Semma?”
“Protect it from its enemies,” she explained.
“What enemies?”
“All enemies.”
“Semma has enemies?”
“Of course it does, idiot! Ksinallion, for one, and Ophkar, for another.”
Up until that moment, Sterren had entertained a vague hope that his unwanted new job would turn out to be a sinecure, with a title and pay and no duties. He suppressed a sigh of disappointment.
It came as especially bad news that both Semma’s larger neighbors were considered enemies — but at least, he told himself, he hadn’t arrived in the middle of a war.
“Do you think that . . . that a war may come soon?”
Lady Kalira grimaced. “Much too soon,” she said, “from the look of you, and what I’ve seen in the barracks of late.”
Had his knowledge of Semmat been good enough for the job, Sterren would have made a retort about being glad to relinquish his position as warlord, which he hadn’t asked for in the first place, if she thought someone else could do better.
Instead, he asked, “What do I do now? Today?”
“Well,” Lady Kalira said, looking about the chamber, “I suppose you’ll want to settle in here, maybe clean up a little. I’ll have Dogal fetch water and something to eat; I don’t suppose that you’ll want to come down for lunch. You’ll be expected to eat at the High Table at dinner, of course, to talk to His Majesty and meet some of the people here — the princes and princesses, for example — but I think you can leave all that until dinner. For this afternoon, I would recommend that you take some time to learn the situation here — talk to your officers, maybe look over the barracks, that sort of thing. You’re the warlord; you must know more about it than I do.”
Astonished, Sterren said, “But I was never a warlord before!”
“It’s in your blood, isn’t it?”
“Not that I ever noticed,” Sterren replied.
Lady Kalira ignored that, as she turned to the doorway and called, “Dogal, go down to the kitchens and get wash water and something for Lord Sterren to eat, would you?”
Dogal bobbed his head. “Yes, my lady,” he said, and then quickly departed.
“Alder, here, will help you unpack, if you like,” she suggested.
Sterren nodded absently. Alder stepped into the room, carrying the bundle of possessions that Sterren had collected from his room back on Bargain Street. He deposited it upon the bed and began untying it.
“My officers, you said,” Sterren said. The phrase carried an impression of power and authority, and he felt a sudden surge of interest.
“Yes, of course,” Lady Kalira replied.
“I suppose I should meet them, talk to them.”
“Yes.”
The thought of all those stairs came to him, and he asked, “Could you send them up here?”
“Of course, Lord Sterren,” Lady Kalira said, with a faint bow.
The bow startled him. Lady Kalira noticed his surprise, and explained, “Lord Sterren, I think I really should tell you that as warlord, now that you have accepted the position and that the king has acknowledged you, you outrank me. In fact, you are now one of the highest-ranking nobles in Semma. Historically, the warlord and the foreign minister are equal in rank and second only to the king and his immediate family, with all others — steward, treasurer, trader, all of them — your inferiors.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sterren mused on that for awhile, wondering just what such an exalted rank would actually mean in terms of power, privilege — and responsibility. He almost forgot Lady Kalira was there until she reminded him.
“My lord?” she asked.
“Ah,” Sterren said, startled. “Yes?”
“Lord Sterren, I’m tired and hungry, too. If you have no more questions, may I have your leave to go?”
Startled anew, Sterren stammered. “Of course,” he managed at last.
Lady Kalira curtseyed, then turned.
“Send up my officers,” Sterren called, “when I’m done eating.”
He was sure she had heard him, but she
“Protect it from its enemies,” she explained.
“What enemies?”
“All enemies.”
“Semma has enemies?”
“Of course it does, idiot! Ksinallion, for one, and Ophkar, for another.”
Up until that moment, Sterren had entertained a vague hope that his unwanted new job would turn out to be a sinecure, with a title and pay and no duties. He suppressed a sigh of disappointment.
It came as especially bad news that both Semma’s larger neighbors were considered enemies — but at least, he told himself, he hadn’t arrived in the middle of a war.
“Do you think that . . . that a war may come soon?”
Lady Kalira grimaced. “Much too soon,” she said, “from the look of you, and what I’ve seen in the barracks of late.”
Had his knowledge of Semmat been good enough for the job, Sterren would have made a retort about being glad to relinquish his position as warlord, which he hadn’t asked for in the first place, if she thought someone else could do better.
Instead, he asked, “What do I do now? Today?”
“Well,” Lady Kalira said, looking about the chamber, “I suppose you’ll want to settle in here, maybe clean up a little. I’ll have Dogal fetch water and something to eat; I don’t suppose that you’ll want to come down for lunch. You’ll be expected to eat at the High Table at dinner, of course, to talk to His Majesty and meet some of the people here — the princes and princesses, for example — but I think you can leave all that until dinner. For this afternoon, I would recommend that you take some time to learn the situation here — talk to your officers, maybe look over the barracks, that sort of thing. You’re the warlord; you must know more about it than I do.”
Astonished, Sterren said, “But I was never a warlord before!”
“It’s in your blood, isn’t it?”
“Not that I ever noticed,” Sterren replied.
Lady Kalira ignored that, as she turned to the doorway and called, “Dogal, go down to the kitchens and get wash water and something for Lord Sterren to eat, would you?”
Dogal bobbed his head. “Yes, my lady,” he said, and then quickly departed.
“Alder, here, will help you unpack, if you like,” she suggested.
Sterren nodded absently. Alder stepped into the room, carrying the bundle of possessions that Sterren had collected from his room back on Bargain Street. He deposited it upon the bed and began untying it.
“My officers, you said,” Sterren said. The phrase carried an impression of power and authority, and he felt a sudden surge of interest.
“Yes, of course,” Lady Kalira replied.
“I suppose I should meet them, talk to them.”
“Yes.”
The thought of all those stairs came to him, and he asked, “Could you send them up here?”
“Of course, Lord Sterren,” Lady Kalira said, with a faint bow.
The bow startled him. Lady Kalira noticed his surprise, and explained, “Lord Sterren, I think I really should tell you that as warlord, now that you have accepted the position and that the king has acknowledged you, you outrank me. In fact, you are now one of the highest-ranking nobles in Semma. Historically, the warlord and the foreign minister are equal in rank and second only to the king and his immediate family, with all others — steward, treasurer, trader, all of them — your inferiors.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sterren mused on that for awhile, wondering just what such an exalted rank would actually mean in terms of power, privilege — and responsibility. He almost forgot Lady Kalira was there until she reminded him.
“My lord?” she asked.
“Ah,” Sterren said, startled. “Yes?”
“Lord Sterren, I’m tired and hungry, too. If you have no more questions, may I have your leave to go?”
Startled anew, Sterren stammered. “Of course,” he managed at last.
Lady Kalira curtseyed, then turned.
“Send up my officers,” Sterren called, “when I’m done eating.”
He was sure she had heard him, but she
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