Текст книги "Heir To The Dragon "

Автор книги: Robert N. Charette

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

She rose shakily and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, the gathered officers of First and Third Battalions turned anxious faces to Kincaid.

"This is real bad, Brian," Kincaid's executive officer, Willy Williams, declared. "We're nearly surrounded here, and we've got that damned sand sea at our backs. Sounds like Second Battalion is cut up pretty bad. With Finnan down—even if he's just wounded—the southern front is in big trouble. Donovon in charge ..." He shook his head. "If the Legion is going to be able to concentrate on us here, we're finished, too."

Kincaid knew he was right. The Second Legion was bad enough. If they had the Fourteenth coming down on them as well, it was all over.

"It looks like we have no choice, Willy. Call in the DropShips. We've got to evacuate. But they're not going to like it on Tharkad."

* * *

Theodore and his officers crowded around the main radar screen in the Roccer command tower.

"That's the last one, then?" he asked.

"Yessir, outward bound on a solid burn for the jump point," the CommTech replied.

"We've seen the last of Finnan and his Third Lyran Guard."

Theodore smiled at Tomoe's comment. He put his left arm around her, reassuring himself that she had returned safely from her mission of deception into the Lyran camp. She nestled in close, careful of his injured arm. "What you did was very dangerous. You too, Kerai– kun."

"It saved lives," she pointed out. "By convincing the Lyrans that their position was hopeless, we made them retreat. With one force withdrawing, the others had no reasonable option but to follow. We were fortunate that Finnan was wounded. Had he still been in command, things might have gone differently. We cut the campaign here by weeks, possibly months."

"Sure it was dangerous," Ninyu said with a laugh. "But it was fun, too. You should have seen Tourneville's face when I told him that I used hisname in the Lyran camp. He was fit to blow a coolant seal."

With Tourneville absent from the group, they all joined in with Ninyu's laughter. When they calmed, Fuhito said, "The Lyrans will compare notes when they're together again. They'll see that we manipulated information and made them believe in circumstances that were not reality."

Ninyu shrugged. "So what? We fooled them, and they'll be shamed by it. They probably won't even admit to their masters on Tharkad that we conned them."

"Finnan has certainly been embarrassed by the actions of his subordinates. When he recovers, he will face serious questions from his superiors. Perhaps he'll attempt to fix the blame on his junior officers. Already they are squabbling. In the last transmission we intercepted, Colonel Donovon was calling Leutnant-Colonel Kincaid a coward, which, of course, he denied vehemently while suggesting that she had no idea what she was talking about.

"It will be some time before the Lyrans sort matters out," Tomoe predicted.

"I'm sure it will," Theodore agreed. "We have done well here. Vega is safe. But we have a lot more to do elsewhere. This war is far from over."

34

Seramore Hotel, Noraton, Moore

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

2 August 3029

 

Ninyu slouched into the room and threw himself down into the massive floral armchair facing the oaken desk, heedless of the damage his grimed jumpsuit would do to the hotel's furniture. He peeled off his tight black gloves and dropped them into his lap. Flexing his fingers, he carefully tested the flexibility of each digit. His survey complete, he rocked his head back into the soft cushions.

Looking up from his book, Theodore was appalled by the haggard, worn look of his friend. A year of war had hardened Ninyu and stolen much of his jovial manner, just as it was wearing down everyone around Theodore. Even Tomoe seemed so exhausted when she left in response to Constance's message that Omi needed her. Was it affecting him, too?

A glance in the mirror on the wall separating the outer room from the bedchamber told him it was so. His shoulder-length hair was shaggy from lack of proper trimming. The silly, affected mustache he had worn during his tour in the Benjamin District was gone. He didn't even know if the style was still in vogue on Luthien. His face was thinner, almost gaunt, and his eyes were as haunted as Ninyu's.

"Tourneville is taken care of," Ninyu announced wearily.

"What do you mean?" Theodore was puzzled.

"He's dead."

Theodore sat back in surprise.

"Yesterday I learned from one of my people that he was ready to blow the whistle on your plans to invade the Commonwealth," Ninyu continued. "I was waiting for him outside the ComStar compound when he arrived. He had a coded message marked for delivery to the Coordinator. Chu-iTourneville has had an unfortunate accident."

"Couldn't you just have distracted him? Bought us some time?"

Ninyu shrugged.

