“Our scouts have gone to the border, and found nothing but this devastation,” Tegestu said. “This wreckage ends at the border, but on the other side people are starving. The peasants have had all their grain taken to the city, even the seed-corn. Tastis wants us to support his people as well as our own.”
Palastinas frowned. “We’ll have to, I suppose,” he said. “But it’s for the Abessu-Denorru to decide.”
Tegestu nodded, understanding: What was Necias along for, if not for Palastinas to pass on to him all the hard decisions of policy?
“There is a problem once again,” Tegestu said, “with sanitation.”
Palastinas grimaced. “I’ll send out another general order,” he said. The Arrandalla, with canals so close at hand, were used to defecating wherever they wished; and the country people, militia and mercenaries, also dropped their trousers wherever it suited them. This made a large encampment an odorous mess, and the Brodaini had, without any great success, been trying to introduce the custom of the slit trench.
“Beg pardon, Marshal, but there have been general orders before. Without any enforcement the situation will only...”
“Aye, aye,” Palastinas said wearily, pulling his little white beard. “We’ll have to start lashing the ones who don’t obey, I suppose.”
“I think that would be wise, Palastinas Marshal cenors-stannan,” Tegestu said, satisfied. He looked up. “Another piece of news,” he said. “There’s been a victory over the raiders, one of their columns chopped up. It happened at Fallonito.”
“Indeed?” Palastinas said. Fallonito was a small town, the center of one of the border areas that had been settled by Brodaini dependents, in this case mainly Meningli farmers, with a few Brodaini and Classani to keep order and to act as garrison. “There wasn’t much of a force, was there?” Palastinas asked.
“Three Brodaini, under command of a young man, Dellila Gartanu Sepestu y’Dantu. Four Classani, and the rest Meningli,” Tegestu said with pride. “They were lucky enough to have warning of the raiders’ arrival. Dellila armed the entire population, knocked holes in the walls between the houses so he could move his people without exposing them, and then lay in wait for the attackers; he let them ride in, then slammed the gates behind. None got away. They counted over sixty dead, with three Meningli killed.” Palastinas said aiau softly, impressed, and Tegestu smiled his satisfaction. “Dellila suffered eighteen wounds, but is expected to survive,” he added.
“I’ll send him my congratulations,” said Palastinas.
“He would esteem it an honor.” Tegestu uncapped the wineskin and let the sweet cider roll down his tongue, then looked at Palastinas and said, “Delilah’s kin to my wife. I’ll be pleased to find more important work for him, if he lives.”
“It’s good to have a victory over these bandits,” Palastinas said, scowling. “It’ll show what can be done, if a few men stand up to them.”
If a few Brodaini stand up to them, Tegestu thought; but he didn’t say it. Abessla could fight surprisingly well if the spirit was with them, but he suspected they couldn’t have done what Dellila had done.
“Will you share our meal with us?” Tegestu asked. Palastinas laughed, then shook his head.
“I think I prefer Necias’ table to the stuff you people eat on the march,” he said, rising and gesturing the others to remain seated as, automatically, they rose to salute him. “There’ll be a staff meeting tonight?”
“Aye. When we call a halt.”
“I’ll be there. Drandor. Ban-demmini.” He nodded to all and began walking quickly toward the pavilion, which was staggering erect as yelling servants began pushing the center pole upward while others strained at the guy wires. Tegestu called for his meal, but paused as he heard the sound of hasty galloping coming from ahead of the column. He leaned forward to look out around the trunk of the tree and saw three swift, light horses riding breakneck toward him. The dust had settled by now and he could see their banner clearly: it was Grendis, who was chief of the scouts and often ranged ahead of the army with her riders. She reined in as she saw his own banner planted by the road, and then turned the lathered steed in. Behind her was her bannerman, then a breathless, travel-stained young man, one of her light cavalry whelkrani, a leather case containing a telescope bouncing at his side. Impatiently she pulled her helmet back off her head as she pulled the horse to a halt, then called out her message even before she dismounted.
“I think we’ve found Tastis!”
As he rose, leaving his untouched meal, Tegestu smiled to see Palastinas, halfway to Necias’ pavilion, suddenly stop dead in his tracks and spin around. There was a grin of feral exultation on his face...
*
All the staff was present, so the staff meeting was held on the spot, over luncheon in Necias’ grand pavilion. Grendis presented her whelkran, who had commanded the squadron sent ranging ahead to the great bend of the East Rallandas River, the broad, sluggish band of muddy water that led north to the great salt marshes and thence to the sea. Yesterday morning he’d found the principal ford guarded by cavalry, but his scouts had infiltrated through them to find the ford blocked, heavy iron stakes planted along its bottom, the bluffs behind set with Tastis’ engines, ready to fling stones down on the heads of anyone trying to force a passage. There hadn’t been a sign of any large force, however, and the young man was thorough: that night he swam his horse across the river and scouted the enemy himself. Campfires, he’d reported, by the hundreds.
Assuming six people to a campfire, he said, there were at least ten thousand men on the other side of the river. Probably at least twice that, since he was sure he hadn’t seen all the fires.
Smiles broke out, and relieved chattering. The whelkran, his ears burning with compliments, was dismissed.
“So: we have their force located,” Palastinas said, smiling. “The riverbed fortifications won’t hold us for long; we’ll get across somewhere, upstream or down, once we bring the bridging train up. Someone send for it, hey?” One of his staff grinned and began a note.
Tegestu looked down at his hands, and frowned.
“Doesn’t sound like Tastis,” he said, aware that his voice, speaking Abessas, sounded harsh and angry. There was silence in the tent: eyes turned toward him.
“Doesn’t sound like Tastis, a battle at the ford,” Tegestu insisted. “I fought with him; he was one of my whelkrani, a kinsman, one of the best.” He gestured with his hands, trying to emphasize his points, painfully aware of his inadequacy in the language. “He... he moved. Not like this, not behind stakes, no. Light. Quick. Attacked with surprise. Ambush. Cunning. Nothing like this, not ever.” He saw the eyes of Grendis on him, comprehending. “It’s not like him. There’s something in this we haven’t seen.”
“Yes,” Grendis said. “That bothered me.” She looked down at the table, her brows knitted in concentration.
“Perhaps it isn’t Tastis,” Necias offered. His meal, half-eaten, lay before him; he made quick, impatient moves with his hands as he spoke. “Perhaps Tastis is still in the city, or out with the fleet, somewhere.”
“Has other whelkrani to take care of the fleet,” Tegestu said. “Is not his, his specialty. Was light cavalryman himself at first; always thinks of moving fast. Cunning is his specialty. There is a trick in this, I think.”
Palastinas watched him with a grave frown, then nodded. “We must be alert.” he said. “Keep our scouts busy.”