Demonkin (13 page)

“Nothing of note,” replied Colonel Taerin, pleased that the general was treating him kindly again. “Most of the rumors since you left have revolved around the A Corps. It would seem that the visiting generals from Karamin and Vinafor are a bit jealous of your army, even if it is made up of misfits. General Garibaldi is particularly eager for news about you.”

“Is he now?” chuckled Clint. “Garibaldi wouldn’t know what to do with an army under his command, but he probably wants one just because I have one.”

“I think you understand him rather well,” grinned the colonel. “Shall I tell Grand General Kyrga that you are freshening up?”

“That would be appropriate.” Clint nodded. “Buy me ten minutes or so. Where will I find Kyrga?”

“He will be in his office,” replied the colonel. “I will take the long way back to the palace.”

Clint nodded as the colonel left the stables. He liked Taerin, but such a friendship could turn out to be a problem. He had no doubts about Kyrga’s ability to spy on everyone in the palace, and Taerin might very well be one of those spies. He made a mental note to continue befriending the colonel, but also to remain mindful of what his other duties might be.

General Forshire moved swiftly to the rear door of the palace. He gained entry to his suite without running into anyone who might ask questions that he wasn’t ready to answer. He quickly washed up and changed uniforms before leaving the suite and heading to the office of Grand General Kyrga. He was immediately ushered into the office and he found Kyrga sitting behind his desk. General Forshire saluted formally and waited for his superior officer to speak.

“You are back in Despair much sooner than I expected,” stated Kyrga. “Have you raised your army?”

“I have two thousand men under my command,” replied general Forshire. “Should you come into possession of more horses, I still have enough applicants to expand.”

“Sit down, Forshire,” ordered Kyrga as he waved at the chair before his desk. “Tell me everything about this army of misfits and why I should continue to let you play with them.”

Clint sat down with a deep frown on his face. He looked across the desk at his superior as if trying to determine what the real question was.

“My men may be castoffs from the regular army,” General Forshire declared, “but they form an efficient army. You gave me the task of hunting down rebels, and I have undertaken that task with a dedication seldom seen in the Federation army. In fact, my men have just eliminated three rebels deep in the Dark Forest.”

“Deep in the Dark Forest?” Kyrga echoed with surprise. “What were your men doing deep in the Dark Forest?”

Clint heard the tone of surprise in Kyrga’s voice, but the man’s eyes betrayed him. Clint knew that somehow the Grand General was fully aware of what had happened near Camp Destiny. The question in Clint’s mind was whether or not the ruse had been exposed for what it was.

“The papers you gave me on the rebels were woefully incomplete,” General Forshire said with a touch of anger in his voice. “I do not know whether that was done out of distrust for me, or for some other reason, but I can track down and eliminate these rebels. In those papers was a report that the rebels might be holding up in the Dark Forest waiting for an attempt to get through one of the passes. I decided to investigate and see for myself. Was that wrong?”

One of Kyrga’s eyebrows rose as he listened to Forshire’s strong defense. He knew that the papers had been abbreviated. In fact, he had ordered it to be so, and the Tyronian was correct. It was a matter of trust, or the lack of it, but he was not going to admit that.

“How did you determine that the three people were rebels?” asked Kyrga.

“We combed the forest,” explained Clint. “Each homestead was questioned, not only about themselves, but also about their neighbors. The three people occupying the cabin in question were not Ertakans. They grew no food around their cabin, and they only left it after dark. They were also heavily armed. When one of my men saw the witch light a fire with her fingertips, we knew that we had stumbled upon something. We surrounded the cabin and called for their surrender. We were attacked with magical projectiles.”

“That does not prove that they were rebels,” retorted Grand General Kyrga.

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed General Forshire as he placed the melted coins on Kyrga’s desk. “That is why I hurried back here to see you. These coins have the marking of an unknown government on them. Some place called Alcea. I would like to see the rest of the files that have been denied to me. Perhaps I can find some reference to this Alcea in them.”

“So you fancy yourself a great sleuth in addition to being a great general?” scoffed Kyrga.

“I fancy myself as someone who completes a task given to him,” countered Clint. “I am doing my best for the Federation, Grand General Kyrga. Why are you fighting me? Have I done something to offend you?”

Kyrga stared blackly at Clint for several minutes without answering. Eventually he sighed and relaxed.

