubitz picked up several deserters."
"Yes?" This didn't sound like a big secret.
"Under interrogation they revealed great confusion and dissension in the city. No definite factions yet, as far as we know. No violent clashes, but the probability of a complete breakdown of public order is possible."
"You expect fighting?" What did this have to do with her? She had a growing suspicion, but didn't want to give it voice.
"We need a window on the city. I want to change the parameters of your mission."
Yep - she was right.
"You are ordered to remain in the city after you deliver young Felger to the Misikers. Do not contact the fleet to be taken off - you will be staying for several days. I have ordered Admiral Norris to give you as much support as he can - Stellar will be offshore very soon."
She stared at the handset in silence. Slight change of plan, Lieutenant - take a few days leave in the enemy capital. Sit on the beach and read a novel...shit! Don't worry, they only shoot spies.
"Are you still there, Lieutenant?"
"Yeah - I'm thinking."
"We need that information. I wouldn't ask -"
"No, sir, I'm sure you wouldn't."
"If we can conduct our operations in a way to compound their confusion - even start a civil war.... I needn't tell you how much it will contribute to our success."
"What about doing a Leki?"
"A what? What do you mean?"
"What if the people wanting out are strong enough to sue for an armistice? Can we do a deal to swing them to our side?"
"Very imaginative, Lieutenant. But that's a real long shot."
"It would fit better with the mission I'm on. The Felgers won't think much of us if I subvert their business contact into a stab in the back for their friends." Iskander was in it to help people here free themselves from ignorance and foreign rule, not build an Iskander empire. Daren't say that to Scopes, though.
"Hmm. You have a point."
"We have a pretty cunning psych department. They could try some propaganda while I hide in the city. I'd have a chance to see how it goes over."
"If you think so. It could mean your staying longer than I envisaged, but you can be the judge of that when you get there."
Oh sure, Gisel. Open your big mouth and make it even more dangerous. "Thank you, Sir. I think I should have a lot more discretion than in my original orders."
"If you can increase the value and information gathering of your operation, I'll authorize anything you need."
"Right, Sir - I'll let you know when I need something."
"I'll tell the Admiral to afford you as much priority as a scout frigate. You may communicate directly with the fleet - in fact it may be better for you to link through Stellar."
"Aye aye, Sir."
"One other thing - I'm afraid this is a disciplinary matter. Is Lieutenant Chronon in communication with you?"
"No, Sir. I had a poor connection when I called before, but did I understand that he's following me?"
"We believe so. He has ignored his orders to report to the shipyard. That's a Court Martial offence. If you meet him...tell him that speedy compliance will lessen the severity of his punishment."
"I've a better idea, Mr. President. If he's here on the road to Lubitz, why not assign him to my operation - under my command. I may need more backup for this change you've given me."
The receiver sat silent a minute before Scopes came back. "Are you manipulating me, Lieutenant? You and he were...well, there was talk of marriage."
"That's over, Sir. A year ago. I'm not trying to pull your chain - if he's around, I may well need him. There are Empire soldiers all around us. They caught Felger the other morning. I've only just got him fit enough to continue our journey."
"But your loyalty is touching, Lieutenant. I hope your request does not prove to be a mistake."
Me, too. "But you grant it, Sir? Drop the disciplinary action - for now, at least."
"Very well. Keep in better communication than you have. I want a daily report."
"I'll call whenever it's safe, Mr President." And when I have time, she muttered. "I have to sign off now, Sir. I hear Meister Felger coming back."
After one more night's journey Gisel and Yohan camped a short distance off their route in the center of a clump of willows. They were half a day from the major river flowing out of the Moonwald past Makberg, and would need to make for a known ferry. The village at this crossing was called Abersholm. It marked the frontier of the Lubitz hinterland and lay just outside the northern outskirts of the Moonwald.
"We'll sleep for a few hours," Gisel said. "Slowly get ourselves back into a daylight routine."
Yohan looked up from the flint and tinder he was putting to the sticks he'd collected. "How much of that Iskander stew do you have left?"
"K-rations? Very little. We'll have to eat biscuit this morning. A hot drink will do us good, though."
"I hope this village ahead has a good inn. If we get there by evening we could stay the night. I think I could eat a whole beef."
She regarded him doubtfully. "I'll buy you a good meal in Lubitz. You know what happened last time."
"We can't have bad luck forever." He gave a twisted smile. "My Felger letters of authority will serve us well in the Lubitz federation."
"Don't forget it's wartime," Gisel said. "That tends to spoil the supply of civilized amenities."
Near mid-day they saddled up and continued on their way. They rode slowly, keeping a good lookout as they discussed their plans. Having taken three days to cover what would take less than two in daylight, Gisel felt sure the pursuit was long past them but stopped at every high point to glass the route ahead.
"Once we're over the river we'll take the north road to Lubitz," she said. "It'll mean another ferry outside the city - and I'd hate for Zagdorf to find us sitting ducks - but he's likely still looking for us in the south."
"If he knows we want to find the Baron, he knows where we're going. Wouldn't he send troopers ahead to wait for us?"
Gisel shrugged. "That's what I'd do in his place, but let's cross one hurdle at a time."
"You don't think he'll have set men to watch here do you?"
"I doubt he has enough to split his force any further. Take the assault rifle if it'll make you feel better - just keep it on three round bursts."
A three hour ride revealed a bend in the track and the village of Abersholm ahead of them. Lying on the Makberg river just above the lowest floodplain, it was a prosperous place, protected from the Moonwald outlaws by the patrols of Lubitz's army. Its fields on the lower ground were filled with peasants working their plots, and in the lush green grass of the water meadows they saw herds of fat cattle.
They rode down a well tended street between neatly whitewashed cottages. A small group of children stopped their play in an empty sheepcote to stare at them as they rode by. Several mothers hurried out from the cottages to whisk their offspring away.
"Looks as if they're expecting unfriendly visitors," Gisel said.
"If there's a guard post in the village, I'll go speak with them."
"Is there an inn?" Gisel called out to one of the mothers who was hurrying her mud-begrimed children across the street.
"Aye lord, there is," the woman replied, pausing for only the briefest moment. "Down far end of village - on't road to ferry."
Gisel scanned carefully about as they rode on. She tried to stifle a nervous feeling. This was, after all, an enemy nation to her. It had been many months since last she'd been on hostile territory.
The inn was long and low with many small bottleglass windows. As they'd been told, it lay beside a gravel-surfaced road that led across the water meadows to the river - visible in the mid distance as a low line of willows and an occasional clump of spreading elms. The forecourt was partly cobbled, with the outer portion packed with more river gravel. An empty cart rested on its shafts in front of the doorway and on the village side stood the gate to a paddock for post-horses, surrounded by a dense thorn hedge.
Gisel dismounted and looked about for a lad to take her mount. There was no movement for several minutes, then a head appeared over the thorn hedge. Then several more.
A squad of musketeers revealed themselves, flintlocks at the ready. At their head was a sergeant carrying a halberd. "What's your business, gentlemen? This village is under military rule."
"We're travelers from Lingdon," Yohan answered, remaining in the saddle. "Is this not the road to Lubitz?"
"Aye it is," the sergeant said gruffly, coming forward. "But none may take it without the General's permission."
"Where is this general?" Gisel said. "Let us speak with him."
"He'll not be here 'til nightfall. You'll have to wait under our guard until he comes -"
"Or captain gets back," one of the musketeers said.
"If you'm unlucky," another of the soldiers added.
Yohan stared down at them. He seemed dismayed at not receiving a better welcome, so Gisel smiled and stretched her muscles, stiffened from the ride. "We'd intended staying the night at the inn. Is that permitted?"
"I 'spose so," the sergeant said. "We're in need of billets for the rest of the company tonight. But we'd not spoil the innkeeper's trade."
Yohan pulled a foot from the stirrup to dismount. "I have letters here which will establish our legitimacy. I'm sure you'll find we're above suspicion."
"If I could read," the sergeant said. "We canna be too careful - these damned Iskander cavalry are like flies about a bloated carcase. We're sent even to the remotest parts to watch against them."
"Surely the Felger name is known to you," Yohan said, alighting carefully onto the cobbles. "We're partners in the Misiker Bank in Lubitz - I'm betrothed to Gerd Misiker's daughter."
The sergeant shrugged. "Well then, Meister, you've nought to fear from us. But what of this other fellow - he looks like a storm-crow - vouch you for him?"
"He's Galen Brough, my escort on these dangerous roads."
The musketeers put up their weapons and the sergeant ported his halberd to walk with them to the entrance of the inn. "By the looks o' your face he'm less of a bodyguard than appearance suggests - but then you've rode out of the Moonwald. You picked the worst road to follow."
Gisel gave a wry grimace at the sergeant's observation. "I did my best for him," she said, "but he's a devil for getting into a fight he cannot handle."
"Well, best take care not to pick a fight when the rest gets here. Once you sees the kind o' ruffians Lubitz has under arms these days you'll see how well she fares. Our best men is still across the water in Kronobetz."
"What of our horses?" Yohan asked, turning around at the threshold. "We have baggage as well -"
"I shall place a guard on them," the sergeant said. "One of my city militiamen - not this freebooter gang o' the captain's."
The interior of the inn was dark with old oak paneling and divided into many small rooms. Like a stable. Probably the inn had been converted from a building with a different purpose years before. The only constant in the rooms the sergeant led them through was a timbered counter stretching along one wall and low ceiling beams hung with bright polished tankards. The place seemed deserted until a middle-aged woman came out of a side door, her grey hair long and tangled, and her shift much patched and worn.
"Two more of yer soldiers?" She scowled at the sergeant. "Tis an inn we has here, not an army barracks."
"Not soldiers. These two is to stay the night or until the General decides their fate."
She looked Gisel up and down. "If you stays the night 'tis a Thaler for a room, an' dinner's the same."
"As you hear," Yohan said, "we've been ordered to remain in the village. A dinner will be more than welcome - we've eaten nought but at a campfire these days past."
The woman sniffed. "I shall see three Thalers first."
"I'm not sure we'll need your rooms."
"I'll do nothing for you without money in advance - these ruffians will likely rob you as well as all the village."
The sergeant set the butt of his halberd down. "Don't spread such fear woman. Ye must know these city men of mine have paid their own armament and subsistence for the campaign. The General will see all is done proper when he comes."
"So you says, but I've despaired to ever set eyes upon him."
"What's the problem?" Yohan asked.
The sergeant looked away. "There's none that I may speak of. Blame the Autarch of Tarnland for his successes - in days my father tells of, Lubitz was known throughout Mainland for its honor and good government."
"Then let us hope the Margrave and Meisters of the city will soon end this war," the woman cried, leading Gisel and Yohan to one of the small rooms and wiping the wooden table briefly with a rag. "All folks cries out for peace. Damn the Whones - let they fight to hold Tarnland on their own."
When the sergeant and the woman left them, Gisel leaned down to peer out the window before sitting. She rubbed at one pane of the green bottle glass with her sleeve and was able to make out a view of the road toward the ferry. It was empty except for a musketeer at the end of the forecourt marching back and forth on sentry-go.
"I hope affairs are in a happier state in Lubitz," Yohan said. "The action at Leki should be no more than rumor there."
Gisel half turned toward him. "That's not the way Iskander operates. The whole purpose of cavalry is to cause confusion and damage in the rear of an enemy army. We want Lubitz to expect an attack on the city, to keep them guessing while we prepare Leki's defenses."
The woman returned and Yohan said nothing more on military topics. She set two platters and tankards of ale, and waited with a ladle in a steaming pot while a small girl of twelve or thirteen entered with cold pies on a tray.
"Set them pies down quick, Gretzel girl. These gen'lmen han't all day." She took up the platters with the pies and ladled out a helping of boiling vegetables and dumplings onto each.
"When did the soldiers arrive, mistress?" Gisel asked as she took her platter from the woman's hands.
"Just about noon, Meister. No sooner were one gang o' rascals away than we gets another."
"You had another gang of rascals?" Gisel prompted, as the woman stood in the doorway wiping her hands on the same rag she'd used on the table.
"Indeed, Meister. They was likely Empire cavalry by the way they tormented the Common Tongue."
"Did the leader have a scar on his left cheek - an eye missing?"
"Aye, he did. But it were an old mark - several more had faces bandaged or cut. Likely only a day or two old."
Yohan gave Gisel a big grin. "Did they say which way they were going?"
"Acrost the ferry an' south, it seem so. Some feller was likely awaitin' on them nigh the south road to Lubitz."
Gisel and Yohan ate their dinner and called for their ale tankards to be refilled. The child Gretzel came in with a pitcher of ale and held the tankards up as she poured.
Gisel saw a wariness in the girl's movements, like a frightened deer. "Do you always serve table, Gretzel?"
"Aye, Meister. Mother must needs the help."
"Where's your father?"
The girl's eyes strayed away, but she didn't answer. Likely he was drunk.
"These soldiers don't tease you, do they?"
Gretzel blushed and made to leave. Yohan reached out to take the girl's arm, but she instantly jumped back. "None would trouble a child, would they?"
"Where have you been all your life, Meister?" Gisel said. "What do you think happens to girls without a strong family to take care of them?"
Gretzel stood at the doorway, ready for immediate flight.
Gisel stretched a hand toward her. "While I'm here at the inn, you may come to me for help. Understand?"
She nodded her head rapidly, gave them both a shy smile, and darted away. From outside came the sound of horses on the road. Gisel got up from the table and went to the window pane she'd cleaned.
"A dozen horsemen," she said, peering out. "Likely the captain that was spoken of. I'd guess he's been setting a guard on the ferry."
"What's he look like?"
"A scurvy fellow with a scurvy company. Call them mercenaries if you will but I'd name them freebooters. If this gang isn't under arms for the loot I'll be surprised. The only opponents likely to feel their sword's edge are civilians. I hope this general gets here soon."
Within a few minutes Gisel heard loud voices in the entryway of the inn. Curses and shouted orders, with a lower toned reply. Many loud footfalls came closer. The captain, when he appeared, was short and weasel faced, wearing the front half of an iron cuirass bearing a pattern of ancient rust. He stopped short just inside the entry to their room and placed a hand on the hilt of his rapier.
"What are your names? If you're spies, I'll hang you this very afternoon."
Three more rough fellows in leather jerkins and an assortment of arms crowded in behind him. One wearing a pot-helmet that threatened to slide down over his eyes grasped the hilt of a dagger in his belt. "Fine peacocks we've caught here. What say they'll be worth a ransom?"
"I am Yohan Felger on business for the bank, and this is my bodyguard Galen Brough." He held out his official letters.
The captain sized them up before coming further into the room. His eye fell on their rapiers. "Where's that damned sergeant?" he bellowed over his shoulder. "Why are these prisoners not disarmed?"
"We're no man's prisoners," Gisel told him in a quiet voice. She hooked a finger in the shoulder of her doublet near the butt of her automatic pistol. Yohan's hand crept toward the assault rifle concealed behind the table leg.
The captain's eyes narrowed and he backed off. "I've a company of soldiers at my back. Have a mind that I'm the law around here."
"Please read my letters," Yohan said. "You will see we are friends of Lubitz."
The captain took a pace forward, snatched them from his hand and studied the pages. "This Galen Brough is described as a soldier," he said after flipping the pages for some minutes. "He looks too much a boy."
Gisel raised an eyebrow. "I'll warrant I've heard more cannon fire than you - and from the front, too."
The captain's face blazed with fury. He slapped his hand on the basket hilt of his sword and glared into her face.
She glared back.
One of the captain's companions, the crony with the pot-helmet, stepped between them. "What is we to do with these'ns? They'd best be interrogated afore the general gets here."
The captain accepted the interruption, raising the letters in his hand. "A piece of parchment vouches little. If you're a banker you should be carrying a deal of coin."
"I have enough for expenses."
The captain's small dark eyes darted from Gisel's sword hand to Yohan's face. "The army needs money for subsistence. A tax on travelers. A Felger should be good for fifty Ducats, and his skivvy twenty more."
"Go to hell!" Gisel turned to Yohan. "This is nothing but a shakedown."
Yohan put out a hand to Gisel's arm. "I don't begrudge money for the defense of Lubitz. Would a hundred Thalers do?"
The captain's companions looked away to hide their smiles. His small dark eyes shone at the prospect. He took the coins greedily and placed them in a pouch he wore on his weapon belt. "Where are you bound?"
"We wish to go to Lubitz," Yohan said. "I have to visit the banker, Gerd Misiker. He'll be pleased to hear I've been under the protection of Lubitz's fine soldiers for this part of my journey."
"Misiker," one of the soldiers echoed. "Be he the Margrave?"
The crony snorted. "That's Magnus Garriker, fool!"
The captain pursed his lips. "Misikers are one of the leading families. Likely they'd have use for the services of bold fellows after this war is done. Think thee not?"
"I'm sure a place in Lubitz could be found for you," Gisel said. She was about to offer one or two they wouldn't like when Yohan cut her off.
"I'd be very glad to tell all the leading families of the service you've done me here. This general now - will it be possible to persuade him we're friends."
"There's no persuading that general anything," the crony replied. "He've a powerful temper to meet his own mind."
"His opinions are like laws," the captain said. "Tell me of your journey and I'll do my best to give him good word on it."
"I cannot impart bank business," Yohan said. "Suffice to say that Lubitz needs money to pay for the war and it's no longer possible to send coin in a well protected ship."
The captain's eyes gleamed. "An escort of soldiers would be needed through the Moonwald."
Yohan nodded. "If such a convoy were contemplated."
"Likely we could mount guard for you."
Yohan shrugged. "We've only just begun to assess this route - after speaking to Gerd Misiker we may have other roads to travel."
Gisel left the talking to Yohan. She and the captain had taken an instant mutual dislike to one another. His men would rather fight for themselves than Lubitz - and then only if their targets were weak and nearly helpless. Their loyalty to the captain would last as long as he found them easy pickings. You bet they'd jump at a chance to escort a convoy of money.
"What about accommodations in the inn?" Yohan asked after fielding several more questions. "We're anxious to speak with your general - get his permission to travel the Lubitz road. We must set out in the morning."
"You may take a room," the captain answered. "These knaves of mine are better stabled in the outbuildings. I mean to keep a good watch out this night."
"The only force we've heard of in the area is the Empire cavalry which crossed the river today," Yohan said.
"Aye. They claimed to be allies by all account. Likely the general will send a patrol after to ask their purpose." He fixed his eyes on Yohan's face. "But what encounter did you enjoy?"
"Some ruffians." Yohan raised a hand dismissively. "It was an unequal fight until my bodyguard arrived."
The captain sneered toward Gisel. "This lad don't look able to fend for himself. Leave alone lend help to another. You should enlist him here with me and I'll let you have a brace of bigger fellows."
Gisel bit her tongue to keep from replying. If he were anything but a captain in Lubitz's service he would already have the fight he was trying to pick. But it wouldn't do to arrive in the city with a dueling charge against her.
Yohan answered. "Don't underestimate my companion. Many who've done so are no longer among the living."
The captain gave a snort of laughter but ceased his attempts to provoke her. He stroked the basket hilt of his rapier and placed a hand to adjust the short cuirass he wore. It fitted him so loosely it was likely looted from a battlefield.
The captain raised his nose as if some smell had assailed it. "I care nought for your warning but have too great a thirst to quench to waste my time further. It's been a long day on the road and I mean to have some comfort to make amends. If you want to leave the inn or visit the stables you will first ask my permission. I shall be with my trusted men in the large parlor beyond."
"Very well. I'll give word for our horses to be stabled and our belongings brought inside."
When the soldiers were out of earshot Yohan sat back with a sigh. "I understand your disguise requires a bold manner, but do you have to enter into it with such relish? I was beginning to think you wanted to cross swords with him - don't forget he has a steel cuirass."
"He's just a bully," Gisel answered. "I can face him down."
"I should prefer to see him stretched out on the ground too, but we must not anger the Lubitz authorities. Just think - what kind of fellow is he? As if the Bank would entrust even a purse of groats to the care of his troopers!"
"It's wartime," Gisel said with a shrug. "If the bank has money to move it'll likely need Iskander's transportation."
"I see you are right. I shall be your earnest advocate when I meet the Baron, but what more does Iskander expect to get out of it?"
Gisel smiled and shook her head. It wasn't time to let him in on the task President Scopes had given her - if it should ever come to that. "Isn't this demonstration enough? You'll never find a more valuable ally than us. Or a more valuable customer - our bullion must buy us a great deal of scarce material to defend Iskander against the Empire."
The evening wore on without more trouble, and in parties of two and three the village's garrison came in for their evening meal. Gisel counted fifteen musketeers from Lubitz's Militia, the captain had about twenty in his freebooter band. Their faces showed tension - as if they expected Iskander's cavalry might attack at any moment. She was the only one able to relax on that account - the radio traffic said they'd been pulled back 24 hours before. Iskander had turned to strike the Whone army advancing from the west. Only a few squadrons remained to watch over the Lubitz front.
Lubitz's military resistance was weakening, even if few of its people realized the fact. The city had lost its best soldiers in the past two years' campaigns and its most experienced army was stranded in Tarnland without adequate supplies of ammunition. With a naval blockade about Lubitz there was no way to send help or evacuate them. Iskander had no need to harm Lubitz further - just ease them out of the war before the Empire reinforced them.
If her mission succeeded she'd become an ally of Lubitz, but until then she'd be in the worst kind of danger. She'd have to reveal her identity to those who made the policies. It was impossible to rely on rumor or market gossip to find out who would listen to Iskander's offers.
Yohan's father had ordered him to find some advantage over Iskander. Perhaps, but he was becoming a friend. He still had the Baron to meet; if she stuck around in Lubitz perhaps she'd meet him too. But what if the Baron had already determined not to play this double game?
As night fell and the air grew cooler, Yohan suggested they move to a larger parlor where a fire burned in an open hearth. It was occupied by a lone local man - a laborer taking a mug of ale after working in the fields all day. Yohan took his seat on the settle before the fire and stretched out luxuriously. "I'll just warm my bones before checking our horses and the baggage in our room. It's my turn - you've taken care of everything these past three days."
Gisel didn't argue. She put a listening aid in her ear and tried to hear the soldiers in the adjacent parlor. The captain was holding court there - his men drinking great draughts of ale and the Militia musketeers entering singly to be subjected to questions and bullying. It seemed they'd only just been placed under the captain's command and he was trying to find out how many were corruptible. Very few, if the tone of the questioning could be judged.
A door down the corridor opened and more locals entered. Their voices, loud and jovial, lowered appreciably when they saw the soldiers. They came to the table with the first laborer and seated themselves, careful not to disturb the men-at-arms, as they obviously took Gisel and Yohan to be, who they saw dominating the fireside.
One of the soldiers came in from the next room and stared down at them. "Can you sing?"
"Aye, chief," one answered nervously. "What song would your honor like?"
The soldier dropped a small coin on the table before them. " The maid and the tinker have a good tune. D'ye know it?"
"Aye, lord. Right well, us do." They stared at the coin as if it might be a bomb with a sparking fuse.
"Have a swig of ale if your voices need it." He laughed, his eyes concentrated on Gisel and Yohan. "The biggest bank in Mainland is treating tonight."
The laborers shuffled to their feet. One of them stamped a beat on the floor with his boot and they began to give voice, a little quavery at first until the swelling sounds gave encouragement. Gisel took the listening aid from her ear again, her intention to learn something incriminating about the freebooters foiled by the singing. No matter - with luck, there was only one night to get through and they'd be on their way again.
Yohan pulled a face at the noise. Gisel smiled at him - she'd encouraged her marines to sing in the hours they waited to board the Empire's flagship in the action a year before. They'd sounded no better.
"I'll go to ensure our mounts are stabled properly," he said after two choruses.
He walked next door to ask the captain's permission to visit the stable. Gisel could make out no more than tones and voices. It was as well he'd volunteered - she doubted if she could have refrained from some provocative remark if she'd had to ask. The countrymen finished their song and sat down again, avoiding looking at one another.
Young Gretzel came in bearing ale and served brimming tankards from a flagon. She was hurrying away when the soldier who'd ordered the singing returned. "Come bring us fresh ale, too. And let's enjoy a wench's face - you must be th'only one in the whole village, for all we've seen."
He pushed her toward the other parlor and turned to the laborers. "Another song! By cracky - a man'd think ye were some prince's choir to take such pay for a single chorus."
When he left, Gisel took a deep breath to still the tingle in her nerves. What was about to happen was as certain as if the evening had been written out in a script. She fell back on the ancient warrior's technique she'd learned from Eastern teachings. She meditated on her breathing and the connection of all things. The most deadly Samurais were those who believed themselves already given to death, and poured their energy into their swords.
After several minutes, she stood and straightened the hang of her rapier. She walked deliberately to the corridor. Sensing trouble, the laborers faltered in their song.
In the other room one soldier had a hand across Gretzel's mouth while the captain ran a hand under her skirt. The girl's face twisted as she attempted to cry out.
"Let the child be," Gisel said, coming into the center of them.
The soldier holding Gretzel drew himself up. "Who are you, to order us?"
"Go away, you little lad," the captain breathed in a lizard whisper. "This is a man's business . . ."
Gretzel redoubled her attempt to struggle free. The soldier let out an angry cry and snatched back his bitten hand. Another, holding her arm, drew back his fist and cuffed her to the floor. The captain sprang to his feet. "You disturb our sport. Leave now or we'll squash you like a bug."
Gisel drew her rapier. "Get out of this inn! The stable is too good for vermin like you."
The captain drew his own weapon to cross swords. In the confined space he slashed one of his own men. "Let's take this fight to the forecourt - "
Gisel stepped back quickly. "Right away - but I'll follow you."
The inn emptied as word of a duel spread. Everyone, countrymen and soldiers, joined the column on its way to the open air. Gretzel raised herself and went sobbing to Gisel. "I'm sorry, sir - I did not mean - "
"Hush, child. Tis not your fault." She looked about for Yohan but he was likely still in the stables.
Outside, a rough square of spectators had already arrayed themselves. Lamps from the inn were held aloft to illuminate a piste. As Gisel emerged, the captain sprang forward with a confident attack. His freebooters shouted their encouragement.
Gisel parried the captain's lunge and began a sharp riposte. She was quicker and made a lightning thrust - but her steel glanced harmlessly off his cuirass.
The soldier's cries of warning to their champion turned to triumph. "Ye've got the bastard now!"
Encouraged, he made ground. Three times he thrust at her but her counter was swift and sure. He began a circular parry, trying to disarm her. She made a quick thrust but had to cede her attack as his defence closed the tiny opportunity.
The captain laughed savagely and advanced. Gisel gave way, raising the point of her attack to threaten his face and neck. The captain in his turn forced the fight downwards away from this point of vulnerability. They fought on, with parry, feint, and riposte.
After several minutes the captain's breath came heavily. The expression in his eyes told Gisel he'd realized he was up against an opponent of greater skill. Only his cuirass prevented instant disaster. When she forced him backwards with a compound attack, even his men realized which way the fight was going.
From the corner of her eye she caught a movement from the soldiers. The captain's crony darted forward. "Damn the young pup!"
A sudden sharp pain in her left forearm made her jump back to disengage. The man had slashed at her with his dagger. She dropped her arm to her side and felt the warm blood trickling into her open palm.
Another man advanced on her as the captain returned to the attack.
A sudden burst of gunfire stunned the group into immobility. "Damned scum!" came Yohan's voice. "The next shots will not be over your heads."
Gisel recovered instantly from her surprise. With a deep breath she plunged herself back into the warrior attitude. The captain flung a furious look and raised his point. Her arm was bleeding badly - how long before her strength began to fail? She pretended to stagger, letting her guard down.
The captain fell for her trick. He lunged forward at her breast. She ducked beneath his blade. In the same movement she lunged upwards.
Her target was small and fleeting. But her aim was sure. The point scraped beneath the bottom of the cuirass and plunged into his belly.
She hurled her weight forward behind her sword point. The captain's eyes bulged. A bubbling shriek escaped his lips. Her rapier came out the middle of his back.
As he crumpled and toppled to the ground, Gisel reversed her movement to yank her weapon free. Cries of dismay burst from the freebooter's throats as she raised the bloody sword and sprang toward them.
"Any more of you want to try?"
Yohan stepped quickly to her side, the assault rifle cradled in his arms. None of the freebooters dared move.
From outside the circle of spectators - beyond the forecourt of the inn - came a surprising answer. "Leave off! Lower your weapons at once."
Gisel swung about. Unnoticed in the shadows, a group of horsemen had arrived and sat astride their mounts. Their hands held pistols, levelled in the cavalryman's slant - pan tilted toward the touch-hole.
One of the riders urged his horse forward. He reined in the animal before them and dismounted. "What's the meaning of this?"
The sergeant stepped forward. "Tis no attack upon Lubitz, General. T'was an affair of honor."
Gretzel rushed forward with a cry and dropped to her knees at Gisel's feet. "This gentleman came to my aid, Lord. Do not punish him!"
The general glanced down at the bleeding corpse. "This is the company commander I appointed to defend this village. Am I to countermand my own authority?"
Gisel bent to wipe her blade on the dead man's sleeve. "Noble of you, Sir - to admit appointing this scoundrel -"
Yohan stepped forward hurriedly. "This captain was seeking only to rape and loot - to take advantage of Lubitz's commission, not serve it."
The general drew himself up and looked about him. "Sergeant! Return your musketeers to their duties and see to the defence of your post. You two come with me into the inn - I will investigate the justice of your actions."
The general led to the parlor with the fireplace and sat down before it. Three of the troopers followed with pistols drawn. Gisel's quick assessment of the man who would judge them showed him a gentleman of substance. His pleasant features and distinguished air proclaimed he'd been handsome and favored in his youth. His face was carefully shaved, no mean feat on campaign, and his grey eyes had the cast of those who stared far off to look for danger.
Gretzel came rushing in with water and rags to bind Gisel's arm, but she shooed her away. The general might recognize it as a woman's. She held the wound closed as the general dismissed his troopers from the room. "You have letters of authority, I'm told."
Yohan passed them over. "I'm Yohan Felger, Sir. From Lingdon - and this is my bodyguard, Galen Brough. We travel to Lubitz upon a duty for the bank."
The general studied the letters briefly and looked up into Yohan's face. "How long have the Felgers wielded Iskander weapons?"
Gisel hid a smile as Yohan pretended innocence. "Sir?"
"The strange gun you hide beneath your jacket. Does your bodyguard hold another? I want you to lay them on the table in plain sight."
Yohan slowly withdrew the assault rifle and laid it down. Gisel thought quickly, her eyes on the general's face - then she released her arm to draw her automatic and drop it beside the other.
The general smiled thinly. "It seems the name Galen Brough should be known to me, but it's not."
"How so, General?"
"A swordsman of your caliber should be known by reputation everywhere. It's many years since I've seen the equal."
Gisel regarded him warily. "The name is honorable enough. Perhaps not as much as your own - though I know it not."
The general regarded her a moment. "I am Lerris Garriker, commander of the Guard Brigade and younger brother of the Margrave. If you choose to use the name Brough, I'll not press you. But you must answer me one more thing before I'll put aside my thought that Iskander weapons never stray far from their own hands."
"I should be pleased to reassure you, Sir."
"Tell me why I should allow you to continue your journey."
"I go to Lubitz," Yohan explained hurriedly, "to speak to Gerd Misiker - "
The general raised a hand to cut him off. "I want to hear your companion's words."
Gisel decided to go for broke. "Both Lubitz and Iskander are republics in a world of monarchies. The Felger family prospers by its wits outside the courts of sovereigns. Perhaps it's time for them all to get on the same side."
"Smooth words," the general said with a grim smile. "If the Imperial cavalry had not ventured so far inside the Lubitz countryside, I'd not believe that one so young has come to proclaim them."
"Naturally not, General, but some young fool has to go first to determine if any wish to listen."
Yohan turned her. "Then the Bank's business is just a ruse?"
Gisel's heart sank at his thoughtless words, but she met Garriker's eyes defiantly. When she recognized more amusement than threat in them, she relaxed. "Not at all, the Bank's help is essential. But there's no changing the course of this Tarnland war now - it's only a matter of time before both Lubitz and the Whones are pushed beyond the traditional borders. If the Bank is offered a chance to exchange its losses for gain, why should Lubitz not be offered the same? Leki's defection was too good an opportunity to miss, but it's not the only city with its best young men stranded in Tarnland."
Garriker put a hand to his chin. "Why should the one who is winning seek accommodation?"
"I suspect you've fought wars enough, General, to know that victory and winning are often different things."
Lerris Garriker sighed darkly. "I left my Guard Brigade in Tarnland and returned to the city to organize a fleet to relieve or withdraw it. Nothing is possible in the present situation. I feel I have deserted them."
Gisel took a deep breath and plunged in. "We both know there is no military way to rescue them. Should Lubitz give an invitation for an envoy - "
"Enough," the general raised his hand. "I'm only a soldier - my brother is the politician. You hint at matters that are beyond the battlefield. The Empire and the Whones would not take such a defection lightly. I suppose you'll not tell me what brings Zarl's cavalry to this village?"
Gisel smiled. "I'd rather not, General. Affairs of state require great negotiations - and great secrecy. My commanders tell me that Lubitz has spent many years keeping the Emperor's nose out of the city's affairs. If the Empire is given time to enter this war in strength, none of us will win. "
General Garriker looked thoughtful and made no answer.
"We're only messengers," Yohan said slowly. "If you see your way to allow us to complete our task there'll be ample opportunity for your brother to determine the course to serve Lubitz best. We hope to meet the Baron as well as Gerd Misiker - and it's my understanding that the Margrave holds them both in high regard. Nothing would please us more than to be the instruments by which all these grievous affairs are cast into new light."
"Grand thoughts for mere messengers," General Garriker said. "But your mission obviously has a greater significance than plain sight suggests. I am bound to this scratch army by duty but would be pleased to think that the post I'm defending will not be betrayed from behind."
"The Felgers will guarantee that, General," Yohan said, "Our interests are yours."
"And your bodyguard will do nothing without your knowledge?"
Yohan looked at Gisel sharply. "I'll not let Galen out of my sight."
"Then what young fool will sound out the mood in Lubitz?" Lerris Garriker asked with a smile.
Gisel locked eyes with him a moment. "I'd need a safe conduct to answer that."
"And I have no authority to give it," the general answered. "But you have earned my consideration - for honor."
"How so, General?"
"That was chivalrous, if foolish, to undertake such a defence of the child. Lubitz should have more such adversaries. I will permit you your weapons and your freedom to continue to the city. I believe there is enough integrity left in Lubitz that it should not be harmed if you attempt your duty there. I will write my brother to expect you."
Gisel did not answer, here was a soldier brave enough to make risky decisions - with scant information. He continued to hold her eyes as he spoke further.
"You may leave tomorrow morning but must take the south road to the Blackrock Ford, not the route past my army's dispositions. If I find you spying in the rear of my army I'll hang you." He leaned forward. "Betray this concession I have made and I'll hang you both."
Zagdorf reluctantly closed up his temporary headquarters in the monastery, but he was not resigned to abandoning his search. In Lubitz, it would be too late to complete this pursuit. He rode the main highway from Novrehan this morning in the company of three of his troopers, his glance flying everywhere - every bush; every clump of trees; every cleft and hollow. If the Emperor's words had not sounded so implacable, he'd take his time getting to Lubitz. Felger and his Iskander escorts could appear at any moment. If he had the time, he'd have these Moonwald roads searched again.
Some leagues ahead of him rode the half-squadron of lancers. Would they remember his orders to comb the countryside as they marched north on their way to Makberg? The officer was keen enough but his men were less likely to remember important instructions once they came under Duke Solerar's command. If they found the fugitives, they would carry them to Solerar rather than return to hand them over to him. Almost as bad as not finding them.
When he spied a group of horsemen on the road ahead riding toward him, he almost changed his gloomy thoughts. Had they succeeded? He ordered his small column to halt, sat impatient, on a restless horse, as they neared. But they were his own men under Hrutich, that he'd sent north across the Moonwald.
The column halted a pistol shot away, Hrutich spurred up to him and saluted.
Zagdorf scanned the group for prisoners. "You didn't find them?"
The sergeant shook his head. "We searched every damned patch of bush across the Moonwald. No mortal riders could come unseen."
"A road leads straight to Lubitz from the village of Abersolm."
"I know, Commandante. We was there, but no sign of them."
It was the only road which could spoil his ambush near Blackrock Ford. Did Hrutich understand its importance? "You are certain they didn't go that way?"
"They canna take that road. General Garriker has an army stationed along it. He would not let anyone pass...would open his rear to spies, he said."
Zagdorf nodded grudgingly. "He's wise. Well - good, we must be in Lubitz tomorrow, but I will keep my ambush on the road. There is only one route, they have to take it."
"If they're anywhere. I tell you, Commandante, I couldn'a missed them."
Zagdorf studied the man's face briefly. He was confident he'd done the best he could, but these bastards were tricky. "Where should I look, then? They cannot have vanished."
Hrutich screwed his eyes down to slits, as if in pain. "Let me go back to Brehafen. They must have turned back."
He shook his head slowly. "No, not the Wildcat. She'll dare anything."
If the resolve of Lubitz wavered, it would draw her like a magnet. The city's fate was critical. His Emperor needed him to shore up the war faction in the city. He'd lay odds the little bitch would go there too. Catching the fugitives on the road would be a bonus, but one way or another he'd get her. Even if he had to do it himself.
Marc kept watch upon the river and the ruins of the burned-out border post from a thicket at the place he'd hidden the scow, just below Blackrock Ford. The river flowed undisturbed down to Lubitz, but the ferryman's words had been plausible. Likely no boatmen from Novrehan dared chance the passage, but it would be crowded with refugees over the border. Ideal cover for Gisel and Felger, if only he could ensure she took it.
The border post that had been attacked and burned by Iskander cavalry four days before loomed like a broken tooth on the skyline. Marc daren't move until dark in case Zagdorf's men had posted a watch there again. Their ambush position was a kilometre beyond, in a steep sided gully. It was cleverly set - no way around that couldn't be seen from the summit of the feature. The scow was Gisel's only way to get to Lubitz, but he'd need to break his communicator silence to let her know.
He sighed. No choice. The satcom rested at his feet, where he'd placed it an hour before. He set it up with the best sky view he could manage.
The first thing he did was punch in Gisel's satcom number - it was worth a try. No response - she must be traveling. He'd just decided to call Iskander Control in Tarnland when his receiver beeped softly. Damn, they must be waiting for him to switch on.
"Marc Chronon."
"Scopes here. You're a damned insubordinate wretch! If Matah hadn't got me to switch your assignment I would have you on a Court Martial this very minute!"
Matah? What had Gisel done? "What assignment, Mr. President?"
"A new plan. I've ordered her to remain in Lubitz. Be our eyes in the city. You will have to stay close to back her up."
"Done, Sir. You can count on me."
"Count on you? What the hell did you think you've been pulling -?"
"I felt she needed backup all along. I only intended - "
"All right! I don't need your excuses now. I expect you to answer an investigation when you return to Lingdon. Where are you?"
"Beside the Lubitz river - at the Blackrock Ford." He hurriedly described the situation and his plan. "I need to contact her - tell her where to find the scow."
"Very well. Give me the location. I've ordered her to report in daily."
Marc stared at the satcom. Bet she hasn't, she never does. But Jeeze - she'd better check in this time!
He read out his coordinates. "Where was Lieutenant Matah, Sir, last time she checked in?"
"Two days ago she was traveling north across the Moonwald. I'm hoping she didn't run into trouble at the village of Abersholm - she hasn't reported since."
"The road from there meets the Lubitz road not a kilometre from this ford, Sir. I'll check with you after dark. If you've not heard from her, I'll set out that way."
"Good. And report daily. No excuses - you're on borrowed time now."
"Wait, Sir! I have to tell you what I saw at Novrehan."
"What did you see?" Scopes' voice dripped sarcasm.
Marc described the base he'd found at the so-called monastery. Scopes quizzed him about the details several times, sounding grudgingly pleased. Then he signed off.
Marc closed the cover of the satcom and crept through the bushes to the scow. It nodded gently at the mouth of the river backwater. He'd found an ox-bow, an old river channel plugged by flood debris at its upper end but open at the lower. The channel and the banks were choked with willows, but there was just enough water depth to pull the scow out of the current and hide it in the vegetation. He waded out into the muddy slop to place the satcom in his pack, lying in the bottom of the scow. Looked like he'd be traveling with them.
On his way back, he checked his horse was still securely hobbled. The stallion was hidden in some taller bushes in a drier part of the ox-bow. Back at his vantage point, he looked around carefully before settling down between two fallen trees. Gisel could reach here tonight - she'd probably travel in the dark. He had to make sure she knew about the scow, and didn't continue along the road until she bumped into the ambush. What if she didn't check in by satcom? He could move his position to the burned-out frontier post - God help him if the troopers had taken position there again.
He took up his carbine from its resting place against a stump. It looked something like a Winchester 30-30, but Henrik Matah had made a test batch for the 10mm pistol ammunition. Those big slugs could knock over a horse, so he'd grabbed a spare carbine for himself. He cranked the breech lever slowly and thumbed the ejecting round back into the magazine, peering down the barrel for the twentieth time - it was clean and ready for action.
The afternoon passed slowly; he ate some of the hard tack he'd brought and washed it down with water from his belt flask. He scanned the river and the frontier post every few minutes, and the visible stretches of the two roads - to Novrehan and to Abersholm - for a few minutes between. From this thicket, he couldn't see where the roads met, but it was just out of sight at the base of the hills rimming his western horizon.
When he saw the column of lancers riding down the hill, he grabbed for his binoculars. Was it Zagdorf?...No, a younger man at the head in a shiny parade cuirass. But they were Empire men - he could see the golden orb symbol on their lance pennants. How many patrols were on the road? This one must have come from Novrehan - that made three he knew of.
"Dammit, Gisel," he muttered. "You've roused half an Imperial army against us."
The column disappeared behind the trees - they'd be approaching the unseen road intersection. He waited - which way would they go, toward Gisel or toward him? They were out of sight only a few minutes when he could bear the suspense no longer. He picked up the carbine and chambered a round, then he scuttled bent-over through the thicket to his horse.
He slid the carbine into its scabbard, making sure it slid freely, then untied the hobble. Taking the horse by the bridle he led it up out of the ox-bow. What was he going to do? He stopped to think. Which was worse - that they find him and the scow, or surprise Gisel on the road? The only thing he could think of was to draw them away from the area. He would have to chance that no one was watching from the border post. His horse was fresh, the cavalry had likely traveled all day. He should be able to slip any pursuit once he'd got them turned from the road.
When he reached the edge of the bushes he fumbled his binoculars from his pack and scanned the hillside. There!...halfway up the hill. They'd taken the road to Abersholm. He swung into the saddle and cantered along the riverbank toward the ford, his eyes on the distant road and the horsemen on it. He'd catch up - about two hundred yards away...the carbine would outrange cavalry pistols - fire a shot at them to start their pursuit. Why were the reins shaking in his hands? Easy, easy...nothing to be scared of.
Bang!
Jeeze! The border post was manned after all! Three horsemen galloped down the hill toward Blackrock Ford. Some of Zagdorf's men carried carbines, though theirs were flintlocks and unrifled. The puff of powder smoke in the road showed that the rearmost man had fired at him. Hopeless at such a range - but the other two riders were closer. The first was already splashing into the ford.
Marc yanked the carbine from its scabbard and spurred his horse forward. He couldn't ride from these men, they'd seen where he came from. He'd given away the position of the scow. He reined in his mount near the ford and slid out of the saddle. Raising the carbine he fired at the second man, just urging his horse into the ford.
The soldier threw up his arms and fell backwards into the water. One down.
The nearest man was almost halfway across the river. He carried a pistol - tried to aim it as he rode. The third man was at the ford now. Marc drew a bead on him and dropped him onto the riverbank. He lay still.
The trooper in the center of the river drew rein. He rested his pistol arm on his mount's neck. Marc cranked the breech lever as fast as he could. He raised the carbine.
The two weapons went off simultaneously.
A great blow seared at Marc's side. A red hot poker had walloped him - he reeled and almost fell; grabbed at the horse's reins to support himself. The horse backed, frightened, half dragging him with it. "Easy, boy. Easy."
He laid his carbine across the saddle and heaved himself up. God but he felt shaky! His eyes kept blurring. He turned his head. The horse in the middle of the ford had no rider. Some fabric lump drifted away on the current. None of those bastards would find the scow.
Marc leaned over his mount's neck to urge it forward. The shooting would bring the lancers back at the gallop. Did he have time to reach the Novrehan road before they came down the hill?
Yohan and Gisel left Abersholm early in the morning, following General Garriker's scouting patrol as far as the ferry. By afternoon, the weather cleared to bright sunshine as they traveled along the south road toward Blackrock Ford. The Moonwald formed their south horizon, its dusty pine trees straggling close to the highway before they were smothered by tall graceful beeches and oaks.
Yohan noticed no signs of continuous habitation, the odd shepherds' huts and sheepcotes were empty at this time of year. The shadowed woods could conceal all manner of enemies, but he saw Gisel scanning carefully and felt reassured. The road itself was deserted, as if the war to the north had frightened travelers away. He couldn't blame them.
As he rode, his eyes unseeing on the ground before him, he gradually dropped back several lengths behind Gisel. If only General Garriker had given them permission to take the shorter route to Lubitz. This road would take two extra days to get to Lubitz. Worse, it met the highroad between Novrehan and Lubitz at the Blackrock Ford. If Zagdorf's men were looking to catch them, it would be there.
The bodyguard business had been a deception from the start. The little minx had fooled him yet again. He looked up from his sightless reverie and focused his eyes on her back, straight in the saddle. Maybe not entirely a deception. The rescue in the inn had been real enough. Her treatment and care of his injuries had been expert - but damn the woman. Couldn't she be honest with him?
What harm would her activities do to his mission in Lubitz? He could hardly take her into Gerd Misiker's home knowing she was gathering intelligence for their enemy. He had promised General Garriker. But the general had surmised much of her intentions, and given her leave to go on, even so. Would he have been as magnanimous if he had known her to be the Wildcat? His eyes focused on the near distance again and he realized she had drawn rein to wait for him.
She raised the brim of her plumed hat. "I'm glad your mount hasn't fallen to sleep as well, but we'll never get to Lubitz at this rate."
"I was thinking."
She gave him one of her dark eyed stares that made him feel she was reading his mind. "I want to thank you again for backing me up last night. Those freebooters could have turned on you."
Yohan was silent a moment, remembering the feeling of horror that had come over him when he'd returned from the stables to find everyone outside at a duel. She didn't stand a chance against the captain with his steel protection - how wrong he'd been. But just as well he'd run headlong to the forecourt, though. "I had your assault rifle."
"And did just the right thing."
She urged her mount into motion as his trotted alongside.
