Cost Of TimeChapter 9: Rapid Travel free porn video

After dinner, Count Tellan spoke privately to those who were going east. "The man who commands the soldiers is Captain Andromus. He is a bit of a prig and very conceited. His sister is one of Lady Becky's foremost students and will be assuming many of her duties while she is gone. Lady Becky has a formidable weapon there, and, Lady Becky, you have my permission to use it. Moreover, both Lady Becky and Lady Noia will have letters from me, proclaiming that they aren't to be interfered with, that any problems are to be referred directly to the High King.

"You will be following the line of the new wire-that-talks. This is a secret of the High King -- the wire works to Kingstown reliably, to Zimapan about half the time. We think the wire cutting is not so much enemy action as the desire for all that lovely copper wire. We haven't tried to extend it to Tecpan or Xipototec. The signal mirrors work, although we expect them to be targeted eventually.

"We will deal with it. Already King Xyl's raiders have suffered losses -- and the Ruthani are sharpening their blades and going hunting. It won't be pleasant what happens out there in the desert.

"To me it is clear that King Xyl wants to have some small victories against us that he can claim. I have mentioned this to Pinyon and Manistewa and they tell me that those small victories will cost him very much more than they gain him!

"None of that need concern you. From Kingstown east, there are no problems with the talking wire and none with the steam puller roads. That doesn't mean you should let your guard down."

There were final goodbyes and Noia told the Count to add her particular thanks to Brigadier Markos and Lieutenant Gryllos when it was safe to do so.

Gryllos asked himself the question about the militia's terms of service, but there had been no one he could ask about it in person.

The meeting Brigadier Markos called was in a long room in the Council Building of Mogdai village.

Gryllos knew a little of the story of the village, but hadn't been prepared for the actuality. As they'd ridden into the village from the south, there was a tall bronze statue, many times higher than most men. An old man looked south, shading his eyes with one hand, a rifle held in his other hand.

From the base of the statue sixty-two normal-sized figures ran back in a double line towards the village, flanking the road. Those were the burial sites of the sixty-two men and women who had fallen at Mogdai when the God-King had attacked it at the start of the war. The front of each tomb was garnished with what was supposed to be a statue of the person who had died, each holding five sheaves of grain in their arms, symbolizing how many of their enemies they had killed. To make the numbers come out right, the village headman, who'd been named "Old Man," had sixteen sheaves at his feet.

As impressive as that was, on the other side of the village, facing north, was a life-sized statue of a young woman, a teenager. She was shorter than most, but she stood ready, a rifle in her hands, two pistols in her belt. The inscription was simple. "Tazi, girl of Mogdai village. Of the people, for the people."

Few statues had such a tortured heritage. Lady Judy had insisted on paying for it; so had Lord Tuck. Tanda Havra had threatened death to any who denied her the honor, and the High King had tried to solve the whole affair by paying for the statue by himself, but not even the High King got his wish.

The High King was a clever and wise man, as all men knew, and it was his solution that was finally adopted when the survivors of Mogdai village agreed. It was the men who had been sent north during the campaign who paid. Paying the money was supposed to extirpate the guilt of being sent away; it hadn't worked.

No one minded those men paying for a statue, but no one who stayed safe in the lands of the Lost Ruthani would ever forgive the men who had been found wanting. Everyone knew the villages had stayed as safe as they had not because of the assistance of those men, but in spite of it.

One of Count Tellan's officers disobeyed his orders, ignored common sense and launched four hundred men into the main Zarthani force that had come to attack Outpost. It took barely a finger-width to kill all those men, nearly doubling the casualties that Count Tellan took at Outpost in the entire war.

The Lost Ruthani who refused their duty had done the same, in the south. They had died where there had been no need, where they could have stayed in cover and killed their enemies with impunity. Lord Tuck ended up losing more soldiers of Count Tellan than he lost of the Ruthani, but that was because most of the Ruthani had been sent home. Nearly a hundred and fifty of the eleven hundred men who'd followed Lord Tuck into the field from Outpost were killed... but they helped kill nearly eighty thousand of their enemies. His Mexicotal soldiers had suffered several times more deaths than the Hostigi had, but instead of being angry, the Duke's subjects held him in reverential awe.

