Revenge of the Horseclans

I

Aside from rare border raids, there had been no real warfare within the boundaries of Bili Morguhn’s homeland for nigh a hundred years, though its armies and fleets were seldom idle. Many hostile peoples pressed upon its borders and the sealanes required constant patrolling. The Confederation, toward which he rode in such haste, was the largest principality in all the known lands. Despite the Traderoads, which were much better maintained there than in other lands, months were necessary for traders to travel from one end of the Confederation to the other. Even messengers of the High Lord, who sometimes covered a hundred miles in a day, could not go from end to end in much under fifteen days.

As a consequence, news was always late, and life moved slowly and unhurriedly away from the capital of the Confederation or the port cities or the archducal capitals. The Duchy of Morguhn was no exception; the peace and ordered tranquility well suited the father of Bili and his eight brothers, giving him the time needed to devote himself exclusively to his lands and his books.

Prior to the death of Bill’s grandfather, Hwahruhn Morguhn had soldiered up and down the Middle Kingdoms with a troop of Kindred noblemen under the command of his kinsman, Djeen Morguhn. Djeen who had gone on to rise swiftly to the rank of Strahteegos in the Army of the Confederation and Hwahruhn had both distinguished themselves at the seige of Kooleezburk. After its conclusion, Hwahruhn had wed the daughters of the victor, Duke Tchahrlz of Zunburk, sending his new brides south to dwell with his father, while Djeen marched the troop off on a new campaign.

As the two lovely girls and their escort wended their way through Kehnooryos Ehlahs, capital province of the Confederation, a band of Morguhn men spurred tired horses northward, to bear word to Hwahruhn of his father’s death.

Confirmed Thoheeks and Chief Morguhn of Morguhn, Hwahruhn had settled down with his young brides—Mahrnee, fourteen, and Behrnees, fifteen—to commence the siring of legitimate sons to succeed him. It had been a very late marriage; Hwahruhn was over thirty-five years of age.

Within the next six years his blond wives presented him with eleven sons. The fact that nine of these sons still lived at the time of Bill’s ride was considered amazing. For despite the best efforts of the High Lord to improve the sanitation of cities and towns, despite his importation of skilled physicians from the Black Kingdoms, despite his establishment of a school in the capital to train Ehleenoee physicians in more advanced and antiseptic techniques, disease still ran high in the Confederation, taking off the young and the old.

In most provinces, few Kindred nobles descendants of the Horseclansmen who had received lands from the Undying High Lord dwelt in the unhealthy environs of their cities, preferring instead their halls amid their ranches and farms. So it was in spacious, sunny Morguhn Hall that Bili was born and it was there that he remained throughout his first eight years of life.

He never needed to be taught to mindspeak, communicating thus long ere he learned vocal communication; nor was it needful to teach him to ride. His uncles and mothers were mightily pleased at these innate abilities, as was too his father in his quiet way.

By the time the lad was eight, his father had granted grudging permission that his heir be given to the care of his mothers’ cousin, Gilbuht, King of Harzburk, for education, wartraining, and gentlemanly polish. Those years of residence at the Iron King’s bloodspattered court riddled with intrigues which kept the Royal torturers and executioners busy and service with the standing army of tough, practical younger sons and mercenaries molded the gangling, big boned boy into the broadshouldered, steel thewed man Bili had become by his sixteenth year. Most of his mentors, noble and Freefighter alike, could be cruel, rapacious, and frighteningly coldblooded toward their foes; but they were generally honest in dealing with their comrades and strictly honorable within their code.

Three months prior to Bili’s eighteenth summer, his father was struck down by a sudden paralysis, and his mothers sent word for him to return, indicating that speed was essential, since his father might not live long. King Gilbuht freely offered him a strong escort, but knowing that a troop would slow him, he elected to ride alone.

Despite rain, sleet, mud, the brief skirmish, and other assorted difficulties, Bili, Mahvros and the mule arrived at Morguhn Hall but nine days after they had departed King Gilbuht’s capital. Only his mothers recognized the tall, hard, weather darkened warrior who, stubblefaced and travelstained, strode stiffleggedly out of the night and into the hall.

But Hwahruhn clung to life and, hearing of his illness, the Ahrkeethoheeks Petros sent a master physician to tend him. Under the skillful care of Master Ahlee and his apprentice, the Thoheeks made a slow but halting improvement. As the planting season passed, he regained limited use of his left arm and some sensation in his left leg and side, but his mindspeak was gone and he could speak aloud only haltingly.