Yohan conjured up a stern expression. "I cannot allow you to spy in Lubitz."
"The Felgers will not suffer from it. If need be I shall find my own refuge in the city."
"I gave my word to Lerris Garriker. You'll do nothing without my knowledge! I shall watch your every move."
She broke into a momentary grin. "We're not going to cohabit under your future father-in-law's roof, are we?"
"We are not cohabiting."
"Your betrothed might not believe that if she finds out."
Yohan glanced away, she grew more attractive every day. He'd enjoyed the times she had been out of disguise. Too much - he had to lose those images. "If just one enemy learns your identity, you'll be executed as a spy."
"I trust you not to give me way."
"Perhaps because I'm a fool. You have not returned my trust as constantly."
"My orders were changed just three days ago. What I told you aboard the 'Maid' was true - then."
He stared hard at her face, wanting to believe her and yet not wanting to. Had he ever met such a baffling woman? "And what are they now? You spy in Lubitz?"
She shrugged. "You could call it that. I told Scopes that I was prepared to find out if they'd speak with an envoy."
"With what object?"
"A truce - cease-fire - whatever you want to call it. Hopefully an end to the fighting between us."
"Is that what Iskander wants?"
"What I want. Iskander will win either way - but Scopes agreed it would be the most honorable course."
"And the most dangerous?"
"Right."
"What do we do about Zagdorf?"
"We assume his orders are to stop us. He may be finished when we get to Lubitz."
"Marc believes he intends to capture you. Why else has Marc followed us?"
"Marc imagines things."
"He is a good friend to you. I believe he must love you very much."
"Marc? Nonsense. He thinks I'm helpless without a man's guidance. His guidance."
"I'm not an expert in affairs of the heart, but even I can see his regard. You do as well, even if you choose not to admit it."
She looked away.
"I will not betray you in Lubitz, but neither will I allow you to take advantage of the Felger name. You said Lubitz and the Felgers could benefit equally."
"I hope that will happen."
"What chance is there for a truce?"
"You heard Gretzel's mother at Abersholm - the common people are ready to see the war end. Perhaps Iskander needs to give them a nudge."
Yohan snorted. "You mean to foment revolution?"
Gisel laughed. "You have as exaggerated an idea of the Wildcat as anyone. I should never have told you my secret. I'm only human."
"You mean, only a woman? I have learned how much you can turn that to your advantage."
"I shall remember not to discount your wiser judgement."
He snorted. "What do you intend? I will turn around and go back to Lingdon before I will partake in treachery."
She regarded him with a grave expression. "I must speak to the leaders of Lubitz. They won't treat my words seriously unless they know who I am. I hope none of them will hang me for it."
They rode in silence for many minutes. What recklessness - the Wildcat was living up to her reputation. She even tells her President what she's prepared to do. He must keep the Felger name far from her clandestine activity but could not let her perish for want of a friend. "If I can learn who you may safely approach, I will help. But nothing more."
"Thank you, Meister. I will not see you harmed for this."
"I will tell the Baron everything."
"You must. But is he in Lubitz? He hasn't been caught in our blockade. My understanding is that we go there only to make inquiries about him."
"Yes. I suppose he may have left before the blockade was in place. But I will not know until I've spoken with Gerd Misiker."
"Then we should not make promises on speculation. We have to get to Lubitz first - let's put on some speed."
Marc's horse galloped faithfully for hours. They made it to the Novrehan road ahead of the lancers; they passed the village, near the place he'd bought the scow. They led the whole formation a kilometre or two south, before he turned off into the forest and made for the hills. He hoped to lose them in the wilder country, but hadn't been able to shake them. Now, he could feel his horse weakening. The lancers were closing in.
He drew rein and pulled the carbine from its scabbard.
They were four hundred yards away. If he waited until they were within accurate range he'd lose the last of his distance advantage. He tucked the butt under his shoulder and worked the lever with his right hand. His whole left side was numb, blood seeped down his leg and smeared across the saddle leather. Trusting his horse not to balk, he let the reins go. His left arm felt detached, but he managed to raise the carbine to his shoulder.
He drew bead on the center of his pursuers and fired. He cranked the lever and fired again.
The pursuers swerved from the forest track. Some vanished into the bordering trees. Two turned their mounts about and for a brief moment Marc thought he might have them in retreat. They cantered back a short distance to help a comrade who had fallen from the saddle.
"One down," Marc muttered. They'd keep their distance for a while. He urged his mount into a canter and returned to his original course.
He rode to the top of the rise ahead before he swivelled in the saddle to see behind. The pursuers were gaining again, three hundred yards. He counted seven or eight - the rest could be flanking him...seeking a short cut. He had enough ammunition to drop several more. By then it would be dark. Should he find a hiding place or keep riding until his mount died beneath him? He must keep on until Gisel's route was clear.
He scanned the forest as he passed. Too thick for them to outflank him.
How many lancers carried firearms? Perhaps only the officers. Their lances were deadly enough...the blood he'd lost, he couldn't fight for long. The wound needed dressing, but it didn't pain him. Perhaps that was a bad sign.
A shout from behind. His heart leaped and he swivelled to look. They were still following - the officer giving orders.
If only he knew where Gisel was. He no longer knew which way he rode. What if he led these lancers onto her unawares? Was the Abersholm road to his right, or straight ahead? Fool! He needed cover to make a stand.
The trees blurred as he passed them. He stared into every opening for cover - rocks - deadfall - anything. He needed four hundred yards of open space to take advantage of his carbine's range. The trees grew too close here. He'd be surrounded before he saw anyone coming.
He felt himself sway in the saddle. Was he fainting or did the horse stagger? He put a hand to his left side - wet with blood - no feeling. He drew back on the reins to descend a steep hill at a careful trot. The trees grew thicker at the bottom - a marshy place beside a stream.
Part way up the hill from the stream he stopped. Dragged the carbine from its scabbard. If he could shoot them, Gisel would be safe. The lancers scattered before he could crank the lever with one good arm.
He rode on. No adequate cover - nothing. Losing blood - his mind wandered...half formed plans drifted across his awareness. Iskander had grand plans...used to be part of them. Now Gisel...his only friend...only one worth caring for. He stopped and fired at his pursuers. He missed. They closed to two hundred yards. If only Gisel were with him - but she mustn't be, must she? Had to lure these men away.
Marc rode on, the lancers coming closer.
Three more galloped out of the trees to his left. Had he been riding in a circle? There! A rock overhang. He left the track and spurred toward it. The ground was sloped - uneven. His horse stumbled - he jumped clear as it faltered. The animal whinnied and fought to stay upright. Marc grabbed the reins to pull himself to the saddle. He reached for the carbine with his good arm.
The lancers left the track: spurred toward him, lances levelled.
Marc closed a fist about the carbine's stock. He dragged the weapon free. He swivelled quickly, aimed and fired.
He hit the oncoming horse. It pitched to the ground - the lancer tumbling over its head.
Marc clamped the carbine to his side with his weak arm and worked the lever action. He saw two more enemies coming up the slope. He raised and fired.
The lancers were too close. One lance point and its pennant swung toward him. He saw the Imperial symbol, the golden orb - the lancer's face and glaring eyes sighted at him down the shaft. Frantically he cranked the lever action of the carbine. The steel point hurtled toward his chest.
Black...
They rode hard for the rest of the day, but Gisel turned aside from the road before dark. A bald hill to the south of them looked a good place to run the satcom - it had been three days since she'd last checked in. Scopes would burn her ass, but she had good reasons. Abersholm had not been secure.
Yohan dismounted and tethered his horse to a tree. "Will we camp here?"
She paused with her saddlebag half open. "Not sure yet. Wait until I talk to Iskander."
"You mean to ride on?"
Gisel looked up at the darkening sky. "It'll be clear tonight. Maybe I'm getting spooked, but this road is taking us closer to Novrehan. I'd feel better traveling under cover of darkness."
Yohan yawned. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Too many thoughts - and sentries stomping about outside."
She hauled the satcom out of the bag. "You'll learn. An old campaigner can get enough sleep standing up."
"I hope I'll not have to." He lifted one of his saddlebags down. "This journey is making the Felger counting house and its ledgers seem more enticing all the time."
Gisel smiled at him. "You don't mean that. I'll tell the Baron how good you are at this - likely the Felgers and Iskander will have lots of secret missions in the future."
Yohan bent over, opening the bag. "I'll need a cavalry squadron for escort before I come out here again."
"No need - I'll come with you."
Yohan looked up with a shake of his head. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Gisel laughed. "Hurry up and get a fire going. Use that Iskander soup powder to make us a quick supper."
She set up the radio equipment and aimed the antenna at the horizon. A few nudges and she had a strong return on the signal strength meter. She punched in the digits for Iskander Control and Seline Carson's voice sounded from the speaker.
"Hi Seline - how's Bergrund tonight?"
"Gisel! We're fine but why haven't you called? Scopes is worried."
She'd believe that when she saw it. "Good for him. He might appreciate me more. Any messages for me?"
"Yes, Marc left you one this morning."
So Marc had called - must have been serious. Not like him to flout orders, so it'd likely taken some nail-biting to fess up. A faint crackling silence lasted for almost a minute. "He has a boat waiting for you at the Lubitz river." Seline read out the coordinates.
"Got them. Why a boat?"
"He says Zagdorf has an ambush set on the road. You'll never get past."
"Damn. How safe is it to get to this boat?"
"He said he'd wait there for you. It's hidden in a creek, ready to go. Just downstream from Blackrock Ford, on the left bank."
Gisel shook her head doubtfully. "The ford's not watched?"
"It could be, that's why he's waiting. He says approach from downstream. Is he going to Lubitz with you?"
"I guess so."
Seline seemed surprised. "He doesn't have documents - does he?"
"Doesn't matter now. Zagdorf's men are the only threat this way and they wouldn't care if he had a passport from God."
"Dammit, Gisel. You guys take care."
Gisel sniffed. "Gotcha. If Marc calls tonight, tell him we'll be there before first light."
"Will do. Anything else?"
"That's all I have. Signing off."
Yohan straightened up from his fire. "So we ride all night?"
"Afraid so. Hurry with that soup."
As the sky brightened an hour before dawn, they came to the crest of the last slope above the river. Yohan's head nodded to his mount's gait, and then the animal veered beneath him. He jerked his chin up and shook himself awake. Gisel had drawn rein in front and had her hand out to stop him.
Yohan gripped the horse with his knees as it stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Lights moving down there."
His mount snorted, then backed up restlessly. The horses barely blew hard, they'd traveled at an easy pace all night - Gisel ahead wearing her night vision goggles. He stared into a grey gloom, threads of mist curling off the water. "Where?"
"Upstream, perhaps a kilometre."
He turned to look where she pointed. At first everything was dark, then perhaps he saw a faint flicker in the distant woods. "What do you suppose?"
She said nothing - just took off her night vision goggles as she reached into her pack.
Yohan watched the closer trees while she scanned the valley with her binoculars. He slipped the assault rifle from his shoulder and cocked it. Suddenly, he wasn't tired.
He turned back to her when she lowered the binoculars and spoke. "Rushlight torches - I can just make out horsemen holding them. They're searching every patch of brush for something."
"What?"
"Us, probably. We'd best find this boat and get out of here quick."
They urged their mounts into a trot. Yohan felt his nerves tingling. "Is the boat a good idea? They'll see us on the river."
"Not if we get far enough before it's fully light. Row like hell with the current, we could probably outpace a horse."
"Until we tire."
"You're a cheerful sod. I bet you could row for hours with that one-eyed sergeant behind you."
Yohan raised the muzzle of the gun. "If I see him again - he's dead."
She grinned a wolfish grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's the spirit! I'll make you a soldier yet."
They cantered down the hill toward the ford, just enough night left to conceal them from any watchers. Yohan stared in the direction of the lights - now plainly visible in the trees - and whispered hoarsely. "What about Marc?"
"I'm thinking he'll be waiting for us at the boat."
"What if he didn't get your message?"
"Then he doesn't know we're coming this way at all. If he's prepared this for us..."
Yohan looked at her. "Yes?"
She shook her head. "Why is Zagdorf searching? They must have seen him in the area."
Gisel found the scow hidden in the ox-bow as Marc's message described. Yohan waited above her on the riverbank, cradling the assault rifle while she scouted. His nerves jangled, but they were safe so far - no one waiting in ambush.
She scrambled up to him. "There are oars in the bottom, and Marc's ready-pack."
Yohan glanced toward the light growing in the east. "You want to look for him?"
She shook her head. "Can't let him delay us."
The last thing Yohan wanted - the searchers would be at the ford in a few minutes. They rushed back to the horses. As they transferred their baggage to the scow, Gisel kept stopping to look about and listen.
"I don't like this," she said. "There's only one reason for him not to be here."
"What's that?"
"Don't ask, Meister."
Yohan dashed back to the horses to check they'd not forgotten something. From the edge of the bushes he saw lights on the road - the horsemen were at the ford. His horse smelled his stab of fear and snorted, backing away from him. They had to hide these animals - Zagdorf's men would see them when the sun rose. He stooped under the branches and hurried back to Gisel.
"I see the lights getting closer. What do we do with the animals?"
"Good thought. We can't leave them saddled, Zagdorf will know we're not far away. Let's take saddles and tack with us."
"The horses?"
"They've not been ridden hard - if we let them loose they could have been here all night."
"But he'll know we've taken to the river."
"Can't be helped."
They dashed back to the animals and then lugged saddles and harness back down into the ox-bow. Yohan swore as bushes grabbed at his load. Gisel began to laugh, but then tripped and fell to her knees in the muck.
He reached out a hand to help her scramble to her feet. Her eyes met his but then she looked away quickly. They'd be laughing like a pair of idiots any moment - that stupid hysterical outlet for tense nerves - but there was no time to lose.
Yohan scrambled into the scow to take the tack as Gisel passed it to him. He piled everything against the blunt prow. "What next? Are we ready to go?"
"Hand me the rifle - I'll take a quick scout to see where Zagdorf's men are. Be ready to cast off."
Yohan watched her slip away into the bushes. He wasn't convinced she was only thinking to check for their enemies. Her manner had changed abruptly - far more serious than her usual devil-may-care when facing danger. She returned about five minutes later, untying the painter mooring the stern and bringing it with her as she jumped into the scow. "All clear. Let's make waves."
"What about Marc? Should you call him on the radio?"
"I will - when we get further down the river."
Yohan untied the bow mooring from a willow branch. "Will we take an oar each?"
"You row first - I'll keep watch in case anyone sees us starting out."
Yohan took up one oar to pole them out of the shallows. The river current took the bow and swung them even before the stern was clear. Out on the water it seemed dawn already, hardly a wisp of mist. He felt the whole world could see them. He dropped down on the thwart and grabbed the other oar. They drifted for a minute until he had both oars ready to stroke - in the quiet, with only rippling noises from the water in his ears, his heart pounding in his breast. He had to make himself inhale instead of waiting breathlessly for a musket shot.
He watched the oars as he started rowing. He must be careful not to make a mistake until he worked into the rhythm. The sky shone like pale gold, the sun just below the horizon. The river ripples sparkled dove grey and the droplets from the oars like strings of pearls. As he leaned back to pull, he could see past Gisel, crouched in the stern with the assault rifle raised. They both scanned from bank to bank across the water. No movement on either side. He could hardly believe their luck, but he understood why Gisel had drummed Iskander's tactic into him. Move first - in the dark if necessary. The quickest army wins.
They reached midstream, where the current was strongest, and the little scow surged faster. Yohan picked a mark on the bank a moment to judge their speed. It would take full gallop for a horseman to catch them. He felt relieved. He turned his gaze to the river - still no pursuers. He saw Gisel, seemingly staring intently. Her shoulders shook.
"Gisel? Anything wrong?"
"No. Keep rowing."
Her voice seemed unusually thick.
"Are you worried? Do you think they caught Marc - ?"
"Shaddup! Row, goddamn you."
They reached a bend in the river. Gisel laid down the gun and moved to the thwart beside him. "Sorry. Give me an oar."
Yohan stared as he passed an oar to her. Her face was expressionless, but he almost felt the willpower it took. If Marc had been caught, they would have ridden into an ambush at the boat. So Zagdorf had been unable to question him. He'd got away, or...Flame protect us...been killed creating a diversion. They rowed together in silence, the little scow dancing over the water toward Lubitz.
The river valley was wide and the channel itself well sheltered with trees and willow bushes. Yohan soon lost the fear that watchers from the road would glimpse them on the river. They rowed steadily for an hour.
Yohan pulled until his arms felt leaden. "How far do you think we've come?"
"Five or six leagues - somewhat less in a straight line."
The river wound leisurely along the valley floor - likely the road would be more direct. If Zagdorf had found their horses and guessed they were in a boat, his horsemen could be in pursuit. Could they even be in front? Yohan turned to look at the river ahead.
"Looks like two channels. Which way should we steer?"
"Hold rowing a moment." Gisel studied the river. "It's an island in midstream. Quite a big one."
"We could stop. I think the night's riding is catching up to me."
"You're the very devil for wanting to sleep. You can catch up in Lubitz."
"I'll sleep for the rest of the week."
"If we see a place to pull the scow out of sight...maybe it'd be a good idea to hide. Perhaps we'd be safer to travel at night."
"I'm all for that. Your night goggles have served us well. It'll give you time to call Marc on the radio."
Gisel turned away, avoiding his eyes. She guided them down the side of the island furthest from the Lubitz highroad. At a patch of willows growing around a shallow inlet, she pulled strongly on her oar, sending the scow to shore. The little boat forced itself between the springy branches - its stern almost out of the river channel before it lost way. They took hold of the thicker trunks, pulling themselves further in and tying the painter to a tree.
Gisel went into the bow. "I want to look in Marc's pack before I check out the island."
Yohan shipped the oars and then turned around to watch. She started pulling things out, Yohan didn't recognize many of them. She turned to him, her face like a frozen mask. "These are all high security items - things we wouldn't want Zagdorf to get hold of."
Yohan felt a hollow in his stomach. "You'd better call him by radio, quick."
She shook her head. "I can't. It's in here."
They ate and rested until sunset. When dusk descended on the river, shadows and patches of mist drifted from the water meadows to hang above the channel in damp musty blankets. They packed up their camp on the island and reloaded the scow. Waiting a moment before untying the moorings, the gurgles and chuckles of the river seemed to close in as the perimeter of their world contracted in fog.
Yohan stared into the thickening mist. Why had he suggested waiting so long? "Not good. Without this we might have beaten Zagdorf to Lubitz."
"Scant hope now. We'll drift slowly on the current until the fog lifts, my night vision goggles are useless in this."
They pushed off gently into the current. While Yohan took the oars - pulling just enough to keep their bow pointed downstream - Gisel crouched in the prow with a long branch she'd cut, listening to the water sounds ahead.
They drifted down the dark river like passengers on a ghostly log. They drifted into backwaters, going in circles until they realized what was happening. Slowly, the fog lifted about them, though even then they nosed into dank patches that lay unseen on the water, smelling like wet dogs.
At last Gisel put on her night vision goggles. "You can pull harder. I'll be lookout."
As the air cleared, the stars became visible between scudding clouds in a gray velvet sky, and the distant hills could be imagined rather than seen as deeper shadows hedging the vault. They passed two silent villages and then found a small island ahead.
Yohan strained into the dark to make out the shape of a watchtower. "Where is this?" he whispered.
"Shhhh! It's a toll castle."
The scow lurched and a thrill of alarm coursed through Yohan's veins. A harsh scraping came from the bottom of the scow. They'd hit the heavy chain which blocked the river, just below the surface in midstream.
"Godammit!" Gisel peered over the side. "I should have paid attention to the chain hanging over the banks."
The scow began to swing and tilt.
"Into the bows!" she said hoarsely. "Jump to it!"
With their shift of weight, the bow of the boat dropped over the chain and the keel slid across it on the current. They only came free because their craft drew less water than the river barges the toll castle was intended to stop. Yohan took two steps across the thwarts to his seat - he pounced on the oars and began to row. Gisel picked up the assault rifle and stared across the water at the tower.
"Who's there?" came a sleepy sounding voice from the riverbank. "I hears ye!"
Gisel held up a hand and shook her head.
Yohan lifted the oars out of the water, letting the current sweep them past. Lantern light flared suddenly at the base of the tower as someone opened its shutter; the feeble glow barely showed on the water. The voice came again but from further off. The watchman sounded less insistent. The lantern swung about the base of the tower for a minute and then Yohan felt safe enough to row again. The faint yellow light receded into the distance.
"Sorry about that," Gisel whispered. "I was watching for sentries and didn't think of a boom."
"Well, we made it."
In the small hours of the morning they drifted into the relative calm of an ox-bow channel. Yohan sat bent over against the oars, drowsy from the lulling sound of the river ripples. Gisel hadn't spoken for a long time...was she asleep? Was that a splashing noise? He must open his eyes...row...
The wooden sides of a river barge loomed in front. Yohan saw the dim shapes of craft around them. He raised his oars.
Gisel snapped upright. "Back-water! Pull like hell, or we'll hit!"
She leaned far forward to fend them off with the tree branch. She pushed them away, but not enough. Yohan reversed the direction of his stroke and pulled hard. He swung back for the next stroke. One oar hit the stout planks and nearly wrenched free from his hand. The loud crack of breaking wood rang clear across the water.
Yohan's wrist jarred with the impact. "Damn! That's done us."
Gisel grabbed for the barge's mooring line to stop them. "Hush! You'll wake everyone in the anchorage."
Voices from the other side of the planking told them it was too late. Gisel reached up to the barge's counter and heaved herself aboard. "You keep their attention here."
Before Yohan could protest, she was gone. He heard more voices and muffled footsteps on the planking, then he could dimly make out the head and shoulders of a man looking down at him.
"Who's that prowling about in the darkness? Speak up or I'll lay about you with this belaying pin."
"I shouldn't try it," Yohan said, slipping the safety off the assault rifle. "I've blundered into the anchorage by mistake - and now one of my oars is broken."
"Busted an oar did ye? More fool you. If I shouts for 'elp there's a dozen friend's barges tied up here. I think we's enough to deal with river pirates."
"I'm no pirate - I'm a traveler upon the river."
"At night? Don't have me on."
A cry of alarm suddenly rang out from within the barge - a thin, high-pitched cry, as of a child. The bargeman lurched upright. "What's that? Ye've companions makin' mischief below?"
Gisel materialized beside him. "There's only two on board and one's a child. Seems to me you've room for passengers, captain."
The bargeman swung around with the belaying pin upraised but she blocked it with her rapier blade. "Fine way to welcome friends! We'll pay you well for passage to Lubitz."
The man backed away. "Let me see who I speaks with. I'll have no truck with ruffians what skulks in the dark."
"Then invite us to your cabin," Gisel said. "There's but two of us, though I warn you we're well armed."
No more was spoken until they reached the barge's small stern cabin, and the bargeman lit a yellow-smoking lantern. Yohan seated himself on a cabin trunk and looked about. From a bunk on the bulkhead the small face of a boy peered out among the blankets. What an ugly child - all ears and thin sallow cheeks.
"Sorry I frightened you, child," Gisel said, sliding the sash of her rapier to clear a wooden chest beside her stool.
"I aint child - an' I weren't frighted, mister," the boy said. He opened his small eyes wider. "Jus' startled."
Gisel grinned but didn't answer.
"What meant you about taking passage?" Yohan said in Scholar's Greek. "I think we're better on our own."
Gisel leaned closer to reply in a lower voice. "With a broken oar? Don't forget those who're after us. We'll be less obvious aboard this barge."
The bargeman frowned at this exchange. "Na don't go plottin' in some monkey-talk. Tell me your names like honest men."
"I'm Yohan Moller, and my companion is called Galen Brough. We're traveling to Lubitz on business."
The bargeman regarded them carefully. "Look-like you'm on mercenary business - wantin' easy money over poor Lubitz's troubles. But the river's full of strangers and refugees fleein' ahead of they Flameless Iskanders. Your business ain't none of mine if you'm as honest as your money."
Yohan took out his money purse. "We can pay for our passage. In gold."
The man accepted the half-ducat coins and seemed to relax. "This 'ere's no quarters fer gentlefolk but if what you sees is good enough, tis what ye'll get. Don't expec' Bulli Durfen to make no fuss about ye - crew's vittles is what ye'll eat."
"Fair enough, Bulli," Gisel answered. "It'll suit us to appear as members of a barge crew when we arrive in Lubitz."
The bargeman regarded them shrewdly. "For why?"
"That's our affair, but there are more villains about than travel at night."
"You be a'hiding?"
Yohan nodded. "But it need not cause harm for you. We'll leave the barge before that."
The bargeman studied them a moment. "Yer faces seem trustworthy - I'll take a small part if needs be."
Yohan reached out his hand. "Good, Bulli. I hope I can one day repay you with some good business. I'm a merchant...sort of."
Bulli Durfen laughed shortly. "Aye lad. An' I'm admiral o' the river."
Gisel turned to the boy in the bunk. "What's the lad's name? Is he kin?"
"Nay! Some ragamuffin I took aboard as us left Lubitz on the voyage upstream. Jus' as well, cause the louts I started with deserted me, an' without Rip I'd a bin stuck."
"Well, Rip," Gisel smiled reaching up a hand to shake his, "now we're shipmates. Think you could put up with us?"
The boy sat wide-eyed in the bunk, fascinated by their swords and accouterments. "Sure
thing, Meister Galen. Mayhap I could be yor squire?"
The morning sunshine had reached its strongest by the time the barge carrying Gisel and Yohan rounded the last river bend. Gisel saw Lubitz in the distance, but didn't have time to study it. The sail flapped uselessly against the mast on the new reach. She wore a shirt and breeches, with a sailor's bandanna about her head - the rapiers and gentlemen's traveling clothes were stowed below. Rip took the tiller as she, Yohan and Bulli Durfen lowered the yard and its loose flapping sail to haul around to the other side of the mast. They straightened the bundles of canvas and then leaped to the tackle to haul the yard to the masthead again.
"Lively now," Bulli said. "Pull!"
The lug-sail rose to the masthead and filled with the fresh breeze. The barge gathered speed on this new course as Bulli returned to the stern to take back the tiller.
Yohan joined Gisel, leaning on the thwart to mop his brow. "I hope we don't have to do this many more times."
Gisel grinned as she tightened the last sheet to the bitts. "Only every time we change direction."
"You'm gettin' better," Bulli Durfen laughed. "Could make a real sailor of 'im in a few more weeks."
Yohan wiped his hands on his breeches. "Thanks, I'll look forward to it."
Gisel didn't join in the conversation. In the distance she could pick out the wharfs and harbor basin where grassy banks gave way to low red sandstone embankments, guiding the river's flow into a controlled channel. Beyond, were the steps and ascending streets leading to the hill the city stood upon, fully sixty feet above the floodplain. Warehouses and clustering shanties clung to the steep slopes between. The highest of the city walls rose thirty feet and their towers another twenty higher still - the whole stretching, she knew from the satellite imagery she carried, several kilometres in circumference. The sun's rays reflected off the spires and gilded domes of the temples, and shone brightly upon the red tiled roofs of the many mansions and palaces. Lubitz had been more powerful in the past, but she could tell from the flawless white plaster facing the defensive walls that its leading families still guarded their fortunes and honor jealously.
The river the barge floated on was crowded with other traffic - barges, row-boats, even rafts piled precariously with household belongings. Smells of polluted water, of rotting cargoes, and of sweated fear assailed the nostrils. The hubbub of many thousand voices swelled in the ears. Bargees screamed abuse at wherrymen who came too close. The occupants of rafts shouted and shook their fists at sailing craft that swamped them. The surface of the water was almost invisible beneath evil colored scum and unrecognizable things that had fallen overboard in the rush to safety. Gisel realized this was a countryside in terror of Iskander's recent cavalry sweep. Old men in scows, housewives and trollops in cutters and gigs, rowboats of families with children and squalling babies soon hemmed them in on either side. Everyone who could get away was carrying themselves and their valuables into the city.
Gisel noticed soldiers among the crowds on the riverbank. "I think we'd better pay some attention to our appearance."
Yohan blinked. "How so? Aren't bargemen expected to be this dirty? If I have to wrap my arms around that sail one more time - "
"Not for smartness - for disguise. They'll recognize you by your height and fair hair."
"I can't do anything about my height."
"No, but you could cultivate a humble stoop. Come below and let me do something with your looks."
They clambered down the ladder into the cabin. Gisel went to her pack and took out the rechargeable lantern and first aid kit. "Get some water on your face so I can work up a lather."
"What? Are you a barber now?"
She rolled up her shirtsleeves. "There's a small razor in the first aid kit. I'm going to get rid of that damned moustache so you can wear my false beard."
"I don't want to shave - "
"Shut up and hold still. If Zagdorf doesn't catch us you'll have an opportunity to grow it back."
She worked a shaving foam into his straggling growth and lifted the razor.
"Mind you don't - "
"It's a safety razor - and don't ask, just keep your face still."
When she finished, Gisel stuck her black beard and moustache to Yohan's face. Rip came scrambling down the ladder - he stopped and stared in surprise.
"See if you can find a kerchief to hide your hair under," Gisel told Yohan.
Rip gaped at Gisel. "Your face...And your voice..."
"Forget my face."
He reached a hand to her waist and smoothed her shirt tight. "You've got boobies! You're not a man at all!"
She slapped his hand away. "Damn! Keep it to yourself or I'll cut the tongue from your mouth." She turned to Yohan. "Do I look too female?"
He grinned. "Depends on a man's taste."
"Don't be an ass." She slid her hands under her shirt to tighten her bra. "I need more disguise - have you a man's cap?"
"Bulli's got one."
"Find it, will you?"
"It won't fit you," Yohan said, his voice turned to a deep baritone by the circuits hidden in the beard.
"Got it," Rip said, coming back and holding out a large black cap. He stared at her again. "You're a woman...but you carries weapons...acts like a man. I'd a never guessed."
Gisel pulled the cap down low on her forehead. "Nobody's supposed to. How do I look?"
"That cap's too big," Yohan said.
"No matter - it looks more like a boy's cap that way. I might pass for a youth."
Yohan withdrew his hand from his pack. "Here's a kerchief, can you make a sailor's headgear?"
Rip reached for it. "I can. Bend down."
He folded it and pulled it tight over Yohan's head to knot.
"Make sure you tuck his hair in," Gisel said as she disassembled the assault rifle to tuck into her pack.
Yohan pursed his lips "We may need that in a hurry."
"Possibly, but we can't start a fire-fight in the city. Too many bystanders."
"But Zagdorf has a private army at his disposal."
"They have to recognize us first, Meister. This is the only way. Cover the rapiers with blankets and tie them on our packs."
"I don't like it. We're almost unarmed."
"Barge hands don't carry gentlemen's swords."
When they returned to the barge's deck Bulli did a double take and laughed. "You two changes more offen than a sailor's wives." He stared at Gisel. "An speakin' o' wives -"
"We're not," Gisel cut in, doing her best to keep her voice gruff. "God damn it! I'm a young lad - don't you see that?"
"Fer certain - if'n my eyes was closed."
Yohan scowled. "You may see, but people in the street will never notice. She even walks like a man when she wants."
"Thanks," Gisel said and turned toward the much closer city. In the middle distance she saw empty boats and barges clustered in the river and tied up along the quays below the city wall. The warehouses that lined the cobbled landings were four stories tall and had all doors and windows open to transfer the hastily evacuated stores unloaded from the river craft. The workmen with their loads struggled past the throngs of refugees from the countryside. City Militia stopped farmers with animals and directed them to hastily erected stockyards. She heard the lowing of cattle and squealing of pigs long before the farmyards smells wafted to her on the breeze. In the far distance, around one last bend in the widening river, she could see the masts and yards of Lubitz's merchant fleet in harbor. Their bare poles and stillness confirmed the blockading fleet still patrolled offshore.
"It seems as if they're preparing for a siege," Yohan said.
"Probably are. I'm sure the commanders will have taken our cavalry feint as a precursor to an assault upon the city."
"These people can't be fleeing from fighting. You said Iskander's cavalry had turned west."
"There was fighting a few days ago. Now they're fleeing from news of fighting. Not knowing the truth can be more terrifying than the conflict. I'm sure our cavalry feed that fear deliberately."
As they came closer to the city walls they sailed past several groups of workmen on the bank, digging earthworks and trenches. They labored to extend the city defenses, protecting the sea and river harbors, and the temporary stockyards. Soldiers in half armor directed the construction of earthwork and gabion redoubts for cannon. More soldiers set barrels and tipped over carts athwart the approaches to the warehouses. A company of musketeers guarded the work, casting wary eyes upon the river traffic.
"They're watching for spies," Yohan said in a hoarse whisper.
"Yes." Gisel nodded, standing up to stare back at the soldiers. "Good job we don't know any."
Yohan stood holding the standing rigging as they sailed into the mooring basin, suddenly he reached out and grabbed at Gisel's shoulder. Rip turned from coiling a rope.
Gisel pushed his hand away. "What's the matter?"
"Look! There's Zagdorf. On the quay walking with those men in black armor."
"I see him. Who are his friends?"
Rip scanned the quay. "Black armor is Kachupins. That big feller in front must be Wolk Kachupin - they says he'm a friend of the Emperor."
"They say right. The husky man with a bullet head is our enemy, Zagdorf. He's the Emperor's agent."
Yohan stared. "What do we do?"
"We'd better jump ship at the first opportunity."
Rip looked up. "What about yor packs?"
"You could help us there," Gisel told him. "Bulli is going to pay you off, isn't he?"
"S'pec so."
"You come with us now and I'll pay you to bring the extra packs along later."
"Pay? Like real silver?"
"Tell Bulli he can sell the saddles and tack, but make sure you get your share."
Rip's face creased. "How much d'you think I'd get?"
"All right - you said you'd be my esquire. I'll give you ten groats a day to be our guide in the city. Are you interested?"
Rip thrust out his hand with lightening speed. "Am I ever."
"Good. While Meister Yohan and I help Bulli moor the barge I want you to search the dockside for Kachupins and foreign soldiers."
She gave the lad an account of Zagdorf's cavalrymen and a detailed description of the one-eyed sergeant. "If you see them, make a note of where they're posted and how they're armed. Don't attract their attention - you understand?"
"I lived on the street four year. I'm still 'ere, aint I?"
Gisel felt a pang of guilt, but in her job she brought danger to anyone she met. She was reassured by the thought that grown men never paid attention to street urchins. With a bit of care she'd not risk putting the kid in danger. "If you know a way into the city that'll let us pass by unseen I'll give you an extra ten groats for the service."
"Done. I'll slip ashore as soon as we ties up."
Bulli shouted from the stern. "Down sail! Us has to wear ship into side channel."
Yohan dropped his pack to the deck. "Oh God Damn! Again?"
Gisel slapped his arm. "You're learning bad language from somebody," she said with a grin. "Come on. This should be the last time."
The barge moved more slowly in the river basin. The current eased as the channel widened into the tidal estuary - the wind dropped, sheltered by the wall of warehouses lining the riverbank and a tall, fortress-like watchtower that dominated the junction of the rivers. The two scratch crew lowered the lug-sail and carried it around to the lee side of the mast at their own pace. Yohan still grumbled as they raised it again.
"My hands are getting raw."
Gisel shook her head and chuckled without sympathy. She stood to look across the water at the fortress between the rivers. It wasn't part of the city defenses, but was inside the new earthworks. "What's that tower?"
Yohan shook his head. "I don't know, I was just a child when I came here before."
Bulli steered the barge into a small space between two docked barges, calling for Rip. Gisel and Yohan jumped ashore. They grabbed mooring lines and hauled them to a bollard between the adjacent barges. Bulli pushed his cap up as he stood at the bow, one hand on the forestay. "Yon tower you asked. Tis the Tower of Dazel."
Yohan looked up from the bollard. "Right. Now I remember. An order of warrior monks - called the Knights of Dazel. I believe the Felgers charter a ship from them at times, for escort."
Gisel turned to it again. "Hmm. I feel I've seen it before...not a pleasant memory. But maybe just a picture."
An hour later Rip guided them through a small postern beside one of the city watchtowers. Even here, refugees laden with furniture and traveling trunks thronged through the narrow passage. Gisel shifted her tote bag, with the concealed rapier strapped on top, setting it more easily on her shoulder as she took stock of the city on the other side of the interior gate.
The bustle and confusion looked like an overturned ant-hill. The houses were run down, with shutters hanging and gaping windows, but none was empty. Women leaned out of the windows, calling or arguing with the crowd in the streets. In between the houses and tenements were hovels of canvas and scrap wood crowded with dirty urchins and refugees. The narrow streets were jammed with wagons, pack animals, and foot traffic. Down the hill to their right was the main gate, where more of the Kachupin retainers in their black armor scanned every traveler as they stood to answer the city militiamen's questions.
The postern was guarded by a bored-looking mercenary corporal swigging from a hip flask. He didn't spare a glance for two young bargemen and a kid, with their duffel on their shoulders.
"Which way to the mansion?" Gisel asked Rip, seeing the flights of stone steps leading up to the summit of the hill and the center of the city.
He gaped at her. "You'm really goin' to the Misiker mansion? They'm too grand for common folk."
Gisel jerked a thumb toward Yohan. "He's betrothed to Misiker's daughter."
"No!" Rip's eyebrows rose. "What about you?"
"What do you mean - me?"
"Ain't you lovers? You travels together."
"Lovers?" Yohan exclaimed. "Definitely not!"
Gisel shook her head to hide a grin. "Mind your own business. Do you know the way to the mansion or don't you?"
"Course I does. It's this way."
Rip led up a flight of cobbled steps winding between the fronts of overhanging houses like a twisting, rising tunnel. The higher they climbed, the better the dwellings that towered over them. In the deep shadows they could see the outlines of metal studded doors and barred windows. Even here the throng of refugees hardly thinned, and every place where the overhanging storeys joined in arches over the steps, groups of people had set up camps of canvas lean-tos in the shelter. Children and cur-dogs ran about trying to steal scraps from women toiling over rude cooking fires. A one-legged beggar emerged from an arched doorway.
"Alms good sailors! Alms for one who served his city at sea."
Rip pushed the man away even as Yohan was reaching for his money belt. "Get on with ye, Bortlen. Y'never more than wet your arse in the harbor."
"Rip Toller! A fine way to treat a comrade. Where've ye been these weeks?"
"I'll tell y' later. Don't beg from these friends o' mine - I'll see ye fed this eve."
At the top of the steps they emerged into a narrow winding street that led steeply upwards toward the citadel. Gisel glimpsed the top of its battlements between the sharp pitched roofs fringing the horizon above them. A tangle of cart and pack mule traffic added to the throng of human carriers.
"The Misikers are close by the citadel?" Gisel asked.
"Close enough for security," Yohan said. "The leading families all have mansions on the hilltop near the Temple and the Gravhalle."
"Strange name," Gisel said. "That's City Hall, I take it."
Yohan nodded. "I'm thinking that we should slip into one of these alleyways to get out of our sailor disguise. The Misiker's retainers will never let us in."
"I was wondering about that. We're not sure we've evaded Zagdorf's men yet."
"You're sure he knows we're going to the Misikers?"
"Where else? Someone handed him our itinerary."
Yohan scowled at her words but made no answer.
A loud splintering crash came from ahead, followed by a burst of angry shouting. Metal scraped on the cobbles as a broken axle dragged. Above the heads of the crowd, Gisel saw a laden cart tip over and spill its precarious load of bedsteads and household effects. The crowd of refugees attempted to dodge and then burst out in curses and accusations. The street was blocked from side to side. A large crowd of angry gesticulating men and women quickly gathered.
Yohan sighed in frustration. "I think two carts have collided at the intersection."
"Let's go on far enough to check. We must be almost at the Misikers."
They pushed their way forward through the crowd, reaching the overturned cart. Yohan gave Gisel a boost to climb up, ignoring the angry cries of the owners of the cart who were attempting to lift the broken wheel. Beyond was a crossroads, the streets wider and better paved but every bit as crowded. Directly in front, a street of grand mansions stretched up a more gentle slope. Masonry gateposts flanked the iron gateways and fences of all the mansions. Part way along, two carriages and a hay wagon were parked beside an ornate ironwork gate that a group of footmen were closing.
"That's the Misiker mansion," Rip said, scrambling up beside her. "In Citadel Street."
"Yes, and there's our welcoming committee." Gisel pointed at a squad of black armored soldiers standing in the middle of the street checking everyone attempting to pass. Beside them stood Zagdorf's one-eyed sergeant and four of his troopers. One of the men jumped to attention and pointed their way.
Yohan was behind Gisel, staring over her shoulder. "Do you think he's recognized us?"
"Damned if I know," she said, dropping to the cobbles. "But I'm not staying to find out."
Gisel put out a hand to steady Rip as he slid down from the wagon. She turned to find they faced a huge crowd trying to go the other way. Yohan put his head down and pushed his way between two drunks and an old woman carrying a large portmanteau. "Follow me. I'll make a passage."
Gisel pushed Rip in front of her and brought up the rear. The skin of her back crawled in anticipation of a bullet, but reason told her Zagdorf's men could no more shoot in the crowd than could she. She couldn't see them behind the overturned wagon. How the hell were they to get to the Misikers? Worse - how the hell could she carry out her peace-probe spying if Zagdorf was on her case? She really needed backup this time, and Marc was gone. The feeling that he was dead was a cold stone rattling in her brain.
She stopped to look back when they reached the first bend in the winding street. Several men in black armor pushed their way through the crowd - Zagdorf's one-eyed sergeant with them.
"Into this alley," Rip said. "It'll take us down to the dock area."
Yohan scowled over his shoulder. "We've just come from there!"
"Could be safest," Gisel said. "Let's find a tavern with a room to rent - get ourselves spruced up for the Misikers."
"But how will we get past these watchers?"
"I'll think of something - let's make plans as we eat. Bulli Durfen's cold dripping and oatmeal breakfast is rolling about like a boulder in my belly."
The landlord of the third dockside tavern they entered had a parlor for rent, although the rest of the building was thronged with out-of-work sailors and uniformed militiamen. They took it for an hour and called for hot water to bathe. Rip looked at such a strange request as he would at a three-headed calf and smiled when Gisel sent him outside to keep watch. Yohan wedged a chair against the door for Gisel to have a quick strip-wash. On the wall above the washstand and its porcelain bowl was a large brass tray with almost all its pattern erased by generations of polishers. It served her as a crude mirror. Yohan busied himself with the view from the window as she washed, pointedly staring at an array of polished horse brasses, and some dirt-stained pictures on the walls.
Once, his reflection in the brass tray revealed his glance lingering on her back as he swung toward the window. She would have turned to grin, his controlled maleness was growing on her, but she didn't want to scandalize him. He did regard his betrothal rather seriously, and she'd best stay out of it. When she cleaned herself up, Gisel restored her beard disguise and sat hunched over her radio in the corner while Yohan washed. Then they emerged to see what food could be had.
"Three meat pies, landlord!" Gisel called across the noisy throng of soldiers.
He stared for several moments, obviously trying to relate her to the young bargee he'd rented the room to. "Three, sir? That'll cost 'ee two thalers. Meat be hard to come by in this turmoil."
"Yes, three. One for my boy - big ears and squinty eyes. Have you seen him?"
"He'm out front in the alley Meister, I'll have the pot-boy fetch'n."
Three of the militiamen took up their fifes and began a lively tune. A couple of sailors danced barefoot on the planks of a trestle table.
"Good tune, good tune," Gisel said loudly. "Landlord - a full mug for each bandsman."
"There be a dozen of they, sir."
"Good. Let's hear them all play."
A serving wench brought their meat pies on a wooden platter. Rip wolfed down his in a trice and then joined the sailors dancing on the table. Yohan and Gisel savored theirs after the hard morning's work. When the whole band, fifes, tabor and side drums, struck up a military march, Gisel had an inspiration. "I'll warrant you lads would like a few draughts before you go on parade," she said when the tune ended.
"Aye, Meister. A bandsman's is a thirsty job," The man with the tabor said.
"Perhaps you'd care to do the city a service first, and I'll stand you a whole keg."
Yohan regarded her with a quizzical stare as the militiamen assented.
"How much for a keg of your best, Landlord?"
"Forty thalers, Meister."
"Here you are." Gisel leaned across the counter before turning to the bandsmen. "Now - here's what you must do to earn it. My friend and I need to get to a mansion up the hill, but the crowds are so damned thick we can hardly move. If we had military band march up to the Margrave's home t'would do all the people's spirits a power of good. A lively tune or two would stir that gentleman's heart too. What do you say?"
"Sounds a treat."
The militia soldiers looked up. "We'll come too. Respec' for the Margrave," one said.
"Fine. Rip, find a couple of porters to carry our bags - and you must know a hundred street urchins - why, we can have a whole parade."
"That we would."
Yohan started to laugh. "Zagdorf's men will have a fit!"
"I hope so. Leading a patriotic crowd - they daren't stop us."
When they reached the Citadel Street, Yohan looked behind. They'd gathered a fine crowd, but would it be enough to dissuade Zagdorf's men? The bandsmen, the half-company of militiamen, and the two porters they'd hired had been joined by beggars, street people, refugees looking for billets, and a host of homeless urchins. They filled the street from side to side and stretched back beyond the last bend in the direction of the docks. When they reached the intersection where the wagon had tipped, the black armored Kachupin retainers formed up across the street. The one-eyed sergeant and his men scanned the crowd. Gisel - marching at the front, waving her rapier like a bandsman's baton - ordered a louder tune and marched straight at them. They stood fast a moment, then fell back before they were swallowed by the crowd.
Gisel led them to the iron railings in front of the Margrave's mansion and jumped onto the stone plinth of the nearest iron gate. She signaled for the men to play louder.
The penetrating whistle of the fifes and rattle of the side-drums echoed from the facades of the buildings that hemmed them in. All the windows in the street opened as the occupants leaned out to see what regiment was marching past. Across the street, Yohan saw a group of footmen and residents emerge from the Misiker mansion, to stand and gape from the top step. As Gisel signaled a close with her rapier she glanced down the street at a group of soldiers beside a doorway. Zagdorf and his Kachupin ally stood with half a dozen of their men. They scowled and turned away as she waved.
Yohan started to laugh, but then his mirth died. Fooled them once, but what about next time? The tune came to an end.
"A rousing cheer for the Margrave!" Gisel called.
A thousand voices lifted.
"Thank you for your playing, lads. Now go back and enjoy that keg of ale."
The bandsmen replied with laughs and eager voices, and quickly turned about. The throng in the street looked up expectantly. Gisel reached into a bag she carried, tossing out handfuls of small coins. They walked out into the street amid the immediate melee of beggars, urchins and street people, who scrambled to pick them up. Yohan went up to the iron gates opposite and called to the watchers on the step. "Let us in! I'm Yohan Felger from Lingdon, come to call upon Gerd Misiker."
