Текст книги " Lethal Heritage "
Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
Justin nodded. "Our JumpShip assets are in position to move quickly. We can deliver troops to the rim more quickly than the Combine can. I've already sent orders for mercenary units under contract to head toward the rim. If we're lucky, they can form a firebreak to slow the invaders."
"What about the Eridani Light Horse?" Hanse asked. "Are they willing to move before the ink is dry on the new contract?"
"Yes, sire. I had confirmation of compliance with the orders from them earlier today." Justin half-closed his eyes. "I also had a request from my brother Daniel to move the Kell Hounds toward the rim. I don't know where Dan, got the information, but there seems to be no question that the invaders were responsible for Phelan Kell's death out in the Periphery. I gave him permission to move both regiments to Sudeten, as I thought that would be a good rendezvous world for whatever forces we're going to send north."
The Prince smiled appreciatively. "Excellent thinking. Any word from Jaime Wolf?"
"No reply to the message I sent two weeks ago. I do know, however, that Epsilon and Zeta Regiments have been withdrawn from their duty posts in Andurien, and Thomas Marik is rather upset that he was not warned about it. They appear bound for Outreach."
"I see." The Prince sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Wolf's calling his people home for some kind of meeting, I suspect. When they make a decision, we'll hear about it." Hanse paused as he studied the map. "Issue orders for the first Kathil Uhlans and all the Deneb, Arcturan Guard, Lyran Guard, Royal Guard, and F-C Regiments from Skye March to depart for Sudeten. Let Morgan know he's in charge of this Army group and route Victor to Sudeten. We'll move troops from the Crucis March up to reinforce the Terran corridor and Skye."
The Prince caught himself as his wife's silence and the flash of pain in Justin's eyes finally registered on his brain. "Forgive me, Justin, for asking you to issue that order. I know your son is in the Tenth Lyran Guards."
The Secretary raised his head proudly. "I am certain he will serve you well, my Prince."
"Of that I have no doubt, Justin Allard." The Prince's eyes narrowed. "But I recall a time twenty-three years ago when I told your father to order another man to kill you. Both he and I knew that issuing such an order was the only way to keep you alive while you were under cover, but I know how difficult it was for your father. I never imagined I'd have to put anyone else through that again."
Melissa looked up at him. "Then why do you put yourself through it?"
Hanse took her hands in his. "I can order Victor to meet with Morgan on Sudeten with a clear heart. You and I know that he would never accept being left out of the planning. He would be there—with or without orders, so forbidding him to join the fight would be no good. I think it is better to let him knowwe have confidence in him than to have him imagine we do not."
21
Jump Ship Dire Wolf , L-5 Orbit
New Bergen, Rasalhague Province, Free Rasalhague Republic
3 May 3050
Phelan Kell jabbed Griffin Picon in the side with his elbow. "Don't watch me, Griff. Watch the stravagdoor!"
The shorter, broadly built blond man grunted with the blow and turned his attention to the closed portal to the bondsmen's dormitory. "You're learning to curse in the Clanner's tongue quickly enough, Kell. Come a time we won't be able to tell you from them. How much longer will it be?"
"Not long, and if you'd been cursed as a malingerer as much as me, you'd quickly pick up the words, too!"
Griff laughed. "Yeah, that Vlad really has it in for you, doesn't he?"
"Quineg, Griff. You're supposed to end a question like that with 'quineg' if you want to speak like a Clanner."
"And you are not to use contractions, Phelan," the pirate reminded him. "And, all quinegs aside, that Vlad's hatred for you goes bone-deep."
"All because I ruined the paint job on his 'Mech." Phelan snapped a chip down into the circuit board, then fitted it inside a gray petrochem box just slightly larger than a pack of cards. He slid the cover from beneath the corded loop on his wrist and settled it in place with a click, then palmed the device. "There. Got it."
Griff glanced back over his shoulder at the mercenary. "You sure that thing will work?" After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Quiaff?"
Phelan crossed to his bunk and slipped the slender box inside his mattress. "Aff. I fixed up two of their audiosensitive locks on a work detail last week. Their Tech was so impressed with my skill—" Phelan rolled his eyes to heaven– "that he even showed me how to burn eproms down in the workshop."
The former Periphery pirate made no attempt to hide his confusion. "Eproms?"
