Read Online The Unwilling Warlord by Lawrence Watt-Evans - Free Book Online
Authors: Lawrence Watt-Evans
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barely tolerant of his new lord, Arl sounded resigned and despairing.
“Captain of what?”
“Infantry, my lord — foot soldiers.”
Sterren nodded politely, appreciative of Arl’s trace of cooperation in explaining an unfamiliar word without forcing Sterren to ask.
“And Captain Anduron?”
“Lord Anduron, my lord. I am your second in command, in charge of everything that Captain Arl and Captain Shemder are not — archers, the castle garrison, supply, and so forth.” He spoke with studied nonchalance, sprawling comfortably on his chair.
“Ah!” That sounded promising, especially once Alder and Lord Anduron between them had explained the unfamiliar words. Sterren wondered if he could palm off all his duties on Lord Anduron and leave himself to enjoy his position as a figurehead. Lord Anduron had a look of cool competence about him that Sterren hoped was not mere affectation. “How many archers are there?” he asked.
Lord Anduron’s reply burst Sterren’s bubble instantly.
“None, at present,” he said calmly.
“None?”
“None. We’ve had no need of any for forty years, after all; archers aren’t particularly impressive in parades or display, and bow-wood is expensive. Old Sterren — that is, your esteemed predecessor, the Eighth Warlord — allowed all the old archers to retire, and left it to me, or my father before me, to replace them, and we didn’t trouble to do so. If we need archers, I’m sure we can find and train them quickly.”
“Ah.” Sterren tried to look wise and understanding, although he had missed several words, and was fairly certain that training a competent archer took a good deal more time and effort than Lord Anduron thought — especially if there were no trained archers around to serve as teachers. “What about the castle . . . garrison? Is that the word?”
“My lord speaks Semmat like a native, of course,” Lord Anduron said. Shemder interrupted him with a quickly-suppressed burst of derisive laughter. Lord Anduron cast him a cold glance, then went on, “The castle garrison, my lord, is composed of whoever happens to be inside the castle at the time of an attack.”
“I see — you mean the nobles, and the servants, and so on?”
“Why, no, Lord Sterren, of course not. One could hardly expect the nobility to soil their hands with the hauling about of gates and bars, or hurling stones, and the servants will have their normal duties to perform. No, I mean whatever villagers reach the shelter of the castle walls in time.”
Sterren stared at Lord Anduron for a moment, then decided argument would do no good, most particularly in his limited Semmat. He turned his head and asked, “Captain Shemder, how many men and horses do you have?”
“Twenty men, my lord, and twelve horses,” Shemder replied promptly and proudly.
Sterren realized with a shock that his escort into the castle had been most of the cavalrymen in the entire kingdom — and all the cavalry’s horses.
“Captain Arl?”
“At present, Lord Sterren, I have sixty-five men and boys, all fully armed, well-trained, and ready for anything.”
Sterren somehow doubted that the Semman infantry was ready for anything. What, he wondered, would they do in the face of an attack by the overlord of Ethshar of the Spices? Azrad VII had ten thousand men in his city guard alone. He could overwhelm Semma completely with a tenth of his soldiery, without calling on any of his more important resources — the militia, the navy, his magicians, the other two-thirds of the Ethsharitic triumvirate, and so on.
But these were the Small Kingdoms, and things were obviously different here.
The three officers all seemed very confident, certainly, and they surely knew more of the situation than he, a foreigner, did.
Even so, eighty-five men and a few frightened refugees did not seem like a very large force for a castle the size of Semma’s.
“Lord Anduron,” he asked, “what about magic?”
The young
“Captain of what?”
“Infantry, my lord — foot soldiers.”
Sterren nodded politely, appreciative of Arl’s trace of cooperation in explaining an unfamiliar word without forcing Sterren to ask.
“And Captain Anduron?”
“Lord Anduron, my lord. I am your second in command, in charge of everything that Captain Arl and Captain Shemder are not — archers, the castle garrison, supply, and so forth.” He spoke with studied nonchalance, sprawling comfortably on his chair.
“Ah!” That sounded promising, especially once Alder and Lord Anduron between them had explained the unfamiliar words. Sterren wondered if he could palm off all his duties on Lord Anduron and leave himself to enjoy his position as a figurehead. Lord Anduron had a look of cool competence about him that Sterren hoped was not mere affectation. “How many archers are there?” he asked.
Lord Anduron’s reply burst Sterren’s bubble instantly.
“None, at present,” he said calmly.
“None?”
“None. We’ve had no need of any for forty years, after all; archers aren’t particularly impressive in parades or display, and bow-wood is expensive. Old Sterren — that is, your esteemed predecessor, the Eighth Warlord — allowed all the old archers to retire, and left it to me, or my father before me, to replace them, and we didn’t trouble to do so. If we need archers, I’m sure we can find and train them quickly.”
“Ah.” Sterren tried to look wise and understanding, although he had missed several words, and was fairly certain that training a competent archer took a good deal more time and effort than Lord Anduron thought — especially if there were no trained archers around to serve as teachers. “What about the castle . . . garrison? Is that the word?”
“My lord speaks Semmat like a native, of course,” Lord Anduron said. Shemder interrupted him with a quickly-suppressed burst of derisive laughter. Lord Anduron cast him a cold glance, then went on, “The castle garrison, my lord, is composed of whoever happens to be inside the castle at the time of an attack.”
“I see — you mean the nobles, and the servants, and so on?”
“Why, no, Lord Sterren, of course not. One could hardly expect the nobility to soil their hands with the hauling about of gates and bars, or hurling stones, and the servants will have their normal duties to perform. No, I mean whatever villagers reach the shelter of the castle walls in time.”
Sterren stared at Lord Anduron for a moment, then decided argument would do no good, most particularly in his limited Semmat. He turned his head and asked, “Captain Shemder, how many men and horses do you have?”
“Twenty men, my lord, and twelve horses,” Shemder replied promptly and proudly.
Sterren realized with a shock that his escort into the castle had been most of the cavalrymen in the entire kingdom — and all the cavalry’s horses.
“Captain Arl?”
“At present, Lord Sterren, I have sixty-five men and boys, all fully armed, well-trained, and ready for anything.”
Sterren somehow doubted that the Semman infantry was ready for anything. What, he wondered, would they do in the face of an attack by the overlord of Ethshar of the Spices? Azrad VII had ten thousand men in his city guard alone. He could overwhelm Semma completely with a tenth of his soldiery, without calling on any of his more important resources — the militia, the navy, his magicians, the other two-thirds of the Ethsharitic triumvirate, and so on.
But these were the Small Kingdoms, and things were obviously different here.
The three officers all seemed very confident, certainly, and they surely knew more of the situation than he, a foreigner, did.
Even so, eighty-five men and a few frightened refugees did not seem like a very large force for a castle the size of Semma’s.
“Lord Anduron,” he asked, “what about magic?”
The young
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