Two footmen hurried to the gate. "Be thee expected, Meister?"
He reached up and closed his fists about two of the ornamental bars. "No - but I'll damned-well be remembered if you don't look sharp!"
The footmen stared at Yohan and Gisel's weapons as they reached for the iron bolts, hesitating until a voice sounded from the doorway. "Hurry yourselves men, I'd recognize Meister Yohan anywhere. I'll send word to the Meister that you're here."
As the gates swung open for them, the elderly retainer, dressed in a faded livery jacket and wearing a very modest periwig, hurried forward in greeting. He clasped Yohan's hands in both of his and shook them vigorously. "It's been so long, young Meister. You remember me?"
"That I do, Wannace." Yohan put an arm about his shoulders. "You took me to the docks when I was here as a boy."
"Aye, Meister Gerd assigned me to your father's service that year. T'was a great pleasure too. Your father and mother - they are well, I hope?"
As they walked across the narrow forecourt, Gisel placed a coin in Rip's hand with a wink to send him out of sight, paid the porters, and gave instructions to the footmen to handle their baggage with proper care. "Don't drop anything," she said. "It could explode."
They stared wide-eyed, their gaze flitting from Gisel to the bags and back again. More servants came down the steps to escort them in, and a small group in better dress preceded them into the house.
"The mansion's nigh full of Misiker cousins and distant relatives," Wannace explained, "come in refuge from the countryside and rumors of war."
"Well, I hope room can be found for two more visitors," Yohan said. "We've come through great hardships to get here."
A gentleman in a powdered periwig came to the head of the stairs as they entered the wide marble foyer. "Holy Fire! Yohan Felger - this is most unexpected. Please wait upon me in the library - I'll be down in a moment."
"You recognize the master?" Wannace asked.
Yohan stared up at the man's back, as he turned back into a doorway. "I . . . think so."
Wannace ushered them to the library. Two family members, already seated there, looked up at their entrance. The elder stood and put aside the book he was reading to greet them. The younger, a lad of about sixteen or seventeen, regarded them with a disdainful scowl and returned to his folio. "I'm Rolf, the Meister's brother," the elder said. "Did I hear the name Felger?"
"Yes," Yohan thrust out his hand. "Yohan, Yakob Felger's son."
"Pleased to see you again, though I have to admit I don't remember you. You must have been a child...what year was it?"
"Thirty-six, I believe,"Yohan answered, glancing toward the youth who ignored them.
"Don't mind him," Rolf said. "That's Ylrich, my brother's youngest. Did I hear a military band outside? The city's full of soldiers, frights, and midnight alarms."
Gerd Misiker's entrance removed Yohan's need to reply. The head of the Misiker bank was tall and slim, with a pointed beard and a strand of greying hair peeking from under his wig. He stepped to Yohan and embraced him quickly. His grey-blue eyes then scanned them both, regarding the two travelers intently. "You picked a devil of a time for your journey."
Yohan indicated Gisel. "This is Galen Brough. My bodyguard for this dangerous mission."
"You are here upon a mission?"
"I am, but I'd rather not give you details of it now...I hoped to find the Baron here."
"Then you must surely be disappointed. We've not heard from him since he left us six weeks ago."
Yohan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After all the hardships and dangers they'd gone through - he was not here! What now? "It seems our journey is not over. Which way did he go?"
"Ah, he did not say. You'll stay and rest yourselves awhile, though. Perhaps we'll receive word in a day or two that will tell us the Baron's plans."
"I hear the mansion's full. Have you room?"
"I can always find room for you, lad. I've told Wannace to have the Brothers' Room made up." He looked toward Gisel. "I'm not sure where to put your companion - "
"Galen's more than a retainer," Yohan said, "We've come through some terrible times and learned to value one another's qualities. I'd not like to think him billeted in some crowded menservants' garret."
"He looks like a . . ." Misiker began, regarding her rapier and its sash with a raised eyebrow, "professional assassin. But if you vouch for him...that's good enough for me. There's room for you both in the Brothers' Room ."
Yohan opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. Gisel didn't lessen his confusion by grinning at him. They should not be sharing a room here but what could he do? He'd given his word to Lerris Garriker that he'd keep Gisel under observation.
"Ylrich," Gerd Misiker said, rounding on the lad. "Get up out of that chair and pour glasses of fortified wine for us. Where are your manners, lad?"
Rolf Misiker spoke up in answer to the quizzical expression on Gisel's face. "The Brother's Room is empty because my brother's eldest boys are away with the fleet. May the Holy Flame watch over them."
"Amen," Yohan responded and then turned toward Gisel. "The Meister's heirs are twin sons. They must be all of twenty-five now."
"Twenty-six," Gerd Misiker said. "Well, Ylrich, hand around the wine!"
Ylrich had poured glasses for them all but after he'd handed the Misikers and Yohan theirs, left the last standing on the side table.
"The retainer may fetch his own," he said. "I wait upon no servants or hired killers."
Yohan felt a flash of anger, but before he could speak Gisel chuckled. "If a beardless child is my only antagonist in Lubitz, I'll not complain. Perhaps Meister Ylrich might like a few pointers from me while I'm here?"
"I own no need for lessons in steel."
"Then, lad, I envy you. Would that we all could say the same."
They made small talk as they drank their wine and when they finished Rolf Misiker moved to his nephew's chair and placed a hand over the boy's folios. "Come Ylrich, I think your father has more private questions for our guests."
"I've not finished my reading."
"Then you shall do it later."
"Father - ?"
Gerd frowned. "Your uncle is right. Please leave us now."
When the door closed, Gerd Misiker pointed them to seats and sat on a plush divan facing them. "I do have some questions - and observations."
"Observations?" Yohan said.
Misiker smiled. "The name Galen Brough is familiar to me, but this is not the same Galen Brough who came on an errand for your father two years ago."
Yohan's heart skipped a beat. "Oh."
Gisel shrugged. "I'd rather not use another name for the present - if you'll indulge me the privilege?"
"We met Lerris Garriker on our journey," Yohan said. "He disbelieved the name as well, but accepted the use of it without clapping us in irons."
"You came by way of the army in the field?"
"We did - and by the Moonwald, and by the river, and Flame only knows what in between. We've been pursued by enemies since Brehafen."
Misiker looked from one to the other. "So that's the reason for the fife and drum band? It made for a great entrance."
"A Commandante Zagdorf - in the Emperor's service - was waiting to catch us in the street outside," Gisel said.
Gerd Misiker's expression became grave. "Then that tells me much. You must be a reckless young devil to come here to Lubitz at this time." He turned his gaze back to Yohan. "I believe I can guess the business that brings you looking for the Baron."
"You are likely correct," Yohan said. "But Galen's not here as an enemy. I gave my word to Lerris Garriker...I vouched for his conduct in the city."
Gisel leaned forward. "I wish the city no harm, but offer any service I can honorably give. I'm on a mission to search out a path to peace."
Gerd Misiker accepted her words in silence.
"The Emperor may not look kindly upon my errand," Yohan said, with a glance around at the book-lined walls," but it's my belief the Felgers and their partners may earn great profit by it."
"Even modest profit would be welcome at this time. Both the city and the Misiker Bank are close to ruin." Misiker looked steadily at Gisel as he said this. "I'm sure that's not news to you."
Gisel inclined her head. "In making war against an alliance, it's most effective to strike hardest at those least able to withstand it."
Misiker nodded agreement. "So Leki has deserted us...changed sides...and Lubitz is in an uproar of dissension and indecision. We've not coin enough to pay off our mercenaries - though they refuse to go out against our enemies without a payment of arrears. They swagger about the city eating and drinking up its scant resources - "
"None at all?" Yohan asked.
Misiker shook his head. "If I could lay my hands upon a thousand ducats I'd consider myself well off. The city pays its debts with scrip, which is discounted at fifty percent."
"And you really have no idea where the Baron is?"
Misiker shrugged. "He left in the direction of Thalia...said he'd not taken proper care of business there in the past. I doubt he'll come back to Lubitz now - we're all paupers whose surety for a loan is worth but a penny candle. No doubt he'd be besieged by requests for money if he showed his face."
"We'll have to leave for Thalia as soon as we've rested," Yohan said. "We've traveled often by night, and are very tired."
"Then you should take to your room until dinner. You have someone to meet later, of course."
Yohan's cheeks warmed. "Of course, Leijla. How does she?"
Misiker smiled broadly. "You shall see."
Their baggage was already in the room when they went up to it. Gisel looked around at the bright yellow walls, reflecting the afternoon sunshine streaming in, and the two canopied beds. It was the largest bedroom she'd seen in a while. Stuffed animal heads and hunting weapons hung on the walls, a compound bow over the empty fireplace was something Gengis Khan could have used. Trigon bows, was the name they called them here, perhaps the Misikers would know why. She plumped herself down on the bed nearest the window.
A young footman followed them in. "Can I bring water and basins, Sirs?'
"We refreshed ourselves at a tavern before coming to the mansion," Yohan answered, "but our best clothes could do with some attention before dinner."
"I'll take them to the seamstress if you'd care undress, gentlemen."
"We'll ring the bell," Gisel said, jumping up to open the glass doors that served the room as window. She stepped out onto the balcony beyond and looked down into the garden, its rose bushes alive with the first blooms. They were on the second storey, in the rear of the mansion.
Yohan joined her as the footman left. "I thought it best to let Gerd Misiker know - "
"Of course. You shouldn't deceive your future father-in-law. But you didn't tell him all the truth."
"I'm not sure how...Perhaps we'll not be here long enough for it to matter."
"I think we'll be here longer than you think."
"Really? You've learned something from Iskander?"
"Let's say I've been putting two and two together. I picked up a message this morning while you were bathing."
"What did you learn?"
"You understand Iskander doesn't spy upon its friends, but I asked them to conduct enquiries in Tarnland."
She gazed out across the city and at the well tended garden below. Its high walls were topped with broken glass to keep out intruders. Misiker may have been brought close to bankruptcy by the war, but this was still a small fortress for a rich family. Beyond the mansions to her left she could just see a part of the curtain wall of the Citadel and the muzzle of a cannon placed to intimidate discontented citizens in the streets below. Lubitz may be shaken, but held enough power to keep up appearances for months. Her mission could help end a long drawn-out bloodbath.
She turned to lean against the balcony rail. "Autarch Wazda asked us for a substantial sum of money last month - out of the bullion we had aboard Stellar. Partly a loan and partly money we owe him for services. He offered no explanation but it would seem he's had to pay off part of the money he borrowed at the start of the war - around half a million ducats."
"You think the Baron...? Surely he'd not loan money to both sides?"
"Come now, Meister, let's not be naive. Who else would be handling that kind of money?"
"Half a million! Where would he take it?"
"A damn good question. I expect he's still looking for a good answer. The message says the Autarch entertained a secret visitor at the palace for about a week. That visitor left several days ago aboard a Frendlish ship - likely one of your Felger vessels."
"Then he's on his way home! We've come upon a fool's errand."
"Perhaps that's what he plans, but the Whones are stopping and searching every ship that passes through the narrows." She smiled at him. "Except ours that they can't catch."
"He daren't come to the Emperor's notice with a load of Iskander silver."
"Exactly. So - where do you think he'll go?"
Yohan put up a hand to scratch the back of his head. "Either here or Thalia."
"One place is the home of friends he can trust - but it's blockaded by a fleet and close to military collapse. The other is a lesser-known quantity - as Gerd Misiker says - a place where he's not taken care to know people in the past."
Yohan spread his hands wide. "Then I can't guess what he'll do. He cannot sail around with the money forever - somehow he needs to get it overland to Wasbia or to one of the safe bank branches."
"Yes." Gisel pondered a moment. "I wonder why he didn't try to contact Iskander while he was in Tarnland. He could easily have called upon the Embassy or asked to visit the steelworks."
Yohan shrugged and returned to the room. "He didn't think he needed outside help."
"Either that or he's already decided against any double game."
Yohan sat on the bed nearest the door and sighed. "There's little point in speculating so far ahead. I still have to find and speak to him. What he decides to do with my information is beyond my control."
Gisel nodded agreement. "My guess is he'll leave the bullion aboard the ship while he investigates. I think he'll land along the coast and come to Lubitz in secret - I doubt Gerd Misiker would tell us."
"So we stay - and keep our eyes open."
"Right, Meister. But don't expect me to keep my eyes open much longer today. That's a grand bed you've found me, and I mean to catch up for the last week."
He gave her a 'little-boy-lost' look. "There's one other thing I'd like you to do first."
Gisel came back into the room and took off her sash and rapier - throwing it onto her bed. "A favor?"
"I'd like to let my father know I've arrived in Lubitz. Can we do that through your Embassy in Lingdon?"
"I'll pass that message for you when I call in. I'll be able to raise one of our ships offshore on the blockade."
"I'd rather he didn't know I've traveled with you."
Ahah, he remembers I'm not a man. About time. "You don't have to spell it out - if the message comes through Iskander - "
"Suggest I'm with a male officer."
"Right. You keep that thought too. Go to the balcony and stare out across the city while I undress and get into bed. I'll let you take care of the footman."
Gisel entered the crowded dining room in the evening with Yohan and Rolf Misiker. She soon realized the Misikers intended to place a substantial meal before their refugee relatives, despite anxiety about the war and the need to conserve the city's food supplies. Everyone took their place at the long dining room table as Wannace lit the last candelabrum. The mirrors on the walls reflected the multitude of yellow flames and the bright colors of the diners' clothes like a kaleidoscope. Yohan, in his fine brocaded waistcoat, took the place of honor at the head, on Gerd Misiker's right hand. Gisel, wearing the satin Empire sash without her rapier, sat near the foot among the younger cousins.
Many of the female family members strove to catch this interesting swashbuckler's attention whenever Lady Jenn, Rolf Misiker's wife who'd been placed at the center to watch over them, looked away. Gisel was pleased to note that women in Lubitz were expected to speak in company - maybe this was a city she could live in comfortably. In better times. The numerous children of all these relatives had been directed into the breakfast room and high pitched cries and laughter echoed down the hallway. Gisel figured there were forty Misikers in the room, with even more expected in the next few days.
There was but one vacant place left as the soup was served. Gisel noticed everyone's eyes on the doorway for Leijla Misiker to make her appearance at the table before her future bridegroom.
Conversation around the table soon focused on the turmoil in the city. Gerd Misiker had been expelled from the Committee for Public Safety - a political manoeuvre by his opponents. The Committee, Lady Jenn explained to Gisel, was the de facto city government in these years of crisis. Worse, it seemed that now the same faction was attempting to have a resolution passed in the Hundred to bar him from occupying his seat there.
"The Hundred," Lady Jenn said, "is Lubitz's elected body."
A tall, gaunt cousin looked up from his empty bowl. "Did you hear that Bellis is imprisoned for treason?"
"Who's Bellis? Be he a relative?"
Gerd Misiker glanced down the table toward the elderly gentleman who had asked the question. "Swordbearer of the Hundred, Cousin Merik."
"They mean to hang him!" the gaunt cousin said.
Many other voices chimed in. The footman who leaned over the table, setting out the next course, pulled back as speakers twisted in their chairs, waving their arms to emphasize their words. So many talked across one another that Gisel gave up trying to identify most speakers.
"Hang, draw, and quarter!"
"It's that damned Svart Kachupin's doing," Rolf Misiker said.
"Surely it'll never happen." Gisel did recognize Cousin Merik's voice.
"Don't be so sure," Gerd Misiker said. "The voices of reason are silent these days."
An elderly lady to Gisel's left raised her head. "What did he do? It must have been some terrible fault."
Gerd Misiker slammed down his knife. "Nothing - as far as I can determine - save disagree with the faction of the day."
"Who is in control?"
"Who indeed?" came another voice.
"One faction promotes the total destruction of Leki, for its defection," Rolf Misiker explained loudly to Yohan. "Then another holds our best course is to ignore them and look to our own safety. There's even a faction which advocates abandoning our colony in Tarnland to its fate and bringing our troops home."
Gerd smiled grimly. "Of course, with a blockading fleet sailing off our harbor, any course seems hard to accomplish."
Gisel saw Yohan raise his head in her direction. She turned away to smile at one of the prettier country cousins. Don't let anyone associate me with Iskander - smarten up Meister.
"There are those who urge the Margrave to invite an Imperial army to enter Lubitz - "
"And those who reject continuing the war," ventured a voice from half way down the table, "and doing as Leki has done..."
The room fell silent at these words. Nobody dared look towards the man who'd uttered them except Gisel, who noticed he turned his head away as if pretending not to have spoken.
Gerd Misiker searched out Gisel down the table. "You must find all this talk of our war boring."
"Not entirely, Sir. I have served in combat."
"What would others do in this circumstance? Try to crush revolt in Leki, or call upon the Empire and the Whones to make a commitment toward our security?"
"I'm not sure how they'd accomplish that, Meister," Gisel said. "As long as Leki is garrisoned, not even friends may advance an army to Lubitz."
"True. No army can leave an untaken fortress in its rear."
"It's almost as if the Iskanders made the move to isolate us," someone murmured.
A movement at the door cut off further conversation. Without raising her eyes from the floor, Leijla Misiker entered the room and took her seat opposite Yohan. Gisel guessed her to be about sixteen, with a clear, fair skin which bore a faint blush as she shook her golden blonde hair away from her face. She wore a very simple emerald-green dress that accentuated her voluptuous figure. She raised her eyes momentarily to glance at her mother. They were a luminous blue-green set in a face of unusually symmetrical perfection. Gisel knew without looking that Yohan was spellbound at the sight of her.
"The officers of the Hinterland Regiment say their troops are close to mutiny," one of the older male cousins said as conversation resumed. "Is that true?"
Rolf Misiker sighed. "They've not been paid for several months."
"No doubt they're anxious to return to their own homes. They must fear the ravages of the Iskander cavalry."
"A gang of mercenaries robbed a jeweler's shop last night, I heard."
Cousin Merik wagged his table knife. "It seems the city hardly has need to proclaim the curfew. Who would be foolhardy enough to venture forth at night?"
"Enough sorrowful news." Gerd Misiker raised a hand as the footmen began tiptoeing around the table, lifting the empty dishes and laying gilt-edged platters for the main course. "I wish to welcome my future son-in-law here with pleasanter conversation. I hope he will consent to tarry here a while, before he continues upon his journey."
"I think I can stay for several days," Yohan said, his ears glowing red.
"Excellent. Then you will have the opportunity to renew your acquaintance with your future bride. Leijla, look this way please - and perhaps venture yourself a smile. I'd be pleased to have Yohan note your beauty."
"I can hardly not."
"If times were not so perilous, I'd ask you to stay a month." Gerd Misiker looked across the table to his wife. "Could we not make the wedding arrangements within that time?"
Leijla leapt to her feet, scattering her wineglass and cutlery, and colliding with the footman attempting to lean over her chair with a slice of roast beef. With a loud and heartrending sob, she turned and fled from the room.
"By the...!" Gerd Misiker said, half rising to his feet. "What was that about?"
"The child's shy," her mother said, rising from the table to follow.
Rolf Misiker gazed toward the door. "Shyness? I'm not so sure..."
"Meister Galen," one of the older cousins called to Gisel. "What think they of the Tarnland war in Lingdon?"
She glanced down the table at Yohan before answering. His face held a ruddy glow as he stared at his plate. He was bound to bombard her for an explanation as soon as they were alone.
"The Lingdoners look, of course, for their own advantage," Gisel said. "Ships which would have traded this way into the Inland Sea are now sailing to the Kosmoneos. Your ships have lost that trade."
"Is it safe? Are there not pirates?"
"We travel armed, in convoy."
Yohan rejoined the conversation. "Galen has served as officer of marines on such a voyage. I've learned much of military art and how to guard one's own security from him on this journey."
Ylrich spoke up for the first time. "No doubt he could use his experience to earn a living as a footpad or a highwayman. I'd hate to see the Misiker family rely upon the art of a murderer in such a way."
Yohan colored in anger. "If my companion has killed any man, it was done in honor and from necessity. I wish I had the courage to do as well..."
Gisel sought his eye down the table and shrugged. She wasn't about to bother herself about the young man's opinion of her, though she wondered at its source. Surely such animosity must be founded upon more than an unfavorable first impression.
Dinner continued for an hour longer, although the conversation broke up into several knots about the table. The young country cousins plied Gisel with questions and much pretty repartee intended to demonstrate their smart city sophistication. After dinner, cards were brought out and Gisel smiled when the game turned out to be a parlor version of Demons' Choice. She won twenty thalers, while Yohan lost as much, good-naturedly, to several of the cousin's wives.
Pleading travel weariness, they retired soon after the drink decanters were brought around. Gisel promised to play cards the next night to give her opponents the opportunity to win their money back.
At their room, Yohan hardly gave her time to pull the sash over her head. "What was wrong with Leijla? Can she hate me so much - and why?"
She stopped and looked at him. Did he suppose the girl liked being dealt out to a family friend, like a seven of nobles? "It's too soon for me to tell, Meister. I'd need to know the girl better."
"But you must have a woman's knowledge - "
"I'm not psychic."
"Am I ugly? I'm not a rich man yet, but surely she can see that I will easily provide a home for her that any woman would envy. I'm healthy and strong - surely she cannot despise my appearance."
"No - not since I scraped off your awful moustache."
He put a hand to his smooth upper lip. "Say not another word about it! You've twitted me about that ever since the evening on the Brook Steps."
Gisel grinned. "It's been frightful that long."
"Please be serious. What reasons can she have for dreading our marriage?"
Gisel shrugged; hundreds. But perhaps there was something more to her reaction than simple maidenly reserve. "She's little more than a child. Perhaps you're wasting your time looking for a logical cause for her outburst."
Yohan snorted. "Now you're deliberately putting me off, teasing me with a man's sentiments."
"You'd like me to speak to her?"
"Yes, as a servant you'll be able to meet her without a chaperone."
"I'll do my best."
Yohan began to undress but turned around abruptly. "I've been thinking - Zagdorf knows you're here."
"He saw us arrive - but it's not certain he knows who I am. I don't want to bring trouble into Gerd Misiker's house."
"It's not just the Misikers I'm worried about."
"Thank you, Meister."
He shrugged. "Concern's all very well, but what can we do about it?"
"I don't think he's going to denounce me."
"What gives you that idea?"
"For one - he could have already done it by now. He doesn't want me arrested in the city - he has plans for me elsewhere. The Emperor would like nothing better than a captured Iskander officer. If he can take me alive, he'd have a hundred answers to torture out of me."
Yohan turned his face away. Gisel saw his hands shake and didn't want to witness his distress; she opened the doors and stepped onto the balcony. "I think I'll stand outside for a while, I need to think."
"All right," Yohan said in a faint voice. "Don't make noise when you come in - I'm exhausted."
She stood silently looking down into the garden until she heard Yohan get into bed. Then she set up a small yagi antenna and pointed it toward the night horizon where the Iskander ships patrolled. When the screen showed a strong contact signal she leaned over and spoke quietly into it. "Admiral Norris please - this is Gisel Matah in Lubitz."
When Norris answered from Stellar's Control Center she glanced briefly back at the room to satisfy herself that Yohan was asleep. "What's the situation at sea, Admiral?"
"The enemy fleet's left Havencoben," Norris replied. "I can't risk going far to meet them, with both Lubitz and Leki to cover, but I suspect their orders are to attack us."
"Are there Lubitz warships in the fleet?"
"Yes. We put some captured seamen in the way of the Lubitz flagship with word that they should sail for home. They didn't take the bait."
"How long before the fleets meet?"
"I don't intend to avoid action - I've two of our seventy-fours with me. It'll depend upon the enemy admiral's manoeuvring and the wind. Say two days - three at the most."
"The political situation in Lubitz is near anarchy, it might take only one more reverse to push people over the edge."
"Good. I aim to win more than a reverse."
Hmm, maybe not so good. She was in the middle of it. "Do you have time for Stellar to carry out a mission here before the action starts?"
"If you're ready tomorrow. What did you have in mind?"
"Those pamphlets I discussed with President Scopes."
"I have them here."
"And you still have bullion to spare aboard the Stellar?"
"We're carrying a large sum of money to settle Leki's soldiers' pay."
"Can you have the SEALs come in with the submersible tomorrow night? I'll pick out a place to meet them and call you by mid afternoon. If you can send about ten thousand ducats in silver - divide it into thirty pound loads."
"Can do. Does Scopes know what it's for?"
She grinned. "Not yet. I'm buying allies - he knows that tactic."
"Hmm. Anything else?"
"Send a message to Lingdon...for Yacob Felger. Arrived Lubitz - Yohan. Colonel M'Tov knows where to send it."
Just after dawn, Zagdorf took three of his troopers with him, pushing through the noisy mob as they surged through the main gate and onto the execution field. Citizens stared and muttered against them, believing their disguise - that they were mercenaries. But no civilian dared stand their ground or speak out. He sneered at their disapproval. Learn to love our might, fools - soon you will be glad to bow down to the Empire's Golden Orb banner. Even the pathetic Wolk Kachupin - who will feel even greater dismay than these - will be ruled by the proconsul the Emperor appoints to the city. If he were successful here, it could be him - but was his operation against the Iskanders worth more in the long run? He must get this Lubitz business done with - then he could deal with the spy at the Misikers.
Another detachment of mercenaries marched out of the gate and took position at the edge of the execution field. Not a Kachupin retainer in sight - it told him plainly that the Emperor's allies were yet too weak to take control of the city.
This execution was Kachupin's idea, but the man feared to announce his part by being present. Being delegated to watch some poor wretch hung, drawn, and quartered was nothing to a soldier of the Empire - he'd seen plenty. He could easily gauge the reaction of the crowd. An easy task. If the mob accepted the judgement and its penalty without violent protest he could push the Kachupins into the next phase of their plan. What soured his mood was the contempt he felt for creatures who hid behind legalistic fictions instead of standing firm, like a soldier on the battlefield, and conquering enemies as men should.
The executioner's assistant flung the rope over the arm of the gallows, then swung by his arms to test it. He laid out the axe, cutting knives and basins on the grass. This would be a messy business, but that's what Kachupin wanted. This was all about instilling fear, not justice.
Movement in the gateway attracted the crowd's attention - a group of citizens, some Members of the Hundred, and a troop of mercenaries appeared, dragging the prisoner with them. Zagdorf smiled, recognizing the leader of the mercenaries, a man he'd served with on other campaigns. He nodded for his men to follow as he pushed his way closer through the crowd.
The executioner bound the prisoner's arms and legs as he stood beneath the noose. The Spokesman of the Hundred stepped forward with a large parchment in his hands. "Citizen Bellis, found guilty of treason against the people and Hundred of Lubitz. Promoter of defeatist plots! Supporter of proposals against strengthening our army. Cheater who avoided payment of war taxes. Friend of our enemies. You are sentenced to die. Have you anything to say?"
"Citizens! You see here a great wrong - "
The Spokesman raised his parchment and shouted. "You may not plead! Your trial is over - you are pronounced guilty."
"My trial - a lie! The court - a travesty. Your evidence - "
One of the mercenaries knocked him to the ground with the butt of a musket.
The Spokesman leaned over Bellis. "Make your confession! Do you plead for forgiveness?"
Zagdorf couldn't hear the muffled reply. He managed to push close enough to the mercenary officer to pull the sleeve of his doublet. The man swung about, hand to his dagger.
"Nervous as ever, Grape-shot? Don't you recognize an old comrade?"
"Zagdorf! You will try me too much one day. What is your purpose here?"
Zagdorf half-closed his eyes. "The same as yours. Come with me for a word."
"I will. As soon as this business is done."
Zagdorf turned to watch the execution. The executioner drew the rope tight about the prisoner's neck. Three brawny fellows swung onto the free end, and hauled the kicking man into the air. His legs jerked; his face turned black; his body twisted like a fish on a line.
The crowd groaned. The execution party attempted a cheer, but it sounded like a sigh against the crowd. Zagdorf placed a hand on his rapier and stared about. Let just one of these sympathizers show himself above the crowd and he'd cut him down. By the Flame and Gods of War - he'd cow these weaklings on his own!
The Spokesman stepped beside the writhing figure and raised his voice to a shout. "This wretch questioned the authority of the Committee. He deserves to die! The Hundred found a letter from the Autarch of Tarnland in his house. All traitors must pay the penalty! You are called here to witness the judgement of your city - shall you speak up for Lubitz?"
The execution party led another cheer. It came a little louder than the first.
Zagdorf shook his head, unable to avoid speaking to his companions. "What pathetic conspirators. What amateurs."
The mercenary captain, Grape-shot, stepped closer. "Do you know of better?"
Zagdorf nodded. "Aye, and richer."
"Who has money in this pathetic place?"
"The Emperor."
"Here?"
"Not yet. But Duke Solerar has an army in Makberg."
"We want money now. Here. I don't kill for promises, Zagdorf."
"How much? How many men?"
"I have two hundred, other captains have companies almost as strong. A thousand in all."
Zagdorf considered the answer as he saw Bellis cut down. Four men carried the twitching body as the mercenary troop cleared an open space for the executioner. The hooded man raised a large knife above his head. He brought it down swiftly into the dying man's belly. A savage slice - this way and that - and the man's intestines spilled out into the bowls waiting on the ground.
"Hold your men back, Grape-shot. Make them be patient."
"For how long?"
The executioner and his assistants bent over the corpse with their knives. First one piece of the condemned man's body was lifted up, then another - a leg still dripping blood. The axe raised up above the heads of the crowd. It came down in a silver arc.
"Give me five days - maybe a week. I have a man who can pay."
"Kachupin? He's a fool."
"A fool with powerful friends. A hundred thousand ducats. Think of that, Grape-shot."
The Members of the Hundred and their citizen followers marched to the city gate. One man held up Bellis' head on the point of a pike. Zagdorf and Grape-shot followed at a distance. As they reached the gate the man stretched to impale the head on the hooks set to receive it. Then another group came through the gate, smaller than the mob but in a compact formation.
The Spokesman rounded on them. "You're too late, Misiker. It's done!"
"You murderers! You shall rue this day of infamy! Where are his remains?"
"Mean you to quarrel with ravens over them?" the Spokesman demanded.
"His head is there," the man with the pike shouted. "Much good it will do you."
"Take it down. Give it to me. This at least shall have a proper burial."
"You can have it - if you have strength to take it."
Zagdorf saw Gerd Misiker step forward, but a broad mercenary who towered above the crowd blocked his path. A smaller figure beside Misiker darted forward. The crowd parted as if from a fight. The big man went down like a log.
"By my mother's blood!" Grape-shot laughed. "That was neatly done."
Zagdorf craned to see who had felled the mercenary. Yohan Felger's height and fair hair stood out in their company. He made his shoulder a ladder for some smaller, dark haired fellow.
Grape-shot laughed again as this fellow grabbed the head and lifted it down. "These Lubitz men are very demons for foolish tricks. What a prize - a head still dripping eyes and blood!"
"That's not a Lubitz man."
Grape-shot turned to him. "You know him?"
"I thought I did, but the fellow I'd name died four days ago."
"But you think you know this one?"
Zagdorf shook his head slowly. "I must do, but I cannot own it."
"You do, and you don't. Is he worth money?"
"A lot of money - alive."
Gisel accompanied the Misikers as far as Bellis's home, where they handed the severed head reverently to his eldest son and sobbing widow. While Yohan and the Misikers stayed for further formalities and planning, she strode quickly back to the mansion to wash the blood from her doublet. They'd been too slow to oppose the execution - the Misikers meant well but they were not fighters. She'd never guided an insurrection before, but it looked as if she was going to learn.
When she reached Citadel Street she scanned for Zagdorf's watchers but saw none. Probably still at the execution field - good. The Misiker's footmen at the gate snapped to attention like royal guardsmen at her approach. She grinned and acknowledged them with a salute. The news of her supporting Gerd must have traveled fast through the city. The ladies of the household found her a velvet surcoat and a shining parade-cuirass to replace her soiled clothes. They pressed her to stay awhile and talk, but she wanted to go scouting while Yohan was still engaged with Bellis's supporters.
First she went for Rip, just down the street in the wooden shelter occupied by the carriers of the porter-chairs used in the city. One of the porters looked up from the bench where he dozed. "Want thee a chair, good sir?"
"Not today. I'm looking for someone."
"Here I am, Meister." Rip scrambled to his feet in the corner.
"Good. Come outside and walk with me." She'd better pay him off today - before Zagdorf noticed him with her. The kid could get killed. She'd thought to make use of him because he was a homeless waif, he knew his way around, but that didn't make it right.
He stared at her cuirass. "You a so'jer now?"
"It's borrowed, but I mean to make use of it. Do I look like city militia?"
"Like captain o' the guard."
"Zagdorf's men not keeping watch today?"
"Aint seen 'em - not since before execution."
"Did you find out where they're billeted?"
"They'm on a Whonmark ship moored in the river," Rip said. "The 'orses is in a barn outside the city."
"On a ship eh? That's interesting." She crossed the street with him at her side. "Rip, you do realize that Zagdorf's men could hurt you - kill you, even?"
"Nah, they got no call."
She stopped, putting out a hand to his arm. "I agree, but I think I should pay you for these few days and let you go back to your...well, to your friends."
"I aint good enough?"
"Of course you are - you're a real help. But I - "
"Then let me stay. Like I said - be yor esquire. If I goes back to the gang - we all goes 'ungry. No spare vittles these days."
"You're feeding them?"
He stared down at the ground. "I 'elps."
Damn. The kid wanted to stay, but she didn't want him on her conscience. She started walking again. "I can't protect you from Zagdorf - or the Kachupins. You understand that?"
"Course. Nobody ever pertected a street kid. Aint possible."
"You must take care. If enemies are around, we don't walk together like this."
"Sure."
"Never tell anyone you know me. If you think some spy is watching me, go the other way. I'll know something's wrong from that. Understand?"
He nodded. "I un'erstands. But you mean...I can still work for you? Like an esquire?"
She smiled. "Yes, I'll make you a midshipman - I still need your help. Point out this ship to me."
They took the first set of steps down toward the harbor. Rip walked several steps behind, but when they reached the street he caught up. This street was cobbled and wider than the one they'd climbed the day before. The buildings didn't meet in the arch overhead, but the linens and strings of washing suspended between the houses gave it the feeling of a tunnel. Several young women came out of a dimly lighted doorway. One grasped Gisel by the sleeve. "Come this way, Meister. I've something to show you."
"Stand off wench. I've no need for your bordello."
Rip grinned up at Gisel. "They'd get a surprise, wouldn't they?"
She did her best not to laugh. "You were told to forget that."
Lower down, the street narrowed to another flight of steps. The women here turned a faster trade among a group of drunken mercenaries. One of the men lurched from a doorway and fell down the steps almost at Gisel's feet. His friends staggered forward to retrieve him and glared up defiantly.
"I'sss a bloody officer!"
"I'll bet 'e don't lack for wages - Lord Death take all officers!"
Several more advanced toward her with their fists clenched.
She put a hand to her rapier hilt. "If I draw this, it'll not be sheathed without a corpse upon these steps."
A mercenary who staggered less than his fellows put out a hand to stop them. "Hold hard! I think he means it."
"Damn right. Stand aside quickly."
"Pass then, Meister."
"Have ye a coin for our thirst, Lord?"
"There's water enough in the harbor. It'll cost you nothing." She strode on down the steps, steeling herself not to look back. Rip couldn't resist. "They's not follerin' - but we'd best go back a diff 'rent way."
At the quayside Rip pointed out a medium sized pinnace flying a Whonmark ensign from the jackstaff. Several men moved about the deck, lowering empty water casks into a small boat alongside. She made a careful note of its position relative to the shore and the other craft crowded into the river.
"Okay, Rip, let's move on. Which is the quickest way to the East Anchorage and the shipbuilding yard?"
"Down 'ere past the battery."
They walked along a narrow way between a wharf and the city wall before crossing a drawbridge into the outer defences. The redoubt anchoring these works was one of three housing cannon to protect the harbor. They were not large cannon, but sufficient to sink small craft and longboats that might be used for an amphibious assault. In addition, two guardships lay at the harbor's mouth, where their sailors could conduct nightly patrols. The larger warship lay beneath the east battery while the other swung at anchor off the end of a sand spit fringing the river's mouth. Only Stellar's submersible could provide contact between her and the fleet - and after tonight Stellar would be away performing command and control for the imminent battle.
They walked further, into Lubitz's small shipyard. As she'd been told by the Misikers, the slips held four unfinished ships. Work had been suspended when war and lack of money interfered. Three of the vessels were planked, they'd become temporary homes for crowds of refugees from the countryside. Gisel walked over to the fourth, no more than a keel and a forest of propped-up ribs. Lacking any cover, it had not attracted any squatters and its slip was deserted. She took careful note and then went over to a small group of refugees huddled around a small cooking fire in the next slip.
"Is there no watch upon the shipyard?"
"Nay, Meister. Not as we's seen. You bain't disposed to turn us out? We've no place else to lodge."
"Your presence is no concern of mine. I want to find the officer in charge."
"There be a feller in yonder storehouse what keeps people away. Mayhap 'ee knows whom yer lookin' for."
Gisel walked over and hammered several times on the door with the hilt of her rapier. Eventually, several bolts were drawn and a chain rattled. The door opened a narrow slit. "Who wants me?"
"Captain Brough of the Harbor Patrol," Gisel said. "Where's the officer in command?"
The door opened wider and a thin faced man peered out, a pistol gripped in his hand. "Aint no officer 'ere - jus' me. Get away with ye!"
"Let me in!" She pushed the barrel of his pistol down with the edge of her rapier. "Damned blackguard - I'll have you flogged for impertinence."
"Enter then, Captain. I'm sure as I can't help ye."
Gisel gestured for Rip to stay and stepped inside. The warehouse held shipbuilding stores and tools. "Who are you? Who do you serve?"
"I'm Zeff, bailiff of the shipyard."
"Where are all the workers?"
"Ain't none. Everybody left when the city couldn't pay their wages."
"There are no sentries?"
"S'posed to be, but they'm mercenaries. Ain't seen them in a week."
"Does no one have a mind for these squatters?"
"They don't do no 'arm. Can't 'urt they ships nohow. Even if they burned there's none that'd care."
Gisel had learned all she wanted to know but continued on with the pretence of inspection. After seeing over the whole storehouse she commended the bailiff. "I will report your diligence to my superiors, Meister Zeff."
"Thank'ee Capt'n, but a few coins would do better. I han't been paid for weeks."
She handed him a couple of thalers at the doorway. "If you hear my name at the door again, I expect you to open up promptly for my business."
"Aye, Sir. But what shalt need?"
"I will tell you at that time, Zeff, but you may expect me soon." Very soon - the deserted slipway was exactly what she sought, and the storehouse itself could be useful in the days ahead.
She and Rip walked up the hill on the road connecting the shipyards to the city. They passed under the old walls through a dismantled gate. Beside it stood a vacant three sided tower overlooking the East Anchorage and Shipman Creek. They climbed the steps so she could check the yard and surroundings from the vantage point. A hundred yards along the wall to the south was another gate tower - this one manned by a troop of militia who inspected the traffic which came up the steep hill from a bridge over Shipman Creek.
"What gate is that, Rip?"
"East Gate, Missus. Leads to Thalia highway."
She looked it over a moment, a smaller road snaked back toward the Novrehan Gate between storehouses and stables. This was the quietest section of city wall. "I will want you here tonight. I also need a dozen street kids who will be of service and never speak of it."
"I can get 'em."
"And some stronger fellows to carry packs. Tell them all to keep the task a secret. I'll pay in silver - but I'll pay them with this rapier if they talk too much."
"Done, Missus. Us knows how to guard our mouths."
When Gisel returned to the mansion from the shipyard she found Yohan closeted in the library with the Misikers. She went to their room to call Stellar with arrangements for the rendezvous. Yohan came up an hour later. "I was hoping you'd have spoken with my betrothed by now."
"I was out. Rip showed me where Zagdorf's troopers are billeted."
"You should have waited for me. It's too dangerous for you to go out alone - especially now."
Gisel smiled. "I didn't find anyone who wanted to tangle with me. Have you and the Misikers decided what to do?"
"About what?"
"About the Baron. You were talking to them for a long time."
Yohan looked away. "We talked banking business."
Sure they did - she searched his eyes for signs of contradiction. His thoughts were well guarded - he was learning this business well, and she felt as gratified as if she'd intended teaching him. Let's see if he's as cool with his marriage prospects. "I could speak to Leijla in the garden."
"You mean...? Why she...?"
She answered only with one of her penetrating stares.
"I'll send her a message, right away."
Gisel toured the whole garden while she waited, checking out walls and possible hiding places. Some apple trees grew against the wall, their branches providing an easy climb to its top. At a sheltered place someone had carefully removed the broken glass. A small summerhouse stood nearby, the empty storage cupboards looked as if they hadn't been opened in years. When she emerged, she saw Leijla walking the paths in the company of her maid.
"Perhaps you'd step away over there," Gisel said to the maid as she joined them.
Leijla nodded to the maid. "You may do as he suggests, Emma. This will not take long. I have nothing to say to Meister Yohan's servant."
"The word is bodyguard, Mistress. I saved his life twice at least on the journey."
Leijla's eyes revealed her stubborn doubt.
"He's made a dangerous journey to see you. Perhaps you should show him that consideration."
"That's a lie - he's here on bank business."
"But you were often in his thoughts as he came. He spoke often of you."
"Be sure to thank him for his kindness."
"When betrothed as a child - as he was too - it's best to show one another kindness. He was apprehensive of the meeting, since he knows you not."
"He didn't seem distressed at the dinner table as he devoured me with his eyes."
"Ah well, he is a man. You have the misfortune to be very beautiful."
"Misfortune?"
"In my experience a woman's character and individuality are noticed by men only when she doesn't excite their passions. Tell me, what thoughts and interests do you have when you're not being shown off as a piece of prized merchandise?"
Leijla looked at Gisel with eyes full of curiosity. "You make strange conversation - for a soldier."
"Let's say I'm not all I seem to be and leave it at that. But you've not attempted an answer."
Leijla sighed. "I like music but was taught only enough to entertain a husb..."
She put a hand to her mouth to muffle a sob.
"It seems to me that Meister Yohan is not the husband you look forward to."
Leijla's eyes darted away to the apple trees.
"Where did you meet this other?"
Leijla turned away abruptly. "Leave me alone!"
"Your actions tell me much."
Leijla turned back and struck Gisel across the face. "You monster! You seek to trap me into saying things not true! How could I meet any man? My family keep me from every harmless entertainment!" She drew back her hand again and bunched it into a fist. "Don't tell Yohan these lies! Don't spread such - "
Gisel reached out to take her hand. "I saw the place where the wall can be crossed, but I shall keep your secret. I can help you. I don't want Yohan to marry you either."
Across the garden, Emma took several quick steps forward, but Leijla ceased to struggle. "You don't?"
Gisel opened her mouth for a plausible reason but thoughts came unbidden that swept it away. Why didn't she? Until this moment she hadn't given Yohan and his marriage a second thought - well, not a serious one. But she'd miss him, when this was over. "There's someone else...in Lingdon...who might suit him," she managed lamely.
Leijla's eyes brightened. "Kin of yours?"
"Let's say known to me."
"And what does he think of her?"
"That's hard to say - his thoughts have been focused on you all this time."
"But you'll help me? I'll tell you truly - I should die rather than be his wife!"
Emma rejoined them at this last. Maid and mistress exchanged glances that told Gisel they shared the conspiracy. She stepped away "We'll speak of this again. Remember, I should like to help you as a friend."
Leijla raised her eyes to Gisel's. "Then I thank you, Meister Galen. I truly believe I need a friend."
Gisel didn't relate her garden conversation to Yohan - she wanted to settle her own thoughts better before she discussed Leijla with him again. It wasn't hard to avoid doing so because he was out with Gerd Misiker until late, and - she guessed - had his own reasons to avoid talking to her. She would like to know where he went, but would bet gold it was to speak to someone who might know more about the Baron.
At midnight Gisel slipped out of the room and down a rope into the garden. A quick trip across the city, evading marauders and militia with her night vision goggles, and she was ready for the rendezvous. She'd barely settled her porters where they couldn't see the water when the upper works of the submersible broke the surface by the stern of the incomplete warship. She saw a few centimeters of metal hull above the ripples through her night vision goggles. "Right on target, Hannan," she muttered into her throat mike.
The top hatch opened and the upper body of a man emerged. An arm emerged from the water as one of the SEALs who'd come out the underwater hatch made ready to take the first bundle. Another SEAL glided smoothly into the shallows, an assault rifle gripped in one hand. The figure sat up in the water and pulled off the breathing mask.
"Over here, Hannan," Gisel called softly. "We're in a deserted building slip - there are no guards. The nearest locals are refugees, a hundred meters to your right in the next slip."
Hannan stood and pulled off her flippers before walking over. "Fair enough."
"Did you have any trouble getting past the guardships?"
"No, but they're on the ball. I swam over to the larger and made some noise. There was a small boat on the spot in minutes."
"I'll bear that in mind."
"Who else is on guard?"
"Only me, and a few urchins I pay to run my errands."
Hannan gave a silent chuckle. "They should call you Pied Piper instead of Wildcat. I'm only staying long enough to hand over the freight, you don't expect us to carry it do you?"
"I've help enough." Gisel stood up and tucked her assault rifle under her arm. "Have your guys set the freight on the edge of the slip."
She carried the bundles, one at a time, to the bigger youths Rip had recruited. Several grunted and complained at the weight. The lightest bundle contained the pamphlets she'd asked for. "Handle them carefully and shut your mouths," Gisel said to the lads. "The packs are full of gunpowder - that's why you'll get a whole thaler when it's safely stowed tonight."
When Hannan walked to the head of the slipway with her, Gisel handed her a sealed packet.
"What's this - Marc?"
Gisel nodded. "It's an MIA report."
"You don't know anything more?"
Gisel didn't trust herself to answer and Hannan looked away. "What's that building?"
Gisel followed her glance. "A storehouse, I checked it out today. There's a watchman, but I think we could easily take it over for our own use if we need to."
"What plan do you have?"
"None yet, but Zagdorf's here with twenty troopers watching out to catch me - it'd be nice to have reinforcements."
"Give me the word."
"Thanks, I will."
In fifteen minutes the shipment was unloaded and its weight replaced with water ballast. Hannan put her equipment back on, gave Gisel a maverick salute, palm to palm, and slipped back into the water. The craft submerged silently and Gisel joined her porters to start toward the dismantled gate. There'd been a night sentry, but he snored away the effect of Misiker's strong wine.
They stole silently back across the city, freezing twice in alleys as patrols went past. A gang of drunken mercenaries lurched out of a building and they squatted on the packs like street beggars. In the lane outside the Misiker garden Gisel freed her rope anchored in the apple tree and climbed to the top of the wall. The moon came out from behind the clouds as she scanned around with the night vision goggles. No one in the garden.