Phelan half-smiled. So much of what the Clans have on this JumpShip is lostech in the Successor States. I've heard of burning programs into computer chips, but that's only because of my father's friend, Clovis Holstein. Clovis showed me how to do it, but the machine he used was a monster with only a quarter of the features of the one down in the maintenance bays here. With equipment like that, it's no wonder their 'Mechs are so superior to ours.
"An eprom is a computer chip. It holds the program—the information and instructions—that makes machinery work. What I did was to create a program that will cycle through all possible lock combinations, starting with two numbers and working up until the lock opens. The little lights on the box show you how many numbers are being checked in the current series."
Griff shook his head. "You amaze me, kid. In my day, all I had to know about chips was that if one went bad in my 'Mech, I had to steal a whole board from another machine to make it right. But you say that thing will get us into the bondswomen's area?"
Phelan nodded solemnly. "I have to do some soldering next time I'm in the shop and get some power cells for it. But after that, if the door has a lock, this will open it."
Griff clapped his hands once, sharply. "Yeah! Won't everyone be happy to hear that? I haven't seen my little Marianna in far too long ... What's wrong?"
The young Mech Warrior forced the sour look from his face. "I don't mind you knowing about this lockpick. You're responsible, and I appreciate your keeping the others off me when Ulric transferred me into this dorm." Phelan looked around at the large room filled with bunks whose blankets were a shade deeper than the prison gray of the wall and the cold metal deck. Tossing me in with this pack of pirates could have been a mistake, but I don't think Ulric makes many of those. I suspect he wanted to see if I could survive in this viper pit.
Phelan sighed. "I just don't want Kenny Ryan getting his hands on it. His turbolift doesn't quite make it to the bridge, if you know what I mean. He'd want to use my lockpick to get into the armory or the 'Mech bays or the bridge, which would cause real trouble."
Griff's green eyes widened. "It could get us into those places?"
The Kell Hound nodded. "As I said, if it has a sonic lock, this will get you in. Still, those places have guards and are very secure. I wouldn't mind if Kenny got his head toasted by a laser bolt or two, but I'd hate to think of the other casualties ... You and I both know he wouldn't have the guts to go alone. The only reason Kenny became leader was because he saw which way you all wanted to go and jumped out in front."
The door suddenly opened, cutting off any comment from Griff. Ranna's smile died a little at seeing the pirate, but not completely. "Phelan," she said, "the Khan requests your presence."
Phelan stood up quickly and straightened his jumpsuit. He didn't realize how hard his heart was pounding until he noticed the bemused expression on Griff's face. That made Phelan blush, and the pirate smiled even more broadly. She's smart and pretty and a MechWarrior, and, dammit, I like her. Why should I be embarrassed? I'm not betraying them, am I?
Griff winked at Ranna. "Now don't keep him out until all hours. The boy needs his rest if he's going to do his work."
Ranna tried to look stern, but her eyes revealed amusement. "Work. Now that is a novel concept for you. I thought the lot of you were supposed to be painting Storage Bay Seven. I can check on mat."
Griff held up his hands. "I was just heading down there."
He glanced at Phelan. "Don't embarrass us, kid. Remember not to slurp your tea."
The mercenary smiled cruelly. "Don't worry, this ain't the Periphery. They actually give us cups."
Griff laughed and slipped past Ranna at the door. The Clans-woman kept the disapproving look on her face until he had passed, then her facade also dissolved into laughter. Phelan threaded his way between bunks and followed her out into the corridor.
"Do you know what the Khan wants, Ranna, or do I just have to wait and see?"
She shook her head, then tucked her hands into the pockets of her navy jumpsuit. She fished around for a moment, her expression becoming annoyed. Then she patted her chest pockets, still not finding what she sought. "How could I forget my remote?" she asked irritably, more to herself than Phelan. She turned to him as they reached the turbolift. "We'll have to take a short detour. I left something in my quarters."
She punched the button summoning the lift. Once inside, she directed the box up four levels, punched in the entry code, then ushered Phelan along a corridor marked by a shield and a blue-white ball icon. When they came to a door marked by a wolf's-head and a single, red dagger-star beneath it, she keyed a series of five numbers into the lock panel. Tones sounded out, but came too quickly for Phelan to identify them. The door slid to the left, then shut silently after they entered.
