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Sixty-Two

 . . . Each nation on this world and no doubt elsewhere has constraints on its logic and on its willingness to contemplate or at least to act. These constraints can be rooted in painful national experience, and can explain otherwise perplexing failures. (They can also be an opening point in an analysis of cultural realities, something I may undertake in a future volume.)

Djez Gorrbul is a much more populous and powerful nation than Hrumma, and many of her kings have harbored the ambition to rule Hrumma. On a number of occasions, Gorrbul has invaded up the narrow and difficult isthmus which connects the two nations, only to be driven back with severe losses. It would seem that a seaborne invasion, or perhaps better yet a supplemental invasion by sea, would make more sense. Why did Gorrbul so long avoid this? The explanation seems to be as follows.

For very good geographical and economic reasons, Hrumma has a strong seafaring tradition, with many skilled mariners. In fact, Hrumma's seafaring tradition is older than her written history. By contrast, and also for good geographical and economic reasons, Djez Gorrbul has no strong seafaring tradition, and few of her vessels are larger than fishing boats. In fact, Gorrbul even imports some of its fish consumption from Hrumma.

However, about eighteen hundred years ago, a Gorrbian King, Grazonnu XIV, having been rebuffed in an attempted invasion up the Isthmus of Kammenak, decided to build a navy and conquer Hrumma by sea. Thus he built a large fleet, which en route to attack the then Hrummean capital of Serrnamo, met with a sudden storm that scattered the Gorrbian ships. Many were never seen again. Others were driven aground or ashore where they were broken up by the waves, and some found their way home. A few reached shelter in two of the Hrummean firths, great inlets, where the ships were taken as booty and their crews and soldiers sent back on foot to Djez Gorrbul.

The deity of both the Djezes and Hrumma is believed to be foremost a sea god, and on the basis of the above experience, the kings of Djez Gorrbul took the long-unexamined position that at sea, Hrum favors the seafaring Hrumma over the lubberly Djezes. It was as if to invade Hrumma by sea was to invite the wrath of Hrum. It was more than three hundred years after the loss of their fleet before a Gorrbian king invaded Hrumma again even by land. And in their rather numerous invasions since then, they had always restricted their campaigns to land . . ..

From: Memoirs of Midshipman Erlin Werlingus

* * *

Ambassador Lord Vendel Kryger stood five feet tall, a bit less than average for an adult male Almite, and weighed less than a hundred pounds. Riding a small kaabor beside King Gamaliiu, he looked like a child, a balding preadolescent with a middle-aged face. Marshal Formaalu rode on the king's other side, and Midshipman Werlingus on Kryger's left. Two mounted squads of royal guards flanked them while another rode behind.

The weather had changed overnight. The humidity was lower and the midday breeze cool, with a flavor of coming autumn. The visitors had arrived the evening before, when it was too dark to see much. The country around Haipoor l'Djezzer was tiresomely flat, and it felt good to Kryger to view what the king had called mountains, though by Almaeic standards they were no more than high rugged hills.

Formaalu had updated them on the military situation, then given them a tour of the base before they'd ridden out of camp. Kryger had not been surprised at the order and discipline here. He'd recognized early that in some respects Djez Gorrbul was not greatly inferior to Almeon. Which made it even more attractive as a future imperial possession.

More interesting than the base had been the report on the war. Even though much they'd been told, they'd already known, for numerous kiruu carried miniature dispatches to the capital while an efficient system of mounted couriers rode a tight schedule. So he'd known that Gorrbian casualties had been heavy, particularly on the first day and on the day the dams were opened. And that the Maklanni (the Gorballis called Hrumma Makklan, "Hill Land," and its people Maklanni, both terms having a derogatory connotation) had a new weapon that looked like a stone and exploded when it hit. Usually. Some malfunctioned.

"Grenades. That has to be Brokols' work," Kryger had said to Werlingus when they'd first heard of it. "And Brokols is obviously responsible for spiking the howitzers. He's been more effective than I'd ever have thought."

As they rode, the king had been mentally reviewing their briefing. "How far did you say my army's advanced?" he asked the marshal.

"About twenty-five miles, Your Majesty. We're moving fairly rapidly now, but the Maklanni do a good job of bleeding us as we go. The isthmus is so damned narrow, our advantage in numbers won't really tell until we're clear of it. That's why I'm holding so many troops here at base camp: I can't really use them yet. I might as well not even have cavalry, as little good as they've been to me so far. But as soon as we break out of the isthmus, it'll be a different story."

Right, thought Kryger. "Your Majesty," he said, "it seems to me that this might be the time to set in motion—what we've prepared."

Gamaliiu smiled broadly. "Exactly what I was thinking. It should take some pressure off Marshal Formaalu's army, yet not leave our—other force susceptible to a major suppressive operation for too long."

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