“Yes,” nodded Mother Mahrnee. “We are of the same, ancient race as the mountain folk, and you Ehleenee would do well to remember that fact. Our race is descended in direct line from the demigods, the Mehruhkuhnz, untainted by the blood of effete Ehleenee.
“When first the Ehleenee came to this land, driving our race north and west, they were strong and valiant and honor? able foemen, but in the centuries since, while we progressed, they have either remained static or have actually regressed. It required the Coming of the Horseclans and the unstinting efforts of the Undying High Lord to infuse new purpose along with new blood and inaugurate the snail-slow process of snapping your Ehleenee ancestors out of their course of certain racial suicide.
“As for what you have said of our people, some of it is true. No, we do not take to books and quills and soaps and scented water, but you who do so would not long be contented or safe as you now are without certain of the creations and products of our own civilization. Count Djeen.
“Your good sword bears the hallmark of the Kingdom of Pitzburk, as does each piece of your armor and, indeed, most of the decent weapons and armor in this duchy! That fine velvet you wore last night at dinner was woven in the capital of our own homeland, the Duchy of Zunburk, while your boots look to be from the County of Pahtzburk. And who but Middle Kingdoms Freefighters fought the Ehleenee’s wars, ere God Milo crossbred Ehleenee with Horseclansmen and forced them to become other than effeminate fops?”
“And, speaking of God Milo, Count Djeen,” interjected Mother Behrnees, “he knows the folk of the Middle Kingdoms far better than do you, yet he has never slandered us. Why, then, do you take such joy in it, not just here and now, but right often in the past?”
“You may be certain,” the old man smiled thinly, “that my dear lord feels precisely as I do, but he must be diplomatic in any congress with your barbarians, since your dungheaps adjoin his northern and northwestern borders, just as he must call common mercenaries ‘Freefighters.’ But I need not be so careful of treading on barbarian toes, for I am but-”
“You are but a fool!” The mindspeak was of terrible intensity and was broadbeamed into the minds of every mind-speaker in the hall. “You were a hidebound, opinionated, self-righteous young fool, forty years ago, Djeen Morguhn, and I can see that age has not brought you wisdom!”
Then the alarm trumpet pealed from the watchtower and Feelahks Sami bellowed, “They have forded the stream and they now approach the hall. Open the gates! Now comes the Undying High Lady Aldora Linszee Treeah-Pohtohmahs Pahpahs!”
CHAPTER I
Vahrohneeskos Drehkos Daiviz had gotten the last contingent of his peasant-pikemen across the stream and jogging toward Morguhnpolis before the Vawnee scouts galloped in to report the Confederation cavalry’s van to be no more than some two miles distant. He was distractedly rubbing an unshaven cheek and wondering whether he should try to cover the retreat of the hapless infantry with his mere handful of mounted men when the senior of the remaining sub-priests intruded upon his reverie with a demand.
“Lord Drehkos, if it be true that the hordes of the cursed Undying be not a mile away, I must insist that our coaches be returned to us, for the lives of those who do God’s work are certainly of more importance than are those of the wretches you have ordered our conveyances filled with!”
Drehkos was not at all religious. He had joined the rebellion for the avowed purpose of gaining his brother’s landa and title. His answer was heavily larded with studied irreverence. “Reverend Father, if you and your fellow ‘servants of God’ expect to reach Morguhnpolis other than on your well-shod feet, perhaps you had best start praying that God quickly grant you wings. You can blame Lord Myros and Father Rikos for the fact you have to walk; for had they not taken the last of the sound and usable wagons when they- ahhhh, shall we say, “proceeded* our departure last night- you’d be able to ride in the style to which you feel entitled. But III be damned if I intend to leave behind wounded officers and men, simply so priestly feet might be spared a few honest blisters!