There were nearly a hundred officers and Ruthani leaders at the meeting. Count Tellan and Brigadier Markos stood at the head of the table as everyone found their places.

Count Tellan spoke first. "Two years ago some strangers came into our midst. Duke Tuck, Countess Judy are the ones most of you know. Queen Elspeth of Zarthan was one of them, as are Lady Lydia and Lady Becky. Lady Lydia is now in Tecpan, teaching music to the Mexicotal and helping the Countess with the Council of the city. Lady Becky has gone to the High King's University in Hostigos, after founding a similar school here.

"We greeted those five as warmly as men should. We made them welcome, we succored and protected them. The results are clear for all men to see.

"Each helped in their own way to defeat our enemies. Our arms triumphed in the end.

"Now, once again we face enemies. This time, one old enemy who has been transformed into something new. Brigadier Markos, if you would, explain."

The Count sat down and Markos stood.

"There is a new King in Tenosh. His name is Xyl, and he styles himself the King of the Olmecha. He has ended the pyramid sacrifices and destroyed the priesthood of the old gods. He says he is a king, not a god."

There was a gasp as the hundred watchers inhaled in stunned surprise.

"Xyl evidently conspired with some of the nobles and most of the senior military officers and overnight arrested the old God-King's daughter-in-law who had been acting as regent for her daughter. Practically overnight, the God-King's regime collapsed.

"You've all heard how many people live in the Heartlands of our enemies. They are numberless. The God-King maintained millions of soldiers to put down any conceivable revolt of slaves and serfs.

"The nobles accepted a woman over them as the best choice they had, even if it flew against all of their tradition. The daughter, they were told, would be married as soon as she was old enough, and her first son would be the new God-King."

Brigadier Markos chuckled. "Except the daughter was just four summers. It was going to be a while before a son was born to her, and then grew to an age where he could reign in his own right. It won't happen now. We've heard no word one way or the other, but they are likely dead.

"Before I go on, I'll speak about King Xyl. It turns out that I've fought him once before. He commanded the artillery for Captain-General Oaxhan at Three Hills. The first day he commanded the batteries that took the Sixth Mounted under fire. I commented to Captain Legios as they opened fire that it would be a fortunate thing if the man who commanded those guns died in our first salvo, because he appeared to be quite competent.

"Xyl was indeed competent; worse, he survived our bombardment.

"The next day Captain-General Harmakros and his army smashed Oaxhan's army. Oaxhan had envisaged a battle of movement and left most of his artillery in camp. Count Alkides proved once and for all that the proper place for artillery is not in camp."

Everyone laughed at the joke.

"Oaxhan was executed for his arrogance and stupidity; General Denethon assumed command. General Denethon is neither arrogant nor stupid. He ordered a few thousand men to hold against Harmakros' advance, a few thousand more to go south to skirmish against the High King.

"Xyl stayed with the northern force and fought a fierce artillery duel with General Count Alkides. There is no better artilleryman in the world than Count Alkides -- but Xyl fought him to a standstill, until Xyl ran out of fireseed. Then Xyl spiked his surviving guns and vanished into the confusion of the battle.

"Afterwards, Xyl went to Zimapan and later had to withdraw the first time when the High King advanced on the town, and the people rose against the God-King. After the High King went west to deal with Denethon, Xyl marched north -- after the truce had been signed. No one knows if he did so with the sanction of the God-King or not, but it seems odd that he could do such a thing without it. The God-King disavowed him, in any case. The High King counter-marched, and just before they would have met in battle, Xyl turned around and withdrew.

"Regardless of anything else, Xyl was the only one of the God-King's generals who had any reputation after the war. As soon as the prisoners began to be returned, the ones taken at Three Hills, the God-King made Xyl the head of the army.

"Xyl was very active in putting down unrest, helping to keep things from falling apart. There doesn't even seem to have been any burble after the God-King was killed."

"Count Tellan, back to you." The brigadier sat down.

