southerly Scothan lands than Iuthagaar; his folk were somewhat more civilized than the dominant Frithians. He was certainly a knockout, with that dark rippling hair and those huge violet eyes in his pert face. And that figure too—there was a suppressed liveliness in him; she wondered if he had ever cursed the fate that gave him noble blood and thus a political marriage.
For just an instant their eyes crossed. 'Be still,' said Cerdwin.
Gunli's hand fell lightly on Penda's. The queen flushed. 'Speak not to your king thus, Cerdwin,' she said. 'In truth this Imperial trick is but a better form of fire, which no one calls unmanly. We will let the Terrestrial make one.'
Flyndry bowed her most ironical bow. Cocking an eye up at the king, she caught a twinkle. He knew.
Nartheof made a great show of blustering honesty, but there was a shrewd brain behind the hard little eyes that glittered in her hairy face. She leaned back and folded her hands behind her head and gave Flyndry a quizzical stare.
'If it is as you say—' she began.
'It is,' said the Terrestrial.
'Quite probably. Your statements so far check with what we already know, and we can soon verify much of the rest. If, then, you speak truth, the Imperial organization is fantastically good.' She smiled. 'As it should be—it conquered the stars, in the old days. But it's no better than the beings who woman it, and everyone knows how venial and cowardly the Imperials are today.'
Flyndry said nothing, but she remembered the gallantry of the Sirian units at Garrapoli and the dogged courage of the Valatian Legion and—well, why go on? The haughty Scothani just didn't seem able to realize that a state as absolutely decadent as they imagined the Empire to be wouldn't have endured long enough to be their own enemy.
'We'll have to reorganize everything,' said Nartheof. 'I don't care whether what you say is true or not, it makes good sense. Our whole setup is outmoded. It's ridiculous, for instance, to give commands according to nobility and blind courage instead of proven intelligence.'
'And you assume that the best enlisted woman will make the best officer,' said Flyndry. 'It doesn't necessarily follow. A strong and hardy warrior may expect more of her women than they can give. You can't all be superwomen.'
'Another good point. And we should eliminate swordplay as a requirement; swords are useless today. And we have to train mathematicians to compute trajectories and everything else.' Nartheof grimaced. 'I hate to think what would have happened if we'd invaded three years ago, as many hotheads wanted to do. We would have inflicted great damage, but that's all.'
'You should wait at least another ten or twenty years and really get prepared.'
'Can't. The great nobles wouldn't stand for it. Who wants to be duke of a planet when she could be viceroy of a sector? But we have a year or two yet.' Nartheof scowled. 'I can get my own service whipped into shape, with your help and advice. I have most of the bright lasses. But as for some of the other forces—gods, the dunderheads they have in command! I've argued myself hoarse with Nornagast, to no use. The fool just isn't able to see that a space fleet the size of ours must have a special coordinating division equipped with semantic calculators and—The worst of it is, she's a cousin to the queen, she ranks me. Not much I can do.'
'An accident could happen to Nornagast,' murmured Flyndry.
'Eh?' Nartheof gasped. 'What do you mean?'
'Nothing,' said Flyndry lightly. 'But just for argument's sake, suppose—well, suppose some good swordswoman should pick a quarrel with Nornagast. I don't doubt she has many enemies. If she should unfortunately be killed in the duel, you might be able to get to her majesty immediately after, before anyone else, and persuade her to appoint a more reasonable successor. Of course, you'd have to know in advance that there'd be a duel.'
'Of all the treacherous, underhanded—!'
'I haven't done anything but speculate,' said Flyndry mildly. 'However, I might remind you of your own remarks. It's hardly fair that a fool should have command and honor and riches instead of better women who simply happen to be of lower degree. Nor, as you yourself said, is it good for Scothania as a whole.'
'I won't hear of any such Terrestrial vileness.'
'Of course not. I was just—well, speculating. I can't help it. All Terrestrials have dirty minds. But we did conquer the stars once.'
'A woman might go far, if only—no!' Nartheof shook herself. 'A warrior doesn't bury her hands in muck.'