Master Ahlee, the Ahrkeethoheeks’ physician, was candid with the lady-wives of his patient. “At all costs, your husband must remain free from any strain or tension, mental or physical, else he be struck by another paralysis and death certainly ensue. As he is now, it is probable that he never will walk again, and his life hangs by a thread. Naturally, I will stay with him so long as his danger remains grave.”

Bili had been two weeks in the duchy, ere he was allowed to see his father for even a few minutes. Dutifully-for the old Thoheeks’ rank alone deserved deference—the young man knelt by the couch and took his sire’s soft, pudgy hand between his own hard ones, speaking in the hushed tones one uses to the gravely ill. “My Lord-Father, can you hear me?”

Both the stricken man’s lids twitched, but only the left one opened. Mumbling broken phrases from the left side of his mouth, he asked, “Who is … ? Mahrnee? Who is … man?”

Mother Mahrnee knelt beside Bili where Hwahruhn could see her, while Mother Behrnees gently opened the lid of his right eye. Placing her firm, freckled arm on the son’s shoulders, Mahrnee said, “This is Bili, Hwahruhn. This is your oldest son, husband mine. Do you not remember Bili?”

After kissing his hand, Bili laid it back on the coverlet, saying stiffly, formally, “My Lord Father, I grieve to see you ill.” Then he bowed his head, indicating homage, the morning sunlight glinting from his freshly shaven scalp.

Featherlight, trembling fingers brushed his head, then wandered down over cheeks callused by his helmet’s face guards. Finding his scarred chin, they tugged weakly and Bili raised his face.

“Bili … ?” His father mumbled chokedly. “Bili, my … poor little lad … what have … they done … to you?” Then his brimming black eyes spilled over and tears coursed down his pale cheeks.

The whiterobed physician signed them to leave the room, and Bili was much relieved to do so. For tutored as he had been, he considered open display of emotion unmanly and was acutely embarrassed by and for his father.

Afterward, the three sat about the winetable in the sisters’ sitting room. Mother Behrnees laid her slender fingers on Bili’s arm. “Son, do not judge your father by the standards of Harzburk, for the court of cousin Gilbuht is far from Morguhn in many ways. Here, life is different, slower and softer, like the speech. Though I doubt me Hwahruhn has lifted a sword in fifteen years, still is he worthy of your love and respect. For judged by the standards of his realm, he is no less manly than are you.

“Your father’s Kindred love and respect him, feel him to be good and just and merciful. Until he is more fully recovered of his illness, if ever he is, you will necessarily rule here in his stead. You could do far worse than to emulate those qualities his people so admire.”

After blotting watered wine from her pink lips, Mother Mahrnee spoke. “Son, since your return, Behrnees and I have painfully pondered the wisdom of sending you and your brothers-but especially you, the chief and Thoheeks-to-be-for so long a sojourn in the land of our birth. True, those years made of you a full man and warrior. Our hearts were swelled with pride when first we saw you, as you are now so like to the father and brothers we love and remember.

“But as Mother Behrnees just said, this is not Harzburk, and the ways of the Iron Palace are not those of Morguhn Hall. You are certainly aware that King Gilbuht is but the second of his House to rule Harzburk. The grandsire of Gilbuht’s grandsire was born heir to only the County of Getzburk, but he died an archduke, having conquered the County of Yorkburk, the Duchy of Tchaimbuhzburk, and the Mark of Tuhseezburk. Archduke Mahrtuhn, Gilbuht’s father, secretly financed by the Undying High Lord Milo, hired enough swords to conquer the Kingdom of Harzburk, slay most of the House of Blawmuh, and settle himself upon the Iron Throne.

“Consequently, Gilbuht’s capital is an armed camp and he rules harshly, hating his subjects as fully as they hate him. Had old Mahrtuhn been so stupid as to leave any of the Blawmuhs alive, the rebellions would be more frequent and more stubborn than they presently are.

“So Gilbuht considers his most unwilling subjects cattle and constantly milks them of the monies necessary to pay the troops he must maintain if he is to retain his lands and life.”

She paused to sip from her winecup. Then with a rippling of ashblond tresses, she slowly shook her head. “No, despite his wealth and his power, we would be fools to envy Cousin Gilbuht. Nor would we two trade places with him.”

Mother Behrnees nodded her agreement. The sisters agreed on most things; so many things, in fact, that they might almost have been one mind in two beautiful bodies.

“That is why we are now sorry that we badgered your father into sending you, his heir, to Harzburk. For the Kindred of Morguhn will never tolerate the despotism you have seen practiced, nor do most of your people deserve such ill treatment. Yours are not a recently conquered people, son. Through the Ehleenoee line-and do not ever forget, your father and your uncle, the Tahneest are a full three-quarters Ehleen-your forefathers have ruled these lands from time immemorial, and even the Kindred of Morguhn have occupied their station for over a hundred years.

