The Redemption of Althalus (58 page)

“Not when the enemy spies are as good as they seem to be, my Lady,” Chief Albron disagreed. “Oh, my name’s Albron, by the way.”

“My manners seem to be slipping,” Khalor apologized. “This handsome young devil’s my Clan Chief, and he invited himself along to study war.”

“He hasn’t been in the way all that much,” Gebhel noted. “His ‘shrub from Hell’ was quite useful back in the trenches.”

“Why are they all wearing dresses, uncle?” Astarell asked curiously.

“I never got around to asking, child,” Kreuter replied blandly. “I’m sure they’ve got a reason for it. Why
do
you wear a dress, Khalor?”

Khalor’s eyes hardened. “Would you like to rephrase that question, Kreuter—while you still have your health?”

“They’re called kilts, Lady Astarell,” Chief Albron explained to the young lady. “Each clan has a different pattern woven into the kilts its members wear. That way we can immediately recognize friends on the battlefield.”

“It’s not really unattractive, Chief Albron,” she said, eying his bare legs. “Did you know that you have dimples on your knees?” she asked.

Chief Albron blushed, and Astarell broke out in peals of silvery laughter.

“Why don’t we get in out of the sun?” Althalus stepped in. “We’ve got some business to discuss, so let’s find someplace where we can sit down and be comfortable.”

“I’d like to help, Khalor,” Kreuter said after he and Althalus had settled accounts in a tent near the cave mouth. He hefted the bag of gold coins he’d just received. “The pay’s good, but I’ve got this little family problem I’ll have to clear up first. I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to track down my nephew, and I’ll need to deal with him before I can leave Astarell unprotected.”

“I can take care of myself, Uncle,” Astarell asserted. “I know how to use a knife, and if that stinking old lecher who bought me from my brother comes anywhere near me, I’ll carve out his tripe.”

“She’s a little tiger, isn’t she?” Dreigon said to Gebhel.

“Spirited,” Gebhel agreed.

“There
might
be a solution to the problem,” Chief Albron observed. “I know of a safe place where Lady Astarell can sit out the war in Treborea. There are other ladies there, so there won’t be any improprieties, and
nobody
can get past the defenses of
that
house.”

“We can’t take her
there,
my Chief!” Khalor protested.

“Why not? She’s a member of Chief Kreuter’s family, and we’re Kreuter’s allies. Her safety should be as much our concern as it is his.”

Khalor looked quickly at Althalus. “What do you think?”

“Maybe,” Althalus replied, “if we sort of neglect to mention it in advance.” Then he glanced quickly at Albron, whose attention seemed totally fixed on Astarell. “You know Albron better than I do,” he murmured softly to Khalor. “Am I reading him right? He seems quite taken with Kreuter’s niece.”

“I noticed that myself,” Khalor agreed. “We might want to encourage that. If I can get him married off, maybe he’ll settle down and quit pestering me while I’m working.”

“If I put it to Dweia in those terms, I might be able to float it past her. She’s got an abiding interest in arranging these things.”

“I think you’re going to get yourself yelled at, Althalus,” Khalor predicted.

Althalus shrugged. “It won’t be the first time.”

“Bheid kept blushing,” Gher reported when Althalus and Eliar returned to the House, “and sometimes his eyes almost popped out. Of course, he was just one, and there were three girl people—probably coming at him from three different directions all at the same time. I don’t think he sees the world the same as he used to.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Eliar said. “I know
I
don’t.” The young Arum frowned slightly. “Of course, I think I started changing quite a while back—along about the time when Andine started feeding me.”

“Brother Bheid had some opinions about women that needed to be changed,” Althalus noted. “Regardless of what his teachers may have told him, women
do
have minds. They don’t always work the way ours do, but they
are
there. I want the two of you to stay on your toes during supper. I’m going to try to float something past Emmy.”

“That Astarell business?” Eliar surmised.

“Exactly.”

“Who’s Astarell?” Gher asked.

“Kreuter’s niece,” Althalus replied. “She and Chief Albron are sort of interested in each other, and Sergeant Khalor
really
wants to get Albron married off. Albron wants us to bring Astarell here to the House—for reasons of safety, he says, but I’m sure it goes quite a bit further.”

“The boy-people and girl-people thing?” Gher asked, making a slight face.