Phelan looked around. The room is smaller than the Khan's suite, to be sure, yet doesn't feel cramped.The foyer, with a mirrored closet to the left and hatchway into a lavatory to the right, opened onto a small living room. A drafting table took up the far left corner, and surrounding it, Phelan saw pens, pencils, brushes, paints, and other artist's tools. Paintings hung on each wall, and though they used different colors and were of vastly different subjects, Phelan noted elements of style that bound them all together.
Ranna passed through a hatchway in the living room's right wall and disappeared into what Phelan assumed was her bedchamber. He crossed to the far wall and stared closely at a landscape in tones of purple and red. The use of blurred lines gave the impression that the subject of the painting was a hellishly hot place. Above the highest mountains, the cold blackness of space and the brilliant, diamondlike stars looked like a sanctuary, but somehow Phelan read a reluctance to leave the world for the boundless void between the stars.
She called to him from the doorway. "Do you like it?"
"I'm not sure that I'm supposed to like it. It reminds me of the first time I shipped out from Arc-Royal with the Hounds and realized what it meant to be leaving the world where I was born. I was only five at the time. I felt enthusiastic because it was a great adventure, but I also didn't want to leave my grandparents and cousins behind." Phelan turned to face her. "I wanted to go, but I also dreaded it, quiaff?"
Ranna nodded. "Aff, I think I have some understanding. That is a landscape from the world where I grew up. I felt great sadness in leaving. But you mentioned cousins ..."
Phelan smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's what I called them. They weren't first cousins, of course, because I didn't have any—I mean, that was years before we found out about Chris. They were just the folks I grew up with on ArcRoyal."
She smiled as what he was saying finally seemed to dawn on her. "Ah, your sibko. I can understand why you were reluctant to leave them. Fortunately for me, my sibko has traveled with me, or I with it, as it were."
The Kell Hound looked over at Ranna and shook his head. "Somehow I wouldn't have figured you for an artist." Ranna started to object, but he held up his hand to forestall her complaint. "What I mean is that the atmosphere around here seems more suited to military than to artistic pursuits. Of course, you're different than the others—I can't imagine Evantha or Vlad painting or writing poetry, if you see my point."
The thought brought a smile to Raima's face. "Aff, maybe I get your meaning, but I am not sure. You have to understand that I grew up with them, so I am blind in that area. It is hard to be sure how I could be different."
Easy, Phelan.This discussion, could get you into lots of trouble.He shrugged, then lifted his right wrist and pulled at the cord binding it. "Except for you and the Khan, everyone else looks no further than this wristlet when they look at me. You see the person I am, for better or worse. Without your help, I might not have survived this long."
A devilish gleam lit her azure eyes. "Oh, I do not think that is true, Phelan Patrick Kell. Perhaps I look beyond your bondcord because you seem different from the other bondsmen."
Phelan raised an eyebrow. "If I may be so bold ... how, why?"
She leaned easily against the hatch's edge. "The Khan's interest in you first opened the door, I believe. At first I resented being assigned to nursemaid you, but now I do not find the duty so odious ..."
"There is a God ..."
"That is one of the things I like about you, Phelan. You have a wit and express it easily. You don't seem to be plotting your escape, but I know you are smart and dangerous enough to have that idea somewhere in your head." She saluted him with a nod. "Most of all, your sense of independence seems to set you apart from the others. You are so much a Mech Warrior that the bondcord will forever chafe your spirit."
He half-closed his eyes, considering her words. She's right. I would love to escape this tin whale, or at least get a message out. Have I given myself away, or is she just very good at sizing up the opposition?
He forced himself to smile easily. "I thank you for your insight."
"And I thank you for yours as well." She returned his smile. "I have to ask you about something you said before. You knew your grandparents, quiaff?"
"Sure. Grandpa Kell's still alive. He's slowed down a bit at age eighty-seven, but he still manages his holding. Grandpa Ward died in the war before I was born, but Grandma Ward is alive and lives on Arc-Royal."
Ranna's eyes narrowed. "Eighty-seven years old? You have to be joking."
Phelan shook his head. "Nope. He'll be eighty-eight this October."
"Amazing." Something squeaked in the room behind her.
Half-turning, Ranna held out her hand and made little cooing sounds. "Nothing to be afraid of, Jehu." A dark creature scuttled its way onto her arm and perched on her shoulder.
