“You want them to look for a ford?” asked General Chen.
“They should act like they are looking for a ford,” smiled Premer Shamal, “but what I really want to know is how far upstream the Khadorans are watching. They know this river well, so if there is a ford upstream we can be sure that it will be guarded.”
“So you are more interested in finding out if we will be observed upstream?” questioned the general. “What do you have in mind if we are not being watched?”
“Rafts,” smiled Premer Shamal. “Simple rafts. The rafts can be created in the forest beyond the prying eyes of the enemy. During the night we will ferry our men across the river upstream from Sintula. When the Khadorans wake in the morning, our armies will be attacking the city from the east instead of being on the south side of the river.”
“An excellent plan,” grinned General Chen. “It is simple, yet ingenious. I will see to immediately.”
* * *
“They have backed away from the river,” reported Marshal Berman. “There do not appear to be any siege machines being constructed. They are just standing there.”
“Something smells,” frowned Emperor Marak. “They should be building siege engines to attack the city. Are you sure they are not building them out of sight?”
“I cannot be sure of that,” admitted Marshal Berman, “but I can see no activity at all in the enemy camp. We need a spy across the river.”
“If they had no plans to use siege engines as all,” interjected Lord Patel, “I would think that they would at least make the appearance of building some. Even if it was just to throw us off.”
“Perhaps,” replied Lord Chenowith, “but maybe not. Maybe Shamal is just letting his men rest before the attack. They covered the distance from the third trench in an amazingly short time. They must be tired.”
“They raced to reach Sintula,” frowned the Torak. “That alone indicates that they are in a hurry to conquer us. Perhaps the defeat of Premer Doralin in the Sakova has created some kind of urgency in Vand’s plans. I cannot believe that Shamal raced to Sintula only to rest his men. It makes no sense.”
“What can he do without siege engines?” asked Lord Quilo. “If he tries coming across the river, we will decimate his troops.”
“If he does it where we can see him,” mused the emperor.
“The closest ford is over a day away,” remarked Marshal Berman. “If he was planning on fording the river, his whole army would be in motion. They are not moving.”
“Nevertheless,” stated the Torak, “he is planning on crossing the river. It is the only thing he can do. Send horsemen upstream, Marshal. I do not want them on the banks of the river where the enemy can see them. Keep them inland a bit.”
“But then they will not be able to see what the enemy is up to,” frowned Marshal Berman. “What good will that do?”
“I am more interested in what they hear,” smiled the Torak. “I want to know if they hear any sounds of felling trees, or crafting wood.”
“Boats?” asked Lord Kiamesh.
“Boats, rafts, a bridge,” shrugged the Torak. “It doesn’t matter what their plan is, but where it is. Wherever we hear the sounds of falling trees, that will be where the Motangans plan to cross the river.”
“And what do we do when we find it?” asked Lord Jamarat.
“We deny them the chance to cross,” answered he emperor.
“So we move thousands of men to stop them from crossing,” pondered Lord Patel. “Meanwhile, they move their bridge building operation to another spot on the river. We cannot afford to watch the whole river. They will eventually succeed in crossing it.”
“You are correct,” nodded Marak. “We cannot possibly stop them from crossing. All we can do is to make them waste men and time. Both of those are important to Premer Shamal. Let us plan to make him waste much of both.”
Chapter 27
Secret Gambles
Bakhai sat on a high ledge on the western foothills of the Bone Mountains. He gazed down on the Motangan encampment hundreds of paces below him. Tall sevemore trees stretched high from the massive encampment, and figures in red appeared in spots wherever there was not a tree. The red carpet below the green trees spread for leagues in every direction.
“It is massive,” Bakhai said with a tone of defeatism. “The camp goes on forever. There is no way that I can go down there and find out where Cardijja is heading. It is impossible. Why did Rejji choose me for this task?”
“Because he believes in you,” soothed the female voice next to him, “as I believe in you. No one else would stand a chance of getting close enough to learn their secrets. Only you can do it.”
“I cannot do it,” balked Bakhai. “I am not a spy. I have no special skills that will allow me to pry their secrets from them. I just can’t do it.”
“You do have special skills,” she insisted. “You grew up in these forests. You know them better than any man alive. Besides, you do have special skills.”
“What?” retorted Bakhai. “Talking to animals? A load of good that will do. These Motangans only have a handful of horses. I cannot bend the minds of humans, Mistake. That is not what I do.”
“Are you forgetting the thousands of friends that surround you?” encouraged Princess Alahara. “Surely they can help you accomplish the task.”
“How?” frowned Bakhai. “Will I call on the chipmunks to attack the Motangans? Will the river otters leave the creeks to come rescue me? This is just a foolish idea. I will not do it. We will rest the night here and return to Angragar in the morning.”
The elven princess frowned as she stared down at the Motangans. Suddenly a thought popped into her mind.
“I will get you into the premer’s tent,” grinned Princess Alahara.
“How?” asked Bakhai. “They would not hesitate to kill an elf if they saw you, Mistake.”
“They will see me,” smiled Princess Alahara. “I want them to. Come on. We need to hurry. I want to get you in before the daylight is gone. I will tell you about my plan on the way down.”
* * *
Princess Alahara peered past the tree at the nearby Motangan sentries. She turned back to Bakhai and smiled.
“More ragged than that,” she shook her head as she reached and ripped Bakhai’s tunic. “Rub some dirt on your face.”
Bakhai dug his fingers into the dirt near the base of the tree. He drove his fingers deeper until he felt moist soil. He pulled out his fingers and slashed them across his face. Mistake was busy ripping small tears in his clothes.
“Are you sure this will work?” asked Bakhai. “I am not afraid to take a chance, but this seems so outlandish.”
“It may be just that,” Mistake said truthfully. “We cannot know for sure how the Motangans will react, but even how they react will tell us much.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bakhai.
“If Cardijja is intent on finding Angragar,” she explained, “he will question you about it. If he has no desire to question you then he probably already knows the location. That is what you have come to find out.”
“So if they kill me on the spot,” frowned Bakhai, “you can go back and tell Rejji that they are heading for Angragar.”
“You are not going to die, Bakhai,” promised the elven princess. “I will not allow that to happen. If I have to charge into that encampment to save you, I will. Are you ready?”
Bakhai sighed deeply and stared into Mistake’s eyes. He nodded slowly.
“I am ready,” he said, “but you are not to rescue me. I do not want that on my conscience. If they kill me, I will just go to Kaltara earlier than I had hoped.”
Princess Alahara opened her mouth to object, but Bakhai was already on his feet. He screamed loudly and dashed around, letting the sentries get a good look at him. Eventually he ran towards the sentries, seemingly falling to the ground as if he had tripped over something. A fireball soared through the air and smashed into the ground a few paces from Bakhai. The sentries shouted in alarm as they sought cover to protect themselves from the magical attack. Bakhai called out to the Motangans for help, but they ignored him. Princess Alahara stepped into the open and sneered at Bakhai. The sentries shouted for mages and archers.