Conflict and Courage (21 page)

“Name it
Express and be done with it,” Vlandiya advised.

“You think it a
good idea?”

“Yes. We can no
longer fight together and I will not fight on own now.”

Piers was
warming to his brainwave more and more, “fast and efficient,
that’ll be our byword,” he declared. “I think I’ll go and see
Francis and Asya right now, before someone else gets the same idea
and he went on his way with care; his wound still pained him when
he tried to exert himself.

Vlandiya
settled down, shaking her head at his enthusiasm, really, these
humans; they did come up with some fantastic ideas. It might not be
too bad, she thought as she laid her head down between her paws, in
fact, such a life might be quite exciting.

To cut a long
story short, in Argyll the plan was welcomed with alacrity, Robert
Lutterell demanding to knew when Piers and Vlandiya would be
available and he was most disappointed to learn that the service
could not be set up for another few months. Although Piers no
longer inhabited the medical facility, he was still under strict
orders from the medics who had prohibited any wild jaunts
throughout the countryside for some time to come.

At least
planning his new enterprise gave Piers plenty to do during his
recuperation. He learned to write with his left hand and then
painstakingly mapped out routes, based on the latest information
Robert Lutterell sent him concerning the location of the settlers.
Not just Piers was surprised to learn how far away from the
original settlement some groups had gone, some as far north as the
mountains. No wonder, thought Piers, the Councillors were eager to
avail themselves of his services, especially in the interior, which
was not patrolled regularly by either Vada or Lindar.

Some notes
against the crosses on the map said such things as ‘planned
destination of the family Mackinnon’ and the like.

“Councillor
Lutterell doesn’t have any idea if the family is alive or not,”
Piers said to Vlandiya when he showed her the map and explained,
with some difficulty, how it was that a piece of parchment was a
two-dimensional scale model of the entire eastern section of the
northern continent. “That will be our first task, to make contact
with all these groups, give them an update on what is happening and
bring back a report.”

Piers realised
early on that he and Vlandiya couldn’t do it all by themselves and
asked other disabled vadeln-pairs to join them. As long as the Lind
could run, could carry their rider and both were capable of
sustaining long hours travelling, he would consider them. Soon he
had four pairs, three of which would be able to cope with the work.
The other duo, James Oping and Maya, who insisted on joining, could
not cope because, although James had survived the battle unscathed,
Maya had lost her off-forepaw. Piers appointed them as central
co-ordinators for the enterprise; Maya was delighted to be useful
again and hobbled around the stronghold, her tail wagging for the
first time since the battle.

* * * * *

The spread of
the colonists away from Settlement was not the only problem facing
Robert Lutterell.

The trouble
with a democratic government was that everyone felt they should
have their say, vocally and often. He had spent all but the last
year of his adult life in the military, in Spacefleet, where the
Captain gave out the orders and they were obeyed. He was finding it
difficult to adapt.

He raised his
arms to stop the clamour of all the Councillors of Argyll trying to
talk at once.

“The computer
personnel say that they cannot guarantee the efficacy of the solar
power units past this coming winter,” he repeated, “they are
downloading the most critical data on to the remaining stocks of
durapaper.”

“I hope they do
not forget the most important,” a female voice spoke up, “culture,
books, poetry.”

“The scientific
and medical knowledge is more important,” said Robert, “we all
agreed on that. Poetry is not a priority, but they will do their
best.”

“I did
not
agree.”

Robert sighed
and once again tried to explain the problem, “the power
replenishment engines were on the ship,” he said, trying to keep
his patience, “and that is at the bottom of the marsh, filling up
with muddy ooze. Most of the usable power units are in the medical
facility where they are needed most. The engineers have failed so
far to develop substitute panels.”

“Jim Cranston
and Francis McAllister got the information they wanted,” she
complained.

“That is a
completely different matter and you know it,” answered Robert, “he
needed it to help find the best tactics in order to defeat the
Larg.”

“The convicts
and the Larg have gone, they’ll not trouble us again.”

“If you believe
that Lydia,” said Robert, “then you are a fool. They were defeated,
not destroyed.”

Lydia snorted
in disbelief but refrained from any further comment but, as Robert
realised, her sentiment was being expressed all too often of
late.

“Perhaps we can
print out some of what you are looking for,” he temporised,
anything to get the thrice-blasted woman off his back, “let me see
your list again.”

Lydia Barrowman
thrust it at him, “I’ve marked with a star all those that we simply
must have,” she said. “I’ve checked, download time is minimal and,
against my better judgement, I have restricted it to the works
people want to read rather than what they should.”

“Very
sensible,” he contented himself with saying. He looked at her,
trying to suppress his rising anger, so; the senior teachers had
put their collective feet down, had they? They seemed to have
forgotten that Rybak was their future, not some eons old dead
author’s works with nothing pertinent to say.

“I will study
the list,” Robert said. “It will join the other lists of
non-essential data awaiting download and will be printed after the
medical, scientific and engineering data is completed. We are at
present printing the medical textbooks which, even you must see,
takes precedence.”

“No, I don’t
see. We must consider our heritage, the minds of our people. They
must not forget where they come from.”

“I am more
concerned with the imminent demise of the communications. The links
might well be down within a few weeks.”

There were
murmurs of agreement from the more practical and sensible.

“I for one,” he
continued, “am mightily relieved that this Piers has come up with a
solution.”

“It means that
there will be more Lind here than ever. I am not sure that this is
a good thing,” complained the dour representative from the
northeast.

“If you
prefer,” suggested Robert, “I can inform Piers that he is not to
enter your ward. I am sure he will agree if this is your and your
people’s wish. It will mean however, that you will be completely
isolated from the rest of us.”