Theodore was confused. "Subhash -samais helping us by altering Tourneville's reports. If you could merely have delayed Tourneville, it would have given the Director time to take care of this message. Surely he would not have ordered the man killed just to stop this one communication."

"The Director didn't order it," Ninyu stated.

"What?" If Ninyu had not acted under his ISF superior's orders, this show of initiative might be the sign of a dangerous loyalty shift. Even if the change were in Theodore's favor, altered loyalties were a sign of an unstable personality. The last thing Theodore needed now was a rogue ISF special agent, especially with Tomoe gone. She would not be able to counter Ninyu's actions with her special O5P talents.

"Then why?" he asked.

"I acted in the best interests of the Dragon. We have too many worries to keep that slinking tattletale on our list of problems. Subhash -samatrusts his Sons of the Dragon to act as they think best." Ninyu's face held the hint of a smile. "All of them."

Ninyu picked up one of his gloves, turning it right side out. He inspected it carefully before returning it to his lap. He seemed satisfied, as though his act had restored the universe to proper order. "Don't be squeamish, my friend," he said casually. "It's no worse than your shooting Sanada."

Theodore hid his outrage, but not fast enough. Ninyu's smirk told Theodore that he had caught the emotion and was pleased to have provoked the reaction. It was true that Theodore had shot Tai-saSanada, but it was an impulsive solution to a problem, not premeditated murder. Besides, Sanada had been a dangerous, incompetent commander who had put his own vanity and honor before the needs of the Combine.

"That was different. Tomoe told me just before I went into the meeting with the generals that Sanada was in Warlord Cherenkoff s pocket. The fat fool may be impossible, but he's still a warlord, and dangerous because of it. He would never approve my invasion plan. Cherenkoff would quash Operation Contagion simply to annoy me. He would be happy to reward anyone who helped him make my life more difficult. Like calls to like, I suppose.

"This is too important. I cannot allow the invasion of Skye to be halted because of one man's petty desire to avenge an imagined insult or to curry favor with the Coordinator. If Cherenkoff learns of the troops we have assembled, he will issue orders to stop me. He will redeploy our troops and requisition the JumpShips for less important duty.

"The Warlord wishes to steer a course of dangerous indolence. He wants to sit and pick at Davion, as he has for years. Sometimes I wonder if he realizes that we really are at war. How can my father allow Cherenkoff to maintain control over Dieron?" Theodore's voice had risen as he spoke, his long-leashed anger and frustration running free. Catching himself, he paused to regain more control before continuing.

"The Combine needs this attack. We must strike back at Steiner.

"All through the meeting that thought gnawed at me. We discussed the plans openly, Sanada listening and taking careful notes. I knew that a good officer would do that in order to prepare properly, but I suspected his real motive was to gather evidence for Cherenkoff. Could I let one self-interested fool cripple the Combine's chances? I had been planning to embarrass Sanada before the other generals by repudiating his action in the Jinjiro Thorsen incident. I thought it might bring him into line, force him to abandon his selfish attitude.

"But then I saw the look on his face when Thorsen entered. I could feel his contempt and hatred, and I realized that public airing of my displeasure with him would only push him over the edge, and drive him fully into Cherenkoff's camp. I had no doubt that as soon as Sanada left that meeting he would go straight to the Warlord, who would have scuttled the invasion and the Combine's best chance to stop the Steiner attacks. Shooting Sanada was the only way I could think of to stop him."

"Stow the justifications," Ninyu snapped. "I never said I disagreed with what you did. Shooting Sanada put the fear of youinto the rest of the generals. That's good. Nobody's talked to the Warlord, and with the landings on Dromini VI, they're in too deep to try that now. They'll stick with you."

"I don't want them with me. I want them with the Combine."

"Same thing."

"I am not yet the Coordinator.”

“It's only a matter of time."

"Would you kill my father to suit your ideas of what the Dragon requires?" Ninyu shrugged.

Unsettled by his comrade's ambiguous response, Theodore stood. He wanted to be alone.

Ninyu simply closed his eyes, ignoring the implication that he should leave. Annoyed, Theodore stalked to his bedroom. He was halfway across the inner room before noticing the object lying in the center of the bed. He halted in surprise. It had not been there when the orderlies had left, and no one had disturbed him until Ninyu had arrived. Fifty stories above the street, the windows were permanently sealed. There was no way into the bedroom except through the door to the outer chamber. How could it have gotten here?

