«You look like a ghost,» said Serana. «Sit down and have some wine and cake. You want to live to see Morina free, don't you?»
Count Drago smiled, but there was no amusement in his voice as he replied. «I am a ghost, in a way. Or at least I feel there are ghosts with me and in me.» He sipped at his wine.
«Last night I dreamed of a procession of the dead, Morina's dead in a hundred years of warfare against the Wizard. My father led the procession, with his shield upon his shoulder and his skull gaping open as it did when they found his body. He spoke to me, though I do not remember what he said. Then he gave me his shield, and after that I awoke.»
In spite of this voice from the past, the count was as ruthless and unsentimental as ever when it came to deciding the future of Morina. The bargaining went on all day and only came to an end over a late supper. In the end they worked out the following agreement:
(1) The Bossirs should be declared the true and proper heirs to the ducal throne by the Assembly of Morina as soon as it could lawfully meet.
(2) Count Drago would renounce any claim to the throne for himself.
(3) His surviving grandson Zemun would be proclaimed Duke of Morina upon the deposition or death of Duke Efrim.
(4) If Zemun Bossir did not survive the coming battles, Zemun's own son by his dead wife would be proclaimed heir.
(5) If Zemun's son succeeded, Count Drago would be sole Regent as long as he lived. After that there would be a Council of Regency, drawn from the Assembly and other notables.
(6) Serana would marry Zemun Bossir after the war, and become Duchess of Morina. She would also be a member of the Council of Regency if one became necessary.
There were also several dozen minor clauses, dividing up the Zotair estates, awarding this or that office, etc., with repeated references to the count's will. Serana's dowery rights, and much else. By the time every point was covered; the agreement spread across several large sheets of parchment. By the time it was all drawn up with proper calligraphy and in proper legal language, it would be the size of a small book.
None of them considered the time wasted. As long as they were going to reach are agreement at all, they had to do a good job. As the count put it, «We're forging a weapon to use against the Wizard. No sensible man will ever trust a weapon that's not well made.»
At last the job was done. The count was escorted home by a squad of Blade's guards and Serana led Blade to their bed. He went, but afterward asked, «Do you think we should go on sharing this room? If you are to be married to Zemun Bossir after the war-«
«Zemun Bossir will have a good and loyal wife, after I have married him,» Serana replied. «Until our wedding day, I am by law, custom, and my own choice my own mistress. If Zemun Bossir worries about what I do now, he will only waste strength he will certainly need against the Wolves.»
Then her lips began their urgent journey back and forth across Blade's body. As he lay back under their caresses, Blade thought of her last remark, and how true it was. Sooner or later, this unnatural condition that was neither war nor peace would come to a bloody end, and the Wolves would come to Morina.
Blade went up on the city's walls every morning before dawn, to watch for the smoke on the horizon and the glint of sunlight on armor that would tell him the Wolves had come. Sometimes Zemun Bossir accompanied Blade, sometimes Count Drago. Young Zemun was so happy over being heir-apparent to Morina that he was quite prepared to forgive Blade for almost anything.
«After all, Blade.» he said, «I owe you far too much to feel the jealous rage of a child. I know what sort of captivity Serana endured in the Wizard's castle. I shall make her forget it all when I am duke. I shall do anything to make her forget it, anything.»
«You show a good heart, Zemun. I wish you luck, and both of you much happiness.»
Privately Blade sometimes thought Zemun Bossir was so enthusiastic about becoming Duke of Morina that he sometimes forgot about the coming war. Still, he seemed a good choice to rule the new Morina. He was brave, intelligent, thoroughly honest, and with a real gift for winning popularity. His company of guards would follow him through fire and water. He was also impulsive, enthusiastic, and talkative, but he'd get over that in a few more years-if he or anyone else in Morina lived that long.
The Wolves would come. It was impossible that the Wizard would let his power simply dissolve without putting up a fight to save it. So where were the Wolves?
Count Drago offered part of the answer. «I've read the history of every fight the Wolves have been in since I was born,» he said. «I've never read of their being out for more than five or six days at a time. I've never heard of their laying siege to a city, or even using war engines in the field. Did you see any stone-throwers, wagons, tents, things like that, when you were in the castle?»
«No.»
«Then the Wizard probably doesn't have any. He's like all soldiers. When they've fought one kind of war for three generations, they forget there's any other kind.
«The Wolves have been raiders, not campaigners, for three generations. They'll have to build everything they need for a long campaign, then learn how to use it, then march on Morina. The sky-bridges won't put them down right outside our gates this time. They'll have to ride, probably for several days, and our scouts will be watching them every foot of the way.»
The count rambled on about the coming campaign against the Wolves for quite a while. Blade began to realize that one problem when the Wolves did come would be keeping Count Drago out of the fighting. His eighty years had slowed his limbs, but they hadn't dimmed his eye or his fierce hatred of the Wolves.
Blade hoped the count was right about the Wolves having to learn to become campaigners instead of raiders. If he was, Morina might have more time than Blade had dared hope. Every extra day would make it a tougher nut for the Wolves to crack.
No one in Morina was wasting any time. The weaponsmakers worked as if the Wolves were already at the gates.
The forges smoked and the toots clattered morning, noon, and night. Already there were weapons for two thousand men. In another two weeks there would be enough to arm five thousand, which was nearly every man in Morina fit for war.
The men already armed were training hard, under Blade's leadership and the guidance of reliable men from Zemun Bossir's company of guards. The city's guards had been policemen and firemen as much as soldiers, but they made fairly good drillmasters. Compared to Blade, the Wizard had an easy job. He merely had to make raiders into campaigners. Blade had to make an army of men who hadn't fought or expected to fight for three generations.
Other things were being done, to make sure Morina would not be taken by surprise or have to fight alone. Mounted patrols scoured all the roads, stopping and searching travellers to make sure the Wizard's agents could not place new skybridge crystals close to the city. Working parties prepared ambush sites and roadblocks Blade was taking a leaf from the Wizard's own book, setting up a defense in depth to hammer at the Wolves long before they reached the city's walls.
The most important riders were those who pounded along the roads with Blade's messages to the other cities and towns of Rentoro. Rise, he told them. Rise and be free! The Wizard has never had real magic, and now he has no secrets either. I know how we may defeat him, and free Rentoro from his grasp.
Some of the cities and towns rose against the Wizard even more enthusiastically than Morina. The Wizard's spies fled or died horribly, blacksmiths sweated forging spearpoints and helmets, and search parties scoured the countryside for skybridge crystals.