Count Tellan stood up. "Plots are complicated things. It takes time to sound out possible adherents, and then to make sure all is in order before you strike. Combine that with what we perceive to have been the extreme fragility of the God-King's regime after the war, and it must have been very difficult.

"Still, we knew they were rounding up and sending us trouble makers, instead of executing them. At the time we weren't sure what that was about, but now Xyl is taking credit for saving those lives from the pyramids. It's probably even true.

"We now face a new king to the south. He is young, energetic, ambitious, and the thing Brigadier Markos was most concerned about: competent. We have to assume that all of his actions after Three Hills were designed to lead up to the situation today.

"It probably won't be possible for him to do more than harass us this year."

Gryllos was thinking hard about what he was hearing; hearing his name was unexpected. "Captain Gryllos."

He looked at the Count, mildly stunned. "Stand up, Captain."

Gryllos stood, unsure why he was being singled out.

"Captain, then Lieutenant, Gryllos, commands one of the remount posts, he had fifty men and twenty-five civilians under his command. You've all heard that raiders came against one of the Zarthani convoys.

"Gryllos abandoned his post."

There were rustles and stares; most of the men staring were confused. You don't normally get promoted for abandoning your post.

"Senior Lieutenant Gryllos avoided an ambush, and then rode over sixty of the King Xyl's Olmecha, killing them all without taking any casualties. The Olmecha commander was about as competent as my Captain Helmoth -- that is, abysmal. A few heartbeats later Gryllos and troopers of the Sixth Mounted destroyed the other sixty members of the convoy ambush. One of the Zarthani soldiers was wounded, none of ours were, and all of our enemies in the first group were destroyed.

"However, he faced two groups.

"In obedience to the orders I dictated to Lieutenant Gryllos, he stood his ground with the convoy. His orders were clear and explicit and on my head lays the responsibility for what followed. He lost a third of his men, dead or wounded. The Zarthani lost similarly. But the lieutenant and the Zarthani convoy commander held the convoy intact, denied the Olmecha a victory. Moreover, the Olmecha waited too long to break contact and most of those who survived the raid died, along with two of their ships. Perhaps seventy-five of them withdrew south, out of six hundred. I don't envy their commander trying to explain the defeat to his King. Assuming the commander survived.

"You may sit, Captain."

Gryllos dropped down onto his chair, trying not to be notice that all of the eyes at the table were directed at him. Counts and brigadiers don't have to explain their orders; not to you, not to anyone. That Count Tellan had done so meant that all would have to take the first part of the battle as Gryllos' victory and the last part, duty to his orders. That it was true was one thing, but usually such things were left unsaid.

"This is what we're going to face for the next year," Count Tellan said. "Raiders trying to slip through our patrols to attack weak points. Our patrols will have to be significantly more diligent and alert. We cannot afford to be weak anywhere. We cannot afford to be careless.

"Next year. I wish I could tell you more about what to expect next year. It's hard not to be pessimistic. If King Xyl pacifies the slaves and serfs, and it seems likely he will succeed, he'll be able to free up some of the ten million soldiers that garrison the Heartlands. Worse, we have word that he's allowing slaves and serfs to enlist in the army, with a promise of freedom if they serve six years plus four years in reserve.

"King Xyl has taken the heart of the grievances of the lower classes of his people and turned them upside down. Freedom -- not just freedom from sacrifice, but full freedom is a tremendous lure. And from our point of view, that lure is doubly dangerous because they will become soldiers in order to gain that freedom."

He paused and looked around the room. "The High King predicts that starting next year we're going to face attacks by one to three million soldiers each year. For at least three years and perhaps as many as five."

The room went deathly silent. "We have no certain knowledge of where the attacks will fall. Certainly the Duke of Mexico is going to face terrific raids and may likely draw the first major attack. King Freidal may experience raids and can expect an early attack. And we already know where they've raided first, don't we? It was the first, but is unlikely to be the last.