Phelan blinked twice and pointed at it with his left hand. "What in hell is that?"
Before Ranna could answer, the creature leaped from her shoulder and spread its bat-like wings. Long tail whipping through the air to steady it in flight, the furry animal flew straight at Phelan. It swooped low, then arced up and landed on his forearm, wrapping its prehensile tail around his wrist. It flapped its wings twice to steady itself as Phelan got used to its weight, then it loosened its tail-grip and walked up to his shoulder.
Its face, hind parts, and tail made it look like a small primate, but the wings marked it as a creature apart from monkeys and apes. It chattered melodically on his shoulder and gently wrapped its tail around Phelan's neck like an old friend draping his arm over the mercenary's shoulders. Red and white stripes of fur on its face made it look comically fierce.
Ranna stared at him. "That is incredible. Jehu never takes to strangers. What did you do?"
Phelan shrugged gently so as not to disturb Jehu. "I don't know. I don't even know what Jehu is, so I can't imagine what I did to inspire his trust."
"Her," Ranna corrected him. "Jehu is a surat. They are native to one of the world's beyond the Periphery. They are intelligent and highly domestic, which puts them two steps above most of the lifeforms in the Periphery."
"Hey, be careful. You pulled meout of the Periphery."
Ranna bowed her white-maned head. "Present company excepted, of course. After all, Jehu likes you, which means your lifeform is clearly superior." She looked at the surat. "Jehu, go to bed. Eat later."
Jehu unfurled her wings and hugged Phelan's head, an experience he found much like being smothered with a musky sweater, then leaped into the air. Ranna turned sideways and slipped out of the doorway as Jehu swept her right wing up and banked through the opening. Ranna smiled at the creature, then guided Phelan out into the corridor. "Keeping Jehu is my one luxury."
Reaching the turbolift, Phelan punched the button on the wall. "Yeah, pets are special."
"Do you have one, quiaff?"
The mercenary shook his head. "Had. He was a dog named Grinner. A mongrel with even some wolf blood in the mix. Called him Grinner 'cause he always had his mouth open in a leer that could turn into a bark or growl or a big, wet slurp with his tongue." Phelan smiled, but sadness crept into his eyes.
Ranna followed him into the lift, then laid a hand on his forearm. "What happened to him?"
"He died." Phelan swallowed, trying to choke back the lump in his throat. "We were on station in the Free Worlds League, very close to the border with the Capellan Confederation. Chancellor Romano Liao had sent a Maskirovka assassin to kill Dan Allard—he was a Major at the time—and his family. Dan is Romano's brother-in-law, and that witch decided to kill his whole family to get at Justin Allard, Dan's brother and husband of her sister Candace. The assassin got the wrong house, and assumed I was one of Dan's kids.
"Grinner came at him like a shadow. He never growled or barked, just leaped and took the man down. I woke up when they crashed into my nightstand and I heard the vibroblade, but it was all over by then. Grinner ripped out the assassin's throat, but the assassin had carved my dog up." Phelan rubbed his hands against the chest of his jumpsuit. "He never even whimpered. Just kept grinning with those bloody teeth until he died."
Ranna took Phelan's left hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. "Your grief is mine. I..." She looked up into his green eyes and hesitated, then looked down again. "I am glad you were not hurt."
"Yeah, that was definitely the up-side of the whole experience." The Kell Hound sighed heavily. "I named my 'Mech 'Grinner' after the dog. Always was a good omen until I ran into Vlad."
She squeezed his hand again. The lift door opened, but she kept hold of his hand even after they'd stepped into the corridor. Phelan tried to read her expression as their fingers drifted apart, but her profile revealed nothing. Does she just feel sorry for me, or is there something more there? I'll admit to being confused and not a little gun-shy after Tyra. No, it must be just pity, nothing more. Remember Phelan, you are an outsider and a bondsman, and these people ultimately are your enemies.
22
Jump Ship Dire Wolf, L-5 Orbit
New Bergen, Rasalhague Province, Free Rasalhague Republic
3 May 3050
Instead of taking him to the Khan's personal quarters, Ranna guided Phelan through a deck he had not visited before. Here the shield icons were more fearsome, especially one of a human figure with both arms raised above its head, a lightning bolt in each hand and another showing a single eye hovering above crossed laser rifles. The corridor itself was kept dim, and a line of red lights at the juncture of bulkhead and deck showed them in which direction to travel.
