Last Battle of the Icemark by Stuart Hill Page A

being confident, competent and efficient.
    â€œRight, now that everyone seems ready to begin, I’ll start by calling this meeting to order.” She raised a small wooden hammer and smacked it smartly on the table.
    Maggiore awoke with a snort. “Yes, Grishmak. Good idea, I’ll have a pint of ale,” he said loudly and blinked at everyone in confusion.
    â€œI agree with you, mate,” said Grishmak happily. “But unfortunately we’ve got the very dry business of a meeting to get through first.”
    Cressida coughed meaningfully and silence fell. “All right, it’s Woden’s Day. The First of November, the Year of the Boar, and present are Queen Thirrin, Oskan Witchfather, King Grishmak, Tharaman-Thar, Krisafitsa-Tharina, Basilea Olympia of the Hypolitan and her Consort Olememnon Stagapoulou, Maggiore Totus and myself, Crown Princess Cressida. Absent are Prince Charlemagne, Crown Prince Mekhmet of the Desert Kingdom and Princess Kirimin of the Icesheets. We’ve gathered to discuss the growing crisis inthe lands of the disintegrating Polypontian Empire, and will attempt to agree a united response to it.” She fell silent, and turned to the grey-haired clerk who was busily scribbling notes. “Have you got all of that?” she asked, and when the clerk nodded she drew breath to continue.
    â€œAren’t there going to be any refreshments?” Tharaman interrupted. “I always think better with a little snack to keep me going.”
    â€œI’m with you there,” said Grishmak. “Bring on the nibbles!”
    â€œThere aren’t any!” Cressida snapped. “This is all far too important, and besides, once you lot start eating it’ll only turn into a party.”
    â€œCan’t say I have a problem with that myself,” said Tharaman. “What about you, Grishy?”
    â€œNone at all. Bit of food and fun helps the boring bits along, in my opinion. Let’s call a chamberlain and order some grub.”
    â€œNo!” Cressida insisted. “We all need to concentrate, and I for one find it difficult to think once you and Tharaman start cracking bones and spitting out gristle.”
    â€œI never spit out gristle!” said Tharaman in miffed tones. “A terrible waste of protein. It just needs a little extra chewing, that’s all.”
    Thirrin had watched the exchange in silence, but now she sat forward in her chair. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a sandwich myself.”
    Cressida looked at her thunderously. How dare her own mother not support her stance? The chaos that was the Icemark’s government needed to be controlled and subjected to a little discipline, and her decision to ban food fromimportant meetings was the first of many reforms she had planned. “Madame, I really feel that eating and drinking—”
    â€œAh, drinking, good idea!” said Tharaman. “Beer would go down nicely at the moment. There’s a particularly good brew just in from the South Riding. I sampled a few bowls last night and—”
    â€œWe can’t have alcohol in a meeting!” Cressida almost wailed.
    Thirrin sighed. Her daughter was an excellent Crown Princess, but she dreaded to think what sort of puritanical state she’d introduce once she ascended the throne. She really had to learn that you cannot suppress people’s natural exuberance. Even trying could be disastrous; she’d probably make herself the most unpopular monarch since Theobold the Thin, who had tried to introduce a tax on food, and was finally sent into exile when he decided to ban all alcoholic drinks.
    â€œCressida, every meeting I’ve ever attended in the Icemark has been liberally supplied with food and drink,” she said gently. “And, do you know, for all the debauchery and lack of etiquette, we really didn’t do too badly, did we? Every coastal raid pushed back into the sea, every invasion defeated,