The Conqueror (8 page)

Let him be
grateful,
she thought. Let
him think that Lowren somehow displeased and disappointed me, and
that he had escaped in the night. Let him tremble for his head,
which was in no real danger, and let others seem him
tremble

Her first order of business
had been to state publicly that certain staff were being punished,
and that others were on probation. The official statement gave no
names, and no further details. Some of the troops, once they freed
themselves and reported their assault and abduction, had been
reassigned to training duties. Others here in the palace were
expecting momentary transfer to remote frontier outposts. They
could talk all they wanted, and some versions of the story would
get around. They needed a certain amount of window dressing, and
the punishment of long-serving and fairly senior officers was
fairly convincing. The only oddity was that Nyron had been promoted
and given a field command of raw troops. He had been ordered to
whip them into shape. Forty miles from Windermere, Nandadere was a
garrison town and about as provincial as the dark side of the moon
in cultural terms. On the face of it, Nyron had been punished
for
something.

It sent a mixed message and that was
good sometimes. Let the enemy ponder on that one.

“
I commend your spirit,
Lord Hermoslaus. The real threat is not from Lowren, who simply
doesn’t have the forces, but the Great Khan, who does. And we have
too much to recommend us as targets for his aggression…” She nodded
at the Minister of Commerce who winced slightly.

What were positives yesterday were
liabilities today—Windermere had a thriving economy and a grain
surplus ten years running. Her granaries were full, although prices
were a bit low, but in the event of war the price would go up.
Wheat and other grains were the kingdom’s real wealth. Windermere’s
population had almost doubled in thirty years due to enlightened
policies and special immigration incentives to skilled
candidates.

“
Lord Pell.”

“
Ah, yes. Majesty.” She and
Theodelinda had explained the problem and what Lowren had told them
as best they could recall.

It had been a long session. As to his
alleged presentation and subsequent absence, rumors were already
going about that he had disappointed her in the boudoir and been
put to death. Those rumors would last a few days and be replaced by
other rumors. The next set of rumors would be even more
outlandish…and so it would go. The important thing was that no one
had seen him since, and that the Queen and her party weren’t
talking.

“
Well. He’s right on pretty
much every point.” The kingdom lay at the hub of a network of trade
routes that radiated outwards like the spokes of a wheel. “Our own
production of meat, grain and other foodstuffs is considerable. Our
kingdom is relatively wealthy. And yet Lowren spoke of ships and
naval stores. In addition to other things.”

Many other things.

He pursed his lips.

“
Well, we have all that, of
course.” The Minister detailed how jack pines were used for masts
and linen for sails.

Flax, hemp and other fibers went into
rope. He quoted a few figures.

Windermere exported quite a lot of
rope, as it turned out. A goodly proportion was in fact purchased
by the Horde on a yearly basis.

Windermere’s forges and smithies
produced all sorts of hardware, including chandler’s stores. The
manufactories could be quickly adapted to more warlike activities
such as weapons or for equipping a fleet relatively quickly. But
what seemed like a positive was again just bait for the Khan. The
conclusion seemed inescapable. They were an inviting
target.

The kingdom was heavily forested, with
tall pines for masts, plenty of oaks for timbers and frames, and
lots of smaller trees which provided staves to make barrels for
shipment of wet goods. Wine and oil were a source of portable and
easily-transferrable wealth, and stored well for long periods.
There were a score of smaller industries, hides, beeswax and honey,
dried fish, lamp oil and bitumen for the caulking of
warships.

The kingdom had a surplus of certain
commodities, a situation which was vital to trade. Even their
armories were productive and well-stocked. They had bows and the
seasoned staves to make more, more than they had the manpower to
utilize. They had one-point-two million arrows and crossbow
quarrels, and three thousand crossbows, their components ready for
immediate assembly. All of it was properly stored and
accounted-for. Normally this would equip their own militia and
hastily-levied reserves. This weaponry would be a windfall to one
such as the Khan. Swords, pikes and bows were the stuff land armies
were made of. Like any modern army, the Khan would be equipping
hordes of auxiliaries as well—as many as he possibly
could.

There’s nothing to
stop
us
from doing
it either, Eleanora realized. Such small flashes of inspiration
were welcome indeed, in a rather barren and nonplussed atmosphere.
Fine for peace, her ministers were flabbergasted, though hiding it
well enough, at the thoughts of a real war—a big war, taking in all
the major powers. No smaller power would be entirely safe in such
an atmosphere.

Especially a war against Jumalak. His
empire covered half the continent. Beyond the Hordes lay nothing
but lost and unknown tribes. There lay scattered peoples who lived
half underground, in a land of small, bedraggled firs that dripped
constantly with moisture. A place where all the rivers ran north,
to a place of ice and snow and constantly-smoking
volcanoes.

Almost anyone else, they might have
handled—given a torrent, a waterfall of blood and
treasure.

It was interesting how fear clarified
the mind. Eleanora had always thought that a cliché.

Crystallized might be a better word for
it.

Theodelinda was consulting some brief
notes she had made during the meeting with the King of the
Lemni.

She didn’t appear to have any
questions, so he mused further.

“
The Khan’s mortal enemy
lies to the south, in the Empire. The Empire has been quite
protective, for their own reasons, of certain small states which
the Khan is not very fond of.” These included a couple of
republics, an emirate and a principality, as yet independent. “Yet
until the present, his power has always been in his land army,
which as we know, is estimated by his closest observers at
something on the order of two and a half million men.”