The lads latched each bundle to the hook on the rope, and she hauled them up and lowered them on the other side - releasing them with a pull on the string attached to the hook latch. Each time she let down the rope she tied the youth's thaler payment in a leather purse near the end of the rope. The last load was Rip's, the purse of coins heavier for him to pay off the rest of his helpers. He tugged the rope as a signal. "That's all."
"Good lad," she whispered back. "You've got the bundle of papers?"
"At the porters' hut."
"And the kids to help you?"
"They'll be here by first light."
Gisel pulled up the rope and climbed down. One at a time she carried the packs of silver coins into the summerhouse and hid them. Then she made her way to the clump of bushes beneath her balcony. Silently she climbed the rope hanging there and untied it from the balustrade. When she tiptoed into the room, Yohan was lying on his back softly snoring. As she undressed she stood looking at him in the shaft of moonlight that slanted in through the open window.
Why had she said that to Leijla today? What was he to her? He was a good man - one of the best she'd met on Gaia....He'd started noticing her as a woman...So? Nothing surprising there. But why was she making plans with his betrothed?
Ah well - nothing to fret about tonight. He'd be furious when he learned what she'd been up to while he slept.
Yohan preceded Gisel down the staircase to the breakfast room in the morning. The sounds of arguments and heated discussion met him before he entered the door, even ahead of the smells of bread and sausage. Inside, half a dozen Misiker cousins ranged around two others pulling at a sheet of paper. At the head of the table, Rolf and Gerd had their heads together in earnest discussion.
Voices rose from the throng. "There are spies in the city!"
"Surely not. Is Lubitz betrayed?"
"Who else can have spread these in the city?'
One of the Misiker cousins seemed intent on reading the sheet of paper while another snatched it away to wave above his head. "What say you, Meister Misiker?" the man demanded of Gerd. "These pamphlets were not here yesterday."
Rolf Misiker glanced away from his brother and raised two sheets in his hand. "These were pushed through the bars of our gate. When I went into the street I found another blowing down the road."
The cousin lowered the pamphlet for his companion to take. "There must be hundreds distributed - they're all over the city!"
Several more cousins and their wives entered the room, soon all of them chimed in with responses and exclamations. Yohan couldn't make out what the sheets said. He stopped on his way to the serving table and spoke loudly into the hubbub. "What do they say?"
"What do they say!" Gerd Misiker grabbed one up from the breakfast table. "Read it for yourself!"
Smoothed out, the paper handed him was of fine quality, the printing clear and sharp, not at all like the usual run of political pamphlets. The heading read, 'A Defense offered by the Citizens of Leki to their Brothers and Sisters, the Citizens of Lubitz'. This had to be Iskander's doing. Gisel slipped quietly into the room. She looked too innocent as she moved to the side table, to help herself to ham and fresh bread without so much as a glance at the turmoil.
"They're a devilish clever piece of writing," Gerd Misiker said. "Not a single threat. They spell out every possible advantage that would come to Lubitz if we do as they have."
His brother leaned forward. "And such advantages too! By this afternoon half the city will be clamoring for the Hundred to sue for peace."
Moving to the side table to find his own breakfast, Yohan stopped behind Gisel and bent close. "I expect an explanation."
"Not in public."
Yohan seated himself beside the two Misiker brothers and laid the pamphlet on the table next to his plate.
"This is the meat of it," Gerd said, pointing.
Yohan began to read, skimming some of the more flowery wording.
'Firstly: the restoration of civil law and jurisprudence has prevented the execution of Leki's Citizens without proper trial. Any deemed to have committed offences against the State and Citizens of Leki must be arraigned for fair hearing.'
The cousin who had waved the sheet about, leaned across the table. "You see that, Yohan? No quasi-legal murders such as took place here yesterday."
"I see it."
'Secondly: the civil government of the city is re-established with all its customary rights and privileges with sole power to administer the affairs and conduct of the City, without let or hindrance from allied powers.
Thirdly: a complete forgiveness of indebtedness to His Majesty the Autarch of Tarnland, his Subjects and Allies.'
Rolf placed a finger on the sheet. "Look at that! They have not attempted to deprive the city of its freedom. It's as if the war has been cancelled - and all forgiven."
'Fourthly: the receipt of a generous loan without interest from the Government of Iskander sufficient to quit all internal indebtedness and to begin reconstruction of injuries suffered in the recent war.'
Gerd spread his hands. "Where do they get the money to be so generous?"
Yohan wondered how much to say. "I was told the Iskanders have rich mines in the world; in locations the Emperor does not know."
Gerd Misiker regarded him silently. Yohan had told the Misiker brothers enough of his mission that they could guess the source of his knowledge.
Cousin Merik joined the conversation. "Of course, Leki pleads extreme suffering among their citizens to justify changing sides."
"And that much is true. With the capture of the Leki Regiment at Skrona they've suffered even more than us."
"The pamphlets insist they mean no malice towards the citizens of Lubitz!"
"Brothers and sisters in misfortune, they call us."
Merik rubbed his hands. "This may come to us over the name of Leki, but it's doubtless the work of Iskander."
Rolf shook his head sagely. "It's powerful provocation. Who can tell what fresh controversies it will engender?"
Gerd Misiker frowned. "This afternoon my defence comes up in the Hundred and I have to plead my case to be reinstated. What changes will this mean to the public temper? How will it affect the decision of the members?"
Gisel came over to look down at the pamphlet on the table. "I'd say it's safest not to express your own opinion. As your brother says, the citizens will form their own reaction to the document."
"And if events come to favor acceptance?"
"Come out strongly for it then. In the meantime, stay strictly on your own case."
"You're no novice to politics, Galen."
Gisel looked toward Yohan and smiled. "I'm from a political family."
Rolf Misiker's eyes flicked from one to the other. "I realize I'm missing something. As junior partner I'll wait patiently to be told, as usual." His gaze settled on Gisel. "What do you think of the content?"
"I've not had a chance to read it all - may I borrow this?"
"Really! I find that hard to believe." Yohan glared at her. "Meister, may I have the library for a private conversation?"
"You may, but I think I need to hear what you have to say."
"May I call for you after a few minutes?"
"Very well."
Yohan glared at Gisel and inclined his head toward the door. Another innocence act - like yesterday's conversation with Leijla. Just gaining her confidence, she'd said, 'nothing to tell you yet'. He'd have answers this time. When they entered, he closed the door behind them and let out his breath in an explosive snort.
"What do you know about this?"
"I've not had time to study it."
"I don't mean that - as you well know!" He groped for words. "I mean - what do you know about the distribution of these things? What part did you play in it?"
Gisel looked away. "Yes...I know I promised, but there was no time to discuss it."
"You deceived me!" He stood over her. It was all he could do to keep from taking her by the shoulders to shake her, but prudence told him not to try anything physical. "Just when I was beginning to believe I could trust you - you do something like this - "
"It was a matter of duty. I don't think the Bank or Lubitz will suffer from it."
"But you'd do it anyway!"
She raised her shoulders slightly, a suppressed shrug. "Yes...I suppose I would."
"Gisel - how could you?" He clenched his fists and then dropped both hands to his sides. "You have deceived me from the very first day we met! When can I trust you - when can I not? Or should I cease being such a fool and realize that you will always treat me as your dupe?"
She sought his eyes and held them. "I'm sorry, Yohan. Truly I am."
He stared back at her, interrogating her contrite expression. Was this more deception? But she'd used his name - for the very first time - did that mean anything? For all her teasing and trickery, he wanted to work with her again. It would be hard to keep a step ahead of her, but the alternative would be dull - even trivial. Iskander would dominate the world of the future with its knowledge. Believe her? He wanted to - but was it just another ruse?
"When did you collect the pamphlets?"
"Last night, while you were asleep."
"Dammit! Am I going to have to stay awake all night to watch you?"
"I have a replacement pistol for you as well."
"What tricks does this one have? It bewitches me into believing any lie you want to tell me?"
She turned her face away - he suspected to hide amusement. "No tricks at all. It's a perfectly standard naval issue."
He gave a non-committal grunt.
"I'll consult with you next time; when my own people's security allows it."
"Next time!"
She raised her hands as if she was about to grasp his, but then let them drop. "I see this is a difficult situation for everyone. I should leave the mansion."
Yohan shook his head vigorously. "It would be worse to let you loose in the city - besides I still need your help to find the Baron."
"What have you found so far?"
"Next to nothing."
"I've asked our people to search back through some satellite imagery to track the ship we think he's on - but there are no leads yet."
"What is sat...lite? Imagery...?" A loud knock came at the library door. "That's Gerd Misiker, I cannot imagine how he'll react."
"Let me speak to him."
Gerd Misiker entered and came across the room to join them. He turned a grim expression on Gisel. "I had taken you as more of a friend after your help at Bellis' execution yesterday. Am I correct to suppose you had something to do with these pamphlets?"
"I'm afraid so. But they're not the only shipment I received last night."
She took out a leather pouch from her belt and handed it to him. "You said a thousand ducats would make you feel well off again."
He poured the coins out into his hand. "Gold - but they're Iskander twenty ducat pieces. I daren't spend these."
"Call them a reserve - I'm sure a banker has ways to negotiate them."
"Am I to take this as payment for the use of my hospitality to subvert Lubitz?"
She looked contrite. "The pamphlets were ready to release into the city. If I'd not organized it, other means would have been used. I've already told my commander that it places me in such difficulty that I won't do it again."
Yohan snorted. "What game are you playing?"
"Proving Iskander's sincerity. I'll admit the propaganda sheets are explosive in Lubitz's present circumstances, but we're offering the best route out of the city's difficulties."
Gerd Misiker sighed. "You may be right, but I'm not reckless enough to take your bait. I don't want my head over the main gate instead of Bellis's."
"No more do I," Gisel said.
"I think I should take you out of the city immediately," Yohan said, "before you get up to something else. By the Holy Flame, why can't you be more circumspect?"
"The two of you are the only ones who know the truth."
Gerd Misiker walked to the fireplace and then turned around. "What about the people you paid to distribute these things?"
"They'll say nothing - they want to earn more for future services."
"And if one gets drunk...delirious...opens his mouth within earshot of the wrong person?"
"There's always risk in this business. But I think I can offer something that will earn the city's gratitude. Perhaps enough to keep my head on my shoulders if I'm found out."
Yohan's heart sank - not another trick. "What's that?"
"The Hinterland Regiment - how important is it to the city's security?"
Gerd Misiker clenched a fist. "Vital - they're the only troops we have to keep these damned mercenaries from murdering citizens or taking their pay in ransom."
"How much is the regiment owed?"
"Fifty thousand thalers would probably settle it. The mercenaries are owed ten times as much."
"I have the equivalent of fifty thousand, in used silver ducats, here in the city."
"You have it - in coin I dare circulate?"
Gisel nodded. "Call it an interest-free loan from the Kosmoneos Bank."
Yohan took hold of her arm. Not another intrigue - did she ever stop? "What else were you doing last night?"
"That's about it."
"I've never heard of a Kosmoneos Bank," Gerd Misiker said.
"It's new." Gisel grinned. "They've made me the first loan officer."
"You Iskanders are outrageous!" Yohan raised both hands into fists. "I think the Baron would be wise to keep his distance."
Gerd Misiker wasn't listening. "If I support my bid for reinstatement with the offer to produce the back pay of the Hinterland Regiment - I believe even the Kachupins will be silenced. When can you get it to me?"
"It's within your walls. We can collect it when the household retires for the night."
"By the Flame!" Misiker said with a shake of his head, "you're trickier than a fox. I should see you imprisoned, but after yesterday I feel I must do something to repay you for taking that ruffian off me. Your very presence in the house is a danger, but I am beset by dangers - as is the city. What would happen to Lubitz if your intentions here are realized?"
Gisel glanced at Yohan before she answered. "There will be a diplomatic contact - a truce perhaps - a chance to work towards a peace treaty."
"Terms as generous as you have given Leki?"
"Why not?"
Yohan stepped closer, staring down into her face. "What of the business you tell me Iskander wants with the Felgers?"
"Assuming the Baron agrees. I see this branch of the business as the direct link between our Tarnland operations and the rest of Europe. Lubitz was once a vital trade hub - it could become one again."
Gerd Misiker steepled his fingers. "I am prepared to take a chance on you. I can keep you secure here while you talk to the other families - I can offer Misiker support for the diplomatic contact. Lubitz has run out of choices, we must find a way to stop her bleeding money and young men's lives. But I cannot let you act in the city further without our prior knowledge."
"I will speak with Yohan before I do anything which might affect you."
Gerd Misiker hesitated a moment before offering his hand. "If all Iskander's agents are like you - no wonder the Emperor's best efforts have been confounded."
Gisel took it.
Yohan heard the admiration in Gerd Misiker's voice and thought it best to encourage it. "I came here in the company of their top agent."
"I believe it. What's your real name, sir?"
Yohan sought out Gisel's eye. What would she tell him?
"Lieutenant Matah," she said with a slight smile in Yohan's direction. "My father is director of the steelworks in Tarnland."
"Lieutenant Matah? And your given name?"
"That's Yohan's secret."
Gerd Misiker turned to look at him in surprise. "So you're not entirely innocent in this either? When I return from the Hundred we must have a longer talk."
An hour later, when they emerged onto the steps of the mansion, Gisel scanned for Zagdorf's men. At the far end of the street, where she could just make out the tall, iron reinforced gate, two black armored men marched back and forth in front of the Kachupin mansion. Three tradesmen carried wares down the street in baskets, and loitering in a doorway was a crop headed man who was neither beggar nor gentleman at his ease.
"Is it clear?" Yohan asked.
"I think I see one, but we'll ignore him. You start off down the street to draw his attention while I find Rip."
When Gisel and Rip caught up to Yohan he was walking toward the Gravhalle with one of the Misiker cousins. The cousin smiled at Gisel as if at an old friend. "We want to find a good place in the Hundred, to be present for Gerd Misiker's hearing."
"So did I, but there's a ship I want to see first."
"What ship is that?" the cousin asked.
"You didn't hear the rumors? Rip tells me a vessel succeeded in running the blockade early this morning. It's in the harbor unloading passengers and urgent dispatches."
"Really, I can't say it'd mean much to me, I'm a landowner, not a mariner. It's good to hear that someone can better these Iskanders though."
"What about you, Yohan?"
"Yes, all right. It must surely be a speedy vessel. We'll see you in the Gravhalle a little later, sir."
They exchanged bows with the cousin and changed direction to enter one of the back ways which descended to the harbor in flights of steps beneath the towering stone walls of the citadel. Even here, the refugees living amid their household effects stared at Gisel's rapier as if expecting to be robbed or threatened. She took care to wear a slight smile. Yohan looked down at Rip who had black circles under his eyes and yawned hugely.
"I suppose you were in on this midnight skulduggery?"
Rip looked toward Gisel and said nothing.
"He's my right hand man," she said with a laugh. "Right next to you."
"So where did you meet this boatload of pirates last night?" Yohan asked Rip as they clattered down a flight of steps in a tunnel formed by two overhanging buildings.
"Don't tell him anything," Gisel said. "I'll let him in on everything he needs to know, later."
"Right, Mistress."
"And don't call me mistress."
"Where's we goin'?"
"The Meister wants to see the blockade runner - and also the ship where Zagdorf's troopers are billeted. By the way - one's following us now. No - don't look around!"
"I di'nt see anyone."
"You wouldn't," Yohan said. "But if she says so, I believe her."
"What's we to do about 'im?"
"Nothing - as long as he's no threat. He's probably instructed to see where we go - there'd be more if they intended to interfere."
They came out onto the quayside between a bordello and a dark warehouse with its windows boarded. This was the point in the river where the anchorage for sea-going ships met the river docks, where wharfs and lighters handled the river craft docked to transfer cargo. Normally it would be a-bustle with valuable trade, but the reduced traffic of river barges was unloading at the junction beside the fortress-like Knight's Tower and its sprawling outbuildings, on the far side of the mooring basin.
Gisel stopped to gaze across the water. "What can you tell me about these Knights?"
Yohan began to speak in a monotone, sounding like the recitation of a lesson memorized years before. "The Knights of Dazel are a warrior order of Orthodox monks. They used to be the force that held the cities of the coast together, and their Knight's Tower here was the reason Lubitz became foremost of all those cities. But that was a long time ago - the order has degenerated and few lords send their sons away to serve with them these days."
"They's good for pocket money," Rip said with a laugh. "Fifty groats for a wench smuggled in for the night."
Yohan frowned. "See what I mean."
"So they have no power now?" Gisel asked, walking over to a low wall and leaning on it to look out at the silent ships in the river.
"Some. They still have a ship or two I hear. The Baron is a friend of the Grand Master of the Order, and much of the wealth they have left is invested with the Felgers."
"The ship you wants is one o' theirs," Rip said, climbing onto the wall to point. "See - comin' round the bend? That be it now, headin' to anchor below their tower."
A ship came slowly into view, towed by the oarsmen of two longboats, its sails furled and crewmen bustling about the decks coiling ropes.
As its hull emerged from behind two merchantmen anchored in mid-river, Gisel felt the shock of a painful memory "That's Zigany! One of the privateers that joined our action against the Imperial warships last year."
"Are you sure?" Yohan asked.
"How could I mistake it? I nearly died bringing it into port after the fight."
"You didn't tell me about your time at sea."
"And I won't now. But we had to subdue Zigany...the crew turned pirate. I was aboard to bring it into harbor. I didn't know they were monks."
"They wersn't all monks," Rip said. "Us heard the Knights give out the ship to go privateering."
"They did that," Gisel said, "but not against Tarnland. The pickings in the Kosmoneos drew them there. But let's get out of here before the ship comes abreast of us - there could be crew aboard who'd recognize the Wildcat."
They walked away in the direction of the river anchorage, further downstream. Gisel saw their tail come out from the shadows of the warehouse, fifty paces behind them.
"Who's Wildcat?" Rip asked.
"Never you mind. I'll pay you a Thaler to find someone to make inquiries about Zigany's crew - names and where they lodge."
"Fair enough," Rip agreed. "You'm scared they'll recognize thee. Be Wildcat your name?"
"I'll ask the questions, lad. If you need to know anything, I'll tell you."
"I think there are two men behind us now," Yohan said.
They walked on between bales and stacks of empty casks outside the warehouses as Gisel took a surreptitious look behind. "You're right. You're getting better, Meister."
Yohan glowered. "I'm not a complete fool. But what should we do about them?"
"What do you want to do? It might be best to let them gain false confidence - we're not going any place secret today."
They didn't stop at the Whonmark ship where the troopers were berthed. Gisel spoke as they walked along the quay. "The low built three-master with the covers of six gunports open, Meister. In mid-channel - take a quick look."
"Rolf Misiker mentioned the ship to me," Yohan said, as he glanced back over his shoulder at it. "It brought Count f'Doornam, the Whonmark Ambassador, to Lubitz."
"And doubtless was stranded here when the blockade began."
They walked away from the quayside and started up the same street Gisel had come down the previous day. The same lines of washing stretched across the cobbled thoroughfare, and the same whores came out into the street to entice them in.
"Get away from me!" Yohan said indignantly. "Shameless hussies!"
Gisel grinned at him. "The one hanging on your arm looks kind'a cute. Sorry to rush you but we'd best push on toward those steps; it's time we were at the Gravhalle."
As soon as the three reached the central square they heard shouting and saw a crowd of angry men on the steps of a massive stone building. Gisel stepped out across the empty cobblestone space, two hundred yards in width and framed by all the city's main administrative buildings.
"That's the Gravhalle," Yohan panted. "It looks like trouble."
Gisel didn't answer, she scanned the area for soldiers and for any sign of Zagdorf and his Kachupin allies. She could see a few black armored men at the head of the steps, and several men in arms watching from the balcony of a building across the square. A short distance from the disputants stood a company of soldiers under a grey-haired officer. They seemed strangely detached from the conflict, their halberds sloped at ease.
"Them's Hinterland Regiment," Rip said, almost running beside her.
"What's that place over there - with the armed men on the balcony?"
"That's City Hostelry, where posh folks stays. The place b'side it is Offices of th' Hundred."
"And that's the main Temple? On our right?" A party of monks watched from within the facade of columns.
"Temple of th' Northern Flame."
"Good. Now scoot out of sight before anyone gets a good look at you. I'll see you at the porter's hut." Gisel waved him away with her arm, and concentrated on the disputants before her. She was close enough to recognize men she'd seen before at Bellis' execution. At the head of the steps stood several Members of the Hundred, swords drawn and flanking the Spokesman and the Master at Arms with his baton of office. At the bottom of the steps stood the Misiker party, Gerd Misiker and his closest supporters, arguing with the men above them.
"You cannot bar me from my own hearing!" Gerd Misiker shouted. "I've a right to speak in my own defence."
Gisel and Yohan ran panting to the Misiker party. They joined Rolf Misiker at the rear.
"You have no rights in Lubitz," a large man in black armor beside the Spokesman said. "Your profiteering from the city's troubles has caused their forfeit."
"That's Wolk Kachupin," Rolf said to Yohan. "He'll get a shock very soon."
As the arguments raged to and fro, the colonel of the Hinterland Regiment ordered his men to attention, and then to port halberds. Leading them forward in close order, the colonel ascended the steps to flank Wolk Kachupin's supporters and dressed his men across the forecourt, from the ornate doorway of the Gravhalle all the way to the bottom of the steps.
Wolk Kachupin turned to the officer. "Colonel, do your duty! Clear this rabble from the square!"
"I must ask you to moderate your speech, Meister Wolk," the colonel said. "The hearing has just been convened. It would be premature to deny access to this Member until due process has been completed."
"What? You disobey me?"
"It seems my duty is clear, Meister. Please set aside your swords and let the Member enter the chamber, or I shall have to disarm you by force."
Wolk Kachupin faced the soldiers, raising his sword. Gisel took in the ranks of determined faces standing against him. She saw Kachupin's shoulders slump. His companions stared at the halberd points facing them and slowly sheathed their swords. The Master at Arms clasped his ceremonial baton to his breast and marched down to the foot of the steps.
"I recognize Gerd Misiker as Member of the Hundred," he said formally. "Please accompany me to your seat."
"Well, that went off well," Rolf Misiker said. "Come with me - I've space in the Honor Gallery for us to hear the proceedings."
Gisel smiled at him. "I guess word of money for the regiment's arrears helped."
"The colonel was pleased. Am I right in believing we have you to thank for that?" Rolf asked as they set foot on a narrow staircase just inside the marble foyer.
"Ahh...tell you later," Gisel said, following him up the winding staircase.
"I think I can guess. If you need assistance or protection in the city, Meister Galen, you can call upon me."
"You may be offering more than you suppose, sir."
Rolf turned his head to look down at her. "Whatever peril you are in. I'm ready to take up arms, if such is needed to get Lubitz to the bargaining table."
"Thank you, Meister. I hope it'll not come to that."
At the head of the stairs, they went through a small doorway into the corner of a long vestibule, busy with Members and citizens bustling about, and loud discussion groups. Its lofty ceiling was decorated with an allegorical scene of goddesses and the founders of the city, its walls were paneled in dark wood and hung with a multitude of portraits.
"Those are past Margraves of the city," Rolf said, pointing. "And the two narrow doorways are the entrances to the Hundred. Votes are counted by the number of members returning through the Yea or the Nay door. The staircase to the gallery is at the far end - follow me and please don't tarry. We are not allowed to listen from the Member's vestibule."
The Honor Gallery overlooked the length of the hall where the Hundred met. Below them, at the far end, was the bench where the Master at Arms sat with his staff of secretaries, ushers and orderlies. Half way down the hall, the desk and throne of the Margrave stood; raised, so that he could see the whole Hundred by merely turning his head. The Members were ranged before them in canopied chairs, each set a sword's length from the next, every one wearing a powdered wig and dressed in formal finery.
"All the members wear swords - is that a result of the reverses in this war?" Gisel whispered.
Rolf Misiker shook his head. "Oh no. It has always been thus. Even those Members not trained in arms wear a sword to the Hundred - it's an ancient tradition."
"Must make for some keen debates."
"We like to remember we came from a warrior culture. Clever speaking and devious arguments have more grounding in reality if they might need the backing of steel."
"Let's hope your brother's defence isn't voted in blood."
The Master at Arms called upon Wolk Kachupin to read the indictment. Wolk stood and marched to the Presenter's Platform. Before he spoke he looked up into the Honor Gallery and nodded to a grey-bearded man standing some distance from the Misiker party.
"That's Svart Kachupin, the head of the family."
"The Hundred is gathered in session to consider the charges brought against the citizen Gerd Misiker...." The indictment went on in intricate detail to list the supposed offences and their damage to the city. They seemed weak to Gisel, but the penalties were not - they ranged from mere banishment to several kinds of gruesome executions. Kachupin seemed to especially relish the Ceremonial Drowning; he mentioned it several times. After nearly an hour, Gisel felt her legs starting to cramp from immobility. She noticed the presenter, too, was standing and hoped he'd hurry his speech. What did the indictment amount to? Other than exaggerated claims of contact with the enemy and other attempts at justification they'd used against Bellis, it seemed the Misiker Bank had charged too much for its war services to the city. One thing was apparent, Kachupins seemed to mistrust bankers as much as she - could the family be as bad as everyone said?
Yohan made periodic comments into her ear about the expense of doing business with states, and the costs of bad debts. "The King of Lingdon still owes my father a half million for his war in '46. I'll warrant Lubitz owes the Misikers as much."
Gisel stifled a yawn. "Wouldn't it settle things if somebody audited the books?"
"What - open the Bank's affairs to an outsider? Outrageous!"
When Wolk at last finished speaking, the usher called the next presenter forward. He was a wealthy ship owner who spoke for the honor of the Hundred - a kind of impartial witness. This man, no matter how rich, was more politician than businessman, for he spoke half an hour without committing himself to either side of the dispute.
Following this presentation a supporter of Gerd Misiker made his way to the platform and listed all the services Citizen Misiker had carried out on behalf of the city, not just in this war but in all the years before. He seemed somewhat daunted by the risks he was taking with his own safety, but toward the end his voice recovered some strength and certainty. "Let us never forget how Gerd Misiker paid for the ammunition and victuals carried on our fleet from his own pocket. That fleet is presently serving in the Inland Sea with our allies."
A dozen more Members stood up in turn to speak after this, some for reinstatement and others against. At last Gerd Misiker was ordered forward.
"I tender my most heartfelt thanks to those Members who have so ably listed the virtues and services rendered to the city by myself and my family. I must also thank those who spoke in opposition for their clear statement of grievances and for their diligence in investigating my relationship with the city and the Hundred. I look forward to clearing my name of these charges and resuming my service to the city.
"For it is to the future, I intend to speak. The past is done, and the accounting of faults there, while necessary for the satisfaction of the Members cannot help Lubitz in the trials facing it in the immediate future. Trials, which in my innermost heart and being, I wish to share and to vanquish in company with the Honorable Members."
A ripple of applause spread around the Members and some of the spectators in the Honor Gallery. The Margrave raised his hand to silence it.
Gerd continued, "I plead to this assembly not just for reinstatement but for the privilege of serving my city in its time of need. My sons are serving their fellows aboard the flagship of our fleet. I pray that they shall not be unsupported in their dangerous duty. I hope the trials of all men serving in the fleet may be lightened a little by my efforts, as well as by those of my fellow Members. Many friends and family serve the city in its land forces - both with the field army in its forward positions, and in the city where they guard the citizens against the disorder encouraged by ambitious elements."
Yohan turned to Gisel with a faint smile. She grinned back. "He's quite an orator. Does he defend prisoners in court?"
Gerd raised his voice as he continued, "The Misiker family has advanced almost a million ducats to the city since this war began - both in low interest loans and in outright grants. This is in addition to the payment of a quarter of a million in taxes. I believe no other leading family has equalled or exceeded this - save only our dearly beloved Margrave and his kin."
Misiker turned toward the Margrave as he said this, and the Margrave acknowledged him with a slight inclination of his head.
"I have been distressed that the last few months have seen the Misiker Bank unable to produce the coin needed to pay our noble soldiers - both the mercenaries who serve under our banner from all over the known world, and the stalwart recruits who make up the Hinterland Regiment. We have searched everywhere for friends willing to advance money to the city of Lubitz in its hour of need. We have undertaken risks to our lives, and even to our reputation in this search..."
Here, many in the hall stared at Wolk Kachupin. He glowered back at them.
"It is with the greatest pleasure that I can announce that our last efforts in this direction have borne fruit. We have enough coin to settle the claims of the officers and men of the Hinterland Regiment. It will be - "
His words were drowned out by cheers and general applause. Gisel would have liked to join in but thought better of it. The only people present who did not act relieved were the Kachupins and their supporters. Even the Margrave allowed himself a slight smile and waited for several minutes before signalling the outburst to cease.
"I hope to see this disbursement carried out on the morrow," Gerd Misiker resumed when the Hundred quieted. "Beyond that, I must inform the Members of the visit - through a countryside fraught with peril - of one of the young associates of the Felger merchant family. I see Meister Yohan Felger in the Honor Gallery - would he please make himself visible to the Hundred."
Gisel and Rolf Misiker pushed Yohan to the rail at the front of the Gallery as the Members looked up with loud applause. The Members obviously believed it was he who was to be thanked for the timely arrival of the money.
"It is hoped that with his assistance, we may look to my Bank's associates in the rest of Mainland for the greater sums required to discharge the mercenaries from their service too." The word discharge, his first reference to the morning's pamphlet, caused a gasp from the gathering.
Gisel glanced at the Members' faces visible from where she stood. Which way would they lean - to the future or the past? Perhaps Gerd was wise to let the gathering arrive at their own conclusion.
Gerd Misiker continued speaking for another half an hour, raising separate points listed in the indictment and refuting them. Elaborate reasoning and clever rhetoric was hardly needed - his announcement of fresh money had won most of the Hundred to his side. The Margrave then spoke in summary and advised the Members of their duties and responsibilities in voting. Even he went out of his way to cast the plea for reinstatement in a favorable light. It was no surprise that when the Members filed back from the vestibule to be counted, seventy four supported Gerd Misiker, with only twenty one opposed. The indictment was dismissed.
Gisel and Yohan pushed through the crowd with Rolf Misiker to go down and offer their congratulations. The throng of Members about Gerd in the vestibule was so dense they continued down the winding staircase to the main doors and went out to wait at the head of the steps. Some Members, not pleased at the result, hurried home in disgust, others spoke jubilantly to the crowd of waiting citizens. Many hurried away to take care of affairs set in train by the Hundred's decision.
"Is there a chance of a hundred thousand, for the mercenaries?" Rolf asked.
Gisel shrugged. "If there was a guarantee they're paid off and don't wind up fighting us."
"Lubitz is not populous enough to maintain sufficient army to fight a war without mercenaries."
"Neither are many other nations."
"Mercenaries are a danger - if their hirer is not winning."
"Incentive enough," Gisel answered. "The farther away, the better."
Loud voices from the doorway heralded the arrival of Gerd Misiker and his enthusiastic supporters. The crowd cheered. The colonel of the Hinterland Regiment brought his company to attention. The crowd of well-wishers about Gerd Misiker followed him down the steps so that Gisel and Yohan could only follow at the fringe. A throng of citizens surged forward to shake their new hero's hand.
A shot - a cloud of powder smoke billowed amid the crowd.
Gisel turned to see Gerd Misiker falling backwards onto the steps. The crowd stopped, frozen in shock. A short man in working smock with breeches tied below the knee spun about, threw down a discharged pistol, and ran.
Yohan and Rolf Misiker darted forward. Two of the Members drew their swords to rush after the assailant. Gisel dashed to Gerd Misiker's side and reached to check for his pulse.
The assailant ran into the crowd but it parted before him. The Members with drawn swords closed on him. Yohan ran to catch up, his pistol in his hand.
The man fell. A Member of Hundred raised his sword.
"No!" Yohan shouted. "Take him alive."
Too late. The sword came down in a shining arc. The steel chopped into skull and shoulder. Blood gushed upwards in a scarlet fountain. The man emitted guttural cries, his body jerking spasmodically until a second Member thrust his sword through the bleeding body.
"Yohan!" Gisel shouted.
Yohan turned. "Sorry - I tried."
"Gerd is still alive. Fetch my medical pack from the mansion!"
She took command of the fallen man - had cloaks set down to form a stretcher and others to cover him. Six helpers lifted him and carried him up the steps into an anteroom. Rolf Misiker lead the way and cleared a path while Gisel walked alongside, working to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound.
"Is someone gone to fetch a churgeon?" Rolf asked.
"I can handle battlefield wounds," Gisel answered, as they laid him on a table. "But the more help the better."
"Does he stand a chance?"
"There's no exit wound. I'll tell you once we find where the bullet's lodged."
The crowd, so recently cheering and full of triumph, fell silent. Anxious faces came and went at the doorway. There was a stir as the Margrave entered. Gisel immediately recognized him as brother to the man they'd met at Abersholm, but he looked soft and plump where Lerris was hard from his soldier's life. His manner seemed morose, likely from weeks of tending the cares of a threatened city. Silently he looked down at the fallen man and at Gisel working over him.
"The city prays your efforts succeed, young man."
"I've seen worse wounded recover, Excellency."
Yohan returned and set out Gisel's first aid kit. There was another stir at the doorway as a churgeon and his apothecary entered.
The churgeon scowled when he saw someone working over the wounded man. "If you please, Margrave, we need room to work. Can you have the room cleared?"
Gisel looked up. "Meister Rolf, you are responsible for your brother's treatment."
The churgeon spoke first, "Please, Sirs - do not let this boy make mock of my craft -"
Rolf turned to him. "I trust Galen Brough - he stays."
The Margrave returned to the door, ushering the onlookers out before him. "Come - let us continue about our tasks. We have many duties now that our poor friend has eased the city's poverty."
When Gisel had time to look at the churgeon's face, she recognized him immediately. Last year he'd served aboard Zigany - the man whose potions and herbs had kept her alive long enough for Iskander's help to reach her. He didn't recognize her in the Galen disguise, but his eyes opened wide when he saw the Iskander medical pack. He stared hard at Gisel as she took off her rapier and jacket to pick up medical implements from the pack. His mystified expression solidified as his eyes fixed on the rapier.
"I don't recognize the young man, but I know that sword well enough."
"Let's leave the social niceties until our patient is attended to," Gisel said, pointing a scalpel at him. "Take care your thoughts don't accidentally slip past your lips - or there'll be another gunshot wound around here."
"I'm certain I know you," the churgeon answered. "By your manner and speech, if not your face. I'm not fool enough to quarrel with you, Lieutenant. But I want no part of your mischief in Lubitz."
"Help me with this probe - I think the pistol ball passed through the lung and came to rest against the shoulder blade."
The rest of Gisel's day was taken up in taking the pistol ball out of Gerd Misiker and binding him up. She administered a good dose of antibiotics and hoped for the best. He recovered consciousness while they conveyed him home and she felt reassured he had a strong enough constitution to stand his ordeal.
Deep into the night, she led Yohan and Rolf Misiker to the summerhouse in the garden. They carried storm lanterns with the wicks turned down to give just enough light to see their path; she carried her rechargeable lantern and had her night vision goggles at hand. She set down her lantern and turned its broad beam toward the storage cupboard, then began to drag out the packs of coins.
Yohan gasped. "This money was merely lying in an unlocked cupboard! How did you secure it against theft?"
Gisel shrugged. "Nobody has opened these cupboards for months - I figured it unlikely anyone would today."
Yohan shook his head. "You're impossible! Suppose someone had?"
She smiled. "I guess there'd be a wild party somewhere tonight."
Rolf Misiker shouldered one of the packs and made for the door. "The summerhouse is rarely visited, and one person could never handle all this alone."
The two of them left while Gisel hauled the rest of the money to the doorway and sat in the threshold to wait for their return. She put on the night vision goggles, and scanned the shrubberies and plantings in the eerie green light. The garden was still, except for a hedgehog eating some delicate new flower seedlings. She noticed nothing else until she heard Yohan and Rolf returning. As the first glimmer of their lanterns fell around the corner of a path, she saw movement in a shrubbery as somebody looked up momentarily and then ducked from sight.
She gathered her feet under her to head for the spot, but then decided to wait until the others had left. She took off the goggles before Rolf reached her. "Three packs to go." The three of them shouldered the packs and traversed the path to the mansion. Gisel dropped hers inside the door and turned back. "I'll see you later - after you've locked everything in the vault."
Yohan stared from the doorway as if he might question her, but then continued in with his burden. She closed the door and put on her night vision goggles, slipping silently across the lawn as far as she judged would put her behind the shrubbery where she'd seen movement. She stopped to listen. Minutes passed before she heard whispering. Stealthily she worked her way toward the sound. When she made out the shapes of two people crouched in a depression between two bushes she stopped again. One's body heat showed up plainly in flimsy night attire while the other was darker, in outdoor clothes.
A man's whisper came to her ears. "The garden is still now, dearest. We are quite safe."
A frightened female whisper answered. "No. You must leave. What if they return?"
"Why should they? But even if they did, they cannot see us here."
"It's too dangerous! What would they do to you?"
"I have my sword."
"No, no! Hasn't there been violence enough? My poor father lies wounded - "
"And I came for that very reason - and to hold you in my arms again. I deplore Wolk's murderous plots - but none can restrain him."
"Such hatred between our families - "
"But assure me...your father will live?"
"It seems so - if the Mighty will...."
The voices ceased and when she raised her head Gisel could see them in a tight embrace, their hands desperately exploring the extent of their love. Had she learned enough? She'd better return to the mansion.
In a convulsive lurch the lovers separated. The young man pulled away. "No Leijla, it must not be so! I must leave!"
"Please stay with me...my body wants you."
"And I want you - "
"Then give me your love."
"No. Only with honor - not skulking like this in the dark."
A rustling in the shrubbery gave away the young man's movements. Gisel took advantage of the disturbance to regain the path. Another noise erupted as Leijla attempted to stop him leaving. Their voices rose above a whisper. From the direction of the mansion Gisel heard a footfall on the path. Then Yohan's voice as he called softly for her. The two lovers stood at bay in the edge of the shrubbery. The young man reached a hand toward his rapier, but then paused - a quick embrace and he dashed away.
Yohan came around the corner, his lantern casting a yellow glow around the shadowed bushes.
Gisel took off the goggles and stepped into the shrubbery. "Get back out of sight," she whispered to Leijla, standing transfixed behind her.
"Gisel? Where are you?"
Whoops! He shouldn't have said that. She stepped out into the lantern's light. "Here I am."
"Why so long - is there something wrong?"
"No, nothing. I wanted a few minutes to think."
A snap of a branch came from the direction of the wall.
"What's that?" Yohan said, his hand reaching for his pistol.
"Nothing. There's some small animal been feeding off the Misiker's flowers."
"It sounded heavier than that."
"Not to me. What's all this concern? Is it for my safety or do you suspect me of some more mischief?"
Yohan stepped close and put an arm about her. "Both, I think. Your business is so nerve-racking - I thought you could even be lying dead out here. Too many know your identity already."
Gisel started to pull away and then thought better of it. Did he realize what he was doing - did he mean it? He was more than just a challenge to her womanhood. "Thank you for coming to my rescue."
He pulled his arm away and stepped back a pace. "Sorry...I didn't mean..."
"That's okay, I liked it." She smiled but didn't know if he noticed in the lantern's pale beam. "Only a few days more. I believe I know where the Baron is."
"Where?"
"We'll look tomorrow. Let's go to the summerhouse to fetch my lantern - then we'll retire for the night."
"I'll fetch it. Rolf is waiting at the door."
As soon as his footfall sounded on the threshold of the summerhouse, Gisel turned and crouched low to speak to Leijla. "We must talk further - tonight."
"He called you by a woman's name," Leijla marveled. "It seemed as if he put an arm about you - "
"I'll trade you a secret for a secret. Have Emma set a woman's shift outside the door to the Brother's Room . I dare not creep into your chamber as a man."
When Emma answered Gisel's tap on the door and she slipped inside, she found herself looking at two confounded women. She lowered her automatic and glanced quickly around, glad to be free of the clinging false beard and moustache.
"This is...the same...? You are Galen Brough?" Leijla asked. She wore a riding cloak over her night attire. Emma slipped in front of the bedside table where a fire-iron rested almost out of sight.
"I'm Gisel Matah, popularly known as the Wildcat - an officer in Iskander's military. Now you know more than your father - both of you. Don't doubt these words - I'll kill to prevent either betraying me."
They stared, wide eyed, as she put the automatic away into the bosom of her shift. Emma made a timid sound in her throat but Leijla stepped forward. "Then you are in league with my betrothed - more...you are...?"
"No, we're not lovers. He hasn't strayed as far as you have - at least, not with me."
"He placed an arm about you."
"Yes, he did. It was a surprise to me, but I'll admit - not unwelcome. I do not know your lover but you may be missing a good man. What is your man's name?"
"I will not tell you."
Gisel looked sharply toward Emma.
"Not I, Sir...I mean.... I will not give away my mistress's secret."
Her eyes proclaimed fear but she didn't flinch. Good girl, that means my secret is likely safe with her. Gisel looked toward Leijla - what if she thought her new knowledge may help her romance? "He is not a friend to your family?"
"I am betrothed. My father would never give him entry."
"But he is more - I know the feel of a man in enemy territory. How do you suppose you two might secure your families' approval?"
Leijla's composure faltered, she lurched toward her bed with a sob. Emma flew to her side. "Don't say that, Mistress Wildcat. See what you do?"
"If I'm going to help, I have to be realistic."
Leijla raised her face again. "You can help - you have a plan?"
"Not yet, but I made a promise. All I can do at present is make Yohan see sense in your dismay at marriage."
"Don't tell him!"
"I'll tell him as much as needful, but I'll ensure he does not go to your father."
"How do I know you mean that?"
"Because I need something more from you. There are a great many young cousins in the house - especially young women. Do you think your mother knows them all?"
A noise like distant thunder gradually impinged on Yohan's awareness and he sat up in bed. Daylight streamed in the window, for after their late night silver business, he'd slept long. He lifted onto an elbow to see the other bed - it was empty. He shook his head; did she need no sleep?
He climbed out of his rumpled sheets and opened the doors to the balcony. Wrapping a cloak modestly about his long nightshirt he stepped out to look for the source of the sound. Not a thundercloud to be seen - the sky was perfectly clear. He stared around at the city - no sign of anything to cause the distant rumble.
The door to the room flew open as Gisel came hurrying in. "Oh, you're up at last. We have some things to discuss."
He turned toward her from the balustrade as she stepped out onto the balcony. "What's that noise?"
"Ah, you've not heard it before? Lots of people are asking. That's the sound of war - cannonades. The fleets have met, somewhere over the horizon to the north."
"By the Holy Flame!" Yohan turned to look out at the empty sea. He visualized the ships, their sides splintered, masts falling, gunpowder smoke and death. "You knew about it?"
"Admiral Norris told me to expect action, a couple of nights ago."
"What will happen?"
"Who knows? The fortunes of war...Iskander has the most powerful ships. But that's not what we need to speak about - here's the first. I want you to write a letter to the Grand Master of the Knights of Dazel asking for a private interview."
"Because I told you he and the Baron are friends?"
"More than that - Iskander's remote sensing has come up with something. It seems the ship we suspect he sailed in from Tarnland met the Zigany. They were moored alongside one another for several hours in a Thalian port."
"So you think - ?"
"It's a reasonable assumption to follow up. Ask him to see us both."
"All right, I'll do it after breakfast. Leave me now, so I may dress."
"I think you'd best keep your shirt on, I've another thing to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I spoke with your betrothed, last night."
"You did?"
"She's fallen in love with another man."
"What! How dare she?" He lurched forward, his fists clenched. "What's his name?"
"I don't know, yet."
"Upon my honor! I'll kill the wretch if he's set a finger upon her!"
"Honor be damned, Yohan. The girl's head is turned - you'd be a fool to go ahead with the marriage."
"Easy for you to say! I'll not bear such shame. She's promised to me - she must marry me and cast this serpent's memory from her mind. I'll not have a woman of mine look at another!"
"Jeeze! I'm sorry I told you. Cool the macho male pride and look at this sensibly - "
"Cool what...? You think my reaction unworthy? Then you know nothing of our world after all." His cloak fell un-noticed to the floor as he began to pace back and forth. His bare feet padded on the floor like angry fists on a table. "What would my father think? My friends from the academy? I'll make her forget him!"
She shook her head, spreading her hands in frustration. "You'd make a marriage with a woman who'll come to hate you? You'd be ridiculed more to do that."
"Hate? You know nothing of what you say."
"You might force yourself upon her - father children on her - but what pleasure can even the most stubborn, prideful man take in children conceived in hate? You'd suspect your every passion would but remind her of another. Such are the makings of a hell on earth."
"Nonsense. I will hear no more!"
She reached out her hands to halt his agitated pacing. "Look at me, Yohan. Which of us knows more of a woman's mind?"
He turned away to plant his elbows on the balustrade. "Well...of course, you do."
She followed, leaning against him. "I'm not disputing you in this because I want to hurt you...or your pride. Your self respect is vital - of course it is. But hold your anger in check and reflect upon this for a day - then we'll speak of it again. Together we may find a way that you can release her - with honor to you both."
He glared at her. "How? This is another of your manipulations. And must you stand so close with your arm about me? I have nothing on but a nightshirt."
She grinned briefly and pulled off her fake beard. "I noticed. I know your pride is at stake, but she's not the only woman in the world."
He sought her eyes, aware and not really ashamed of the effect her closeness had on him. She was too experienced in these things. "I don't think you should speak that way."
She stepped back from him. "I'm sorry, I mean to persuade, not manipulate. I admit I'd have cared nothing for your feelings a week or so ago, but we've been through much together. I respect you as a dear friend now - I hope to earn your trust."
He followed a step after her to take hold of both her hands. "I will do as you ask. Think about your words, I mean. But only because I value your advice. I believe I - "
She turned one of her dark eyed stares on him, but it was softer than he'd seen before. "Careful what you say."
He stood in silence...He had a kaleidoscope of images of Gisel in his mind's eye - one was of the impertinent baggage who'd disarmed him upon the Brook Steps - who'd laughed at him as she tossed the ball and powder from his pistol into the river. Another was of the woman who'd modestly shared his quarters. The woman who had foiled the ruffians to rescue him on the road - delicious curves of breast and thigh in that red dress. The old image was fading and another - warm, vital and deeply disturbing - growing ever stronger. It was best not blurted out.
She regarded him with that softer look as she withdrew her hands from his. "I too have feelings I want time to examine - perhaps after this peril is over. I'll go out onto the balcony while you dress. We can talk through the curtain."
They left the room when Yohan dressed, and made their way down through the mansion to the ground floor. They passed through scenes of busy confusion - more cousins had arrived from the country and were being found beds and accommodation. Only in one portion of the family wing was there anything resembling quiet - the corridor outside Gerd's chamber.
