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  "Big One-eye!" Blue-coated scimitar at her belt, Patience Nearly-Lodge Riley came to the fire's coals — small boots stomping through the snow — and tilted her hat's brim back from a face perfectly white, hair black as blindness. "I could send Webster to our Captain-General at their island. He would find him, if you have a message, or need his advice."

  "I don't have a message, don't need Sam's advice, and would appreciate your staying with the baggage train where you belong. Colonel Butler put you there, Lady, and you're to stay."

  "Only until fighting. I was promised to hover over a battle like Lady Weather, picking out this one or that one for best luck or bad."

  "Right.... Well, until that battle, please get your Boston butt back to baggage. We are responsible for you."

  "And I so appreciate your protection." The girl smiled up at him, her small, white right hand resting on her sword's pommel. "The Captain-General — he'll be coming soon to fight the battle?"

  "Can't be soon enough. Now, if you'll just get back where you belong. We have a night march — "

  "You haven't visited dear Portia-doctor at all, One-eye, not a single time in this hasty travel north. Don't you think she would like a visit from you?" Another smile with that.

  "Likely as much as I'm enjoying this one," Howell said. "Go back where you belong — or be tied and taken."

  Patience made a comic grimace of terror... paused… seemed to drift a little up into the air, then swept away, long coat flapping softly as she sailed over hillside drifts of moonlit snow, and left the snow unblemished.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Queen's Room of Conference, a high-ceilinged stone box, had been arranged for discomfort. This to encourage short conferences, and little in the way of comment or advice to her from anyone. No attempt had been made to cushion that fact, or the straight-back wooden chairs ranged around a circular too-wide table, so everyone had to call their conversation. No refreshments were provided.

  There was a small stove in a distant corner, with a small fire in it, and the thick, blurred glass of four arrow-slits down the room had been opened just enough for a steady, bitter little breeze to enter, and fans of powder snow.

  Introductions had been made. Sam had noticed few friendly glances.

  His chair had diagnosed his bad back at once, and was making it worse.

  Only the Queen, bundled in lynx and wolverine, with her ax-girl standing behind her, sat in comfort on a minor throne plumped with pillows. Her daughter sat to her right, then Brady, the chamberlain. Then Generals Parker, DeVane, Lenihan — and Bailey, just arrived, his greenwool uniform as food-stained as his chamber-robe had been.... Then Sam, at the foot, and on around to two admirals, Hopkins and Pearce, wearing storm-gray — both exactly the ocean whales Bailey had described, so Sam had had to be careful not to grin when introduced. Then, sitting side by side, though with careful space kept between them, Lords Sayre and Cooper. Cooper, almost elderly, and just returned to Island from up-river, sat tall, thin, and slightly bent in gray velvet and gray fur — looking, Sam thought, like a friendly grandfather, though perhaps a grandfather very close with money.

  The last person around the table, sitting to the Queen's left, was a moneyman, Harvey Sloan, treasurer, looking more of a tavern tough than a book-keeper.

  Each of these men had brought an officer or aide, and those — holding folios of fine paper, ink bottles, and steel-nib pens in narrow boxes — sat in more of the uncomfortable chairs, behind their principals and well back from the table. Margaret Mosten sat behind Sam, and Pedro Darry tended the cloakroom by the chamber entrance — though, since the room was near freezing, no coats or cloaks had been handed over.

  Harvey Sloan had just spoken for peace — for discussions toward it, at least, with payments of silver promised for the Khan's withdrawal.

  "Harvey," the Queen said, "the Khan Toghrul is not some nose-ringed savage down off the ice at Map-Illinois. We won't buy him with beads or banjars or silver pieces."

  "How does it harm us, Majesty, to try? He can only say no. And if he should say yes, we have bought a year or more to become stronger."

  "Harvey, for Jesus' sake use your head for more than a fucking abacus! He would say no, because he doesn't want us to have a year to grow stronger!"

  "Sloan," General DeVane. "Sloan, this is not a money matter."

