“Hyrklana has been almost untouched by the wars. There are many brave fighting men, Jaidur. You know that.”
“I know it.” His brows made a bar above his nose. “My scouts reported a swarm of those devilish ships of the Shanks sailing north. They keep well away from the coast. But it could be they seek to lull us. Should they reverse course and strike Hyrklana... do I need to spell it out, father?”
“Shanks. There were many of them?”
“More than any man can remember having seen in one fleet before.”
“Then that is all the more reason for the invasion plan. We have to make Hamal and all the countries of Paz understand they must stand together against these confounded Shanks.”
“That is surely a dream—”
“No!”
Lildra, with a laugh more nervous than any of us liked, said: “Cannot we talk to the Empress Thyllis? Surely diplomacy will make her understand?”
“She’s a she-leem,” said Jaidur.
“I would try diplomacy,” I said, somewhat heavily. “But you tend to be stabbed in the back after you make treaties and arrangements. I know. I think Hamal will listen more readily to sensible proposals when an allied army is camped in Ruathytu.” I tried to clear my frown away, and could not. “But I do not like it, by Vox. I would to Zair there was no need for wars!”
“Well, father, there is and we are in one, whether we like it or not.” Jaidur motioned the hovering servants with their silver trays of refreshments to approach. “You will eat and drink? For I see you are, as ever, anxious to be gone.”
“I am going to Vallia. I shall convey your love and respect to your mother — if she’s in Valka or Vondium. Now, Jaidur — Vax Neemusbane — will you send that army to invade?”
He nodded. I’d known him as Vax before he knew I was his father. “Yes. Rely on me. If I cannot lead the army myself, I shall send the best men I have.”
“Thank Zair! And I need twenty-five men from you for my ship. Men who can carry off a deception — I know their names.”
He laughed. “Norhan the Flame and Frandu the Franch, I suppose—”
“If they are available and willing. I suppose no one has run across that numim, Mazdo the Splandu? No?” as they shook their heads. “Well, I have the feeling he will turn up again.”
“You are welcome to them, a pair of know-it-all rogues.”
“Then the next time we meet will be in Ruathytu.”
He looked grave, the laughter lines flown. “If Zair wills it.”
I glared at him. I felt young and impetuous and to hell with gravity and long faces, despite all the difficulties and dangers ahead. The dip in the magical Pool of Baptism in far Aphrasöe had kept me young, physically certainly and, I trusted sincerely and with fervor, mentally as well. So I spoke with an energy that made Lildra glance up quickly.
“Zair does will it, Jaidur! And, in truth, so do Havil and Havandua and Djan and any other godhead you can imagine, save those few bloody-minded warrior gods among whom Djan is not numbered. The people of Paz may believe in and worship any number of different deities; they are all united against whatever Fish-headed demons rule the Leem-loving Shanks who raid us all indifferently.”
“I believe you, father. By Vox! You are touchy—”
Almost, almost, I said, “You’d be touchy if you had my problems.” But I did not and stilled my tongue.
During the alfresco lunch we discussed in more detail just how the Hamalian onslaught on Huringa might best be met, and I flatter myself I was extraordinarily tactful in giving Jaidur advice. Anyway, he was a Krozair of Zy which, although the Krozairs are doughty fighters, does not automatically turn a Krozair Brother into a strategist. It does give a fellow more than an inkling of military matters. The Krozairs, martial and mystic, an order to which I am devoted, for all their disciplines and skills do not concern themselves overmuch with the problems of aerial warfare.
“And it is in the air lies the key!” said Lildra.
“Yes.” Jaidur swallowed his mouthful. “Did the news come in yet of the raids on the voller production centers?”
I shook my head. “I’ve received no intelligence. But the raids must have done some good, for production of the silver boxes is causing the damned Hamalese severe headaches.”
“And their flying sailers, these famblehoys. They really are inferior to our vorlcas?”
“Only in the sail plan and in the handling. If you have the opportunity of capturing any, do so, by all means. Vallian shipmasters can soon make respectable sailers out of them.”
“H’m,” he said, and took another huge bite, and chewed, and Lildra, looking brilliant, drank her parclear off. I sat back and pondered how it was the Good Lord delivered to us children of so diverse a nature. Still, that conundrum makes two worlds go round, surely...
The twenty-five men I asked for arrived, carrying their possessions in bundles tied to sticks, ready for anything.
