Harry Turtledove - Jaws of Darkness

“I will,” Fernao said. Looking discontented, the Kuusaman mage went back to her desk. Fernao murmured the charm that would link this crystal to the one in Grandmaster Pinhiero’s office back in Setubal. As the crystal activated, light flared inside it. A moment later, Pinhiero’s image filled the glass globe.

“Who’s that?” the Grandmaster said, peering into his own crystal. Then he recognized Fernao. “Ah, it’s you. What do you want? What sort of trouble are you in?”

So far as Fernao knew, Pinhiero hadn’t heard about his entanglement with Pekka. Fernao hadn’t told him, anyway, which might not have been the same thing. Pinhiero could learn things from all sorts of unlikely places. Fernao said, “When will the first contingent of Lagoan mages come here for training? We really need our own wizards familiar with the new magecraft now that we’re fighting on the Derlavaian mainland.” Speaking his own tongue with Pinhiero felt odd after using classical Kaunian and Kuusaman for so long.

“They’ll be leaving Setubal day after tomorrow,” Pinhiero said, scratching at one end of his graying, sandy mustache. “The demon of getting them ready, of course, was making sure none of them would start whispering in Mezentio’s ear. Would you believe it, we found one mage the Algarvians planted on us twenty-five years ago? He’d had a past made up that was perfect rill you looked really hard, and he speaks Lagoan better than I do.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Fernao said. “Now-can you find someone to take over for me here? I think I’ve done about as much in Kuusamo as I can do.”

Pinhiero shook his head. “In a word, no. In two words, definitely no. I don’t care if your affair with that Kuusaman mage didn’t work out the way you hoped. This is more important than you, my boy. This is for the Guild and the kingdom. You stay right where you are.”

Fernao scowled. He might have known Pinhiero had a peephole of some sort into the gossip here. “Aye, Grandmaster,” he said, and broke the etheric connection with no more of a good-bye than that.

KingSwemmel glared out of the crystal atMarshalRathar. Rathar stolidly stared back; he much preferred dealing with the King of Unkerlant at a distance to trying to deal with him face-to-face. “We are not amused, and we are not pleased,” Swemmel said in his harsh, high-pitched voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that, your Majesty,” Rathar replied. That, on the whole, was true; when Swemmel felt aggrieved, he was even more hair-raisingly erratic than in his calmer moods.

“They mocked us,” the king snarled. “They mocked us most unforgivably-CountGusmao and in especialLordMoisio. Were they not ministers of kingdoms also at war against Algarve”-he couldn’t bring himself to say, friendly kingdoms -”their heads should answer for it. We do not tolerate insolence.”

Rathar wondered when anyone had last dared be insolent to Swemmel. Not for a good many years; the marshal was sure of that. But the ministers from Lagoas and Kuusamo had the advantage of not being Unkerlanter subjects. Swemmel risked real wrath if he abused them. Of course, even that might not stop him if he reckoned himself provoked enough.

“They have the gall to say, ‘I told you so,’ to us. Tousl” Swemmel snapped, still fuming.

Gusmao and Moisiohad told Swemmel what was going to happen. And they’d told him the truth. He hadn’t seemed much interested in hearing it at the time-he’d actively resisted believing it at the time-but it had turned out to be true. And… “Your Majesty, now that the Lagoans and the Kuusamans finally are on the Derlavaian mainland, that can only help us,” Rathar said. “The redheads can’t concentrate all their strength against Unkerlant alone.”

“That is so.” Swemmel sounded unhappy about admitting even that much. But Rathar had distracted him. “Aye, thatis so. And we shall make the Algarvians pay.” He stabbed a finger out at Rathar; even though it was only an image in the crystal, the marshal had all he could do not to flinch. “Do you suppose that, if they capture the Algarvian pretender in Jelgava, they shall use him as we used the Algarvian pretender in Grelz?”

“I… don’t know, your Majesty.” Rathar tried to imagine the Kuusamans boilingKingMainardo alive. The picture refused to form in his mind. But he couldn’t very well tell his sovereign that.

“Well, never mind.” Swemmel waved a hand. “You carry on with what you have been ordered. And mind you, Marshal-we expect to see results.” His image vanished. The crystal flared, then went back to being an inert glass globe.

As often happened after a conversation with the king, Rathar needed to shake himself to return to the real world. The commandant’s headquarters in Pewsum weren’t so very much, not as the real world went. Rathar got up, stretched, and walked out onto the street. No one followed him. No one dared disturb his privacy. Who would disturb the most powerful man in Unkerlant save Swemmel alone?

After a little while, GeneralGurmun dared. Gurmun, from everything Rathar had seen, had as much daring as any officer needed, and a little more besides. “What news from the king?” he asked.

MarshalRathareyed him. Gurmun also had as much ambition as any officer needed, and a little more besides. One of the posts to which an ambitious Unkerlanter general might aspire was the one Rathar held. Even so, the question was reasonable. Picking his words with care, Rathar replied, “His Majesty is irked at the Kuusaman and Lagoan ministers for not being as polite as they might have when talking about their invasion of Jelgava.”

“He’s got a right to be irked, too, if anybody wants to know what 1 think,” Gurmun answered. “We’ve been carrying the load against Algarve all by ourselves the past three years. And now the islanders are crowing like roosters because they’ve taken on a little? Powers below eat ‘em, I say.”

That held some truth. It certainly matched Swemmel’s view of things. Rathar said, “They haven’t been idle, not altogether.” Gurmun snorted. The marshal went on: “And, as I told his Majesty, the more the redheads have to put into fighting Lagoas and Kuusamo, the less they’ll have left to use against us.”

“Well, that’s true enough.” Gurmun nodded vigorously. “It should have happened last year, or maybe even the year before, but it is true now. We’ll make Mezentio’s men pay, too.”

“I expect we will,” Rathar agreed. “Our edge has always been in manpower and behemoths and dragons. Now it will be a bigger edge, and I intend to take advantage of it.” He pointed toGeneralGurmun. “You’re going to help me do it, too.”

Gurmun showed his teeth in a wolfs smile. “That’s just what I’ve got in mind, lord Marshal. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“We’re all looking forward to it, General,” Rathar replied. “We’ve been looking forward to it for a long time. If all goes well, we get to show the Algarvians what good scholars we’ve been these past three years.”

“Did the king say anything about the timing of what we’ve got laid on?” Gurmun asked.

“Not a word.” More than a little relieved at that, Rathar shook his head. “We’re still two weeks away, more or less. That’s always provided the redheads don’t do something we didn’t expect.”

“They’re not bloody likely to attack us first, not with everything they’ve got on their plate,” Gurmun exclaimed.

“I should hope not.” But then Rathar shook his head again. “No-I should hope so. If they want to waste their substance, they’re welcome to do it as far as I’m concerned. But that isn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then, sir?”GeneralGurmun sounded suspicious. He didn’t care for Rathar’s seeing things he couldn’t.