Guardians Of The Coral Throne

Chapter 13

The eight thousand officers and men of the Guardians of the Coral Throne were the elite of the Imperial army of Karan, the spearhead and principal striking force in war. In peacetime they lived in luxury in a mile-square complex of barracks, stables, and armories to the north of Karanopolis.

The rest of the army and many of the citizens thought the Guardians were hardly worth their keep. After his first few days in the barracks, Blade began to wonder himself.

Each trooper had the right to a personal servant and a woman, slave or free. Each trooper had two riding horses and a blooded stallion for war, three sets of armor, four sets of weapons, a chamber of his own and a common room he shared with no more than seven other troopers. His pay each month was more than the average infantryman saw in six months or the average worker of Karanopolis saw in a year.

That was just the troopers. The company officers lived like lords, the regimental commanders lived like princes of the Empire and frequently were just that. Altogether, the Guardians ate up as much money each year as the rest of the Imperial forces put together. They were not cowardly or incompetent, at least against inferior opponents. Their fight against the Scadori rearguard showed that. But it had been seventy years since they fought and won an equal battle against a civilized opponent. Perhaps they were worth their keep then. Blade doubted they were worth it now.

Blade did not mind at all the Guardians' right to a woman. With the Emperor's command behind him, he found it easy to persuade Iscaros' slavemaster to part with Tera for a nominal sum. The man would obviously have preferred to charge a great deal more. Count Iscaros had interests in a good many of the Arena betting offices. Paying off all the bets placed on Blade had reduced a good many of those offices to bankruptcy, and their gamblers to begging their bread in the unsympathetic streets of Karanopolis. With them had gone all of Iscaros' investments, enough gold to hurt even a noble of the Empire of Karan.

Blade mentally recorded another victory for Pardes. Who else but the eunuch would have had the necessary gold to finance such a huge betting campaign against the Three? Even more, who else would have had such a good reason?

It was just as well for Blade that Pardes had such a victory to celebrate. Blade's joining the Guardians wasn't what the eunuch had been expecting or wanting. Iscaros himself commanded the Eighth Regiment of the Guardians. Pardes might be wondering if the count would move to win Blade over with bribes and promises, or have him quietly eliminated some dark night.

Now Pardes hopefully would be too busy to worry about what Blade might do or what might be done to him. Blade would be able to spend his time doing what could be done for Tera before the Guardians marched out. The Guardians were allowed to take their women with them on campaign, but only if the women were fit. If Tera did not recover fast enough from her treatment at the hands of Iscaros, she would have to stay behind. In that case she probably wouldn't be alive when Blade returned.

Fortunately Blade also received a respectable sum of money from the Emperor. Blade got Tera the best doctor that Karanopolis could provide, the finest food and medicines, and delicate oils for her baths.

Also fortunately, Tera was not really in bad shape. Iscaros had starved her, kept her confined in chill, filthy chambers, beaten her frequently, and tortured her more than once. But he hadn't inflicted any serious injuries. So gradually the gauntness left her, and her normal graceful curves returned. Her bruises and cuts healed, her dark hair flowed in a sweet-smelling mass down her back, and the hunted, frightened look left her eyes. Thanks to Blade, she was living in comfort and even luxury that she had never dreamed of in Scador and never met in Karan. She was warm, clean, well-fed, living with a man who obviously cared for her and would go on treating her well and keeping her safe.

Blade knew that he certainly did care for Tera. She was something warm, alive, honest, someone he could talk to without watching every word. She stood apart from everyone else he'd met in this Dimension, both Scadori and Karani. She was neither a rough warrior of Scador, nor a repulsively civilized intriguer and game-player of the Empire of Karan. She was just-Tera. That was all she would be, all she wanted to be to him.

He wished he could be sure of keeping her safe against all the people who might choose to strike at him through her. It was a hopeless cause, he knew. But at least he could take her with him when the Guardians marched off to war. It did not seem to bother her that they were going to a war against her own people.

