The Redemption of Althalus (43 page)

The ladies took a while—quite a while—to dress for dinner, and then they all sat down to what could only be called a banquet.

Andine reverted to hovering, and she filled Eliar’s plate three times before he advised her that he was “full clear up to here” with a gesture in the vicinity of his throat.

“How long’s that been going on?” Khalor asked Althalus.

“Quite a while now.”

“I was sort of wondering why Eliar’s been having trouble concentrating here lately. The same sort of thing’s happening between the priest and the witch, isn’t it? Do you think you could persuade Dweia to hold off on the weddings until
after
the war? Married men don’t make good soldiers.”

“She’s sort of keeping things under control,” Althalus said. “I think she agrees with you on the issue of mixing wars and weddings, Sergeant.” Then he looked across the table at Dweia. “Would you be offended if we talked shop while we eat?” he asked her.

“As long as you don’t get
too
graphic,” she replied.

“I think we’d better have Eliar take Brother Bheid back to Keiwon,” Althalus said. “There’s a redheaded shepherd there that Sergeant Khalor’s going to need when the fighting starts. We’ll want him to gather up as many other shepherds as he can lay his hands on and start them toward the frontier.”

“You’re going to actually make them walk?” Bheid asked.

“We aren’t going to need them for several days, so let’s keep them out from underfoot until the earthworks are complete. If they make it to the trenches on time, fine. If they’re still too far away on the day before the invasion, Eliar can use the doors to get them where they need to be.”

“Should I stay in Keiwon with Bheid?” Eliar asked.

“No. Just take him to Keiwon and come right back. You have to take Khalor and me to see Albron. We need to decide which clan we want to use to build those fortifications, and I might need some kind of authorization to start that clan marching.”

“A keg or two of those gold coins is probably all the authorization you’re going to need, Althalus,” Khalor snorted. “I think I’m going to use Gweti’s clan to build the fortifications, and the word ‘gold’ gets Gweti’s complete attention.”

“Let’s pay attention to the courtesies, Khalor. I don’t want to offend Chief Albron.”

“Excuse me,” Gher said. “I just had an idea.”

“Brace yourself, Sergeant,” Althalus warned Khalor. “Gher can be
very
creative when it comes to using those doors. Some of his ideas are so complicated that half the time I don’t even understand what he’s talking about. Go ahead, Gher.”

“This war’s not the only one we’ll have to fight, is it?”

“I’m sure it’s only the first one. There’ll be others.”

“Then wouldn’t it be a good idea to start
all
the Arums marching right now?”

“Where to?” Khalor asked curiously.

“That doesn’t really matter.”

“I don’t exactly follow you, young man.”

“Well, it takes a little while for them to get started, doesn’t it? I mean, they’ve got to gather up their equipment, say good-bye to their lady friends, get drunk a time or two, and things like that. Isn’t that sort of the way it goes?”

“It’s pretty close to that, yes.”

“The time might come sometime later when one of Ghend’s people surprises us, so we might need a lot of soldiers in a hurry. If they’re already marching up and down the hallways here in the House, Eliar can pop them through a door, and they’ll be right where we need them in about a minute.”

“You mean just walk them around in circles?” Eliar asked in a puzzled tone.

“Why not? Wouldn’t that fix it so that Emmy won’t have to trick them into thinking that they’ve been walking for months and months? Some of them really
will
be walking for a long time. They’ll be right here any time you need them. You’ll have seven or eight armies right in your pocket, and you can take them out any time you need them.”

“Can we
do
that?” Khalor asked Althalus incredulously.

“I don’t see why not. We might have to work out a few details, but the basic idea’s perfectly sound.”

“Did I leave something out, Althalus?” Gher asked.

“We’ll have to tell them where they’re going, Gher. We almost have to let them know where the war is before they start.”

Gher shrugged. “Tell them they’re going to Fiddle-Faddle or Hippety-Hop to fight a war against the Whiz-Bangs or the Furpleinians. Make up some names. The way I understand it, the Arums don’t really care
where
the war is or
who
they’re going to fight. All they’re interested in is getting paid.”

“I
knew
there was something wrong with this idea,” Althalus said triumphantly.

“Did I miss something?” Gher looked a little crestfallen.