He stepped to the bed and lifted the lacquered mask. Beneath it lay an origami cat. "Frak!" A folded paper sculpture in the shape of a cat was the signature of the nekogami. They were reputed to be the best at what they did. Assassins, spies, and saboteurs. Though the subjects of innumerable entertainments and books, few knew their real capabilities. None knew their identities. Ninyu appeared at the door, alert and ready for trouble, with a short, flat throwing knife in his hand. His eyes went wide when he saw the origami sculpture on the bed. Walking softly and scanning the room, he crossed to Theodore's side.

Theodore held out the mask. It was full-size and complete with the silken cords to tie it to the wearer's face. Theodore recognized it as one of the types worn in the Noh drama, but he did not recall the character it represented. The mask's staring eyes and grimacing mouth were menacing, an odd contrast to the long, bright red nose. With exaggerated care, Ninyu took the mask and examined it.

"It is a tengumask," he pronounced.

"So ka.The winged swordmaster spirits of the forest. They were great tricksters. Is this a joke?"

Ninyu held the mask high to let light illuminate its black lacquered interior. He pointed to the two needles jutting out beneath the eyeholes. Each tip was coated in a dull brown substance.

"No joke," he said. "Anyone who wore this mask would die a painful death. This is a hint.

"In some traditions, the tenguwere the original tutors of the ninja. In my year of training with a nekogami sensei,I learned something of the many ancient customs and beliefs that the nekogami observe. They take the tenguas their ancestors, venerating them as they do the generations of ninja who tie them to ancient Japan. The Spirit Cats are very traditional." Ninyu handed the mask back to Theodore. "They are not happy with you."

"What did I do?" Theodore asked innocently.

"You said they were your agents on Dromini VI."

"I thought it would give the officers more confidence. The nekogami are feared throughout the Inner Sphere. If the generals knew we were relying on our own sleeper agents and half-trained volunteers ..

"Just because a strike team wears black suits doesn't mean they are nekogami, no matter what you call them. Frak! It doesn't even mean that they're ninja. You could have said the ISF would take care of it."

Theodore thought he detected a note of hurt pride in Ninyu's voice. "The generals are simple military men. They've little faith in the agents of the ISF and believe commando raids should be left to their own specialists, such as the Draconis Elite Strike Teams and professionals like the nekogami. They would not have believed that I had arranged for a DEST attack without alerting the Coordinator or the Warlord. Since no one really knows how and where to contact the nekogami, I thought they might believe I had somehow gotten access to them."

Ninyu shook his head. "Using the nekogami's name without their permission was a bad idea. One of the bigger clans like the Kageyoruor the Dofheicthewould have been a better choice. They may not be as good as the nekogami, but they aren't quite so fanatically possessive of their reputation. You could have gotten almost as good an effect without angering the Cats."

"I'll be more circumspect in the future."

Tapping a finger on the mask in Theodore's hands, Ninyu said, "You'd better be."

35

Ducal Palace, Kanashimi, Dromini VI

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

15 September 3029

 

"You bastard! How could you sit here and listen to me prattle on about honor and agree with me when you were planning such treachery?"

Enraged at the news he had just received, Theodore swept the visiphone across the taboret. The comm device smashed into the fine crystal decanters and took them crashing to the hard marble floor. Even before the shards of crystal bottles and ancient ceramic sakebowls landed, Theodore had drawn his sidearm. Driven by fury and frustration, he leveled it at the man kneeling in the center of the room.

Duke Frederick Steiner, ankles manacled and left arm still linked to the hobble by a short length of chain, stiffened. Rising as erectly as possible under the circumstances, he lifted his chin and met Theodore's gaze defiantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said calmly. The Duke's eyes never wavered to the pistol whose single, black-eyed stare was directed between the Lyran's blue eyes. Theodore could not help but admire such cool acceptance of the death before him.

The Duke's serenity touched Theodore despite his rage. Perhaps Frederick Steiner was, indeed, a true warrior. Perhaps he did not know. Ever since the Duke had landed at the head of a Steiner raiding force to cripple Theodore's invasion plans by destroying his carefully hoarded supplies,

Frederick Steiner had conducted himself well. He had fought fairly and with great courage, and nearly led his single regiment of BattleMechs to victory against the three Kurita 'Mech units already onplanet. The fervor he had inspired in his men was a testament to his leadership.