“There’s quite a bit of that involved, yes, but there are some military reasons as well. We’re going to need Kreuter later on, I think, and he’s very worried about his niece. If she’s safe, he’ll be available; if she’s not, he won’t.”

“I don’t see any particular problem with it, pet,” Dweia agreed after Althalus had presented his case to her at the supper table.

“No arguments?” he asked in a surprised tone. “No hissing or fluffing out your tail? You’re taking a lot of the fun out of this, Em.”

“It
does
make sense, Althalus, and I can make sure that Kreuter’s niece doesn’t find out
too
many things about our House. I gather that Chief Albron will be coming here with her?”

“From what I saw, I don’t think you could get him more than ten feet away from her with a team of oxen, Emmy,” Eliar said. “He seems to have a real bad case of the boy-girl business.”

“That’s nice,” she purred.

“Do you suppose I might ask a favor, Dweia?” Bheid asked at that point.

“Have you been good today?”

“I’ve certainly tried—of course, it’s a bit hard
not
to be good with three ladies camped on my shoulder.” Then Bheid squinted thoughtfully at the ceiling. “As long as we’re opening certain doors here, I was wondering if we could bring that shepherd Salkan here. I’d like to have a long talk with that young fellow. I’m getting a sense of an enormous potential there, and I’d hate to see it go to waste. Taking care of sheep is all very nice, I suppose, but it hardly challenges Salkan very much.”

“Are we recruiting new priests, Brother Bheid?” Leitha asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“We get that hammered into us during our novitiate, Leitha,” he replied. “Searching out talent is one of our primary responsibilities.”

“And just
which
religion did you have in mind for that young man, Bheid?” Dweia asked archly.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, “but I don’t think we should let him get away.”

“All in all, it came together fairly well,” the silver-haired Dreigon summed up the following morning when the Generals gathered with Eliar and Althalus in a large tent near the cave mouth.

“Except that I had to abandon my trenches,” Gebhel said sourly.

“Quit complaining, Gebhel,” Khalor told him. “This mountain was even better than your trenches were.”

“My men wasted a lot of effort digging those trenches.”

“They got paid, didn’t they?”

“How long is it likely to take your Chief and my niece to reach that house, Khalor?” Kreuter asked.

“A week or so,” Khalor replied evasively. “I sent troops with them to make sure they get there safely, and I guarantee that your nephew won’t even be able to find the place.”

“Good. Now then, you’ve been hinting around the edges of another campaign. What’s afoot—and where?”

Khalor shrugged. “Things are heating up in Treborea again. That’s the war we were originally hired to work. The one we polished off here yesterday was sort of a sideshow. Let’s be honest, gentlemen. None of us took this one very seriously. There was a certain strategic connection, but that’s about all.”

“It’s all the same war, then?” Kreuter asked.

“The same enemy,” Khalor conceded, “at the top, anyway. The main troublemaker’s in Nekweros. I’d imagine that eventually we’ll have to go there and ask him to stop stirring things up.”

“And put ourselves out of work?” Gebhel snorted. “Don’t be silly, Khalor. Is the thing in Treborea a continuation of the argument between Kanthon and Osthos?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“You worked for the Kanthons last time, didn’t you, Khalor? Are we going back in on their side?”

“No, Gebhel. We’ve changed sides. The Arya of Osthos offered better pay,” Khalor replied.

“That’s good enough for me,” Kreuter said. “I work for the money, not for the entertainment. Is there likely to be anything unusual?”

“Probably not,” Khalor said. “Everything I’ve picked up so far has ‘conventional’ written all over it. One thing’s certain, I’m going to need more cavalry.”

“I can take care of that,” Kreuter assured him. “I’ll go back to Plakand and hire more men and horses.” He looked at Althalus. “I’ll need a few kegs of your gold, though,” he added.

Althalus shrugged. “I had a feeling that might crop up.”

“ ‘Money makes the mare go,’ ” Kreuter quoted.

“Wouldn’t she settle for oats?”

“She might, but I won’t.”

Khalor leaned back in his chair, squinting at the tent roof. “I haven’t looked at the situation in Treborea recently,” he told them, “but unless there are surprises, this one should be fairly standard. I’ve got access to some clans that aren’t quite so far away, so I’ll use those during the initial stages of the war. If you gentlemen start moving in the general direction of Osthos, you can join in farther on down the line. The treasury of Osthos is bulging, so there’ll be money enough for all of us. I’d imagine that things should be more or less stabilized by the time you arrive, and then you’ll be able to step in and tip the balance.”

