Mitchell Smith - Kingdom River

"They might want to, Ned, but they won't. They need us."

"They may not need us, Sam. They can fight the Khan and maybe beat him without us. And New England will help them."

"A point," Eric said. "Sam, our Light Cavalryman has a point. I doubt if the West-bank generals or East-bank generals – let alone two or three hundred river lords – consider us ideal allies."

"Perhaps not ideal, Eric. Still, it can't be comfortable for the Kingdom with the Khan to the west, savages and tribesmen north, and New England breeding Mountain-Jesus-knows-what to the east."

"True… and, of course, we also need them."

"Yes, we do, unless we want to face the Kipchaks alone once Middle Kingdom goes down – and then have to conduct a fighting retreat south through the mountains, where the Empire's army will certainly be waiting for us."

Neckless Peter cleared his throat. "I believe New England will not help the Boxcar Kingdom. I felt so when they sent the girl, Patience. New England wants them to lose. Wants us to lose."

"Us?" Eric smiled.

"Eric," Sam said, "that's enough."

"Boston wants the Kipchaks winning?" Ned looked better with impatient color in his face. "Horseshit, old man. That would leave the Khan ruling all the civilized river-country!"

"Yes, Colonel. But the Khan isn't civilized, and his people aren't civilized. He orders, and they obey. They have no Warm-time law. No law but his word."

"You might ask the governor of Sonora about laws and words and obedience, Librarian." Charles took a sip of beer.

"Charles," Sam said. Certainly a friend beginning to be lost. "That's almost the same, but only almost. If the state reeve had refused to arrest, if the magistrate now refuses to convict, I'll have to come to some accommodation."

No answer from Charles Ketch.

"To hell with Stewart and Sonora," Ned said. "Eric – this visit to Middle Kingdom. This was your idea?"

"The Queen's idea, Ned," Sam said. "And she wouldn't want the visit just to toss me in the river. She's looking for what help we can give them."

"Looking for more than that," Charles said.

"More?" Howell spit into his saucer.

"There's a bride-groom question." Eric smiled. "Her daughter."

"Wedding bells with the Princess Rachel?" Ned grinned and thumped his wrist-stump on the table. "Ow! Weather damn this thing!"

"An engagement, perhaps," Sam said. "I doubt the Queen really intends a wedding."

"Look, Sam," Howell said, "your plan makes good sense. But that will make no difference if Middle Kingdom doesn't agree, doesn't care to listen to you. The Boxcars don't like our holding the Gulf's west coast. They don't like us freeing serfs that run south. They don't like North Map-Mexico having an army, and especially not a good army. And they don't like you ruling down here with no dots on your face."

"Still, the Queen needs us."

"And afterward, Sam, if she no longer needs us?"

"By that time, the Princess Rachel and I may be engaged – if a serious engagement was ever intended. It's likely a notion of the Queen's to keep the river lords unbalanced."

"Right," Eric said.

Neckless Peter said, "Probably."

"And it's possible" – Sam smiled – "that the Queen will grow fond of me."

"Oh, how not, boy?" Elvin said through his bandanna. "And you such a charmer!" He found a strip of mutton fat on his brother's plate, and threw it down the table. Missed Sam, and hit Margaret on her shirt's shoulder.

"That's my fucking red southern-cotton!" She kicked her bench back and jumped up. "If you weren't dying, Elvin, I'd kill you. I've got to get warm water on this." She went out into the hall. "Louis, get down."

"But Sam," Charles said, "engaged? Is it necessary?"

"I think it's going to be."

"Nailed Jesus." Jaime picked up a fork, toyed with it. "Nailed Jesus, Sam. Engaged… then married into those people?"

"Cannibals." Ned rested his wrist stump on the table.

"Used to be cannibals, Ned."

"Sam," Howell said, "you talk of the Princess and the Queen. But the river lords, the generals, the admirals of the Fleet – will they 'grow fond' of you?"

"Perhaps they'll learn to seem so… And, another matter. Phil, forgive me, but the Boston girl goes north with the army."

"You're joking."

"No, Phil, I'm not. A price of her silence, her not at least trying to inform Map-McAllen that you're coming over the border."

"Sam," Eric being patient, "her silence could have been assured otherwise. And her little flying-thing gone the same way."

"Eric, I think we have enough on our plate without murdering Boston's ambassador, and her pet."

"As I understand it," Neckless Peter said, "New England would likely regret the Mailman as much as the lady. The creatures are very expensive."

"There you are, Eric – both too expensive to murder."

"I hope, Sam, they won't prove too expensive kept alive."

"A concern for another day. So, Phil, arrange a small guard detachment for her, see to her comfort and supplies. And apparently she's a killing lady; watch that that scimitar doesn't get her into more trouble than she can get out of."

Butler took off his imperial spectacles, polished them with a linen napkin, "This must be punishment for sin."

"Punishment for bringing those damn dogs to dinner," Elvin said. "Have we more business here? I have to pee."

"Louis, get down. …" Margaret came in from the hall. "And let me tell another old dog that he's very lucky that stain seemed to come out. I hope it came out." She settled onto her bench.

"I wasn't throwing at you."

"Elvin," Jaime said, "just be quiet."

"Don't tell me to be quiet. – Baja."

"What?"

"Jaime, Baja militia should be ready to move east with Sonora's, if Charmian has trouble with those Kipchaks come down."

"I think Charmian and Chihuahua can handle them. But alright; we'll pigeon Oso. Tell him to stop fucking his sheep and get his people assembled."

"What about New England?" Howell spit into his saucer again, winked at Margaret.

"As I said" – Neckless Peter no longer so shy – "Boston wishes the Kingdom defeated."

"And why would New England want the Khan to win, Librarian?" Ned took a swallow of beer. "How does that help them?"

"They want it, Colonel, because the Kipchaks are a fragile force – "

"Right. Only thirty, forty thousand cavalry."

"Still fragile, Ned," Sam said, "in time. The Khan will die someday, and his son, or his successor, is unlikely to be as formidable. But their Khan is all the Kipchaks have. Without Toghrul, or another like him, they're only separate tribes of shepherds and raiders."

"That's true enough." Howell bent to spit in his saucer again, but Margaret reached over and snatched it away. "Well, for Weather's sake! Women in trousers… never a good thing – oof!"

"Now, children," Phil said.

"She has an elbow like an ax! – Give me the damn dish."

"Spit in your fucking pocket," Margaret said.

"A brute with tits."

"You two finished?" Sam said. "… I think Peter's right, and New England takes the long view. Middle Kingdom, if it survives, will certainly grow to threaten Boston in time. The Kingdom is a book-civilization; formidable even under weak rule. New England would certainly prefer, in the future, to deal with the Kipchaks."

Eric nodded. "It does make sense that Boston would like to see us and Middle-Kingdom go down. Also, considering the future, most of Map-East America is wooded, close country. Some mountains also, apparently. Kipchak horsemen wouldn't be as comfortable campaigning there."

"And," Charles said, "whatever womb-things the New Englanders are mind-making are likely to enjoy dark woods."