The
representative said nothing, but his face spoke volumes.

“We have to
keep together man,” said another. “What if the convicts and Larg
return? Keep contact with the Lind to a minimum if that’s your
wish. I for one am going to take full advantage of this
service.”

There was a
burst of clamouring speech as, yet again, all the council members
tried to talk at once.

“I am a busy
man,” Robert interrupted in a loud voice as the uproar began to get
out of hand. The noise subsided, “now let us discuss the power
problems, the reason this meeting was called in the first
place.”

With the
failing of the technology it was no wonder that Robert Lutterell
and most of the other Councillors had leapt at the chance of a
means to keep in touch with the population. Pier’s messaging
service might not be high-tech but it was a viable solution to at
least part of the problem.

Three months
after the idea had been promulgated, the Express personnel were in
Argyll. Robert Lutterell allocated them an office and living space
within Settlement, with the ongoing exodus of settlers, there were
plenty of empty buildings and by the end of winter the vadeln-pairs
could be seen running north and west, taking written messages to
and fro and providing an immediate telepathic message service in
the event of emergencies.

“And there is
another career path open to duos unable or not wishing to serve in
the Vada,” announced Francis in satisfaction as reports began to
come in about the success of the venture.

There was a
hitherto unseen benefit. The people of Argyll who did not live in
the far north or on the coasts were getting used to seeing the Lind
amongst them. There was a marked improvement in their attitude
towards their allies. Humankind began to trust them and more humans
were signing up for Lind language lessons. A call had to be sent
out to Vadath for teachers to come and help teach the rapidly
overfilling classes.

As Francis said
to Jim during one of his frequent visits to domta Afanasei, “who
would have believed it?”

* * * * *

Lord Bryan
Brentwood was ready. Three galleys were riding gently at anchor in
the middle of the bay. They would sail with the morning tide.

The Captains
waited on his final orders. The three men stood in front of him,
sipping root wine and savouring its taste, it was not often that
Brentwood favoured his men with wine from his private stock.

“The time has
come,” said their Lord at last, “you know what to do.”

All three stood
to attention.

“And remember,
we need them alive, men, women and children.”

The youngest of
the Captains looked uncertain, as Brentwood was quick to notice.
“You have a problem with that?” he asked.

“Well my Lord,”
the man answered, “I still don’t see why we have to take the men
since we might have to kill some to get their women.”

“I am well
aware of that Captain,” said Brentwood, “but you need as many
able-bodied men as you can get. Think man, you can use them, unless
you and your men want to row your own boats for ever.”

The older men
grinned.

“Good point,
Lord Brentwood. I’ll explain it to the men. We won’t fail you.” The
youngest took another sip of wine.

“In and out,”
continued Brentwood, “a quick operation. Don’t give them the chance
to call for help from those blasted Lind friends of theirs.”

“Yes Sir,” said
the oldest Captain, a grey-haired man of around sixty, “my men are
raring to go.”

“Aye,”
interrupted the middle Captain, “we’re well armed. You’ve seen to
that. The armour for the interesting part of this journey is better
that even Baker’s regiment.” He raised his glass in salute. “Our
allies are aboard as well, as comfy as we can make ‘em!”

The man
grinned. How Brentwood had persuaded a small group of Larg to
accompany one of his ships no one knew, but manage it he had and
the swarthy Captain of the largest of the galleys had accepted
their offer. He was the only one of the three agreeable to have,
what many sailors called man-eaters, on board with him.

Brentwood
smiled, it had cost him a fortune to get the arms and armour but he
was well pleased. Of his meeting with Aoalvaldr the Larg he felt no
need to explain and if Aoalvaldr’s support cost him a few of the
least saleable of the captives, then that was acceptable.

He waited until
the men had finished their wine. He was pleased with the way things
were going. Now it was up to his three Captains to deliver.

“You have your
orders,” he said as he got to his feet, a clear signal that it was
time for them to take their leave.

At dawn’s high
tide he stood alone and silent at the edge of the jetty and watched
the three boats raise anchor and make their slow way out to sea.
Now all he could do was wait.

As planned, the
raiders split up not far from the northern coast, one boat going
west towards a small fishing hamlet some leagues away, the other
two heading east towards a larger settlement.

* * * * *

The latter raid
was a complete success, from the pirates’ point of view. No one
noticed the galleys gliding up towards the rudimentary jetty that
dawn. The pirate haul included fourteen men, eleven women and no
less than nineteen children for the total cost of one life lost and
three injured. They set the village alight as they departed.

At the small
hamlet further along the coast it was a different story.

Justin Wright
and his family had moved to an area west of the original human
settlement a scant month previously. He had chosen his stake
carefully, a small inlet beside a river tributary, with arable land
and a natural harbour for the fishing fleet. Two fishing and one
farming family had accompanied him, the latter anxious to begin
planting without further ado now that the war was over.

Justin was in
the shallows checking the nets set up to catch the blue lobster
jellies. A sensible man, he had accepted the Lind guard offered by
the Susa of pack Jalkei’s Lindar and when he saw the strange craft
on the horizon was thankful for his foresight. His first thought
was that no northerner had a craft like this, his second,
danger.

He squinted out
to sea again and dropping his catch, sped back to the cabins as
fast as his legs could carry him, shouting, “Intruders!”

Justin was
still awaiting delivery of his broad beam fishing smacks.
At
least we’ll only lose the ketch.

His eldest
son’s scared face met him as he entered, his wife was in the inner
room; she was waking the younger children.