Yohan stopped beside the door. "How is he this morning? Have you heard?"
"I've been in to see him. He woke normally, but he's very weak. I gave him another 10ccs against infection and something to make him sleep. It's all that can be done at the moment."
"How is the Lady Tanis taking it?"
"She's calmer now - she nursed him part of the night. I'll take another quick check - see you downstairs."
When Gisel reached the breakfast room at last she saw Yohan standing empty handed beside the scant remains of the buffet. Waking up to cannon fire had so stimulated everyone's appetite that the breakfast room had been invaded by hungry diners.
"Seems to me I promised you a meal when we reached Lubitz," Gisel said. "I guess this is a good time."
"Where?"
"That fine hostelry across the square from the Gravhalle - the one where official visitors and rich travelers stay. With the shortage of cash I'll bet they're not as crowded as here."
They answered the salutes of the Hinterland soldiers who had been posted to guard the mansion as they went out through the iron gates. Gisel's quick scan told her there was no watcher posted this morning. It became plainer that Zagdorf was deeply embroiled in the city's conflicts - too busy building up the Kachupin faction to spare men to go after her - for now. As they passed the shelter where the chair porters rested. Rip emerged to join them, putting a hand to the hilt of Yohan's rapier as it hung at his side.
"Where is we goin'?"
Gisel answered. "Just down here to the main square. Have you found out anything about Zigany's crew?"
"Some, but none is men who was aboard las' year."
She needed answers about the vessel's last voyage, but would have more leverage with someone she'd dealt with before. As soon as he found her a man to question she'd send the kid away for his own safety.
They soon reached the square and stopped across from the smart establishment with its pillared front and portico. A few elegantly dressed men and women entered or left, some stood talking beside the steps, and a squad of Hinterland soldiers was posted on guard in the street before it. Leaving Rip at the entrance as the liveried footman swung open the door, Gisel paused on the threshold to toss the lad a coin.
"Go around to the kitchens at the back and get yourself something."
Inside, the head waiter came forward to greet them, eyeing their rapiers with respect. "Yes, young gentlemen. How may I serve you?"
"We're looking for some breakfast."
"Certainly, sirs. Come this way. You'd prefer a private room?"
"Doesn't matter," Gisel said. "We're not anti-social."
"I ask because someone here seems to know you. He saw you from the window."
"Really?"
"Do you wish to join the diners in here?" The head waiter stopped before a closed door. "The gentleman says to extend his invitation."
Yohan looked at Gisel warily. "Who do we know?"
She shrugged. "If we don't go in, we'll never find out."
The head waiter swung open the door and stepped back. Inside the private room was a long table laden with steaming dishes and bottles of wine. Two footmen stood at the sideboard ready to wait upon the occupants. Two men sat at the table, partly turned away from the door, a young woman in a low cut gown faced them, to the left of the man at the head. She looked up with an expectant smile.
"The young gentlemen, my lord Count," the head waiter announced.
The man at the head of the table stood to greet them. "Count f'Doornam, Ambassador to the kingdom of Whonmark." he said as he made a courtly bow. The other man turned in his chair with a sardonic expression on his face. It was Zagdorf.
Yohan hesitated, but when Gisel began to chuckle he returned the Count's bow and thrust out his hand. "Yohan Felger, my lord Count - and my bodyguard Galen Brough."
"Charmed," the Count said with a smile. He snapped his fingers towards the footmen. "Quickly, set places for my guests. I believe you know Commandante Zagdorf?"
"Not well," Yohan said. "But we've seen one another along the road."
"Galen Brough," Zagdorf said, as if savoring the sound of the name. "I've been most anxious to meet you."
f'Doornam looked intently at Zagdorf as he seated himself. "So, Commandante. Am I to understand these are - ?"
"The two young fellows who come here on an errand of great harm to us both, Excellency."
"You are surely mistaken," Yohan said, as he lowered himself into the chair the footman was holding for him. "We are here upon business for the Bank."
Gisel seated herself at the other, taking care to keep her rapier out of its legs. "But I must say we enjoyed the sport you provided for us along the way."
Zagdorf's laugh sounded forced.
The Count waved his hands expansively. "Please take some breakfast. There are stuffed capons, grilled lamb's kidneys, and I must heartily recommend the sweetbreads in wine sauce - a specialty of the house. And a glass of wine - you drink the Empire's wine I hope?"
Gisel raised her empty glass toward a footman. "Of course, all I can lay my hands on."
The Count turned to the young woman. "Reba, you may serve the young gentlemen." He raised his eyes to the footmen. "Leave us. We will serve ourselves."
When the door closed behind the footmen, the Count eyed Gisel closely. "So you believe this young man to be an Iskander agent, Commandante?"
"This young person . . ." Zagdorf smiled without humor in his eyes. "I don't believe, Excellency. I know."
The Count quietly regarded them as Yohan and Gisel began to eat. "Eat up, gentlemen. There is plenty of food. Lubitz is stockpiled for a siege - which of course will begin very soon, will it not?"
Gisel looked across the table at him and decided to feed his expectations. "As soon as the rest of the army arrives."
"You heard the cannon fire, no doubt," Zagdorf said. "Perhaps the army has been delayed?"
She smiled. "Perhaps the army is no longer needed, Commandante."
Zagdorf frowned. "Do you know? I can hardly doubt you soon will."
"If I did, I wouldn't tell you anything of truth."
The Count laughed. "Then we shall pay attention to what you do not say."
Zagdorf turned to Yohan. "And Gerd Misiker is still alive? We heard he was recovering."
"With Galen's care." Yohan inclined his head toward Gisel.
The Count's face darkened. "Those Misikers need a strong lesson."
Zagdorf shrugged. "So this swordsman knows how to cure wounds as well as inflict them?"
"My bodyguard knows more of physic and warfare both, than a whole squadron of your cavalry. You are on fool's errands to try to serve your nations here."
Count f'Doornam raised his hands. "Indeed. Such sentiments! Are these the opinions of the Felger family?"
"They're mine. At the moment."
"Then your bodyguard will receive a suitable welcome in the Empire, when we return." Zagdorf said.
"I was thinking you'd enjoy Tarnland more, Commandante," Gisel replied.
Zagdorf sneered. "I have a half squadron in the city."
"And I have a whole fleet, beyond the horizon."
"It's returning?" f'Doornam asked.
"You will know, when you see it."
"Let's not play at words," the Count said, with narrowed eyes. "Whonmark and the Empire together - with or without Lubitz - will roll back your pitiful conquests in Tarnland."
"With or without Lubitz," Gisel repeated. "The Margrave would be interested to hear that."
"Ah yes, Magnus Garriker." f'Doornam smiled. "It seems he needs more warlike men about him to put his heart and effort into this war."
"His brother, perhaps?"
"Lerris? Commanding the pathetic army pushed forward to ward off Iskander's cavalry. No. I mean real men of war, like Wolk Kachupin."
"What can he offer the city?" Gisel said. "Another lost battle and eventual bankruptcy? I'm looking at the opposition. A toothless diplomat and his mistress - an aging soldier with a half squadron of very mediocre cavalry - such friends Kachupin has behind him! Lubitz needs real money and real soldiers from its allies - and your masters have none to spare of either."
A venomous expression flew across f'Doornam's face before he recovered his poise.
Zagdorf's face flushed red, then white. "Don't be so bold! I may have underestimated you in the past, but I have your true measure now. When you next see your fleet's sails upon the horizon I'd advise you to swim out to them. I'm sure your young friend - Marc is his name, isn't it? - would like to have that opportunity."
Gisel strove to make her face impassive as she returned his stare. Marc was dead - she felt certain of that - what was Zagdorf trying to pull? "Where did you meet Marc?"
Zagdorf showed his teeth in a smile. "Ahah. That is less important than where he is now."
Yohan leaned forward anxiously. "And where is that?"
Gisel reached out to place a cautionary hand on his arm.
Zagdorf leaned back in satisfaction. "I see you are interested. Perhaps we can come to some...arrangement. I have little doubt he would be pleased to exchange his present confinement for something better. You have enough knowledge to buy his freedom."
Gisel stared at Zagdorf's face, trying her best to see through his gambler's mask. If Marc had been captured alive no horsemen would have been searching the countryside the following morning. No scow waiting for them in the bushes - not without an ambush nearby. She patted her automatic, concealed in its shoulder holster. "I know enough to expect you to join him in his...confinement...before I shall. But Marc deserved better than to spend eternity in your company. I have had all the arrangements with you that I care for." Gisel set down her fork and stood. "I thank you for the refreshments, Excellency. I regret I've nothing more to say."
"Don't leave, young sirs," Count f'Doornam protested. "We've much more to talk about. I hoped you'd tell me where I may find my friend the Baron of Weshortz and Darmitz - your uncle, Yohan."
"Really?" Yohan said. "I've not seen him since last December - in Lingdon."
The Count shrugged. "That's not at all what I expected to hear. Please seat yourself again, Galen. Have some of the stuffed capon - Reba, another plate for the gentleman, he cannot be satisfied yet."
He turned toward Yohan. "What do you think of her? Reba is a Lubitz girl Wolk found for me. Such breasts, and thighs like milk. I have an anteroom at hand if you'd care to enjoy her. You too, Galen."
Zagdorf's face grew an amused smile as he caught the quick glance that passed between Gisel and Yohan.
"I'm betrothed to Gerd Misiker's daughter," Yohan said. "Perhaps you didn't know. Among other things, I'm here to discuss arrangements for the wedding."
"So? Betrothed; married - it means nothing. Reba, which one of these fine lads would you like to bed first?"
This time Yohan rose to his feet. "I think we've exchanged pleasantries enough. Good day, my lord Count. Galen, are you ready?"
Gisel tore a leg from the capon on the plate Reba held out to her and stood. She'd learned more than she'd expected - Zagdorf knew her secret, but was keeping it even from his allies. "Sure, we can't devote our whole day talking to friends. We've a city to subvert. A pleasure to meet you, Commandante. I shall be sure to send flowers to your funeral."
Zagdorf's eyes watched their every move as they went to leave. "Yours are picked fresh - this morning."
For the second morning in a row, gunfire disturbed the Misiker household. This time it wasn't a distant rumble; it was outside in the street. Yohan looked up from his breakfast to see Lady Jenn, Rolf's wife, drop her plate on the floor. Gisel snatched out her automatic and gestured toward him. "Yohan - front door!"
He drew his new pistol and ran after her. When they arrived, they found Rolf Misiker and half a dozen of the male relatives behind an upturned oak table in the doorway. Cousin Merik peered around the edge of the front door, sword in hand.
Rolf turned to them. "Mercenaries. Surely they do not attempt robbery in broad daylight."
Gisel shook her head. "I suspect they're working for Zagdorf or f'Doornam - you have more enemies in the city than you imagine."
Yohan pressed his back against the wall beside the door. "They were full of threats, yesterday."
Rolf looked from one to the other, a question on his face.
"I'll tell you later," Yohan said, cocking his Iskander revolver. He swung quickly to crouch beside Cousin Merik, looking out the door. Hinterland soldiers with muskets and halberds crouched behind the wide stone gateposts on either side of the mansion's iron gateway. They were the family's new guards. A musket report from the mercenary position across the road ...the heavy slug thudded into the door.
"Curse you!" Yohan said, firing several shots in reply before ducking inside. The Misikers stared at the weapon he carried, made by their enemy. No one commented.
Gisel stood and counted the defenders. "Is the back of the mansion secure?"
"There is only one outside door," Rolf said. "The garden is secure."
Yohan realized what Gisel was thinking - this seemed to be a diversion. She started across the entry hall. "I'm not so sure. Yohan and I will cover the back."
Yohan ran after her as Rolf answered. "Very well. Cousin Merik will take some of the gentlemen with you."
They reached the garden in time to see several figures climb across the top of the wall near the apple trees and drop down inside. More heads appeared on the outside of the wall and Yohan could see oxhides draped over the broken glass. Gisel raised her automatic and took a snap shot at a man scrambling over. He screamed and toppled headfirst. Yohan fired twice at those on the ground and then the gentlemen broke into a charge, swords at the ready. Yohan sprinted after them.
The mercenaries scattered, one fired a pistol and ran after the others into the bushes. Yohan counted four of them. He fired on the run until the hammer reached a spent casing. The enemy crashed through the bushes and disappeared into the summerhouse. Yohan ducked behind the largest tree and thumbed open the gate of the revolver cylinder to reload. They were six against four but he didn't know how many more of their opponents were armed with pistols - he'd seen one musketeer.
"Let me know when you're ready," Gisel called to him. "Give me suppressing fire."
"You're not going in!"
She shook her head. "Just getting closer so these slugs will go through the walls."
"I don't think you - "
"Cover me! Or I'll go in without cover."
She jumped to her feet and ran forward. Yohan leaned around the tree and blasted off the whole cylinder at the summerhouse door. Were all Iskander's women as stubborn? Bang! "Little minx." Bang. "Why did this bloodthirsty...reckless...." Bang "...wonderful idiot...." Bang "...land in my life?" Bang.... Gisel threw herself down behind a fountain in front of the summerhouse windows and blazed away. Fragments of wood and plaster erupted into the air. Screams came from inside, cries of dismay and muffled imprecations.
Gisel rammed a fresh clip into the butt of her automatic and shouted. "I'll give you a count of ten. Throw down your arms and come out!"
No movement or response.
"One...two...three..."
Two of the gentlemen sprinted forward to the fountain. No one fired from inside.
"...Seven..." Gisel called.
At nine, pistols and two sabers flew through the open doorway. The first mercenaries came out with their hands in the air. The last stumbled out with his hands bloodied and clasped to his chest. The gentlemen rushed forward to seize them, swords at the ready.
"Thanks." Gisel told them. "A couple of you take these away. Check the wall - we need to pull those oxhides off."
As some gentlemen led the captives away the others cautiously started toward the back wall. Gisel sprang through the summerhouse door. Yohan rushed in behind her, but stopped immediately inside.
"Empty," she said, turning away. "Let's join the men at the wall."
As she went to push past him, Yohan couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her. She stopped, her eyes widened as she looked up into his face. What would convince her not to take such chances? Impulsively he bent to kiss her. She resisted for a moment before responding; her lips were warm and soft, then they came alive. She pressed herself against him, and after a few seconds - pushed him away.
"I bet you'd prefer kissing a girl without a beard and moustache."
"Especially the moustache, I'm jealous."
"Come on - you pick the damnedest times to get affectionate."
"Please take care, Gisel. I couldn't bear - "
"I feel the same way. Not a good way to be in this situation. Enough to fear for my own safety - without you to worry about."
They separated outside the summerhouse and made their way to the garden wall by different routes, keeping an eye on the top. They joined the gentlemen beneath the apple trees - one was pulling the grappling iron loose. He tossed it over as Gisel bent over the recumbent form of the man she'd shot off the wall, her hand went to the artery in the man's neck.
"Broken, I think. He landed head first."
They turned to a sound behind them. Rolf Misiker and a soldier hurried up to them. Rolf indicated his companion with a nod of his head. "The Lieutenant says the mercenaries have gone. Have they given up this easily?"
The lieutenant stopped and straightened to attention. "They fled - soon after you repulsed this attack over the wall."
Yohan indicated the man on the ground. "I think this was their leader. Wasn't he with Zagdorf at the execution?"
Gisel nodded. "You may be right - all the fight went out of them as soon as he fell."
When they reached the front of the mansion, the Hinterland soldiers were throwing the body of one mercenary onto a handcart. Yohan followed Gisel to the porter's hut. She seemed distracted, as if she feared for Rip's safety. What could the gawky little street urchin mean to her?
"Nah. Kid run off," the nearest porter replied to their questions. "Soon as so'jers come."
"Well, that's one good thing," she said to Yohan as they turned to leave. "He listened to my advice."
Yohan looked around the street where the servants from the mansions were cleaning up the signs of fighting. The Misiker footmen carried the dead mercenary outside to hand over to the soldiers with the handcart. The Hinterland musketeers stood scanning the street with their muskets at the ready - no doubt the whole citizenry were alerted by the shooting. At the city end of the street a group of urchins played a game of toss in the gutter. From the center of the scrum an ugly boy stood to wave. "There's Rip."
Gisel followed his look. "Good. Using the gang for cover. You don't think much of him, but the kid has promise. Street smarts."
Whatever that meant. She didn't explain as they walked over to the group. The group, boys and girls, were equally ragged and dirty with eyes full of suspicion. Two went fawning over to Gisel - probably wanting easy money. She turned them away and nodded her head to indicate Rip should follow them.
"What have you found out for me?"
He stopped. "My friends is 'ungry."
Yohan would have planted a fist on the kid's ear, but Gisel held his arm. "You need money - ask. You don't need to bargain."
Yohan pulled his arm free. "I expect he'd rather steal than be given a ducat. Street brats are like that."
Gisel looked from one to the other. "You could be right. So you want your gang to see you get money out of me? Go ahead."
Rip smiled, his snaggle teeth like washing on a line stretched between his ears. "I knows about Zigany."
"Where did the information come from?"
Rip held out his hand and Gisel dropped a half-thaler in it. "My fren' Bortlen - 'ee knows one o' sailors."
"Did they take on cargo when they met the Frendlish ship?"
"Shippin' trunks - took two men ter carry 'en."
Gisel produced another half-thaler. "How many?"
"Ten."
Yohan made a quick estimate - a hundred pounds a trunk. A thousand pounds of silver would be a hundred thousand ducats - but some was likely gold. One trunk could carry a hundred thousand in gold. It fitted with Gisel's information. He leaned forward. "And a passenger?"
"Bortlen's fren' says he were muffled like a priest's bride."
"Did he give any name?" Yohan asked.
Rip turned his eyes to Gisel. She dropped a thaler into his palm.
"Flunky's name were Gets, or summat."
"BanGetz?"
"Could'a bin." Rip turned from them and ran back to his friends. He went up to the largest kid, a spindly teenager with a kerchief around his head, and handed over the coins. Then he came running back.
Gisel grinned. "You have more?"
"I knows where churgeon is stayin' - at river docks. You want to go?"
"Take us there." She handed him another coin and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the Citadel end of the street.
"Right. Foller me."
The street opened out into a small grassed area near the Citadel gate. Yohan stared up at it, three stories of stonework pierced with wide openings for small cannon; rather an obsolete structure but still formidable for assailants attempting entry from the city. No cannon muzzles showed now, but in the barbican - another stone structure covering the access to the gate itself - two small serpentines poked from the battlements. Yohan followed Gisel and Rip as they turned right and descended a dark canyon between the foot of the Citadel wall and the counterscarp of a dry moat.
At the foot of the hill, Rip led them down a refuse strewn alley between the base of the city wall and a deserted tumbledown warehouse. A gaunt dog stood on a mound of something too disgusting to examine, and barked hysterically. Picking his way, Yohan stretched across a pile of rotting vegetation and pulled back sharply as a rat darted from underfoot.
He wrinkled his nose at the stench drifting on the air. This was no place for a physician. "Where does this fellow live?"
"Just down 'ere. In back of old warehouse."
"I'll stand outside and keep watch."
Gisel looked at him. "If you can back me up from there."
"Oh, very well." He pulled out a kerchief to cover his face. "But I'll not stay long."
Rip lifted the latch on a sturdy door and they slipped inside.
Yohan saw the reason for the decrepit facade, it disguised a much cleaner space within, lined with shelves of bottles and earthenware jugs. An apothecaries storehouse, likely worth a small fortune. He took off his kerchief as the churgeon emerged from behind a curtain hanging over part of the far wall, a bell-mouthed scatter-gun in his hands. "Who is it?"
"An old shipmate," Gisel said. "Put the gun down."
The man let his arm sag, the gun resting against his thigh. "I don't trust you, Matah. What do you want?"
"Who did you tell?"
"I have not told a soul."
"I don't believe you. Men would pay money for me."
Yohan shook his head, what was she doing? It seemed foolish to ask for this trouble.
"I do not lack for money."
She smiled. "No, but we were never very close aboard Zigany."
Yohan placed a hand on his pistol butt and took a few steps closer to the man. If this fellow should betray her for gold, he'd see him die a shameful death.
The churgeon lifted the muzzle of his gun slightly. "I might own to friends who have an interest in you. They told me to keep my peace."
"I suppose you won't name them."
His expression answered them.
"Fair enough. I'll thank them myself." She turned on her heel, but then spoke again over her shoulder. "You might look in on Gerd Misiker. He needs more rest and someone to make him take it."
"I will do so." He lifted the curtain behind and disappeared.
Outside, Yohan hurried down the path behind her. "Who are his friends?"
"Haven't the faintest idea, but I didn't want to admit it."
Yohan laughed. "I like it when you use your wits on someone else."
"Yeah? But I have more investment in baffling you."
They strode back along the river quay toward the lower city, Rip ran off to rejoin his street friends. Taking a postern and a flight of steps to the top of the city wall, they joined a small crowd staring out to sea. The city folk were abuzz with speculation. On the horizon they could see the topmasts and sails of a flotilla of approaching ships. Several men in seamen's dress spoke loudly.
"They cursed Iskanders comin' back to their blockade!"
"I ban't so sure. The cut o' they sails..."
"I daresay you know all about them," Yohan said to Gisel.
She glanced around to see who was close enough to overhear. "Yesterday's naval battle? There's a security blackout."
He frowned. "You mean it's a secret? You could always find ways around it."
"Yes, but I respected it," she snapped irritably and switched to Scholars' Greek. "I've friends aboard our ships - they might have been killed or wounded! Don't you think I'm dying to know? Those sails are Lubitz's own warships. Norris could have restored the blockade to stop them, but I expect it served us best to let them go."
"Gerd Misiker will be pleased to see his sons return."
"I'd love to tell him the news. Better see if they're both alive, first."
When they returned to the mansion they had to push through a noisy crowd in the streets. The Hinterland soldiers saluted them when they reached the iron gates, and the crowd broke into a cheer. Yohan smiled and waved back. This was a throng of Misiker supporters, come to make their displeasure known for the mercenary attack. Thank the Flame the family still had the people's love, after Wolk Kachupin had done so much to destroy it .
Several spokesmen stood at the front of the crowd. "Three cheers for Gerd Misiker!"
"Lead us out of this dreadful war, Meister!"
"Speedy recovery! Health to our noble Misiker!"
As soon as they arrived inside Rolf Misiker sought them out. "Gerd wants to go onto the balcony to speak to the crowd."
"A politically astute move," Gisel said. "We'll come up to help. See if he's fit to make the effort."
Yohan sat near the rear of Misiker's chamber while Gisel used some medical device to assess his strength. The only procedure he recognized was something about the pressure of the blood. When she left the bedside to study the information on the contraption, Gerd had Rolf help raise him onto an elbow to speak.
His voice waxed and waned with his labored breath. "You were to tell me more of this remarkable companion of yours."
Yohan stood and advanced to the bed. "Yes, Meister Gerd, but it's embarrassing - I'm not sure how to go about it."
Rolf frowned. "Embarrassing?"
Gisel started back from the window with a smile, holding the medical device in her hand. Yohan felt more comfortable addressing his words to Leijla's uncle. "As your brother knew immediately, the name Galen Brough belongs to another. My companion is an Iskander officer."
"So you said," Gerd muttered. "Lieutenant Matah."
"Yes, Lieutenant Gisel Matah, otherwise known as the Wildcat."
The two brothers stared. Gerd turned his head to Gisel. "Preposterous! A woman? You attempt a foolish joke?"
Rolf's face darkened. "You tell us Galen killed an armored man in single combat on your journey - rescued you from a troop of soldiers - and now you pretend...a woman could do that? You must take us for fools!"
While the brothers watched, Gisel pulled off her false beard and moustache. "Does my own voice sound convincing?'
Rolf Misiker advanced to her side. "Can this be true? I do not know what to think."
Gisel loosened the top buttons of her shirt as far as the beginning of her cleavage. "Sorry, Meisters, but I'm offering you no more proof than this."
Gerd's eyes widened. "Enough, I believe you."
Rolf laughed, but raised his hand as if blocking the sight. "A woman! By the Flame, you carried off the disguise so well - "
"It was necessary."
"But why did you have to make the journey at all? Isn't such a task a man's job?"
Yohan started forward. She was certain to answer that with a barrage of sharp words. But she didn't. "Iskander needs to cooperate with the Felgers, and yourselves. We wanted to follow up our success with Leki. What I told you was correct. I have to find enough support here for peace that we can send an envoy."
"And how can you do that?"
She turned one of her dark eyed stares on them. "With your help, gentlemen. With your help."
Gerd Misiker stared back. "But what does this mean for my daughter? You two are lovers?"
Gisel sat on the edge of his bed. "No, sir, but we're forming an attachment."
She met Yohan's eyes, and he felt himself flush at the expression in them. The two brothers exchanged glances.
"Yohan is an honorable young man," Gisel said. "He's respected his betrothal to your daughter."
"Is this true?" Gerd raised his head to look at Yohan.
"Yes...but it seems Leijla is against the union."
"Merely a headstrong girl. She'll come around."
Gisel shook her head. "No, Meister - she and I have discussed this. It is no idle fancy - "
From the street outside came a louder clamor for Gerd Misiker.
"We'll say more later." Gisel replaced her false beard. "You're strong enough to go out onto the balcony briefly - if we support you. Let Rolf address the people."
The three of them helped him out of bed and walked him to the balcony. A great cheer went up from the crowd when they saw him. Leaving Gisel and Yohan to support his brother, Rolf advanced to the balustrade.
"Dear friends. Dear friends!" He waited for the uproar to die down. "My brother thanks you for your good wishes."
Gerd Misiker waved to the crowd and they shouted and waved back for several minutes. Banners of the Misiker colors, green and white, swept to and fro above the heads of the throng.
"He looks forward to having strength enough to serve his city...yes, friends! To serve Lubitz further. He has asked the Committee of Public Safety to attend him in his sick-room..."
The clamor was too loud for him to continue immediately. Even Yohan could barely make out all his words when he resumed.
"...All measures to end Lubitz's suffering...renewed defense of the city...honor restored to Lubitz! Peace! Peace with honor!"
"I think we'd best get you back inside," Gisel said, her fingers on Gerd's pulse. "Ready, Yohan?" They put him back into bed as Rolf closed the balcony doors. Outside the crowd cheered on.
"When's the committee coming?" Gisel said.
"Tomorrow morning."
"Then no more exertion today. I'll come up after lunch to give you a sleeping draught...no arguments! I intend to be present during the meeting - no not to spy. If the strain's too much for you I'll end it."
"She will, too," Yohan said with a laugh. "I'd advise you not to cross her."
Gisel gathered her medical equipment to leave, saying she'd seen someone to speak with. When the door closed behind her Rolf turned to Yohan. "I can hardly believe it - the Wildcat here! We'd heard the stories of course...never expected to meet her."
"Nor me," Yohan said. "But you would be surprised to see her switch from being so fearsome to so feminine in seconds..."
Rolf smiled. "Oh yes? I'm sure she's had incentive."
Yohan blushed.
Misiker looked up from his pillow. "When I'm stronger we'll speak more...about Leijla.... I cannot accept her defiance...but I want to do the best thing." He drew in a labored breath. "For family...and you."
Yohan intended to accompany Gisel as she hurried down to the street before the crowd dispersed, but Rolf insisted on coming with him. They stopped at the mansion's door to speak to some of the crowd, who stood with the soldiers in the entryway. Rolf took him aside before he could leave. "You do understand that the family cannot set this betrothal aside merely upon your whims."
"I would have thought we deserved some say. It is our marriage we're discussing."
"Ah, you youngsters! Where do these novel ideas come from? You have my sympathy, but I have young children too. I would never wish to see them follow such an example."
Gisel had gone by the time Yohan went out into the street. Ylrich was the only family member still outside to ask. "Did you see my bodyguard leave?"
Ylrich sniffed. "Your assassin left with some people - sons of Bellis, I believe."
"My assassin, as you call him, has saved your father's life."
Ylrich didn't answer - his face reddened and he ran for the front door.
Yohan would have followed after Gisel, but when he went back to arm himself, Leijla's maid found him. "My mistress awaits you in the garden."
When they reached Leijla near the summerhouse he found Lady Jenn with her. After a few words of greeting, the lady smiled. "I'll be waiting over here, just out of earshot."
Yohan and Leijla stood silently until the lady reached a distant bench and sat down with her sewing.
"We have much to say," Leijla said. "But I don't know where to start."
Anger stirred in Yohan's breast. "His name will do."
"That I will not give, Sir. I shall guard his identity with my life."
"Is it true he's not a friend of the Misikers?"
"My father would hardly credit him to be - but he bears our family no animosity. The acts that made us enemies happened so long ago, but with the violence in the city now...I fear the hatred will be redoubled if peace cannot come soon!"
Yohan looked at her silently for a minute. Perhaps she would reveal more. The fellow was obviously of an enemy family, but that didn't provide him with the knowledge of his name. Since his arrival, he'd heard the names of many enemies of the Misikers. Bankers are only loved for what they can give - not for taking that due to them.
She held her own silence for that same time, and then countered. "When will you be honest with me, sir? Your companion - "
"Galen? What do you want to know about Galen?"
Leijla smiled. "Her name is Gisel, she said."
Yohan took a step back. "She told you? Damn the girl! Why would she do that?"
His mind raced. Likely Leijla would have found out soon enough - as soon as Gerd was strong enough to consider the matter. But she should have learned this from him, in a way of his choosing - he still had his father's wishes to consider. He'd hoped to hit on some way which would leave him an advantage over her - even allow him to have control over this betrothal.
Leijla cocked her head. "She said it was time for truth. A secret for a secret."
"It was mine. She had no right to give it away."
"And is it true she's a soldier? It seems fantastic."
"Aye, she is. And such a swordsman...I mean...such skill at arms."
"You admire her. Do you admire her more than me?"
He regarded her in silence, not wanting to give voice to the truth. Leijla was very beautiful, but Gisel...hers was a different kind of beauty. Her tongue and wit were sometimes hard to bear, but he found himself more willing these days to accept the sharp end of them. It even stimulated him.
"Your silence says you do."
He sighed.
"If you have no more wish to marry me than I have you - where does our difficulty lie?"
"Your parents. There's the problem. You cannot go to your father and say I have agreed to your marrying some enemy. If your choice is so abhorrent to him, will he not blame me for any misfortunate outcome?"
Tears started in Leijla's eyes and she dabbed at them with a tiny lace handkerchief. He found himself reaching out a hand to console her. When she tried to stifle a sob he pulled her against his chest to comfort her. The sweet scent of her filled his nostrils. Oh damn! Why was life so complicated?
The Lady Jenn put down her sewing to stare. She dipped her head toward Leijla. Yohan stepped away from her.
"I'm sorry, Yohan. I didn't mean to cry."
"Does Gisel have any ideas?"
"To end our betrothal?"
"Did she offer to help you and your sweetheart get together?"
"She tried to pretend every problem has a definite solution, but she admitted it didn't seem easy to find."
"That's just like her. She'd take on any impossibility..."
Leijla began to cry again. She hid her face against Yohan's shoulder. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I didn't mean..."
This time the Lady Jenn stood and put away her sewing. "I think we should continue our walk in the garden Leijla. Why, what ever is the matter child? Meister Yohan, I must ask you to leave if you insist upon upsetting my charge."
"I'm sorry. My words were foolish and clumsy. I meant difficult, Leijla. Difficult, but not impossible. If anyone can find a way...you have the cleverest agent on your side."
She raised a tearstained face. "And your goodwill as well?"
"My earnest assistance. Between the two of us - we've succeeded in the imp...seeming impossible tasks before."
The sound of a footfall made them turn, a footman came towards them. "Meister Yohan, Wannace told me to find you. A letter has arrived for you."
Yohan took his leave of the ladies and returned inside. Gisel came into the library as he was reading it. She regarded him steadily until he lowered the paper and looked up. "You were right," he said. "He'll see us whenever we like."
"Then we should go now. I'll send Rip down to the river to find a boat to ferry us over to the tower."
He would liked to have heard about her visit to the Bellis family, but she volunteered nothing. They readied themselves and stepped out the front door of the mansion. A troop of musketeers in city livery waited in the forecourt. An officer in a brightly burnished cuirass held up his hand to stop them.
"You are Yohan Felger and Galen Brough?"
"Yes, we are."
"Then you must come with me. The Margrave has ordered me to fetch you."
Gisel observed the clamor in the city streets as she and Yohan were taken to the Gravhalle under military escort. While some friends recognized them and cheered and waved, she soon learned the buzz of rumor and excitement was engendered by the strange sails on the horizon. They were now close enough that some mariners recognized them as Lubitz's own ships. Many took the return for a sign of victory. Others noted the visible damage, even from a distance, and worried.
The crowds' reaction to her and Yohan as they were pushed along by a dozen soldiers varied from sympathy to outright hostility. One well-dressed boy tried to spit on them. Others glowered silently, while friends of the Misikers offered words of sympathy and encouragement. The soldiers guarding the carved Gravhalle doorway at the head of the flight of steps stared grimly as they saluted the officer pushing Yohan and Gisel inside. The close escort took their swords and Yohan's pistol at the anteroom to the Margrave's office. Gisel kept her arm tight against her shoulder holster and they didn't find the automatic.
"Thank you," Magnus Garriker said as the officer ushered them into his presence. "Please wait outside, Lieutenant. You and your men. I wish to speak to these two alone."
Gisel looked at his white hands, laid on the table before him beside the periwig he had removed; his own hair was wispy and white. She noted the dark circles beneath his eyes, this was a man who couldn't sleep nights. She glanced about the room, the ponderous oak desk with a small space in the clutter in front of the occupant, a bookshelf with volumes missing and others tilted against their fellows, two escritoires with papers scattered and draws hanging open - this was already a government in crisis. Behind the Margrave, through the two windows opening onto the square, she saw the crowds mill about, arguing and gesticulating - but at least they were free. Would she leave this room in chains?
"Are we under arrest, Excellency?" Yohan asked as the door closed.
The Margrave regarded him a moment. "Do you doubt that you should be? Not yet - sit down."
Gisel tried to appear confident. "You've received word from your brother?"
He leaned forward, his white hands became fists on the edge of the desk. "Lerris thought he should let you continue - and I have held off arresting you. Subsequent events have not supported our decisions."
"Those pamphlets..." Yohan flashed an angry glance at Gisel.
The Margrave stared at her. "Do not deny your part in that. It alone, is enough to have you hanged." He leaned back against his velvet padding. "But you have also been of service to the city. I'm told Gerd Misiker would have died without your care."
"Don't forget the payment to the Hinterland Regiment," Yohan said. "That has made the citizens much safer."
"So that was Iskander silver? I didn't realize." He regarded her a moment. "Is Galen Brough your real name?"
She ignored Yohan's frown. "No, Margrave, I'm Lieutenant Gisel Matah - people call me the Wildcat."
The Margrave set an elbow on the chair's armrest and rested his chin on his knuckles, the corners of his mouth creasing from threat to amusement. "A woman! The notorious Wildcat?"
"I don't like the term notorious."
"Your disguise is perfect. Lerris didn't guess."
"I'd rather keep the false beard on. You're not insisting on any proof?"
The Margrave shrugged. "Why should you lie?"
"I came here as Yohan's escort," Gisel said. "But once here, it seemed I could be instrumental in helping Lubitz find a way out of the hostilities. Iskander is willing to send an envoy to discuss terms."
"Surrender terms? Curse you - no!"
"Peace terms, Margrave. We want to seek a fair settlement."
He glared at her suspiciously. "You're not the envoy?"
"My commander has assigned me to be security chief for any envoy we send. I'm here to sniff the wind - is there any chance of diplomatic protection?"
He waved a hand toward the windows. "Do you think I would grant diplomatic immunity with...this rabble...?"
"I guess it wouldn't count for much. It'd be dangerous for you, too."
He leaned forward. "If I were to keep the intelligence of your real identity within this room, I must know how many others share your secret."
Not out of the woods yet - Gisel tried to find the right words. "The Misikers, of course. And that damned churgeon - he knew me last year aboard Zigany."
"And..." Yohan prompted.
"There's an Imperial agent in the city - Commandante Zagdorf. He chased us here - he's learned who I am."
The Margrave jumped to his feet and reached for a bell-pull behind him. The door burst open and the lieutenant rushed in, sword unsheathed. The Margrave raised a hand to stop him and turned to Gisel. "Tell me where to find this man."
"We're not sure. His men are on the Whonmark ship in the harbor - he may be staying at the City Hostelry."
"We saw him yesterday morning," Yohan said. "He was at breakfast with the Whonmark Ambassador."
"That cursed f'Doornam - he's a sneaky wretch!" He looked toward the guard lieutenant, who now had three of his men at the doorway. "Go and find this Zagdorf - I want to speak with him. He may not refuse my invitation."
The officer saluted and Gisel watched until he closed the door before she spoke again. "I suspect they've been switching the allegiance of the mercenaries to Wolk Kachupin."
"The allegiance of mercenaries? There is no such thing!
"If you could guarantee their demobilisation, and not allow them to go elsewhere to serve against us, Iskander would underwrite their arrears."
"You have that kind of money?"
"Not now, but I'm sure I can get it."
Yohan started forward in concern. "Say no more! You cannot speak for - "
"It's merely a banking transaction, Yohan. You should realize that."
Yohan sighed and shook his head.
The Margrave sat back in his chair. "I believe I'm in charge of this discussion. You have more secrets you wish to keep from me?"
Yohan leaned forward earnestly. "I ask your indulgence, Margrave. This is a private Felger matter - if the bank wishes to transfer specie."
"Then I shall question Gerd Misiker. His loyalty is not suspect - beyond the matter of harboring an Iskander spy."
"He's only just learned that," Yohan said. "He's not well enough to decide upon a course of action."
"So who will? Am I to permit this Iskander spy free rein in the city?"
"I promised your brother I would be her surety."
"With what success?"
Yohan lowered his gaze in embarrassment. Gisel stood and stepped to the corner of the Margrave's desk. "We have not done the city harm. The loyalty of the Hinterland Regiment is no longer in doubt, the murderers of Bellis are chastened, the mercenaries who attacked the Misikers this morning repulsed and their ringleader killed - "
"The city in a turmoil over your pamphlet - "
"Isn't open discussion of your options a good thing? Now you know the feelings of the people."
The Margrave leaned toward her, clenched hand outstretched. "My city's policies are not decided in the streets."
"No, but enough people want peace that it's safe to make diplomatic contact with Iskander."
The Margrave spread his hands in resignation. "I hope your envoy is no more devious than you."
"You will meet with one?" Gisel said.
"I will consider it. First, I will find out the news from our ships when they anchor. It seems Iskander has not been as successful upon the sea."
"I listened to our bulletin at noon. I think you'll find your ships badly damaged - they'll not go to sea again for many months."
"Bulletin?"
"The Iskanders have advanced devices, Margrave." Yohan gestured to Gisel that she should take out her radio. "The kinds of things that are rumored about the Trigons."
Magnus Garriker stared as Gisel took out the radio to show him. "This tells you of an Iskander victory?"
"Perhaps a Tarnland one - we were less successful than we expected."
Yohan looked toward her intently.
"One of our new ships was badly damaged by a fireship. One of the Tarnlanders burned to the waterline. But we captured five of the enemy, at least five more are sunk. The Whone and Imperial ships are nursing their hurts as they make for Whonmark."
"A fireship?" Yohan said. "I thought they were only used against vessels at anchor."
"True, but one of the smaller Empire warships caught fire. Its commander launched it against our battle line instead of taking to the boats."
"A brave captain," the Margrave said.
"It cost him his life."
"So we will receive no succor from our returning fleet?"
"Afraid not. Lubitz enjoys this respite only because our forces are repelling the Whone and Imperial armies in the west. I'd suggest you take advantage of the lull to unify the citizens."
"Easier said than done." The Margrave sighed. "If it weren't for your damned cavalry I'd recall my brother and his army."
Gisel grinned briefly and shook her head. "Then our subterfuge is better than we thought. A couple of squadrons are wearing themselves ragged pretending to be a larger force. They'll need rest soon."
The Margrave set his fists on his desk and stood. "You're telling the truth? This is no deception? I'll hang you for a trick!"
Gisel switched on her radio, plugged in the antenna and stepped to the window. "I'll check with Iskander, but I'd say you have a week. Ample time to settle unrest here."
The Margrave watched every move as she pointed the yagi antenna and pulled out the mike to speak. "Stellar, Stellar, do you read me? This is Matah, in Lubitz."
"Read you, Gisel. What do you need?"
"Do you have a senior officer handy? I need to get an answer for the Margrave of Lubitz."
"President Scopes has just arrived aboard. I'll get him for you."
Gisel hid her surprise. So Scopes was with the fleet - he never went into harm's way before. That meant things were coming to a head. The starship crew was so few in numbers it was hard to maintain the appearance of Iskander being a nation. The Margrave walked over to join her at the window, looking askance at the radio. "So these things really exist? I had doubted the stories."
"Iskander has them, Sir," Yohan said. "And a professor at Heerford told me in confidence that the Trigons have the means to communicate with their distant officials.'
Gisel said nothing - Iskander knew the mysterious signals existed, and they were trying to track and decode them.
The radio came to life again. "Dirk Scopes here. What do you want, Lieutenant Matah?"
"I'm in the Margrave's office."
"You are? Can he hear me?"
"That's the idea, sir. He wants your reassurance before he agrees to speak to an envoy."
"Excellent move, Lieutenant. We must establish mutual trust. I assure you, Margrave, Iskander is absolutely serious about arranging a cease fire, despite the advantage we presently enjoy. We know the fortunes of war are fickle. Separating Lubitz from its allies is a great advantage to us, but I assure you, Lubitz will find the course to its own advantage as well. The interference of the Empire will harm both of us. Together, we can keep their power at a distance."
"You have plans to besiege the city?" the Margrave asked - perhaps as cautious of the communicator as of the communication.
"We'd need a lot more troops and we've not dared to move any without settling the naval situation. We have our hands full delaying the Imperial army from Makberg - probably won't disengage from them within a week."
The Margrave stared out the window toward the sea horizon. "I will consider meeting your envoy. But the situation is very unsettled here."
"I've heard."
"I cannot guarantee the safety of your agent in the city - even if I wanted to."
"I understand. I can order her out, if you wish."
"I cannot offer safe conduct."
"She's very resourceful."
Wow - she'd never had this consideration before. "I still have my other task here, Mr President. It seems about to bear fruit."
"Then I'll leave the arrangements up to you, Margrave. You know the situation best."
"I wish to end this conversation now," Magnus Garriker said. "You have given me much to think about. We can speak again?"
"I'd be glad to, but you and the Lieutenant will have to work out the arrangements."
The radio went silent.
The Margrave gripped her forearm tightly. "You must act either as my contact, or for your Felger business. I will allow you no latitude to spy."
"That's very fair. I think the envoy's task is most important now. I'll not send any further reports."
"I still cannot offer you any safety. Not until I have questioned this Zagdorf...and Wolk Kachupin as well."
"I've managed well enough so far, Sir."
"But what of the Misikers?" Yohan said. "They must be informed."
"The Wildcat must leave their mansion. I cannot protect them either."
Gisel switched off the radio and put it away. "Are we free to leave now - without an armed escort?"
"You'll be escorted into the square."
"But you want to see me again tomorrow?"
"Or the next day. I don't want to know where you are hiding. No one must find you in the city. Meister Yohan must remain in contact with the Misikers to act as liaison. I will inform him when I wish to speak to your President again."
Gisel dismounted from the porter-chair close to the harbor and shook out the creases in the dress she'd borrowed from Leijla. She threaded her way across to another chair, where Yohan helped Leijla alight. The crowds on the quayside pushed back and forth, the reek of unwashed bodies smothering the rank smell of the polluted harbor. Men and women shouted, children screamed and a few soldiers, almost lost in the crush, bawled orders and threatened with their weapons in the effort to keep order.
The noise of the crowd was momentarily drowned by the rattle of chains as the first of the battered warships, the eighty gun "Republic", let go its anchors in the roadstead.
Gisel's chair had passed some disorder on the way down from the mansion, where a troop of militia had fired above a mob and beaten some rioters senseless with their musket butts. Despite the chaos, this crowd held women with small children, middle aged couples with their families, the inevitable elderly gentlemen with their periwigs and pipes - all anxious for word or sight of the crews on the returning ships. Crowds of working men milled about, looking to earn tips for their assistance.
Three more smaller ships progressed slowly into the anchorage behind eager rowers in a small fleet of longboats. From the battle damage in the hulls, the jury-rigged masts, and the lack of prizes it was plain that Lubitz's mariners had won no victory. Many voices rose in thanks that they'd returned at all. Some already wailed their fear as people gave up any hope of seeing their loved ones alive.
For Iskander's navy, Gisel's father had reproduced the designs of the 74s from the last days of sailing warships on Earth. Constrained to build sailing ships he could find crews for, he launched the largest and most adaptable warships possible. Two deckers had formed the backbone of the old navies, Weatherly enough to keep any sea, with big enough guns to stand in the line of battle. Iskander's equaled the most powerful ever launched. The splintered sides of the Lubitz ships attested to the power of the cannon his foundries had cast, and the training of the crews.
Gisel turned her attention to her companions; Rolf Misiker and cousin Merik were taking care of Leijla. "Are you sure you'll not be oppressed by the crush of people, my dear?" Rolf asked.
She pressed a perfumed handkerchief to her face. "I'm sure I'll be fine, uncle. I do so want to see Lawri and Laon."
Rolf looked down at her. "If you find the sights or events too unpleasant, please have Yohan or your companion return you to the mansion."
Gisel knew Yohan was eager to go aboard the ships. "I'll take good care of her,"she said. "You and Yohan go aboard the flagship to find the brothers."
Leaving cousin Merik to chaperone the ladies, Rolf and Yohan hurried away. The first boatload of mariners was already landing at the jetty steps. Gisel gathered up her skirts to climb onto the plinth of a nearby statue to see over the heads of the crowd. She wore a multicolored sash over a scarlet dress that had already drawn more admiring looks than the bronze sea nymph beside her. She was careful not to reveal the riding boots she wore beneath it.
Yohan had gaped at her transformation into a fashionable lady, but she found the constraints of dress and custom somewhat irksome. Neither had the ride in the porter-chair impressed her.
"What did my uncle mean?" Leijla said, standing below her on the ground. "What distressing sights?"
"I'm sure you'll not be troubled by such - " cousin Merik started to say.
"The wounded and maimed," Gisel said, with a gentle smile. "They'll be landed first. Men never credit women's constitutions strong enough for the horrors of war, but we can steel ourselves as well as they. But I warn you Leijla, some of the sights will be hard to bear."
Merik said nothing but his pursed lips expressed his disapproval.