  "Well, it will swiftly become so, General! Wars are fought with money as well as soldiers, and the financial affairs of the Kingdom remain uncertain, since I'm not allowed a central bank — which we sorely need to regulate the currency. Warm-times had one, I understand, and so should we! And also, land taxes have been in arrears four years running. So, how is this war to be paid for?"

  The chamberlain, Brady, called across the table, softly as he could and be heard, "We also still have a treasury surplus — or am I mistaken?"

  "If there's a time to spend," Sam said, speaking up, "it's when a knife is at your throat."

  "Oh, understood, milord." The treasurer smiled. "But perhaps in your... realm, barter still holds a place. In Middle Kingdom, it's cold cash, silver or gold."

  "And mostly in mine, as well." Sam smiled back. "Though sheep and stock are occasionally traded…. When our Charles Ketch posed the same question to me that you bring to the table, Treasurer, I told him what I now tell you: Spend the fucking money. And if more is needed later, the Emperor will provide it."

  "The Emperor?" General DeVane again. The general, slightly fat, was an amiable-looking man, except for his eyes. They were dead black as dug coal-rock. "Now why should Rosario e Vega send any treasure to your people, or ours?"

  "Because, General, once we win this war he will either send us gold and silver, if we need it, or we will go down to South Map-Mexico and ask again."

  Both admirals said, "Piracy!" speaking almost together, and seemed pleased with the notion.

  DeVane said nothing, only stared at Sam a moment, then nodded. Pedro had mentioned that the DeVanes of Baton Rouge still ate talking meat at festivals….

  "Well," Sloan said, "that may be, then. This is now."

  "Harvey," the Queen said, "shut up."

  As if a voice in his head had said, "Keep Harvey Sloan," Sam determined to do it, whenever that choice was his. A Charles Ketch, but tougher, slower to back off where income and outgo were concerned.

  "Monroe..." General Parker, uniformed in blue wool, was a strikingly handsome man, tall, with clear blue eyes and perfectly graying hair perfectly trimmed. "Monroe, I confess to some puzzlement why you, rather than Her Majesty, called this meeting, for which senior officers were threatened with arrest for non-attendance. I'm curious where you found the authority for that — and why now you're in council on matters concerning Middle Kingdom, particularly since no announcement has been made appointing you to command of anything."

  "I'll make that announcement, General." Princess Rachel spoke quietly, and did not look at Sam. "Lord Monroe and I have agreed on an engagement to marriage. Also, he has my mother's warrant to pursue this war as commander, whenever his own forces are involved."

  "Which," the Queen said, "will be in every important decision. If I thought, Parker, this occasionally annoying young man was a fool, he would already be on his way down-river with my foot up his ass."

  Sam saw Rachel begin to smile, then stop. She said, "Are matters now clear to you, General?"

  "Absolutely clear, Highness." He turned to Sam with a slight bow. "Milord."

  "Generals," Sam said, "Admirals and Lords, Chamberlain, Master Sloan — I'm well aware it can't be comfortable to have a stranger come up from the south and stick his nose into what was only your business. I do it for two reasons. First, what happens to Middle Kingdom in this war will determine what happens to North Map-Mexico. And second, I have found no one better qualified for the work. I am, if you'll permit me, not 'Extraordinary' in anything but battle. There, though no Toghrul Khan, I am very competent."

  "And better be." General Bailey shifted in his seat. "Joan, t
hese damn chairs..."

  "Want a cushion?" The Queen seemed concerned. "You being so old and frail."

  "I see you have cushions...."

  "Peter, I'm the Queen. Of course I have cushions. Now, do you have anything to contribute here beyond complaints about your backside?"

  "What I have to contribute, is congratulations to our young commander on the performance of his army, since he is apparently too modest to announce it. Word, likely from creek fishermen out of Map-El Dorado, was pigeoned from one of Her Majesty's ships off Greenville, and received here a little more than a glass-hour ago. It appears his man, Voss, has brought their cavalry divisions east to join North Mexico's army near Bossier City. That force is moving north as we speak, and will soon be within striking distance of the Khan's only lines of supply and reinforcement."

