He looked expectantly at me and I nodded as if it all made sense. I was actually thinking that it didn't, but it still sounded less insane than all Europe exploding over the death of one Austrian nobleman.
Krobidirkin chuckled. “Thargians dislike being inconvenienced or worried by uncertainty. They had been trying to subvert the Narshian government for years, and this summer they ran out of patience. They invaded Narshland. The Joalians plot reprisal.” He sighed. “It will be bloody, I fear, and Zath will benefit greatly."
As you may guess, I was not very happy to hear this. “What has it got to do with me?"
He smiled cryptically. “The Joalians plan a lightning raid on Tharg itself, while the Thargian army is absent—that is exceedingly brave of them! To reach Thargvale, they must cross both Nagvale and Lemodvale. Lemodia is part of Thargdom, but we belong to Joal. Our queen is a Joalian puppet. Their vanguard is already here, in Nag, demanding her help. She will muster her warriors as they demand."
I felt ill, and the more I thought about it, the more ill I got.
"I must give myself up!” I said. I probably didn't mean that, of course. It was just the first thing that came into my head.
Krobidirkin looked shocked. “Oh, no! That will not help at all! The war is inevitable now. No, I wish to ask a favor."
"Sir ... ask!” I owed him my life, remember. He had given me sanctuary, even if I had not realized it until then.
He nodded, well pleased. Numens usually get their own way.
"The summons will arrive soon. I knew you would be tempted to leave. This is not your cause, after all—or at least, you would not have thought it so, had I not invited you here and told you. The Joalians will require each village contingent to have a leader. Nagians prefer to debate and argue, but they do appoint leaders in time of war. In this case they will have to. There is no question whom the Sonalby contingent will choose."
I could not argue with that, because I knew they reacted to my stranger's charisma no matter how much I tried to hide it. “I know little of war, especially this sort of war."
"It is not necessary that you do. The Joalian generals will provide all the skill needed to spill all the blood possible. And I think you would have been my boys’ choice even had you not been a stranger.” That was just flattery, of course.
"What do you want of me?” I asked gloomily.
"Stay and lead them, D'ward! With you at their head, they will not suffer quite so much. More of them will return to their homeland. Believe me, this is so. You will ease the suffering and reduce the deaths. I fear for my people if their young men are dragged into this without your guidance."
What could I say to that?
I hedged at first. “I was hoping to find the Service and enlist their help in going Home."
He scowled and tugged at his droopy mustache. “Beware the Service, D'ward! They will betray you—it is foretold."
Everyone seemed to have read that damnable Filoby Testament but me! In the end I agreed to accept the leadership of the warriors. One cannot easily refuse a numen, and he had obviously kept my presence in Nagland a secret from Zath. He had probably taken quite a risk doing that. Although he did not labor the point, I knew I was in his debt.
"Your presence honors my humble tent,” he said then. “I would be happy to keep you here and talk. I should have invited you before, but it is not safe for either of us. Zath suspects me, and he is far stronger than any of us."
It was dismissal. We rose. He offered to give me the picture. I was sorely tempted, but I had no pockets. Reluctantly I declined it, and promised that one day I would come back, after the war. He showed me to the door. The priests were still at their work, and they did not see me return to my place.
That was the third time I had met a god. He was a true father to his people, the most impressive of the three by far. And he had been one of Attila's Huns! In my innocence, I thought that very wonderful.
Much of what he had told me was true, actually. I later confirmed that the guv'nor did make a flying visit to Nextdoor in August of ninety-nine, and he did go to Nagland. The picture may well have been what Krobidirkin said it was, although he could just have pulled all the images out of my memories as easily as out of the guv'nor's. What the Herder was really doing was playing the Great Game. By enlisting the Liberator in the war, he had made a very cunning move—from his point of view, at least.
14
SMEDLEY AWOKE WITH A START. THAT TIME HE HAD REALLY BEEN asleep. The car was doing its coughing and stuttering again. He peered out the window and saw buildings, darkened shops. The blackened street-lights threw tiny puddles of brightness; here and there another vehicle showed or a chink of window high up.
"Where are we?"
"Greenwich,” Alice said.
London! They must be safe now!
The car choked, slowed, and then picked up again.
"Does anyone know anything about the workings of these infernal contraptions?” Ginger demanded.
Alice and Exeter said, “No,” simultaneously.
"A little,” Smedley said. “Have we any tools on board?"
"No,” said Ginger.
"Is it short of petrol?"
"No."
That settled that, then. Nothing to be done.
London never slept, but it was pretty drowsy out in the suburbs at this time in the morning. There were no traffic policemen at the intersections, but usually Ginger had the right-of-way. He was driving quite slowly. The old boy must be completely exhausted.
Smedley's leg throbbed. So did his missing hand. Perhaps in time he would discover that this was a sign of rain or thunder or something.
Exeter had refused to talk any more, claiming he was hoarse. He had demanded to know more about the war, about what this Lawrence character was up to in Palestine, about zeppelins and poison gas, and what sort of allies the Italians and Japanese were. Alice had talked for a while. Smedley had stayed out of it, and started nodding off.
"Somebody talk!” Ginger said. “I'm getting sleepy."
Smedley roused himself. “So that's what you've been doing these last three years? Fighting with spears?"
Exeter sighed. “Not all of it, no. But some. I knew there had been an out-of-valley campaign about twenty years ago. As soon as we left Krobi-dirkin's temple, I went off to talk to the fathers at their clubhouse. The whites, we called them, because Visek's—doesn't matter. That evening I brought a couple of them to the barracks and got them to tell us about it. I said I'd had an inspiration in the temple. Everyone assumed it was a message from the god, which was perfectly true.
"They told us how the Joalians had made them march in rows, and I suggested we practice that. There was a lot of grumbling, but I could always get my way when I wanted, being a stranger. A couple of days later the queen's envoy arrived in Sonalby. He went to the senior warriors and eventually they summoned us. We marched up in a phalanx and their eyes just about popped out of their heads."
Alice chuckled, although it sounded forced. “So you were elected general?"
"Of course. My group all voted for me, and we outnumbered the seniors. Half of them were married and didn't count—married men stay home as defensive reserves. We roped in a few of the big ones from the cadet class. In a day or two we set off for Nag, about a hundred of us."
The car coughed, coughed, coughed. It faded to a stop, then suddenly lurched forward. Everyone breathed again.