Leijla stared out at the flagship, twisting her hands together. "Do you think my brothers...?"
Gisel looked down at her. "Don't upset yourself by imagining things. If we have bad news today you'll need all your courage to accept it."
"One would think you had seen these things for yourself, Mistress Gisel," Merik said with a patronizing smile.
"Indeed I have, sir. But I'll not burden you with my womanly adventures."
Merik looked down his nose. He was stout and grey haired, but armed with the sword he'd wielded in an earlier war. He'd resolutely backed up her and Yohan when they tackled the mercenaries attacking over the garden wall - but she'd been disguised as Galen then. His attitude was typical - and had infuriated her many times before - but this was no time to set him straight.
When the words of the first mariners ashore were relayed through the crowd, people's anger and disappointment increased. Gisel heard one fellow blurt out, "Ten ships of the allies lost to they cursed Tarnlanders!"
"Our Strongarm is missing still," another said. "Pray to the Almighty Flame it is not foundered!"
"The Iskander warships is so huge - no single ship dare stand against them!"
Leijla turned to cousin Merik. "Did we suffer a grave defeat?"
He shook his head. "I hope not. Another reverse for the allies, but the misfortune is surely compensated by the return of our ships."
From her vantage point on the plinth Gisel saw the first longboat start back toward the flagship. She could just make out Yohan and Rolf Misiker on the passenger benches. A crowd of helpers conveyed wounded seamen up the quay and settled them on carts. She'd been told that they'd be sent either home or to the sickbay in the Citadel. Lubitz was quite advanced for a Gaian nation in the care of its citizen soldiers. This was a city worth her help.
More longboats landed at the jetty. The surge of the crowd below grew worse as more people arrived and pressed forward to learn who'd survived. Gisel helped Leijla up onto the plinth beside her, away from the crush. A fight broke out at the other end of the jetty and the militiamen forced their way through the crowd to reach it. Some tradesmen's apprentices in the crowd, boys of fifteen to twenty, pointed to the two girls on the plinth and edged closer. They were all drunk.
"They'm better to look at than the statue be'ind," one said.
"I should like to more than look, pretty lasses. If I climbs up will ye give me a kiss?"
"Please move on, lads," cousin Merik said. "These ladies are not for your conversation."
"Oh no? We aint good enough?" the bold one said again.
One of the apprentices stepped to place his back against the plinth. "Don't trouble these ladies, lads. T'aint fittin'."
Gisel had been told that Lubitz once prided itself on the safety of women in its thoroughfares but little pride remained in this beleaguered fortress.
"Jus' cos the old fool have a sword?" the bold one said. "Think ye 'ee could draw it in this crowd?"
A spotty faced youth faced cousin Merik. "Best you minds your own arse, grandad! Us'll send 'ee for a swim."
One of the older drunks caught hold of Gisel's skirts to pull himself up the plinth. She jerked the skirts away and booted him in the face. "Go and play elsewhere boys."
The fellow staggered back holding a bloody nose. Another took his place. "A frisky wench! Now you owes us restitution."
This brought a chorus from the group. "Aye! A kiss - a kiss in compensation."
Gisel had her pistol concealed beneath her skirts, but it would be too dangerous to draw it. Too dangerous for everybody in this press of crowd. "If any man of you has bathed this twelvemonth - has breath that don't reek of bad ale and garlic - I might consent to brush his cheek with my lips," she said. "If I weren't in the middle of the city of Lubitz, renowned for its civility and honor, I'd not even consider it."
"She'm a foreigner by 'er voice," the bold apprentice said, grinning up at her. "They says foreign girls is ravenous for a man's member."
Gisel jumped down in front of him. "What would you know about manhood? Take my hand and see if you can force my arm."
The fellow laughed. "See - I told 'ee she really wants it!"
She gauged the resolve of whole group, as she might a formation of enemy soldiers. "If I beat him - you'll leave?"
The apprentices laughed, and the spotty faced one pushed the bold one toward her. "Aye lass - if thee can, us'll swim to Tarnland."
The apprentice grasped her hand fiercely as the rest linked arms against the crowd to make a space. Cousin Merik tried to reach the front of the circle but several strong youths held him back. Leijla was forgotten on the plinth.
The bold fellow sought to twist her arm behind her but found Gisel would not yield. He jerked back to try to overbalance her. Bad move against someone trained in unarmed combat. Using his muscle strength as well as her own she ducked beneath him and sent him hurtling over her shoulder. His head rammed into the stone plinth and he fell at its foot. Gisel whirled upright and faced the others, her arms ready to grab the next.
"Bad cess! Bad luck, mate! She's a tricky bitch."
"Get up, mate," said the spotty one. "She were jus' lucky."
Gisel looked down at the still form. "Does anyone else want a try? It's a long way to swim to Tarnland."
They paused uncertainly. The drunk she'd kicked in the face pushed his way forward. "That were a foul blow ye dealt me. I wants satisfaction."
"No blow a woman gives to defend her honor is in foul," Gisel said. "Isn't that true, lads?"
One nodded. "Her have the right there."
"But you have done hard to our fellows, mistress," said the spotty apprentice, leaning over his unconscious friend beside the plinth. "You surely be a harridan and no mistake."
"If we part in friendship I'll offer a coin for your discomfort," Gisel answered. "But it's no offer of weakness."
The apprentice who'd first attempted to keep his friends in check spoke up. "I don't judge you weak, lady - but we'd like to come to your father's house to speak our grievances to him."
"You may come to my father's," Leijla said from her place on the plinth. "Gerd Misiker will judge who's to blame - but take care he doesn't take a horsewhip to you."
"Misiker! You be his child?"
"I am."
"An this lady be - "
"Her name's Gisel. She's tending to my father's wounds for his recovery."
The apprentices exchanged glances. They hardly dared raise their eyes to Gisel. "Us be mortal sorry for our rough manners."
"Forgive us Mistress. Us wouldn't cause offence to thy father if us'd known."
"An you, lady Gisel. Us'ns deserved the drubbin' us got."
Gisel nodded and immediately bent down to examine the unconscious youth beside the plinth. She felt a strong pulse but he was out cold; a sizeable lump grew on his head.
"I'll give you a thaler for some physic for him," she said, reaching into a purse in her sash. "He'll need something for his head when he wakes. If he shows dizziness tomorrow he'll need further care. You can contact me through the Misikers."
"That we will mistress," the spotty apprentice said, as they bent to pick up their fellow. "T'was a misfortunate encounter - no more. Our apologies."
When they went off toward the city, bearing their unconscious companion, cousin Merik rejoined Gisel as they stood below Leijla on the plinth. "That was lucky, lassie. But you prove a better watch keeper than I, weak old fool that I am."
"Don't blame yourself, sir. I found the right words and action to calm them - although the name Misiker might have saved all our trouble if we'd known."
Merik shook his head. "Who could have foreseen? Even good people are sunk in lawlessness with these troubles. They say the apprentices are close to rebellion."
A few minutes later Yohan and Rolf returned with a young man between them. Leijla gave a joyful cry. "Laon! Laon, it's me! Up here!"
The young man wore a pea jacket blackened by powder smoke and bloodstained white breeches, he reached to help her down and held her in a warm embrace.
"Thank the Flame you're safe - but where's Lawri?"
"Do not tell me," cousin Merik cried. "He's not - ?"
Laon looked over his sister's shoulder. "He was transferred to the Strongarm. We've not seen or heard of Strongarm since the battle."
"Perhaps there's word of the ship," Yohan said. He stared pointedly at Gisel. "Did it come ashore further up the coast?"
She shrugged. "If anything is known, I might hear word tonight."
Yohan glanced at the front of her dress, muddied from her contest with the apprentice. "Seth's blood! You're a mess. Whatever have you been up to?"
She grinned. "Oh, it was nothing. You know me - always in trouble."
The next morning Gisel rolled out of bed and started dressing when the gong sounded downstairs for breakfast. She smiled as Leijla sat up in bed, her mass of long blonde hair draped on the pillows. Gisel thrust away a stab of jealousy - that Yohan might one day see her this way. She sat back on the bed beside her. "I hope your new cousin wasn't restless in the night."
"You spoke in your sleep once."
"As long as that's all. I warn you, I have nightmares sometimes."
Leijla stared at her.
"All soldiers do, but men will never admit it."
As Leijla dressed, Gisel asked Emma to go to the Brother's Room with a message for Yohan. "Tell him to arm himself discreetly. We're going to the Knight's Tower."
Both women spoke up, horrified. "You may not go there! They don't admit women."
"Damn. That means I'll have to get back into the Galen disguise and try to sneak out of your chamber unseen. I'm afraid your reputation will be shot before this is over."
Emma set down the mirror she was holding up to her mistress. "I'm to go right away?"
"Yes, but hurry back. You'll have to keep watch for me in the hallway."
When Emma left, Gisel turned to Leijla, laying a hand on her arm. "I've found out where Strongarm and your brother Lawri are."
"You have?" Leijla's smile quickly faded at Gisel's reticence. "What's wrong?"
"Strongarm sailed into Leki's harbor and surrendered there. Your brother is aboard but he's badly wounded. Our medical people are examining all the casualties now and doing what they can - "
"But your physic is well-nigh magical! The way you've saved my father's life. Surely the same can be done for Lawri?"
"I don't have details - perhaps he'll recover - but I'd hate to hold out false hopes. Please keep this to yourself. Don't distress your family until we've learned more."
"I'm not sure I can - "
"You fear you cannot keep a secret, Mistress Leijla? After carrying on a love affair with a Kachupin for almost a year! You sell yourself short. You may tell them that Strongarm has surrendered at Leki, but say you know nothing more."
A half hour later, Yohan balked when he saw her in the Galen disguise again. "You said you'd blend in and hide among the female cousins until you finalized your arrangements to move out."
"I know, but apparently the Knights are allergic to women."
"That's not what we heard from Rip." Yohan smiled crookedly. "But that complicates identifying you - in all probability more people here know the real Galen Brough."
"One problem at a time. Let's test the waters once we see the Grand Master."
The Knight's Tower lay across the river basin from the city, and Gisel studied it as they descended the steps to board the boat Rip had found for them. The main tower inside showed four rows of small barred apertures like a prison, but the top floor held a stretch of leaded glass windows, like the stern gallery of a warship. A high wall with battlements surrounded the whole compound. As they neared the water gate, Gisel realized the whole was a far more imposing structure than she'd supposed. The walls went down into deep water and a bronze portcullis, green with age, wasn't raised until Yohan had handed up his letter from the Grand Master.
Their watermen rowed them into the interior harbor where several small sailing shallops and a lighter unloaded cargo. A dozen men labored about the vessels under the watchful eye of the grizzled sentinel.
"You'd best stay here with the boatmen," Gisel told Rip. "I don't want you getting into trouble lining up floosies."
"I wonder how many Knights are in the tower," Yohan said.
"But few, Meister," one of their watermen said. "Hundreds is still prisoners in Tarnland. The workers 'ere is all charity cases, workin' for their bread."
When they landed, a pimply-faced novice in a brown cassock came to the slipway to guide them.
Yohan smiled down at him. "So lad, are there many passengers and crew from Zigany quartered in the Tower?"
"I cannot say, Meister," the novice said. "Grand Master looks to all such affairs himself."
"You're Wasbian by your accent," Yohan said, patting his arm familiarly. "Have you been with the Knights long?"
"A twelvemonth, Meister. My father made a vow."
Gisel glanced up at the grey walls. "And he paid his vow with you?"
"It's an honor, sir. And I learn to read and to write, as well."
"I thought we said I was going to take the lead," Yohan murmured to Gisel as the novice opened a heavy door under an archway and led them to a winding stone staircase.
Gisel stopped at the bottom while the novice ascended around the corner out of sight. "Sorry Meister, I'll only speak when spoken to - "
"I don't mean that, but if we have to identify you later it'll be best if you've acted with decorum."
She did a little hop and skip up the winding steps before turning to smile at him. "You know how difficult that'll be."
"Flame's sake, but you can be trying."
At the top of the winding stair they emerged into a wide straight corridor with walls of neatly dressed stone. At intervals, rush lights flickered from sconces on the walls. They passed several iron studded doors before stopping at one that was partly ajar. The novice signed for them to wait in the corridor and stepped into it.
"The visitors, Grand Master."
The answering voice was all but inaudible to them. Yohan stepped forward but the lad pulled the door closed against his body, his head still inside the room. After a minute he turned. "You may enter, Meisters."
The room had a high vaulted ceiling of stone and stretched some fifty feet. It was lit by the leaded windows Gisel had seen from below. A heavy oak desk backed onto these, and the Grand Master rose from behind it to advance toward them. He was a tall, gaunt man with white hair and no periwig. He wore somber robes with a jeweled mandala at his throat.
"Please seat yourselves," he said, raising a hand toward some wooden chairs beside the end window. He returned to lower himself into the carved chair behind the desk. "Bring the chairs closer if you wish."
They did so and sat facing the desk.
The Grand Master glanced down at Yohan's letter on his desk. "You are Meisters Felger and Brough, from the Felgers in Lingdon. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"First, let me apologize for our not coming more promptly, Grand Master."
"Not at all. You have taken me a little by surprise today."
"I'm sorry, Sir. We were about to call upon you yesterday but were summoned to the Margrave instead."
The Grand Master's eyes crinkled. "The Margrave wished to do some banking?"
Yohan grinned. "I think little banking is done in the city these days."
"Indeed. Except for the fortuitous collection of the arrears to pay the Hinterland Regiment." His eyes rested briefly on each of them.
"Yes," Yohan said. "Gerd Misiker was mightily glad to raise it."
While Yohan engaged the Grand Master in conversation Gisel studied the room. A carved stone fireplace was set in the left wall and a table with three chairs and three settings located toward the center. The salt cellar confirmed it as the place the Grand Master ate his meals - apparently with two guests. There were several carved chests against the wall under the windows at the end and a single long tapestry covering the wall on the right, now behind them. She turned her head to look carefully at the hang of the tapestry.
"So, Meister Yohan," the Grand Master said. "I believe you were going to tell me the purpose of your visit to Lubitz. And the reason for requesting this interview."
"We came from Lingdon to carry a message to Baron Anton Felger. I expected Gerd Misiker to have knowledge of his whereabouts, but unfortunately he doesn't. I came into the possession of information that suggested you may know where he is."
The Grand Master raised his hands and shook his head. "I'm very sorry, Meister Felger, but I cannot tell you where your uncle is. Not since he left Lubitz on the first of April, six weeks ago."
Yohan sat back heavily in his chair. "Oh."
The Grand Master looked from one to the other and then smiled. "I regret your visit seems wasted, but perhaps if you were to explain a little of your mission, I might think of some way to help you."
Gisel tapped Yohan's arm and nodded toward the tapestry.
Yohan's eyes squinted at her but then opened wider. "That's very unfortunate, Grand Master. We have information and proposals which could prove vital to the Baron in his present circumstances. It must cause him much anxiety to be in a theater of war with so much coin. Where to hide it - how to get it safely away?"
"Whatever causes you to make such suppositions, Meister Yohan? I'm sure the Baron can be in no such quandary. Why, he came through here with no more money than expenses for his journey."
"Ah," Yohan said with a smile. "Which journey?"
The Grand Master raised his head to gaze at the tapestry behind them. "He went to Thalia - to make enquiries of several trading houses there that may require his banking services."
"But then we suspect he continued on to claim a payment...I won't mention a place name...before taking ship and finding he couldn't get out of the Inland Sea without facing investigation by the Imperial warships in the narrows. With the cargo he carried, he had no choice but to find an alternative route.... It's a great pity you cannot tell us where to find him - we know how to solve his problem and get the money safely to Weshortz as well."
Gisel heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her.
The Grand Master's eyes confirmed Gisel's suspicion. She turned at a footstep from behind the tapestry.
Yohan jumped from his chair. "Uncle!"
A man emerged from hiding. His beard was dark with a few threads of gray, his periwig full curled but scant of powder. Of medium height, well-built but running to stoutness, he was dressed in velvet and his rapier guards were decorated with garnets and rubies. He wore heavy gold rings on many of his fingers and had a gold chain across his scarlet waistcoat.
The Baron stepped forward with his arms opening. "You're learning negotiating tricks, young Yohan," he said in a gravelly voice with a strong accent. "Next, you'll be looking to take over d'whole business from me."
Yohan rushed to meet him. "Not so, Uncle. I look forward to serving you for many years yet."
They embraced and the Baron looked pleased to see his nephew, if a little chagrined at being caught out. When they stepped apart he raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Gisel. "Und this is not Galen Brough."
Yohan laughed. "As Gerd Misiker immediately recognized."
"So, who are you, young man?"
"With apologies - and especially to you, Grand Master," Gisel said, with a slight bow. "One small lie deserves another. I'm no young man at all, but Lieutenant Gisel Matah of Iskander Security."
She pulled off her false beard and moustache.
The Grand Master half rose. "Flame light us!"
"The Wildcat, Uncle. She's here as my escort - to bring Iskander's business proposals to you. She's also working to secure an honorable peace with Lubitz."
"Matah? The same as - "
"Yes, my lord Baron. You could have called upon my father in Tarnland and saved us all a great deal of trouble."
The Baron moved away toward the chairs beside the table and turned one around before seating himself facing them. Gisel smiled to Yohan; did he recognize the movement as one which gave him time to think?
The Baron stared fixedly a moment. "We have the makings of a formidable team, here. Do you conduct banking business for d'Felgers or for Iskander, Yohan?"
"I want a partnership which would favor both, Uncle."
"Isn't that a decision to be made by the senior partners - und myself?"
"Which is the consideration I came here to initiate."
Gisel studied the Baron's body language. "As the Emperor's banker - we understand your cooperation with Iskander is dangerous."
The Baron turned his gaze to regard her. " We ...I take it you mean Iskander. Do you have authority to speak for your government?"
Gisel shrugged. "My authority extends as far as security for your meeting with Jon Mich'l, our Operations Director. But he trusts my judgement. You must have learned enough about us in Tarnland to tell I can quickly present your proposals to my superiors for their approval."
Yohan leaned forward, his eyes shining. "I know you've heard of the Wildcat's exploits in the war. Gisel is a shrewd planner as well as a deadly fighter. I think she will help our negotiations."
"I am not ready to negotiate anything. I want to know what proposals are on the table, and how Iskander intends to keep them secret from the Emperor."
"Yohan has Director Mich'l's original proposals for you. I'll ask Iskander to send me written updates for you to examine as well."
The Baron nodded. "I will consider everything you can give me, but I will accept no conditions and no deadlines. In a few minutes, we will go up onto d'battlements to talk privately, Yohan."
Yohan inclined his head and the Baron turned to Gisel again. "How did you know I was collecting payment due on the Bank's loans to King Wazda? Does Iskander spy upon its friends?"
"No, it would have saved lives if we did," Gisel said. She forced away the image of Marc's face, to keep her composure. "I didn't learn about your presence in Tarnland until a couple of days ago. I had some records checked."
"May I ask what kind of records betrayed me?"
Gisel regarded him steadily. "I won't necessarily answer. But let's say the tip-off was learning Zigany and your ship were moored together in a Thalian port. I guessed what was being transferred. I'd suggest Iskander takes delivery of that money here, for my mission. We can transport the same amount to your main branch at Weshortz."
The Baron's face was impassive. "I do not have the entire payment here. I loaned some to customers in Thalia."
"If truce negotiations are successful, we need two hundred thousand Ducats for the city."
The Grand Master looked from one to the other. "But surely you take risks on an assumption. At this moment, the city and Iskander are still enemies."
"So the Margrave pointed out. I'd like to keep the money in your care, for now," Gisel said. "But many people see the sense in following Leki's lead. The Margrave would make peace with us, but the time isn't right. He must create the right political situation for the city to make the switch."
"Gerd Misiker is for it?" the Baron asked.
Yohan nodded. "Most everyone except the Kachupins."
"What is the money for?"
Gisel answered. "To settle debts; the fleet needs paying; the city must pay off the mercenaries. To keep them from being used against us, Iskander is willing to pay for their victualing to transfer them by sea to Tarnland."
"So they don't endanger the city further," Yohan said.
"And the ships to convey them?"
"At Leki right now, unloading reinforcements for our garrison."
"Iskander has this war well under control it seems," the Grand Master said.
"We have some advantages."
"I did have a conversation with your father, at a reception in Tarnland. But it was all about steel," the Baron smiled. "He did not know who I was, but had I known I would meet his daughter - "
"He would have offered to show you over the steelworks."
"I had no doubt that he would, but I did not want to become too cordial. The Emperor's displeasure can easily become fatal. I settled for disguising myself in working man's clothing and riding upon the remarkable conveyance you people call a steam train."
"I should love to ride it too," Yohan said.
Gisel formed an image of the two - small boys watching trains. She quickly reined in the thought. "I have an idea for keeping our arrangements away from the Emperor's anger, but there are no ironclad guarantees. Write him a letter. Explain what you're doing - but present your action as intended to produce advantage for the Empire."
The Baron's jaw dropped.
"That's the wildest thing you've said yet!" Yohan said.
"Is it? If you can't change things, the next move is to turn them to your advantage. We suspect he's jealous of Iskander's secrets. He'd concede much if he thought you were stealing them for him."
"Great Flame." The Grand Master said with a smile. "She has an idea there."
"He'll be insanely furious," the Baron mused. "Doubtless he'll issue a hundred directives for my arrest and execution. But if I stay out of reach he may well cool down and countermand them before they're carried out. I am told he has issued instructions for artisans to duplicate some of your Iskander advances."
"Before we make too many plans we must mention Commandante Zagdorf," Yohan said. "The Emperor's people already know I've come here to present Iskander's proposals to you. Zagdorf followed us from Brehafen. He tried to capture us."
The Baron frowned. "Zagdorf? I've heard of him. He is one of the Emperor's most trusted agents."
"He's no simpleton. His men caught me once," Yohan rubbed ruefully at his face and showed a couple of broken teeth. "I'd have been tortured if Gisel hadn't rescued me."
The Baron glanced at her, in invitation.
"He pursued us from Lingdon," she said. "Caught us up at Brehafen. Yohan's journey was betrayed before we left the city."
The Baron looked sharply at Yohan. "Is this true?"
"I can hardly credit it was anyone from my Father's mansion - "
"It couldn't have been from my end," Gisel said. "Zagdorf was looking for the real Galen Brough. Yohan's father hired him as bodyguard."
The Baron's expression darkened. "This will have to be investigated fully."
"My father hates the very thought of Iskander, but I cannot believe he . . ." Yohan choked on the words and looked hurriedly away.
Gisel put a hand on his arm. "Don't upset yourself - the whole household knew."
At that moment came a knock upon the door. "I will get that," Yohan said, hastily rising to his feet and turning his face away.
The Baron raised an eyebrow toward Gisel.
"He's come a long way this trip," she said, her voice hushed. "He'll do."
At the door Yohan admitted Silon BanGetz, the Baron's bodyguard. "Well, young Meister! I never expected to see you in Lubitz."
BanGetz strode in and stopped before the Baron, but his eyes were fixed upon Gisel. "Can I speak - in front of this...person?"
"Lieutenant Gisel Matah - Iskander Security," she said standing and putting out a hand.
BanGetz turned his head with an open-faced stare to the Baron, who nodded and smiled.
"Ja. It seems Iskander has broken through our caution, Silon. But it's taken the Wildcat and young Yohan to accomplish it. You can report in their presence, it seems we are allies at the moment, whether I like it or not."
"Then we had better make plans immediately. An Imperial officer is active in the city. He's secretly hired the city's mercenaries - with forty thousand ducats of Empire gold."
"That's Zagdorf," Gisel said. "I think it's time we did something to upset his plans."
Gisel traveled to the Gravhalle by porter-chair, feeling shut-in and vulnerable even though she kept the window curtain open and looked out often. Yohan had gone ahead of her. He had Marc's radio and reported that one of Zagdorf's troopers followed him to the Gravhalle. She knew a well dressed lady could not walk through the streets, it would attract too much attention, but she was attentive to every lurch of the chair. She kept her hand near the unobtrusive pistol slit Leijla's dressmaker had added to her gown.
Rolf Misiker walked alongside the chair as chaperone. He leaned in to speak with her when the porters set it down at the bottom of the Gravhalle steps. "I must say it's a long time since I've seen as many mercenaries about the streets as there are today."
"I mean to speak with the Margrave about that - it's not a good sign."
Rolf handed her out of the chair onto the cobbles. "How so? The mercenaries are in the city's service. Perhaps they've resolved to earn their wages honestly."
Gisel shook her head. "They're too active - I'd be cautious. When you get back, you should talk to your brother about asking the Hinterland Regiment for extra guards."
Gerd Misiker had risen from his bed for the first time that morning. Gisel decided moderate activity on his feet would be good for his wound, which was still draining fluid. He established himself in the library and was conducting the family's business from there. Lady Tanis had ordered a day-bed moved for him.
When Gisel entered the Gravhalle she found Yohan waiting for her in the ante-room. "Where did Zagdorf's man go?"
Yohan jumped up and took her hands in his. "He followed me as far as the square. He thought he was unobserved, but I did your double-back trick. What is happening?"
She waited for him to kiss her, but he seemed too distracted. She shrugged . "They've decided we figure in the equation again."
"What equation?"
"I wish I knew. You found out f'Doornam's rooms at the hostelry?"
"On the first floor - the Nobleman's Suite. "
"You'll go there after we've spoken to the Margrave. Stay clear of Reba,"she said with a grin.
"Gisel - you know me better!"
She stepped closer to him and nuzzled against his neck. "I want you to do a bit of snooping. I have a feeling this business has become a race."
"You mean - who will act first?"
Gisel nodded. "And Zagdorf has a head start."
There was a sound at the door as an orderly appeared. "The Margrave is ready to see you now."
The office was even more disordered than the last time. Open books lay everywhere, proceedings of the Hundred, and old laws. The Margrave was hurriedly adjusting his periwig, that had left a dusting of white powder on the desk.
"Ah, Meister Yohan," Magnus Garriker said, rising to his feet as they entered, "and this is Lt. Matah? The transformation is remarkable - you look far too sweet a young lady to be a threat to anybody."
"Thank you, Margrave. It's rare that I get the opportunity to dress elegantly."
He seated himself carefully, flipping the tails of his coat up as he did so. "The streets were quiet as you came? There's a tense feel to the city today. Those mercenaries are everywhere."
"I know what you mean," Gisel said, "Did you question Zagdorf?"
Magnus Garriker's face darkened. "My men said they could not find him."
Gisel strove to keep her poker face - how many of the city's officers were still loyal to him? Given half a company, she could have easily found Zagdorf. "The mercenaries have been paid. In Empire gold - Zagdorf must have collected it from your returning ships."
Magnus Garriker clenched his fists. "Never! I was not told of it!"
Gisel shrugged. "We have a new contact in the city. He served with some of these mercenary captains before. He says they've been paid as much as forty thousand Ducats."
"Iskander has more spies? I told you - "
"No, Margrave," Yohan said. "This is a Felger man."
Magnus Garriker stared at them for several moments before rising to his feet and going to the door. "Orderly! Orderly! Send word to Admiral Cheff - I want him at the Gravhalle right away."
He returned and plumped heavily into his chair. "We shall see what the Admiral has to say. If he's come back carrying secret instructions from the Emperor - "
"A perilous ally," Gisel said. "The Emperor has no scruple when it comes to power, and getting his own way."
"I've sent instructions for my brother to bring his army back to the city. I thought Wolk Kachupin's animosity had exhausted itself against Gerd Misiker - but perhaps his ambitions lie in this office instead."
Gisel glanced at a pair of crossed swords on the wall. Lerris had better move fast. "You're still leaning toward the truce? I guess you'd not have told me you were pulling back your field army otherwise."
"Is your President Scopes ready to speak to me?"
"I'll call Stellar right away and have him paged." Gisel took out her radio from a clutch purse and walked to the window. "He'll be available in a few minutes."
"Good. Would you like a glass of wine while we wait? I'll have an orderly fetch refreshments."
"That would be welcome, Margrave," Yohan said with a smile. "I'm to move to the Knights' Tower today, but their victuals are rather spartan."
Gisel grinned at him in pretended sympathy while the Margrave reached for the bell pull. She turned back to the Margrave. "Did the Admiral's version of the naval action match what I told you from Iskander?"
"I think so, although your information was more complete. There's no word of the Strongarm - "
"Strongarm sailed into Leki and surrendered. The ship was too badly damaged to go further."
Magnus Garriker's face grew grave. "So - four hundred more prisoners of war?"
"Many of them badly wounded - but please don't mention anything to the Misikers until we learn more about Gerd's son."
An orderly entered with wine and some savory pies on a silver tray. As he set the tray in a small space on the Margrave's desk he glanced at the visitors and then back at Magnus Garriker. "There's a matter of concern, Margrave, at the docks. Shall I say more in front of - ?"
"Yes. Go on."
"A number of the returned sailors have left their ships. There's a very ugly gathering at the dockside."
Magnus Garriker closed his eyes momentarily. "We need more coin to pay off the ships - victuals aboard are running low." He gestured toward the orderly, who had retired to the door. "When Admiral Cheff arrives you must tell him he'll have to buy supplies for the fleet at his own expense. He can add it to his accounts and I'll sign a scrip for it."
"Yes, Margrave," the man saluted and went out.
"Iskander can produce two hundred thousand Ducats in coin for your use, Margrave," Gisel said. "President Scopes will decide if it's to be a loan or an outright subsidy."
Garriker flashed a glance at Yohan. "Two hundred thousand? So this is the Felger part of the deal?"
Yohan shrugged and took a large bite of savory pie.
Magnus Garriker smiled. "I shall draw my own conclusion. The Grand Master is a friend of the Felgers - and you say you're to move there. There's a bodyguard with a military background you've spoken with since you were last here - and Zigany returned some days past."
"It seems I need not explain further, Margrave."
"No? I suspect there are more details yet, but I'll leave them for the present."
Gisel's radio crackled. "Scopes here."
"Magnus Garriker, Mr President - I've taken your proposal for a truce under advisement, but I need time to bring about the climate which will allow us to make it public."
"Who else is present at this conference?" Scopes said.
"Myself and Yohan Felger, sir," Gisel said.
"Very well. What do you need for that 'climate'?"
"My brother is returning his army to the city."
"Good. We've reinforced our own position at Leki. We freed the bulk of the Leki Regiment - captured at Skrona. I can send you our cavalry - but only after the truce is firm."
"I understand. But you control this campaign?" Garriker said. "The Autarch in agreement with your strategy and your intentions for a truce?"
"Yes. Iskander commands the land operation at Leki and has overall control of all southern operations. Wazda has complete control of everything in Tarnland."
"This truce - it will mean a cessation of hostilities between Lubitz and the autarch in Tarnland as well?"
"Yes. But Iskander cannot make any deals for the permanent peace - nor about the fate of the old Lubitz possessions. That will need Wazda's agreement at a peace conference."
"What about the money I asked about, sir?" Gisel said.
"Jon Mich'l has come to an agreement over it. You can access it at any time."
"Will there be any controls placed upon our use of the money?" Magnus Garriker asked.
"It must be used to pay off and stand down forces that could be used against us."
"The mercenaries - ?"
"And the fleet."
"These conditions seem reasonable, even generous, but I cannot accept them unilaterally."
"Then we come to the crunch, Margrave. We cannot allow Lubitz to drag out its decision indefinitely. Iskander wants a definite deadline - say two days to present the truce proposal to the Hundred. Two more days to accept or reject."
"I cannot possibly - "
"I'm sorry - take it or leave it."
Magnus Garriker leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I will do what I can."
"Lieutenant Matah will remain in contact with you - until we can send a senior envoy. If Lubitz should call off negotiations, we require your government to facilitate her departure."
"You need not threaten me. I offer her what protection I can, but the city is not united. I will not be responsible for the actions of others - nor for the consequences if your unwise deadline causes open conflict."
"I rely upon you to manage those problems, Margrave. Lieutenant Matah will receive our terms of negotiation tonight. Is there anything else?"
"How quickly can we expect relief, if the Hundred agrees to negotiate with your envoy?"
"You're prepared to meet him on an Iskander ship?"
"It's customary to treat on neutral soil."
"Another delay? I'm not waiting for some ship to beat up and down the Inland Sea for days. You can talk aboard this ship, just offshore. "
Magnus Garriker sat back with a sigh. "I accept. You may expect my fullest cooperation."
Scopes signed off. As Gisel replaced her radio in her purse a series of knocks came at the door. "Margrave! Margrave!"
"Come in! What's the meaning of this uproar?"
An orderly officer entered. "Admiral Cheff, Margrave."
"What about him? Is he here yet?"
"He's disappeared."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"He was last seen before sun-up apparently - taking horse with his entourage. They set out on the Novrehan road!"
Another orderly rushed in beside the first. "The mariners, Margrave! They've joined forces with the apprentices. Several thousand are on the march - it's a mob - coming to the Gravhalle to present their grievances."
"Send word to my military commanders. I want four companies in the square - on the double."
"Impossible - the Hinterland Regiment is spread very thin."
"Then send for the mercenaries. I'll meet this rabble with soldiers at my back."
Gisel paused before closing her clutch purse and shook her head in disapproval. She reached out to catch Yohan's arm. "Let's get out of here before the mercenaries arrive. We've things to do."
Yohan and Gisel stopped at the bottom of the Gravhalle steps amid a press of people hurrying in and out. He did his best not to smile at her impatient scowl.
She swore under her breath. "God damn this fancy dress - I have work to do."
He urged her into a clear space near the bottom step. "That does not sound very ladylike. What do you need?"
"Ladylike, my ass! I'd better get to the Hinterland barracks to tell the Colonel what's up. I don't trust the Margrave's orderlies to do it. I'll have to go back to the Misikers and change back to Galen Brough first."
"I'll find you a porter chair and some young officer to escort you."
"I don't want an escort. Jeeze - he could be Zagdorf's plant."
"Then I will come with you."
"No you won't - there's too much to do. Get over to the Hostelry. This mob may draw out our enemies - the way Bellis's execution did." She grabbed his arm. "Isn't that young Ylrich over there? Gerd's youngest - he'll do."
Yohan waved to attract the lad's attention. Ylrich was a most unlikely escort, but he didn't know the secret of Gisel's other identity. "He'll not be any protection."
She patted the front of her dress where her pistol was concealed. "No matter. As long as he has good eyes."
Yohan watched the porter chair until it left the square. At the Hostelry, he hurried straight to the major-domo's office. "I have a duty from the Margrave. I need a room overlooking the square for an hour or so."
"Indeed, Meister. For what purpose?"
Yohan drew himself up and put a hand to his rapier hilt. "The city's business - this mob approaches. I'm to identify the troublemakers."
The major-domo rose from behind his desk, rather reluctantly. "Will the city pay for the use -?"
"Will your patrons pay your subsistence in the Gravhalle cells?"
The man hurried to the door to summon a footman.
Upstairs, Yohan paused at the door and handed the footman a Thaler piece. "Thank you, my man. I'll commend you to the Margrave for your service."
"Much obliged, Meister. I hopes you sees what you needs."
He stepped inside, closed the door and bolted it. The room held a large four-poster bed, two armchairs, and a small writing table with a brass candelabrum; a glass door led to the balcony. He didn't need to open it to see the events unfolding below. The mob had arrived on the square, its boldest members beginning to move across it. A squadron of mercenary cavalry with drawn sabers sat their horses in front of the Gravhalle and stared at the mob impassively.
He put his ear to the wall to listen to the adjacent room - f'Doornam's suite. He heard voices and the footfalls of more than one person, but couldn't distinguish anything. He moved to the outside door again to look at the layout of the balcony. The dividing walls of the rooms extended outwards to close off the balconies from one another - ensuring guests' privacy.
A rumbling noise drew his eyes into the square. He opened the door and went outside, carefully looking toward f'Doornam's suite before advancing too far out. He made sure not to lean out on the balustrade, so as not to be seen.
The noise came from four heavy ox drays being pushed into the square by the apprentices. They shouted and joked as they labored at their task. Their banter told him they planned to use these wagons for protection if the cavalry should charge. The mob had well organized elements - he looked down to see if he could identify the leaders.
A deep roar went up from several thousand throats as the Margrave and his officials of the Hundred appeared at the top of the steps. The Margrave held up his hand for silence. When the uproar of the crowd lessened he began to speak, his words faint and indistinct across the intervening distance.
"Can you hear what he says?" said a closer voice.
The voice came from the balcony of the suite next door. Yohan tried to remember where he'd heard the accent before.
"Barely, but his words count for little. I warrant he will only appease them."
"He's a diplomat. He always seeks to conciliate."
Ah, it was f'Doornam.
"He's a weakling - not fit to be Margrave of a city like ours!"
"He had more fire once. This war has beaten him down."
"When our armies take the field in full strength, he'll regain his courage from our victories." That was Zagdorf's voice - strange the Margrave's men had not been able to find him.
"If he still amounts to anything then."
Yohan focused on the third voice, it must be Wolk Kachupin.
Zagdorf spoke. "What do you plan to do with him?"
"I will offer him one chance - but I care not if he takes it - "
Then f'Doornam's Whonmark accent. "Many citizens love him, you would do well to make him an offer."
The angry voices and dissent in the square grew to a crescendo and Yohan could no longer make out the conversation beside him. The Margrave continued to shout against the mob. Eventually they quietened again and Yohan pressed himself to the balcony wall to hear the men next door.
"I have word that Lerris Garriker has ordered his army out of its positions, but it does not advance," f'Doornam said.
"It's returning to Lubitz."
"What? He should be advancing to take the Iskanders in the rear!" Zagdorf's anger made Yohan smile.
A high-pitched snort identified f'Doornam. "Should, but he does not. It is one more action that tells me the Garrikers plan to copy the traitors of Leki and sue for peace."
Zagdorf's voice positively dripped venom. "The Emperor will deal harshly with such weakness. In the final victory the city will pay for cowardice in blood."
"Do not fear! The city will hold firm - I shall see to it!"
Yohan stiffened, that was Kachupin. He held his breath, this was what he came to hear.
"When?" Zagdorf demanded.
"Ah - that is my secret. You will find out when that fool upon the steps does."
"Let us go inside - I cannot stand to watch a ruler bargain with such rabble. I should have loosed the sabers upon them an hour ago."
"Ah, Commandante. That's why you're still a soldier and I'm an ambassador."
Yohan stood alone on the balcony staring down at the crowd. He no longer listened to the angry voices calling out at the rear, or saw men shake makeshift weapons in the air. Had he heard enough? Kachupin had not said when, but obviously he intended to act. He meant to take control, and the plotters had a thousand mercenaries at their backs.
The crowd was starting to break up. One voice called out about a payment - likely the ducats Gisel had promised the Margrave had won the day. The mob would be dispersed without bloodshed. Yohan went back into the room, closing the balcony window behind him. All he needed was for the square to clear. He went to the outer door and opened it narrowly. No sound from next door and no movement in the hallway. He stepped out and dashed to the staircase. He had better get to the Margrave as soon as possible - the danger was closer than anyone had guessed.
An hour later, Yohan almost ran down the steps of the Gravhalle. The place was a madhouse. Twice he'd tried to impress the substance of Wolk Kachupin's words upon the Margrave. The second time, Garriker seemed to listen, but was immediately distracted by more alarms from the fleet. In the bedlam of officers and Committee members, the panic of information and orders following the riot - he wasn't sure his words sank in. He'd have to radio Gisel - she would make Garriker pay attention to the warning. His borrowed radio was at the Knights' Tower.
At the Knights' Tower he went to the monk's cell assigned him to call Gisel. No answer. He left a message for her with the person on Stellar. Surely they would tell her. He flung the issued monk's habit over his street clothes and weapons and pounded up the staircase to the Baron's room.
"Ah, Yohan. Come in - I have been awaiting you." The Baron had an almost-luxurious cell near the Grand Master's rooms - it even had two chairs and an escritoire for him to sit and work.
"Bad news."
The Baron's smile vanished.
Yohan advanced into the room. "Gisel sent me to spy on f'Doornam - I think Wolk Kachupin means to stage a coup."
The Baron set down his pen and pushed the paper away. "By the Flame! When?"
"I didn't hear him say. But I believe it will be soon."
"Who have you told?"
Yohan stepped to the window - and then turned away without looking out. "I went straight to the Gravhalle. With the riot, and the chaos it caused there - I don't think the Margrave understood what I was saying."
The Baron shook his head. "Magnus Garriker is an excellent man - used to be an excellent Margrave. But I suspect he is exhausted."
"I called Gisel. She has a way of getting her message across."
The Baron smiled. "I noticed. So, what is wrong?"
Yohan paced to the window again. "I couldn't make contact with her. I think she went to the Hinterland Barracks. I left a message for her with Stellar."
"Searing Flame! She's very brave - or very reckless. What other spy would visit the commander of an enemy regiment?"
Yohan's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't thought of it that way. "I think the Hinterlanders look on her as a friend. I hope to Flame they do."
"I'll have a word with the Grand Master. He can send a senior monk to Garriker to repeat the warning. Do you want me to send BanGetz to the Hinterland Barracks?"
Yohan put a hand to his face. "Would you? I think I should go myself."
"I will summon him." The Baron stood to reach for a bell-pull. "Meanwhile, seat yourself, your pacing makes me dizzy."
Yohan grabbed the back of the chair to turn it toward the Baron. He sat down on the edge, as if ready to launch himself back across the room.
The Baron smiled. "You admire the girl."
Admire? More than that. Why hadn't he seen it before? She was the most important person in the world to him. "Very much. And how at odds with one another we were when we began this journey."
"How does she regard you?"
"More favorably now, I believe - but it could hardly be otherwise. I'm afraid I was no credit to the Bank when I started."
"You were fresh from school - your skills were of dissertation, not of clandestine activity."
"I suppose so."
"Do you admire your Iskander Wildcat more than your betrothed?"
Yohan slid further onto the chair. "It seems Leijla is in love with another. Gisel advises me to let her go, if our fathers can be persuaded."
"Does she? And you have heard this from the child's own lips?"
"Yes, I did. I promised to help her. It seems the lover is of an enemy family, but she will not reveal his name."
"Who do you think it is?"
"I haven't had much time to investigate - so much else happening. Gisel will likely find out, she is sharing her room.
The Baron inclined his head toward him. "And she will tell you?"
"Why shouldn't she?"
"I hoped you could tell me. The Felger's security in this venture you want depends upon the Wildcat and her friends. I hesitate to see the Felgers at such risk."
"I think the Iskanders keep important secrets well."
"Und the Emperor has ways to uncover them! I dare not let him learn the extent of our dealings with the Iskanders. Nor can I risk any open trading. But I cannot keep from enjoying their expertise. I'm going to shut down our own iron mines and switch our steel manufactures to Iskander metal. I think to set up a secret holding company - I'm not sure where to base it, but perhaps Thalia would be safe."
"Or Lubitz, when they make peace with Iskander," Yohan said.
"If they do. This holding company will handle the movement of commodities and also look into investing in Iskander enterprises. You told me Jon Mich'l said Iskander cannot go on financing its activities from bullion."
"And who will run this holding company?"
"It will be under my direct control, but I need a local manager." The Baron looked at Yohan steadily. "I would offer the post to you - if I could be sure you'd not be under the Wildcat's thumb."
Yohan gripped the chair arms. "Why should I be?"
"Oh come now! You're a young man - you'll not be content to admire her from a distance much longer. Do you expect to marry her?"
"Marry! The Wildcat?" Yohan stopped to draw in a breath. Was it possible? If it was - why was he sitting here talking? Where was BanGetz? They should leave at once. "She's a wild creature...full of life and vigor...she would take an army to catch...to clip such wings - "
"I believe she esteems you more than you think. She may well choose an honest, steady young man. But I agree with much of what you say - no husband will ever tame or rule her. She'll submit only as far as she wills - which is why I say...can I trust you to keep your head and not be ruled by her? You'd be her equal in the match if you'll not let her bewitch you."
He jumped to his feet. "Ah, I think I'm half bewitched already - "
"Not so, lad. You're merely in love."
After leaving the Gravhalle at midnight, Gisel walked ahead of the city militiamen to talk to their young officer. He was about her age, but so naive - the Margrave should have sent all these green troops to be trained by the Hinterland colonel she'd spoken with that evening. Lubitz needed more officers like him, or even more young men like Yohan. That was good work he'd done today.
"The Margrave said to take you wherever you wished, Meister Galen," the ensign said.
"The Misikers will do."
"Are you expected this late at night?"
"I doubt it." No - it would be damned awkward getting back to Leijla's room as a man. A pity she hadn't a spare radio to leave with the girls - Emma could have met her at the door.
The ensign glanced at her rapier. "Your name sounds Lingdish - I suppose you were sent to assist our poor city by their good King Heri."
"You could say that," Gisel agreed.
"The Margrave must respect your assistance. He had us running to carry out your words tonight. A half section of horsemen to take word to General Garriker! He has never sent more than one rider, before."
"Do you understand why?"
"Not really, sir. Is there some trouble from the cursed Iskanders?"
Gisel couldn't restrain a snort of laughter. "Not exactly. The trouble lies closer to hand - I brought warning that the mercenaries might intercept a lone rider."
"By the Flame, Sir! Why would they do that?"
Gisel regarded the lad silently a moment. She hoped to hell he wasn't typical of the allies she'd chosen, but suspected the city's militia were the weakest of the bunch. The best soldiers had been sent off to Tarnland - ironic that she'd been instrumental in putting so many of them in an Iskander prison camp. If the Hinterland Regiment could keep the city safe until Lerris Garriker's army returned, they might just make it. Wolk Kachupin and his allies were unscrupulous but not likely to take bold risks.
"The city is close to armed insurrection, lad. Doesn't this silence in the streets tonight tell you mischief is afoot?"
The ensign stared at her. "I wondered at the unaccustomed silence...but...I thought it meant something good."
"The Margrave has sent a message for his brother to dispatch a flying column ahead of the slower moving army. The move is designed to keep control over the mercenaries. Did he not order you to be especially alert tonight?"
"That he did, Sir. I thought he meant for robbery, not for open rebellion."
Gisel suppressed a sigh. "And the city gate guards - did he give them new instructions?"
"To watch for General Garriker's troops and let them in."
"Good - there's not much else we can do. Just keep your eyes open tonight and watch for mercenaries."
"We've not seen a one."
Gisel's breath caught. To her, that meant only one thing - they were preparing themselves. When did Wolk intend to make his move? She clenched her fists - what the hell could she do about it? She had but one small Iskander force at her disposal - Hannan's SEAL section. Should she order them in or keep them safe at sea?
They reached the darkened gateway to the Misiker mansion and halted as the Hinterland sentry there brought his musket to the ready. The ensign called out the password and the sentry gave the countersign and reply. "Approach, friend."
"Thank you, men," Gisel said to the militiamen. "You can leave me here."
