The King nodded—again very slowly. “Then thou dost think we may have transport enow.”
“Probably. And what we lack, I think shipwrights can turn out with around-the-clock shifts by the time we’ve gathered all the provisions we’ll need. No, transportation’s not the problem.”
“Indeed?” The King smiled weakly. “What is, then?”
“Fighting the beastmen on their home ground when they’re battling for their lives—and for their wives’ and children’s lives, too.”
Tuan stared at him for a moment. When he spoke his voice was a ghostly whisper. “Aye, ‘twill be a bloody business. And few of those who sail shall be wafted home.”
“If we make it a fight to the death,” Rod agreed.
“What else can it be?” Brom demanded, scowling.
“A coup d’etat.” Rod grinned. “According to Yorick and our other beastman-guests, this invasion is the result of a junta managing to seize power in Beastland.”
Tuan shrugged, irritated. “What aid is that, if these people have adhered to their new leader?” But as soon as he’d said it, his gaze turned thoughtful.
Rod nodded. “After a defeat like this, they’re not going to be very happy with the leadership of that shaman, Mughorck, and his Kobold-god. And from what Yorick said, I kinda got the feeling that they never really were screamingly enthusiastic about him anyway—they were just bamboozled into putting him into power in the panic of the moment. If we can make it clear right from the beginning that we’re fighting Mughorck, and not the beastmen as a whole—then maybe they’ll be willing to surrender.”
Tuan nodded slowly. “Thou dost speak eminent good sense, Lord Warlock. But how wilt thou convey to them this intention?”
“That,” Rod said, “is for Yorick to figure out.”
“Nothing to it, m’lord.” Yorick waved the problem away with one outsized ham-hand. “Oldest thing in the book—a nice little whispering-campaign.”
“Whispering-campaigns are that old?” Rod had a dizzying vision of 50,000 years of slander. “But how’ll you get it started?”
Yorick glanced at his fellows, then shrugged as he turned back to Rod. “No help for it—we’ll have to go in ahead of you and do it ourselves.” When Rod stared, appalled, Yorick grinned. “What were you thinking of—leaflets?”
“I was really thinking we might be able to do something with telepathy,” Rod sighed, “but none of our projectives know the language. Yorick’s right—he and his men have got to get the word started somehow. The question is—can we trust them?”
“Trust a man of the foe?” Catharine cried. “Nay, Lord Warlock, I would hope you would not!”
“But he’s really on our side,” Rod argued, “because he’s fighting the same enemy—the shaman, Mughorck.”
They sat in a small chamber—only forty feet square—of the royal castle in Runnymede. The Oriental carpet, tapestries on the walls, gleaming walnut furniture, graceful hourglass-shaped chairs, and silver wine goblets belied any urgency. But even though the fireplace was cold, the talk was heated.
“He doth say Mughorck is his enemy,” Catharine said scornfully. “Yet, might he not be an agent of just that fell monster?”
Rod spread his hands. “Why? For what purpose could Mughorck send an agent who couldn’t possibly be mistaken for a Gramarye native? Not to mention his handful of cronies who don’t even speak our language.”
“Why, for this very purpose, lad,” Brom O’Berin grunted, “that we might send them in to strengthen our attack, whereupon they could turn their coats, warn their fellows, and have a hedge of spears for our soldiers to confront when they land.”
“Okay,” Rod snorted, disgusted. “Farfetched, but possible, I’ll grant you. Still, it just doesn’t feel right.”
Catharine smiled wickedly. “I had thought ‘twas only ladies who would decide great matters by such feelings.”
“All right, so you’ve got a point now and then,” Rod growled. “But you know what I mean, Your Majesty—there’s some element of this whole situation that just doesn’t fit with the hypothesis that Yorick’s an enemy.”
Catharine opened her mouth to refute him, but Brom spoke first. “1 take thy meaning—and I’ll tell thee the element.”
Catharine turned to him in amazement, and Tuan looked up, suddenly interested again.
“ ‘Tis this,” Brom explained, “that he doth speak our language. Could he have learned it from Mughorck?”
“Possibly, if Mughorck’s an agent of the Eagle’s enemies,” Rod said slowly. “If the Eagle taught Yorick English, there’s no reason why Mughorck couldn’t have, too.”
“Still, I take thy meaning.” Tuan sat up straighter. “We know that Yorick doth hold the Eagle to be some manner of wizard; if we say that Mughorck is too, then we have pitted wizard ‘gainst wizard. Would not then their combat be with one another? Why should we think they care so greatly about us that they would combine against us?”
“Or that Mughorck would oust Eagle only to be able to use the beastmen ‘gainst us,” Brom rumbled. “Why could we be of such great moment to Mughorck?”
“Because,” Fess’s voice said behind Rod’s ear, “Gramarye has more functioning telepaths than all the rest of the Terran Sphere together; and the interstellar communication they can provide will in all probability be the single greatest factor in determining who shall rule the Terran peoples.”
And because the Eagle and Mughorck were probably both time-traveling agents from future power-blocs who knew how the current struggle was going to come out and were trying to change it here, Rod added mentally. Aloud, he just said sourly, “It’s nice to know this chamber has such thick walls that we don’t have to worry about eavesdroppers.”
“Wherefore?” Tuan frowned. “Is there reason to question the loyalty of any of our folk?”
“Uhhhhhh… no.” Rod had to improvise quickly, and surprisingly hit upon truth. “It’s just that I brought Yorick along, in case we decided we wanted to talk to him. He’s in the antechamber.”
Catharine looked up, horrified, and stepped quickly behind Tuan’s chair. The King, however, looked interested. “Then, by all means, let’s bring him in! Can we think of no questions to ask that might determine the truth or falsehood of this beastman’s words?”
Brom stomped over to the door, yanked it open, and rumbled a command. As he swaggered back Rod offered, “Just this. From Toby’s report, the beastmen’s village is very thoroughly settled and the fields around it are loaded with corn, very neatly cultivated. That settlement’s not brand-new, Tuan. If the Eagle had come here with conquest in mind, would he have taken a couple of years out to build up a colony?”
The young King nodded. “A point well-taken.” He turned as the beastman ambled in, and Catharine took a step back. “Welcome, captain of exiles!”
“The same to you, I’m sure.” Yorick grinned and touched his forelock.
Brom scowled ferociously, so Rod figured he’d better butt in. “Uh, we’ve just been talking, Yorick, about why Mughorck tried to assassinate the Eagle.”
“Oh, because Mughorck wanted to conquer you guys,” Yorick said, surprised. “He couldn’t even get it started with the Eagle in the way, preaching understanding and tolerance.”
The room was awfully quiet while Tuan, Brom, Catharine, and Rod exchanged frantic glances.
“I said something?” Yorick inquired.
“Only what we’d all just been saying.” Rod scratched behind his ear. “Always unnerving, finding out you guessed right.” He looked up at Yorick. “Why’d Mughorck want to conquer us?”
“Power-base,” Yorick explained. “Your planet’s going to be the hottest item in the coming power-struggle. Your descendants will come out on the side of democracy, so the Decentralized Democratic Tribunal will win. The only chance the losers will have is to come back in time and try to take over Gramarye. When Mughorck took over we realized he must’ve been working for one of the future losers… What’s the matter, milord?”