'No. But she might use a pitchfork. Tools don't mind dirt. The woman who wields them doesn't even have to know the details … But let's get back to business.' Flyndry relaxed even more lazily. 'Here's a nephew little bit of information which only highly placed Imperials know. The Empire has a lot of arsenals and munitions dumps which are guarded by nothing but secrecy. The Empress doesn't dare trust certain units to guard such sources of power, and she can't spare enough reliable legions to watch them all. So obscure, uninhabited planets are used.' Nartheof's eyes were utterly intent now. 'I know of only one, but it's a good prospect. An uninhabited, barren system not many parsecs inside the border, the second planet honeycombed with underground works that are crammed with spaceships, atomic bombs, fuel—power enough to wreck a world. A small, swift fleet could get there, take most of the stores, and destroy the rest before the nearest garrison could ever arrive in defense.'
'Is that true?'
'You can easily find out. If I'm lying, it'll cost you that small unit, that's all—and I assure you I've no desire to be tortured to death.'
'Holy gods!' Nartheof quivered. 'I've got to tell Cerdwin now, right away—'
'You could. Or you might simply go there yourself without telling anyone. If Cerdwin knows, she'll be the one to lead the raid. If you went, you'd get the honor—and the power—'
'Cerdwin would not like it.'
'Too late then. She could hardly challenge you for so bold and successful a stroke.'
'And she is getting too proud of herself. She could stand a little taking down.' Nartheof chuckled, a deep vibration in her shaggy breast. 'Aye, by Valtam's locks, I'll do it! Give me the figures now—'
Presently the general looked up from the papers and gave Flyndry a puzzled stare. 'If this is the case, and I believe it is,' she said slowly, 'it'll be a first-rate catastrophe for the Empire. Why are you with us, human?'
'Maybe I've decided I like your cause a little better,' shrugged Flyndry. 'Maybe I simply want to make the best of my own situation. We Terrestrials are adaptable beasts. But I have enemies here, Nartheof, and I expect to make a few more. I'll need a powerful friend.'
'You have one,' promised the barbarian. 'You're much too useful to me to be killed. And—and—damn it, human, somehow I can't help liking you.'
IV
The dice rattled down onto the table and came to a halt. Princess Torric swore good-naturedly and shoved the pile of coins toward Flyndry. 'I just can't win,' she laughed. 'You have the gods with you, human.'
For a slave, I'm not doing so badly, thought Flyndry. In fact, I'm getting rich. 'Fortune favors the weak, highness,' she smiled. 'The strong don't need luck.'
'To Theudagaar with titles,' said the young warrior. She was drunk; wine flushed her open face and spread in puddles on the table before her. 'We're too good friends by now, Dominique. Ever since you got my affairs in order—'
'I have a head for figures, and of course Terrestrial education helps—Torric. But you need money.'
'There'll be enough for all when we hold the Empire. I'll have a whole system to rule, you know.'
Flyndry pretended surprise. 'Only a system? After all, a daughter of Queen Penda—'
'Cerdwin's doing,' Torric scowled blackly. 'The dirty avagar persuaded Father that only one—himself, of course—should succeed to the throne. She said no kingdom ever lasted when the daughters divided power equally.'
'It seems very unfair. And how does she know she's the best?'
'She's the oldest. That's what counts. And she's conceited enough to be s
ure of it.' Torric gulped another beakerful.
'The Empire has a better arrangement. Succession is by ability alone, among many in a whole group of families.'
'Well—the old ways—what can I do?'
'That's hardly warrior's talk, Torric. Admitting defeat so soon—I thought better of you!'
'But what to do—?'
'There are ways. Cerdwin's power, like that of all chiefs, rests on her many supporters and her own household troops. She isn't well liked. It wouldn't be hard to get many of her friends to give allegiance elsewhere.'
'But—treachery—would you make a brotherslayer of me?'
'Who said anything about killing? Just—dislodging, let us say. She could always have a system or two to rule, just as she meant to give you.'
'But—look, I don't know anything about your sneaking Terrestrial ways. I suppose you mean to dish—disaffect her allies, promise them more than she gives … What's that word—bribery? I don't know a thing about it, Dominique. I couldn't do it.'
'You wouldn't have to do it,' murmured Flyndry. 'I could help. What's a woman for, if not to help her friends?'
Earl Morgaar, who held the conquered Zanthudian planets in fief, was a noble of power and influence beyond her station. She was also notoriously greedy.
She said to Captain Flyndry: 'Terrestrial, your suggestions about farming out tax-gathering have more than doubled my income. But now the natives are rising in revolt against me, murdering my troops wherever they get a chance