The Tyrant by Eric Flint and David Drake

Demansk was doing his own calculations. He needed to get Helga off as soon as possible, before the sailing season ended. That meant, at the latest, two months from now.

“You’ll have to be ready to leave in six weeks,” he said firmly.

The First Spear sloped his shoulders. It was not a gesture of despair; simply one of a man prepared to do whatever work was needed.

“I’m to be First Spear again, then?”

Demansk shook his head. “No. You’ll stay out of combat. I need you to oversee the business—and give my daughter the advice and counsel she’ll need.

“As far as possible,” he added, remembering her headstrong attitude. The First Spear smiled. Clearly enough, he’d heard stories of Helga Demansk’s temperament.

“You pick the First Spear,” said Demansk. “I’ve got a different title for you. A new one.” He’d given this some thought. “You’re a ‘Special Attendant’ for Verice Demansk. The first of several, I suspect. The pay is a lot better, I might add.”

The former First Spear pursed his lips. “And what exactly is the authority of such a . . . ‘Special Attendant’?”

“Whatever it becomes,” replied Demansk flatly. “I’ll have a new title myself pretty soon. ‘Triumvir.’ ”

The new Special Attendant nodded his head. “Good move that, sir, if you’ll permit me saying so. Always defeat ’em in detail, when you can.”

A smile came to Demansk’s face. He suspected it was not a cheery expression, though. Several species of carnivores smiled also, at times. But his new subordinate’s perspicacity pleased him, and besides—carnivores who smiled hunted in packs.

“I’ll need to be off now, Special Attendant. I’ll send money to you, as soon as you figure out how much you’ll need for everything.”

They had been standing in front of the house the whole time. The Special Attendant had the reins of Demansk’s velipad in his fist, since he’d politely helped him dismount when he arrived. He held them out and Demansk took them back.

As he turned away, preparing to mount, a sudden thought came to him. His face flushed a bit.

“Special Attendant, what is your name?”

The man’s actual grin, when it finally came, was surprisingly light-hearted. “It’s to be the old times again, damn me if it won’t!” he exclaimed cheerily. “Jessep, sir. Jessep Yunkers.”

* * *

Demansk’s escort was waiting for him in the tavern of a village nearby. He’d left them there so no one would know exactly where he had gone. The village, Demansk realized as he returned to it, was not the one Jessep had mentioned. Which was just as well, he decided. If spies started retracing his steps, they wouldn’t find much here.

The officer in charge of the escort was a responsible man, so he had kept his men from drinking too much. The party was back on the road within minutes.

“One more stop before we’re home,” Demansk told him. Since there would be no way to keep this stop secret—and no need to, for that matter—he added: “Trae’s villa. The new one, on the other side of the river.”

* * *

The new “villa” of Demansk’s youngest son Trae was a peculiar sort of thing. The mansion which served as the actual dwelling was standard enough, if a bit on the small side for a scion of such a wealthy family. But the adjoining buildings along the riverside—all of them newly constructed—were not something you’d find on most Confederate noblemen’s estates.

Not on any, qualified Demansk to himself, as he dismounted in front of the largest new building. Trae called it a “workshop.” The fact that he’d even call it that was enough to demonstrate the young man’s eccentricity. Modern Vanbert noblemen did not engage in such disreputable activity as “work.”

Before he entered the workshop, Demansk walked over to the riverbank and studied the river. Trae’s estates were on the northern bank of the estuary of the Wantrell. Demansk could see his own great villa in the distance, perched on a small hill across the river.

Here, very close to the sea, the river was almost a mile wide. And . . .

Deep enough, Demansk decided. We’ll need to build a dock. But Helga’s ship, even as big a one as I’ll get her, can make moorage here.

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