I eyed Norhan the Flame sternly. His shock hair had been cut and trimmed, so that he looked most odd to me, who was used to seeing him fighting in the Arena with his hair mass about him. But he still possessed that knowing twist to his lips and that remarkably evil fishy eye. Next to him, Frandu the Franch exhibited all the symptoms of intense pleasure open to a Fristle, and so I guessed they’d been arguing as usual.
“Norhan,” I said, “you will be very careful with any pots of combustibles you happen to have about your person.”
“They will find useful employment on the decks of Hamalians.”
The fact that these stout fighting men must act the part of Hamalese was spelled out for them. Frandu riffled his whiskers. “We’re too smart for them! By Numi-Hyrjiv the Golden Splendor, we’ll run rings around them!”
So, with an augmented crew and the remberees ringing high, we took off for Valka and Vallia.
At this time a certain number of locations on Kregen were, for all that the planet remained marvelous and evocative wherever I happened to be, of special importance. Strombor, Djanduin, Valka. And, yes, it would be totally dishonest to exclude Paline Valley from this number. Strombor, the city enclave of Zenicce, of which I was lord, was located on the west coast of the continent of Segesthes and was for all practical purposes out of the conflict centered on Hamal. Djanduin, peopled by ferocious four-armed Djangs and clever gerbil-faced two-armed Djangs, lay in the far southwest of Havilfar and would most certainly be embroiled in the war. I am King of Djanduin. But — Valka. Ah, Valka! That beautiful island off the east coast of Vallia means so very much — the people there Fetched me to be their strom, and Delia and I had made a wonderfully happy home in the high fortress of Esser Rarioch overlooking Valkanium and the bay.
To Valkanium and Esser Rarioch I flew in
Mathdi.
The journey time was occupied in beginning the organization of the increased crew nucleus and of drawing up a provisional watch list. The man I wanted for ship-Hikdar, equivalent to the First Lieutenant, Bonnu Varander ti Valkor, might not be available. Here lay one of the ever-present problems of selecting men for command; you give them a job and they do it well and you have to weigh up the advantages of shifting them around against the disadvantages. Anyway, Bonnu could handle a voller with superb efficiency and a panache I think peculiar to Valkans. But then, I am prejudiced.
Most of the men — many of whom you have met in my narrative — with whom I had fought and worked earlier were now fully occupied. Certainly, if Drak could spare a few I’d take members of the emperor’s guards, and agonize over the choices.
Valka swam up out of the shimmering sea in a haze of blue and a rising tide of happy nostalgia. Useless to repeat ecstatic descriptions of the island. Superb, simply superb, Valka, and my home of Esser Rarioch the jewel in the crown.
Because dear old creaky
Mathdi
was so clearly Hamalian in origin I ran up the flags Jaidur had given me. The Hamalese, in the days when they built and sold vollers, usually manufactured those for themselves to different designs from those for export.
Mathdi
was aggressively Hamalian. The brave flutter of red and yellow and red and white flags from her staffs should at least cause the Valkan patrols to think again before shooting us to pieces.
However, it was a Deldar I knew, astride his flutduin, the powerful bird docile to his commands, lethal to foes, who landed on
Mathdi’s
deck and leaped off his saddle-flyer. He was beaming from ear to ear, bearded, girded with weapons, muscled, alert, a fighter who would never cry quarter — in short, your typical Valkan.
“Strom!” he bellowed. “Lahal and Lahal!”
“Lahal, Virko, you great rascal. It is good to see you.” His patrol flew circles about us, watchfully, as per standing orders. “Come and drink a stoup. And tell me all the news.”
“Quidang, strom!”
I believe even those fighting rogues I had brought from Hyrklana and the Dawn Lands took notice of Deldar Virko the Chunkrah, impressed despite themselves.
The news was almost uniformly good. That made a pleasant change, by Vox! But I interrupted Deldar Virko to say, “Now hear me, Virko. You called me strom, which—”
I stopped speaking at sight of his powerful face which crumpled as though in anticipation of unjustified punishment.
I cursed myself. My Valkans called me strom instead of majister because to them I was their strom first, and the emperor a long place after. This was acceptable, more — it gave me a fine warm feeling. But this was not the cause of my words. I started over.