Phelan realized it had to be a command center of sorts. The dim lights obviated the necessity of adjusting one's eyes to the darkness common in briefing rooms. More important, the martial icons could only mean that behind these doors were the nerve centers for the various branches of Clan service. Phelan guessed that the ship had reached some new system and the Clansmen were about to take it.
The mercenary's pulse began to thunder in his ears. Why would the Khan want me present during an invasion? Even if I can't, escape, why expose me to military intelligence that I should not see? I would occasionally like to be told what is expected of me. The novelty of living like a rat in an experimenter's cage is wearing thin.
Ranna opened a door whose icon was a single eye, and led the way into a comfortably appointed chamber. Once inside, Phelan saw several JumpShips through a large, round viewport into space. Fixed to the walls, maroon leather couches provided comfortable seating. Each of the walls, save the one to his right, was decorated with holographic battlescenes.
The whole right wall was made of glass and looked out over the Dire Wolfsbattle bridge. Below, dozens of Clan officers of both sexes stood around an area containing the largest holographic display Phelan had ever seen. It covered an area at least six meters in diameter, and the images rose more than three meters above the deck to the ceiling. Beyond it, running the length of the rectangular room and side to side, hundreds of data terminals flickered with green or amber light. Down at the far end of the bridge, a giant portal looked out onto the planet under assault.
Walking within the images, Phelan recognized Ulric, but could not identify the dark-skinned man walking with him. "Ranna, who is that with the Khan?"
She frowned slightly. 'That is Leo, the ilKhan. He is a Smoke Jaguar and the current Khan of Khans. He is the invasion's leader."
Phelan looked over at her. "You don't much care for him."
She shook her head. "He is the ilKhan, and I do as he commands. But he is determined to interfere with the Khan's assault of the planet. The Khan wanted either Star Colonel Lara or Star Colonel Darren to lead the attack, but the ilKhan has forced him to use Star Colonel Marcos instead of Darren."
Phelan matched names to the individuals Ranna pointed out from their vantage point. As Leo and Ulric left the holographic area, the Precentor Martial joined them. Then two other individuals entered the display unit. Star Colonel Lara wore her blond hair midway down her back and her fingernails painted black. Marcos joined her, confidently smoothing his jet black hair against his pate. Both looked fit, and to Phelan, far too young to be Colonels.
"What is that thing where they're pacing around?"
Ranna looked at Phelan curiously. "That is a full-sized holotank. Its computers coordinate all the different datafeeds to create a three-dimensional map of the planet below. It can even get down to a one-to-one scale, though it loses some resolution at that point. Mostly it is used as a tactical display, but similar units are used for simulator combat to train the Elementals—our armored infantry. Evantha is an Elemental."
The mercenary watched the two Star Colonels stalk around the holotank. "A Colonel should be commanding a regiment, which means about one hundred-thirty 'Mechs and assorted support personnel. It's going to take more than one regiment to capture a whole planet. Why doesn't the ilKhan just send both of them?"
Ranna hesitated just long enough for Phelan to know she was leaving something out of her answer. "New Bergen—I believe that is what you call the world—has said they only have two regiments to oppose us. Each Colonel will bid for the honor of taking the world."
"Bid?" Phelan didn't understand at all. "Your 'Mechs might be good, but this isn't a game ..."
Ranna look at him with steel in her blue eyes. "No, Phelan, this is not a game." Tension filled her voice and body. When a large data monitor mounted on the wall flashed to life, her head whipped around and she watched the scene below intently.
In the holotank, the Star Colonels shook hands, then left the display. Ulric nodded to Lara and she said something, but the sound did not make it through the window. Behind her, fifteen eight-pointed, red dagger-stars lined themselves up on the wall-mounted data display beneath an icon that Phelan decided represented the Dire Wolf.At the same time, a small device clipped to Ranna's belt beeped and a red LED lit up.
Ranna smiled wolfishly and rubbed her hands together. "Yes, open with everything and see how he cuts it."
Marcos thrust a fist in the air and shouted something, but again the sound was lost to those in the observing room. Beneath the line of stars that materialized when Lara spoke, another line appeared, but this one had only fourteen stars. Lara immediately replied to Marcos, and two of the stars vanished from her line. Marcos countered and Lara matched him, leaving each row equal in length at a dozen stars.