"South of us we're shielded to an extent by the Grand Marshal of the Army, Lord Harmakros. There is also the Duke of Mexico, Lord Tuck, and the Countess of Tecpan, Lady Judy. Those three are our shield. We will strengthen them as we can, but all the while we have to be aware of what happens if they fail.

"The same is true of Zarthan. They are our western shield, but King Xyl has continued the old God-King's building program for transports. We destroyed two a moon ago, but there are hundreds more.

"It will be up to you officers to instill courage in your troops. It will be up to you to lead them in battle as Gryllos has done, as Countess Judy, as Lord Tuck and the High King have. You must be clever; you must be flexible and inventive. It's quite clear that Gryllos' opponents never expected him to abandon his post. They attacked it, after all, assuming that our soldiers were still there. Just one more unpleasant surprise they experienced in that raid."

The Count held his hand up, one thumb pointed jauntily up. Everyone clapped and cheered.

That's for me, Gryllos thought, suddenly more sober than he'd ever been in his life. It was the exact opposite of having had too much to drink.

And then with the clarity that such things bring, he suddenly knew the High King's greatest fear, the fear that must sap Duke Tuck -- any of the great military leaders of any time. Failure would burst their bubble. One of the things that sustained them and their soldiers was victory over seemingly insane odds. And now it was his legacy, too. How did they keep from becoming paralytic with fear?

There was a bit more, and then it was time for lunch. It was scary, Gryllos thought, many of the young officers, lieutenants and captains both, came up to him, just to talk with the hero.

He'd never felt like a hero, and the third time someone praised him effusively, he held up his hand. "Understand something. My heroism consisted of coming up behind a band of men and seeing them fire an unanswered volley into our allies, the Zarthani. It didn't take much heroism to order my men to attack soldiers facing away from us, armed with unloaded weapons.

"Then we were among the Zarthani, stunned with our success. The Zarthani captain was no fool; he still had enemies to his north, and started pulling his men to that side to face an attack. The enemy commander obliged, his men fired a volley against men who were in cover, before attacking over open ground. The Zarthani, twice my numbers, fired, then we rode over the survivors. True, we faced them that time, but once again they had unloaded rifles."

Some of the officers looked confused, but then Brigadier Markos came forward. "No, it's not brave to attack an enemy who isn't ready to fight back. Steady soldiers, though, even if just a few, might have been able to reload in the time you gave them. Battles are hard things, Captain. Seeing an enemy make a mistake isn't an easy thing to do. Being in a position to take advantage of that mistake isn't easy either. Doing it twice in a finger-width..." He grinned broadly. "There's a reason we're heaping praise on you.

"Now, if you would, Captain, I'd like to see you and the following other officers after lunch at the statue of Tazi, north of the village." He ran down a list of a dozen names, and then was off to another clump of officers.

Gryllos escaped to a table piled high with food. Leem was there, a smile on his face.

"I don't know which is worse. Facing praise or facing the enemy," the Ruthani opined.

"Something like that," Gryllos admitted.

"My father, Gryllos, wasn't like most men. He was hard, as most Ruthani fathers are. But there was always a difference with him. Life, he told us, was a contest. One of the men who was sent north brought a message from him to my mother and to the rest of us. 'You must realize that you have to look at all things around you to see what it is that is truly there and what is truly not there. Nothing will kill you quicker than not seeing what's there. Nothing will frustrate you faster than seeing things that aren't truly there. Subterfuge is making people see things as they aren't. Be it something that wasn't there before, to something that was always there and you never saw before.

"'Do not kill those who come north from anger. Pity them, kill them as needs be, but let them surrender if you can do so safely.'"

"I am invited to a special demonstration in front of Lady Tazi after lunch," Leem told him. "Do you know anything about it?"

"Only that I, too, am invited."

"I am not my father; I don't seek wives like other men seek knives or weapons. Still, if the High King has a new way to kill our enemies to the south, I may marry it!"

Gryllos laughed. Leem might not be the marrying sort, but he was extremely popular among Ruthani women. His dangerous appearance seemed to excite them instead of the other way around.

Gryllos ate well, and then walked with Leem to the statue. Leem was like the other Ruthani present: he walked up to the statue and kissed her on her bronze lips.

