Legions of Antares by Alan Burt Akers

Hamun. They are logical and appear just and eminently practical.” He watched as the shishi placed the tea things on the table, her arms bare to the elbow rosy and rounded, her movements deft. When she had gone to fetch the pot itself, he went on: “The new laws require substantial levels of wealth to achieve command. Money is the key to everything. Also there is a new spirit abroad, subdued, half-spoken, understood. It makes life difficult for diffs.”
    “But,” I said, shaking my head, “Hamal has no racial prejudice.”
    “Had none.”
    Well, I had long since gone through my xenophobic period when I called the array of splendid diffs of Kregen by names like beast-man, and man-beast, and halfling. They were diffs as we belonging to Homo sapiens were apims. Some races of diffs were so different from others that they could not be lumped together for a general judgment. The shishi came back with the tea, and when Nath had poured and we were drinking the first cup of that superb Kregan tea, he said, “They have closed the Jikhorkduns of the Ghat and Thoth. Money and supplies are tight. The army demands continual sacrifice. Hamal does not do well, in these latter days.”
    I noticed Nath said Hamal and not we. I let that pass. This news was, to the Emperor of Vallia, exhilarating. To thefriend and blade comrade of Rees ham Harshur, it was distressing.
    “Rees is a numim and therefore...”
    Nath nodded and broke in: “He lost his estates, for the wind blew them away, golden and shining. He lost his regiment.”
    “By Krun! No!”
    “Yes. Relatives of his wife took his family in. Now, Rees trains up hordes of clums from the shanty towns. They’re taking anyone into the army now. They let him retain a rank of Jiktar, ob-Jiktar.”
    I placed the teacup down carefully. I did not wish to spill the tea. I glared at Nath Tolfeyr. He would not meet my eyes.
    “And this is how Hamal repays her loyal servants! You know when Empress Thyllis overthrew the old emperor, Rees played a great part, was a devoted adherent to her cause?”
    “I know.”
    “It seems to me Hamal has lost the spirit of greatness.”
    Nath glanced around, casually. He lowered his voice.
    “Best not prattle on so, old fellow. At least, not so loudly in a public place.”
    “Yes, you are right. When do I get to see Rees? Where is he?”
    “Over by the mountains of the west, somewhere. I hear they’re raising an army. Another army. It will go the same way all the rest went, swallowed up in the Dawn Lands, or Vallia.”
    This prosaic view of military affairs added nothing to my concerns. Of course armies were being formed. Nath knew as much about them as any idler and gossip, and I still could not say outright to him: “Why is it, Nath Tolfeyr, you are not in the army?”
    He could be a spy, a secret agent, working for Thyllis. Why not? She had agents everywhere. That was well known. And Nath Tolfeyr had the habit of turning up unexpectedly.
    When we had finished the second cup, I said, “People talk of Prince Tyfar of Hamal. They say he has been on strange travels.” Then, cursing my runaway tongue, I said with what I hoped was a casual Sacred Quarter Bladesman’s languid poise, “And his father, Prince Nedfar, has been away. Together, I trust.”
    Nath laughed. “Yes, they’ve been out of the city. But they are back now and busy with the Air Service.” He stared over the rim of his cup. “When you say that people are talking about Prince Tyfar, Hamun, what, precisely, do you have in mind?”
    My runaway tongue had led to an interesting avenue, by Krun! Of course I was wrapped up in the fortunes of Tyfar, for he was a blade comrade, a fine companion, and he and my daughter Lela, whom he knew as Jaezila, were deeply in love and unable or unwilling to admit that, one to the other. And Tyfar thought we were Hamalese and labored for Thyllis and his country. Oh, yes, this was a pretty tangle. Tyfar had no idea Jaezila was my daughter, as I had not,