  "Good news," DeVane said, "if it's followed by more good news."

  "My army will be where it's supposed to be — and without delay," Sam said. "Losing St. Louis leaves us little time."

  "You have great confidence in your people." The smaller admiral, Hopkins, had lost the tip of his nose in some engagement.

  "I have the same, Admiral, that you must have in your veteran captains. But my army can only threaten from the south, until both the Fleet and East-bank army are on the ice below St. Louis.... Then, as the Kipchaks face a fresh force attacking in the north, across the river, so they will also face an advance severing their lines of supply in the south. The Khan will have to divide his army and fight both of us at once, unless he chooses an harassed retreat of almost a thousand Warm-time miles to West Map-Texas... likely never to return."

  "From your lips, to Weather's wind." General Lenihan frowned. "But the Fleet seems to me to be in question. East-bank army will move; Aiken already has skirmishers out on the ice. But no pigeon has mentioned ships of the line sailing up to meet him. And unless there are warships skating through those tumans with scorpions and pitch-throwers, the East-bank army will be swamped just as the West-bankers were."

  "It will be news to the army, I'm sure," Admiral Hopkins said, "that warships must be careened to fit with runners. This can be done by the crews, but cannot be done properly in less than a day."

  "If this had been planned... had been started earlier — "

  "Lenihan," — the larger admiral, Pearce, seemed to swell in his seat — "if the Fleet had been advised earlier, you would have seen ships rigged earlier. We can do only what we're told to do at the time. We hadn't expected West-bank army to lose St. Louis!"

  "And where were their reinforcements? Where was the fucking Fleet — down in the Gulf playing grab-ass with some row-boat pirates!"

  "Am I to take that as personal, Lenihan? As a personal remark?"

  "You are not, Admiral!" Sam had thought the Queen would interfere, then saw she was watching him, waiting. "There will be nothing personal in these discussions. We have no time for it. If any officer feels offended, he is free to come complain to me... then regret it."

  Silence.

  "Admirals, at least sixty warships are to be ice-rigged within the next five days, or there will be more energetic admirals

  commanding them.... And general officers will keep their

  mouths shut about Fleet matters — of which they are largely ignorant — and prepare to support Aiken's East-bank army with any and all personnel and supplies they require."

  "Sir, we do not commingle — "

  "I understand, Parker, that it hasn't been the custom to transfer troops and equipment from one bank army to the other, though it appears that General Lenihan has been making an attempt at coordination. Still, I know that complete separation of the bank armies has been the rule — and when we win this war, if Middle Kingdom is more comfortable with that situation, it may be reinstated. Now, however, it no longer holds."

  There was a little stir around the table. Muttering.

  "I will have any supply or maintenance officer, or officer commanding, who withholds troops or equipment or rations from any engaged unit of either bank army, court-martialed, convicted, and hanged.... To which end, from this meeting onward, the generals provost-marshal in both armies are united into one command — to be armored in red — under whichever officer is senior, to enforce this order without hesitation.... There will be no appeals from his judgment."

  There were soft scratching sounds back from the table as notes were made. "No. Absolutely not!" DeVane shoved his chair back and stood. "I won't — "

  "General," Sam said, speaking quietly, "I'd hate to lose you; I understand you're a fighting officer. But the Queen and I will have obedience. Unless you sit down, sir, you will command nothing in this war but a labor battalion."

  "Floating Jesus..." DeVane hesitated, then sat down.

  "Thank you, General, for yielding to necessity."

  "And what... necessity, Monroe, do you find for us?" Lords Sayre and Cooper both looked only politely interested.

  "Contribution of those goods and household fighting-men you and the other river lords can spare, short of ruin."

  "Plain speaking." Michael Cooper looked at Sam as pleasantly as an old uncle might. "I do wonder, though — your pardon, Majesty — I do wonder whether this apparent emergency might be being used to take our rights away, and leave us helpless before the future's crown."

  "Milord," Sam said, "I'm sure that any ruler, except Her Majesty, would find you too formidable to attempt any such thing."