“It is not in my nature to be trustful,” Kyrga said. “There are too many forces working against the emperor. You are correct about the coins. There is a country across the sea named Alcea, and some of the rebels do hail from there. You have done well, General Forshire. Your successes surprise me, and that tends to make me suspicious, but even I must admit that you have succeeded where many others have failed. You may keep your A Corps, but it will not grow any larger. Already your competitors are demanding armies of their own, and I cannot afford the horses.”

“Garibaldi and Fabio?” asked Clint.

Kyrga sighed and nodded. “Those men are fools, but they are your contemporaries. Perhaps it would be best to keep the A Corps away from Despair for a while.”

“Anything that would make your life easier,” Clint smiled thinly. “I doubt the rebels would dare come this far south anyway. May I have the rest of the files?”

“The files were only abbreviated to remove any reference to Alcea,” replied Kyrga as he rose to his feet. “There is no need for you to be bothered with them now. Thank you for stopping by, General Forshire.”

Clint stood as Kyrga came around the desk and walked towards the door leading out of the office. It appeared as if Kyrga had somewhere to go, and he was in a hurry to get there. Clint hurriedly followed, and the two men left the office together. Before they had gone a dozen places, Clint stopped suddenly. Kyrga turned to see what the matter was.

“The gold coins,” said Clint. “I left them on your desk. They may come in handy when I interrogate others.”

Kyrga looked towards the door guards and sighed as he nodded permission for Forshire to retrieve the coins. Kyrga turned and hurried away. Clint smiled embarrassingly as he returned to the door to Kyrga’s office. A guard opened the door and held it open as Clint ducked inside. Instead of approaching the desk directly, the Ranger walked around the desk. The guard watched as he bent over and picked up the coins from the desk. When the guard looked away for a moment, Clint deftly unlocked the window shutter behind him and hurried towards the door. He nodded thanks to the guard and moved swiftly to his suite.

Clint remained in his room until it was time for the evening meal before heading downstairs to the dining room setup for the visiting generals. General Garibaldi of Vinafor was already seated at the head of the table, and General Fabio of Karamin sat on his right. Clint took the seat across the table from Fabio.

“The Commander of A Corps graces us with his presence,” scoffed General Garibaldi as Clint sat down.

General Forshire smiled thinly and nodded to General Fabio. “Pleased to meet you again, General Fabio.” Clint turned his head towards General Garibaldi with a broad smile on his lips. “And you, too, Major. What is on the menu this evening?”

Garibaldi’s face reddened, but he did not storm out of the room as he had previously. “You will not bait me again, Forshire. You may think yourself better than the rest of us, but we know better. Anyone can get a bunch of prisoners and throw uniforms on them. That does not make an army.”

“Anyone?” grinned General Forshire. “I understand that you are having trouble getting such authorization for yourself. Do you suppose that maybe you cannot even be trusted with prisoners?”

Garibaldi’s hands clenched in rage, but General Fabio’s interruption saved the Vinaforan from making a complete fool of himself.

“How did you manage to convince Kyrga to give you an army?” the Karaminian general asked. “We have indeed requested the same, and he has steadfastly refused. What is your secret?”

Clint turned and studied Fabio for a moment before answering. “I made the case that I could turn wasted lives into valuable assets,” General Forshire stated. “What puzzles me is why you would seek to duplicate what I have done. The last time we met both of you were quite happy spending your days in idle luxury.”

“It does get boring,” shrugged general Fabio. “Besides, now that you have started it, we do appear to be inferior without an army of our own. That is not an easy thing for any man to handle.”

“I assure you,” Clint said earnestly, “that was not my intent. I truly could not stand being cooped up in here all the time. I love commanding an army. It is what I was born for. I will leave the trappings of royalty for others.”

“Do you suppose you could put in a word for us with Kyrga?” asked General Fabio. “Our armies would not have to be as large as yours, but command of any unit would raise our prestige around here.”

Clint glanced at Garibaldi and saw that the rage had fled from him. He looked back at Fabio and sighed heavily.

“Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot here,” Clint said. “There is no need for strife among us. We belong to three different countries, so we are not competitors. I cannot convince Kyrga to give you armies, but I do have some advice if you want it.”

“I would welcome it,” General Fabio replied quickly.

Clint glanced at General Garibaldi and the overweight Vinaforan nodded in agreement.