While the Empire of the South wasn’t an
active threat to the Horde, they would meddle quite a bit in the
affairs of small neighboring states, states which the Horde might
have an interest in themselves.

Over the last two years, the Khan had
been building ships in a great naval yard not far from his capital,
Artesphihan. This lay at the eastern end of the Great Sea,
dominating the choke-point of the narrows, and which ultimately led
to the South Arm. Artesphihan’s harbor had been greatly expanded,
which offered many commercial advantages to the Horde. To one such
as the Khan, this was secondary to military considerations. Armies
always had to be paid for—and he had recently increased all the
manifold and often petty excises and tolls along trading routes he
controlled.

Most of the soldiers would be on
garrison duty. A good proportion of the total were troops raised by
his retainers. There was little doubt that the Khan would field a
formidable force. With the acquisition of Sinopus, he had a strong
advanced base, with good access to the northern sea and a
ready-made fleet at his disposal. Sinope was another trading city,
and not considered barbarians. Their seamen were as good as any.
Located at the northern extremity of the Great Sea, on the landward
side, there was not much between here and there. Loosely-organized
barbarian states in the middle would either be swept aside, taken
under the wing of the Great Khan as allies and auxiliaries, or
simply flee before him. To take a solitary stand wasn’t exactly in
their best interest. One of the principles of statecraft was to
always understand the other fellow’s perspective. They would follow
the path of least resistance and, in any pinch, they could be
counted on to adhere to their own interests.

Lowren had been right on all counts,
Eleanora wasn’t particularly pleased to discover. But her most
trusted ministers were all agreeing with him.

The Minister of Foreign Policy spoke
next. Eleanora had always seen the sense of not having a Minister
of War, but then her policy was not aggressive. It wasn’t passive
either, but relied on collective benefits and therefore collective
security. Her policy and her alliances had always been in response
to major powers such as the Horde, the Empire of the South and
other powerful neighbors. The neighbors weren’t necessarily
unfriendly, they were merely powerful. They had their own best
interests at heart and it didn’t pay to be too weak amongst them.
Then the Great Khan had risen above his brethren and welded
together a hundred disparate and petty little kingdoms. He had an
empire of his own now, and he was only thirty-four years of age.
Kullin, Emperor of the South, was in his sixties. According to
reports, he did not look well. He had three sons, one lame and one
a cretin, only the oldest brother showing any real promise. The boy
was only seventeen years old, although he’d been invested with many
powers. The Emperor had seven or eight daughters, by three
different wives. Most had been married off into families that for
the most part had some relatively-clear claim on the throne in
their own right. Politically, it was a situation rife with disaster
in the event of an early demise on the part of Emperor
Kullin.

Eleanora’s heart was sinking faster by
the minute.

The time for speculation was at an end.
It wasn’t too difficult to see which way that situation was headed.
The Empire had aided and comforted the Great Khan’s enemies. Some
of the many kings, queens and princes displaced by the Khan were
still finding refuge in the Emperor’s own court. He had refused to
give them up, with not particularly good grace, and the Khan had
never dropped his petition, also not with particularly good
grace.

The Emperor’s policy of keeping his
neighbors weak and divided would come back to haunt him when the
Khan came calling. He didn’t have a friend in the world. When push
came to shove, his more distant neighbors would quickly ally
themselves with the Khan or make their peace otherwise, in the
hopes of being the last to be devoured.

Over the course of the meeting, they
all had the chance to speak, although one or two did
not.

After a while it devolved into
minutiae, which had its place.

General Forbis suggested strengthening
the south-east elevation of the outer walls. Water had been at it,
and erosion was taking away the topsoil. This had always been the
problem of building on a slope, he explained. The land was moving
downhill, no matter how slowly, and the fortifications had been
neglected to some extent, as times were peaceful and the money was
being spent elsewhere.

By the time they were done talking
again about the fleet, recruiting, stockpiles, weapons and
foodstuffs, it was turning into a very long council session
indeed.

After two and a half hours, she
adjourned the meeting.

In the next session scheduled for three
days hence, she would inform them of Lowren’s proposed plan of
attack.

In the meantime, they would have an
opportunity to think about the situation.

Chapter Six

The air was heavy with incense,
swirling up from thin, resinous sticks of burning gum, stinging the
nostrils when a random current of air brought it to
them.

The rites of purification were
extensive. There was long preparation in the privacy of her bathing
chamber, attended only by the purest of her maidens. The most
profound of the rituals took place in the Cave of
Sighs. 

It was said that the cave was never
silent, and yet they were over a hundred yards from the entrance.
If a person sat there very quietly, they could hear the sighs,
which had never been accounted for in purely naturalistic and
scientific terms. There was too much noise around them at present.
Their journey must take them deeper. Her heart fluttered as she
contemplated the possibilities. Perhaps it was the heaving tides
inside of some sea-cave, miles away, some kind of underground
volcano…or maybe it really was the breath of Gaia, the Mother of
the World.

She blew air out through loose lips,
nodding slightly as she did so, intent on the words she had
carefully memorized.

They stood on a clean rug of deep,
red-dyed wool. Around that, white rose petals had been strewn
everywhere, petering out into the darkness, away from the torches.
They stood in the middle of five torches, planted in the soft and
vile stuff that had fallen to the bottom over countless eons. There
were two dozen girls in the chorus, all as nude and pale and white
as she would be, long dark hair framing their faces and hanging
down, offering some modesty in spite of all being
revealed.