Mitchell Smith - Kingdom River

"From your lips, to Weather's wind." General Lenihan frowned. "But the Fleet seems to me to be in question. East-bank army will move; Aiken already has skirmishers out on the ice. But no pigeon has mentioned ships of the line sailing up to meet him. And unless there are warships skating through those tumans with scorpions and pitch-throwers, the East-bank army will be swamped just as the West-bankers were."

"It will be news to the army, I'm sure," Admiral Hopkins said, "that warships must be careened to fit with runners. This can be done by the crews, but cannot be done properly in less than a day."

"If this had been planned… had been started earlier – "

"Lenihan," – the larger admiral, Pearce, seemed to swell in his seat – "if the Fleet had been advised earlier, you would have seen ships rigged earlier. We can do only what we're told to do at the time. We hadn't expected West-bank army to lose St. Louis!"

"And where were their reinforcements? Where was the fucking Fleet – down in the Gulf playing grab-ass with some row-boat pirates!"

"Am I to take that as personal, Lenihan? As a personal remark?"

"You are not, Admiral!" Sam had thought the Queen would interfere, then saw she was watching him, waiting. "There will be nothing personal in these discussions. We have no time for it. If any officer feels offended, he is free to come complain to me… then regret it."

Silence.

"Admirals, at least sixty warships are to be ice-rigged within the next five days, or there will be more energetic admirals commanding them… And general officers will keep their mouths shut about Fleet matters – of which they are largely ignorant – and prepare to support Aiken's East-bank army with any and all personnel and supplies they require."

"Sir, we do not commingle – "

"I understand, Parker, that it hasn't been the custom to transfer troops and equipment from one bank army to the other, though it appears that General Lenihan has been making an attempt at coordination. Still, I know that complete separation of the bank armies has been the rule – and when we win this war, if Middle Kingdom is more comfortable with that situation, it may be reinstated. Now, however, it no longer holds."

There was a little stir around the table. Muttering.

"I will have any supply or maintenance officer, or officer commanding, who withholds troops or equipment or rations from any engaged unit of either bank army, court-martialed, convicted, and hanged… To which end, from this meeting onward, the generals provost-marshal in both armies are united into one command – to be armored in red – under whichever officer is senior, to enforce this order without hesitation… There will be no appeals from his judgment."

There were soft scratching sounds back from the table as notes were made. "No. Absolutely not!" DeVane shoved his chair back and stood. "I won't – "

"General," Sam said, speaking quietly, "I'd hate to lose you; I understand you're a fighting officer. But the Queen and I will have obedience. Unless you sit down, sir, you will command nothing in this war but a labor battalion."

"Floating Jesus… " DeVane hesitated, then sat down.

"Thank you, General, for yielding to necessity."

"And what… necessity, Monroe, do you find for us?" Lords Sayre and Cooper both looked only politely interested.

"Contribution of those goods and household fighting-men you and the other river lords can spare, short of ruin."

"Plain speaking." Michael Cooper looked at Sam as pleasantly as an old uncle might. "I do wonder, though – your pardon, Majesty – I do wonder whether this apparent emergency might be being used to take our rights away, and leave us helpless before the future's crown."

"Milord," Sam said, "I'm sure that any ruler, except Her Majesty, would find you too formidable to attempt any such thing."

Lord Cooper smiled. "Nicely said. But why am I not comforted?"

"Why, because you are alert to your interest, sir."

"As I am, Monroe," Sayre said.

"Yes – both alert to your interests, as all river lords will be. Which is why I have no doubt at all that the units of East-bank army – now concentrating above Girardeau – will receive drafts of five hundred men-at-arms from every major estate on the river. And have no doubt also that six hundred barrels of barley grain, six hundred crates of dug potatoes, and two hundred crates of iced chicken-birds or fish will be delivered immediately from each estate – or proof positive shown why that cannot be done… The estate that withholds, will be fined in acres forfeit to the Crown – and those acres never returned."

Silence.

" – And this, milords, not punitive, but absolutely in your families' interests, since, should he win, the Khan will take care to destroy you and yours. Despite, by the way, any secret assurances his… emissaries… may have made to the contrary. Unlike Her Majesty, Toghrul will never allow the existence of any independence."

"So," Sayre said, "you grant us this… benefit."

"Yes, milord. And in addition – since the river lords are to be so generous – neither the Crown nor the armies, nor the Fleet, nor the people-Ordinary, will demand their heads for treason."

"… Such favors," Lord Cooper said. "How will we ever repay them?"

"I dread discovering that, sir," Sam said, to some amusement around the table. "And now, gentlemen, if Her Majesty and Princess Rachel will bear with us, we have the tedious professional questions of Warm-times' logistics – timing, transport, and supply." A stir of staff officers and aides, rustling paper turned to fresh pages. "Leaving aside my army, since supplies, remounts, and reserves should already be coming behind it, how can we get onto the river ice south of Lemay 'fustest with the mostest'?"

Smiles at that around the table. No soldier, no sailor, but knew that fine Warm-time phrase.

… Three hours later, a stack of written orders in various scribbles – dire and demanding news to executive officers, supply officers, field commanders, ships' captains, civilian sutlers, shipyard owners, and the accomplished of many guilds – stood before the Queen.

She put her hand on top of the stack, riffled through the pages with her thumb. "Well-enough. Not too much nonsense here." Then she stood, and everyone stood with her. "But drive your people, drive them, gentlemen – otherwise the Kipchaks will use this paper to wipe their asses."

The Queen turned to go, but the Princess stood waiting until Sam came to her and offered his arm.

"… Thank you, Rachel."

"For yielding," the Princess said, "to necessity?" And they followed the Queen and her ax-girl out of the Room of Conference.

… Lord Cooper walked back to the small stove, stood warming his hands as Sayre came to join him while their people were at the table, making certain of hand-copies.

"Cold…"

"Yes. She won't have this chamber heated."

"And your opinion, Cooper?"

"My opinion… My opinion is that we have no choice but to give our men and our goods, while giving is in fashion."

"Obviously. I meant, your opinion."

"Oh. Well, we certainly have a king in all but future's crowning. Then – unless he dies before – it will be… bend."

"We're bending already," said Lord Sayre.

"I'm sick of walls."

"Mother – "

"Sick of them!" The Queen was examining short spears, two assags, peering close at the grain of their hickory shafts, flicking their gleaming heads' razor-edged steel to hear it ring.

Martha, on orders, was packing leather duffels with warm woolens and boots, harsh furs… and, in a separate case, two light, nasaled pot-helms – one with gold fluting at its crown – and two long, heavy, chain-mail burnies, both very fine, custom-fitted, and with each of their thousands of tiny rivets welded, not simply hammered home.