Page 72 of Elvenbred

Haldeen saw the point and was very glad it wasn’t he who was bringing it up. Alliard looked a bit puzzled. He thought back to … damn, what was her name … the translator. Her report. Concentrate on that first illness, let the others come to the right conclusion. “At first I thought it was something she brought, which was why I didn’t send her on to you as you ordered. It was only after she recovered that we decided it was something she got here. A child’s disease, I think. A cough and sniffle for us, but it put her down for a week, and another week to recover.”

The Lord Marshall looked satisfied.

King Alliard interjected. “Why is this important?”

The Lord Marshall thought for a moment. “Over the years new diseases spring up in the cities. Sometimes they can be pretty virulent, particularly in the stews, where people live cheek by jowl. There are ancient records of sometimes manipulating those diseases, making them weapons, and using them against other cities … until we came to our collective senses. Now, it’s a section in the oldest of the oldest records on warfighting. Citrine tried resurrecting the idea, using it to see if they could kill the Predators by cooking something up. Like most things Predator related, it failed. But, they tried it.”

The Lord Marshall looked at Haldeen. “So, if your girl was susceptible to one childhood disease that we shrug off, then perhaps something stronger would take her kind out … but be no worse than a few days in bed for us. We solve the spell problem that way, by wiping them out before we invade. We wouldn’t get them all, but we may cut a great swath through them. Unfortunately, the girl died, so you have no test subject.”

Haldeen opened his mouth to confirm he had a subject, then recalled his lie earlier, saying Triana had died. His cleverness in that moment had trapped him in this one … finding a disease appeared much simpler than figuring how to make their magic work on the insurrectionists world. Colonists. Insurrectionist. Scrubs. We need to find one name and stick with it.

“Ummm,” he said, with a sideways glance at King Alliard, “unfortunately, as I said, she died, trampled to death by the women she attacked … so ummm, I‘ll need to find a different way to get test subjects.” He feigned confusion, a quick diversion to actual truth to give his head time to clear. “I don’t know anything about healing or living things, really. Not my area. Perhaps there are animals that live in the cave that the Probe can return.”

The Lord Marshall looked uncomfortable. “How would you know whether the disease, if one is found, would work on the people … umm, the targets … there?”

Haldeen thought frantically, trying to thread the needle of his earlier lie whilst answering the Lord Marshall’s questions, while being closely observed by the king. Time to escape the cleft stick he’d placed himself on. “I did take notes on her symptoms, so perhaps an expert healer can deduce what the disease was that she caught. This would be another area to perhaps share out?”

“This one is delicate, my lords. Finding, making, and honing a disease that has the potential to escape here … what was it you said, Lord Marshall … before we came to our senses? Still, it may solve several problems. Fewer to resist us, and fewer overall.”

The king gave Haldeen the full force of his attention. “Too bad she didn’t survive.”

Haldeen met his eye. He could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down one lid, but dared not break eye-contact. “Too bad,” he repeated, hoping there was the right mix of regret and sincerity in his tone. The king held Haldeen’s gaze for another dozen heartbeats, then turned back to where Pelias stood. The Lord High Provisioner looked tense as the king addressed him. “What is the fastest growing edible crop we can plant?”

Pelias took a moment to reply. “Beastleaf, Sire. Animal feed crop, no point to cultivating it with no animals, but in ideal circumstances it can grow a foot a day. Bitter taste, wears out the soil fast, and enough can make the little ones sick, but you can eat it if it’s boiled soft enough.”

The king shrugged. “Given a good growing season, how much land and how quickly could you pull a significant crop in. Enough to stretch our rations?”

Haldeen could see Pelias doing the math in his head. “Sire, given forty days of good growing weather, rain like we have here, three hundred field workers, and cleared ground, I can get a crop in.” He paused. “That is a lot of ifs.”

The king nodded once, acknowledging the point, but pressing on. “Time is different there, eight days there to one here?”

“Ten, Sire,” Haldeen corrected.

“Better and better, Haldeen,” King Alliard replied. “So, with forty days there, and four here … we can solve the food problem?”

The Lord Provisioner, wary of a promise he had no capacity to keep, sighed. “Once we get past the ‘if’s’ and the logistics, my king, then yes.”

“If we can get the Portal working well enough to transport three hundred people without incident. But they would also need support workers, something to live in, and food of their own. And possibly guards. So, make that four hundred workers. If they can be spared.” Haldeen was almost—almost—annoyed that the king had thought of the same answer he had. “Some of the workers on my ration line are able to make the bars taste better. Would it make sense to take someone who can only make one bar a day and assign them to taking the toxins out of Beastleaf instead?” Haldeen hazarded. “People might prefer it to ration bars, then, just because it is different.”

Alliard’s temper did flare then. “I don’t give a fig whether they ‘like’ it, Lord Gatekeeper. I care only that it keeps them alive.” He leaned into a side table. “Do you know what Amethyst is going to do once the food runs out there? Do you? The leaders, the breeders—fertile women— and the feeders, along with the troops, will be evacuated to the Stone Keeps and the High Hills. The rest of the citizens will be given a choice … a pill to end it quickly, or wait it out, in the hope that help might come.”

King Alliard took a deep breath then. “And not everyone will be evacuated, either, given too many people and not enough time. The best we can hope for is a quick conquest of that land, a fast growing crop, and the ability to move enough food back through to feed those who remain, while we hope … hope … the Predators don’t wipe out those left behind, as most of our strength will be in establishing ourselves there.”

Haldeen watched in wary silence as the king’s anger faded, replaced by weariness.

“Now leave me, my lords. Go, do your duty. Pelias, send the High Lord Kaeltwyn in. I need to confer with him before we go and overcome six kings’ reluctance to act. And Haldeen?”

Haldeen had already started for the door, eager to escape, when King Alliard’s voice called him back. “Yes, Sire?”

“Kaeltwyn’s lads are waiting for you. Go with them, and do as I bid.”

Haldeen bowed. “Yes, my king.”

16

N

Triana finished her bowl of gruel, carefully licked out the last few bits and looked over at the … whatever it was. “Well, it’s been three days … sleeps rather … and I can’t think of anything better, so ‘Rock’ it is. If you’d rather be called something else, then feel free to chime in.”