«What am I to do if I do not go where you go?» she said. «By all that I know to be proper and lawful, I must follow you. You march against Scador, with the Guardians. This is true. But you do not do it because you hate me, or wish me harm. The Karani have become your people, for reasons that you must know-«

«Because I am a man?»

Tera smiled. «There are many men of Scador I would not follow, because they are not wise and I would not be sure why they did what they did and went where they went. But you are not like any of them. You are a wise man as well as a great warrior.»

Blade sighed. «Suppose I killed Degar, your father? What would you say and do then?»

«I would mourn him as the customs of Scador say a daughter should mourn her father. But I would not hate you for it unless you came to hate me. We are all still in the hands of the Watchers. They bring death to each of us when it is time, by the means they choose. I would not go against them. Even more, I would not go against you, for you are-what you are-to me.» She could not quite keep her voice steady or her eyes dry as she said those last words.

Blade mentally cursed himself. She loved him with this terrible faith. But he couldn't even be sure of keeping her alive. Damn all the Karani and damn everything they did or might do!

It was fortunate that Tera recovered quickly. Jores VII was boyishly eager to be off to the great war against the Scadori.

«Ah well,» said Zogades, an old sergeant in Blade's troop of the Fourth Regiment, «What can one expect of the lad? It's his first war, and everyone gets a bee up his arse when it's their first war.» Reverence for His Sacred Majesty did not mark the real old soldiers in the Guardians. But nine-tenths of the officers were well-born fops, and nine-tenths of the men were overfed, overmuscled bullies. They could fight quite well, at least as long as they didn't run into any surprises, but not a moment longer. None of them knew enough about war to doubt the Emperor's wisdom.

All the Guardians were going, except those sick or still in training, and so were ten thousand of the best infantry. There would be nearly twenty thousand fighting men, a respectable fighting force in any Dimension. Going along with them would be an even larger number of women, servants, teamsters, baggage boys, and other camp followers.

The busiest man in Karanopolis was apparently Pardes, the Second Master of War. He was around the Guardians' barracks at least once a day, always firing off orders and asking questions, most of them intelligent. Apparently the nominal First Master of War was not only incompetent but half-senile, so Pardes was doing two men's work.

Pardes probably didn't mind doing all the work as long as he got all the credit as well. The huge eunuch was not going with the army, and rumor had it that he was none too happy about this. Why should he be, when his archrival Iscaros was riding off at the head of his Regiment of the Guardians, with a chance to distinguish himself under the Emperor's very eye?

On the other hand, there were equally strong rumors that Iscaros was jealous of Pardes' chance to stay behind. That also made sense to Blade. In Karanopolis, Pardes could keep a close watch on his own network of friends and allies and clients. He could build it up, and perhaps strike a few solid blows against Iscaros' friends while their master was riding off to war.

Blade found highly amusing the thought of the two arch game-players both tearing their hair, each wishing he was in the other's place! It served them both right. Just as long as they both left him and Tera alone, he didn't care much which one did what to the other.

Eventually all the weapons were sharpened, all the horses were shod, all the carts were loaded with food, wine, tents, bedding, women, and everything else the army would need. It was time to go.

The Guardians were drawn up outside the gate of the Palace Quarter when Jores VII rode out to them. He rode an enormous black horse which he managed badly, and wore gilded armor which hung loosely on his lanky frame. He was not an inspiring figure.

Mercifully, he had sense not to give a speech. He simply rode down the line of the Guardians, then placed himself at the head of the First Regiment. His bodyguard, a hundred Guardians in specially silvered armor, formed a square around him. Then trumpets sounded all along the line of the Guardians and away into the distance. As the trumpets died away Blade heard officers and sergeants shouting to their men.

Blade turned his horse, ready for the orders to his own troop. He saw Zogades stiffen in his saddle, then turn and bellow, «Gold Troop-mooooove OUT!» Blade spurred his horse into motion, then relaxed.

For better or worse, he and Tera were off to war.