Lord Vendel Kryger watched the slave girl cut his breakfast sweetfruit into sections and remove the seed pith. He hadn't seen this one before; she was the loveliest yet. She caught his glance and smiled shyly.
Kryger's return smile was lupine; life had grown far more interesting since he'd had Werlingus transferred to quarters in the staff wing. Kryger'd never said anything to Gamaliiu, nor had the king said anything to him, but the train of girls could hardly be unintentional. Gamaliiu kept sending new ones—all small for droids, scarcely adolescent actually, but well schooled in pleasing. Kryger doubted there was anything like them in Almeon.
I'm going to have to break that pleasant habit, he told himself wryly, it won't do to have even a hint of this around when the fleet arrives. Maybe later, after the military administration's been here awhile.
There was, of course, a strong likelihood that he'd be called back to Almeon when the conquest was complete, unless he created a continuing place for himself here. There'd be no further need of an ambassador, and the emperor had said early on that Prince Kesler, his young half-brother, would rule here as his regent. Though the chance was that the indolent young man wouldn't come till everything was thoroughly secured and organized for him. Perhaps I can interest Kesler in assigning me as his deputy or his military aide, Kryger thought. I'll work on it.
He finished his custard and the girl served him his sweetfruit "Thank you, my dear," Kryger said, and patted her hand.
His manservant entered. "Lord Ambassador," he said, "a page has brought a message from His Majesty, King Gamaliiu. His Majesty wishes to see you at your early convenience."
Early, not earliest. That meant he could finish breakfast at reasonable leisure. "Tell the boy I'll be there in fifteen minutes, if it pleases His Majesty."
The man bowed. "Thank you, Lord Ambassador," he said, and left.
Kryger finished the fruit, took another drink of satta, smiled again at the maidservant, and went to the bathroom, then left for his meeting with the king.
Kryger's apartment was on the second floor of the guest wing. The large corridor down which he walked was richly carpeted, and its roof was glass—different panes in different colors, the morning sun slanting through in corresponding hues. The corridor walls were painted white, but the west was varicolored by the transmitted sunlight. Entering the main building, he walked down marble stairs into a corridor built on a grander scale, but having less light. The aesthetics there were richer, its polished wood, tapestries, and paintings lost to proper appreciation in the subdued illumination.
At the king's office, a doorman informed His Majesty that the ambassador had arrived. A guard in formal uniform, silver breastplate polished like glass, accompanied Kryger into the king's presence.
Kryger bowed. "Your Majesty requested my attendance," he said in Djezian.
Gamaliiu nodded without his usual smile. He was a handsome man, even more than most male droids, middle-aged, and for a man given to sensuality, looked reasonably fit. Kryger was aware that he drilled frequently with both sword and knife. "Yes," the king said. "A new situation has developed. It seems that unforeseen difficulties keep arising."
Kryger knew of two. A few weeks earlier, the intended landing of Royal regulars on the north coast of Hrumma had failed, reportedly when the troop-filled boats had been turned back at sea by an assault of sea serpents. It had caused an altogether irrational amount of upset. Since then there'd been civil unrest, including riots, by crowds who took it to mean that Hrum disapproved the invasion of Makklan.
All this had reflected on himself. It was he who'd suggested the waterborne invasion.
"Indeed! What this time?"
"About an hour ago a kiruu arrived with a message from Koziida Manteeros in the southeast. It seems a large force of barbarians has entered the duchy, killed or routed much of the ducal defense force there, and has the rest holed up in the ducal fortress."
Kryger frowned. "Is this a problem for you, Your Majesty? Or is it simply the duke's problem? I understand the barbarians do raid the borderlands from time to time."
"Ah, my good Vendel, but this is not the normal raiding party. Or even the unusual large party of one or two hundred. The report has it that this is a veritable army, with thousands of warriors. Allowing for exaggeration, that probably means at least two thousand."
"Ah! That is more of a problem." Kryger pretended to consider the matter. "I suppose the barbarians are besieging the fortress?"
"At this point it seems probable. They'd just invested it when the message was written, day before yesterday. But they could bypass it and continue moving east."
Kryger nodded. "It doesn't make much difference to my suggestion. Being wildmen, they probably plan to live off the land. I suggest you order the surrounding duchies to drive their livestock west, so the barbarians can't use it for their own provision. Meanwhile—Meanwhile they seem to be enough of a problem to be worth sending a brigade or two from here to meet them and run them home."
Gamaliiu didn't answer at once. He'd retired behind a frown, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "I'd been thinking of sending a pair of brigades from Makklan. Now that we've broken out of the isthmus, the situation there is less demanding. We're in a position to settle for the status quo there till we've chased the barbarians back to their wilderness."
Kryger nodded. "True. But it would give the Maklanni time to organize and improve their defenses. And if I recall your maps correctly, the Throne District is closer to Koziida Manteeros; troops from here could arrive there more quickly." He paused, then went on diffidently, watchfully. "Or is there—a danger here from Djez Seechul?"
Gamaliiu's eyes narrowed. "Do not test my temper, ambassador," he said quietly. "Or the limits of my friendship. A king of Djez Gorrbul does not fear Seechul."
Time for some confusion, Kryger thought. "True, Your Majesty. I did not doubt it for a moment. Forgive my imperfect use of your language; I sometimes fail to make myself clear.
"My point was that the vark might raid an unguarded border farm. But I get vark and kienno confused, the one deriving from the other. The king of Seechul is kienno, not vark, and your border districts are hardly unguarded. Removing one brigade here will leave three others, and anyway the barbarians seem to have more vark in them than the Sechuuli do. Meanwhile, by sending a force from here, you won't have to compromise your invasion of Makklan."
Gamaliiu's expression had gone blank. Kryger went on.
"Of course, my comments are always tentative. As yet, I don't know your continent and kingdom well enough to speak with full assurance on such matters."
He bowed then and stood waiting.
Again Gamaliiu retired behind a thoughtful frown. "You are somewhat right in this, nonetheless," he said. "I will send a brigade from the Throne District. The forces of the Vaski River dukes are enough to give Seechul pause. Certainly with a weakling like Labdallu on the throne there."
Kryger's nod was half a bow, and he waited a moment before speaking again, as if to be sure the king was through. Then he asked, "Which has the most formidable army, Seechul or Makklan?"
"Seechul, easily. Their numbers are much greater. The problem in Makklan is the difficult terrain. And the archery."
Kryger nodded. "I may have a solution to Seechul's army that will interest you," he said. "A weapon. A weapon much more difficult to make than cannons. It will take a lot longer to produce than cannons did, and you'd need far more of them, but I suspect your artificers can be taught to make them."
Gamaliiu's brows raised. "New weapon? What sort of new weapon?"
"We call it a rifle. It's like a very small cannon, small enough that a single soldier can carry one. It is accurate at longer ranges than a bow, and its projectiles will pass through shields almost as if they were cloth. I'd think that in a year or two you could have at least enough for a battalion. And a battalion of riflemen might well drive a full division from the field, I would think."
Gamaliiu's eyes were bright. "Draw me a picture of one of these 'rifles.' They sound very interesting!"
"Certainly, Your Majesty. If I may have paper and pencil . . ."
The king turned to his scribe. "Gossi, give the ambassador paper and pencil."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Rifles, Kryger thought. Before long you'll have thousands of rifles in Djez Gorrbul. Tens of thousands. Each in the hands of an Almaeic soldier. "Thank you, Gossi," he said, taking the drawing materials handed him, and began to draw. Meanwhile this one on paper will soothe your temper.