"Good night to you, Meister Galen," the ensign said. "I hope your dour tidings are proved wrong."
"So do I, lad," Gisel said, entering the Misiker forecourt through the narrow gap the sentry parted in the double gates. "May the Flame watch over all of you."
Using the unaccustomed benediction gave her unease. She looked about the narrow forecourt - the guard party seemed smaller than before, but that was likely her doing too. The Colonel was smart enough to gather in his strength to consolidate his position. Should she even spend the rest of the night here? She supposed the Misiker mansion was as secure as any place in the city. If Wolk made his move, he likely wouldn't have the strength to seize every important building - not at once.
She crossed the forecourt to the front door, rapping softly. She stood silently to see if it was enough to rouse only the footman on night duty - she sure as hell didn't want to wake the whole house. No sound from inside - she rapped again, a bit harder.
The peephole in the door opened. A footman's face, lit weakly by a shaded lantern, was framed in the opening. "Yes? What be your business?"
"Galen Brough returning from the Gravhalle. Get Wannace up, will you lad?"
"Aye, Meister. Come inside to wait."
It was about time she found another ally in the household to help her with these deceptions. Wannace could move her around the mansion best. Then, she had one more thing to do before turning in - Iskander Control had to be informed what was up.
A loud crash from downstairs woke Gisel, just a few hours after she'd got back from the midnight conference with Magnus Garriker. She sat up in bed and grabbed for her pistol. The door from the dressing-room burst open and Emma came in. "Oh, Mistress!"
On the other side of the bed, Leijla raised her head to peer blearily out of the covers. "What is happening?"
"I mean to go down and find out." Gisel hopped out of bed and pulled on her shoulder holster. "Let me have your skirt and jacket, Emma - chances are an extra servant will be less noticeable."
"Be careful, Gisel," Leijla said. "This could be the danger you warned me against yesterday."
Gisel turned her face away before her expression frightened the girl. That was exactly what she feared - sending riders through the night to the army hadn't been enough. Likely Wolk and Zagdorf had moved faster than the requested troops from Lerris Garriker's army. When she left Leijla's room Gisel went to the head of the stairs to listen. She heard rough male voices downstairs and others raised in protest. She descended the stairs silently.
The splintered front door of the mansion lay in the foyer beside the discarded battering ram and the bleeding body of one of the Hinterland guards. In the shaft of faint light in the pre-dawn, four armed mercenaries stood guard at the opening with sword and buckler. From the direction of Gerd Misiker's sickroom in the library came shouted orders and disputing voices.
A large man in full armor came out - his helmet visor was up and Gisel recognized Wolk Kachupin. "Bring him to the Gravhalle - if he dies it's no loss of mine. Find Rolf Misiker and the eldest son - we'll take them too."
Two of the Kachupin's black-armored soldiers appeared, half carrying Gerd Misiker. Behind him the Lady Tanis was grabbed away by two musketeers and thrust back into the library. Gerd met Gisel's eye as her hand moved toward her pistol. He shook his head as he shouted out. "Who shall take care of the mansion if you take me away?"
Gisel nodded, his words were meant for her.
Wolk spat on the floor. "Curse the mansion - its care is no concern to me!"
She stood back against the wall with Wannace, the elderly seneschal, who shook with barely suppressed fury. If she'd been awake earlier, she might have mounted an effective defense. As it was, her best course was to let the attackers think they'd won while she planned a counter attack.
A squad of mercenaries came from the family wing carrying an assortment of swords and flintlock pistols. "We have the weapons, Meister Wolk. Do thee want us to search the women's rooms too?"
"No time now - we have more arrests to make. We'll come back later."
A commotion at the back stairs preceded an officer leading the captives of the earlier raid. "Look what I found in the cellars - four of our fellows locked up!"
Zagdorf's one-eyed sergeant appeared, pushing a white faced Rolf Misiker ahead of him down the corridor with the pistol he'd taken from Yohan on the road. Gisel turned her face away so he'd not recognize her. "There's no sign of Felger or his bodyguard. I want to search for them now."
Wolk spat. "Curse them! That's Zagdorf's worry - he may seek them once the city is secured."
They assembled with their weapons and captives in the small forecourt before the gate. Wolk Kachupin turned to address the Misikers. "Leave this door down - I shall send guards later. Attempt no acts against me and I'll not have you shot with the other traitors. Do not hinder my men from entering when they return or I'll turn the cannons on you!"
Cousin Merik, who'd been chaperone at the docks, came forward to stand with Gisel and Wannace. They watched helplessly as Wolk's men marched their captives away. From the distance, across the city, came the sounds of musketry. "Murdering rabble!" the old man said. "What means this outrage?"
"It's a coup," Gisel said. "No doubt they're attacking all the Kachupin's enemies at once. Let's check over the mansion and take stock of our losses - we can secure the valuables against those thieving mercenaries and decide what opponents of theirs should be hidden against their return."
The cousin peered at Gisel. "I see you are the fierce young lassie in that fracas with the apprentices. By all means, come with Wannace and me about the tasks - seem-so you have a good head for these things."
Within a few minutes she'd seen Wannace dispatched with the Ladies Tanis and Jenn to lock the valuables in the secret vault. Cousin Merik went to find what weapons were left in the mansion and issue them to the more capable relatives. "Don't attempt to fight the mercenaries," Gisel said, "but you could give a good account of yourselves if looters arrive."
Young Ylrich came to her side and she was surprised to find his manner so friendly. "I shall go to the Gravhalle to be near my father."
"A worthy duty, but make sure you're not locked up as well. Wait for me a moment - I'll find you a lad to fetch errands if you should need communication with us here."
She peered up and down the street. Wolk had left no guards to watch them - it meant his strength was barely enough to attempt this gamble. They stepped across four bodies of soldiers in the street on their way to the chair porter's shelter. Gisel called for Rip.
"Lor' Missus! I never thought to see yer again."
She grinned. "I bounce. Go with this gentleman and run errands for him. Seems I owe you for two days - here's a Thaler to keep you in service for the next two as well."
Mercel Kachupin led his detachment of family retainers past Count f'Doornam, who stood in the square giving orders to the assault troops. He ran up the steps of the Gravhalle and burst into the Margrave's office. The two orderlies attending the Margrave whirled, drawing their swords. Two of Mercel's men pushed past him to cut them down.
Magnus Garriker turned from the window, his face grey in the lamplight. "What means this outrage? Have you Kachupins gone mad?"
"You are under arrest, Sir. Please don't force me to harm you as well."
Shouts and screams from elsewhere in the building, the clash of steel on steel and the loud reports of muskets proclaimed the assault's progress. Feet thundered up the staircases and anxious voices called out pleas for surrender.
Garriker stared down at his fallen assistants. He grasped the hilt of his own sword, but when Mercel put out his hand, surrendered it. "I had hoped to forestall this - what has led Svart to this murderous course?"
Mercel gestured for his men to go out into the bedlam of the building to take the rest of the offices. He hefted Magnus Garriker's sword as he led him to the door. "My father has not ordered this, Sir. My cousin Wolk has seized control - with the Emperor's and Whonmark's support."
"And you have gone meekly with his orders?"
"I think the word meekly does not apply, Sir. The war must be continued - too much is at stake for us. When the Empire's full force stands beside us we shall go on to conquer our enemies."
"And we shall bow our heads to become the Emperor's vassals. Your father surely knows this."
Mercel marched his prisoner past captured men and burly soldiers to the end of the corridor and opened the door to the dungeons. Pushing him through to the top of the steps, he shook his head. "Say no more, Sir. Your attempt to drive a wedge into the family's unity will only earn you a quick hanging. Guard your tongue and you may yet earn your freedom in the city we shall rule."
When Mercel returned to the main floor he found the chaos somewhat lessened. Count f'Doornam and a stranger - a Commandante Zagdorf, representative of the Emperor - were in the Margrave's office. The man was full of his own importance. "Go to the Hinterland barracks, lad. Find out what the fighting is that I hear there."
"I am not lad. I am Svart Kachupin's son, and a captain of the family retainers."
Zagdorf stared as if a gate-post had answered him. "Then send a soldier."
Mercel wanted to refuse, to face down this arrogant Wasbian, but the bull-necked old soldier was more than his match. Was this what Lubitz would come to? Errand boys for the Empire - perhaps the Margrave was right. Where was cousin Wolk? He hoped the seizure of the Misiker's mansion had gone well - if any harm had come to Leijla!...He could not pursue the thought further. It made his spine turn to ice. He must go there himself - ensure that she was safe.
"Are you going to send that soldier - captain ?"
"Yes, Commandante. I will do that for you."
He glanced once more around the office - noting that f'Doornam was rifling through the drawers of the Margrave's bureau - before he swung on his heel to leave. He ordered one of his own men to accompany him to the main door of the Gravhalle. "Go to the Hinterland Barracks - find out who commands our forces there and ask him for a report. The Emperor's man, Zagdorf demands to know."
"Yes, Captain. What about the Misiker place? You did say to go there."
Mercel clenched his fists. "Later." Curse Wolk for not letting him lead the Misiker assault. He would have to wait until those troops returned to learn what had transpired. "Do as I tell you. We will have a new posting as soon as cousin Wolk gets here."
The man set out quickly across the square, threading between the litter of dead and wounded. Mercel shielded his eyes against the rising sun to watch him go and then turned to the city. Only black-armored retainers and mercenaries moved in the streets beyond the square - he guessed the citizens had barred themselves into cellars and strongrooms. From several locations rose columns of black smoke, and from the distance he heard screams, crashes, and splintering wood. A city taken by force of arms, Mercel began to fear for his countrymen as much as if a foreign army had entered by storm.
The arrival of the troopers from the Misikers roused him from his thoughts. Wolk stomped up the steps, leading two men supporting Gerd Misiker. "Where is f'Doornam?"
"In the Margrave's office, cousin."
"Any trouble here?"
"No. The Margrave, the Master of the Hundred, and others are in the dungeons."
Wolk glanced at him as he passed. "Good - we've caught all the mice together. You've done well - better than I expected. Take your men to join your father - I hear fighting from the Citadel and it must be well secured."
"What of the Misiker place? I would go there to see it safe."
"Curse you - take your men to the Citadel. I'll settle the Misikers when I have finished here."
As soon as she had the opportunity, Gisel grabbed her radio and hurried to the balcony of the Brother's Room . When Stellar's radioman answered she reported what was happening ashore and asked to speak with Admiral Norris.
Both Norris and President Scopes answered. Scopes sounded downcast, "Damn bad luck, Lieutenant. You'd better cancel your operation - we'll have the SEALs take you off tonight."
"Don't give up too soon, Sir. How long would it take to bring an assault force from Leki?"
"Twenty four hours. What are you planning?"
"The city is in chaos. There is fighting around the Hinterland Barracks. Depending on the speed of Garriker's army, I think we could still turn the tide, if we act quickly."
Scopes' voice firmed. "The truce with Lubitz is worth a gamble. Stay out of sight. Watch the progress of the coup and report again. I'll have the SEALs ready for action."
"Hannan knows the place - have her do a beach assault assessment tonight."
"I'll send her in," Norris said. "Either to scout a landing or to take you off. Whichever we need to do."
Next, Gisel called Yohan at the Knight's Tower. Yohan almost shouted into the radio when he heard her voice. "What's happening over there, Gisel? We hear fighting - there's smoke going up all over - a company of mercenaries came over the bridge but the Grand Master closed the gates against them."
"Good. One place, at least, is secure."
"You had better come here too. It's too dangerous for you. Zagdorf will - "
"Sorry. Things to do."
"The Baron wants BanGetz and I to disguise ourselves as Knights of Dazel - scout the city. I'll come to the Misikers and escort you here."
"Don't be so pushy, I'll start calling you meister again." She explained what had happened at the Misikers and what she knew about resistance in the city. She advised him to monitor the radio channel the SEALs used. "If you're coming into the city, find out about the prisoners Wolk has taken. I think he has all the leading citizens under guard."
"What about Lerris Garriker and the army?"
"They should be on the road - the Margrave sent another message last night. Tell the Grand Master to watch for them."
In the late afternoon the rebel soldiers returned to the Misiker mansion. Wolk Kachupin led a party of mercenaries upstairs to search the women's rooms. Another troop with an officer started to search the cellars. Gisel had hidden her equipment, the assault rifle and rapier in the secret vault - even in the middle of a coup the power of money would keep some things safe.
But the men took no care of the women's modesty or feelings - every chest and cupboard was hurled open and its contents strewn upon the floor. Leijla made to protest as Wolk pawed through her scattered undergarments but Gisel gently held her back. From down the hall came a scream from one of the young Misiker cousins. Wolk put his head out the door. "You want her? Take her back to the Citadel with you. Take one for your fellows too!"
The Lady Tanis burst into the room and Leijla joined in her protest.
"Shut your prattle wenches!" Wolk shouted. "This city is a man's fortress now - you'll all do what the men want."
"How dare you!" Leijla cried, launching herself to claw his eyes.
He caught both hands in one huge paw and thrust his other into her bodice, tearing it open. "You're the wench betrothed to that cursed Felger - wherever he's hiding! I shall take you with me - that'll get the skulking bastard out of his hole."
"Leave her be!" Gisel said, rushing forward to head off a futile attack from the Lady Tanis.
Wolk hurled Leijla into the arms of one of his soldiers and aimed a mighty cuff at Gisel. She dodged his blow. She would have responded but he was armored in steel from head to toe. She jabbed towards his eyes but he pulled away and managed a backhand crack to the side of her head with his mailed fist. She staggered back, shaking her head and struggling to keep her feet. She thought to shoot him, but Scopes had ordered her to lie low.
"Take the Misiker wench downstairs - and seize this servant too! They'll both do service this night!"
Gisel and Leijla were tethered with a length of harness leather and hauled to the Kachupin mansion by a troop of half drunk mercenaries. They laughed as Gisel gingerly explored the bloody bruise on the side of her face. Leijla was white with fear until she realized where they were going. She turned her face to whisper to Gisel. "Don't worry, Mercel will save us."
"Your lover?"
Leijla nodded and clenched her hand tighter on her torn bodice. "He's Svart's son. He will send this rabble packing."
The rest of the way Leijla stared into every corner and doorway for a sight of her beloved. Gisel had few illusions, but they'd not thought it necessary to search her for weapons. She still had her automatic and throwing knife. If she wanted to make a break for it, she'd have to pick an opportunity when there were fewer soldiers escorting her. She and Leijla could barely walk for their bindings.
If Mercel had been in a position to do anything to help the girl, Gisel figured he'd have visited the Misikers already to see her. The girl would need some persuading before she'd give up hopes of rescue from that direction - but it was an intriguing speculation. If Mercel could claim her, the young lovers' hopes might be realized.
The soldiers stopped in the street outside a gate of iron-bound timbers, the rear of the Kachupin mansion. The crenellated wall of the fortified building loomed above it. One mercenary pounded on the wood with the pommel of his sword.
"Have you been in here before?" Gisel whispered to Leijla.
She shook her head. "Emma has always carried my messages."
The gates were opened wide by a group of soldiers in black armor.
"These are Kachupin men," Leijla said. "If only Mercel - "
"Shut your mouths, bitches!" the soldier in charge of them shouted.
The captain of the black troop looked them over. "What have we here?"
"Wolk said to fetch they here. Said you'd know what to do with them."
"Hand them over, then. Close the gate."
The gate was shut in the mercenaries' faces and the black armored men closed in about the two women. "Follow along and we won't drag you!"
"I demand to see Svart Kachupin," Gisel said.
"Oh, do you? He ain't here."
"We are kidnaped! Wolk has no legal right to seize us."
"We make the laws in Lubitz now. Hold your tongues, or you'll feel the force of that law."
The captain led across a small courtyard and into a stone archway with a set of steps descending into the darkness. He paused long enough to take a lantern from a hook at the head of the steps and strike a flint to light it. When the feeble yellow beam was turned up, the captain led the way down, the troopers grasping the captives to urge them on. When Leijla realized she'd lost her chance to catch a glimpse of Mercel she began to sob.
"Save yer tears till Wolk comes for ye. I'll warrant you'll need plenty then."
Gisel had seen worse dungeons - the walls were almost dry and the straw strewn upon the floor was barely grimed. She cocked an ear for the squeaks of rats and heard none. The cell they were pushed into had a pallet and a bucket for night soil. It was dimly lit by a tiny window high up at the ceiling. She wondered how she could get word out to Yohan.
"I'll have the gaoler find yous a blanket," the captain said as his men pushed them into the cell and returned to the door.
Leijla sank down onto the pallet and put her head in her hands as the men left. Gisel went to the cell door and peered out through the small barred aperture at the men until they vanished from sight. The yellow lantern light on the curve of the steps gradually faded away with the sounds of their feet on the stone. She could find no lock to the door - it was secured on the outside with heavy iron bars. Pity, she might have used her pistol to blast a lock. She could still hardly credit she'd not been searched - did they think women were that helpless? Still, she shrugged, it wasn't hers to complain if they'd never heard of shoulder holsters.
She went to the pallet, sitting down with her arm about Leijla. "If you get a chance, repeat my demand to speak to Svart - I've heard the Kachupins are not as united as they might be."
"Do you think he'd let me see Mercel?"
"Might. The lad could be anywhere in the city. If he learns about Wolk's second raid on the Misikers he may attempt to find you - but he could be posted far away and not hear for days."
Leijla stifled a loud sob. "I'm trying to be brave, but I'm frightened."
Gisel looked at her seriously through the gloom. She thought it unwise to admit her own fear. Instead she began her meditation exercises to steel herself for action if the opportunity presented itself.
Her meditations were interrupted by a footfall in the passage outside. She rose and went to the cell door. A shapeless object started to push between the bars.
"Here's yer blanket."
She reached out to grab it. "You're the gaoler? What's your name?"
"Jailers don't 'ave names." He laughed. "Don't try to butter me - t'won't work."
"Can you take a message for us?"
"Not me!" The voice sounded from some distance down the passage.
"Wait! I can reward you."
"Save it. Ye'll need all yer charmin' when Wolk comes." This last echoed down the stone stairwell and silence descended again.
Gisel went back to sit with Leijla and pulled the blanket around both their shoulders. The air in the cells was clammy and cold.
"They haven't searched me," Gisel whispered. "I have my gun. Do you want the dagger?"
"I'm not sure I've nerve to use it."
Gisel shrugged. "If you prefer not...it'll do you more harm if you don't use it to effect."
"Can you teach me?"
"There's nothing to teach. If you have a knife when a man pulls you down and gets astride you, push it into his belly as hard as you can. Then do it again - and again. If you don't kill him, he'll turn the knife on you."
"If Mercel comes...I won't need it."
"Yeah. Better I keep it. You'll be safer if you submit."
"I'm sorry I'm not fierce like you. Perhaps we could fight our way out...but if you want to escape - I'll follow."
"It's worth a try. I'm sure Mercel would rescue you if he could, but he's only one against all Wolk's followers - "
"Yes...in my heart I know you're right."
"He might find a way to release you eventually - but Wolk intends to bed one of us tonight - most likely you. From the soldiers' jibes, he's the kind of man who wants to hear you scream."
"I'll take the dagger. I'll force myself to kill him."
Gisel gazed at her a moment. "Alright - let's make a plan."
The light from the tiny cell window faded almost to nothing by the time Gisel and Leijla heard another footfall on the steps.
"Quick, get into position!" Gisel sprang from the pallet and ran to the cell door. Would the girl's nerve fail? She saw Leijla's eyes staring through the gloom, then turned to look out
through the barred aperture.
A beam of lantern light preceded the men down the steps. She waited for a glimpse of them as they reached the bottom. Two soldiers in black armour with short swords at their belt-frogs and small iron caps on their heads. She pulled back and drew her pistol. The light came closer and then came the rasp of metal on metal as they drew the bars from their slots. She flattened herself against the wall.
The door swung open. The yellow light spilled into the cell, revealing Leijla kneeling in the middle of the floor. Her torn bodice lay open as she pressed the dagger to her breast.
"Wot the 'ell?" the first soldier shouted, rushing forward. "Stop that!"
He bent down and grabbed for the dagger with both hands. The other man, carrying the lantern, followed him into the cell. Gisel launched herself from the wall and swung her pistol butt at the back of his head. The hard metal slammed against his neck just beneath the cap and he pitched forward onto his face. The lantern dropped onto the straw.
The first soldier and Leijla struggled for the dagger. She gave an anguished cry and scrabbled away on her hands and knees. He lunged after her.
Gisel pounced on him. He whirled about with the dagger grasped in his fist. She leaped to her feet, turning the pistol in her hand. The lantern flame flickered almost out, but then spilled oil ignited the straw and sent up a flare of smoky flame. In it's light she saw the knife in the soldier's hand - drawn back to thrust at her.
She fired. The slug caught him in the middle of the chest. He pitched backwards as if kicked by a horse. The dagger fell to the floor. She reached a hand to Leijla and hauled her toward the door.
"Lets get out of here!"
The cell filled with smoke as they fled into the passageway in a shaft of flickering, scarlet light. They ran for the steps, groping along the wall in the darkness.
They took the steps blind, the smell of burning straw pursuing them. Gisel pressed one hand against the wall and held the pistol before her. Leijla stumbled up the steps behind. As they neared the top, the faint evening light outlined the arched stonework. They ran out into the courtyard beyond without stopping to look. A crowd of black-clad soldiers met them.
"The prisoners are loose!" One shouted.
Another drew his sword. "Watch for weapons - I heard a pistol!"
Two soldiers converged on Gisel. She fired twice. Both fell and the rest scattered. Leijla stumbled and fell over a sprawling body. She struggled to her feet, but another soldier hurled himself at her.
Gisel paused in her rush and turned to help. A pistol shot rang out from close at hand. The pistol ball zoomed past her ear like an angry bee. She heard a rasp of steel as another soldier drew sword.
She stretched out a hand to Leijla. "Kick the bastard! Take my hand!"
"I cannot."
Kachupin men converged on them from all directions. Gisel fired twice more but her shots found no targets. The man holding Leijla used her as his shield.
"Leave me, Gisel! Save yourself."
Gisel lifted her skirts to sprint clear of the soldiers. She heard firearms being cocked behind her. The small courtyard now seemed huge. As she ran another shot rang out and a ball hummed past. Thank God the Kachupins don't have rifled weapons.
Reaching the gate she launched herself upward. She grabbed a high ledge on the wooden planks and scrambled to the top. She kicked her feet against a cross-beam and twisted her body, swinging her legs over before letting go.
As she dropped to the cobbles below, more angry cries went up. She'd landed at the feet of a new body of soldiers. They started back, light from their lanterns throwing erratic beams on the wall and gate. She crumpled and rolled as she hit the ground, firing a shot into the middle of them. They scattered.
"It's the dark wench from Misikers! Catch her!"
"Don't give way! Grab her quick!"
Gisel scrambled to her feet. Zagdorf and Wolk Kachupin stood before her. She raised her pistol, who to shoot first?
Zagdorf moved faster. As her finger tightened on the trigger he crashed against her. The shot missed Wolk's breastplate and hit Zagdorf's outstretched arm. His full weight sent her sprawling to the ground. Two more soldiers pounced. One grabbed for her pistol and tore it from her hand. The other grasped her about the neck.
Behind them the mansion gate swung open and the black armoured guards rushed out, swords in hand. "Catch the bitch! She's set the dungeons ablaze!"
The soldier tightened his arm around her neck. "I've got her."
Zagdorf struggled upright, clutching at his bleeding arm with his right hand. "Bring a light! Let's see who we've caught."
They dragged her to her feet. Two soldiers grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her back. A third grasped her by the hair and wrenched her face toward the lantern. "So it's you!" Zagdorf said. "I might have guessed!
"You know her?" Wolk demanded. "I'll warrant it's the Iskander spy!"
Zagdorf's eyes hooded. "It's her, the wench who disguised herself as Galen Brough. Let me have her for a night and I'll make her sing a good song. We'll know all their plans by morning."
"Nay," Wolk said, reaching out to grasp her bruised jaw in his mailed fist, "I've a better idea. This city wants to know the rewards for betrayal to Iskander. I'll show them. At nine tomorrow they can see this wench on the gibbet. We'll put the irons to her and make her talk - then the garrotte! I'll have her drawn and quartered, and pieces of her carcass hung on every city gate."
The captain of the black armoured men came forward holding out her automatic pistol. "Here's proof! She's definitely Iskander!"
One soldier raised his sword. "Kill her now!"
"Damn you!" Wolk roared. "Do as I say! Take her to the Citadel dungeons. I want the whole city to witness this execution!"
The mercenaries dragged Gisel through the streets to the Citadel. She fought them every inch but could do little more than make them angry. Rough fists bruised her arms and legs, and open hands groped into her clothes to explore her body.
The streets were littered with debris, broken doors and bodies everywhere. Gangs of looters fought over their plunder. She could hear fighting from the direction of the Hinterland Regiment's barracks. Was there still opposition to Wolk's coup? The rattle of musketry came from the city's Novrehan Gate - that must be the advance guard of Lerris Garriker's army. What would he do about the coup? Nothing, if he couldn't get into the city.
One soldier pressed his hand to her thigh. "We should take her to the barracks first."
"Obey orders!" their officer shouted. "She's too dangerous to fool with! Her goes into the pit."
"Her be only a woman. She'll not defy us."
She kicked at one fellow as he stretched a hand beneath her skirt. He fell back with an angry cry. Another ducked away as she attempted to head-butt him. The first soldier repaid her kick with a punch that sent her reeling back into the arms of the others.
The man who caught her pressed his face to her neck. "I feel my organ rising for her."
The leader pushed the man's head back. "Wolk will garrotte thee instead, if ye let her escape. Quench yer lust in a safer wench. The whole city will be ours tonight."
"Aye, but for how long?" said another. "Lerris Garriker have his army at our gates."
As if on cue, the renewed sounds of musketry echoed down the streets from the Novrehan Gate. The gunfire echoed back and forth for several minutes before dying away. Gisel dragged her feet to slow her captors, but it seemed Lerris Garriker's first probe of the city defences had been repulsed.
"So much for the Garrikers and their army - we'll get drunk and rape every woman in the city!"
"So says you. I'd still rather start on this lively bitch."
Gisel still struggled as they reached the Citadel, but her efforts weakened. She cursed at them and shed bitter tears of rage. The guards at the gate resolved to search her.
The mercenaries laughed. "She've no weapons now. Those Kachupin guards stood target for them."
"I've a mind to see her body," the corporal of the guard said, pulling her shirt and jacket away with a single rip.
"Damn you all!" she said, her chest rising and falling to her laboured breath. "Iskander will make you pay in blood."
"Nort can help you now. The Citadel's never lost a prisoner yet."
There was a sound from the shadows as the officer of the guard arrived. "What have we here?"
"An Iskander spy, Captain Kachupin - taken from the Misiker mansion. She dies tomorrow."
"Wolk says to put her in the pit. She's escaped once."
"From the Misikers? Are you sure?"
"Aye, Captain Mercel. Have thee fault with that?"
Gisel raised her head. Blood filled her mouth and trickled down her chin. A rib stabbed at her each time she drew breath. One eye was beginning to close from a soldier's punch but she stared hard at the young man before her. Was this really the man Leijla had been anxious to find, or was her desperation letting her jump to conclusions?
"Does Wolk have any proof?"
"We has her pistol - and the Empire officer admits to know her."
Mercel looked at her steadily and reached out to cover her breasts with a shred of her torn shirt. "What of the Misiker family? Does all go well there?"
Gisel shook her head. "Wolk scourges them as enemies. Gerd and Rolf are imprisoned at the Dominix - Leijla and I, he took away as hostage."
He took her shoulders in his hands, his face looming into hers. His eyes widened in fear and horror. "Leijla? She's in danger?"
"They thrust us into a cell beneath the Kachupin mansion. We almost escaped - God knows what he's done with her in his anger. He lusts for her."
Mercel's hand flew to his rapier hilt. "You surely lie!"
"Best go home to see for yourself."
"Then I surely will." He gestured toward the inner walls. "Haste now - take the prisoner to the guardroom."
He hurried them up an outside staircase to the top of a wall. Their iron-shod feet drummed upon the wooden treads as they stomped upwards. At the head of the staircase a building stood on the inner battlements. Mercel flung open the door and led into a long narrow room. A row of wooden tables and benches stretched down the centre, occupied by a dozen Kachupin men in black armour. The sergeant of them jumped to his feet at his officer's arrival and threw a salute.
"Open the third trapdoor. Get the rope," Mercel ordered.
The third table in the room was dragged aside and the benches thrust back against the wall. One man bent over an iron ring set in the floorboards and pulled upwards. A black hole in the guardroom floor yawned below. They hurried Gisel to the edge. The stench of blood and excrement from a hundred years of prisoners rose up to her.
The sergeant came forward with a length of rope and tightened it beneath her arms.
"Hold tight to this rope," Mercel said. "Don't fall to the bottom."
"Why put 'er down there?" one of the mercenary guards said from the doorway. "We has poor chance to find wenches for ourselves on this castle duty."
"The Kachupins will never earn a name for rape while I still breathe," Mercel said angrily. "Leave the poor creature be! I'll flog any man of you who opens this trapdoor while I'm away."
He turned to Gisel as two soldiers lifted her up to lower her into the dungeon. "This is a foul hole, but perhaps it'll keep outrage from adding to your sufferings. If you've done Leijla and I any service . . . I'll do whatever I can . . . but my cousin Wolk is a hard man to defy."
As she was lowered into the stink and darkness, the opening of the trapdoor became a small yellow square above. The air she descended into became more foul as rope was paid out from above. Each breath almost made her gag. In the yellow light of the lanterns she saw the faces of the soldiers watching her descend. The walls closed around her, sloping upwards like a bottle to a narrow neck far above her head. She landed on her feet in a swamp of mud and excrement. The smooth and featureless walls of her prison formed a five metre circle around her.
"Let loose the rope," came a voice from above.
She stared up at them and jerked at it with a last flash of defiance.
"Release it or we shall let it fall! You'll never get out again."
She knew when she was beaten. She pulled the knot loose and tossed the rope aside. It was pulled speedily upwards and the trapdoor slammed shut.
The darkness closed in around her.
Gisel slopped about in the darkness of the dungeon for hours - refusing to weaken and sink down into the filth at her feet. Her mind raced back and forth over the events of the past day. Had she brought this failure on herself? Don't be a fool, but how can I follow Scopes' instructions now?
If she hadn't provoked Wolk...she'd still be at the Misikers. She could have helped Leijla more by keeping her freedom - why the hell did she do these crazy things? But the coup wasn't her fault - she and Yohan had done everything they could to forestall it. What could she do to further Scopes' intentions now? She pounded her fists on the greasy stones - nice escape plan, Gisel. You really blew that!
No! Damned if she'd re-hash her mistakes! She splashed around the sides of the dungeon, testing the smooth polished stonework. No chinks, no loose stones - nothing. How many other poor devils had run their hands over these walls? Escape was out of the question - but you bastards are never going to say the Wildcat had gone to her death whimpering and crying.
Who knew where she was? Did anyone know the Kachupins were going to hang her in the morning? Only Leijla knew about their attempted escape - and even she might have been spirited away to a new prison before she heard Wolk's order. Mercel Kachupin knew, but he'd never change from enemy to friend overnight.
Yohan had the radio - if he knew anything he'd keep Scopes informed. Iskander always tried to rescue agents in a peril, but there wasn't time to act before the morning. An assault on so serious a fortress as this couldn't be hazarded at a moment's notice. Wasn't right, anyway. How many innocents would an Iskander assault kill? She'd got herself into this - use your brains, girl - figure out your own plan.
Calm down. Meditate. Oh shit! Now her hands were shaking. She was going to throw up. Deep breaths...deep bloody breaths. God, the stench was choking her. Concentrate on the breath...What was Yohan doing?
Was he safe? If Wolk secured control of the city, the Baron would never continue with the Iskander contact. Not likely he'd stay, or make his presence known. The whole Felger thing would have to be started again - without her. Oh, Yohan...I'm sorry.
Lerris Garriker's army was outside the city. Could she offer Wolk some deal...some secret information to keep herself alive until help could reach her? Don't bet on it - she wasn't prepared to betray any Iskander secrets, and her thoughts were too scattered to invent any. She could at least prepare herself to be seen again. She'd best save her strength and resolve for the morning. Fumbling in the dark, she pulled the ends of her torn shirt together to fashion a rudimentary closure. The fabric was reluctant to hold in place, but she had all night to struggle with it.
After what seemed hours - a noise overhead. The trapdoor opened. This was it. A lantern beam flickered about the walls, then settled on her - throwing her shadow on the muck at her feet. Could she drown herself in it? Too disgusting a death to think about. A rope dropped beside her, she pulled the loop tight under her arms. She remembered her Samurai meditation - better to be shot escaping than submit to the garrotte.
Slowly she was drawn up, hand over hand.
When her head reached the guardroom floor, rough hands reached down to haul her out.
She blinked about in unaccustomed light. The bodies of two black-clad soldiers lay in pools of blood on the guardroom floor. What had happened? A rescue? She stared at the men holding her - Zagdorf's Imperial troopers. When her feet reached the floor she lashed out at the nearest man. Two men responded with punches of their own. She kicked and received a stronger kick in return. Another punch sent her sprawling to the floor.
"Curse you! Hold her. Quickly, we have to get out of here!" She looked up - Zagdorf's voice.
Cruel hands hauled her to her feet. One soldier punched her in the stomach, doubling her over. Then Zagdorf stood before her, wrenching her head up with his good arm. "Yes, you little bitch! You've led me one more merry dance."
He drew back his hand and dealt her a heavy blow with his open palm. Her head jerked back from the force and sparks danced in her eyes. He raised his wounded arm in a sling. "One more, I owe you for, but you're too valuable to let you die in the morning. The Emperor wants you - there's a dukedom for the information in your head."
Gisel counted the troopers with him - the one-eyed sergeant and six more in complete cuirasses. They leered at Zagdorf's mention of her worth - no doubt he'd offered them a share. They pulled her arms behind her and lashed them tightly with rope. She tried to spit at Zagdorf, but her mouth was too dry. "You sorry bastard! Put a sword in my hands and you'll get value you won't like."
"Put a gag on her," Zagdorf said with a snort of laughter. "I don't doubt she's still thinking to escape."
They pulled a rag tight into her mouth, cutting into the corner of her lip until the blood started. "Tie this leather thong to her legs," the one-eyed sergeant said. He laughed without humor as they pushed her to the guardroom door in front of them. "No merciful release for you, Wildcat. I needs revenge for they fellows blinded at the inn."
Zagdorf turned to her at the head of the stairs. "If that fool of a Felger seneschal, Hertang, had given me enough warning to watch Galen Brough, I'd have taken you both in Brehafen."
The sergeant grasped her by the arm as they started down the stairs. "How does we get her out of the city, Commandante?"
"All in good time, Hrutich. Get her out of sight first."
"Wolk Kachupin will seek her."
"Perhaps. I doubt he'll have time for her in the morning - a coup is like a whirlwind to master. And he's a wild-passioned fool - likely he'll have half forgotten her by the time Garriker's army is driven off."
Sergeant Hrutich paused halfway down and turned with a leer. "You want us to carry her to Novrehan?"
"I shall take her myself when the road is clear."
They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the forecourt before the citadel gate. Bright silver moonlight lit up the citadel's towers and from the position of the stars Gisel realized it was not long after midnight. She could have sworn she'd passed more hours than that in the dungeon.
They marched her to the gatehouse. The mercenary guards came for their bribes, then opened the gate. Gisel looked up - the inner face of the gate tower was open, with firing apertures for defenders to shoot down or pour boiling oil onto attackers. As they passed under the portcullis, a movement caught her eye. In the dim light of the gateway lanterns a monk-like figure stared down at them. She saw him for a second before he darted back into the shadows.
They went out into the street to sounds of rough, drunken laughter and breaking glass.
Clouds of smoke and a flicker of flames in the sky showed some houses were still afire. Two musket shots sounded close at hand and they ducked into the nearest alleyway. They passed broken doors, hanging uselessly open. Several times they stopped in the shadows as looting gangs passed by - no one knew friends or enemies in this night. All was in jeopardy in the passion for rape and plunder.
Stealthily they descended the steps and alleys down to the dockside. Sergeant Hrutich took the lead holding the pistol he'd taken from Yohan. Zagdorf followed behind Gisel, no doubt thinking of the rewards to be gained for getting her to the Emperor. They reached the quay and stopped at the head of a flight of steps leading to the water. Hrutich called softly into the night and a faint sound answered him. A ship's longboat with muffled oars pulled out of the darkness and bumped against the step.
As a seaman leaped ashore to hold the craft steady, Hrutich and two of his troopers hurried Gisel to the foot of the steps. Zagdorf stood at the top. "Guard her with your lives - she will be your fortunes too. Don't let the Whonmark sailors have her."
"We deserve to have our sport with her," Hrutich said.
"Not all at once. I want her spirit broken when we take her to Novrehan. But I'll have you all flogged to death if she dies from your enjoyment."
"We knows!" Hrutich answered as he stepped into the boat, "Us'll have a care for her."
"Us'll make her last - her promises to be good sport."
"I will come aboard in the morning," Zagdorf said. "Wolk and f'Doornam must have the city's security in hand, first."
They tossed her into the bottom of the boat and climbed aboard. Four of the armored soldiers took up oars to help the four sailors forming the crew. Gisel was pushed down against the bottom planks and lay with her face pressed against a hard wooden rib. Hrutich sat on a thwart beside her and pressed one foot to the middle of her back. She heard the slap of waves against the bows and the rhythmic swish of the oars as they got under way. She could see nothing, but knew where they were headed - the Whonmark pinnace anchored in the harbor.
The longboat made a steady progress to the muted squeak of the oiled rowlocks. Not a man spoke, lest some harbor sentry marked their passage and betrayed it to Wolk in the morning. Then Gisel felt a double knock against the bottom of the boat beside her ear. It was too sharp a sound to be some drifting object they'd fouled in the darkness.
Hrutich raised himself to see. Gisel drew her knees up under her.
Several hands appeared, silently reaching from the darkened water. They gripped the port gunwale. The longboat lurched. The soldiers let out cries of consternation! Hrutich leaned against the side, peering downwards, the pistol in his hand. Gisel rolled over and kicked out. She caught him with both feet.
With a scream, he pitched overboard into the harbor.
The crew jumped for the high side to right the longboat. The gloved hands from below the surface changed grip. One more heave and the longboat lay on its beam ends. The howling crew tried to climb up the thwarts or clung to the gunwales. The boat rolled further - Gisel kicked against the bottom planks.
She gasped in a breath of air before she hit the water. Splashes around her marked the fall of boat fittings. A man plunged in beside her, crying out in terror - few Gaians could swim, especially in armor. Down she went, ever deeper, her arms tied behind her. She kicked desperately to change direction. The thick woolen, servant's dress became waterlogged and hindered her movements.
Her lungs were near bursting. Encumbered by the tether, she kicked toward the surface. Her nostrils filled and she felt the sting of seawater trickling down the back of her throat. She willed herself not to choke. After all she'd been through, drowning would be a sorry end.
Suddenly, two strong hands grabbed her. She shot to the surface like a cork from a bottle. The cold night air felt like a draught of champagne. A helping hand ripped the gag away and she gulped in great draughts of air. Her rescuer rolled her onto her back and kicked strongly with a hand on her collar.
Gisel spluttered and spat out sea water. "Jeeze, Hannan! A person needs...be pretty hardy ...take one of your rescues."
"If you don't like it, you can bloody-well swim back to the boat."
"I'll pass...I was growing tired of their company."
Behind them sounded the fading cries of the mariners, floundering in the water. The other SEALs closed in around Gisel as they headed for a landing some distance from the steps. Several raised briefly above the surface to give her OK signs.
"Do you mind cutting my arms free? I'd feel safer."
Hannan spat out a mouthful of water. "Wait 'til we're in the shallows. I've got you."
"How did you know where I was?"
"Oh quit yippin', Gisel. This is my show - just relax and blow bubbles. I'm putting my face mask back on, so don't expect any more answers."
Gisel took deep luxurious breaths as she was towed backwards to safety. She was dimly aware that one of the SEALs had cut the moorings of a small gig to push along with them. When they reached a slipway, Hannan dragged her out of the water and cut her ropes away. Gisel raised her arms stiffly and swung them to ease the pain of returning circulation.
A monkish figure, the same she'd seen at the citadel, ran down the slip toward them. He swept her into a tight embrace. "Gisel! By Holy Flame, I thought I'd lost you!"
Their lips met. She pressed herself tightly against him and returned his kiss with a more passionate kiss of her own.
"Well, kids, this is a great party," Hannan said. "Hate to interrupt, but we should get into our base area before some drunken sentry stumbles onto us. Climb into the gig and we'll make it a speedboat."
Yohan took off his monk's habit to wrap around Gisel, holding onto her tightly as he helped her into the gig. They seated themselves on the center thwart as the SEALs took hold of it and propelled it back out into the harbor.
Yohan put a hand to her cheek. "Are you all right? Your face is bruised!"
"I'll survive," she said, shivering wetly under the coarse woolen robe. "Let's not talk now. Just put your arms around me - hold me." They hardly spoke as the little craft carried them the length of the harbor - too much had happened . . . it was enough just to be together.
Zeff, the shipyard bailiff opened the storehouse door promptly when Hannan rapped on it.
Gisel and Yohan silently followed the SEALs inside. She stood beside the fire as Hannan and her men pulled off their swimming gear. "Thanks for the backup," she said to Yohan. "How did you know I was in the citadel?"
"Ylrich heard Wolk tell f'Doornam at the Gravhalle. I was just about out of ideas for your rescue when Zagdorf showed."
Gisel smiled at him. "I guess we're even now. One each."
"Except I didn't do as much as you in Walrode - just told Hannan where Zagdorf's men were heading."
"It was enough." She reached out for his hand and then realized she was dripping a steady puddle of harbor water on the floor. A good pretext for not saying anything deeper before she'd had time to consider her feelings. The rescue party gathered around Zeff, who dumped a pile of fresh charcoal onto the fire and hung a blackened pot from a fire-iron hook. "I'd better get dry - looks like there'll be broth soon."
Hannan turned her head. "There's a combat outfit for you, Gisel. Behind that curtain at the back - that's the women's area."
Gisel slipped behind the curtain and peeled off the remains of the maid's dress she'd borrowed from Emma. Was it just this morning, or a lifetime ago? She grabbed a towel from the combat pack and rubbed herself vigorously - only now aware how cold she felt. She put on the fresh underwear and the insulated combat smock before walking out from the curtain drying her hair. She avoided looking at Yohan again as she joined Hannan. She inclined her head toward Zeff. "He's become one of us?"
Hannan leaned toward her and spoke quietly. "He's so happy we're keeping an eye on his beloved slipways he'd sell us his mother for a groat."
"This place has worked out well, then?"
"Home from home."
The SEALs exchanged casual shop-talk as they held out their mess tins for ladles of soup. When she received hers she walked over to Yohan, drying his monk's habit in front of the fire. "Sorry I got you wet."
He smiled at her. "You can do far worse if you like - I'm so relieved to have you safe."
Hannan came over to them, sipping soup from the edge of her bowl. "So, what's your plan, Gisel? I can be ready to move out in half an hour - I can call in transport to get us all out to the fleet."
"You're planning to leave?"
Hannan's eyes widened. "Well, what else? We can't take on a whole city - we've not enough marines in the fleet to mount an assault."
"Lerris Garriker's army is outside the gates. Our friends in the Gravhalle need rescuing. We're not going anywhere."
Hannan started to chuckle. "Jeeze, half an hour out of the dungeon and you want to go back to war. I should'a left you floating in the harbor."
"You've got enough men here to make an assault team?"
"Whoa! I have one team, but no backup or reserve force."
"Hannan! These Kachupins are running on ramrods and black powder. A special forces operation will go through them like magnesium citrate. Do you need backup?"
Hannan stared eye to eye before shaking her head. "I guess not. What do you have in mind?"
"Opening a gate."
"That Novrehan Gate is bad news."
"I know. Garriker should mount a diversion there - no more. Did you get a look at the East Gate?"
"Yes, but our RPGs are too small to bust it open."
"You have one of my father's demolition rockets. We can fire it from the street - inside the city."
"Good thinking, but that's a two-man beast. I'm a man short for that."
Gisel slapped her on the shoulder. "No problem. I'll do missile number."
Yohan glanced from one to the other, his eyes widening. "You intend to let General Garriker's army into the city? That's wonderful news. But how will he know your intention?"
Gisel looked at him. "Because you're going to tell him. If you march with the advance companies, we can link his force by radio."
He shook his head. "He'll never go for such a risky plan."
"Yes he will - you're a good salesman. Besides - his brother is one of those at risk in the Gravhalle. He'll jump at the chance to get him out."
There was a tap at the door. One of the SEALs went to it and let Rip in. "Come in and get some hot broth inside you lad," Hannan said. "Did you find Ylrich Misiker okay?"
Rip nodded and hurried to the pot on the brazier. "He'm still hidin' in the square. A real snooty feller - but he says he'm gonna stay on vigil until help gets there."
Gisel paused with her spoon in the air. "No, he's not very warlike, but he's got a good sense of duty. Is it true he knows a back way into the Gravhalle?"
Yohan nodded. "He does."
"Good, we'll likely use it. Let's put our heads together to decide what to tell Lerris - you'll have to go upriver in that gig to find him."
Yohan was late. The guides with Garriker's attack force had missed their way in the night and Yohan had not long reported them back on track. Gisel saw the first glimmers of dawn stretch across the sky, silhouetting the East Gate garrison against pale grey clouds. Except for sporadic musketry from the direction of the Hinterland barracks, the city was deathly quiet - Wolk's revolt had succeeded.
Over Yohan's radio, General Garriker had agreed to follow Gisel's plan, though it meant splitting his army to attack two city gates simultaneously. He'd called it a long shot. Gisel strained her ears for the sound of the diversionary attack on the Novrehan Gate - nothing yet. The SEAL assault team she'd joined crouched in the weakening shadows waiting for the word to attack the East. It better come soon.
The street in front of Gisel was deserted, the houses lining it dark and silent. The gate garrison were mercenaries, probably the best soldiers in the city - except for Hannan's. A troop of last night's gate guards had just been relieved and marched off to barracks. The new guards were fresh. Last night, the prospect of attacking along the narrow street had not seemed any problem. Now, as the light strengthened, she saw the stretch of overhanging houses as a bottleneck - leading them into a killing ground. "Can we start moving forward, Hannan?"
Hannan's voice shot back, "Gisel - I heard you're getting a promotion, but last night you volunteered as my missile number. If I want your advice, I'll ask for it."
Gisel grinned into the darkness that hid them, "Right chief. I'll tote the can. I'll assume command when reinforcements arrive."
