The Steel Kings by Roberts John Maddox

Author:Roberts, John Maddox [Roberts, John Maddox]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780812518313
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1993-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

TEN

“It is true, then?” said the woman in the thronelike chair at the head of the long table. K.

“Indisputably, Your Majesty,” said the councilor who was also Lord of the Southern March, a title the queen had created when she completely overhauled Neva’s defenses. “King Gasam is in possession of the steel mine. Even now, tons of the metal flow like water into the forges of the south. Queen Larissa has ordered the complete rebuilding of the old metal founding center of Gwato. The furnaces and foundries are being restored and the land is being scoured for skilled metal workers to learn the arts of working steel. The impudent woman is even offering bonuses for skilled Nevans to come over to her.”

Queen Shazad felt like burying her face in her hands, but she knew better than to show weakness before her councilors. Hael, Hael, she thought, how did you let this happen?

“I must confer with King Hael on this matter,” she said, with little conviction. For months there had been no word from Hael, despite the splendid relay system they had established between their nations. Their hard-riding couriers could traverse the hundreds of miles in a few days, weather permitting. But Hael had disappeared. He might be dead. She could scarcely bear the thought. It had been decades since they were lovers, but his archers were her nation’s security, the only true check on Gasam’s mad, expanding power.

“What indications have you seen of his priorities?” she asked the southern lord.

“Weapons, Your Majesty. Spears, swords, axes and maces, perhaps even body armor of steel.”

At this, the military men around the table, who made up most of the Council these days, laughed.

“Come now,” said the prince consort, a scarred old campaigner himself. ‘ ‘Gasam’s elite are island barbarians, and they despise armor. He would never waste steel on his foot soldiers!”

From a belt pouch the southern lord took a small object. “A few days ago, a deserter came across the border. He went straight to the nearest tavern and began to trade these for drink. One pf my soldiers was in the place, sober enough to arrest the man and bring him and his trade goods to me.” He passed the little object up the table and as it rested in each palm in turn, each face clouded with horror. When it reached the prince consort and he looked similarly dismayed, the queen snatched it impatiently from his hand.

It was an arrowhead, like thousands of others she had seen, except that most were made of stone, the finer ones of bronze. This one was a dingy silver color, apparently made of steel.

“Is this terribly significant?” she asked the prince consort.

“Your Majesty,” said her husband of fifteen years, who in this assembly was required to address her formally, “among Gasam’s troops, the archers are by far the most despised. Hand-to-hand combat is the only sort the islanders deem honorable. They even consider their javelin-hurling to be more of a sporting prelude to battle than serious weapon-play.

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