Mahvros of Lohfospolis looked half again as old as his actual age of thirty years, his darkly handsome face drawn with fatigue and the nervous strain of the last thirty-six hours, but his voice remained strong as he addressed this council of the highest-ranking noblemen left to his race.
“My lords, I spent most of this day past with High Lord Milo, King Zenos of Karaleenos, Lord Alexandros Pahpahs of the Sea Isles and the Thoheeks Djehfree of Kuhmbuhluhn . . . although Lord Milo seems to speak for all, most of the time.
“Lord Milo swears that no man or body of men marching or riding southwards from here, armed or unarmed, will be harmed or hindered, do they go in peace. Indeed, if they proceed along the main trade road, they can be certain of guides to show them to sources of unpolluted water and even small quantities of animal forage.
“Lord Milo emphasized that he wants none of our arms, equipment or supplies, none of our animals, none of our rolling stock, not even our tents. We are welcome to bear back anything that we brought north from out of our own lands. He demands only the surrender of the persons of the High King and Queen, them and any loot stripped from the lands of King Zenos.”
“Harrumph!” interjected Thoheeks Mahnos of Ehpohtispolis. “This Lord Milos is most welcome to that precious pair, say I. Good riddance to exceedingly bad rubbish!”
“Yes, yes,” Grahvos agreed, “we made a serious, a very costly error with Zastros, and we know that, we all know that now. But no one of us could have known away back when just how much he had changed in the wake of his catastrophic defeat at the Battle of Ahrbahkootchee and his three years of exile. Hopefully, it is not yet too late to save our homelands from any more of Zastros’ misrule.
“Well, if the High Lord of Kehnooryos Ehlahs wants the High King and his witch-wife as full ransom payment for all of the rest of us, our alternatives are few, and each one more bitter than the last: we can just continue to sit here while the soldiers desert individually and in whole units until starvation or camp fever or an arrow in the night takes us off, or we can gather what forces are left and biddable to our orders and essay another assault against that deathtrap bridge ... although, to my way of thinking, falling upon our swords would be an easier and a cleaner and a quicker way of suiciding.
“But, my lords, our people down south don’t need us all dead, they need us all alive, so I say we should just leave Zastros and Queen Lilyuhn to our esteemed former foemen and take ourselves and our warbands back home, for as God knows, we and they have more than enough to accomplish or try to accomplish there. How says the Council?”
Seven ayes immediately answered his question.
Grahvos nodded. “Agreed, then. Now that that much is settled, we must bring another thorny matter into the open. Whois going to rule without Zastros, eh? Each one of us here has just as much claim to the Dragon Throne as the next. But can the Kingdom of the Southern Ehleenchee survive yet another three or more years of civil war and general anarchy? I think not.
“Take a good look around this table, gentlemen, and while you do so, reflect that our Great Council was once made up of thirty-two thoheeksee. Including Zastros, there are now only nine thoheeksee within our camp. If young Vikos made it back home all right, there are still but two living thoheeksee in all of the lands of the Southern Ehleenoee .
“What of all the rest, gentlemen? I’ll tell you what: twenty of our near or distant kin, almost two thirds of the original Council, died senselessly and uselessly while dishonorably fighting like cur-dogs over a stinking piece of maggoty offal!”
Grahvos stared each of his peers hard in the face, then went on in grim tones. “I say: no more, gentlemen, no more. If we name another of our own number king, just how long will it be before one or more of us others is tempted to enlarge our warband to overthrow and replace him?”
There were sober nods and mutterings of agreement with his hard words all round the table.
At length, Thoheeks Bahos grunted the obvious question in his rolling bass voice. “All right, but then just what are we to do, Grahvos? We Southern Ehleeno-heemust have a strong ruler. But another tyrant like Hyamos and his lousy son would beget another rebellion; you know that and so do we.”
Grahvos once more gave his place to Captain Vahrohnos Mahvros, saying, “Now, lad, tell them the rest of it, that which you told me when first you returned.”
“My lords, while awaiting us and even while fighting us, the High Lord Milo has persuaded King Zenos and Lord Alexandres to merge their lands and folk and destiny with him and his in what he calls his Confederation. With his client state of the Thoheekseeahn of Kuhmbuhluhn, Kehnooryos Ehlahs, Karaleenos and the Sea Isles, he will rule over and command more forces and resources than even the richest and largest and most powerful of the barbarian Middle Kingdoms.”
The seven seated thoheeksee squirmed, cracked knuckles and shot furtive, worried glances at one another and at Grahvos. With such a newmade power immediately to their north, they might not have enough time to bring the kingdom back to enough order to repel a retaliatory invasion. Perhaps . . . perhaps they should, after all, fight here and die rather than live on to see their patrimonial lands occupied by hordes of aliens?
“Mylords, the new High Lord of Kehnooryos Ehlahs, Karaleenos, the Sea Isles and Kuhmbuhluhn has freely offered the thirty-three thoheekseeahnee full-standing memberships in his Confederation. All nobles are to retain their lands, cities, rights and titles, only their sworn allegiance will change, for there will no longer be a king, but rather a prince and three or fourahrkee thoheeksee, these to be chosen and appointed from among the thirty-three; the twenty-eight or -nine will be responsible to them, and they, the High Lord’s satraps, will speak for the Confederation. There will never be another king.
“In practice, each thoheeks will act as royal governor of his lands for the High Lord. Once each year, all will meet to work out taxes and any other matters with the High Lord’s emissaries.
“Please understand, my lords, the High Lord is bringing no pressure to bear, he demands no immediate answer to or acceptance of this offer. He bade me say only that Council should be told, think on the matter for as long as they wished and only then answer yea or nay. I have done his bidding, my lords.”
The first to speak subsequent to the dropping of this bombshell was Thoheeks Mahnos. “What of our warbands, Vahrohnos Mahvros? What had this High Lord Milos to say of them? Does he mean to take them all into his army, march them away, leave us defenseless?”
But it was Grahvos who answered the question, prefacing his answer by saying, “I had all of this of the good Mahvros a little earlier, of course. Now, naturally, we will be expected to furnish some troops for the Army of the Confederation and to maintain a trained spear levy, as we always have done. Noblemen will not be denied bodyguards and some armed retainers, nor will cities be ungarrisoned, but the large warbands must be dissolved.”
Thoheeks Bahos nodded emphatically. “Good and good, again. Give a man—any man—a small army to play with and all hell is likely to break loose. Besides, I’d liefer see my men pushing plows than pikes, any damned day. You have my aye yet again, Grahvos, on this matter. Foreign ruler or nay, no king and no war sounds more than good to me.”
There had been a few, halfhearted dissenters, but within a scant hour, the matter had been talked out and settled, for the firm yet eminently fair government of Kehnooryos Ehlahs had been the subject of speculation and grudging admiration for the thirty years since its inception, and all of the thoheeksee agreed that almost any form of rule was far preferable to the howling chaos that had enveloped their lands during the last decade or so.
That done, the meeting broke up and the senior noblemen scattered to their various commands to order their forces, prepare to break camp and march as soon as possible. But they had agreed to meet again, each with a retinue of reliable, loyal, well-armed men, at King Zastros’ pavilion at a specified time. There still was work to do before they once more became their own men.