“Aye! Build up a small army!”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking on that scale…”
“Couldn’t manage an army.” Yorick shook his head. “Fifty men, though, I might be able to get—but that’s fifty, tops.” He glanced back at his colleagues, then up at Rod. “That’s all our hands together—right?”
“Right.” Rod fought down a grin. “But put ‘em in the right place, at the right time…”
“Aye, fifty men who know the lay of the land.” Tuan’s eyes kindled. “ ‘Twould be well done indeed, Master Beastman.”
“ ‘Yorick’ is good enough,” the Neanderthal said with a careless wave of his hand. “Fifty, I think I could get. Yeah. We could hide out in the jungle on the other side of the cliffs from the village. no more than fifty, though. Most of the men have wives and children. That makes a man cautious.”
Rod nodded toward the other Neanderthals. “How about your guys?”
Yorick shook his head. “All bachelors. We wondered why the Eagle didn’t choose any of the married men for his cadre—and I don’t mind telling you, some of the ladies were pretty upset about it.”
“Don’t worry—it was nothing compared to how they would’ve squawked the first time their husbands had to work late.” Rod thought of Gwen with a gush of gratitude. “So they thought Eagle was a misogynist?”
“No; he turned handsprings anytime anyone married. And if one of the Inner Circle got spliced, he was even happier. Kicked ‘em into the Outer Circle, of course—but he always said the guy was being promoted, to husbandry.”
“Odd way to look at it.” Rod mulled it over. “Maybe accurate, though…”
“It is a job, all by itself,” Yorick agreed. “But the lack of dependents sure came in handy when we had to leave town in a hurry.”
“Think the Eagle had that in mind all along?”
“I’m sure of it—now. So, we’ll get bachelors for this guerrilla force, for you—but what do you want us to do with them?”
“Thou must needs assault them from their rear, whilst we storm in from the ocean,” Tuan answered. “Then, mayhap, we can bring thine Eagle from his aerie.”
“Or wherever he’s hiding.” Yorick nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.”
“Then, it’s a deal.” Rod held out a hand—carefully, it must be admitted.
Yorick frowned at Rod’s hand for a moment. Then he grinned. “Oh, yeah! Now I remember!” He grabbed Rod’s hand in both of his and pumped it enthusiastically. “Allies, huh?”
“Allies,” Rod confirmed. “By the way, ally…”
“Anything, milord,” Yorick said expansively.
“Viking gear.”
“Huh?”
“Viking gear,” Rod said again. He was glad to see the phrase had meant absolutely nothing to the Neanderthal. “Your shaman’s raiders came decked out in Viking gear—you know, horned helmets, round shields…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know what Vikings were,” Yorick said in annoyance. “Dragon ships too?”
Rod nodded. “Any idea why?”
“Well, nothing very deep—but I’ll bet it scared hell out of the locals.”
Rod stared at him for a second.
“Makes sense, if you’re trying to adapt terrorism to a medieval culture,” Yorick explained.
“Too much sense,” Rod agreed. “Come on, let’s get back to Runnymede—we’ve got to start a military academy for you.”
The train headed northward with a squad of spearmen leading; then Rod and Tuan; then the Neanderthals, à la carte—or à la wagon, anyway, commandeered from the nearest farmer (the Neanderthals had never even thought of riding horses; eating, maybe… ); and well-surrounded by spearmen and archers. The soldiers and the beastmen eyed each other warily through the whole trip.
“I hope your wife doesn’t mind surprise guests,” Rod cautioned Tuan.
“I am certain she will be as hospitable as she ever is,” Tuan replied.
“That’s what I was afraid of…”
“Come, Lord Warlock! Certes, thou’lt not deny my gentle wife’s goodness!”
“Or your good wife’s gentleness,” Rod echoed. “We’ll just have to hope these cavemen know what a bed and a chair are.”
“I doubt not we’ll have to teach them the uses of many articles within our castle,” Tuan sighed, “save, perhaps, their captain Yorick. He doth seem to have acquired a great deal of knowledge ere this.”
“Oh, yeah! He’s a regular wise guy! But I’m not so much worried about what he’s learned, as who he learned it from.”
Tuan glanced at him keenly. “Dost thou speak of the Eagle?”
“I dost,” Rod confirmed. “That’d you get out of our little cross-examination?‘’
“I was cross that we had so little opportunity to examine. The fellow hath a deliberate knack for turning any question to the answer he doth wish to give.”
“Nicely put,” Rod said judiciously. It was also unusually perceptive, for Tuan. “But I think I did figure out a few items he didn’t mean to tell us. What did you hear between his bursts?”
Tuan shrugged. “I did learn that the Eagle is a wizard.”
“Yeah, that was pretty obvious—only I’d say he was my kind of wizard. He does his magic by science, not by, uh, talent.”
Tuan frowned, concerned. “How much of this ‘science’ hath he taught to Yorick?”
“None. He couldn’t have; it depends on mathematics. The basic concepts, maybe—but that’s not enough to really do anything with. He has taught Yorick some history, though, or the big lug wouldn’t’ve known what the Vikings were. Which makes me nervous—what else did the Eagle teach Yorick, and the rest of his people, for that matter?”
Tuan waved away the issue. “I shall not concern myself with such matters, Lord Warlock. These beastmen, after all, cannot have sufficient intelligence to trouble us—not these five alone—when they cannot truly learn our language.”
“I… wouldn’t… quite… say… that…” Rod took a deep breath. “I will admit that not being able to encode and analyze does limit their ability to solve problems. But they’ve got as much gray matter between their ears as you and I do.”
Tuan turned to him, frowning. “Canst thou truly believe that they may be as intelligent as thyself or myself?”
“I truly can—though I have to admit, it’s probably a very strange sort of intelligence.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the group of Neanderthals. The spearmen surrounding them happened to lean toward the outside at that moment, affording Rod a glimpse of Yorick’s face. He turned back to the front. “Very strange.”
Gwen snuggled up to him afterward and murmured, “Thou hast not been away so long as that, my lord.”
“So now I need a reason?” Rod gave her an arch look.
“No more than thou ever hast,” she purred, burrowing her head into the hollow between his shoulder and his jaw.
Suddenly Rod stiffened. “Whazzat?”
“Hm?” Gwen lifted her head, listening for a moment. Then she smiled up at him. “ ‘Twas naught but a tree branch creaking without, my lord.”
“Oh.” Rod relaxed. “Thought it was the baby… You sure he’s snug in his crib?”
“Who may say, with an infant warlock?” Gwen sighed. “He may in truth be here—yet he might as easily be a thousand miles distant.” She was still for a moment, as though she were listening again; then she relaxed with a smile. “Nay, I hear his dream. He is in his crib indeed, my lord.”
“And he won’t float out, with that lid on it.” Rod smiled. “Who would ever have thought I’d have a lighter-than-air son?”
“Dost thou disclaim thine own relative?”
Rod rolled over. “That comment, my dear, deserves…” He jerked bolt-upright. “Feel that?”
“Nay,” she said petulantly, “though I wish to.”
“No, no! Not that! I meant that puff of wind.”