“The unpleasant word ‘pay’ just cropped up, Gher. As soon as they start walking, I have to start paying.”

“But you’ll be paying for the time out there, and it’s shorter out there than it is here—or longer, maybe. If you start counting it all up, I think you’ll find out that you’re paying less. Besides, you said that when you went into that storeroom where you keep your gold, the light from your lantern wouldn’t even reach the walls. If the place is
that
big, you’ve got so much gold that it doesn’t even mean anything anymore.”

Althalus stared at the boy. The urgency that’d been in Ghend’s voice when he’d given Pekhal his orders had strongly suggested that he was afraid. Althalus had assumed that
he
was the one Ghend feared. Evidently that wasn’t quite true. This tousle-haired little boy who hadn’t even seen his tenth birthday yet was the one who
really
frightened Ghend.

That’s all right, Althie,
Emmy’s voice murmured inside his mind.
I still love you—even if you
have
just been outclassed.

“There are better warriors in Arum than Gweti’s clan, my Chief,” Khalor was saying to Albron a few hours later in the smooth-shaven Chief’s study, “but they’re the best when it comes to field fortifications.”

Albron nodded. “Gweti likes it that way,” he noted. “He adores stalemates, since he gets paid by the day instead of the job. His men are far more expert with shovels than they are with swords.”

Khalor nodded. “I don’t really like them very much, but in this situation, they’re exactly what I’m going to need. I
don’t
want somebody like Twengor. He’s too unpredictable for this kind of battle.”

“What’s your overall strategy, Sergeant?” Albron asked.

“I’m still working on some of the details, my Chief, but I’ve got a few surprises for Pekhal and Gelta up my sleeve.”

“Oh?”

“As it turns out, the Wekti aren’t
quite
as meek as we all thought they were. They’re quite militant when it comes to protecting their sheep. They use slings—and I’m not talking about some child’s toy. We came across one young fire eater who killed three of Pekhal’s mounted men when they attacked his herd.”

“With a
sling
?” Albron seemed startled.

“A rock right between the eyes kills a man—or a horse—even faster than a sword in the belly, my Chief. Gelta’s Ansus are cavalrymen, and that had me a little worried. My cares are all gone now, though. The Ansus may
start
their attack on horseback, but they’ll be on foot by the time they reach the trenches. Then the Ansus—who don’t know a thing about infantry tactics—are going to have to attack uphill on foot.”

“Very shrewd, Sergeant.”

“That’s only the start, my Chief. I’m going to put old Chief Delur’s clan somewhere close to the battlefield on the west side, and I know quite a few people down in Plakand. The Plakanders are even better horsemen than the Ansus, and I’ll hire a cavalry army down there. They’ll sweep up around the east side of Wekti. They’ve got a week, so they’ll be in place when the battle starts. I’ll let Pekhal’s Ansus wear themselves out trying to attack Gweti’s fortifications, and
then
I’ll signal Delur’s men and the Plakanders, and they’ll rush the Ansus from behind. I don’t think there’ll be very many survivors, my Chief.”

“Brilliant, Khalor! Brilliant!”

“I rather liked it myself, my Chief. I’d like to borrow your sister’s husband, Melgor, though. I’m going to be scampering around like a dog with his tail on fire setting everything in motion, and Chief Gweti encourages his men to take their time while they’re digging trenches. I think I’ll need somebody on that line to crack the whip over them every so often. Those earthworks absolutely
must
be in place before the week’s out—even it if means that poor pinch-faced Gweti has to get by with short pay.”

“I’ll take care of that, Sergeant,” Albron said, obviously trying to make it sound casual.

“You said what?”

“I think it’s time for me to get my feet wet, Khalor. I spend all my time here making business arrangements. You know, I’ve never actually taken part in a single one of the wars I’ve hired you out to fight since my father died. I’m tired of being nothing but a businessman. I want to be a real Arum.”

“You aren’t good enough, Albron,” Khalor told his Chief bluntly.

“I’m a quick learner, Khalor. Whether you like it or not, I
am
the Chief, and I
am
going to Wekti to crack the whip over Gweti’s ditchdiggers.”

Khalor winced. “Would you agree to taking Melgor along to advise you, my Chief—and to flex his muscles when some Gweti man starts to argue with you about how long it takes to throw a shovelful of dirt out of a trench?”

