course, on Kregen there are no ramrods — but I knew they were taking all this in with alert enjoyment.
In the tiny space between the outer and inner flaps of the tent she stopped and kissed me. I kissed her; by Zair! This was what mattered in life, and all the rest could go hang.
We went on through and a little party had gathered to meet Drak, as was proper. During the meal and after, we talked and many of my thoughts found expression. Drak brought up the point of what forces he would be allotted.
“You commanded the First Army down in the southwest. The Second is over in the northeast. I suggest you retain command of the First, taking up what forces you require and can be spared from the southwest. Vodun Alloran will move the Ice Floes of Sicce to make amends, so that corner of the island is now safe.”
“Very well. And the Second Army?”
“You assume command of both. You’re going to have a hell of a task breaking through and hooking left.”
He nodded and sat back in his seat. A very tough and very hard man, this son of mine, a man destined to be an emperor, as I surely was not. Well, perhaps that is wrong. Perhaps the destiny that was forced on Dray Prescot through being a sailorman and soldier, a slave, a mercenary, a kaidur, has brought him to the ranks of various nobilities, and does also include the sentence being passed on him of being a king and emperor.
“Turko sent a lot of his Ninth Army up to help Seg,” Delia pointed out.
I’d retained the name of the Eighth Army for sentimental reasons, connected with thorn-ivy, and was using it again for this campaign into North Vallia.
“Of course,” went on Delia, “knowing Seg as we do we must not be surprised if he inspires the people of Balkan and becomes their High Kov very quickly and then marches over the mountains to help us. Yes?”
Drak said: “I hope Silda...” Then he stopped himself.
Delia and I knew what was in his mind. Well, I’d suffered enough for Delia’s sake, and now Drak suffered for Silda.
Now it is not my intention to give a blow-by-blow account of the North Vallian Campaign. The broad outlines of our plan were followed through with accuracy enough to ensure that the plan worked.
Drak took elements of the First and Second Armies around the east of the mountains and I took my Eighth around the western end of the mountains after we routed the hostile advance force at the Battle of the Blue Lizdun.
Now that the end was in sight we were joined by many folk who, even in the troublous times through which we had gone, had contrived to remain neutral. Neutral, one should add, in stance, for any neutral may have to suffer armed men marching through his lands and eating his produce and doing the unwholesome things badly led armies do even if the sufferers are not openly enemies.
Maybe it is churlish of me to say that; but we could have done with the help of these people earlier on. One such, of course, was the lord of Balkan; but he had reached the end of his journey upon Kregen and had shuffled off to meet the Gray Ones beckoning on the Ice Floes of Sicce. He died without living issue. Seg’s campaign up in Balkan came, in after years, to be talked about as a marvel of diplomacy, tact, firmness and plain good commonsense. He had the Balkans solidly for him in a miraculously short space of time.
The pronunciation of Balkan is not like the terrestrial “ball” but like “bat.” I mention this because Seg’s Hyr Kovnate of Balkan was nothing like the Balkans here on Earth. Also the stress falls on the second syllable: Bal
kan
.
He sent me regular letters by merker, those spry young folk who skim through the air aboard their birds carrying important messages. We had instituted the merker system in Vallia on a small scale, importing from Djanduin a useful colony of the small fast birds used there, the fluttcleppers.
I was seriously considering asking some of my winged friends who lived down south in Havilfar if they might
In the tiny space between the outer and inner flaps of the tent she stopped and kissed me. I kissed her; by Zair! This was what mattered in life, and all the rest could go hang.
We went on through and a little party had gathered to meet Drak, as was proper. During the meal and after, we talked and many of my thoughts found expression. Drak brought up the point of what forces he would be allotted.
“You commanded the First Army down in the southwest. The Second is over in the northeast. I suggest you retain command of the First, taking up what forces you require and can be spared from the southwest. Vodun Alloran will move the Ice Floes of Sicce to make amends, so that corner of the island is now safe.”
“Very well. And the Second Army?”
“You assume command of both. You’re going to have a hell of a task breaking through and hooking left.”
He nodded and sat back in his seat. A very tough and very hard man, this son of mine, a man destined to be an emperor, as I surely was not. Well, perhaps that is wrong. Perhaps the destiny that was forced on Dray Prescot through being a sailorman and soldier, a slave, a mercenary, a kaidur, has brought him to the ranks of various nobilities, and does also include the sentence being passed on him of being a king and emperor.
“Turko sent a lot of his Ninth Army up to help Seg,” Delia pointed out.
I’d retained the name of the Eighth Army for sentimental reasons, connected with thorn-ivy, and was using it again for this campaign into North Vallia.
“Of course,” went on Delia, “knowing Seg as we do we must not be surprised if he inspires the people of Balkan and becomes their High Kov very quickly and then marches over the mountains to help us. Yes?”
Drak said: “I hope Silda...” Then he stopped himself.
Delia and I knew what was in his mind. Well, I’d suffered enough for Delia’s sake, and now Drak suffered for Silda.
Now it is not my intention to give a blow-by-blow account of the North Vallian Campaign. The broad outlines of our plan were followed through with accuracy enough to ensure that the plan worked.
Drak took elements of the First and Second Armies around the east of the mountains and I took my Eighth around the western end of the mountains after we routed the hostile advance force at the Battle of the Blue Lizdun.
Now that the end was in sight we were joined by many folk who, even in the troublous times through which we had gone, had contrived to remain neutral. Neutral, one should add, in stance, for any neutral may have to suffer armed men marching through his lands and eating his produce and doing the unwholesome things badly led armies do even if the sufferers are not openly enemies.
Maybe it is churlish of me to say that; but we could have done with the help of these people earlier on. One such, of course, was the lord of Balkan; but he had reached the end of his journey upon Kregen and had shuffled off to meet the Gray Ones beckoning on the Ice Floes of Sicce. He died without living issue. Seg’s campaign up in Balkan came, in after years, to be talked about as a marvel of diplomacy, tact, firmness and plain good commonsense. He had the Balkans solidly for him in a miraculously short space of time.
The pronunciation of Balkan is not like the terrestrial “ball” but like “bat.” I mention this because Seg’s Hyr Kovnate of Balkan was nothing like the Balkans here on Earth. Also the stress falls on the second syllable: Bal
kan
.
He sent me regular letters by merker, those spry young folk who skim through the air aboard their birds carrying important messages. We had instituted the merker system in Vallia on a small scale, importing from Djanduin a useful colony of the small fast birds used there, the fluttcleppers.
I was seriously considering asking some of my winged friends who lived down south in Havilfar if they might
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