Unable to sense a hint of treachery in the man before him, Theodore banked his anger. The Duke had to be a dupe of his cousin and ruler, Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth.

"No. Youwould not have resorted to such trickery," Theodore said, speaking his conclusion aloud. "Your cousin sent Loki agents to cripple the JumpShips of my fleet. Four have blown helium tanks, two have had their solar recharging exchangers destroyed, and the last has lost its station-keeping engine. That one is currently falling toward the sixth planet, though other ships should be able to stabilize its orbit." Theodore's voice rose in anger as he described the damage done by the Steiner saboteurs. "What you fail to do in honorable combat, sheaccomplishes by trickery."

"Get used to it, Theodore. It is the way of things. Politicians will forever betray warriors because what we observe as the conventions of war they exploit as our weakness," Frederick said with a smile.

Theodore's anger flared again, the Duke's smile enraging him. Frederick's acceptance of such an intolerable condition was disgusting, unbecoming. How dare he be so smug while Theodore's dreams to save the Combine turned to smoke around him? His finger tightened on the trigger.

Through the walls of his anger, Theodore sensed satisfaction and a feeling of completion coming from Frederick. Despite all that had happened to him, this man was ready to die to see his state continue.

As much as Theodore wanted to lash out because of the destruction of his own ambitions, his dreams for hisown state, Theodore knew that this was not right. This man was not responsible for the dishonorable deceits of his ruler. Frederick was an honorable warrior, and Theodore could not shoot down such a samurai while he knelt in chains.

Theodore's finger had been increasing its pressure on the Nambu's trigger while he struggled with his thoughts. Honor overcame rage, but only in time for Theodore to redirect his aim. The Nambu boomed, obscenely loud within the confines of the room.

The slug slammed Frederick in the side of the head. The Duke jerked backward, toppling to the floor. His free hand pawed feebly at his wound, smearing the blood. Then, with a sudden shiver, the Duke went limp.

Theodore took a half-step forward, afraid his decision to spare Frederick had been too late. Blood gushed from the Lyran's fingers to foul the elaborate pattern of the carpet where he lay. Theodore let out a sigh when he saw that Frederick still breathed.

Guards exploded into the room. Eyes wide and weapons ready, they searched for any danger to the Prince. Reassured by Theodore's ready weapon and obviously uninjured condition, they subsided into cautious watchfulness. Three slung their weapons in preparation for removing the Lyran. Their manner indicated that they assumed Frederick to be dead. Theodore halted them with a raised hand.

"Send for the Brotherhood physician." He holstered his pistol. When the confused guards were slow to respond, he snapped, "Quickly!"

Two guards collided in the doorway in their haste to do his bidding.

The doctor arrived to find Theodore attempting to stanch the flow of blood. Surrendering his patient to the expert, Theodore stood back and watched. After a few minutes, the doctor stood up. "There is no more that I can do here," he announced blandly. "He must be taken to the infirmary."

"See to it," Theodore ordered sharply, pointing to a pair of guards. He turned to the physician, who flinched back from him. Feeling the tightness of his facial muscles, Theodore realized how grim must be his countenance to make the other man react so. "Your prognosis, Doctor -san."

"The man should live," the physician began tentatively. "Though he might not wish to. I am not sure how much damage there is to the brain. There is only so much that I can do."

"I understand. Domo arigato,Doctor -san."

The physician bowed and left the room hurriedly. The guards, sensing Theodore's mood, followed him out. "An eye," Theodore mused aloud to the empty room. He remembered a snatch of a Germanic legend in which the deity Wotan had traded an eye for wisdom. An odd trade, eyesight for insight.

"I shall see that you are treated well while you are in Kurita hands, Frederick Steiner," Theodore vowed. "Though I have closed one of yours, you have opened my eyes and I am grateful.

"You have pointed out what I have chosen to ignore for far too long. Being a simple warrior, even a buso-senshi,is not enough. Likewise, it is insufficient to be a good field commander. I am the heir to my clan and to the Draconis Combine. I must be more than an ordinary samurai.

"For the honor of my clan and for my own honor, I swear to become all that I must. I will do whatever is required. The Dragon must triumph!"

