As he had progressed, as his path had crossed those of the fanned-out columns of raiders, Bili had rendezvoused with almost all of his Morguhn nobles and the survivors of the original Morguhn troop of Freefighters who had marched into Vawn under his banner. The majority, he had been glad to see again—his brothers, Djaik and Gilbuht, Komees Hari, Freefighter lieutenants Krahndahl and Hohguhn—others he would have been as happy to not see. Or hear.
They were, by now, within a few days’ ride of their objective, the area wherein the High Lord had thought they should intercept the Witchmen and the booty train. Therefore, Bili had assembled most of the officers and nobles, that the High Lord’s instructions be detailed to all. Along the twisting length of a narrow, steep-sided vale, the Freefighters were laying watchfires, setting up picket lines and caring for their horses; after nearly a week of sunrise-to-sunset forced marches, they were reveling in the unaccustomed luxury of having natural light by which to set up camp.
A cursory glance at his subordinates showed all the Morguhn nobles present with the sole exception of Vahrohneeskos Ahndros. Then, from the summit of the small mound on which he stood, Bili recognized the baronet’s big gray gelding coming rapidly down the length of the vale. For all that the beast was already at full gallop, its rider could be seen to spur-rake the sweaty barrel, while lashing furiously with his crop.
Only good fortune prevented Ahndros’ steed from tramping the soldiers in his path. Even as Bili watched, grim-faced, the rocketing destrier’s shoulder took a Free-fighter in the back, sending him spinning to the rocky ground with a mighty clashing of scale armor.
At the periphery of the gathering, the gelding was savagely reined to a shuddering halt. Stiff-legged, the vahrohneeskos stalked through the throng, directly toward the thoheeks. His saturnine countenance bespoke ill-concealed rage, his dark eyes smoldered, his right hand continually clenched and unclenched and the knuckles of his left hand gleamed white on his swordhilt. Shouldering through the front rank, he came to a halt and stood, spraddle-legged, before his suzerain.
Although he had not been with the column twenty-four hours, Ahndros had already found occasion to be publicly insubordinate, first to Komees Hari, then to Bili. Even a half-blind dolt could have seen another such outburst here aborning, and Bili was more perceptive than most. His eyes like blue ice and his voice as cold, he broke off his conversation with a Freefighter captain to ask: “You have yet another complaint, baronet?” ‘ In tones every bit as glacial, the newcomer replied, “My title is ‘vahrohneeskos,’ my lord thoheeks. I am not one your precious unwashed burk-lords! And I want to know why your damned barbarian baggage master refused to issue my cook a few pounds of grain to make flour for my bread. And what right did the lowborn swine have to jettison three packloads of my personal baggage and drive the ponies away from the march route? Who, just who do you think you are, you immature jackanapes? How much more of your supercilious contumely do you think I and the other Kindred gentlemen are going to tolerate? Only my love for your mother has restrained me ere this, but it’s high time someone took you and your insufferable arrogance to task!”
Ahndros’s face, blood-dark when he first began, had now become pallid with rage, and a patch of froth quivered at his lips’ corners, while a tic twitched his cheek and eye.
Unmoving, grim-faced Bili heard out the enraged man. Those about the two perceptibly moved back, sensing an imminent combat. At Ahndros’s last word, Bili broke his silence, sneering.
“Don’t hide behind your supposed regard for one of my mothers, little man. If anyone’s arrogance has made him insufferable since first he joined the siege forces, it is you, Ahndros Theftehros of—Sun and Wind help us all—Morguhn. I have never fully understood why you joined us at all, since you found my judgment, the High Lord’s judgment, Aldora’s judgment, all wanting. I have never given you an order that you didn’t take exception to some part of, when you didn’t disregard it altogether.
“So little actual combat did you take part in, at Vawnpolis, that I’d have had adequate reason to question your courage—as did certain of your peers—did I not know better. You fought with and for me against heavy odds last year, took grievous wounds in my service, and I am grateful. Because of that gratitude, I have been more than lenient, more than tolerant of your flagrant improprieties. But, no more, sirrah!
“I am not yours to command, rather you are mine. I am your hereditary lord, Ehleen. Moreover, I am in command of this column. We are on campaign in the midst of hostile country and I cannot—dare not—tolerate anything, man, cat, horse or object, that impedes our progress or endangers us or sows dissension amongst us. Therefore, I’ll give you three choices: you can take the five servants you saw fit to bring, along with a small escort, and make your way back to your former posting, then lead them back to Vawnpolis; you can recognize your proper place and station and stay in it, physically and verbally; you can continue to comport yourself as previously and I’ll have you executed as the troublemaker you are.
“Make your choice, Ahndros Theftehros. Now!”
Ahndros’s full lips curled his scorn. “Even such a thing as you would not dare to slay me without a legal hearing before my peers of Morguhn. The High Lord would have your hairless head for such highhandedness, and you know it. Command your stinking barbarians, if you wish and can—you should be able to do that, anyway, since you’re a savage, unlettered burk-lord in all save name, yourself!—but we noblemen, Kindred and Ehleenee, are your puppets only so long as we allow you to pull our strings. I, for one, have no intention of slavishly following your stupid whims, of allowing you to further humiliate me and deny me my lawful rights, nor will I allow you to degrade me by chasing me out of camp.
“So, since I flatly refuse two of your magnanimous offers and since we both know that you dare not carry out the third and, since you seem averse to meeting me honorably, as a gentleman should …” He allowed his voice to trail away, smiling lazily. Ahndros was easily the second-best swordsman in either Morguhn or Vawn—only Djaik Morguhn possessed superior talent and skill with broadsword or saber—so he was absolutely sure of his ground. Either Bili—hated Bili—would rise to the bait and become a corpse or he would not and lose the respect of all and the command of the column, which latter Ahndros himself craved.
While an officer in the Confederation Army, Ahndros had been lover to Aldora and an honored favorite of the High Lord. Even after he had succeeded to his father’s title and lands and resigned his commission, he had been a person whom the High Lord contacted frequently, and he had been the only soul in all of Morguhn who had known that Milo would visit the duchy in the guise of a traveling bard. Consequently, it had come as an especially bitter pill to find, upon his recovery from wounds and joining of the army before Vawnpolis, that Thoheeks Bili had replaced him in both capacities.
Early on, he had found his relative lack of status unbearable and had tried to rewin his former place with both High Lord and High Lady. He had failed miserably. To Aldora, unashamedly in love with Bili, Ahndros was just one more in the scores of former bedmates she had had over the century and a half she had lived. Milo, for his part, had come to admire, respect and love Bili in his own way; Bili’s astounding mental abilities—not yet fully explored or completely understood—his natural leadership and aptitude for inspiring his followers, his quick and accurate assessments of situations and problems, his personal valor and cleanly habits and blunt candor, all had impressed the High Lord.
Deep within himself, Ahndros had been able to understand, for he too had had an instant liking for the stark young warrior who had ridden down from the north to assume his patrimonial duties. Moreover, there was the link of shared combat and dangers, for he and Bili and the High Lord had held a bridge for almost an hour against a horde of mounted rebels. In that springtime skirmish had he taken the wounds which for so long had invalided him. Lastly, he lusted after one of Bili’s mothers, the late Thoheeks Hwahruhn’s eldest widow.