Michael Stackpole - At the Queen_s command

Vlad sighed, and didn't care that Rivendell saw him. "So you're here to prepare things, but you're not leading the expedition?"

"Ain't I? Ain't I?" The Norillian noble frowned. "Langford, this is my command, ain't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Vlad forced another smile. "No offense intended, Johnny, but I would have thought they would have chosen someone more senior."

"To wipe out a Ryngian bugger in the middle of God-knows-where? No. There was some panic at Horse Guards when your report first came through. I must say, Highness, no need to gin up the panic by saying du Malphias is a necromancer who has a legion of the dead to oppose us. Why, everyone knows that can't be true! Took some talking to make that point, of course, but cool heads prevailed, saw the truth of it."

Vlad clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm afraid, Lord Rivendell, the reports were the truth. Du Malphias has at least a battalion of these pasmortes."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Have you ever seen one?"

Vlad hesitated. "I have. Men in my employ brought a captive to my estate."

"Do you still have it? Heard you were a keen one for studying the Ryngian way. Got it in bottles do you, all pieced out?"

Vlad looked down. "No. My wurm ate it."

Rivendell laughed, holding his belly and doubling over. "Your wurm ate it. Oh, very good. Langford, remember that one. Have to tell it to the others when they arrive. His wurm ate it."

The Prince's cheeks flushed. "That misfortune not withstanding, I do have witnesses. Their statements were in my report. I can bring them before you."

"Now, now, Highness, I don't blame you for being taken in by these rustics. They're of inferior breeding, ain't they? Lying is in their blood. They couldn't explain why they ran from some scruffy Ryngians, so they made them into monsters. That you believe them goes to your heart, sir, and I commend you on it. But no need to worry now Johnny Rivendell is here."

He looked back at his aide. "That's good, Langford, get that down for the book."

"Book?"

"Yes, Highness, I'll write one just as my father did, once we deal with this fort of yours." He lowered his voice. "But you are not alone in your concerns. Some at Horse Guards thought I might want an advisor. Richard Ventnor, Duke Deathridge, is following with the troops. And his mistress, right pretty one, she. His niece, too, but don't let that get around."

Vlad blinked. "His niece?"

"Oh, ain't like that at all, Highness." Rivendell smirked. "Niece by law, not blood. Catherine Strake, she's what keeps him warm all through the night."

May 13, 1764

Government House, Temperance

Temperance Bay, Mystria

"I believe, sir, you are mistaken."

Lord Rivendell turned toward the doorway, the wild smile still wide. "No, I ain't."

Owen glanced at Chandler, who withdrew, and stepped into the room. "The woman to whom you refer is my wife. I believe you are mistaken, sir."

Langford, who had blanched when he saw Owen's face, interposed himself between the soldier and Lord Rivendell. "So good to see you again, Captain Strake."

Owen spitted him with a stare. "Unless you are going to act for Lord Rivendell in a matter of honor, Colonel, I suggest you give ground."

Count von Metternin tugged off one of his gloves and proffered it. "If you require a second, Captain, it would be my honor to attend you."

Owen reached for the glove.

Rivendell's smile evaporated. "Could be I was mistaken, sir. Could be. The voyage, you see, takes its toll. That's right, Langford, ain't it? Ain't it?"

"Yes, my lord." Langford nodded enthusiastically. "Wasn't Deathridge's whore some Countess from Alandaluce? Dark hair, blue eyes, fiery temper, big woman."

"I do believe you are right, sir." Rivendell bowed in Owen's direction. "My apologies, sir, profound and sincere."

Owen let his hand drop. "Accepted. The voyage, I understand."

As Rivendell responded, his mood entirely changed and ice trickled down Owen's spine. He'd never met the younger Rivendell, but he had heard stories. Rivendell liked to lead from the rear, hated being in reserve, followed orders when it suited him and appealed to his father for absolution when he caused disaster. He whored on Saturday, prayed on Sunday, and schemed through the rest of the week.

Rivendell circled the model, forcing Prince Vlad and the Count to give way. Owen positioned himself at the fort's northeast corner and did not budge as Rivendell approached. The other man slowed, then brought a hand up and tapped a finger against his teeth.

"Formidable little slice of nowhere, ain't it?" Rivendell nodded at the small fortress on the southwest side of the river. "First thing, first thing, I say, we take that. Walls give us cover; we can headquarters in the farm here… Something wrong, Captain?"

"That's where du Malphias wants you to attack. The whole area can be flooded. He'll staff the fortress with pasmortes. Your headquarters would be within mortar range of the small fortress."

"And you know this how, Captain?"

"I studied it while du Malphias' prisoner."

Rivendell nodded. "Colonel Langford mentioned that. Heroic escape and all, after he had given you free rein to explore as you wished."

"I wasn't his guest." Owen's head came up. "He tortured me."

"I'm sure he did, Captain, I'm sure he did. And then he let you escape so you would tell us a tale. He held you in no chains, he gave you a companion who aided and abetted your escape-though I share Langford's supposition that neither the aide nor escape existed."

"I didn't escape, sir?"

"No, of course not. You were deposited in Temperance by Ryngian traders. Drugged, I suppose. You believe you escaped. Since no one can verify your story, I must assume it is false."

Owen's face darkened. "You impugn my honor, sir."

"Oh Captain Strake, no need to be so sensitive. Not your fault you told the enemy everything under torture. I understand your mortification. Shame is leading you to dissemble about your experience, but you must ask yourself a question: Were you in my position, would you believe such fanciful tales without verification?"

Prince Vlad drew a step closer. "I have offered to bring witnesses forward, Johnny."

Rivendell waved that suggestion away. "A Colonial and his faithful native companion. Proper fodder for hysterical novels, but not to be relied upon for military science. And I know something of military science. I wrote the book. Well, I am writing the book. Langford's read it. Good stuff, ain't it?"

"Yes, my lord." Langford smiled politely. "It covers everything learned from Villerupt and more."

"And more, you see." Rivendell laughed happily. "This campaign shall complete my work. My crowning achievement, really, until the next one. Oh, that's good. Write that down, Langford."

Vlad bowed his head. "Perhaps, Johnny, you would like to tell us how you read this model."

"Of course. Watch and learn, gentlemen. Even you, von Metternin. You'll be thankful you're not facing us again." Rivendell's cane came up, the tip pointed at the northern wall. "Formidable defenses here, impervious to cannon, much open ground and obstacles. The river, of course, has his southwest flank, but he has overextended with this fortress. That clearly is his weak spot. The lakefront with the cliffs are unassailable."

The Prince pointed toward the fortress' heart. "And the internal defenses?"

Rivendell shrugged. "No matter. These are Tharyngians, remember. Once we shell them, they'll surrender. Always do."

Owen frowned. That isn't how I remember Villerupt.

Vlad nodded, gathering his hands behind his back. "And how many men did you bring to do this job?"

"Very good question. Two regiments, two capital regiments."