"Why do you do that?" Gryllos asked when the Ruthani returned to the captain's side.

"It's a prayer," Leem said without embarrassment. "We all pray that we can be like her, so we can kill our enemies without fear. Many Ruthani died in the war, but none died braver. The Old Man of Mogdai and his followers and Tazi of Mogdai; they did their duty to their people."

Brigadier Markos appeared, walking with two sergeants, who were each carrying a life-sized straw dummy strapped to posts. The sergeants went about thirty paces beyond the statue and placed the dummies in what were clearly pre-dug holes, while the general gathered the rest around him.

They two sergeants returned and stood behind the brigadier without speaking.

"The High King, as you all know," Brigadier Markos told them, "is a man fond of weapons. This particular weapon is for close personal defense, as pistols are now. However, there is a difference. If you would, look at the dummies."

All eyes went to the targets; only at the last heartbeat did Gryllos realize that whatever happened to them was secondary to how it happened, so his eyes returned quickly to the general.

It was quick. Had he not thought to look at once, he'd have missed it. Brigadier Markos reached into a pistol holster and pulled out what looked like a very large pistol with two barrels.

Two sullen "booms" echoed over the desert. Gryllos' first thought was to laugh. No fireseed smoke! There was a little smoke, but not very much and the lightest breeze whisked it away.

There were gasps of surprise and at first Gryllos thought it was surprise at the shots. He looked at the dummies and gasped in surprise himself. "Blood" was leaking down the front of each dummy, leaking from a half dozen wounds in each, centered in their "chests."

"This is what the High King calls a shotgun," Brigadier Markos said into the silence that followed. He lofted something that was longer and heavier than a pistol, with twin barrels that looked larger than a pistol's.

"The shells use a slightly different version of the explosive dots that send mortar shells on their way, and cause them to explode when they land."

He looked around at the party he was speaking to. "The High King has many young, brave, aggressive and competent officers. He's not worried about competition though, assuming you aren't fond of the sort of headaches he has to deal with."

There were uneasy laughs at that.

"He is worried, though, about how many of his officers are killed in battles. A third of his lieutenants die in battle. One in ten captains die in battle. Lord Tuck buried a half dozen of the God-King's generals, as did the Grand Marshal. Perhaps a dozen fell to the High King himself.

"This weapon," he brandished it for all to see, "is designed to take the place of pistols. Some of you already have double-barrel pistols, but with those, you have two shots. As you can see from the dummies, while a shotgun shoots twice, it fires something like case shot, only smaller. Nine pellets, each the size of a woman's little finger's last joint. Smokeless fireseed, as well, which means it shoots relatively far. You can kill men out to a hundred paces, but if you do, you're relying on luck. At thirty paces though..." He waved at the targets.

"That speaks for itself. We have received enough of these to equip the Ruthani scouts and our officers."

One of the other officers, not Gryllos, was obviously excited. "Sir! If we equip all of our soldiers with these! Think what a shock a volley would be!"

The brigadier shook his head sadly and Gryllos already knew what was going to be said. He certainly hadn't started out his charge against the God-King's soldiers at pistol shot!

"If we could equip our soldiers with every weapon we have, which we can't, even so, this one wouldn't do. Do you really want to wait until your enemy is in pistol shot to open fire?"

The captain flushed and looked down. No, that wouldn't be good at all!

Brigadier Markos lifted the pistol-like thing, flipped a lever and spilled two glittering objects out onto the ground, slipped two more into the weapon, lifted it and fired again.

Even Gryllos gasped. Three heartbeats! Maybe two! You could fire it five or six times as fast as a pistol!

"Brigadier Markos," Gryllos said loudly, "speaking on behalf of myself and Sergeant Leem, Ruthani scout, I'd like to volunteer us to test those weapons."

There was a moment of silence, then rueful chuckles, and a few more offers of help "testing."

"Relax, gentlemen! I said we have enough for all of you. For the time being we're going to limit you to a hundred rounds each. I would suggest that if you are close enough to the enemy to fire off that many rounds, you're too close."

