"Roberts, John Maddox - Stormlands 03 - The Poisoned Lands UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

and noses. The ear and nose rings were connected by thin chains from which hung tiny bells.
"My servants," the queen began, "my lord the king desires of you certain intelligence, such as you have provided so satisfactorily in the past." She looked from one man to another, and each bowed in token of her utter authority.
"The nations of Sono and Gran," she continued, "have been well reconnoitered and my lord is well pleased with your service in these places. Now he wishes to know about the lands lying to the north of there, the Canyon and the desert waste beyond, the so-called Poisoned Lands."
"My lady," said one, a man with a forked beard dyed green, "traders frequent those lands, but usually they attend the seasonal fairs. The populations are sparse, and an unusually large number of traders, prying into unaccustomed parts of the land, might arouse suspicion."
"I have thought of this," Larissa said. "If asked, you aped merely say that you are looking for steel, that King Gasam greatly desires more of the metal and has offered premium prices for it. That is sufficient reason to send traders scouring the land for new sources. It is both sensible and legitimate."
"What, precisely, is it that you want, my queen?" asked a gray-bearded man with a sharp nose. He was richly dressed in the robes of a master merchant.
"First of all, the usual intelligence necessary to an army: the exact location of every last village, populations, water sources, grazing land, cultivation and so forth. Any other resources of interest such as minerals, livestock, hunting areas or people with special skills. Seasonal oddities that might help or hinder a marching army, when the grass is high enough for grazing, streams with a tendency to flood, that sort of thing. And I need maps, accurate maps."
' 'This we can do as a matter of course,' * the gray-bearded man said.
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"My queen/* said one of the Palana, his bells jingling softly, "the Canyoners ..."
"What about them?" she said sharply.
"Well, they are said to possess magic." He glanced at the others nervously. "Powerful magic."
"I do not believe this," she said, only half-tnithfuliy. She did not fully share her husband's scepticism. "However, if they possess such magic, I want to know about it." She gazed around her scornfully, noting their expressions of apprehension. "Oh, come now, gentlemen, do you really think that powerful sorcerers would waste baleful spells on mere traveling merchants? Surely men such as you, who brave all sorts of peril in pursuit of markets cannot have such childish fears." Satisfied that they looked suitably abashed, she turned to the graybeard. "Master Hildas, has there been any report from the men who went in search of the steel mine?"
"Most have returned with little information of value. The desert is vast and hostile. Two have not yet reported in, Ingist and Haffle. They swore that they would not return without the information you seek."
"Would that all my servants were so determined," she said. "I remember those two, brave and resourceful men. Perhaps they may yet come through. How long have they been away?"
"Just over two years, my queen," Hildas said. "The last dispatch I received from them, almost a year ago, reported that they had contacted a very strange tribe of desert-dwellers who ride on flightless birds, like killer birds but domesticated."
"Bird riders!" the queen mused. "The world is full of wonders. If they are not dead, perhaps we shall hear from them soon. As for the rest of you, prepare yourselves for this mission. Glory to our king!" "Glory to our king!" they chorused.
* * *
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"Glory to our king!" The shout echoed through the valley, wrenched from the throats of the thousands who stood rank upon rank in their units, ready to be inspected.
The king and his highest officers stood atop a stone platform dominating one end of the huge parade ground, a grandiose paved plaza constructed by some long-forgotten king. Rows of statues lined the edges of the paving, each twice man-height and depicting a squat, crouching deity with an animalistic face. The king raised his glittering spear, and the army came forward by units for his inspection.
Gasam saluted each unit as it passed the reviewing stand. He loved this ceremony. Never did he feel the sense of his own power so keenly as when he reviewed his troops. They were grouped as to race and armament for efficient handling.
First came his pets, the women warriors drawn from the most primitive jungle tribes of coast and mountain. Raised from childhood to serve first the king of Chiwa and now King Gasam, they could overwhelm an enemy by the mere ferocity of their appearance. Tattooed and scarified, they wore garish plugs through lip and ear, and ornaments dangled from their pierced nipples. Their feathers and animal pelts were savage, but their weaponsЧshort spears, chopping swords and hatchetsЧwere the best Gasam could procure for them. They were merciless in battle.
The next units were for more drab in appearance. These were peasant levies, useful for protracted fighting where high casualties could be expected. They were eminently expendable. They had hide or wicker shields and most had padded armor. The officers wore armor of laced bamboo splints lacquered in various colors. Their weapons were spears tipped with flint or bronze and most carried stone-headed maces.