  Lord Cooper smiled. "Nicely said. But why am I not comforted?"

  "Why, because you are alert to your interest, sir."

  "As I am, Monroe," Sayre said.

  "Yes — both alert to your interests, as all river lords will be. Which is why I have no doubt at all that the units of East-bank army — now concentrating above Girardeau — will receive drafts of five hundred men-at-arms from every major estate on the river. And have no doubt also that six hundred barrels of barley grain, six hundred crates of dug potatoes, and two hundred crates of iced chicken-birds or fish will be delivered immediately from each estate — or proof positive shown why that cannot be done.... The estate that withholds, will be fined in acres forfeit to the Crown — and those acres never returned."

  Silence.

  " — And this, milords, not punitive, but absolutely in your families' interests, since, should he win, the Khan will take care to destroy you and yours. Despite, by the way, any secret assurances his... emissaries… may have made to the contrary. Unlike Her Majesty, Toghrul will never allow the existence of any independence."

  "So," Sayre said, "you grant us this... benefit."

  "Yes, milord. And in addition — since the river lords are to be so generous — neither the Crown nor the armies, nor the Fleet, nor the people-Ordinary, will demand their heads for treason."

  "... Such favors," Lord Cooper said. "How will we ever repay them?"

  "I dread discovering that, sir," Sam said, to some amusement around the table. "And now, gentlemen, if Her Majesty and Princess Rachel will bear with us, we have the tedious professional questions of Warm-times' logistics — timing, transport, and supply." A stir of staff officers and aides, rustling paper turned to fresh pages. "Leaving aside my army, since supplies, remounts, and reserves should already be coming behind it, how can we get onto the river ice south of Lemay 'fustest with the mostest'?"

  Smiles at that around the table. No soldier, no sailor, but knew that fine Warm-time phrase.

  ... Three hours later, a stack of written orders in various scribbles — dire and demanding news to executive officers, supply officers, field commanders, ships' captains, civilian sutlers, shipyard owners, and the accomplished of many guilds — stood before the Queen.

  She put her hand on top of the stack, riffled through the pages with her thumb. "Well-enough. Not too much nonsense here." Then she stood, and everyone stood with her. "But drive your people, drive them, gentlemen — otherwise the Kipchaks will use this paper to wipe their asses."

  The Queen turned to go, but
the Princess stood waiting until Sam came to her and offered his arm.

  "... Thank you, Rachel."

  "For yielding," the Princess said, "to necessity?" And they followed the Queen and her ax-girl out of the Room of Conference.

  ... Lord Cooper walked back to the small stove, stood warming his hands as Sayre came to join him while their people were at the table, making certain of hand-copies.

  "Cold...."

  "Yes. She won't have this chamber heated."

  "And your opinion, Cooper?"

  "My opinion... My opinion is that we have no choice but to give our men and our goods, while giving is in fashion."

  "Obviously. I meant, your opinion."

  "Oh. Well, we certainly have a king in all but future's crowning. Then — unless he dies before — it will be... bend."

  "We're bending already," said Lord Sayre.

  * * *

  "I'm sick of walls."

  "Mother — "

  "Sick of them!" The Queen was examining short spears, two assags, peering close at the grain of their hickory shafts, flicking their gleaming heads' razor-edged steel to hear it ring.

  Martha, on orders, was packing leather duffels with warm woolens and boots, harsh furs... and, in a separate case, two light, nasaled pot-helms — one with gold fluting at its crown — and two long, heavy, chain-mail burnies, both very fine, custom-fitted, and with each of their thousands of tiny rivets welded, not simply hammered home.

  "Mother..." Princess Rachel, upset as Martha'd never seen her, reached out to touch the Queen's hand — and had hers impatiently batted away. "Mother, listen to me. You have men whose business is going to battles, and seeing, and reporting back. You are needed here, not up on the ice."

  "Oh, the boy-Monroe is busy enough, here. And Brady, pompous old fool."

  "You're going because you want to, Mother — and no thought to the Kingdom or anyone else!"

  "And you care for the Kingdom?"