The Prince Commands: Being Sundry Adventures of Michael Karl, Sometime Crown Prince & Pretender to the Thrown of Morvania by Andre Norton Page A
Authors: Andre Norton
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long. The last king was assassinated while visiting there. Innesberg has none of Rein's beauty or age and is shunned by the nobility. It is very modern and ugly.
“Rein on the other hand is like one of those improbably beautiful tower cities which appear now and then stamped on the covers of fairy tale books. The streets in the Upper Town are paved with cobblestones and most of them too narrow to get a car through. On the crown of the hill is the fortress and the Upper Town winds up to meet it.
“The New or Lower Town, where the foreign colony, Ministers, commercial representatives and so forth live, is across the Laub at the foot of the hill.”
“Where do you live?” interrupted Michael Karl.
“A friend of mine lent me his house on the Pala Horn. It's a curving street leading out of the Cathedral Square. Only the more conservative of the older nobility live there now when even outsiders like myself creep in, but once only the bluest of the blue bloods dared to think of living there. My house is directly below the Fortress and there is a legend that a secret passage connects the two, a bolthole used by the duke in the old days.
“From the Cathedral Square there's a maze of little streets full of queer little shops and inns. And if you follow down far enough you come to the Bargo, the criminal section of town. The place is a horror and should be cleaned up.
“If instead of going straight down you follow the wide avenue which they call ‘The Avenue of the Duke’ around the curve of the hill you come to the bridge which leads across the Laub to New Rein. New Rein and the Upper Town have little in common nowadays.
“But Rein is a stronghold in more ways than one. The saying goes, ‘Who Holds Rein Holds Morvania,’ and that is more than true. You see it's built at the apex of the triangle which is the fertile plain of Morvania. Innesberg is well out in the middle of the plain.
“Should Innesberg revolt, Rein can bring her to terms in no time at all. All Innesberg's water supply is pumped from the mountains behind Rein. A couple of bombs well placed would send the pipes miles high, and Innesberg would be very meek.”
“What sort of an air force is there?”
The American frowned and then his face cleared. “Oh, bombing planes for the pipe job? Well, there's a wreck of a thing that the thrifty king bought after the last mixup. A wild countryman of ours risks his neck in it once a week or whenever the Council want to impress visiting dignitaries with the ‘Air Force.’ No, any bombing to be done would have to be done on the earth.”
They rumbled over a wooden bridge. Mountains and their rolling foothills had given way to the pleasant level country where, here and there, a bright-coated peasant was urging a clumsy ox or heavy-footed horse on to plow his field. The moist furrows were very brown against the spring green of the grass, and the gayest of breezes was tugging at Michael Karl's leather peaked cap. It might be snowing in the mountains, but spring had come to stay in the farmlands.
He breathed deeply and wished somewhat wistfully that he could wander at will along the road. Ericson smiled sympathetically.
“It does get one, doesn't it? But wait until you see Rein for the first time. We come down the Hartiz Mountain, and the Laub looks like a silver chain holding the whole city in enchantment. There's nothing like it anywhere else on earth.”
A shepherd, whose round cloth cap boasted the jauntiest of cock's feathers, whistled to his dog, and the gray roadster drew to one side to let the worried little collie snap and bark his stupid charges across the road. With a lazy smile the shepherd touched his cap and wished them a pleasant day and a fine ending to their journey.
“Half of Morvania's charm,” Frank Ericson seemed to speak more to himself than to Michael Karl, “is her people. If they were only let alone they would be the happiest and most contented people in the world. But they aren't,
“Rein on the other hand is like one of those improbably beautiful tower cities which appear now and then stamped on the covers of fairy tale books. The streets in the Upper Town are paved with cobblestones and most of them too narrow to get a car through. On the crown of the hill is the fortress and the Upper Town winds up to meet it.
“The New or Lower Town, where the foreign colony, Ministers, commercial representatives and so forth live, is across the Laub at the foot of the hill.”
“Where do you live?” interrupted Michael Karl.
“A friend of mine lent me his house on the Pala Horn. It's a curving street leading out of the Cathedral Square. Only the more conservative of the older nobility live there now when even outsiders like myself creep in, but once only the bluest of the blue bloods dared to think of living there. My house is directly below the Fortress and there is a legend that a secret passage connects the two, a bolthole used by the duke in the old days.
“From the Cathedral Square there's a maze of little streets full of queer little shops and inns. And if you follow down far enough you come to the Bargo, the criminal section of town. The place is a horror and should be cleaned up.
“If instead of going straight down you follow the wide avenue which they call ‘The Avenue of the Duke’ around the curve of the hill you come to the bridge which leads across the Laub to New Rein. New Rein and the Upper Town have little in common nowadays.
“But Rein is a stronghold in more ways than one. The saying goes, ‘Who Holds Rein Holds Morvania,’ and that is more than true. You see it's built at the apex of the triangle which is the fertile plain of Morvania. Innesberg is well out in the middle of the plain.
“Should Innesberg revolt, Rein can bring her to terms in no time at all. All Innesberg's water supply is pumped from the mountains behind Rein. A couple of bombs well placed would send the pipes miles high, and Innesberg would be very meek.”
“What sort of an air force is there?”
The American frowned and then his face cleared. “Oh, bombing planes for the pipe job? Well, there's a wreck of a thing that the thrifty king bought after the last mixup. A wild countryman of ours risks his neck in it once a week or whenever the Council want to impress visiting dignitaries with the ‘Air Force.’ No, any bombing to be done would have to be done on the earth.”
They rumbled over a wooden bridge. Mountains and their rolling foothills had given way to the pleasant level country where, here and there, a bright-coated peasant was urging a clumsy ox or heavy-footed horse on to plow his field. The moist furrows were very brown against the spring green of the grass, and the gayest of breezes was tugging at Michael Karl's leather peaked cap. It might be snowing in the mountains, but spring had come to stay in the farmlands.
He breathed deeply and wished somewhat wistfully that he could wander at will along the road. Ericson smiled sympathetically.
“It does get one, doesn't it? But wait until you see Rein for the first time. We come down the Hartiz Mountain, and the Laub looks like a silver chain holding the whole city in enchantment. There's nothing like it anywhere else on earth.”
A shepherd, whose round cloth cap boasted the jauntiest of cock's feathers, whistled to his dog, and the gray roadster drew to one side to let the worried little collie snap and bark his stupid charges across the road. With a lazy smile the shepherd touched his cap and wished them a pleasant day and a fine ending to their journey.
“Half of Morvania's charm,” Frank Ericson seemed to speak more to himself than to Michael Karl, “is her people. If they were only let alone they would be the happiest and most contented people in the world. But they aren't,
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