Hannan called Yohan. "How much longer will the General's companies be?"
"We've crossed Shipman Creek, Hannan. The bend where the road turns up the hill is just ahead."
"Well, get the lead outa your ass! I can't hold off the assault much longer, if it gets much lighter they'll see us coming."
Gisel held her tongue. It was her fault he was receiving some of Hannan's abrasive tongue. She and Hannan had been at odds for years.
Yohan's voice came back. "The Captain says go ahead. We'll come on the double when we hear firing."
"Good. Missile numbers - get your firework ready."
Gisel and the missile number-one ran out into the middle of the street. They set the cans down on the ground and opened them. Gisel grabbed the warhead, pressed it against the propellant section and twisted until it locked. Missile number-one aimed the can and checked the connected circuits on the ready screen. "It's good!"
Hannan and her assault men donned gasmasks and left the machine gunner's position, across the street from Gisel and the missile. They ran silently through the shadows toward the gate. The man with the grenade launcher hid in a doorway while Hannan and the last two SEALs crept forward. Gisel glanced up; on the top of the wall a single guard marched back and forth. Ten minutes before, the fresh guards had ascended the steps to the second level of the gate. She'd seen nothing of them since.
Yohan's voice came over the radio. "Starting up the hill."
Hannan's voice clipped the end of his transmission. "Fire the missile!"
Gisel rolled away from the can and clapped her hands to her ears. Missile number-one squeezed his finger down on the firing control. With a brilliant flash and a gout of smoke, the missile leapt from the can. Riding a red flaming tail, it thundered down the street to the gate. In a single breathless second it hit below the arch and exploded into a huge fireball. Jagged shards of gate, broken masonry, and dismembered bodies flew in all directions.
As the last flying fragments sparked and skittered past across the ground, Hannan's assault team jumped to their feet and rushed into the tumbled debris. The machine gunner opened suppressive fire into the open rear of the gate tower. Gisel and missile number-one abandoned the remains of the launcher and grabbed their weapons. Leaping to their feet they sprinted down the safe side of the street after Hannan.
A mercenary poked his head out of a window, aiming a pistol at Gisel. She fired a burst from her assault rifle. He toppled back inside. Hannan and her two men bounded up the nearest steps. Her support man lobbed smoke canisters from his rifle-mounted launcher to cover them. A musket volley crashed out from above - Gisel ducked into a doorway. The machine gunner resumed firing on a fresh magazine.
From across the city, a rattle of musketry burst out at the Novrehan Gate. Gisel hefted her rifle in readiness for another sprint - good, the defenders' attention would be split.
Hannan threw a grenade. It burst inside the doorway at the head of the steps. She and her men vanished inside to staccato bursts of firing. Gisel sprang from cover and ran to the gate. It leaned outwards crazily on twisted hinges. Missile number-one covered her from the street, emptying his gun's magazine at defenders atop the wall. Gisel gave him covering fire as he ran to her under the splintered timbers.
She watched as he slammed home a new magazine. "Cover me again. I'm going forward."
Sounds of screams and firing echoed off the stonework as she scrambled over the fallen rubble of the arch. The light machine gun gave a longer burst and two bodies hit the ground behind her. She looked up - clear now. She gave the gunner a thumbs-up but didn't know if he saw her. Bullets ricocheted off the stones as he blazed away at soldiers above. At the outside corner of the gatehouse Gisel wedged her back into a niche in the wall. She kept up a steady suppressing fire at the firing slits of the gateway. From above came the crack of more grenade detonations.
She heard the clank of weapons from the road below her. She shouted at the figures emerging from the gloom. "Come on! The gate is clear."
The captain of Garriker's troops wore a dark colored surcoat over steel and waved his sword over his head. Behind him came Yohan, rapier in one hand and pistol in the other. The soldiers all wore white rags around their helmets for recognition. She jumped out of the niche to wave them forwards.
The firing above rose to a crescendo and then slackened. Gisel led the soldiers through the crumbling gateway and up to the top of the wall - metal-shod feet clattering on the steps behind her. At the top she swerved aside and pulled Yohan with her. She jerked her throat-mike into position. "Hannan! Our reinforcements are coming in behind you."
"Got you, Gisel."
Gisel heard Garriker's soldiers pouring through the gateway below. She hurried to an opening in the wall to look down. "You're clear," she shouted to their leader. "Head for the Hinterland barracks. Watch for our gunner halfway down the street - we don't need any friendly fire."
"I've called him in," Hannan said, over the radio.
"The next group's for the Gravhalle," Yohan shouted. "Is Hannan ready?"
"I'll be down as soon as I hand over the position. Gisel - I guess you're in command."
"Right, Hannan. I'll be on the ground - be ready to pull out as soon as you've reorganized."
Gisel met the soldiers earmarked to support the SEAL's attack on the Gravhalle. "Wait here at the gate. We'll move out directly."
There was a scuffle on the rubble of the gateway as Rip Toller slid down in a cloud of dust to join her. "Ylrich Misiker's waitin' at the back o' the Gravhalle for yer."
Hannan and her men came down the steps to join the troops in the gateway. "We're ready son, lead the way."
The fourth wave of soldiers through the gate was headed by Lerris Garriker himself. He strode over to Gisel and saluted. "I knew a swordsman of your caliber had to be someone I'd heard of," he said with a smile. "A pleasure to meet the Wildcat in her own person."
"I hope you don't regret letting me pass."
"Any failure today will be my own," he said, acknowledging Yohan's salute as he came forward to join them. "Excellent work."
"This group with you - ?"
"Going to the citadel. Captain Rolt - take the men on, as fast as you can!"
"Give it a try, lads," Gisel said, as they ran past. With luck, they could rush the Citadel's main gate before the Kachupins recovered from the surprise of the assault.
Garriker nodded. "The Citadel will be hard to take if Wolk has time to organize it."
"What about the rest of your army?"
"Waiting for me to open the Novrehan Gate. These are my most experienced men - I couldn't risk the rest in any night manoeuver."
"I guess I can leave that gate to you, General. I'll link up with the team at the Gravhalle. Yohan, you'll stay with the General so we can keep in touch?"
Yohan inclined his head.
General Garriker saluted. "My thoughts are with you. I pray you succeed in releasing all the prisoners."
By the time Gisel reached the Gravhalle, Hannan's men had already disappeared inside. The musketeers who'd provided fire support were reloading their weapons in the square. The diversionary attack at the main doorway was just gaining entrance. Ylrich met her at the end of the building and led her in the side door.
"I owe you an apology," he said over his shoulder. "Yohan told me it was you disguised as Galen Brough."
"There's no shame in despising a hired killer," she said. "What of your sister - is she still held at the Kachupin's?"
"I know not where she is. I heard of another Kachupin looking for her."
"That'll be Mercel - he's in love with her."
Ylrich stared. "Surely you jest."
"Not at all. She's a deep one, young Leijla. I saw the two of them in your father's own garden."
"She'd not bring such shame to us!"
"There's no shame attached if they can be decently married. About time you people settled your differences - the city would never have come to this if it had been united."
Ylrich nodded as they came to the end of a passage. "I'll urge my father to consider your words - when we get him out."
"Your father isn't freed?"
"They haven't been able to get down to the cells yet. Wolk and a troop of his mercenaries have barricaded themselves into the Hall of the Hundred."
"The entrance is inside?"
"No, but very close by."
"I'll see what I can do to speed things." Gisel switched on her throat mike. "What's the hold-up getting to the cells, Hannan?"
"I can't be in two places at once."
Gisel studied the situation a moment - the door at the end was ajar but she saw movement behind it. "Okay - give me two of your men. I'll go down the cellars."
The SEALs tossed grenades at the door. The blast ripped it from its hinges and filled the end of the corridor with fumes. Gisel led the two SEALs forward at the double. Ylrich gulped a mouthful of air and ran after them with his sleeve pressed across his face.
They took the steps down two at a time. There was no light, but one of the SEALs switched on a rechargeable lantern and aimed its beam before them. At the bottom a man in an executioner's hood rushed at Gisel with a great two-headed axe. She blasted half a dozen rounds at him. Leaping over the corpse she continued down the stone passage.
Ylrich paused long enough to search the body for the ring of keys at his belt. "The cells are on the right!"
Gisel came up short at the first iron door and stood aside for Ylrich to open it. "We're friends," she called into the narrow grille. "Who's in there?"
"Gisel? Surely it cannot be! Rolf Misiker and Laon in here."
They opened the next cell. Gerd Misiker rose up from a pallet in one to embrace Ylrich and kiss his brow.
"Thank God you live, Father. I prayed constantly."
When Gisel dashed forward to check his condition he clasped her hands, tears in his eyes. "You are surely an Angel of the Flame, Gisel. The family is in your debt."
They continued down the passage, opening all the doors. Loyalist prisoners staggered out, some limping or supporting injured comrades. From the last cell opened came the Margrave, and the Master at Arms of the Hundred. They followed Gisel and Ylrich back to Gerd's cell. From above came the loud racket of the light machine gun echoing in the confined space. Shouts of Lerris Garriker's men and a couple more bursts of gunfire indicated the assault on the Hall of the Hundred had begun.
"Do we thank Iskander for our release?" Magnus Garriker said.
"We helped. Your brother's men are up there. We opened the East Gate to them."
"But I surely embrace you as friends," he said. "More than can be said for f'Doornam and that swine Zagdorf."
Gisel hastened back up the steps with Rolf and Laon. The clash of steel on steel came from within the Hall. Two of the SEALs came out carrying a third. Gisel hurried forward to examine him. "What happened?"
"Some bastard has an Iskander carbine. I think Hannan was winged."
Gisel clenched her fists, that would be Zagdorf with Marc's weapon. "I want him. Don't let him get away from us!"
"Seems there's a secret way out - they've made a break for it."
The Margrave and Laon Misiker advanced into the hall. The latter picked up a sword from a body on the floor and rushed to the entrance of the secret passage. Gisel stood guard over the SEALs as they checked the wounded man's vital signs and gave him an injection from the combat pack.
She called Stellar by radio. "It's time to send a medical team ashore - we're gonna need one."
"We can send a team right away. The political situation allows it?"
"No formal agreement yet, but we're getting more smiles than spit."
"The Gorgon and the Hardy have joined - they can send a party"
Gisel had to slow down to remember. Hardy was a steam tug, converted from a wooden collier. She was surprised Gorgon was offshore, but it explained Hardy's presence. Begun as a sailing battleship for Tarnland, Gorgon had been cut down and completed as an armored battery. Its steam plant wasn't powerful enough to make a sea voyage. She realized its arrival meant Iskander's commanders were still wary of the Lubitz political situation. Gorgon was the only ship that could exchange fire with the coastal batteries guarding the harbor.
Hannan joined her, a bloodstained dressing around her left arm. "The sons-of-bitches got away. They've gone into the citadel - we have to move fast or they'll turn the guns on the city."
"I'll have to sign off," Gisel said, over the radio. "I'll get back to you when I've had a chance to clear the medical team with the Garrikers. We're still killing one another at the moment."
She switched to the channel Yohan was monitoring. "Does the General have more troops yet?"
"We've taken the Novrehan Gate. The first regiment is marching in now. He wants to know where you need them."
"We have a major action starting at the citadel - send everybody there."
"The General says they're on the way," Yohan said. "The companies of the Hinterland Regiment in the barracks have been relieved. That boosts our strength."
"Good. Tell him all the prisoners at the Gravhalle are alive and safe."
As Gerd Misiker was being carried up the steps, Laon came out of the Hall and stood a moment talking to his uncle Rolf. The sword hung limply from the hand at his side. "There's no sign of my sister," Gisel heard him say.
"Are you looking for a blonde girl?" Hannan said.
"Yes, Leijla. Did you see her?"
"Very likely. There was a young woman with Wolk's men as they ran into the secret passage. It didn't look as if she was going willingly."
A cannon on the Citadel battlements thundered. Yohan couldn't keep from flinching as the ball flew overhead. It was going to take him time to get used to the idea of being under fire. No more than two seconds passed before the sounds of the impact came to him - the crash and clatter of falling debris. The screams of injured and dying pierced the air. The cannonade had been increasing in strength all afternoon - until the fortress fell, the insurrection would continue to wash the city in blood.
He and Laon Misiker stepped out into the street where they could see the Citadel better. Its walls towered over the two of them and the battered houses around. Every hundred feet of the perimeter a half-round bastion projected, their open summits slotted with rows of cannon ports. Thankfully, few cannon remained in the citadel after the demands of war had taken so many away. Late this morning, their attempt to scale the walls had been repulsed with heavy casualties. Yohan wondered what alternative Gisel and General Garriker had decided.
Yohan glanced at his companion - he envied the calm demeanor of a man who'd already stood in front of a deadly cannonade - the broadsides of Iskander's huge battleships just five days before. "I wish Gisel could come up with a powerful Iskander weapon."
Laon set the point of his sword on the ground and clasped his hands over the pommel. "I welcome her help, but this is Lubitz' own fight now. The Kachupins must be crushed before their allies from the Eastern Marches bring an army to reinforce them."
Yohan dropped his eyes to the cobbled street. He had not known the Kuchupin family had so many supporters in the east - neither had Gisel. Apparently Wolk had not begun his coup earlier because he'd been waiting for them to send troops. He realized how close-wrought their success had been. "You still mean to take part in the assault?"
A cannon on the battlements roared again, and soldiers in the street nearby scattered as a section of house wall came tumbling down. Yohan would have dodged back into the house he'd been sheltering in, but didn't want to let Laon see his fear.
Laon regarded him as calmly as if the firing and destruction were only children's play. "I have asked General Garriker for a company. He knows I want to rescue my sister."
Yohan shook his head. Leading any force in the next assault seemed more of a death sentence than a chance to rescue Leijla. Laon did not know that she loved Mercel Kachupin - Gisel had only passed on the last of the secret to him that morning. How could he tell Laon that she may not need his sacrifice? Mercel was in the Citadel as well, but did that mean the girl was safe? Gisel's description of Wolk wasn't that reassuring.
Before Yohan could decide what to say, Laon lifted his sword and sheathed it. "I will speak to Garriker again. This is a matter of family honor - he may not refuse me."
Yohan gaped as the other strode away. He would have run after him, but halfway down the street he saw a familiar figure in a monk's habit. Some might have taken the man for a Knight of Dazel, but Yohan recognized BanGetz. He stopped, letting Laon reach the end of the street and turn the corner alone.
"Your uncle sent me to see what's happened to you," BanGetz said, making sure no one could see his face within the hood.
"And to gauge the troubles convulsing the city too?"
"Your friend is Wolk's prisoner, we heard."
"Was - we rescued her. She's helping organize the attack upon the Citadel."
"The city is allied to Iskander already? Your uncle needs to know."
"Not formally - there's a meeting going on at the Gravhalle right now."
"You were not invited?"
Yohan shrugged. "I wanted to go - as the Felgers' representative. I couldn't make my case without giving away our interest in Iskander."
BanGetz nodded agreement. "Your uncle dare not be associated with these goings-on, but he's like a cat on hot coals back at the tower. It's against his nature not to be in the forefront of affairs."
Yohan held his mouth from crinkling into a smile. The Baron would be furious at losing leverage over the Iskanders. He was now dependent on them to get out of Lubitz secretly. He dare not let the Emperor find out he was in the city when it changed sides - not with the intensity of Zarl's suspicions. The Baron would probably find it necessary to appoint his newly favorite nephew to the Iskander partnership, even if Gisel was part of the bargain. Yohan warmed inwardly - here was the career he had always wanted.
But it wouldn't do to let BanGetz see his elation. "He intends to accept the proposal I brought?"
BanGetz looked thoughtful. "He's too good a card-player for even me to guess his hand. Likely he'll let you know soon."
"He still won't reveal his presence? The city's prospects are far different than when he arrived."
"The fewer who know he's in the city the better."
"Yes, I see that."
BanGetz stared about with a critical eye. "What are the commanders doing to silence the Citadel? I don't see any cannon emplaced against it."
"It seems the only cannon that could hurt those walls are aboard the ships in harbor. General Garriker wants to wait until enough can be moved."
BanGetz shook his head. "That will take several days."
More activity attracted their attention to the far end of the street. Lerris Garriker, his aides, and two of his captains appeared - they were walking along talking with Gisel.
BanGetz frowned. "I had better go before your friend recognizes me. Remember that the Baron gives no leave for you to embroil the family further into this action."
"I understand," Yohan answered. "But remind him that Gisel knows he is here - I may have to agree to some further cooperation before I can persuade her to let him away in secret."
BanGetz closed his eyes briefly. "That is on your head." He turned and strode away, ignoring another barrage of cannon fire that plunged down into the houses round about.
Yohan took the opportunity of the lull while the gunners reloaded to run to Gisel and the officers. She smiled and pointed to the Major's insignia on her collar. "Scopes decided I should carry more rank for the tasks I have here."
"Congratulations. Does that mean an end to this dangerous service?"
She shook her head. "Too much to hope, this is not a substantive rank - Scopes will bust me back to Looie if I piss him off."
He couldn't keep from frowning at her language, but she grinned mischievously. "I'll get a bit of leave when this is over. We'll start our own campaign then."
Yohan smiled broadly - she was his! She wanted to be with him - but there was much to be done first. "What did the meeting at the Gravhalle decide?"
"We have a signed Cease Fire and some terms of an alliance to crush the Kachupins."
He grinned at her. "You are a diplomat instead of a soldier now? I can hardly picture you being diplomatic."
She aimed a weak punch at him. "Scopes made sure the real commitments waited until our envoy arrives. But I had to promise him the Baron would come to Tarnland for discussions."
"He won't like being obligated, but now you are so good at negotiations we can both work on him."
"Thanks, partner. Now I have to get back to war - the SEALs will have to help get a force into the Citadel." She turned back to General Garriker. "Our missiles will bring down a gate, but not walls that size."
Garriker planted his feet firmly apart. "The gate will take too long. We must take the barbican before we can attack it. That will give the Kachupins time to have cannon ready with grape-shot in the courtyard behind the gate."
"I see no alternative," she said. "Walk with me to where we can examine the gate tower. Hannan should be there already with the SEALs."
"Very well." He addressed his captains. "Captain Rolt, prepare your company to fight in close quarters. Order the second and third companies to prepare ladders and scaling gear - Laon Misiker will lead one of them."
"Yes, General." The captains saluted and marched away.
Yohan felt his insides churn. How many of those attackers would survive? No one had asked him to take part, but his nerves jangled as badly as if they had.
As they walked through the city streets, negotiating piles of rubble brought down by the cannonade, they met a party of leading citizens and Members of the Hundred, led by the Margrave. At the edge of the party Yohan could see Gerd Misiker staring out the window of a porter-chair and speaking earnestly with Rolf. Lerris Garriker marched up to his brother and saluted. The Margrave glared toward the destruction. "When are you going to end this, Lerris?"
"We are going forward to finalize our plans now. You gentlemen may recall that the Citadel has never been taken before."
The Swordbearer of the Hundred raised his fists. "If this destruction continues we shall lose the whole city. Two hundred houses have been destroyed by cannonballs and fire - our firemen have no more pump engines to fight fresh blazes."
Gisel stood in front of them. "Come with us to the Citadel gate. We're figuring how to minimize casualties."
Many of the gentlemen seemed shamefaced. The Margrave placed a hand on her arm. "I will come with you. Tis only fitting I should share the peril."
Lerris Garriker beckoned forward an aide de camp. "Bring some men to stand guard for these gentlemen. I charge you to keep them out of the line of fire."
They all continued walking, Gerd's porter-chair bringing up the rear. Gisel stopped at the end of the street leading to the main gate and saluted Hannan. The SEALs squatted inside a ruined house with but a single wall remaining to give them cover. Gisel poked a missile cannister with her foot and turned to General Garriker. "This is what we can do. Attack the barbican first - give us the support of a company to get inside it. Once we've gained that position, we'll blast the gate down with this missile. Then you'll need to move quickly. We can offer our suppressing fire while a Forlorn Hope tries to get inside the Citadel courtyard."
Yohan remembered that Forlorn Hope was the name for a volunteer force at the front of attackers storming a fortification. Usually, they all died. Gisel turned her head away, as if to distance herself from the sacrifices she'd asked for. "Iskander will add to the reward for any who live."
Garriker stared down a moment and kicked at some broken rubble. He looked up and nodded. "I will arrange for the volunteers."
The roar of a cannon almost drowned his words. The clatter of falling masonry was punctuated by the screams of wounded men.
"Anything is better than cowering here to be killed piecemeal," Gisel said.
Garriker grimaced as a wounded man was carried away. "If I had but one twenty-four pounder to support the assault."
"The SEALs will give the assault all the fire support we can from the Barbican. Once your men capture the cannons in the courtyard they can blast open the entrance of the keep. Then it's up to Rolt's men."
Laon Misiker joined them. "I will lead the Forlorn Hope. I feel sure we can succeed with the Iskanders' help."
Lerris Garriker regarded him steadily. "You know what it means?"
Laon nodded, but Yohan could not stay silent. "No, Laon. Your sister should not cause your death! Think of the family -"
"I am, my friend. I am."
Yohan swallowed bile. The Iskander assault faced danger enough taking the Barbican, but Laon proposed entering a gateway guarded by...Flame alone knew how many cannons! He wanted to argue more but lost the chance when Gisel changed the subject. "Has anyone seen Zagdorf?"
"He took his troopers into the citadel," Lerris Garriker said. "That makes him a combatant, not an Imperial emissary."
Gisel clenched her fists. "Post men to watch for him. Let me know where he is - he's mine."
Yohan could almost feel the quiet fury that burned within her. She had told Zagdorf at that strange breakfast that she'd take him as a prisoner to Tarnland - would she be controlled enough not to kill him right away? She had been more affected by Marc's death than she let on.
Hannan came forward. "I've sent riflemen into the attics of two houses still sound enough to take them. Snipers will help us get into the Barbican, but we need more suppression."
Garriker waved an aide over. "Bring forward a company of foot." He turned to Hannan. "If there is room in your houses I can give you a hundred musketeers."
"A deal, General. I'll squeeze them in upstairs myself if need be - but I'm still short a man for the assault."
Gisel wrapped a comradely arm around her shoulders. "I'll come with you."
Hannan grinned briefly. "Okay - you and I on the machine gun."
Yohan stepped forward. "Gisel - I'm going with you." It seemed to him that his words came from somewhere outside of him. Had he actually volunteered? Surely the dry rasp in his throat had not been voice enough for the deed.
She grasped his hand. "I'd feel better with you back here - we'll need the radios to coordinate between the attackers and their reinforcements. But I appreciate your offer."
Scaling parties with ladders arrived to assault the barbican. Hannan's missile team and volunteer porters took position in a ruined house nearby, ready to follow them up the ramparts. The Margrave and Rolf Misiker walked over to join them.
Lerris Garriker waved an arm to indicate the soldiers gathering under cover and making their way forward, closer to the gate. "We are almost ready to start," he said. "I just have to ensure Captain Rolt is ready for the second assault."
They watched as he walked away and rounded the corner of the street. A short distance away, Laon Misiker stood beside his father's porter-chair - Yohan felt guilty he had not tried again to tell the young man why he shouldn't volunteer. It was too late now.
A rattle of musketry came from the citadel. Hannan swung around. "What the hell is going on? We're not ready yet."
Gisel scanned the gate tower. "That's not our men - that's inside."
Lerris Garriker ran back to join them. "There is fighting within the Citadel!"
"Change of plan!" Gisel shouted to the SEALs waiting with the missiles inside the house. She turned to the others. "That's another mutiny - they're not that united. Let's run in and blow the gate right now - chances are there'll be no-one ready behind it."
Hannan whirled away and shouted over her shoulder. "I'm on it!"
Lerris Garriker grabbed Yohan's arm. "Fetch Captain Rolt and his company."
The next few minutes were hectic. Yohan sprinted between the ruined houses to find the company. Luckily Rolt was quick on the uptake and ordered his men to muster immediately. Sounds of firing continued from behind the citadel walls as they grabbed up their weapons and fastened their battle harness. By the time he followed the company back, Hannan's missile team were ready to run forward for a clear shot at the gate.
Gisel met them in the street. "Take cover - we're about to fire."
"No! Look at that!"
Yohan turned around to see Laon Misiker pointing toward the tower. The Kachupin flag was coming down the staff.
"Hold the missile!" Gisel shouted.
The Margrave came out of the house where he'd been sheltering and joined his brother. "What does it mean?" Yohan asked him.
"Give it time. The next action will tell us."
Yohan kept his eyes on the tower. "Look - another banner is being raised."
They stood in the street and watched as a Lubitz banner was raised to the top of the staff and unfurled. White flags draped the tops of the battlements.
"I think we'd best prepare ourselves to parlay," Lerris Garriker said. "They'll be at the gate at any moment."
Rip came running to Yohan and Gisel; the watcher he'd been assisting at the rear of the Citadel puffing along behind. "Zagdorf! Zagdorf is..." Rip stopped, panting heavily.
"What about Zagdorf?"
"Him an' his men...ladders...climbin' down the outer wall."
"Damn. I'm going after him - right away."
Lerris Garriker placed a hand on her arm. "I need you here."
"They's got horses waitin'."
Yohan thought she would refuse. She stared at Garriker as if her eyes could burn him away, then shrugged. "I need a squadron of your cavalry."
"Right after this is settled."
A few minutes passed before the gate opened and two figures appeared in the opening. Lerris Garriker and Gisel walked towards them. Yohan sprinted to join them.
"The rest of you, stay back," the General called as they crossed the open space to the gatehouse.
Yohan recognized Svart Kachupin and a younger man standing waiting for them. Both were wearing the black armor of the family's own troops and were fully armed. Lerris Garriker stopped before them and saluted. Svart Kachupin answered the salute.
"Wolk is dead." Svart said.
Yohan noticed the young man staring at Gisel as if he could not believe what he was seeing. She saluted him. "Thank you for your respect last night, Mercel. Zagdorf took me from the dungeon "
"It was he who killed my men?"
Both Svart and Lerris Garriker looked at her as she nodded. "He wasn't able to keep me, though."
"Mercel saw you last night?" Lerris Garriker said.
"He placed me in the dungeon. He behaved honorably - ordered his men not to molest me."
Lerris Garriker stared at Svart. "I have always respected the Kachupin honor and found it noble - in the past."
"We were deceived," Svart Kachupin said. "Not just by f'Doornam and that Zagdorf, but by my cousin Wolk as well. Now we wish to treat with our fellow citizens."
"That is not so easy. Many have died."
"We will surrender the Citadel if we can keep our arms and banner," Svart said.
"As a soldier, I would consider such a request," Garriker said, "but the whole government of the city is behind me - they want an accounting."
"Then take me in chains," Mercel said. "I have commanded here since yesterday. Leave my father alone."
A voice cried out from further inside the gatehouse. "No - you cannot! Mercel has ended this madness!"
A figure in white rushed forward and threw herself into Mercel Kachupin's arms. Yohan was astounded to see Leijla so ragged and dirty.
"Mercel has killed Wolk," Leijla said. "You cannot put him in chains. He has done the city a great service."
"This is true?" Gisel asked.
"Yes. I shot him."
"No doubt his service was for you, my dear," Lerris Garriker said to Leijla. "Yohan - please go and ask my brother to join us. The Misikers too - they are anxious to reclaim this girl."
Yohan hurried back to the others with his thoughts whirling - what would this mean to the Misikers? Would they count her dishonored? Gerd insisted his porters carry his chair forward with the rest - he'd recognized Leijla in the gateway. When they assembled, Yohan joined all the leading members of the families beneath the Citadel gate.
Laon stepped to Leijla's side. "Let me escort you back to our father's chair."
"No. I choose to stay."
"What means this?" Laon demanded, reaching for his sword.
Svart and Mercel placed their hands at readiness. Svart glanced back through the gateway at the rest of his men.
Ylrich stepped forward to place his own hand over his brother's right hand on his sword hilts. "Leave her be, Laon. She has chosen him."
"What do you mean?" Gerd demanded. "She is betrothed! Return her to the mansion at once!"
"No, Meister," Yohan said, stepping forward. "Do not let fresh dispute spoil the city's only chance of ending the bloodshed. Leijla and I have spoken on this - we are both in love, but love others. We want to end the betrothal - free her to marry the man she loves. This is the man. I suspect he has saved her from the dishonor you were all so fearful of."
"This is outrageous. My daughter will marry no Kachupin!"
"Father!"
Leijla released Mercel's arm and took two steps forward. Then she threw herself to the ground and wrapped her arms around her brother's knees. "If you wish to strike someone with your sword, strike me! Kill me now, if you will not let me marry the man I love."
The two Garrikers and Kachupins looked steadily toward Gerd, who sat forward through the porter-chair window, black-faced, his jaw working. Gisel stepped to the chair and took his angry fists in her hands. "Sir, you have a chance to end this feud and the city's misery. Else you may plunge both houses into such suffering and bloodshed as will make what has passed seem nothing. Calm your rage and seize the course of wisdom. A marriage between these two young people will seal an end to the past. Say yes to them and you will grace the city with the peace every citizen craves. Heal the wounds as I have healed yours - let the day end in peace and love."
Gerd sat silent for many minutes. When he spoke it was to Svart Kachupin. "Does your son's choice please you?"
"We are the suppliants here. I should regard it an honor to accept a hand offered in peace."
"Then let it be. I will see her wed."
"Don't waste this advantage," Gisel urged. "The marriage must take place as soon as possible."
The Margrave stepped forward. "I'd be pleased to see your feud ended but I cannot lightly dismiss the wrongs the Kachupins have done to the city."
Yohan caught Gisel's eye. Her strategy had merit. "If there is a civil crime committed it should be tried in a civil court," he said, "not by force of arms or executions."
"Iskander can bring neutral judges to the city," Gisel said, "in the way we have done for Leki. Let the Kachupins return under arms to their mansion - if they will give oath they'll answer judgement later."
Magnus Garriker's expression was like iron. "And will you?"
"It seems an honorable course," Svart Kachupin said. "We will."
"Then gather your men. I give you an hour to march out under your banners," General Garriker said.
Gisel leaned forward urgently. "And the squadron you promised?"
"You shall have it - when this conflict is done and the city secure."
Gisel and Yohan sat side by side on borrowed chargers, waiting to join Mercel and Leijla's wedding procession. Two full days had passed since the ending of the civil conflict in front of the Citadel. The smell of smoke and spent gunpowder still tainted the sun-warmed breeze, but better promise was in the air - another month and it would be the summer solstice. The weary citizens had taken a break from cleaning up the destruction in the city to come out in celebration of the wedding, watching in awe the sight of old enemies united at last by love.
Gisel snorted. "How did Scopes know I was going on to Novrehan?"
Yohan looked at her with one corner of his lips crinkled upwards, but said nothing.
Leading the squadron of borrowed cavalry, Gisel had pursued Zagdorf as far as the Novrehan border. Her captain halted his men and refused to go further. She'd argued with him, but he'd been given instructions not to risk a clash with their neighbor. She understood; the Margrave didn't want to bring any more enemies into the field against Lubitz. She was about to leave the cavalry and pursue Zagdorf alone, when President Scopes called her by radio and ordered her back to the city.
She had fumed about the interference all the way back to the city. "It had to be you who called Scopes."
Yohan looked down at his mount and patted the restless animal's neck. "Did someone call your President?"
Gisel let her horse bump shoulders with Yohan's. "Don't play so goddamned innocent. It was you."
"Chasing Zagdorf to Novrehan alone! You'd have got yourself killed - or worse."
"I'm not a fool - and I'm not incompetent."
"You can be damned reckless sometimes."
"I didn't ask you to be my keeper."
He raised his head to look her in the eye. "No, but am I to be anything to you? I'm not going to risk losing you...not when I can do something - "
"I don't appreciate the interference."
"I'm sorry, I won't call Scopes on you again. But you must promise to heed me instead."
She tried her best to lay one of her dark-eyed stares on him.
He shook his head. "It won't work, Gisel. We have rights over one another - don't we?"
She sat unmoving a moment and then nodded. A sound came from the riders forming the procession in the square, and she turned her head. "They're moving off. Let's get ready to follow."
The first member of the wedding party to ride out into the street was the groom. The people cheered the man who had killed the ringleader of the coup, ending the fighting. Not overly enthusiastic, but definitely appreciative. That was more than could be said for the next man. Svart Kachupin sat erect and alone in a barouche drawn by dapple horses. Some clapped, but it was as if the people applauded his pride and dignity as head of the shamed Kachupins more than the man. Perhaps they valued the symbolism of the white-marked horses in contrast to the usual Kachupin black. The rest of the Kachupins had departed for the ceremony at the Knights of Dazel's chapel by the back routes.
Leijla sat with her father in a white painted landau with its top down. The crowd cheered unrestrainedly as they smiled and waved. Behind rode Rolf and Laon on chestnut hunters, tossing handfuls of coins to the street urchins and citizens' children. Ylrich came next, with Rip riding pillion and calling out to his friends - he'd declined Gisel's offer of Iskander training in favor of remaining in the city. She shrugged when she saw him - unusually clean and well-dressed - it was his right to choose.
She leaned forward to urge her mount to follow. She and Yohan took their places side by side in the procession. They were not as easily recognized by the people but some citizens recognized the jeweled Orders of Lubitz they wore, which the Margrave had presented that morning. Voices called out praise for 'Iskander' and 'Felgers', which they acknowledged as they rode, but Gisel was content that much of the cheering seemed directed at the Misiker family carriages following behind.
"Don't want you getting too swollen headed," she said to Yohan with a smile. "It'll be a few years before these people really have anything to thank us for."
The procession wound down through the city streets and out the Novrehan Gate, showing barely a scar from the diversionary attacks. They crossed the smaller river by the bridge and entered the courtyard of the Knight's Tower. The chapel within was large enough for several hundred, its walls draped with war banners, devotional paintings and icons. During the ceremony, conducted by the Grand Master, Gisel and Yohan stood behind the bridal couple. The Margrave, more relaxed and jovial than she'd ever seen him, took the position of Marriage Mentor, a feature of weddings here.
Gisel couldn't help but notice Yohan's eyes turning to her often as the vows were said. Did she want to acknowledge the seriousness of their attachment? Another male admirer ... perhaps for her to fret over whenever he went into danger? He would always worry about her. A soldier should have no attachments...and yet...
Yohan was the best she'd met in Gaia - perhaps not as exciting as Lord Ricart, but a damn-sight more dependable. She cut off any more thoughts about his lordship - she'd known that affair was a mistake, almost from the beginning. He'd viewed her as a trophy - Iskander's fighting Wildcat - did Yohan think of other men's envy when he looked at her? She didn't think so, but his admiring manner was almost too much. He was so smitten, it couldn't possibly last - not at that pitch.
They would find out when they met at Bergrund. Yohan was to accompany the Baron on the Stellar, to take a hurried course in steam and metallurgy. He would need several months of training in her father's steelworks before he could handle the technical side of the Felger management the Baron intended for him. She hoped to join him there when the Peace Treaty was finalized in Lubitz and her security position for the meetings ended. Her father would be amused at her conducting an affair under his own roof - perhaps she would ask him to let them spend some time in the secluded lodge he'd had built in the forest. It was where he'd seduced the Thegn of Bergrund's daughter...
Damn...we're a hell of a family! Yohan's old man would never approve such a marriage. The idea was preposterous. How could they amount to anything with Yohan in Lubitz and her...goddamn it...almost anywhere? Love or respectability? Perhaps she'd best spend time working on her father to marry the Lady Katya first. Why plunge so deeply into a relationship when the next mission she went on could see her luck run out...?
The ceremony reached its climax - rings were exchanged - the young couple bowed their heads for the Grand Master's blessing. A lone soprano in the choir raised her voice like a lark singing in the arch of the chapel above them.
Gisel caught Yohan's glance when next he turned toward her. He deserved an answer. She smiled slightly...and after a hesitation...made him a promise with her eyes.
A week later Gisel stood on the dockside with the honor guard of marines from Gorgon. Stellar had dropped anchor in the harbor, amid the warships undergoing repairs to spars and rigging. Not far away, f'Doornam's pinnace lay moored beneath the massive guns poking from Gorgon's iron sides. Being an ambassador, they'd not been able to imprison him, merely made him kick his heels aboard until it suited Admiral Norris to let the ship leave. Perhaps having his nose rubbed in his failure was as much punishment as they could inflict.
The envoys' boat left Stellar's side. The ship had taken Yohan and the Baron to Tarnland and now was back with the diplomats. Gisel had not been aware, before a long satcom conversation with Scopes the night before, that the Autarch Wazda was sending a guard company with his envoy. That could complicate proceedings a lot, but there was no way around it.
Scopes had briefed her about Iskander's envoy, Professor Hutton. "He's a geologist...lots of experience setting up extra-terrestrial expeditions and running them. He's a good organizer, but not so good in the diplomatic department - he needs some cunning. You're going to have to help him there."
She should have expected something like that - Security Chief was only a single job. Scopes had never given her anything easy, yet. Then he'd told her some of his plans. "I want to move Lord Ricart's cavalry to Lubitz. The Imperial army has started to advance...their commander is a Duke Solerar, who I'm told is no dummy. He'll take up positions around Leki - start a siege. I want Ricart to operate from Lubitz - create havoc with Solerar's communications."
Gisel frowned, she didn't want to see Ricart again.
"Getting Lubitz on side will give Iskander a valuable breathing space to build up our strength. With the fleet able to keep Leki supplied, our best troops and weaponry keeping the enemy at bay, and Ricart harassing their rear - we can keep Solerar tied up for a year. Maybe longer."
"Lubitz isn't on side until this treaty is signed," she'd reminded him.
"Yes, you're right there."
"What's the deal with Wazda's envoy?"
"The Tarnlanders are not in charge - Iskander has the lead in this. But Count Achem, the Autarch's representative, will be trying to earn his points. I need you to keep an eye on him - make sure he doesn't put anything over on Hutton."
The longboat reached the quayside and Gisel nodded to Lt. Lee Binh, who commanded the Iskander detachment. He brought them to attention. Another shouted order brought the courtesy honor guard of Lubitz's army to attention also, some yards back across the quay. Gisel saluted Captain Rolt, General Garriker's guard commander.
Professor Hutton reached the top of the steps to the quay. He had pink skin and a trimmed white beard; if his face had been more round he would have looked like a taller, less portly Santa Claus. Gisel didn't remember seeing him aboard Iskander, obviously he'd never been one of those who had taken her exercise sessions. She stepped forward to greet him as he glanced around the official group meeting him.
He shook her hand and smiled. "Next one up is Achem, Gisel. He's a bit of a conceited ass. Oh - you don't mind me calling you Gisel?"
"Fine. President Scopes told me you didn't like formalities." She grinned. "I hope the pomp around here won't make you uncomfortable. They're not as stuffy as they appear."
She led him over to meet Lerris Garriker and the Margrave before returning to salute the next man up.
"Count Achem, I believe. Honored to be of service, my lord." Achem was much shorter than her, which the narrowing of his close-set eyes told her didn't please him one bit. His face was clean shaven except for one patch of straggly hairs near his left ear that his barber appeared to have missed. He was about forty and wore a red and purple waistcoat under an unfastened grey frock coat, with a periwig so large and curled it seemed as if a cat sat on his head. She saw the hilt of a rapier beneath his coat and frowned - none of the other dignitaries had come here in arms.
The Count returned her military salute and indicated another man behind him with a wave of his hand. "You are Major Matah, I believe. My guard commander, Commandante Berek - I trust you will afford him every assistance here."
"I am in charge of security for the entire party, my lord Count. I will be sure to make every use of the contingent from Tarnland."
She handed Achem over to Professor Hutton and Lerris Garriker before he could reply and turned her eye to Berek. That's all she needed - military rank games. She'd fix him, Scopes had said he was prepared to make her an acting colonel if she needed it. The Tarnland officer regarded her cooly with mocking blue eyes. He was about mid twenties, not tall because his eyes looked directly into hers, but as broad as a dray horse. He wore a light cuirass and a plumed metal helmet.
"I am prepared to cooperate fully with you, Major Matah, but I will not come under a woman's command."
She stared right back. "I could refer your sentiments to your ruler, but I will take my proper command my own way. I suggest you think about your words, Commandante. I don't back down easily."
She turned her back on him and marched over to Lee Binh. This promised to be an interesting few weeks. The path to tread between an old ally and a new - who had a hundred years of grievances between them - was likely to be touchy enough. She had to think of something clever - not a good idea to start the business off with a challenge to a duel.
Zagdorf followed the orderly through the echoing stone corridors of the Palace while the dawn sunshine turned the soft limestone blocks to a honey yellow. The warm glow conflicted with his mood. Half the summer he had kicked his heels in the Emperor's anteroom at the Trigon's Forbidden Island while other officials and officers had been given entry. Now he had suddenly received the summons. He was acutely aware that a dawn interrogation was intended to intimidate.
Outside the door to the Emperor's private study the orderly stopped to knock. Zagdorf straightened his dress uniform - this might be the last day he wore it.
"Enter."
The orderly pushed open the door and stood back. Zagdorf stepped into the gloom inside.
Even though the sun had risen, the Emperor sat behind his raised desk with a single lamp burning on the wall beside him. The door closed behind Zagdorf with a loud click as he stepped up to the desk to bow down and then snap to attention with a military salute. The Emperor, unshaven at this early hour and wearing a purple robe and jewelled orders over night attire, regarded him without speaking. In the shadows beside the desk two figures moved, the Imperial Chancellor and another attendant.
"Sit, Commandante," the Chancellor said, indicating a small chair near the side of the desk.
The attendant stepped forward to place it more centrally, and as he seated himself Zagdorf saw the attendant carried a holstered pistol and also bore the rank badges of Commandante. Ready to become a gaoler of equal rank? If the Emperor regarded the debacle in Lubitz to be his responsibility, his career could be over.
The Emperor gestured behind, and the attendant moved to a curtain and pulled it back from a concealed window. The sun's light streamed in full upon Zagdorf's face. In the glare, he could barely make out the Emperor sitting opposite him.
The Emperor spoke. "You failed to secure Lubitz to the Imperial cause this spring."
Zagdorf swallowed. "Yes, Imperial Highness. I set out the circumstances in my report."
"I do not have time for reams of excuses. I want to hear your words. Why did you fail?"
Why had he? He had been outwitted at almost every turn. That cursed Wildcat! How could he put such thoughts into words? Did the Emperor mean to humiliate him? "Highness, the Iskanders had deeper plans set than I suspected - they were better prepared than...I was."
"You arrived too late to carry out the task I set you." It was almost a question, but sounded more like an indictment.
"I arrived in Lubitz as soon as I could. I believed that the only Iskander action at that time was their naval blockade. I immediately entered into discussions with our allies to determine what help the Empire should afford them."
"You wasted time trying to catch the Iskander's agents," the Chancellor said.
"No, Excellency. Such time was not wasted. Had I succeeded, the outcome would have been vastly different."
The Emperor's head leaned into the beam of sunlight so that Zagdorf could almost see his expression. "You claim this Matah girl turned the politics of the city against us?"
Did he seem more curious than angry? "I have to admit, Highness, she outwitted me. She is the trickiest enemy I have ever encountered."
He heard the Chancellor give a snort of derision.
"My Lord Chancellor...your Imperial Highness, I felt that I had enough force to neutralize her efforts until Duke Solerar could advance to the city. My plans were aimed at bolstering the Kachupins' strength until their reinforcements arrived. The coup was a hasty improvisation, and poorly planned by our ally. But there was little option - it became apparent the Garrikers were gathering strength against us too quickly for the Duke's participation."
"The Duke has also failed me. His army still sits outside the defenses of Leki. How can such a small city defy the Empire?"
Zagdorf felt his anxiety ease a little. This was not entirely a barrage of accusations and blame for his own failure. "I know nothing of this, your Highness - merely rumors. My access to official dispatches has been barred all summer."
"At my command. Chancellor, explain the situation."
The Chancellors' face scowled in the slanting sunlight. "Yes, Highness. The Iskanders dug extensive systems of trenches and outworks about the city - placing our cannons far out of range."
The attendant spoke for the first time. "Yet they have their own cannon emplaced which fire explosive bombs - capable of reaching behind the Duke's lines. No force can move - night or day - without drawing a deadly fire."
"Then he must dig his own trenches to advance upon the enemy," Zagdorf said. "I can understand why his siege is taking so long."
"He is attempting this, Commandante. But the Iskanders fire their explosive bombs onto the sappers at their work. Every yard of advance must be covered by diversionary attacks elsewhere - in the open. Casualties are immense."
The Emperor sat silent while Zagdorf and the attendant discussed the situation and tactics. Eventually Zagdorf realized there was no speedy solution open to the Empire's forces until they had weapons equal to the Iskanders'. "The only alternative is to starve the defenders out," he said. "What can be done to drive off the enemy fleet?"
"The Admiral claims he cannot move against them for a year," The Emperor snapped angrily. "He says he needs three new hundred-gun ships completed and more large merchantmen converted to warships. It is impossible to prevent the enemy supplying everything Leki needs."
"And the Duke cannot mask the city and send a force on to threaten Lubitz?"
"He has not force enough. I am sending another army, but it must go to the Tarnland front to support the Whones. They are hard put to keep the field."
Zagdorf held his feelings from showing on his face. This was exactly the situation he had warned of, almost a year ago.
The Emperor glowered. "The only success in the whole year has been your capture of the Iskander carbine and other equipment. We have our best artisans working to produce copies."
Zagdorf started to relax. His career was safe - so far. "I can only ask to be of further service to you, Highness. The Empire's success has been my whole life."
The Chancellor and the strange officer - likely his protege - scowled at him. This had been the reason for his wasted summer. Enemies and rivals, everyone eager to steal a man's reputation and advantage. Well, perhaps they had failed - what had the Emperor decided?
His ruler gestured toward the small chair. "Move Commandante Zagdorf's chair away from the sunlight. Pull the curtains wider and bring out the Tarnland maps and records." The Emperor sat silently as the other officer did as he was instructed. Then he opened the map before him. "I'm sending you back to threaten the Iskander base in Tarnland. It is the only way I have to take the battle into their heartland."
Author's Afterword
I hope you enjoyed following Gisel Matah on her mission to outwit Zagdorf and bring about new alliances for the Iskanders. But it's clear that Gisel and Zagdorf are not finished with their conflict, and the Emperor hasn't given up his bid to conquer the Iskanders. Read the next novel in the series, "The Wildcat's Victory" when it's released early 2008, to continue the adventure.
Follow Gisel and Yohan as they strive to make their relationship work when new challenges arrive. More men make her life difficult when she goes back on active duty - an old lover who becomes her commanding officer, and a cruel and psychotic Prince who frightens even Zagdorf. Oh yes, he's there as well, matching wits with her in a suspenseful finale; while she has to outmaneuvre the Baron and President Scopes to keep her plans moving forward.