“You did right to call me strom, Virko.” He brightened and tugged his beard, listening hard. “In fact, you have given me an idea. I do not want these fellows with me — fine fighting lads — to know I am the Emperor of Vallia.”
Virko nodded sagely. I went on, “If it is to be strom, it cannot be Strom of Valka, for folk know he is Emperor of Vallia also. There is that pretty little island with the wild gregarians, you know it, Virko — Thydun — I fancy I’ll have to be called Strom Jak of Thydun for a bit.”
“Quidang!” rapped Virko. “The word will be passed.”
He was bursting with the importance he attached to this mild example of skullduggery and was as excited by it as though winging down into a fight. Anyway, Thydun was a simple enough name, and fitted well enough. He went on with the news and as I listened I realized that it might be better if instead of going to Vondium, capital of Vallia, as I had planned, I sent for the people I wanted. That would keep the operation within bounds, tidy. Also, I would get back to Hamal considerably faster.
Turko had just about reclaimed his kovnate, both the Blue and Black Hills of Central Western Vallia were cleared, and the lines between us and the recalcitrants to the north had stabilized. Now, as you know, that last was not to my liking. But in the present circumstances when we needed to bring every fighting man against Hamal, firm frontiers, even if temporary, were far better than fighting campaigns up there. Virko flew off to pass my immediate orders by word of mouth, and I settled down to write orders that would summon the folk I needed, to redistribute some of the forces and — and set the Host of Vallia in motion.
Only one man stood in my mind to lead the Vallians.
To Seg I wrote, in part: “As the allies from the Dawn Lands have moved ahead of time you must move decisively and fast. Get the forces in motion and keep either Deb-Lu-Quienyin or Khe-Hi-Bjanching at your side always to contact me. As soon as I can discover the deployment plans of the Hamalese, the Wizards of Loh will inform you.” I went on into more detail, but I knew that Seg Segutorio, who traditionally commanded the vaward of the armies of Vallia, would not fail.
Seg Segutorio, Master Bowman of Loh, from Erthyrdrin — the finest comrade any man could ever find on two worlds, by Zair!
To my own bitter disappointment in order to maintain the cover name of Strom Jak na Thydun, I did not land at Esser Rarioch in Valkanium. We bypassed Valka and touched down on Thydun, a pretty little island, as I had said, filled with suns shine and ripening fruit and simple folk whose villages were models of tidiness and charm. Here we watered and Deldar Virko, appointed into the temporary capacity as chief of merkers, kept me informed. Merkers, aerial messengers, usually fly fluttcleppers or volcleppers; but Virko handled his duties well. Fast airboats trafficked between Valkanium and Thydun, and I waited and kicked my heels, and presently
Mathdi
began to fill up with the bronzed keen faces and tough bodies of the men I needed.
Each one was now given a double task of deception. He was to call me Strom Jak, and he was to act the part of a Hamalese.
By Krun! I can tell you these doughty fighters joyed in these games of skullduggery!
In any event, I crammed a hundred and ten souls into
Mathdi.
Plans for their employment filled an idle hour with dark schemes. I will not detail their names. Each one was accounted a kampeon, a veteran of the army or Air Service, and many were hyr-paktuns returned to their homeland to fight for Vallia. As soon as we were all aboard,
Mathdi
lifted up and away from Thydun, and we dropped the blue haze of Valka astern of us. We flew on over the sea, heading south, heading for Hamal and our foes and for perils and adventures that would, if the light of Opaz shone upon us, bring us the victory.
Of the Power of Hamal
The conceit of our enterprise filled the swods with unholy glee. Or, given the feelings we had of a great crusade, perhaps it would be correct to say holy joy. We were bringing a Hamalian Air Service vessel to join with the Hamalese, and she was stuffed with Vallians and Hyrklese and men from the Dawn Lands, foes of Hamal! As I say, the conceit charmed us all.
We maintained a strict discipline from the very start, doing everything by the Hamalian book, which Chuktar Fydur ham Thorfrann, our wing commander, had made sure I thoroughly understood. There were hitches, of course. Much laughter boomed and rang about
Mathdi
as some wight forgot he was no longer a Vallian and started cursing away and bellowing “By Vox!” until he was reminded that “By Krun!” was now
de rigueur
. There were surprisingly few fights between the contingents, and protocol was quickly settled as the watch list was promulgated and men knew the jobs they were expected to fill.