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frontiers.
The only problem with the Djangs was  and here Pallan O. Fellin Coper exercised exquisite tact as he
sought to explain to me in a way that would not demean the Djangs in my eyes  that they were, in very
truth, exceptionally fine soldiers, but they were seldom entrusted with high command. To be brutally frank
about it, the Djangs were bonny fighters in the blood and press of the field, but were not overly bright
when it came to the higher command. Tactics  yes, they were superb. Strategy  no. They were
duffers.
 Up to Jiktar rank, and you will scarcely find a better soldier. But give a Djang a brigade and he sweats
and groans and worries, and wants to go up to the front line to see how his men are getting on every bur
instead of thinking and planning what they ought to do. There are Djang Chuktars; very few.
 And you, Pallan Coper?
 Oh, I am a civilian administrator. I deal with the roads. At that moment the carriage gave an almighty
jolt and pitched and swung on its simple leaf springs so that we were rattled about like a Bantinko
dancer s peas in his gourd.
 Now may Djan rot the road! burst out Coper and immediately turned in alarmed contrition to his wife,
who let out a little shriek and waved her perfumed handkerchief.
When I discovered she was horrified at his outburst and not the shuddering of the carriage I felt my lips
rick up. These two were likely to make me laugh before I realized!
When all was settled Coper explained that his own people handled all the affairs that demanded planning
and higher administration for the Djangs. He called himself a Djang, too. He was an Obdjang, that is, a
First Djang. He told me frankly that although his race of diffs were clearly not the same as the Djang diffs,
no one had any memory of when their partnership had begun, and no records existed in their libraries.
Always, so Coper said, the Djangs had fought and the Obdjangs had directed. Each respected the other.
Each knew they could do nothing without the other.
 Except  And here Coper looked as troubled as I had seen him so far. I chanced a guess.
 This Kov Nath Jagdur na Hyr Khor, I said.  The leader of the leemsheads. He would prefer to lead
instead of being led.
Coper nodded rather forlornly and his whiskers drooped.  That is so, Notor Prescot. You are quick.
 You have to be quick to stay alive on Kregen.
 Those yetches of Gorgrens are quick, also. We have certain intelligence that they plan a new campaign
 and that will play merry hell with my roads  and I am summoned to the palace. The king will need
counsel. Chuktar Naghan Stolin Rumferling will be there, I am glad to say. He is a good friend and a
great warrior. My part will be a civilian s, which pleases me, also.
 Yes, Ortyg. His wife spoke up.  Better for you to be a civilian and let the soldiers and the warriors
fight. Chuktar Naghan is a very great warrior indeed.
 He knows the approaches the Gorgrens will probably take. You see, Notor Prescot, our frontier is
protected by the Yawfi Suth and the Wendwath; but there are ways through and between these natural
obstacles and an army must be so positioned as to cover all eventualities.
 You have to outguess your opponent, I said.  Yes, I know.
 I had done a deal of campaigning with my fierce clansmen on the Great Plains of Segesthes. That time
we had burned our foemen s wagons in the Pass of Trampled Leaves had been a great bluff and
counter-bluff. They, too, had had an alternative set of routes, and Hap Loder and I had guessed right.
Perhaps, the thought occurs, if we had not had the skill and generalship to pick the right answer, I would
not be here now. My bones might be moldering away on the plains, my blood and flesh long since gone
to feed the grasses grazed upon by the chunkrah.
Coper glanced at me and I saw the quick intelligence on his gerbil-like face.
 I know you are a great fighter, Notor Prescot, although I do not think you would have lasted much
longer against the leemsheads  and I compliment you, sir, I compliment you  but may I take it you
also have knowledge of the art of strategy? Of generalship? Of the maneuvering of armies?
Somehow, whether from my need to be independent and free or from a resentment of being pushed, I
said,  Oh, as to that, Pallan Coper, I have been a fighting-man for a long time. I am content to leave the
higher command in the hands of those who believe they are masters at that game.
He sank back in his seat. He rubbed his whiskers and pulled his scarlet hat over one ear, and so we fell
into a silence that, at least for me, came with unwelcome desolation. I had the uncomfortable feeling that
there was more to O. Fellin Coper.
Over the rumble of the carriage wheels we did not hear the beat of wings, and an escort Djang thrust his
head through the window as the carriage shuddered to a halt.
 Well, Deldar Pocor! What is it, what is it?
 A messenger from Chuktar Stolin Rumferling, Pallan.
The door was opened and, fussing and complaining of delays, Coper and his wife alighted. The other
carriage with its Obdjang attendants pulled up also and the escort sat their totrixes with the blind
indifference of the soldier wanting to get back to barracks and the local inn. A fluttclepper curved through
the air in a barrage of swift wing-beats to land beside the road. The rider, a young and athletic Djang
wearing flying leathers of orange and gray, leaped off. A long flexible staff whipped aft of his saddle and
flew a multicolored flag with many tails. This, I guessed, was a badge and the reason the guard Deldar
had known the messenger came from Chuktar Rumferling.
Using a steel key strung on a golden chain around his neck, Coper unlocked the flat balass box the
messenger proffered. He took out a narrow strip of paper and broke the seal with a practiced flick of his
left thumb. He unfolded the paper and read. His whiskers quivered and then stood out, stiff and rigid.
He crumpled the paper in his small hand.
 Very good, merker. A verbal reply.  Returning in all haste. Now get airborne.
 My wings are yours to command, said the merker in the rote fashion of the messenger and leaped
aboard his fluttclepper and took off immediately. Coper ushered us back into the carriage and squeaked
up very hotly at Deldar Pocor.
 We must hurry, good Pocor! Great things are afoot in Djanguraj. I expect us to reach the city by
sunset.
  By sunset, Pallan. Very good, Pallan. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]