“There are absolutely no horses available,” Clint stated. “If you truly want an army, it would have to be infantry. Kyrga will also not waste real soldiers on any of us. I pulled mine from the prisons, and I suspect you will have to do the same.”

“If you left any worthwhile candidates,” huffed General Garibaldi.

“I did choose the best of the lot,” admitted Clint, “but again, we are not competitors. In fact, my army will not be returning to Despair, so no one is going to compare your army to mine. Ask Kyrga for a small number of infantry that you can parade around the city. He will probably agree just to make you happy.”

“Why is the A Corps not returning to Despair?” asked General Fabio.

“Because Kyrga doesn’t want them around,” Clint smiled thinly. “I suspect he wishes he had never authorized my army, but it is hard for him to back away now. He would have to imprison men who have already been pardoned. It would get rather messy.”

“Will you put in a good word for us?” asked General Fabio.

Clint looked each man in the eye and then nodded. “I will,” he smiled. “Remember to keep your requests modest. Start with a hundred men and see how that goes.”

“Thank you, General Forshire,” General Fabio said as he rose to his feet.

Garibaldi also rose, and Clint nodded to each of them. “Good day, General Fabio. General Garibaldi.”

The two men left the room, and Clint dined leisurely in private. After dining, he continued to sit in the dining room as he tried to figure a way to use the private armies of Fabio and Garibaldi to his advantage. After a while, he smiled inwardly and rose to his feet. He left the dining room and roamed around the palace for a while before exiting the building. For several hours, he walked aimlessly around the grounds of the palace, or at least that is how it would have appeared to any objective observer. What Clint was really doing was noting the positions of the nighttime sentries and marking the time of their rotations.

The hour was quite late by the time Clint retired to his room. He immediately stripped off all the golden emblems from his uniform and unlocked the window shutters. Next he grabbed a coil of rope and a small metal grappling hook. He placed these in a canvas pack and slung it over his back. Moving stealthily to the door, he eased it open and peered into the hallway. Seeing no one in the corridor, the Ranger slid into the hall and closed the door to his room. He locked the door and moved quietly to the staircase.

Stepping lightly, Clint made his way to the top floor. The top floor hosted bedrooms for minor officers and visiting couriers. It was also the location of a hatchway leading to the crawlways of the attic. The hatch was located in a wall of the main corridor of the top floor. Clint looked both ways before dropping to his knees in front of the hatch. He stuck his finger in his pocket and woke up the fairy. Peanut stuck his head out of the pocket and glanced around before leaping onto Clint’s shoulder. Clint pointed to the four sliders that held the hatch in place.

“I need you to put these back in place after I am gone,” Clint whispered. “Can you do it?”

“It will be a snap,” grinned the little man. “How do I follow you?”

“I will be on the roof in a bit,” answered Clint as he swiveled the four sliders and removed the hatch cover.

The Ranger placed his pack inside the crawlway and then followed it. He knelt in the small crawlspace, lifted the hatch cover into place and held it while Peanut secured it. When Peanut was done, Clint slung the pack over his back and began crawling away from the hatch. He had never been in this attic before, but he had been in similar ones in Tagaret. There was barely enough room for a man to crawl in the tiny space between the roof and the rooms of the top floor. The crawlspace was not fully floored. The right-hand side of the crawlspace had wooden flooring to crawl upon. The left-hand side was a large gap between the floorboards and the edge of the roof that allowed Clint to stare straight down to ground level. The gap was broken every so often by a beam running perpendicular to the crawlway. Those beams supported the roof.

Clint tested each beam, looking for one that was sturdy and not rotted. When he found one that was acceptable, he eased himself onto it. Perched under the overhang, Clint reached above and behind him to feel for the construction hook that should be in the edge of the roof. Hooks were usually installed to hold pulleys during the construction of tall buildings. Those pulleys were used to raise the pallets of slate that covered the roofs. He sighed nervously as he found it. Reaching into the pack on his back, Clint pulled out a short length of rope. He passed it through the construction hook and then around his chest. He tied a knot in the rope and then reached into his pack again. He fumbled around until he felt the small grappling hook and pulled it out of the pack. He retrieved an end to the longer piece of rope in the pack and tied it to the grappling hook. He looped most of the remains of the long coil of rope around his shoulder, leaving a healthy half-dozen paces of rope hanging free.