“Barges,” said Grendis.
“Many barges,” Tegestu added. “Taken from the river and hidden in the canal.”
“Boats,” Necias repeated. He seemed bewildered. “So you found boats in the canal. Why shouldn’t there be boats in a canal?’’
Stumbling over the unfamiliar words in their haste, Grendis and Tegestu explained. Tastis had, of course, sent men up and down the river to destroy or confiscate every boat and barge he could to prevent Tegestu from using them to aid his crossing. But the barges hidden here, in the carefully deepened canal, suggested he was intending to use them for purposes of his own.
The deep water in the canal meant that when the dam was broken down the barges would all float effortlessly into the river on the current. Tastis’ engineers could assemble them into a bridge — probably more than one bridge — in a few hours. If done at night the chances of being seen were slim, particularly since the heavy timber in the river valley would obscure the vision of anyone on the heights above; and if the cavalry forded above the bridge while the infantry crossed over the barges, Tastis could get most of his army across before dawn.
And then, Tegestu explained, there would be a smashing dawn attack on the Arrandalla camp. The defenders would be caught by surprise, with no plan of action, probably without time even to don their armor. Such of the army as survived would be driven back in disorder, delaying the campaign for months, and allowing Tastis time to move his forces against Prypas, presumably to attempt the same sort of surprise.
It had been only because two Arrandalla youth had gone in search of adventure that the barges had been discovered at all — all the safe scouting approaches were well away from the canal. And the cavalry raid Tastis had launched had faded away to the north, suggesting that Tastis was hoping to draw his enemies’ attention there, away from a river crossing. It was masterful.
Tegestu felt a warm certainty filling him as he spoke. The plan was pure Tastis: an opposed river crossing to delay the enemy and lull them into security, a diversion to draw attention away to the north, a sudden crossing to fall on the enemy camp from an unexpected direction. Swift, sudden, flexible, the attack in strength and unlooked-for. The hallmarks of a Tastis campaign. It would have worked, too, but for those two young scouts. And Grendis. A seeming accident, still their escapade would never have taken place without her insistence on finding Tastis’ intentions, trying to slip into the camp from an unusual direction.
Tegestu glanced at Grendis, standing travel-stained on Necias’ fine carpets, feeling his heart fill with joy at the sight of her. She had kept faith, believing Tegestu even though there was no evidence to support him she’d kept her scouts working night and day until, at last, the revelation had come. He reached out to touch her arm; and she glanced up at him, her eyes filled with pride.
“I’ll reward those two young men,” Necias was saying. “Their fathers will be proud.” He looked up at them, pulling his lower lip. “When will the crossing be?” he asked.
“Soon.” Tegestu said. “Or he will have wasted that cavalry raid.”
“So,” Necias said. “We can meet him, there on the water’s edge. Push him back.”
“May your arm never weaken. Abessu-Denorru,” Tegestu said. “I would wish to let him build his bridge and bring his army across.” He saw Necias’ bewilderment and allowed himself a grim, reassuring smile. “We should let Tastis’ plan take its course.”
Tastis had devised such a good plan, Tegestu thought, it would be a shame to not to let him have his battle.
*
It was two nights later that Grendis’ watchers on the riverbank brought word that the barges were moving. Tegestu, lying in the dark repose of his tent as the tedec and bohau played outside under the stars, heard the hooves of the gallopers and their whispered conversation outside the tent. He reached out to touch Grendis’ arm as she lay on the next cot and felt her start as she came awake.
“The news has come,” he said with quiet certainty. Comprehension came into her eyes, and she raised a hand to touch his cheek.
“Tegestu.” A world of trust in the way she said the name. I shall ward your back from danger, she had promised; the promise was kept still.
There was a scuffling of feet outside the tent. “Beg pardon, bro-demmini.” Thesau’s voice.
“Once more, my heart,” Tegestu said. He kissed her hand. “I am grateful every day,” he said, and bent to kiss her, his unbound hair caressing her forehead, and then rose to his feet and told those outside to enter. Thesau was there, armored already in his leather; with him were Acamantu and Cascan.
“Inform Marshal Palastinas and the Abessu-Denorru,” Tegestu said, after he’d heard the news. “Then have the army called quietly to arms. No trumpets or drums — make certain of that.”
“Aye, bro-demmin.”
He and Grendis sat opposite one another on their cots, their knees touching, as the Classani braided their hair and coiled it carefully atop their heads. Grendis looked at him with a slight, tranquil smile, not speaking — no words were needed; it was perfectly understood, all that they meant to one another.
They stood to have their armor fitted, Grendis with her light cavalry leather cuirass and jingling coif of chain beneath her light helmet, Tegestu in the heavier linked plates of brigandine. The Classani handed them their swords and, Tegestu in the lead, they walked out of the dark tent.
It was black. There was a glow in the west where First Moon, with her stripes of deep azure and yellow, was setting; Third Moon had risen, but he was small and provided little light.
Ghantenis, Tegestu’s banner bearer, stood outside the tent, the heavy standard folded darkly over his head, next to others of the staff and a dark mass of whelkrani, commanders of hundreds and thousands who, forewarned by some uncharted sense, had known to migrate in this moment to the tent of their drandor. Tegestu received their salutes gravely. “Ban-demmini, Tastis is moving tonight,” he said. “I trust his welcome is prepared?”
“Aye, bro-demmin,” they chorused softly. Tegestu could see the fervid glow in their eyes, the glow that anticipated combat and rejoiced in the anticipation... he raised his gauntleted hands, and his limbs felt younger by twenty years.
“Blessings on you all,” he said. “Go to your places. There is no need for haste. There are many hours before dawn.”
They bowed again in silence, and the whelkrani dispersed, the staff standing ready beneath the folded banner. Tegestu called for the horses. There was a flurry of movement on the fringe of the group and suddenly it parted for the Abessu-Denorru, moving rapidly in the dark. Tegestu hastily went down to one knee.
“Rise, rise,” Necias said hastily, and Tegestu came to his feet again. Necias seemed agitated, shifting his weight rapidly from one foot to the other; he had a coat of chain on, with one arm fully armored and the other not, as if too impatient to armor himself fully. Necias put his fists on his hips.
“Tastis is coming, hey?” he asked quickly. “You’re sure about it?”
Tegestu bowed. “Is certain,” he said. “He will come tonight.”
Necias clapped his hands. “Good,” he said heartily. “Very good. We’ll beat him, hey?”
Tegestu bowed again. “Canlan, our arms are strong,” he said.
“Good,” repeated Necias. “I’ll be ready to ride with you, as soon as my armor’s strapped on.” He looked at Tegestu, his eyes dark and strange. “I trust you, Tegestu,” he said. He licked his lips and glanced up at the dark sky, then looked at the Brodaini faces under their tilted helms, the shadowed faces that watched him impassively. “I’m counting on you all.”