A contingent from the southern coast marched by. These men wore their black hair tied in topknots, and long mustaches drooped beneath their chins. Each man carried a bow
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taller than himself and a quiver of arrows as long as a man's arm. They wore white kilts but no armor, and carried only long knives in their belts for close-in fighting.
With a critical eye, Gasam watched the next unit canter past. These were mounted troops, cabo-riders drawn from the Chiwan uplands. He had wanted to build a strong mounted force, but had come to distrust both the quality of the men and the effectiveness of mounted warriors. He had seen with his own eyes how devastating were Hael's mounted archers, but his own riders were not born in the saddle like Hael's and he could not duplicate their remarkable bows. He did not intend to depend heavily on these riders in the coming campaign. The jungle climate was said to be unhealthy for the beasts.
After the companies of subject peoples came the backbone of his army: the islanders. These were from a number of tribes, all of them matchlessly warlike. The softness and decadence of the mainland civilizations had never touched them. He trusted implicitly in their warrior qualities.
Last of all came his pride and joy: the Shasinn. These were the people of his birth. Tall men, slender but powerful, with bronzen skin and hair ranging in color from almost white to deep gold. They were inordinately handsome and quite aware of the fact. Their beautifully crafted bronze spears and long black shields were recognized everywhere. Gasam had put an end to tribal warfare in the islands, and now he had Shasinn in greater numbers than he had ever dared hope. There were senior warriors who had served him for years and junior warriors fresh from the islands, their hair dressed in the innumerable tiny plaits of that class.
Gasam was miserly with the lives of these warriors. In battle, they formed his reserve, to be committed only in an emergency or when an opportunity came to finish the fight with a sudden, powerful thrust. They, in turn, worshipped him with a fervor the mainlanders reserved for their gods. In the islands of his youth, these men had guarded the
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tribe's cattle and raided other tribes for theirs. They had been grouped into warrior fraternities and had been forbidden to marry until they achieved senior warrior status, usually in their late twenties. Gasam had changed all that. He had abolished the fraternities and had given his people slaves to do the herding. Now all the warriors devoted themselves solely to war. He encouraged them to marry young and breed as many children as possible to increase his strength. He could never have enough Shasinn.
"They are ready, my king," said a scar-faced Shasinn officer who stood by his side.
"They are, indeed," said the king, with deep satisfaction. "We march tomorrow. Luo, you will take your force through the middle pass. Urlik, yours is the southern pass." Urlik was a chief of the Asasa, an island people who resembled the Shasinn except for their dark hair and eyes.
"As my king commands," said the Asasa. "How will you divide the army?"
"Each of you shall have a regiment of Shasinn; I will take the rest. Luo's force and mine will each have a small squadron of the mounted troops. They will be little use in the fighting, but they may prove valuable for reconnaissance. Urlik, you will take the rest. The terrain to the south is more favorable for their employment."
Urlik nodded. "Good. I have some ideas for their employment and this campaign will be just the place to try them out."
"Excellent," the king said. "Give me a full report if your ideas work out.'' Gasam encouraged his officers to try out new innovations. Having invented his own war-making system, he had no military tradition to hinder him.
By units they divided the army. Nearly half of the army would be under Gasam's direct command. The other two commanders would have the rest. Their task was to ravage the land before them until they reached the river, and then hold position there. They were strictly enjoined to avoid
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open battle and to retreat to the north if necessary to avoid it. Major fighting would commence only when the armies were reunited. The partition of the army went smoothly. The three commanders had worked closely together for many years and Gasam heeded the counsel of the other two. His subcommanders were equally competent.
There was no morale problem. The warriors were eager for the campaign, the peasant levies resigned. Victory would mean loot and a chance for advancement, and none doubted that Gasam would be victorious. Death in battle or on the march was a risk, but refusal or desertion made it an utter certainty. War was just another hazard of lives already hard and uncertain.
Gasam's army marched with minimal impedimenta. They would live off the land to the greatest extent possible. The soldiers were expected to fabricate their own shelters as needed. Even Gasam took no tent with him. Pack animals were few and wagons were nonexistent.
The king left the parade ground well pleased with his preparations. That evening, he held counsel with the queen.
"Surely you will take me with you, my lord!" Larissa said. "I have been at your side since your conquests began, and I wish to stay with you now.''