BOOK 2

Tenacity

36

Kanzijankin Reserve, Deber City, Benjamin

Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

10 January 3030

 

"Cousin!" Theodore called as he rose from his cross-legged seat on the greensward. Even where he stood within the shadow of the trees, Constance Kurita could see the pleasure on his face. His mood was far different from the one that had ruled him the last time they'd met together. That had been the day Takashi banished his son to the Legion of Vega.

She was as happy as her cousin. It was too long since they'd been able to enjoy each other's company. But Constance was conscious of her dignity as head of the Order of the Five Pillars, and she maintained her steady pace. Showing haste to meet Theodore would set a poor example for the half-dozen Adepts who accompanied her. Once, she would also have been concerned at how smoothly she walked over the undulating ground of the Kanzijankin Reserve. Today she glided comfortably, her skirts smooth and undisturbed by her step. Her saffron kimono was set off by the red robes of the jukurenshalike a goldfinch among cardinals.

Drawing nearer, Constance was surprised to see the scar that ran from Theodore's central forehead down to the outer edge of his left eyebrow. He had not mentioned it in his letters, nor had Tomoe spoken of it during her short debriefings at the hidden villa where trusted Pillarines oversaw the upbringing of Hohiro and Omi. The scar marked him as a mature warrior, even more than the Katana Cluster he had been awarded in 3028. Nor was the scar the only mark the war had left on him. She noted his thinness. Any trace of fat had long ago surrendered to the rigors of the field. While his increased bodily strength was easily visible, her practiced eye also noted something more intangible in his stance. Gone was the cockiness and brash arrogance of youth, replaced by an assurance of strength and confidence of position.

Seeing Theodore now, she had no doubt that he was a samurai, and a strong one. She wondered how Takashi could have doubted the reports that his son had destroyed so many enemy 'Mechs. The Combine had needed a hero in those dark days of the Steiner offensive when so many planets were threatened by the invading forces. Lost in his obsession with Wolf's Dragoons, the Coordinator had approved the award, but he had confided to Constance that he was sure the numbers were inflated by toadies hoping to flatter Takashi's own vanity. Takashi had left the Katana Cluster awards ceremony to Warlord Cherenkoff of Dieron. He had refused to see the son who had for months communicated with his father only through the routine battle reports of a field commander to the Coordinator. Takashi's actions, or rather his lack of them, had only fueled the bad feeling between them. Father and son had not seen one another since the confrontation on Luthien almost five years ago.

Since that painful day, the relationship between Takashi and Theodore had remained static. Not so the universe around them. Even before the war broke out, a series of events had occurred to plunge the Combine into turmoil. Warlord Samsonov of the Galedon District had bungled the attempt to retain Wolf's Dragoons, and had failed even more miserably to execute the contingency plan that called for the Dragoons' destruction. The result was that several fine DCMS formations were mauled or destroyed in battles with the mercenaries as they escaped to Davion space. Enraged, the Coordinator had ordered Samsonov's execution. The cowardly Samsonov had bolted for the Periphery, taking officers and men from his Fifth Galedon Regulars with him. The ISF had managed to hide the disgrace from the news media, promulgating a story of Samsonov's assassination by a member of Wolf's Dragoons and the seppukuof the Warlord's inner circle of officers who had been shamed by their failures. Constance believed that even the frightfully efficient intelligence apparatus of House Davion had been taken in by the tale.

To replace the missing Samsonov in Galedon, Takashi had transferred Warlord Kester Hsiun Chi from Pesht. That competent officer had found it difficult to restrain his new district's warriors from pursuing a blood feud against Wolf's Dragoons. The war-within-a-war against those mercenaries had crippled efforts along that section of the Davion front until Chi finally managed to assert himself and coordinate efforts with Warlord Shotugama in the neighboring Benjamin District. Despite that, the Combine forces made little headway. Not even Takashi's waking from his dream of revenge and taking direct interest in the Davion front had been enough. There were few successes.

In what Constance believed to be an error in judgment, Takashi had filled the gap in the quiet Pesht District by naming her father, Marcus Kurita, its Warlord. Certainly, Takashi could not afford to have the ambitious Marcus waiting for an opportunity to strike at the Coordinator's back, but making him a Warlord again was dangerous. Yet the move had taken Marcus from close proximity to the Coordinator's person, and intrigue on Luthien had shown a dramatic decrease since his transfer to Pesht. Knowing that units of Pesht Regulars had gone to aid the fighting in the Rasalhague District worried Constance. Rasalhague had been her father's old power base.