“Precious few of the Ehleen nobility are of pure blood, and all of the other nobles are related to you; so, too, are many of the common people, to a greater or lesser degree. To your Kindred, noble or common, you will be their hereditary chief, not their overlord.

“The true ruler of the duchy, the actual overlord, is the Duchy Council, and although the Chief is its titular head, his voice is but one of fifteen. You …” she began, then queried, “The Council, Bill, the Thirds and the reason for then: being, what do you recall of them?”

Closing his dark blue eyes, the young man thought deeply for a moment, then took a deep breath. ‘The Thirds are equals in Council. The first Third is the Thoheeks Chief, the Tahneest, the Clan Bard, and the two wisest of the Kindred; the second Third is five noble Ehleenoee; the last Third is five free citizens, Kindred or Ehleen.”

“When was the Council established, Bill?” Mother Mahrnee prodded. “And why? And by whose decree?”

Eyes still closed in concentration, he answered, “When first Karaleenos was conquered by the Confederation, the Undying High Lord did order that the Kindred on whom lands and cities were conferred were not to rule alone, but rather in partnership with the Karaleenee nobles and their people. In this way were rebellions prevented.”

Both women smiled and Mother Behrnees declared, “Very good, Bili, almost word-for-word. You’ve a good memory, and that is well. The Council’s regular Moon-meeting is next week and you must, in the Morguhn’s absence, sit for him. Remember all that we shall now tell you, for much hinges upon your conduct at that time, not the least of which is the full acceptance of you by the Thirds.

“Now your full uncle, whose name you bear, has always favored you. So much does the Tahneest love you, that I think should you pull out his beard, rape his wife, and raze his hall, you still could depend upon his immediate acceptance of you as the next chief.”

Mother Behrnees ticked off another finger. “Cousin Djeen Morguhn is, as you know, a retired Strahteegos, as well as your father’s old commander and comrade when they served as Freefighters in the Middle Kingdoms. You won his acceptance last year, when news reached us of your having slain the Earl of Behreesburk in single combat and thus winning your Bear.” Another finger. “Spiros Morguhn has long despised your father for his sedentary, scholarly ways. Talk warfare and weapons and hunting with him and he soon will be your sworn liegeman.”

Her last finger curled downward. “The same holds true for Clan Bard Hail Morguhn. So simply be what you are, Bill, and the first Third is yours.”

She opened her small fist and again ticked off the first finger. “Of the Ehleenoee nobles, Komees Hari and his brother, Drehkos, are your father’s third cousins; further, the Komees’s first wife, now deceased, was your father’s sister. We think that both men can be counted upon to approve your succession, but to be sure, hmmm…” She steepled her fingers and regarded Bili closely. “The way your stallion follows you around, you’ve obviously not lost your touch with horses, so that could be the way. What think you, sister?”

“Yes,” agreed Mother Mahrnee, nodding. “The horses of Komees Hari are aptly reputed to be among the best in all the Confederation and he is justly proud of them. Immediately we finish here, ride you over to his hall and introduce yourself he has not seen you in more than ten years and I doubt he would see the boy you were in the man you are.

“Talk horses and keep your hands off his daughters. Ask to see his herd and to meet his kingstallion. Brag of your warhorse some, then mention your desire to purchase a trained hunter. You’ll have a bag of gold; of course, hell refuse to accept it, but the form must be observed.

“After that, my son, it is up to you and your training and your judgment. If you blunder and choose a bad horse …” Ske made a wry face and shrugged meaningfully. “If Hari approves you, Drehkos will usually follow his lead; it is as simple as that.” “The Vahrohnos Myros of Kehnooryos Deskati will hate you, no matter what you do or say! He will hate you for three reasons, Bili: primarily, because you bear the Morguhn surname; secondly, because you do not look your Ehleen blood; thirdly, because, although you are a handsome man and will no doubt set his parts to itching, you outrank him and so he can neither buy you nor force you into buggery. Be formally polite to the swine, nothing more. And should he dare to offer you open offense, run your steel through his body a few times, and fear no bloodprice. There would be none to demand one anyway, for he hates all things female and so has never wed, and he has outlived all his relatives.

“Myros and Vahrohneeskos Stehfahnos, who also sits on the second Third-”

“-are both insane!” interrupted Mother Behrnees. “As is that sly, sleek priest and all the poor, common fools they’ve beguiled into believing their fantasies! If you can believe it, Bili, those two and that Blackrobed ass have all but stirred up a rebellion in this duchy!

