Mitchell Smith - Kingdom River

"With all the cavalry we've got."

"That's right, Ned. Picking up the divisions on his way. Every mount, every man and woman."

"And if he loses those people? – Excuse me, Howell. But what if all those people are lost?"

"Then, Ned," Sam said, "we go for a swim in Sewer Creek. So Howell is ordered not to lose those people."

"Takes care of that," Howell said, and cut a small chew of tobacco.

" – Also Howell, when you reach Map-Fort Stockton, kill what fighting men you can, of course, and any women who fight beside them, but otherwise, harm no women or children."

"That's tender, Sam." Howell tucked the tobacco into his lower lip. "Tender… But why?"

"Because, in the future, I want the Khan's troopers fighting only for him, not for their families' lives."

"Good policy," the little librarian said, then closed his mouth when the others looked at him.

"But bad policy" – Eric drummed his fingers on the table – "bad policy to have one here who was the Khan's… and still may be."

"My Second-mother, Catania," Sam said, "found Neckless Peter to be a good friend, and honest. Is there anyone now in North Map-Mexico with better judgment in these matters?"

Sam waited through what Warm-time copybooks called 'a pregnant pause.' A small gray moth, alive past its season, fluttered at a hanging lamp.

"… None I know of," Eric said. "Librarian, I apologize."

"Unnecessary," Neckless Peter said. "A chief of intelligence should act the part."

"Okay. Charles, any problem with the staging of remounts – any problem with payments, with moving the herds up the line?"

"Lots of problems, Sam. Lots of angry ranchers. But your horses will be there, Howell."

"Eric?"

"Sam, fodder's already wagoned and waiting. Hay and grain at Ocampo and La Babia. Rations, horseshoes, spare tack, sheepskin blankets for the horses. Sheepskin mitts, cloaks, overboots, and sleep-sacks for the troopers. Ten of Portia's people mounted to accompany with medical kits and horse stretchers."

"All costing an absolute fortune," Charles said.

"And only the first expense, Charles."

"Meaning what, Sam?"

"Meaning that Howell and the cavalry are not coming back south… Meaning that during the next two to three Warm-time weeks – presuming the Kipchaks intend nothing serious west of the Bend – during the next two to three weeks, all the army, all reserves, and selected militia companies, will gather to march north over the border, up the Gulf coast into Map West-Louisiana, then north again into Map-Arkansas and the Hills-Ozark."

Sam finished speaking into a silence that seemed deep as dark water.

"… My God Almighty. " An oath from Jaime Rascob that would have called for burning, a few decades before.

Another silence, then, until Phil Butler broke it. "About time." Butler had a rusty voice. "If the Khan takes the Kingdom, we're next. There's no doubt about that." One of his tiny dogs – not Poppy – climbed up onto his left shoulder like a cat. "Yes," Eric said. "I suppose… about time. But surely after the winter would be better."

"After the winter," Elvin Rascob said, "with the Kipchaks already campaigned down that frozen river, Middle Kingdom would be dead as me."

"Right," Howell said. "He'll go up into Map-Missouri now, take a river port – and as the Mississippi freezes, send his tumans down the ice. Split the Kingdom, East-bank from West… and the whole thing will be in his hands."

"And then," Jaime said, "he'd come for us."

Lamplight seemed to waver slightly in Sam's sight, move to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Relief… relief and a deep breath no one must see him draw. These men, and Margaret, might have said, "No. No war. We won't have it unless we're invaded. The army won't have it. The people won't have it!"… They might have said so, knowing he would never stand, take his sword from the rack, and walk out to gather loyal soldiers, order the hangman to stretch and grease his ropes.

"Once in the Hills-Ozark," Sam said, "we'll threaten the Khan's lines of supply and communication with Caravanserai, and with his ports on the Ocean Pacific. Very long lines of supply. Everything for his army will have to come through broken country just north of us." Sam picked up the carving knife, stroked its edge across mutton bones on the serving platter. "He will not be able to let that stand. He'll have to turn from the Kingdom's river to strike us."

Howell nodded. "And when he turns…"

"We fight him, and hope Middle Kingdom strikes the rest of his army, in the north, at the same time."

"Their armies are supposed to be good enough," Ned said, "and if, as we hear from Eric, those warships are truly capable, skating around on the ice…"

"My people have reported on those ships, Ned. And what they report is so."

"No offense meant, Eric. But we would be depending on those people. What's the guarantee of their fighting hard enough in the north to tie down half the Khan's army?"

"As yet – none." Sam tapped the carving knife's point on his plate. A soft ringing sound. "But it makes good sense for them to do it. Together, we'd have the Kipchaks in a toothed spring-trap, with jaws even Toghrul might not be able to break."

"If you can persuade the Boxcars – and then, as Ned says, depend on them." Eric smiled. "And they've always been slow at war. Strong, but slow. Two armies, Left- and Right-bank – always kept separate – and the Fleet, and the river lords, don't make for quick response."

"Ah…" Butler stroked a dog. "But if Middle Kingdom will move, we can play kickball with him. Toghrul campaigns north to the river, is heavily engaged – then has to turn south to us, while hoping the rest of his army still holds in the north. We've given him two chances to lose."

"Yes," Sam said. "The Kingdom to his front, and us coming up his ass right across his lines of supply. We'll see how Kipchak tumans enjoy campaigning with enemies north and south of them. We'll see how they enjoy fighting us in hills and forest, our kind of country. And they'll have to fight us, or winter-starve." Sam examined lamplight gleaming down the carving knife's blade. "Which reminds me; our dear Catania said there were likely still the old Trappers, though only a few, in North Map-Texas. Perhaps, Eric, if you sent a person riding far north now, to ask in her name and mine, they might sled down to interfere with those supply lines here and there. Teach the Kipchaks lessons in deep-snow fighting."

"That can be done."

"All very nice," Ned said, "if Lord Winter and Lady Weather cooperate. Nice, if everything goes perfectly."

"Almost perfectly will do, Ned." Sam put the carving knife down. "I know no other way to beat him."

"He could withdraw early," Howell said. "Take his losses… plan to deal with us next year. And after that, go back to the Kingdom."

"He could," Sam said, "if his pride can bear a thousand-mile retreat, his tribesmen swallow it. And after that, he'd find us and Middle Kingdom firmly allied, and the more ready to deal with him… Truth is, the Khan has made a mistake. He's sent a small force against us, thinking we'll be concerned about our border, and will only deal with that – for instance, by return-raiding up to Map-Fort Stockton – while he passes us by in his campaign against the Kingdom. I don't think it will occur to Toghrul that Map-Fort Stockton might be only cover for positioning Howell's cavalry to screen our army as it moves north past the Gulf and up through Map-Louisiana and Map-Arkansas."

"That is nice." Ned blew gently on his bandaged stump, as if to cool it."

"So I hope," Sam said. "The Khan's made a serious mistake, but I doubt he'll make another. Our time against him is now… or never."