“So, yes, Thoheeks Portos is almost certainly correct in his assumption that Thoheeks Hahkmukos bought his title and lands, paid for them in specie and by most dishonorable means. But, still, I wish that Portos would be careful to whom he tells this dirty little secret, for nothing must be allowed to stain the Council; our sway is not yet sufficiently secure to be able to assuredly weather any really big and open scandal, not yet.”
“To the best of my knowledge, Lord Grahvos,” Tomos assured him, “I am the only officer that Thoheeks Portos has seen fit to take into his confidence in this smelly matter.”
Grahvos nodded and growled, “Good andgood again, boy. Let it stay that way; a lot may be riding on it.
“Now, that matter aside, what of Thoheeks Hahkmukos’ complaint to me that you refused to allow him to take more than an absolute minimum of personal baggage and attendants with the army on the march?”
Tomos simply called for a horse, led the way to where the wagons, pack train and retinue still waited and said, “My lord Thoheeks, I but thought this a bit excessive, besides which, ox-drawn transport would slow the rate of march.”
“And that is what you told Hahkmukos, Tomos?” asked Grahvos in a tight voice.
“Yes, Lord Grahvos. I told him that he might add one common-size wagon to the force trains, plus, of course, the baggage for his own troops.”
“Sounds generous enough,” said Grahvos. “I’ve set off on campaign with far less, many’s the time. And if he wanted more servants, he could just mount them on mules. I don’t suppose you would object to that, eh? Of course not. Then I can’t say that I understand his flurry of objections on this part of the matter; he’s had fully enough experience with armies to know that speed and flexibility are quite often important factors and that military commanders must always have the final word regarding the sizes of their trains, consequently. The way he told the tale to me, you were denying him everything save a canvas fly, a blanket roll and a pisspot. I’ll go back and have a few words with him.”
The thoheeks first made to rein about, then turned back. “My boy, do you think you might be able to get Hahkmukos’ mounted force away from this train for a few hours on some pretext or other?”
“Easily, my lord,” said Tomos. “Thoheeks Portos had mentioned that were they to march with us, he wanted one of his officers to inspect them, their mounts, their weapons and their supplies.”
“Very good, very good, Tomos.” Grahvos smiled. “You see, I had not ere this been aware of just how much Hahkmukos had brought out of Karaleenos. There will shortly be a detachment of Council Guardsmen and some others from the citadel down here to offload those wagons and examine the ladings; they will have authority to seize anything that resembles loot from Karaleenos or property of Zastros’ army, the former to be returned to King Zenos and the latter to become property of our government, as it rightfully should be.”
“One thing, my lord,” said Tomos. “Hahkmukos made mention during my brief meeting with him that this”—he waved an arm along the lines of wagons and pack animals—“is but a part of his holdings, and that he would send for the rest when he is installed in his place.”
“Thank you, Tomos,” replied Grahvos gravely. “I’ll have that matter checked out, too. I’ve the idea that this thoheekseeahn will end being far more expensive than our Hahkmukos ever dreamed.”
The encampment was set up just out of easy engine range from the walls of Ahndropolis. Cavalry ranged out in patrols, but no attempt was made to interdict the city and no entrenchments were begun. None of this pleased Hahkmukos, thoheeks-to-be, but only his sour looks and a few petulant low-voiced whines announced the fact; he had learned on the march to keep a low profile and to do so in silence.
Thoheeks Grahvos, shivering despite the heavy fur-trimmed cloak wrapped about him, growled at the thoheeks -designate, “All right, damn you, we’re arrived and you’re still alive, so do you still harbor the asinine notion that everyone from Tomos Gonsalos on down is out to kill you? Not that that seems such a bad idea to me, here and now. I’m getting too old, too full of aches and pains, for winter warring or campaigning, and it’s only because of you that I’m here, you sad, sniveling specimen.”
As they stood there, the huge gates cracked enough to allow for the exit of three mounted and armored men, one of them bearing a headless lanceshaft to which had been attached a rippling banner of snowy-white silk.
“Hmm,” grunted Thoheeks Grahvos. “Our herald’s bringing back some company, it would seem. I mean to go and meet them. You may go where you wish . . . should you choose hell, let me know, I’ll help you gladly.” So saying, he mounted his mule and rode off, leaving only Hahkmukos and the servant who held the reins of the showy palfrey atop the low hillock.
By the time the slow but comfortably gaited mule arrived before the command pavilion, the herald and the visitors were already inside with the commanders and a strong guard stood all about the enclosure, but Thoheeks Grahvos was, of course, passed with alacrity and without question.
Waving over a guard officer, Grahvos ordered, “Should Thoheeks Hahkmukos arrive, let him in . . . but be certain to first disarm him, and search him, too, but courteously, mind you.”
“My lord Grahvos,” said Captain Thoheeks Portos gravely, “this is Komees Klaios Kelaios, who presently holds the city. He avers that he has sent no less than six messengers to Mehseepolis to bear messages to Council, but that none ever have returned, and ...”
Seating himself near a glowing brazier, his booted legs stretched out before him, Grahvos said, “Tell it again, Lord Komees, from the very beginning, please.”
While the city-lord talked, Grahvos studied him carefully. He saw a man of about average height and medium build, heavily scarred about the head, face and hands, scarred in ways that the warrior thoheeks had seen often before. His age could have been anywhere between thirty and forty years, but if the former, then he was prematurely aging, for he bore the lines and wrinkles of care and worry. Save for a severe limp, he bore himself well and expressed himself even better, clearly born and bred a gentleman of the old, Ehleen strain, akath’ahrohs, and no mistaking the fact.
Grahvos liked what he saw before him far better with every passing moment of time. Should Hahkmukos live to twice or three times his current years, he would never, could never be of the like of this one. He put the aging warrior much in mind of his own sons, all dead in the long-lasting disturbances which had rent and racked the lands during the two decades now past.
When, finally, Komees Klaios ceased to speak, Grahvos turned to Thoheeks Portos and asked baldly, “He told you the same story before I arrived, then?”
“Yes, my lord,” replied the officer. “It was the same tale, though the second recounting was in more depth and detail.”
Before he questioned the next officer, Captain Sub-chief Rahb Vawn, he told the city-lord, “Lord Komees, the officer with the unusual armor there is a Horseclansman from Kehnooryos Ehlahs. Like many of his ilk, he owns the proven ability to read minds.”
Then, of Captain Rahb, he asked, “Did helie, Captain?”
The short, slender, reddish-blond man shook his head. “Not once, Chief Grahvos; all that he told you and us before was the plain, simple truth. Were it all up to me, I’d take his oaths and march back to Mehseepolis, for his mind tells me that he would find it as hard tolie as that other one does to tell the truth. You asked, Lord Chief, I have answered.”