"What would your Kullvordi think of playing a special role in the kingdom of Tekalos, with you as its king? And Varia your queen. I have no doubt you can produce worthy heirs, and your hillsmen could provide your royal guard; indeed the core of your army."

Macurdy's eyes were steady. He didn't trust the Dynast yet, even on a provisional level. "You sketch a nice picture," he said. "Where would the Sisterhood fit in it?"

"We want the opportunity to produce and nurture a new race, free of the empire's threat. For that, we need all the realms from the Green River Valley to the Big River united in an alliance. And for any such alliance to persist and be truly strong, the kings must be strong and able, ruling without constant serious injustices, and the rebellions, and wars between kingdoms, that grow out of those injustices."

"And Gurtho?"

"Gurtho has helped bring us you. It seems that was his function. His talents are few and his weaknesses a liability. Once we have an alliance, we will dispose of him."

Macurdy nodded. She's cold as ice, he thought. What he said next took them both by surprise. "You mentioned vengeance and Idri. Have her killed now, in front of me, and we'll talk alliance."

Sarkia's face froze, shocked ugly. "I will not!" she hissed. "There are limits!"

Ah! Even to your self-control. "Limits? Good! That's what I needed to know. All right, let's look at the military and political possibilities. If the prospects seem reasonable, we can discuss how to go about things."

They met for three days. Idri was always present, her hatred of Macurdy suppressed and controlled but always there, showing in her aura. Perhaps, he thought, Sarkia didn't trust her to be with Gurtho in her present frame of mind.

Each evening Macurdy returned to the inn and his escort, and dictated a summary message for Wollerda. One of his guards wrote it; Macurdy could read Yuultal, laboriously, but its spellings were phonetically somewhat obsolete, and his own quite nonstandard.

In the morning, Blue Wing carried it to Wollerda. And each evening, Blue Wing brought Wollerda's answer. Wollerda was leery of the Sisterhood, but as long as the discussions were exploratory and no commitments were made… What he'd like was an agreement that removed Gurtho without more killing, or a minimum of it, but invading the empire he considered out of the question. It was altogether too strong for that.

On the other hand, Wollerda considered a defensive alliance among the kingdoms very desirable. And while negotiations were in progress, the rebel armies were growing, arming, and training.

31: Dialog

There was a quicker route between the two rebel bases than the long rugged way through forested hills. And with their improved military position, and the abeyance of hostilities, the commanders now took that route from opposite ends, to meet at a tiny, out-of-the-way flatlander village. At what passed for an inn, but was more of a local tap house with a single room for occasional travelers. Macurdy hired it, and he and Wollerda sat across a table from each other, Wollerda's aide at one end taking notes, and a pitcher of sassafras tea at the other. Two companies of fighting men lounged outside, and guards were stationed at the door.

"Invade the empire!?" Wollerda asked. "She's crazy. It's larger than all the southern kingdoms combined, has a lot more people, and it's far better organized. Each of its dukedoms-there's probably fifteen or twenty-has an army maybe as large as Gurtho's; better trained anyway. Then the emperor has the Throne Army, probably five times as large, and there are garrisons in the Marches."

He peered intently at Macurdy. "And you said?"

"I agreed to talk to you about it. What I want to do now is look at all the factors. What about the Marches? The empire conquered them and holds them down, and I suppose it taxes them. What if they revolt when we march in?"

"Unlikely."

"Why unlikely?"

"I suppose Sarkia thinks they will."

Macurdy nodded.

"Sarkia believes what she wants to. I've only been in two of the March kingdoms, but that's two more than she has, I have no doubt. And they were conquered, true enough, but oppressed? Under imperial hegemony, they've grown richer, their conditions of life are improved, they rule themselves better, and they no longer fight each other. There are probably resentments, maybe some with good cause, but the people I did business with-merchants and prosperous farmers-like things the way they are. I expect the rest don't feel too differently."

Macurdy pursed his lips. "What armies do they have?"

"The March kingdoms? Militias. Of volunteers. My impression is, they don't take it seriously. They know, even if Sarkia doesn't, that the empire will protect them. So they don't consider themselves threatened."

"What about the ylvin garrisons?"

"What I've read is, one fort in each March kingdom, with a cavalry cohort stationed there."

"And how ready do you suppose the empire is for war?"

"Hmm. Probably not very. But it could get ready fast enough, if it felt threatened."

Wollerda peered intently at Macurdy. "You've said this is desirable because it would unite the southern lands. And it is desirable, even if it's temporary, because once it's been done, it'll be easier to do again. So I'm in favor of union in the form of alliance, if the terms are right. It can discourage the empire from another attack, perhaps more ambitious than the last one. But to actually invade it?" He shook his head.

Macurdy sipped tea. "Suppose we didn't reach the empire itself." Taking a thick rectangle of folded linen from his tunic, he spread it on the table between them, a map of the empire and the Marches, that Kithro had gotten him. "Suppose we only got to here," he said pointing.

Wollerda examined it critically. There were two tiers of kingdoms in the Marches. The southernmost were the so-called Outer Marches, its kingdoms bordering the Big River. North of them were the Inner Marches, bordering on the empire. Macurdy rested a large fingertip on the northern tier. "If we only got that far before our momentum was blunted, it would still cause a hell of an uproar."

Wollerda looked at him thoughtfully. Macurdy went on. "If, with Sarkia's help, we brought in all the kingdoms along the Green River between the Eastern Mountains and the Muddy, and all those between the Big River and the Middle Mountains…"

Wollerda shook his head. "Not enough. The emperor could bring a bigger army against us. Bigger and better."

"How quickly? Would the Throne Army be bigger than ours? Or would he have to wait until the ducal armies arrived? And how long would that take?"

Wollerda shook his head disapprovingly. Macurdy continued. "They'll hear about us getting ready, but how seriously will they take us? According to Sarkia, the kingdoms south of the Big River have never united to do anything."

His gaze was intent now. "Imagine the dukes meeting with the emperor in Duinarog." He pointed at the ylvin capital, on the river between the Middle and Imperial Seas. "Might it run about like this? 'Mr. Emperor, the Marches have their militias. Let them fight the southerners; it's their land and their responsibility. And if they can't manage, you've got enough soldiers yourself; that's what we pay taxes for. Besides, those Rude Landers will never get across the Big River. They'll be fighting each other before that.' " Macurdy looked quizzically at Wollerda. "Like you said, it's a big empire, and most of those dukes would have a long way to march, or ride. Hauling weeks of supplies with them, supplies they probably don't keep on hand in the first place. Supplies it would take awhile to round up. And think of the expense!