“Between the agents of Myros and Stehfahnos and the priests of that cursed Kooreeos, the heads of many-too many-of the Dirtmen and city commoners have been filled with lovely dreams. Those dreams go something like this: the Kindred’s farms and Halls and pasturelands, their womenfolk and horses and cattle and their riches are to be evenly divided between all the poor, deserving Dirtmen and urban ne’er-do-wells, which will bring about no work, no want, and idle luxury for all.”

Bili could take no more in silence. “Dung and more dung! Without work, there can be nought save want. Idle luxury be damned, most nobles labor far harder than any Dirtman or mechanic or tradesman. Why, were it not for…”

Mother Mahrnee raised her hand. “Hold, Bili. You know the truth and I know the truth, Myros and Stehfahnos and the Kooreeos and his damned priests know it But their dupes do not. The common folks seldom see their betters at work, but only the proceeds of that work, they…”

Mother Behrnees clanged her empty cup upon the table. “We waste time, sister, and we’ve damned little of it to waste. Bili knows that the commoners are misled and stupid to swallow such a tale. He can delve into the matter later if he likes, after the Moonmeeting is done.

“For the last Third, son, suffice it to say that there is but one man on whom you can depend. Feelos Pooleeos is now a merchant, but for twenty years he was a soldier in the High Lord’s army, rising as high as lohkeeas ere he was done. His loyalty is only to the Confederation, not to the Kindred or to your father. But because the Thoheeks represents the established order, while Myros and his scum represent only chaos and anarchy, he will back us and you.”

She stared for a long moment at her remaining four fingers, then grimaced and wiped them forcefully upon her skirt, as if she had touched some foulness.

“The rest are all Myros’s creatures. Paulos, Guildmaster of the ironsmiths, is your father’s halfbrother—one of your grandsire’s multitudinous bastards-and Myros has promised him all to which the misbegotten pig aspires: Morguhn Hall, your father to torture to death, you and your brothers as gelded slaves, my sister and me for concubines and so on.

“Kooreeos Skiros would be a bishop and see his superstitions paramount in the duchy. We assume Myros has assured him that such would be the case under his overlordship, so a prating pissant supports a pernicious pervert.

“Nathos Ehvrehos, the goldsmith, has extended so much credit to Myros that he can now do nothing save support him, no matter how wild his schemes.

“Djaimos, who stands for the carters and other lesser types, is both a hopeless romantic and a foaming fanatic. He speaks nothing in public save Old Ehleeneekos, goes about in clothing no sane man has worn in a hundred years, and comes near to starving his poor family because he refuses to do business with any of the Kindred or those who do business with them.”

As Mother Mahrnee refilled her winecup, Bili asked, “But, My Lady Mothers, you have given me the names of but four of the second Third. Should there not be another?”

“Why, how careless of me.” Mother Behrnees slapped palm to forehead, with laughter in her eyes. “How could I have forgotten Andee?” After a sly grin at her sister, she addressed herself to Bili.

“Properly, he is Vahrohnos Ahndros of Theftehrospolis and he is a Kath’ahrohs, pure Ehleen. Though Ehleen by blood, he identifies with the Kindred and prefers the Mehreekuhn name ‘Andee.’ Then for ten years he was an officer in the Army of the Confederation. Rising from sublieutenant to company captain in just under eight years, he was chosen for a year of special training at the Staff College in Kehnooryos Atheenahs, after which he served a year on the military staff of the High Lord, himself. He returned last year just in time to thwart a move by Myros and his clique to legally swindle him out of his patrimony in favor of Andee’s cousin, Hahrteeos Toorkos. All this would tend to place him in our camp. But there is another and a better reason we may be certain of his support.”

She smiled and directed a devilish glance at her sister. “Andee swoons for love of Mother Mahrnee, Bili! He crowds the roads with hordes of messengers and writes reams of incredibly bad poetry, while the cellars of our hall bulge with his gifts of wines and cordials and spiced meats and sugared fruits. Did my sister respond to calf eyes and passionate words, their lovesweat would long since have mingled.”

Mother Mahrnee laughed. “And do you know it has not already, sister mine?”

The woman’s eyes met briefly, then the laughter of Mother Behrnees trilled in harmony with Mother Mahrnee’s.

“And so, Bili,” Mother Mahrnee said at length, “you know that you may be sure of Andee. He is a fine man and-closer to your age than any of the others, and I’m … well, please tell him that I think of him … often.”