Harry Turtledove - Jaws of Darkness

“Pity we can’t be here when they do the job,” Raunu remarked.

“Aye.” Skarnu nodded. Somewhere not far away, a team of his countrymen had assuredly heard what he’d said. He didn’t know where; what he didn’t know, Mezentio’s men couldn’t pry from him. “But knowing we helped, knowing we told them where to bury the egg-that counts for something, too.”

“Reminds us we’re still in the war, like,” Raunu said.

“That’s it,” Skarnu agreed. “That’s just it. In fact, when you knocked on my door, I was complaining to Merkela that the Algarvians were going to the powers below everywhere but in Valmiera. It’s still true, more or less, but we’ve helped make it not quite so true.”

“Sooner or later, the redheads’ll get what’s coming to era,” Raunu said.

“I don’t just want them to get it,” Skarnu said. “I want to be the one who gives it to them, and now I am-at least a little.”

Back when the Unkerlanter attack on Algarve in the north was new, MajorScoufas had called it a catastrophe andColonelSabrino had told the Yaninan dragonflier he didn’t think it was quite so bad as that. Since then, KingSwemmel ’s men had pushed the Algarvians out of the north of Unkerlant. They’d pushed them out of western Forthweg and had fought their way to the line of the Twegen River, the river that ran by Eoforwic. If that wasn’t a catastrophe, Sabrino didn’t know what would be.

But catastrophe or no, the wing of dragonfliers he commanded remained here in the south. He had even gone so far as to send a written petition toKingMezentio, begging his sovereign to send him into the urgent fighting. Mezentio hadn’t told him no. Mezentio hadn’t deigned to reply at all. More than anything else, that told him in how bad an odor with the king he really was.

MajorScoufashad stopped twitting him about it. Yaninans were politer, or at least more formal, people than his own countrymen. The officers in his wing hadn’t stopped grumbling about their fate.

At last, Sabrino took asideCaptainOrosio, who’d been with him longer than anyone. He said, “If you want to transfer, I won’t stand in your way. I don’t blame you for wanting to go where the action is. I want to go up north myself, but nobody will listen to me. Nobody will listen to you, either, as long as you serve under me. But if you don’t, I have the feeling you’ll get what you want.”

To his surprise, Orosio shook his head. “No, thank you, sir,” he said. “I don’t know anyone who wants to leave the wing, sir. That’d just be another slap at you. We want the wing to get what it deserves, and we want to give the Unkerlanters what they deserve.”

Touched, Sabrino set his hand on Orosio’s shoulder. “One thing Algarvians are, by the powers above, is loyal to their friends.”

The squadron commander nodded. “Well, of course, sir,” he said, though in the world at large it was anything butof course. “And the king bloody well ought to be loyal to you, too. You gave him the best advice you knew how, and not only that, you were right, too.”

“And much good it did me,” Sabrino said. “I told that to Scoufas: You can get in every bit as much trouble with a king for being right as you can for being wrong. Maybe even more trouble.”

“Scoufas.” Orosio looked around before continuing. The two of them stood off to one side of the dragon farm; from the beginning, this hadn’t been the sort of conversation for which they wanted eavesdroppers. Satisfied no Yaninans were in earshot, Orosio went on: “I wish we were by ourselves and not tied to Tsavellas’ people. It’s like being married to a dead woman.”

“I know,” Sabrino answered, “but I don’t know what to do about it. If we were here by ourselves, we’d be hereby ourselves, if you know what I mean: no Algarvian footsoldiers for miles around. Out here in the west, we’re stretched too thin. We’ve got to use whatever allies we can scrape up.”

“Yaninans.”CaptainOrosio rolled his eyes. “Forthwegians. Powers above, do I hear right? Is there really a Kaunian regiment somewhere down here?”

“I’ve heard that, too,” Sabrino answered. “Kaunians from Valmiera, I think.”

“Those people are crazy,” Orosio declared.

Since Sabrino thought he was right, he didn’t argue. In fact, he waved Orosio to silence: A Yaninan was trotting toward them. In accented Algarvian, the fellow called, “ColonelSabrinoto tent of crystallomancers.”

“I’m coming.” Sabrino hurried after the fellow. He wondered what had gone wrong now. He also had to do his best not to laugh at the way the pompoms on the Yaninan’s shoes bounced up and down. Algarvians always had a hard time taking their Yaninan neighbors seriously.

All but a couple of the crystallomancers inside the tent were Yaninans. For some reason or other, Sabrino had trouble getting Algarvian replacements. He had to admit the little swarthy men did know their business. Their specialists-which also included dragonfliers-were pretty good. Their army as a whole…

He sat down at the crystal to which a Yaninan waved him. “Sabrino here.”

An Algarvian face looked back at him. “Hello, Colonel. I amMajorArdalico. I want to let you know that I am establishing a special camp a couple of miles to the rear of your position.”

“A special camp?” Sabrino repeated tonelessly.

“That’s right.” Ardalico’s voice was bland. Even the Algarvians who slaughtered Kaunians from Forthweg for the sake of their life energy weren’t comfortable about saying that straight out. Special camp was their favorite euphemism.

“Why are you setting up a special camp back there?” Sabrino asked.

MajorArdalico’s image in the crystal gave him a large, hearty, false smile. “Because I’ve been ordered to, sir.”

“Thank you so much,” Sabrino said, and the major’s smile got larger and falser. “Now be so good as to tell mewhy you were ordered to put that camp there.”

“Sir, I wouldn’t care to speculate about that.” Ardalico was smooth. He was so smooth, he was downright greasy. ColonelSabrino hated him on sight.

“Powers below eat you, you miserable little turd,” Sabrino ground out. “You’re going to tell me the truth, or I’ll get my dragons in the air and knock that camp down around your ears. And if you don’t think I’ll do it, you can bloody well think again.”

He’d succeeded in knocking the smug, self-satisfied smirk off Ardalico’s handsome face. “You wouldn’t dare,” blurted the officer in charge of the special camp.

“Sonny boy, you just go ahead and try me,” Sabrino said. “I’m already under a cloud in Trapani. What canKingMezentio do to me? Send me to the west to fight the Unkerlanters? I’ve been here since you were in diapers. Now are you going to talk to me, or do I pay you a visit on dragonback?”

He wasn’t bluffing. Some few of his own men might balk, but the Yaninans would surely follow him. For one thing, it would infuriate Algarve. For another, the idea of sacrificing Kaunians appalled them. They weren’t really hard enough to fight in a war like this, but what choice did they have when they found themselves sandwiched between Mezentio and Swemmel?

MajorArdalicolicked his lips. He wasn’t stupid, except in the particular way that had let him become an officer heading up a special camp in the first place. He had to realize Sabrino meant what he said. But he tried one last delaying tactic: “What was it you wanted to know?”

“Why are you running up that bloody murder manufactory of yours?” Sabrino demanded. Ardalico winced; thinking of it as a special camp probably helped him sleep at night. Sabrino didn’t care. He had his own worries. Most of them-the ones that weren’t centered in Trapani-lay due west of him. He went on, “Are you putting it up because it looks like the Unkerlanters are going to mount an attack in these parts, and we need some way to stop them?”