The removal of Marcus as head of the Otomo bodyguards had rendered moot the putative cause of Theodore's exile. The way should have been clear for him to step into the traditional post of Heir-Designate. But then the war had begun, and Takashi breveted a little-known Tai-sa,intensely loyal to the Coordinator but a cipher in imperial politics, to the office. There had been no word from Theodore on the issue. He had no time to worry about family quarrels and empty honors.

That would change soon. As would so very much else.

Signaling her monks to remain at the edge of the trees, Constance continued on alone to where Theodore stood waiting. They exchanged bows.

"What is the news that you could not send by messenger?" he asked.

"The war is over," she stated simply.

Theodore froze, lids shuttering his eyes to a narrow, suspicious glare, but Constance ignored it. "My agents on Tharkad report that Archon Steiner has called off the Commonwealth's offensive," she went on calmly. "She plans to consolidate her gains and concentrate reserves on contested worlds. The DCMS's counterattacks have proven too strong for the Lyrans. All indications are that she has advised her Davion allies to do likewise."

"This is unexpected news." Theodore's voice was carefully neutral. He turned half-away, fingering the edge of his battle jacket in a gesture that Constance knew well from media footage of the warrior in the field. "Your Order has provided me with invaluable intelligence throughout the last six years. Often your assessment was more reliable than the ISF's. Don't think me ungrateful or that I doubt your Order's abilities, Constance, but can you be sure? There's been no hint on the front and no comparable reports from the ISF. The Coordinator's order to cease our own offensive activities should have strengthened the enemy's resolve."

"My sources are impeccable."

"So ka."

"The river of Steiner resources runs deep, Cousin, but the pool of their resolve is shallow," Constance said. "Their Davion allies are made of sterner stuff, but they lack the resources, and the ComStar Interdiction has crippled their economy. The alliance between the two Houses is still young; they are not unified. Like us, they have been stretched to the breaking point. They are incapable of further offensive action."

"What more do they need to take?" Theodore asked incredulously. "The Lyran armed forces now garrison more than fifty of our worlds. My Operation Contagion was blunted by treachery, and we have gained but two of their planets. So far, we have not done well. But I was so close ... most of the units along the front were taking orders from me. Even Warlord Sorenson acknowledged my command.

"We had hope of prevailing against the Lyrans, at least. Against Davion, the Dragon seems impotent. Cherenkoff still squats in his bunker awaiting a mythical Davion attack while he mounts 'major assaults' that are little more than raids. Shotugama and Chi have been active, but we have gained little—a few insignificant rimward worlds and the recapture of the systems in the Galtor Thumb. Since my diligent father took command there, we have had nothing more than increased casualties all along that border. With Hanse Davion focused on the Liao offensive, we should have been able to do much more. And I couldhave done more, if allowed to." Theodore shook his head ruefully.

"Despite their propaganda about Tikonov and St. Ives becoming independent states, Davion now rules most of Liao space. Hanse Davion has gotten most of what he wanted. The Capellan Confederation is crippled, ready for Davion's coup de grace. The political balance has taken a drastic shift. With Liao out of the equation, Hanse Davion is one step closer to becoming First Lord of the Inner Sphere."

"Closer he may be," Constance agreed, "but even the mighty war machine of the Federated Suns is not unlimited. It grinds to a halt, its communication and transport capabilities stretched beyond usefulness."

"We face only a temporary lull," Theodore warned. "I expect that it'll be longer than that of last spring, but hostilities haven't ended, despite the sanctimonious words of the Steiner and Davion rulers. Hanse Davion has unveiled his true intent to secure rulership of the Inner Sphere for himself and his descendants. The Fox will be looking for us next. As soon as he is able to move, he will be at our throat. He will harness his new gains to his purpose and recover enough of his losses—in about five years, I'd say. He won't wait longer, because he will fear our own recovery."

Constance flinched at the fire in Theodore's eyes.

"How can you be so sure?"

Theodore smiled, a sudden flash of light in the darkness of his intensity. "Now youquestion my veracity. I'm as sure as any commander can be without being inside his opponent's head. I read his mind and will in his actions, and I discern his intent behind the words he speaks. I learn what he teaches by example. But most important, I am not blinded by my obsessions." Theodore clasped his hands behind his back and looked up into the sky. "I am not the only one who sees the Fox's greedy designs. Many others are concerned as well."