There was outright laughter at that.

Brigadier Markos shook his head. "No, seriously. I was talking not so long ago about this. I have never fired my personal weapons at enemies of the High King. After Three Hills, Captain Legios, then a messenger ensign, was adjusting to having been in battle, and I told him what I just told you. I saw Legios again a moon or so ago and he remembered what I'd said and told me that he still had yet to fire his own pistol.

"Your duty isn't to shoot the enemy. Your duty is to lead your soldiers in battle. Yes, sometimes something terrible happens and you're in the situation Countess Judy was, where the only weapon left to her was a shovel -- after she'd fired all of her ammunition, and broken her rifle after having broken her bayonet.

"But unless something like that happens, your duty is to command the soldiers you lead and tell them where and how to kill our enemies. They hold dead men in no great respect, but they hold officers who lead them to victory in very high regard indeed."

He smiled, although Gryllos thought it was a very wintry smile.

"You have a finger-width break, then report to the statue of Old Man, south of the village."

When Gryllos got there, two sergeants stood next to a mortar, set a short distance in front of the statues.

When everyone was assembled the older of the two sergeants stepped forward. "My name is Sergeant Hollar, most of the time I'm Captain Legios' batman." He lifted his hat, and all could see that a strip of hair was missing on his head, and a nasty scar in its place.

"Recently an Olmecha bullet parted my hair. I tried to pretend it didn't happen, but... well, let's just say, you never want to pretend that unless you must. You see, as we all know, the priests of Dralm amputate shattered parts."

There was a moment of silence and then a few embarrassed smiles. Amputate a head? Gross!

"Yes, obviously you understand then.

"Before you is a mortar. Once upon a time, mortars were a secret of the High King. We in the Heavy Weapons Company used them to good effect.

"In those days we fired two sorts of rounds. One that, mostly, exploded on contact with the ground, the second that started burning high in the air, and then drifts slowly down, providing light at night.

"Most units, even to company size in the High King's army, have now been equipped with mortars," the sergeant told them.

"Most of you probably use them for piss pots."

This time the silence was hostile.

The sergeant grinned. "Don't get me wrong; four times I've been in battles hot enough where the only safe way to fire our mortars was to piss on them first, but no, I'm talking about the fact that you don't train with them.

"Captain Gryllos?"

The sergeant looked around and Gryllos lifted his hand.

"Captain Gryllos, why are you alive today?"

For Gryllos, it was a kind of epiphany. How many times had he said the words? "The mortars broke the back of the attacks, three times." And what would have happened if those attacks hadn't been broken?

"Mortars, sergeant. We had four at the Wagon Box fight. My junior lieutenant used to be a miner, and further trained with you and your Captain Legios. Now, so long as he doesn't have to go underground to do it, he just loves to blow things up. He loves our mortars."

"And how many times did those mortars save the day? You only had four of them, right?"

"Yes, sergeant, just four mortars. Three times. They can be fired very fast and the explosions are deadly against small units concentrated to attack." Now he was repeating what he'd heard the first time he'd been briefed. Now... now he was appalled at how little he'd learned from his own personal lesson!

"And you faced how many Olmechan soldiers?"

"Three hundred to start with, we thought. Maybe three hundred and fifty."

"And you had half that?"

"A little more, sergeant. But we were pinned down, while they could range around our perimeter." He realized it then, something that hadn't impinged on him at the time.

"They didn't follow their usual tactics. There were no probes. They came on in big attacks."

"But you won anyway?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"And the mortars made the difference?"

"Yes, they don't like them. I know your Heavy Weapons Company scares them into flight, but you weren't there. Still, they seemed wary, more wary than usual. Between accurate fire from our riflemen and the mortars, they didn't press their attacks like they should have."

"There you have it, gentleman," the sergeant told the assembled officers.

"For some time, most of you have had integral mortars attached to your units and have either never fired them, or have fired them once or twice, not concerned about accuracy. That, sirs, is simply unacceptable."

"Sergeant, who are you to tell us what's acceptable?" a voice from the middle of the group spoke.