Phelan looked over at his companion. "What just happened?"
The Clanswoman held her right hand up to forestall another question. "Preliminaries, that is all. They are both at twelve stars and it is Marcos's bid."
Marcos turned and huddled with a couple of other Clan officers, including Vlad. Phelan saw the Precentor Martial say something to Ulric, which brought a nod from the Khan and a sour look to the ilKhan's face. Lara watched her adversary through the holotank and waved off advice from her supporters.
Marcos turned and grinned confidently. He offered a bid that removed three of the dagger stars, replacing them with three small, five-pointed, blue-white stars and three green, four-pointed dagger-stars trimmed in silver. The ilKhan saluted that bid, and Marcos stared at his opposition.
Lara's return bid swept away three of the dagger-stars, but put nothing up in their place. Marcos looked stricken, and the blood drained from the ilKhan's face. Ulric nodded a silent salute to Lara, and the Precentor Martial matched the gesture.
"No!" Ranna looked down at the device on her belt as the red light died. Anger and frustration warring for control of her face, she slumped down on the couch beneath the window. "Why bid mystar away?"
Phelan folded a leg beneath himself and sat beside her. "What's the matter? Can't you explain any of this to me?"
She turned to him, staring angrily as though she didn't recognize him. Then her mood softened to take him in again. "Lara and Marcos were bidding to see who could take the world with the least amount of equipment and personnel. Each of the red dagger-stars represents a Star of 'Mechs. The small blue-white stars represent a Star of Aero-Space Fighters, and the green dagger-stars are Elementals. Marcos's bid substituting three Aerostars and three Elemental stars for three 'Mech stars surrendered him no power. Lara realized Marcos had hit the low end of his confidence, so she dropped herself down to nine 'Mech stars. It gives her room to maneuver if she runs into trouble on the planet, and will be a great victory if she does not."
Phelan frowned. "What do you mean by 'room to maneuver'?"
Ranna looked at her hands. "Lara can call down forces equal to Marcos's last bid without surrendering any booty to him. With his agreement—something she is not likely to get—she could call down forces equivalent to her opening bid, but she would have to concede all sorts of things, making the victory worthless to her."
"Oh." The mercenary peered at Ranna, trying to pierce the veil of dejection. "Why are you upset? I thought you wanted Lara to win the bidding war."
"I did." She showed him the device that had been clipped to her belt as though in answer to his question. "It is just that the last 'Mech Star she bid away was mine. While she is down there fighting on New Bergen, I will still be up here."
"Sorry. I didn't realize I was such poor company. I can see how you would prefer combat to ..."
Irritation knotting her brows, she cuffed him playfully. "It is not that. But I want to be part of the invasion. This is the first assault since I tested into Star Commander and I want a chance to prove myself."
Phelan covered her hands with his. "I understand."
The door to the observation room slid open to admit Khan Ulric. Ranna and Phelan both stood immediately. If the Khan noticed their physical contact when he entered, he gave no sign. The Precentor Martial, a step behind him, did notice, but controlled his reaction perfectly.
The Khan pointed toward the battle bridge. "Did you see what happened, Phelan? Did you understand it?"
Phelan took a deep breath before answering. "I watched. I believe I understand. Your commanders bid against each other to see who can accomplish an objective with the least amount of personnel and equipment. I can see how it forces each to be as sharp as possible because, I assume, success in a mission breeds opportunity for more missions. What I don't understand is why you wanted me to watch this"– Phelan searched for the appropriate word—"ritual."
The Khan spitted Phelan with a steady stare. "I wanted you to watch because I want you to understand. I want you to understand because I want you to see how we think and operate."
The mercenary frowned. "I am honored, but how does that make me more valuable to you?"
"You underestimate yourself, Phelan. The ilKhan has decided that because our next target lies near the border of our attack zone and that of the Ghost Bears, I will have to bid against Khan Bjorn for the right to take it. You are acquainted with how your people make war, and from what the Precentor Martial tells me of your background, you possess a most unorthodox military mind. I want you to help me prepare my bids. Our next target is a ripe plum, indeed, and I mean to have it."
Ulric reached out and clapped the younger man on both shoulders. "With your help, Phelan Kell, Rasalhague will be mine."