“I don’t really get along all that well with my sister’s husband, Khalor. I
am
a Chief, and I
do
know how to give orders. I’ll take care of the trenches, Sergeant.” Then he grinned almost boyishly. “I’m being just a little childish about this, aren’t I?”

“A little, yes. What brought this on, my Chief?”

“The excitement, Khalor. Despite all the hours I have to spend adding up columns of figures and counting stacks of pennies, I’m still an Arum, and when the horns blow, my blood starts to race. This might just be the most important war in the history of the world, and I’m
not
going to be left out.”

Khalor sighed. “No, my Chief,” he said in a resigned tone of voice, “I guess you won’t be at that.”

Eliar returned from Keiwon early the following morning. “Exarch Yeudon didn’t like it very much,” he reported. “I guess he thought that none of his shepherds were going to have to do any of the fighting. He really likes the idea of having other people do his work for him. Bheid changed his mind for him, though.”

“Oh?” Althalus asked.

“It was sort of along the lines of, ‘If you aren’t interested enough to do some of the fighting, the rest of us won’t bother either.’ Yeudon got the point almost immediately. Where do we go now?”

“Gweti’s hall. Let’s get his ditchdiggers to the Wekti border as soon as possible.” Althalus looked inquiringly at Dweia, who sat at the table idly leafing through the pages of the Book. “Was Gher at all close to being right when he was talking about the doors to Everywhen?” he asked her.

“More or less,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I’m going to need more time than I’ve really got. I like the notion of having all the clans of Arum roaming around in the halls of the House here, but it’s going to take quite a while to set it all up. If Eliar can take me through the door to last week to give me time enough to get the clans moving, everything’ll be in place before Pekhal and Gelta mount their attacks. I don’t like it when the hours start nipping at my tail feathers, though. When that happens, people start making mistakes.”

“We’ll take care of it, dear. Get Gweti’s men started, and then come back here. I’ll need to explain some things to Eliar. The doors to Everywhen are a bit different from the doors to Everywhere, and there’s a different procedure involved.”

“All right. Pick up one of those kegs of gold, Eliar, and let’s go to Gweti’s house.”

Eliar put his hand on the hilt of the Knife for a moment and frowned slightly. Then he nodded, almost as if someone—or something—had just spoken to him. “It’s just a ways down the hall from Chief Albron’s door,” he said. Then he took up one of the kegs and led Althalus and Khalor down the stairs.

“How long have you two been married, Althalus?” Khalor asked as they started down the hall.

“What?” Althalus asked.

“You and the lady who’s in charge of everything. You’re married, aren’t you?”

“Where did you get
that
idea?”

“You aren’t?” Khalor said incredulously. “You both
behave
as if you’re married.”

Althalus laughed. “I guess we do at that,” he conceded. “I’m sure we’ll get around to that eventually, but there are a few technicalities we’ll have to take care of first. Getting her family’s permission might be a little tricky.”

“This is the door,” Eliar said.

“What’s on the other side?” Althalus asked him.

“The big door that opens into the hall where Gweti calls his men in to get their orders.”

“You’d better let me do the talking, Althalus,” Khalor suggested. “I broke Gweti to harness at the conclave, so I know how hard I have to jerk his reins to point him in the right direction.”

“And you enjoy it, too, don’t you, Khalor?” Althalus suggested with a wicked grin.

“Tweaking Gweti’s nose
is
one of my favorite pastimes, Althalus,” Khalor chuckled.

Eliar led them through the door into a musty-smelling and very large hall where Chief Gweti was sitting hunched over a rough table, counting pennies.

“I’ve come for your men, Chief Gweti,” Sergeant Khalor announced brusquely.

Gweti quickly tried to hide the pennies on the table in front of him. “You surprised me, Sergeant,” he said. Then a look of sly cunning came over his pinched-in face. “I’m glad you stopped by,” he said then. “There’s something we overlooked during the negotiations at the conclave.”

“Oh? I thought we’d pretty much covered everything. It’s so much per day per man, right?”

“Oh, that part’s all right,” Gweti said quickly, “but we overlooked the rent on their weapons. Good swords and axes are expensive, Sergeant.”