A Cat of Silvery Hue by Adams Robert

“What your thoheeks does with you and your like will be his decision-though I will recommend against impalement in your case, since you might enjoy it, at least at first.”

Kleetos burst out, “Thoheeks Vawn is dead! I saw his body, what was left of it.”

Bili smiled grimly. “There be a new Thoheeks Vawn, now. He is Hwahltuh, Chief of Sanderz, and I would that he could be here this evening, but he and his clansmen are presently scouting out the environs of Vawnpolis.”

“Ha! Now I know you lie, heathen,” scoffed Kleetos. “There be no House of Sanderz. And besides, we have disbanded the Council of Threes, which means that there is no one to approve an heir. And if there were, there’d be no heir to approve.” His harsh laugh bore a sinister undertone.

“You’d not know the Clan Sanderz, rebel,” Bili agreed. “They’ve been less than six moons in the Confederation, after riding and fighting their way east from the Sea of Grass.”

“Wild Horseclansmen, heathen?” inquired Kleetos. “Who are you trying to impress with your lies? Me? Why even I know that new-come barbarians are given freshly conquered lands. But only the High Lord-or rather that cursed Undying sorcerer who has usurped the title-can make such a gift, anyway.”

“Just so, rebel dog,” Bili smiled. “I myself witnessed the ceremony of investiture, which was held at Morguhnpolia rather than the capital. As for the state of the land, Vawn will be as a freshly conquered principality when we’ve flushed all you death worshipers out of it. And, as for sorcery, the High Lord just used it to read your mind.”

“Which,” put in Milo, “was like swimming through a sewer! I have lived near a millennium, but I have never before encountered such depravity in one so young. I must confess, I had long thought that the last Ehleen High Lord, Demetrios Treeah-Pohtohmas, represented the absolute nadir of human compassion, but I think that your vast amusement and completely unnatural satisfactions in the pointless tortures and humiliations of helpless, harmless men, women and children who happened to be in your power would have shocked Demetrios at his worst.”

In the wake of the calamitous attack, the van and flank guards were reinforced to double strength, so that scouting or campsite activities would not again unduly weaken them. And the nobles and troopers now rode fully armed from commencement to end of each day’s march, regardless of heat, discomfort or weariness.

During all of the next, long day, Milo and Aldora made it a point to ride with the forward elements of the column, being especially wary during the late-afternoon hour when the previous ambush had occurred. But the day and march were uneventful, as was the heavily guarded camp through all the night. It was not until three hours after sunrise that the next blow was struck.

With the light of false dawn, the vanguard contingent had clattered out of camp, most of the nobles and their Free-fighters with the flankers taking the road a bare half-hour later. Then had the long, serried ranks of infantry set hide-shod feet to the measured beat of the marching drums, thankful that but two days’ march separated them from Vawnpolis, cursing the muddy morass which last night’s rain had made of the hoof-churned road as vociferously as had they cursed yesterday’s dust.

At their departure, the exodus of the wagons of supplies and equipment commenced. While officers’ and nobles’ servants struck tents and loaded baggage, apprentice sanitarians directed squads of sappers in filling latrines and offal pits. Fires were extinguished and teams hitched and the rearguard kahtahfrahktoee and lancers impatiently sat stamping horses on the fringes of the bustle. Though all mounted and accoutered for the road, they had not yet assembled in marching order but were gathered in small groups, chatting, jesting, spitting, watching the beehive of activities within the perimeters of the soon to be abandoned campsite.

Because his superior officer, Sub-strahteegos Arnos Tchainee, lay ill of a fever in one of the medical wagons now lumbering along the Vawnpolis road, Captain Gaib Linstahk found himself in nominal command of the entire squadron of kahtahfrahktoee as well as of the two troops of lancers trickling out in ones and twos on the flanks of the slowly departing baggage train Nor were these the least of his problems, for, as the Undying High Lady Aldora was traveling this day in her huge, luxurious yurt, he had to deal with the frequently insubordinate commander of her mounted bodyguard, as well as with threescore country noblemen, all surly and irascible at being placed in the rear and not the van.

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