“I think I could use those shepherds,” Dreigon said.

“Wait a minute,” Gebhel protested. “Those slingers are mine.”

“I thought you didn’t want to play this time,” Khalor said.

Gebhel shrugged. “I’ll be going that way anyway, and I’m fairly sure Gweti’s going to want to get involved.” Then he grinned. “Besides, if I get there late enough, I won’t have to sit out any long, boring sieges. I’ll come to your rescue, Khalor, so you can be grateful—and generous—after I pull your backside out of the fire.”

“How closely are you related to Chief Gweti, Gebhel?” Khalor asked suspiciously.

“We’re third cousins,” Gebhel admitted.

“I thought it might be something like that. Certain characteristics run in families.”

“Everybody likes money, Khalor. My family just likes it a little bit more, that’s all.”

“Obtaining Yeudon’s permission to take Salkan and his young boys out of Wekti might be just a bit difficult,” Bheid warned them.

“Permission my foot,” Gebhel snorted. “I’ll just offer them gold, and they’ll drop sheep herding like hot rock.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to offer them more.” Dreigon sighed.

“You wouldn’t!” Gebhel exclaimed.

“Watch me,” Dreigon said, grinning broadly.

It was late that afternoon when Eliar led Althalus and Bheid through the main door of the temple in Keiwon.

“What news from the war?” the white-robed priest in Exarch Yeudon’s waiting room asked eagerly.

“I guess you could say that we won,” Eliar told him.

“Praise Deiwos!” the white-robed priest exclaimed.

“I don’t think Deiwos had very much to do with it,” Eliar said. “We had a better army, that’s all.”

“Is Exarch Yeudon busy?” Bheid asked politely.

“Not when you come to call, Scopas Bheid,” the white-robed priest replied. “He’s left instructions that you’re to be admitted immediately. He’s been very concerned about the invasion.”

“I think he can stop worrying now,” Althalus murmured. “Would you mind letting him know that we’re here?”

“I’Il announce you at once.” The priest went to the door behind his table, opened it, and leaned into the Exarch’s study. “Scopas Bheid is here, your Eminence.”

“Show him in at once, Brother Akhas.” Yeudon’s voice cracked.

“Yes, your Eminence.” The priest opened the door wider and bowed to Bheid. “This way, Scopas Bheid.” His tone was respectful, almost fawning, and he no longer looked down his nose.

Bheid led his friends into Yeudon’s ornate study and bowed rather perfunctorily. “Good news, your Eminence,” he announced. “The invaders have been beaten back. The danger is past.”

“We are saved!” Yeudon exclaimed, his lined face breaking into a smile of gratitude.

“For the moment, anyway,” Althalus amended.

“You believe that the invaders may return?”

“With what? There aren’t that many of them left. Sergeant Khalor’s a very thorough sort of man. He didn’t just beat the Ansus. He ground them into dog meat. Still, it might not hurt to put some men along that frontier to keep an eye on things—just to be on the safe side.”

“Do you think Salkan and the other shepherds might be able to hold that frontier?” Yeudon asked.

“There’s a little problem with that, your Eminence,” Althalus said. “Our Generals were very impressed with your shepherds, so they’ve sort of appropriated them for a war that’s breaking out over in Treborea.”

“I forbid it!” Yeudon exclaimed, coming to his feet. “I will
not
have my children exposed to the heresies of the west. No Wekti can leave our motherland without my express permission.”

“Is your faith
that
insecure, your Eminence?” Bheid asked. “Are you so afraid of different ideas and beliefs that you feel you must chain your people to the walls?”

“Gentlemen,” Althalus stepped in, “let’s not get bogged down in theological debate here. We’re talking about business, pure and simple. We came here and saved your bacon, Exarch, and we’re taking Salkan and the shepherds as payment. Nothing’s free, Yeudon. When you get something, you have to pay for it. What’s happening in Treborea’s part of the same war we fought here, if that’s any comfort to you. Our ultimate enemy’s still Daeva, so Salkan’s shepherds are your contribution to the struggle between good and evil. Doesn’t that make you proud?”

Yeudon glowered at him. Then his eyes narrowed, and he looked at Bheid. “There’s something I don’t quite understand, Scopas Bheid,” he said. “Perhaps you could explain it to me.”