Blade knew by now that it was not only pointless but dangerous to say anything concerning a matter about which Kul-Nam had already made up whatever he used for a mind. Certainly His Magnificence had landed his Empire in a messy situation. Only a small fraction of the people of military age had weapons or any knowledge of how to use them. His army and the nobles' fighting men were spread very thin. Behind them was nothing-no reserve, no local-defense forces, nothing at all. The towns could not even delay the Steppemen by closing their gates and holding out until the Imperial army could move to rescue them!
It was a stupid situation. It was also a waste of time to worry about it. The thing to worry about for the time being was keeping his own head on his shoulders. If he could do that long enough, perhaps he might be able to do something for somebody else in Saram.
Chapter 8
The ride north across the plain toward the Emperor's castle took five days. On the morning of the sixth day a haze of smoke and dust on the horizon ahead told Blade that they were approaching another town.
It was not a town, but an army camp as large as a town. Thick clouds of black smoke coiled up from a row of brick chimneys, telling of a large arsenal hard at work. There were rows of wooden barracks with tile roofs stretching for almost a mile, and numerous guns lined up outside the walls. All the lamer guns were mounted on heavy sledges instead of wheels. Such guns would be useful for knocking down the walls of a rebellious town or a rebellious noble's castle, but in the field against fast-moving horsemen they would be useless. In fact, they would slow down the movements of any army that tried to use them. In spite of this, they were all polished and painted and on display like so many blooded horses.
Kul-Nam was obviously proud of them, whatever use he might expect to get out of them.