Read Storm over Vallia for Free Online

lay ahead.
    That was — if he didn’t get himself killed in some stupid affray.
    The golden glitter of the pakzhan at his throat on its silken cords told everyone that he was a zhanpaktun. That lofty eminence within the mercenary fraternity was to Logan Lakelmi of far greater importance than his present position as Kapt to Kov Vodun.
    Now he pushed the rolled lists back under his left arm. Later, the kov said. Well, that suited Lakelmi.
    “Jen,” he said. “There is a matter of the runaway slaves who have been recaptured—”
    “That is a matter for the judiciary, Logan.”
    “Assuredly. But I would like to offer them the chance to enroll in the ranks. We do need men.”
    Alloran scowled.
    “Men! They cost gold, you pay them, and sometimes they fight and sometimes they run away. And they get killed and where is the gold then?”
    Lakelmi remained silent. Opnar held a roll of watered green silk in his hands, unmoving.
    “Slaves who show how ungrateful they are by running away must be punished. I hew to the old traditions of Vallia. Slavery is an institution hallowed by age. I could not live in the new Vallia created by the emperor where he has abolished slavery. The man is a fool, there is no denying that.”
    “Yes, my lord kov.”
    “After they have been punished, after they have been striped jikaider, you may attempt to recruit them.”
    “Thank you, my lord kov.”
    Already schemes jumped into his head. He’d have a private word or three with the Whip-Deldars. They would not stripe the slaves badly, and certainly he’d avoid jikaidering them, a savage punishment in which a left-handed and a right-handed lash crisscrossed their backs with a checkerboard of blood. He’d get himself some prime flint-fodder, by Hlo-Hli!
    Then Alloran said with a smile of great craftiness: “But, good Logan, who is to pay the rightful owners of the slaves? Always assuming they do not wish the return of their rightful property.”
    This emphasis on the rightfulness of it disturbed Lakelmi.
    “I will speak to them, my lord kov, and see what may be done.”
    “Do that, Logan, do that.”
    “The fact remains, we still need more numbers to fill the ranks of the armies.”
    “Yes, and I suppose those lists you hold so tightly under your arm tell me of more gold lost with the men of Strom [4] Rosil’s army?”
    “Casualties were light—”
    “Thank Takar for that!”
    “A fresh recruitment should land this afternoon, the argenters have been sighted sailing in without trouble and if each ship carries three hundred men there should be at least six thousand or so.”
    Lakelmi had deliberately changed the subject of conversation from Strom Rosil. Lakelmi knew that the Kataki Strom had provided most of the gold for the army fighting on the mainland. No one knew where the gold came from; they knew where it went, though, by Lohako the Bold!
    “I hope,” grunted Alloran in his offensive way, “there are good fighting men amongst them. We have enough of these mewling weaklings you call flint-fodder.”
    “That is so, my lord kov.”
    “And I need first-class cavalry. And air!” He glared at the Kapt. “What I would give for some aerial cavalry, and squadrons of fliers, airboats, to give me mastery aloft. As it is, every battle is touch and go in the air.”
    “This is true of all armies, jen. We shall manage.”
    After a few more words the audience was finished and Kapt Logan Lakelmi went off about his duties. Alloran threw a bolt of cloth at Opnar and his helpers, swore at them, told them they must find finer stuffs than this shoddy, and went off to eat his customary huge midday meal. After that he went down in panoply to see about the new arrivals whose ships, having anchored or moored up, were discharging their freight, both human and material.
    He was joined on the battlemented walls above the harbor by his nephew, Jen Cedro. The twin suns streamed their magnificence, the air crisped with the tang of openness and the sea