Nedurian sat in stunned silence, his brows rising higher and higher as the fight wore on unrelenting all through what was meant to be a dinner of consolidation and organization. He exchanged a look of amazement with Dassem at his side.
‘No, I will not be the commander of this military,’ Tocaras emphasized for the twentieth time.
‘Then who?’ Surly pushed once more. ‘Give me a name.’
‘Amaron,’ Urko supplied.
Surly looked to the ceiling. ‘He is not available for that.’
Urko jabbed a finger. ‘Aha! So he is still alive!’
Surly’s already sour expression deepened even further.
Nedurian noted that so far no one had offered the position to Urko.
Surly’s impatient gaze shifted to Tayschrenn. ‘And what have you to report? How goes the organization of our vaunted mage cadre?’
The lean Kartoolian cleared his throat, leaning back. ‘Ah … well, the organization is that there’s no organization.’
Surly pressed her hands to the table – its wood much scarred and abused by centuries of fights, stabbings, feuds and murders. ‘Clarify,’ she fairly snarled.
‘We have agreed that there will be no encumbrance of a hierarchy, nor the awkward delaying hindrance of a chain of command. Each elected cadre mage will report directly to Kellanved, or any one of a very few chosen representatives.’
Nedurian couldn’t resist leaning to the Kartoolian and murmuring, ‘I like the positive light you cast that in …’
Tayschrenn shot him a glare.
‘And these “chosen representatives”?’ Surly enquired, brow arched. ‘They are …?’
The mage cleared his throat once more. ‘Ah. So far? Well … myself.’
‘I see. So, as command grade of one of our departments, you need a title.’
The young mage appeared rather taken aback by the suggestion. ‘Well,’ he managed, ‘I suppose so …’
Surly’s sour expression crooked upwards as she considered this. ‘You are the highest of the mages – so to speak. So, you are the High Mage.’
Tayschrenn lifted a brow. ‘Really? High Mage? You’re going to—’
Surly rapped her glass to the table. ‘Done.’
Tayschrenn pressed a hand to his head and slumped in his chair.
Nedurian elbowed him, murmuring, ‘Congratulations!’
The mage pinched his brow, his expression pained. ‘Gods please deliver me.’
Surly’s narrowed gaze now shifted to Choss. ‘You are the commander of our military then,’ she announced.
With his long history of working with the woman, burly Choss merely waved a raised finger. ‘No. Not me. I’m no commander.’ He pointed to Dassem. ‘The lads and lasses will follow this one, though.’
The swordsman, pale for a Dal Hon, shook his head. ‘No. I am a swordsman. Not a general. I do not have the training.’
Her voice tight with impatience, Surly observed, ‘No one here has the training or the experience.’
Into the following silence Urko leaned forward and said, ‘I nominate Cartheron.’
Cartheron Crust, Nedurian knew, was currently at sea, coordinating the raiding.
Surly pursed her lips, considering.
‘I second the proposal,’ Tocaras quickly put in.
Surly nodded, and banged her glass to the table. ‘Done. Cartheron is military commander.’
‘And his title?’ Urko asked, rubbing his hands together. ‘Lord High Commander of All Armies?’
Tocaras threw his hands out. ‘What armies?’
Urko appeared affronted. ‘Well – mine’s the Seventh.’
Surly pinched her brows again. ‘You can’t call your command the Seventh Army, Urko. We only have one.’
The huge fellow leaned back, crossing his thick arms. ‘Seven is my lucky number – so my command is the Seventh.’
Surly exchanged a significant look with Choss and Tocaras then waved her acceptance. ‘Fine. As you like.’
It occurred to Nedurian that Cartheron wasn’t here – and only Cartheron had any influence over his gigantic brother.
Surly looked to the veteran Dujek. ‘You have a command,’ she told him.
Dujek rubbed a hand over his thinning hair then pointed to Jack next to him. ‘This one has the officer training …’
Surly shook her head. ‘Cartheron has expressed his confidence in you. So, for now you’re in command.’
Dujek nodded. ‘My thanks … ah, what do I call you, if I may ask?’
The woman appeared genuinely surprised by the question. She waved it aside. ‘I prefer to work behind the scenes.’
‘She’s in charge of intelligence,’ Tocaras put in. ‘In command of the – what do they call themselves again?’
‘The Claws,’ Surly supplied, in a subdued voice.
‘Right. The Claws.’
‘So,’ Urko pressed. ‘Is there a title there?’
Surly eyed him for a long time without saying anything, until the big fellow cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘Just asking. But what about Cartheron? Could we make him, like, the Munificent and Splendid Lord High Inspector General? Because he’d really want that, I’m sure.’
Leaning forward, Nedurian dared to offer, tentatively, ‘In the Talian hegemony, the title would have been Sword of the Emperor.’
Surly studied him, and he felt himself shrinking under her evaluating gaze. ‘How go things with the battle mages?’ she asked.
Nedurian coughed to clear his throat. ‘Well. We now have as many middling talents, hedge-wizards, wind-callers and such as we want to assign to the ranks.’ He didn’t supply that this only happened after Agayla gave her tacit approval to his recruiting efforts.
‘Infallible Highest Lord of All High?’ Urko suggested.
Surly’s hard gaze swivelled back to the giant Crust brother. ‘We have Claws,’ she said meditatively. ‘Why not Fists? Fists for commanders rather than Swords. That would make Cartheron High Fist.’
Urko rubbed a paw across his chin, thinking, then he shrugged. ‘Not nearly as embarrassing as I’d hoped, but it’ll do.’
‘And the sea-lord?’ Choss asked.
‘I will ask Admiral Nok,’ Surly said. ‘I believe he will accept.’
Nedurian blew out a breath. Admiral Nok! Last great Napan sea commander. The man had scuttled his vessel in defiance of Tarel’s taking the throne and been in hiding all this time. Through her corps of messengers and intelligence agents – these Claws – Surly must be in communication with him.
The lean woman nodded at that, as if in conclusion. ‘That about covers it, I believe. Unless anyone has any other issues to raise?’ No one spoke. ‘Very good. Then this meeting is adjourned. I suggest we all have work to do.’ And she pushed back her chair, rising.
Everyone rose with her, bowing.
The Napans went their separate ways, but Dujek, together with his young aide Jack, lingered behind with Tayschrenn and Nedurian. The Kartoolian mage eyed Nedurian speculatively, then said, ‘You are a veteran of the military – are you as appalled by all this as I expect you must be?’
Nedurian blew out a breath, surprised by such frankness. In truth, he had been shocked by the chaos and disorganization. But in another way he was reassured, as he saw no blind dumb blowhard aristocrat striving to take control of things, as had been a problem in the later Talian hegemony. Surly was obviously brutally efficient, while Kellanved’s partner, this assassin Dancer, also struck him as no fool.
‘Everyone has to start somewhere,’ he offered diplomatically.
The High Mage’s answering smile was one of amusement – guarded amusement. ‘Indeed.’
‘And what about you?’ Dujek asked Nedurian. ‘No command?’
He waved a hand, demurring. ‘I’ve had my fill of that, thank you. I’ll help get things rolling, then I’ll take a position in some regiment or company.’
‘In my command, I hope,’ Dujek said, slapping his shoulder.